Mackycat11 - Macaroni

The Bad Batch Modern AU Headcanon- Crosshair is a cat person:

( Really the cat is a Crosshair person)

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- He never intended to get a pet, to him it was just an extra expense and time commitment

- But the damn cat kept following him home everyday

- It would stare at him with head tilted as he'd close the townhouse's door

- The first few times he'd stop and stare at it, hoping it would slink off from the attention

- After a couple days it just became routine, the cat would meet him a block before the house and pad alongside him to the door until he went inside.

- One day he hesitated a little too long in going through the door, the cat took this as an invitation to come inside

- He'd stand there with the door open waiting for the cat to leave until the boys came home

- "AWW CAN WE KEEP IT??" Wrecker rumbled, scaring the poor thing into darting under the sofa.

- After much debating, Hunter and Echo decided it could stay, as long as they took it to the vet soon.

- Crosshair rolled his eyes and huffed, but grabbed his wallet and keys to go get cat food

- He just didn't want the cat making noise all night because it was hungry

- He came home a little while later with cat food, litter box + litter, a bowl, and a toy in his pocket (not that he told the others)

- That night while he layed in bed, he set a vet appointment up on his phone- wanted to make sure the mangy thing didn't have fleas or something

- The next afternoon Crosshair and Tech took the cat to the vet.

- Tech just wanted to see what a vet's office was like .

- At the vet they found out the cat was a she and wasn't chipped for someone else.

- The vet asked Crosshair what her name was as he was the one who was holding her.

- "I don't know, it's just a stray" he grumbled.

- The vet chuckled, "Well she needs a name."

- Tech would look at Crosshair and he'd return with an icy side glare, daring Tech to say something idiotic .

- "How about we ask Wrecker?" Tech suggested.

- Crosshair snorted in disgust, "God only if you want her named something like ""Sunshine""."

- Tech would then suggest some very long historical name which would ultimately end in Crosshair snapping and naming the cat himself.

- Once they got home, Crosshair would set her down and beeline for his room, only to hear her padding alongside of him.

- As he entered the room he started to close the door, but the cat meowed quietly behind him.

- "No" he practically whispered, so as Wrecker couldn't hear. And then he closed the door.

- The next morning as soon as he opened her door, there she was, slinking down the hallway beside him.

- He tried to eat breakfast in peace, but she kept staring at him, so he stared back.

-It wasn't until Hunter cleared his throat that he realized the other four were watching the staring match with raised eyebrows.

- He'd snarl something sarcastic at the boys before throwing his plate in the sink and heading out for the day.

- When he got home, he realized his bedroom door was wide open, and the cat wasn't in the main living area.

- She was snuggled on top of his pillow on his bed, lazily basking in the afternoon sun.

- "Seriously?" He moved her and the pillow towards the other side of the bed. Angrily grabbing another pillow he'd lay down on his side and eventually fall asleep.

- He'd wake up a few hours later, curled on his side. The cat was now curled up behind his knees.

- She softly stared at him, blinking slowly once.

- Over the next few weeks, she began sleeping in his bed more, even at night.

- When Echo asked about it, Crosshair chalked it up to him being the only one who feeds her.

- One day while Crosshair was working at his desk, she'd hop up next to his computer, swishing her tail over the pile of papers

- He finally took the toy out of the drawer he hid it in and threw it across the room, chuckling as she leapt after it

- He turned back to his computer thinking he could focus, only for her to jump back up to her spot, dropping the toy at his hand.

- "Isn't fetch for dogs?" He said, tossing the toy again.

- Over an hour went by before he realized no work had gotten done.

- One Sunday afternoon Hunter walked into the living room to join Crosshair watching TV.

- Crosshair looked half asleep, feet propped up on the coffee table, head slung back across the edge of the couch

- It wasn't until Hunter got closer that he noticed Cross's hand moving slowly, stroking between the cat's ears.

- She was curled up fast asleep in Cross's lap, and by the looks of it, had been for a while.

- With a raised eyebrow, Hunter took a deep inhale to say something. But before he could, without even looking up, Cross silently flicked him off.

- Hunter walked away chuckling to himself to go tell Echo.

- It wasn't even a few days later, while Crosshair was meal prepping, that she jumped up in the counter next to him.

- "Down," he hissed at her. Echo would flip his shit if he came in and she was on the counter

- He kept cooking but out of the corner he saw her sit back into her haunches, wiggling her tail. Was she about to...?

- He started to raise a hand to shield his face, but he was too slow

- He only opened his squeezed shut eyes when he realized there was no pain, just soft paws on his one shoulder, and tail slung across the other.

- There she was, perched on his shoulder, staring down at him. She blinked slowly, again.

- He stared back at her for the better part of a minute, partially confused, partially annoyed she made him flinch.

- She eventually broke the staring match off, flopping her head on top of his. A silent purr vibrating across his skull.

- Smelling his food starting to burn, Cross shrugged her into a more comfortable position, before returning his attention to the stove to salvage his meal.

- "Who's burnin' the food?" Wrecker rumbled , coming around the corner

- "It's not for you." Crosshair retorted, but Wrecker was no longer listening.

- The giant was frozen in the doorway, an excited look on his face. A barely audible squeak of excitement coming through.

- He'd been working really hard on not scaring off the cat: being quiet and still in her presence.

- Just like Hunter, Wrecker took a sharp inhale to comment, but before he could speak, "Can it Wrecker."

- Wrecker nodded quietly, not taking his eyes off the cat as he tip toed backwards around the corner he came.

- After several months like this, Crosshair began to actually look forward to waking up in the morning and coming home in the evenings

- One morning over the holidays, the boys were gathered in the kitchen, chatting over coffee.

- All eyes were on Crosshair as he walked in, faithful feline friend in tow.

- As he made his coffee, she wove her way in between his feet, rubbing her head against his legs.

- "I don't think I've ever seen you more affectionate than you are with that cat," Hunter mused.

- The other three chuckled or nodded in agreement.

- Crosshair calmly sipped his coffee, giving time for his snarky response to percolate.

- Finally, setting down his cup. "She's better company than the rest of you," he retorted cooly.

- Again the other three each chuckled or snorted in response, while Hunter almost spit coffee back into his cup.

- After breakfast, the others split off to their own devices, leaving Crosshair and the cat in the kitchen.

- She immediately leapt onto the counter he was at.

- As he put his coffee down, he leaned over her, attempting a rematch of their last staring contest.

- However, this time she blinked slowly as she leaned her head up against his, nuzzling into his cheek.

- The old Crosshair would've pulled away, but now...he sighed and the corner of his mouth started to lift. He even nudged her back with his nose.

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BONUS: Crosshair x Reader(and the cat)

- For the first few months of knowing Crosshair you didn't even know he had a pet

- He never mentioned anything even remotely hinting to it

- It wasn't until he invited you over to watch a movie that Echo passed by the two of you and asked where the cat was.

- You didn't meet her that now. Crosshair gave some excuse about not wanting to wake her up and go get her, but really he wasn't ready.

-What if his cat didn't like you? What if the cat liked you more than she liked him?

- It wasn't for another few weeks that he let you into his room and meet his cat.

- He wasn't sure what he expected, but he should've guessed that she would just stare at you. After all, that's what she did to him before walking through his door.

- As your relationship grew, Crosshair was aware he wasn't very good at comforting you, especially over text.

- He eventually just started sending pictures of the cat, or on rare occasion, a selfie with the cat, if you seemed less animated than usual.

- He figured that was better than any words he could come up with anyways.

ZEMOS ACCENT

180

a

Real Men Wear Tiaras || Iceman

summary: Olivia desires to hold a tea party with Iceman turning into the Ice Queen. It's fingernail painting, pink fluffy boas, and glittery tiaras for this fighter pilot. Tom will do anything to make sure his baby girl is happy.

pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x Wife!Reader

✧ Iceman masterlist || My Library

Olivia, the bright and bubbly little girl who had pretty blonde hair and crystal blue orbs, peered up at her daddy who was seated behind his desk, looking over a last-minute report an admiral sent over to him. With a doll in one hand, and a hot pink boa in the other, the four-year-old waited patiently. 

Through his reading glasses, Ice could feel the stare of his baby. You and Iceman’s son, Riley, were out with a couple of your friends for a playdate with the boys, leaving Olivia at home with her father. 

“Yes, Angel?” Ice finally peels his eyes off the screen of his computer.

Olivia giggles to herself. Holding her boa and doll, she blinks. Long eyelashes fan along her sweet little cheeks, a light dusty shade of pink covering her skin from how hard she was running earlier. 

“Can we have a tea party?” She asks him in the cutest voice. Ice feels his heart tighten, knowing that voice and those big blue eyes would do him in. Peeling his glasses off his eyes, he contemplates his daughter. Picking her up, he plucks at the pink boa. 

“Just us? Or is Rosie, Snow White, and Maggie joining us?” He questions, referencing her three favorite dolls, one of which was Rosie, a blonde Barbie who was in her hands currently. 

“All of us!” Olivia proclaims. “This is for you, daddy,” She puts the boa around his neck. Ice folds his neck at the light tickling, shaking his head. 

“Alright, then. Let’s go have a tea party.” Ice declares, turning his computer off. Olivia shrieks with excitement, scrambling to get out of Ice’s lap. 

“I have to go find your tiara!” She squeals.

“My what?” Tom jerks his head up, but it was too late. Olivia was much faster, her legs pushing her toward her bedroom. She had a tea set that Tom’s mother gifted her for Christmas, and it was one that she swore by. Every tea party whether it was with you, Ice, or both of you, included this tea set. 

Ice sighs to himself, moving into the kitchen to make actual tea. Olivia preferred the real thing. It was easy when she was two to make her believe that water served as tea, but now that she was four, somehow she grew much wiser. After Ice fixes it and lets it cool, he looks to see Olivia rushing forward with the teapot.

“Here, daddy!” She says, handing it to him.

“Thank you, baby,” Ice responds, taking the teapot from her. He fills it up and soon, he’s being whisked to her bedroom where her table was. She decorated it with some toys and set her dolls Snow White, Rosie, and Maggie in their chairs, leaving two spots open.

“Maggie, Rosie, and Snow White – The Ice Queen is here!” Olivia announces, holding her sparkly tiara. Tom’s eyes double in size. She was seriously going to make him wear it. She marches over, humming loudly as she sets the tiara atop her father’s head. 

“I dub thee Ice Queen Ka… Ka… Katanzsy!” She implodes. She still had a hard time pronouncing her last name. 

Ice smiles. “Repeat after me, baby… Ka,”

“Ka,” 

“Zan,” 

“Zan!” 

“Sky,” 

“SKY!” 

Ice grins. 

“That’s it, Angel! Kazansky.” 

Olivia grins. “KATANZSY!” 

Ice exhales with a laugh. “You’ll get it,” He kisses her head. 

As he pours the tea into the tiny cups, Olivia giggles. “Pinkies out, daddy!” She reminds him. Tom smirks, sticking his pinky out as they share some tea. Olivia is babbling onto her dolls, telling them that they must respect Iceman because he was their Ice Queen. 

Iceman couldn’t help but wonder. If his little girl became a naval aviator like him, would she dub the nickname Ice? Would he lead a legacy that she could carry on? 

It makes a lump form in his throat at the mention. As the tea party comes to an end, Olivia smiles. “Daddy, will you paint my nails, please?” She asks him.

How could he say no? He’d give this baby girl anything she wanted. He’d hand the world to her on a silver platter if it meant he would see that darling smile. Soon the father-daughter duo is on the floor with paper towels spread around. Iceman is holding a deep concentration on the tiny nails of Olivia, coloring them a hot pink. She loved anything hot pink.

And he did so while still wearing the glittery tiara and pink boa. After he successfully painted Olivia’s fingernails, she erupted with giggles.

“Your turn!” She exclaims, taking the cap to the nail polish. Iceman rolls his eyes with a laugh, knowing he should’ve seen this coming. So, without giving her any lip, he puts his fingers in front of her. One by one with a deep concentration that matched his face earlier, Olivia did a rather good job of painting his nails. 

Iceman holds them up for his daughter to examine. “Well? Are these nails fit for the Ice Queen?” he questions with a smile. 

Olivia nods her head. She puts her fingertips on his.

“We match!” She squeals, throwing her arms around his neck. Tom feels himself begin to melt. He loved this baby so much. 

When you arrived with a sleeping Riley on your shoulder, you were greeted by the sight of Ice donning his tiara, pink boa, and bright nails. 

“Well, it seems you two had fun,” You say, putting your keys in the bowl. Ice grins, nodding his head.

“We did.” 

The very next day, Ice went to work as usual. And when he walked in, Slider and Hollywood were the first to notice the pilot’s rather blinding choice of nail color.

“Whoa, Iceman. You got somethin’ to tell us?” Slider laughs.

Maverick walks around the corner to see the commotion. 

“Olivia got you, too?” He asks with a slight gulp. 

Ice’s eyebrows knit together. “What happened?” 

Slowly, Maverick holds up his own hands, but his fingernails were blue and pink.

“Maddie Mitchell,” He announces.

The two pilots smiled widely, Hollywood and Slider glancing between them.

“So, that’s what it’s like to have daughters?” Slider asks.

Iceman chuckles.

“We do anything to make those girls happy. Right, Maverick?” 

Maverick nods.

“Anything,” He agrees. 

Iceman and Maverick would wear their nail polish with pride.

saviors & healers- Robby x oc social worker! part one: the healer. - part two. - part three.

ꫂ ၴႅၴ slow enemies-ish to friends to possible lovers(?) trope- lol ꫂ age gap! ꫂ ၴႅၴ dr langdon certified hater. ꫂ ၴႅၴ warnings: swear count. panic attacks. violence. suicide ideation discussion. ꫂ ၴႅၴ word count: 4.9k.

masterlist:

__

Dr. Nina Wojicki was practically burning holes through Dr. Robby’s skull. No—scratch that. She was.

The tension in the Pitt was thick enough to scalpel, and it had been since the second she stepped foot inside. Her presence always stirred the air, but today it was sharper. Louder. Angrier.

And the number one name on her helllist—as the rest of the Pitt liked to call it—was Dr. Robby.

She never called him that, though. No, she made a point to call him Michael, every time, no matter how many times he corrected her. It wasn’t petty. It was strategic.

Her stubbornness had long become legendary in the Pitt—equal parts intriguing and exhausting. And today, Michael could feel it in his bones.

Fresh from the University of Chicago with a PhD in Social Work and newly thirty, Nina had wasted no time making the ER her personal battlefield. Charm when needed, daggers when not. She wasn’t here to be liked. She was here to do the damn job—and she was damn good at it.

Michael knew that. Maybe a little too well.

Currently, she was scrolling through the system at the nurses’ station, eyes narrowing at the patient logs. Her tongue clicked once. Then again. Then a third time, sharper now.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, mostly to herself. “Of course he didn’t log him.”

Across the room, Michael didn’t need to look up. He heard the click. Felt the shift. He knew she was coming.

He braced himself.

Langdon, ever the observant one, caught the look in Michael’s eyes and turned just in time to see the ash-brunette stomping their way. Her hands were buried in the pockets of her coat, fingers twitching around a bundle of Flair pens.

Bad sign.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Wojicki,” Langdon greeted, arms folded and eyes dancing. “To what do we owe this… delightful appearance?”

She shot him a look, then turned to Michael without skipping a beat. “Your incompetent doctor here didn’t log in the psych patient from this morning.”

Michael didn’t flinch, eyes still on the chart in front of him. He was already preparing for the storm. “Oh no,” he said dryly. “The horror.”

Nina’s jaw tightened. Langdon chuckled.

“Don’t even start, Jumpy,” she warned, pointing a finger at him.

He smirked. “Relax, Miss Fidgety. What earth-shattering crime did I commit this time?”

She cocked an eyebrow, sarcasm sharpened like a scalpel. “You didn’t enter the 8 a.m. patient’s info. The one I evaluated. I don’t have access to his file, and now I can’t input my follow-up diagnosis.”

Langdon stepped in. “He’s not your patient, Nina.”

“Excuse me?” Her fire ignited. “He has schizophrenia, Franky. That makes him my patient.”

“It’s not confirmed schizophrenia. It’s a symptom cluster. We don’t slap labels on one visit.”

“Oh, please.” She scoffed. “You wouldn’t have paged me if you didn’t suspect it was psychological and not physical.”

“I didn’t make that call,” Langdon snapped. His eyes flicked to Michael.

Michael still hadn’t looked up.

But he was listening. Every word. Every heartbeat.

Nina pivoted again, now arms crossed. “Wanna speak up, Dr. Michael?” she asked, each word sugarcoated in attitude.

Finally, he shut the file with a satisfying snap and walked past Langdon, slapping the chart into his chest. “Follow me,” he muttered, not sparing either of them a glance.

Nina narrowed her eyes, growling under her breath as she stalked after him.

“So it was you,” she hissed. “You made the call. You looped me in.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. He knew she’d follow. He always knew.

They reached the on-call room. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

She shut it behind her with a loud click.

“You gonna keep ignoring me, or are we going to have a grown-up conversation?” Nina asked, arms still crossed.

Michael turned, finally facing her. His shoulders tense, jaw tight.

“You stormed into the Pitt like a damn hurricane, Nina. You wanna talk about grown-up behavior?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you prefer I just let bad patient documentation slide? Want me to play nice while someone falls through the cracks?”

His jaw twitched. “No. But you could try not lighting the place on fire every time you find a mistake.”

She stepped closer. “Maybe if people around here actually did their jobs, I wouldn’t have to play fire marshal.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t mocking. It was tired. Honest. “You always this intense, or do I just bring out your best?”

Her lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the way he said it. Not mocking. Not amused. Just… low. Real.

“You bring out something, that’s for sure,” she muttered. Her voice wavered. Just enough for him to catch it.

They stood there—too long. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was dense. Like grief. Like something was about to be said and neither wanted to be the one to break it.

He took a step closer. So did she.

Close enough now that he could see the slight tremble in her fingertips. The crease between her brows. The way her breath hitched before she spoke.

“I paged you because I trust your gut,” he said finally. “Not because I needed a lecture.”

Her breath caught halfway in her throat. “Then next time, say that. Don’t leave me out in the Pitt to fight with Frank like I’m the problem.”

“You’re not the problem,” he said—quiet. Fast. Like it had been waiting to leave his mouth. “You’re just the only one brave enough to yell about it.”

That silenced her.

He studied her—every flicker of emotion she tried to smother.

“You act like everyone hates you here.”

“They don’t have to like me,” she muttered.

“No. But I think some of us do,” he said—and added, almost too quiet to hear—“a little too much.”

Her eyes darted to his.

The air cracked.

It wasn’t a kiss. Not even a touch. But his hand brushed the door handle like he needed to remind himself where the line was.

She didn’t move. Neither did he.

Finally, he spoke. Voice hoarse. “You should probably go document your follow-up. We’ll talk again—just… maybe not in front of the whole ER next time.”

Her lips twitched, somewhere between a smirk and a challenge. “Sure. If you grow a spine and back me up next time.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Deal.”

But as she brushed past him—shoulder to shoulder—neither of them said what they were really thinking.

__

Dr. Nina had just gotten in for the early evening and overnight shift, which she dreaded. But at least there was an upside: Dr. Abbot; who quite honestly felt like her dad in some ways.

Was her father a doctor? No, he was a lawyer. Was her dad a fisher? Also, no. Was he kind, empathetic, but also had a sarcastic side? Yes and yes. Was he also grey haired? Triple yes.

She hadn’t turned on her pinger when her phone rang at her desk, just as she sat down. Her nostrils flared as her mouth clenched, and she picked up the phone.

“Yes?” she spat a little too quickly—and quickly felt guilt seep into her abdomen.

Dr. Robby on the other side was taken back for a moment before speaking, “Dr. Nina? We need you down in the Pitt for a moment—”

She cut him off. “Dr. Michael, I can’t come down at this moment. Is Dr. Alfaro there? Or Dr. Murphy?” she questioned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

She thought of the other social workers who could’ve just arrived or were already there.

She heard Dr. Michael sigh. “Well, yes, but—”

She cut him off again. “I can’t come down, Dr. Robinavitch. You need to find someone else.”

She stated his full name, promptly ending the conversation.

Dr. Michael stood there for a brief few seconds before nodding. “Of course, Dr. Wojicki,” he declared before hanging up.

He stood with his hand finally retreating from the corded phone, his eyebrows crinkled. He didn’t think she’d ever called him by his last name besides the first day they met.

Even though that attitude was a regular occurrence, it was never first thing when she got here.

She slapped the phone back into the receiver and stared up at the ceiling, leaning back in her chair.

God, she hated it when this happened. And she cursed herself for not staying on top of herself.

After moving here from Chicago—five months ago now—she’d definitely let her health and wellbeing fall to the back burner.

Now, it was beginning to take a toll.

She thought she’d be okay moving to a new city. But no. She’d been wrong.

Again.

__

Twenty-five minutes later, there was a knock at Nina’s office door.

She froze.

Held her breath. Slowed it. Willed her pulse to calm as she silently begged whoever it was to just go away.

“I know you’re in there, Dr. Wojicki.”

Damn.

She recognized the voice immediately—familiar and frustratingly warm. Dr. Michael Robby.

With a loud, dramatic sigh, she pushed herself up from her chair and made her way to the door, dragging her feet more than she’d admit.

When she opened it, Michael stood there, eyes scanning her the way only someone trained in observation—and maybe something a little more personal—could.

She looked like hell. Pale, drawn, and tense. Purple bags hollowed out her under-eyes, and her pupils were blown, uneasy. She stood there in front of him, arms crossed too tightly and confidence nowhere in sight.

Very unlike her.

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately.

She rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that my line?”

He chuckled, and somehow it echoed in her chest—warm, unexpected. Her spine tingled. Her cheeks flushed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard you say that before. Not to me, and definitely not in the Pitt,” he teased, leaning against the frame like he had all day.

Nina exhaled and rubbed the bridge of her nose, eyes squeezed shut. Michael’s gaze flicked downward, catching the faint bruises along her hands—half hidden, half colored by her naturally cool-toned skin.

“Is everything okay, Dr. Nina?” he asked again, this time softer.

Her eyes opened slowly, sharp and guarded. “Peachy,” she muttered before closing the door in his face.

She didn’t slam it. But she made sure he heard the click of the lock.

Michael stood there for a beat, replaying what he saw, what he sensed, and—more than anything—what he believed.

Then he walked away.

Inside, Nina sagged against the front of her desk like someone had pulled the plug. A sob broke through before she could stop it, followed by another, and another, until silent tears carved rivers down her face.

Her body was exhausted. Her mind—shattered. And emotionally? She was drowning. Dried out and waterlogged all at once.

Sleep was a fantasy. Functioning was becoming one too. And if something didn’t give soon, she would break.

No. She was breaking.

She laid a trembling hand flat against her chest, trying to still the panicked beat beneath. It felt like her heart was either going to burst or give out entirely—and she wasn’t sure which terrified her more.

She was running on fumes. And even those were poisoned with depression, anxiety, unresolved trauma—emotions she had battled her whole life, but now, without medication or support, they were winning.

She’d thought the move would bring her peace. A new city. A new chapter. A reset.

But it hadn’t.

It amplified everything.

And somewhere along the way, she’d started to feel abandoned, even though no one had technically left her. She had chosen this. Chosen alone.

But it still stung like rejection.

She felt unloved. Unlovable. Like no one would care if she just… disappeared.

Head tilted back, eyes locked on the dimmed ceiling light, she whispered into the silence—not really expecting an answer:

Why me?

What did I do to deserve this?

How could someone so empathetic, so hardworking, someone who tried so damn hard to care for everyone else… be left to carry this much?

Her only answer was the weight in her chest.

And the silence. Always, the silence.

__

6:42 AM; the next morning.

She had exactly 18 minutes left before she could leave this hellhole—also known as the Pitt. She’d been stuck down here with Dr. Abbott for the better part of her shift, dealing with one psychological patient after another as they rolled in throughout the night. Dr. Nina was now checking in on her last patient of the shift, and immediately, she sensed something was off. Call it spidey senses, call it intuition—whatever it was, the energy of the room shifted, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

"Good morning, Mr. Callahan—what brings you in today?" she asked as she approached the computer next to his bed. He didn’t respond, only stared at her. She offered a soft smile. "It’s early, I know. That’s alright."

She was about to speak again when his file loaded, but before she could, he snapped.

"You! You’re the one who fucking poisoned me!" His voice screamed out, and Nina froze.

Me?

She’d never met this man in her life.

"I understand that you’re agitated, and the meds should be working soon, but I don’t think we’ve ever met before. Have you been here—"

He cut her off, suddenly lunging off the bed, his movements frantic. In an instant, he knocked her back into the wall, the sharp edge of a scalpel gleaming in his hand. His IV tore from his arm, blood spilling out and splattering all over her. Nina’s gaze locked onto the scalpel, and her body tensed. Fear crawled down her spine as his face came dangerously close to hers. She turned her head, trying to escape his proximity, but he screamed in her ear.

"You’re going to regret ever giving me meds, Matilda! I’m gonna fucking kill you!" His words were full of rage, and before she could react, the scalpel pressed to her throat.

He didn’t get far before he was suddenly yanked backward. Dr. Abbott, appearing from nowhere, put himself between Nina and the patient. He glared at the man, fury flashing in his eyes. "Don't you move another step," Abbott warned, his voice low but deadly. "I will gladly lose my license today if that means you don't touch her."

Nina coughed, the blood from her neck trickling down her skin. Her eyes dilated, her body still locked in fight-or-flight mode. But underneath it all, she felt like a little girl again, alone and helpless—berated by her parents with no one to protect her.

As soon as Dr. Abbott saw that the patient was restrained by other nurses, he turned back toward Nina. His concern grew when he realized she was nowhere to be found. He looked down.

She was curled into a ball on the floor, her body rocking back and forth, her head hitting the wall behind her with each movement. Uncontrollable tears streamed down her grey-blue eyes, her heart sinking as if it had fallen straight through her chest. She was in a daze, unsure if what had just happened was real or just a hallucination. Was she so dissociated that her mind had fabricated the whole thing?

Dr. Abbott kneeled in front of her, his hand gently resting on her shoulder. "Nina," he said softly, his voice full of concern.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, and she flinched, pulling away. "Don’t touch me," she hissed, her voice shaky.

"Nina, please, let me help—"

She shook her head violently, standing up in a rush. Her eyes were wide with terror as she scanned the room, desperate to escape the suffocating walls closing in around her.

Before Dr. Abbott could say another word, she bolted. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway as she ran past the nurse's station, where the Pitt crew was just arriving for their shift. They watched her, confused, as she sprinted toward the stairwell. Dr. Michael had just arrived for the day and caught a fleeting glimpse of her ash-brown hair disappearing into the stairwell in mere seconds.

Nina didn’t stop to think. She just ran. She ran up six flights of stairs, her breath growing shallow, her vision clouded by the rush of blood and panic. All that could be heard were the heavy, ragged sobs and shallow breaths as she pushed herself onward.

When she reached the sixth floor, she staggered out of the stairwell. She was met with curious eyes, but they quickly dropped to the blood soaking through her white coat—her neck still bleeding from where the scalpel had grazed her skin. Fuck. She would need a new one. She groaned inwardly.

"Dr. Nina—" Kiara began, but before she could say anything else, Nina bolted past her, heading straight for her office.

She slammed the door behind her, too frantic to lock it. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for somewhere to hide. Her gaze fell on the wooden desk in front of her. She yanked out the chair and collapsed beneath it, curling up into a ball, pressing herself against the solid wood.

Her sobs grew louder as she rocked back and forth, trying to calm herself, but finding no relief. She felt completely undone, trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

No one would help her. No one would ask if she's ok.

Yet. She didn't want anyone to. She didn't want to seem like a problem. A child.

__

It was a mere few minutes later, Robby going into saving mode, when she heard a soft knock on the door, followed by the gentle click of it opening. Footsteps padded softly into the room, and she immediately froze, her body tensing with unease.

Who was it?

"Dr. Nina?" came the familiar voice of Dr. Michael.

A sob escaped her before she could stop it, and she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. His eyes darted to the desk—he knew. He knew she was under there. Quietly, he shut the door behind him, walked around the desk, and pulled out the chair.

He looked down at the fragile woman who suddenly felt like a scared child. She couldn’t meet his gaze, too afraid he’d be angry with her—for being a burden, a problem, a mess. She curled deeper into herself, although there was no more space left to retreat.

He knelt down, gently setting the supplies Dana had brought him: gauze, saline solution, stitches, bandages.

"Did that really just happen?" she whispered, the question stopping Robby in his tracks.

"Did they really just attack me?" she asked again, her voice barely audible. She wasn’t even sure her mind was telling the truth—it had lied to her before.

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She finally lifted her head, and what he saw confirmed his worst suspicion.

“Did that patient really attack me? Did he really hurt me?” Her voice cracked. She didn’t feel it—her neck, her shoulder, her head. There was no pain.

She was simply numb.

“I think you may be concussed,” Robby said, studying her face. Her pupils were dilated. Her skin was pale—though, with her, that was always the case. Then he saw the cut on her neck, and the blood staining her white coat and black work clothes.

“May I check you? I want to rule out a concussion, Nina.”

Something about the way he said her name—soft, careful—made her heart ache. She nodded, inching just out from under the desk. He checked her eyes with a small light, guiding her vision with his finger. No concussion. Good.

He motioned toward her neck. She sighed and tilted her head.

“It’s beginning to clot. That’s good,” he said, cleaning the area with gauze and saline. Next, he examined the bruises already forming around her neck. She nodded, allowing him to lift her shirt slightly to peek at her shoulders.

Gods, she bruised so easily.

“Already bruised?” she teased weakly.

He glanced at her, then back at the dark marks. A small chuckle slipped out as he reached for a bandage.

“Something tells me you’re not surprised?”

She shook her head. “Unfortunately, with this ghostly complexion? I bruise if the wind breathes on me too hard.”

After securing the bandage, his gaze fell to her hands, marked with smaller bruises.

“May I ask why your hands are bruised, then?” he asked gently.

She immediately tucked them behind her.

“No, no. We’re not doing that,” he said softly, reaching for them again. She didn’t resist as he brought them forward.

She wouldn’t lie—she felt lightheaded. And she couldn’t deny that her breathing faltered slightly when his hands wrapped around hers.

Another confirmation, he thought.

“Is there anyone at home, Nina, who—”

She shook her head quickly. “No. No, It’s just me.”

He nodded, carefully checking her fingers. No breaks. No sprains. Just bruises.

“May I ask why you show up with more bruises every time I see you?” he asked again, voice soft but sincere.

She met his eyes, didn’t pull away. Her hands were still in his, even though he didn’t need to hold them anymore.

She cleared her throat. “My hands… are kind of my go-to when I get really stressed. Or angry.”

She looked down at them. “They’re my personal fidget spinner. I flex them, pull at them, hit them against things just to... feel something. To make my mind shut up for once. I don't know.”

She stopped, realizing what she had just confessed.

His chest tightened.

“Are you taking anything, Nina? Or speaking to someone?”

She shook her head. “Well—not anymore. I used to. Back at the hospital before I moved, I had weekly sessions, meds... but since the move, it’s all taken a backseat and—”

“We have to change that, Dr. Nina,” he said, gently rubbing his thumb across hers. The smallest gesture, yet it made her feel... safe.

“I—I don’t know, Dr. Mic—”

“Robby,” he corrected gently. “Call me Robby.”

She looked up, her grey-blue eyes locking onto his warm brown ones. There were laugh lines around his eyes, but in this moment, they just made him look kind. Steady.

“Robby,” she said, almost tasting the unfamiliar softness of it. “I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”

“An inconvenience?” he asked knowingly. “No. Nina, we as doctors can only do our best when we’re taking care of everything behind the scenes. Our mental and emotional health? Non-negotiable. We can't ignore it. Not in this field.”

She nodded.

“Let’s talk to Kiara. I’m sure she can help,” he offered.

Before she could respond, a knock broke the moment. Both turned their heads toward the door.

Robby quickly pulled back, standing up and tidying the used supplies. Dr. Abbott walked in as Nina stood, straightening her clothes—and that’s when she saw it.

The blood.

Her stomach turned.

Without hesitation, Robby held the trash can out in front of her. A reflex. She threw up. Abbott glanced between the two of them—he knew he’d just walked in on something private. You could feel it in the air.

When she finally stopped, Robby handed her gauze to wipe her mouth.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Abbott cleared his throat. Nina turned to him, nervously.

“Hi.”

“I brought you some clean scrubs so you don’t have to drive home in those,” he said kindly. “Just wanted to check on you, kid.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Abbott.”

Robby took that as his cue to leave. As he reached the door, she called after him.

“Thank you, Dr. Robby,” she said warmly.

He met her eyes and smiled before stepping out.

When she turned back around, Abbott was already settled in her chair.

“SO. How can I help you, Mr. Abbott?” she teased, and he chuckled as she sat down.

__

The next morning, she was back.

Sharing a shift with Robby and the rest of the Pitt crew. Anxiety had followed her all night and clung to her as she walked in. Would he pretend nothing happened? Would everything go back to normal? She stepped into her office and saw a letter on her desk—no, two. And next to them, a Dunkin Donuts vanilla latte. She opened the first letter, from Kiara. It promised privacy. Off-the-books sessions. No insurance. The line made her laugh softly.

Then, her eyes landed on the other envelope—pure chicken scratch. Robby. The letter was full of warmth, empathy, and gentle wit. He offered himself as a mentor, a sounding board, or even a brick wall for her sarcasm, should she need one. But most of all, the letter offered friendship. A knock sounded. Robby’s head popped in. “Hi,” she said, slightly flustered. She sat back in her chair as he entered, shutting the door behind him without looking away. She looked rested. For once.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” she teased, sipping the latte. He smiled at the floor, then sat in the chair across from her. “Morning, Nina. How was the rest of your day yesterday?” She smirked. “You know I abhor small talk, Dr. Robby,” she teased. “But wouldn’t you like to know?” He chuckled lightly.

“Abbott got me some medical-grade melatonin before I left yesterday. Told me to take three and call it a night once I got home. My cat was very concerned when she woke me up screaming, because I forgot to give her her lunch,” she mused, sipping her coffee.

“A cat?” His eyebrow flicked up, curiosity growing.

“Yes, a kitty. You’d know that if you stopped trying to small talk me every day,” she hummed. “But yeah, I have a six-year-old tabby named Kilo, which—yes—you can already guess why he’s named that. I just say it’s Australian when people ask.”

Robby smiled. “Well, good to know there’s more to you than that wall you keep up,” he said warmly.

She tilted her cup toward him. “Glad to hear some not-so-rude humor from you today, Dr. Nina,” he added boldly.

Her mouth popped open in surprise. “You asshole,” she muttered—but she knew exactly what he meant. She had been a bitch the past few months, after missing her medication refill.

“Dr. Kiara already called UChicago, got your meds refilled—they’re sitting in your desk drawer,” he explained.

She sighed. “I’m gonna kill you all. Starting with Franky downstairs,” she chuckled.

“Oh, wait now, I need him in the clinic today. Maybe after our shift ends,” he replied, sipping his coffee.

“I guess I can hold off,” she playfully sighed.

The two of them sat in a comfortable quiet for a moment, studying one another.

“I don’t want you—or Kiara, or Abbott—to think I’m some kind of weak child who can’t handle this job,” she said gently.

Robby shifted in his seat. She continued, voice steady but low.

“I don’t want you to think I’m incapable of doing good work. My fuel and passion are what keep me going. The reasons behind what I do—they’re at the forefront of my work, every single day.”

He nodded slowly. “We’ve all got our reasons in this profession.”

“Well…” She hesitated. “My childhood wasn’t exactly the greatest. I think I spent more time alone in my room than anywhere else, scared of which parent was going to scream at me next. The only time I felt seen by my family was when I was on my deathbed—figuratively speaking.”

She stared out the window, her features softer than usual. Vulnerable.

“The reason I am who I am—and why I do this work—is because I became the person I longed for as a child. The one I begged for. Screamed for. Until I lost my voice,” she said quietly. “Even then, no one came. No one helped. No one saved me.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands.

“So when I get the chance to save someone else—or just be there for them—it heals me. Little by little. Heals me without me needing to beg for assistance or worry if someone’s going to care. So I don’t have to ask for help or make someone worry about me.”

Robby watched the guilt start creeping back into her eyes. She was bracing herself for rejection.

But he leaned forward instead, his voice warm.

“Well… thank you, Nina. For opening up to me. I want you to never feel like you’re a burden—because you’re not. Your reasons, your passion for this work—it’s admirable. You haven’t let your trauma, your insecurities, or even your setbacks hold you back. I’m incredibly glad to have you here.”

He held her gaze. Those words and his gaze, held something a bit more.

“And I want you to know—everyone else, even when you’re a complete bitch—”

She giggled, softly. A smile crept up on his face.

“—to everyone. Especially me. We’re grateful you’re here. Today and every day. You’re a damn good doctor, Nina. And you’re irreplaceable.”

She felt something warm and unfamiliar creep up her chest—but all she could manage was a nod.

“Thank you, Robby. I appreciate that,” she murmured.

He nodded and stood. “Now meet us downstairs when you’re sure you won’t tear Franky’s head off.”

She giggled again, just a little.

“Tell Franky to put me in the system,” she quipped.

He nodded. “Will do.”

She smiled a little wider, a little brighter than she had in weeks.

Robby left with a heart full—and a smile that didn’t leave his face the rest of the day.

Nina looked back down at the letter Robby had written, her eyes lingering on the number scribbled at the bottom.

But they flitted back to the line just above it—the one that struck her the most:

You don’t have to carry the weight of others or feel like you’re a burden. First, it’s not your weight to carry. And second, you will never be a burden—to the hospital, to the crew, and especially not to me.

eeeeeek! hope you all enjoyed!!!

please like and reblog, if you enjoyed!

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

♡♡♡

Season One

Chapter One - Mr Bridgerton

Chapter Two - Empty drawing rooms

Chapter Three - Becoming acquainted

Chapter Four - Roots for friendship

Chapter Five - Diamonds

Chapter Six - Splendid

Chapter Seven - The prince

Chapter Eight - Sparkling diamond

Chapter Nine - Late night scandals

Chapter Ten - Duel at dawn

Chapter Eleven - Ruse to ruse

Chapter Twelve - Beautiful day for a wedding

Chapter Thirteen - Passionate

Chapter Fourteen - Scandals in abundance

Chapter Fifteen - Rhythm of our hearts

Chapter Sixteen - Entanglement

Chapter Seventeen - End of the season

♡♡♡

Season Two

The tag list is full! I'm sorry! I've reached the capacity!

March hotness

Damn he or she better.

THIS JUST IN: Newton Artemis Fido Scamander has permanently raised my standards. If you won’t lick the dirty ground in a foreign country in order to find me, you ain’t it, chief.

what Ilvermorny houses do you think the Hogwarts fantastic beast gang would be in? and what Hogwarts houses would the Ilvermorny fantastic beast gang be in?

Albus - Thunderbird

Gellert - Horned Serpent

Theseus - Pukwudgie/Wampus

Newt - Thunderbird

Leta - Pukwudgie

Percival - Slytherin/Gryffindor

Seraphina - Slytherin

Abernathy - Slytherin

Queenie - Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw

Tina - Gryffindor

Jacob - Hufflepuff/Pukwudgie

Nagini - Ravenclaw/Thunderbird

Credence - Slytherin/Horned Serpent

Vinda - Ravenclaw (or Slytherin)/Horned Serpent

CRAWL HOME TO HER / BUCKY BARNES X READER

neighbors!au. bucky isn’t as receptive to this new life of his as everyone had hoped. he’s cold, sharp-tongued, and closed off. except to the tenant across the hallway from him, who always wears pajamas and bakes a dozen too many of his favorite cookies. titles taken from hozier’s ‘work song’. 

part one - body’s working on empty

part two - the wrong i did

part three - didn’t care much how long i lived

part four - three days on a drunken sin

part five - in the low lamp light

part six - tooth aches

part seven - what my hands and my body’s done

part eight - heaven and hell

part nine - when my time comes around

part ten - lay me gently in the cold hard earth

part eleven - still have my baby

part twelve - my babe would have me

part thirteen - no grave can hold my body down

epilogue - crawl home to her