The Star-Crossed Lovers Of District 12 (Part 3)

Haymitch Abernathy x Wife!reader

Summary: Y/N continues trying to find balance in her ‘new life’ while grappling with the loss of her memories. Implied sexual content and past sexual trauma.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2

Y/N spends her days going through the motions and her nights running from dreams of loved ones past.

“I can’t do this anymore, Haymitch.” She wails, pressed tightly to his chest. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“You’re ok,” Haymitch whispers, worry seeping into his own voice. “Shh.”

“Please help me.”

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.” Haymitch brushes his lips against her forehead. “I’ll help you, I’ll help you.”

god there's so much. so much little details about the night crew doctors i want them all.

dr walsh - "heavy is the head that wears the crown"

dr ellis - "put me in coach"

dr shen - "i was still a resident three months ago"

dr abbott - "heard it on the police scanner"

I NEED MORE ABOUT THESE FOUR AND I NEED THEM NOW

“desperation to find someone who, even if they don’t don’t get you, they at least like you.” MY SHAYLAAAAAAAAAA 😭

okay but if you ever see a male creative who had a string of great work and then everything else he did was dogshit, go to the "personal life" part of his wikipedia and look at his relationships. you'll either find a major tragedy he didn't recover from (completely understandable) or, more likely, there was a woman in his life doing uncredited shit editing his stuff or contributing generally and she's not there anymore.

I told a friend about this phenomenon in literature and he called me weeks later like, I remembered what you said about women doing uncredited work when tim burton came up. he made a string of bangers then everything else just was nowhere near as good. the timeline matches perfectly to when he was with this german visual artist (lena gieseke). he's done some good work in collaboration, but if things were dug into I suspect we would find she did a lot more than people realise.

so yeah whenever you look around like wow women didn't work in history, or, women aren't auteurs, or, there just aren't as many great female writers - societal reasons for that aside, half the time they absolutely did.

Hell yeah

I honestly can't think of any performances in recent tv that are as visceral and brutally realistic as this !!

Santos has an attitude problem and has obvious (and explained) male authority issues and she can be mean and she gave some not very nice nicknames to the med students. But also like. She fixed Whitaker’s finger without him even asking. She consoled him when Mr. Milton died and reassured him it wasn’t his fault. Even when she made a callous and cruel joke about him killing his patient later on, she instantly took it back and reaffirmed to him once again that it wasn’t his fault. She took the blame for Mohan when Langdon was about to ream them out. She clearly felt very conflicted about reporting Langdon even though it was the right thing to do, and even after he screamed at and berated her and she had every reason to want revenge. She tried her best to comfort Jake. She again earnestly checked in on Whitaker after he had to go into the makeshift morgue to grab a blanket.

Like I’m not saying Santos is an angel or even that she’s necessarily nice. But she’s also not the cruel, cold-hearted bitch so many people make her out to be.

love me hard love me soft

parings. jack abbot x nurse!reader

summary. jack abbot isn't a soft man, but he'll learn for you.

warnings. age gap (jack mid/late 40s, reader late 20s early 30s), typically pitt medical drama stuff, hospital setting, work place kind of relationship, they're pining but not kissing, other pitt characters, santos is mouthy, no use of (y/n), but let me know if there's more!

notes. the jack abbot grind is real and alive within me, I need so many more fics with him to come out. not much to say here, but since my requests are open I will mention I do try to keep my readers as nondescript as possible so every one can feel welcome here! please enjoy and any and all feedback is welcome, ask box is open as always!

wc. 1600+

It was no secret to the PTMC staff that Jack Abbot wasn’t a soft man. Rough around the edges and tough as nails, the ex army medic was as stoic as they come. He had been at the pitt for a number of years before you came around, working day by day to provide the best care he possibly could for the people that came to the ER. 

It was a hard job, physically and mentally taxing on the body. Everybody kenw that, it was basically in the job description—but you made it easier on him, and everybody saw. 

You, the nurse who had come in as a temp, were the saving grace of quite a few people in the pitt. 

Jack included. 

he said what? | atsumu miya

synopsis; a compilation of atsumu’s stupid innuendos and (y/n)'s unexpected comeback.

a/n; icl this is dumb af, read at your own risk

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

One thing about Atsumu—he loves an innuendo.

Like, really loves one.

It’s not even always on purpose. Sometimes it just slips out—smooth as butter, dumb as hell, and way too confident for someone way past the age of fifteen.

He’s got a sharp tongue and a terrifyingly fast brain. Combine that with the maturity level of a teenage boy and the charisma of someone who’s used to getting away with too many things, and well—that pretty much sums up Atsumu as a person.

(Y/n) has known him since they were fifteen. She thought she’d be used to it by now.

She was wrong.

She could still remember some of his dumbest jokes…

Exhibit A: The Shared Bed Setup

It was a weekend trip, one hotel room, two beds. And unfortunately for (y/n), three overgrown boys with zero regard for personal space.

Osamu and Suna claimed the first bed without hesitation, leaving (y/n) to share with Atsumu—who, in a rare show of self-control, was actually lying still for once.

Until she started shifting.

“Ugh,” she groaned, adjusting the pillow again. “I can’t find a good position.”

Atsumu turned his head, already smirking in the dark.

“I can think of a few.”

From across the room, Osamu’s muffled voice cut in like a parental warning siren.

“No one asked, man.”

(Y/n) smothered him with a pillow.

Exhibit B: The Smoothie Scene

Osamu had just finished making post-workout smoothies—one of those weirdly thick, borderline gloopy protein-packed ones that could double as cement.

He handed hers over proudly. “Strawberry banana. Real fruit. No sugar.”

(Y/n) took a sip. It was good—cold, creamy, but the texture really did throw her off guard.

“Jesus” she said. “It’s so thick.”

She should’ve known better.

“Ya like it that way, huh?” Atsumu grinned from behind his own glass like he’d been waiting all day for that setup.

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, closing her eyes in silent prayer. “Don’t.”

Suna, who was sat on the floor with his back against the couch, didn’t bother to look up.

“It’s 8:17 in the morning.”

Exhibit C: The Baking Scene

Osamu was feeling domestic, so naturally, everyone else was dragged into a cupcake-making session against their will. (Y/n) was reading out the recipe, Atsumu was licking batter off a spoon he wasn’t supposed to be touching, and Suna was there for moral support only and nothing else.

“Okay,” she said, scrolling on her phone. “It says to beat it for five minutes—”

“I’ve gone longer,” Atsumu said smoothly, without an ounce of shame.

There was a long pause.

Osamu sighed, not even surprised. “We’re talkin’ about eggs, for fuck sake.”

(Y/n) put down the bowl, debating walking out the kitchen. “Honestly I'm just not gonna speak."

Exhibit D: The IKEA Furniture Scene

The mission: build a bookshelf.

The reality: two mental breakdowns, splinters, and a tiny Allen key that had no business being this powerful.

Osamu was reading the instructions like it was ancient scripture, Suna was lying on the floor pretending to help, and (y/n) was trying to force a stubborn wooden peg into a misaligned hole.

“This won’t fit in the fuckin' hole,” she huffed, pushing harder.

Atsumu, lounging beside the scattered box of parts, raised an eyebrow and purred,

“Want me to give it a try?”

(Y/n) clenched her teeth. “I swear to god.”

Suna chuckled despite himself.

Osamu sighed. “Ya walked into that one.”

Exhibit E: The Workout Scene

Someone (Atsumu) had declared it “Group Fitness Day.”

Someone else (Osamu) had refused to participate unless there were snacks after. Suna had stretched once and called it a day.

(Y/n) actually tried. She followed a YouTube Pilates video, flailing through positions that felt scientifically designed to break her spine.

By the end, she collapsed onto the floor, groaning, “God, my legs are so sore.”

Atsumu barely missed a beat, flashing his stupid bedroom eyes at her. “Must’ve been a good session.”

(Y/n) glared but was too exhausted to retaliate.

She had surrendered both physically and mentally.

Osamu smacked him for her.

Exhibit F: The Moving Day Scene

Helping a friend move was always a mistake. Doing it with these three? Borderline masochism.

The van was full. The elevator was broken. (Y/n) was carrying a suspiciously heavy box labeled “light stuff :)” in Atsumu’s handwriting.

“This is heavier than I thought,” she huffed, adjusting her grip.

Atsumu who was climbing the stairs behind her, grinned. “That’s what she said.”

Suna smirked. "Classic."

(Y/n) let the box drop on Atsumu’s foot.

Exhibit G: The Jenga Scene

It was supposed to be a peaceful night. Snacks, a movie, maybe a board game.

Emphasis on supposed.

They were five rounds deep into an increasingly vicious game of Jenga. The stakes? Loser had to do the dishes and let the others post one embarrassing photo on their story. And with Suna—serial picture taker, blackmail king—there was no room for failure.

(Y/n) was locked in.

Unfortunately, she’d been paired with Atsumu.

And Atsumu… did not have what one might call a delicate touch.

He was moving way too fast, yanking blocks like he was hurrying to defuse a bomb.

“Stop!” (y/n) snapped. “You’re moving too fast!!”

He glanced up, grin already forming, offering a cocky little shrug. “Heard that before.”

(Y/n) reached for the nearest block.

Atsumu threw both hands up. “Joking! Joking!”

Suna’s grin widened as the tower crumbled before them, securing his sweet, sweet victory.

Osamu gave his twin a long, tired look. “Yer gonna get yerself smacked.”

Exhibit H: The Ice Cream Scene

It was a brutally hot day. The kind that made pavement shimmer and ice cream trucks emerge from the shadows like seasonal beasts.

Naturally, (y/n) sprinted for one as though her life depended on it.

Now she sat on the curb, cone in hand, doing her best to keep the scoop from dripping onto her shorts.

“It’s melting too fast,” she complained, frantically licking at the sides.

Atsumu leaned over her shoulder, smirk detectable in his voice. “Guess ya gotta lick it faster, babe.”

She froze mid-lick.

Slowly, silently, she turned to glare at him.

Suna reached over and gently turned her head back toward the cone. “Don’t make eye contact.”

Final Exhibit (and the exhibit nobody expected): The Head Bump Incident

It happened quickly.

One second (y/n) was standing on the kitchen stool, reaching for a bag of crisps someone had stashed in the top cabinet.

The next—

Thunk.

She misjudged the angle. Her head collided with the cabinet edge. Hard.

“OW—”

The stool wobbled. She stumbled off, clutching the side of her head, blinking stars out of her eyes.

Atsumu was the first on the scene, hands hovering awkwardly like he wasn’t sure whether to help or make fun of her.

“You good?” he asked.

(Y/n) winced. “Fine.”

He squinted. “How’s yer head?”

She paused.

Blink.

Then, slowly, dramatically, she tilted her chin, shot him a lazy smirk, and said—

“Never had any complaints.”

Osamu and Suna whipped their heads toward her thinking they'd misheard.

Atsumu took a minute to process her words.

Then—

His eyes went wide.

And his face split into the biggest, dumbest grin known to man.

He slapped her shoulder with a bark of laughter. “Atta girl!!”

Osamu shook his head but couldn’t hide his chuckle.

Suna closed his eyes and mentally checked out.

(Y/n) beamed, still rubbing her sore head. “I’ve been saving that one.”

“Proud of ya,” Atsumu said, still grinning. “That was good."

Then, after a beat:

“Are ya serious though? ‘Cause I can be the judge—”

She swatted his arm before he could finish his sentence.

"No."

On rewatch, it kind of reads to me like...okay, so Santos is probably the most guarded motherfucker in the entire ED, for very understandable reasons when you factor in what was probably a shitty life before her current career. She owns up to using sarcasm as a shield, she's goddamn near impossible to talk to on a sincere emotional level, and she herself is awful (by which I mean first, second, third, and fourth-hand embarrassment-inducingly awkward) at being vulnerable and earnest with others.

And yet, she is almost completely unguarded and without her defenses up when she asks Whitaker if he's okay after he comes back from the conversation with Robby. Which, firstly, I think makes sense on a basic level, because Santos very clearly scans people as threat/not threat even if it's not acknowledged with words (Langdon, for instance, definitely landed in "is a threat" with the way he treated her from jump), and Whitaker is pretty much the most harmless person in the entire state of Pennsylvania to anyone with eyes. And, secondly, really feeds an idea I've had that Santos is "bossy older sister" distilled into human form and connects more easily with Whitaker because of it, because - as said above - he's completely harmless and is also keenly used to interacting with probably bossy older siblings.

Not a dynamic I thought I'd love so much. But goddamnit, Bright Spark and Huckleberry make great work siblings.

Busy Bee

parings. jack abbot x wife!reader

summary. you and your son take a trip to the pitt after an encounter with a bee. unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, your husband's working.

warnings. age gap (jack mid/late 40s, reader late 20s early 30s), reader is allergic to bees, overprotective!jack, boy-dad!jack, typical hospital setting, no death, hurt/comfort but mainly comfort, other pitt characters, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. local boy dad truther hopped into the pitt fandom, but this popped into my mind and I haven't been able to let it go. these will probably be a set of drabbles and one-shots if it gets enough traction, but please enjoy and any feedback is appreciated! also I am not a medical professional, but I tried my best to sound realistic.

wc. 2700+

“We got a woman in her late twenties to early thirties, went into anaphylactic shock at the park due to a suspected bee sting. Vitals stabalized after we gave her Epi, but the swelling in her throat and the hives covering her chest, neck and arms is pretty extensive.” 

Just another normal day in the Pitt. 

“It is starting to be that season,” Dr. McKay said lightly as she did her own assessment while a few interns watched, “Did she have anyone with her? Who called?” 

The EMT gave a small gesture to her partner who was walking in behind them with a small boy, maybe five or six, who looked worried. “Couple of joggers passed them and found him with her failed EpiPen, they called after that.” 

Your overprotective boyfriend Dr. Jack Abbott

Jack Abbott doesn’t realize he’s being overprotective at first. To him, it’s just instinct. He watches the exits of every restaurant you go to, always makes you walk on the inside of the sidewalk, and checks the locks on your apartment windows like it’s second nature. It’s not possessive—it’s protective. Quiet, calculated, and constant.

You notice it the most at night. He can’t sleep unless he knows you're home safe. If you’re working late or out with friends, he doesn't bombard you with texts, but you can always feel his eyes flick to his phone every five minutes until you send the “home safe” message.

If you work at the hospital too, he starts doing "casual" walkthroughs of your department, even when he’s not scheduled there. He’ll pretend it’s coincidence, but his eyes scan you like he’s checking for bruises no one else would notice. If you're in a dangerous case or with a combative patient, he’s there fast—and no one questions it. No one dares.

His paranoia peaks when something triggers him—like an overhead page that sounds too much like a siren, or a security breach. He pulls you aside, jaw tight, eyes distant like he’s somewhere else entirely. You have to remind him gently that you’re okay, that it’s not the field anymore.

But he never fully believes it. Not when it comes to you.

His overprotectiveness shows in small moments too—putting his hand on the small of your back in crowds, crossing to your side when a stranger gets too close, instinctively stepping in front of you during arguments, even if you’re the one doing the yelling.

He keeps a go-bag in his trunk. You find it once—fully packed. “Old habits,” he says. But there’s a second toothbrush. And your allergy meds. And your favorite protein bar.

When you ask about it, he just shrugs. “If something ever happens, I’m getting you out first.”

Jack doesn’t say “I love you” often, but his body does. In the tension of his shoulders every time you leave the room. In the way he memorizes your routes home. In the near-invisible tremor of his hand when he cups your cheek after a hard shift—like he still can’t believe you’re here, and safe, and his.

And every now and then, when the walls come down, he’ll whisper it like a prayer against your skin: “I couldn’t protect everyone back then. But I’ll protect you. Always.”

Tornado

I want every non-Midwesterner to know that we are drilled in tornado safety from a young age and know exactly what we should do to keep ourselves safe. And yet we do exactly as pictured in the bottom image every time a tornado comes around.

Also me at the back door this weekend looking into the yard while I hollered for the kids to stay in the hallway. In fairness I was listening for the tornado, not just watching the wind. But yeah, the need to walk outside and watch is real.

voice acting as a profession is so funny because you'll see someone being like "voice actors need to be paid better! like [obscure person you've never heard of]" and you're like "oh I wonder who that person is, maybe I've heard them voice a character" and you look it up and it turns out they voice 137 characters in Futurama and 94 characters in The Simpsons and 96 characters in Adventure Time and every one of the My Little Ponies and 27 characters in Arcane and 96 characters in Kim Possible and 4 characters in Phineas and Ferb and 296 characters in Dexter's Laboratory and all of the main cast of Fairly Odd Parents and at least 6 characters in every Pixar movie and almost every animated depiction of Superman and 473 SpongeBob characters and they've been in every installment of Mass Effect and Halo and The Elder Scrolls and Fallout and Call of Duty and they were in Star Trek and Law & Order and they were 12 characters in the MCU and they also invented t-shirts and the colour green and they got paid a sum total of $3.27 and a mothball for all of it combined. then you go burn down David Zaslav's house with him inside

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: you and dr. abbot have a lot to discuss, and this is just the beginning.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23) unexpected pregnancy, smut mentioned, jack is divorced, maybe angst??

notes: i am not 100% pleased with this, but this is mostly a filler chapter(if we want to even call it that lol). things will ramp up in the next part!!! unedited. any feedback is extremely appreciated, especially reblogs/asks!

wc: 1.3k

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