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Emma snorts. She’s charming, sure—if your definition of charming includes being kind of a bitch. She takes one of the cookies Nia offers with a nod of approval, biting into it like it’s the first decent thing she’s had all day.

“Fuck, these are good,” she says, surprised. “If medicine doesn’t work out, you could honestly kill it as a baker.” Another bite, another cookie. She’s not even pretending to pace herself.

She leans back, shaking her head. “Did I tell you I had to wrestle those salad tongs from him? He called me a bitch for it, too.” She sighs, but there’s something amused in the way she says it. Just another day in the ER. If anyone deserved a medal for dealing with deranged patients, it was her.

Then, with another snort: “You know what the worst one was, though? Guy comes in with a lightbulb up his ass. A lightbulb, Nia.” She pauses for effect, raising her brows. “And I had to get it out. He moaned, Ni. I swear to God, I’m gonna need therapy.”

she   freezes   mid   word,   mouth   still   half   open   and   it’s   almost   like   she’s   fighting   to   not   let   the   words   that   are   coating   the   end   of   her   tongue   to   actually   leave   her   mouth   as   her   arms   rise   up   in   the   form   of   a   surrender.   “   actually,   i   wasn't   even   gonna   use   the   q   word,   i   like   living   a   peaceful   shift.   and   more   importantly,   i   like   watching   you   glare   at   everyone   like   that.   makes   you   look   charming.��  ”   nia   only   does   a   half   turn   ;   just   enough   to   look   at   emma   from   the   coffee   machine,   a   warm   and   teaseful   smile   creeping   on   her   lips.   her   hands   are   now   wrapped   around   a   steaming   hot   plastic   cup   of   coffee   as   she   makes   her   way   closer   to   the   female,   now   elbows   rested   on   the   desk   and   she   throws   three   hand   made   buttery   cookies   in   a   zipper   bag   on   her   coworkers   way.   “   hey,   i   remember   that   guy.   he   tried   to   use   salad   tongs   as   a   surgical   tool,   can't   say   he   wasn't   imaginative.   ”

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It’s nice to see Aurora again. If Emma weren’t so thoroughly exhausted, she might’ve even smiled. But as it stands, she settles for a half-hearted smirk and lifts her coffee in greeting.

“Good morning to you too, Rora,” she says, taking a slow sip. “A more casual setting? What, like this? Feeding stale bread to ducks in a park?”

She lets out a low chuckle, dry and amused.

“You know, if we keep doing this, your grandparents are going to start asking when the wedding is.” She says it lightly, but there's a trace of fondness beneath her tone. Truth be told, she does like Rora’s grandparents. They’re old-fashioned, yes—but compared to her own family, they’re a breath of fresh air. And the way Rora’s grandmother dotes on her? It makes her feel like she matters. Like she’s wanted. That feeling is rare.

She exhales, lips curling into a more genuine smile. “Can you imagine the guest list, though? Everyone from Lexington and Kingsley? It’d be a bloodbath.”

"what? is seeing my wonderfully beautiful face not a good reason to want to be around me?" aurora spoke in a mocking tone, offering a shocked face towards emma. she was aware that it was almost too in the day for both night shifters to be properly funcitioning, the nurse happened to have had the previous night off so she was less cranky than normal. for a moment, she almost forgot that the schedule for residents were more brutual, less structured.

taking a sip from her own coffee cup, rora takes a breath. "okay, they might have been asking about wanting to hang out in a non-dinner setting, something more casual," she explained to the other. "what do you say? do you think you can tolerate their presence another time? or are they too much for you to handle. i won't be offended by your honesty."

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Emma takes a long, deliberate drag from her cigarette and blows the smoke in his direction like it’s personal. Like she’s casting a hex.

“Would be a good morning had you not been here,” she mutters, voice dry as ever.

There’s a special kind of irritation reserved for Jett Maddox. The kind that simmers quietly under her skin even before he opens his mouth. She swears the hospital runs smoother without him slinking around the halls with that smug look and even smugger reputation. And yet… a part of her had noticed the silence in his absence. Not missed him, exactly—just the ritual of sparring with someone who deserved it.

She arches a brow, lips curling with cruel amusement. “Seriously, what are you doing here? Searching for another department head to fuck? Don’t tell me your suspension’s over already, Maddox. I was enjoying the peace.”

he had half a mind to apologise - maybe if it had been anyone else. but as soon as he clocked her face, cigarette perched between fingers like a weapon, he knew exactly what kind of interaction this was about to be . . and it was swiftly followed with an unamused eye-roll. “good morning to you too, fitzgerald,” he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his hoodie, breath still catching up to him. “you know, you could’ve just said hello . . i see quite clearly my absence has been felt.” his voice was all casual venom, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “would be doing the patients here a disservice without me around, emma. now we wouldn’t want that, would we?” his sarcasm was jarring majority of the time, never mind first thing in the morning.

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starter for: staff at lexington @scrubshqstarters location: lexington university hospital break room

The shift has been quiet—eerily so. The kind of quiet that makes seasoned doctors tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Emma’s curled up in one of the break room chairs, legs tucked under her scrubs, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee like it’s the only thing anchoring her to the earth.

When she sees one of her coworkers open their mouth, she doesn’t even let them get a word out.

“No,” she says flatly, eyes narrowing over the rim of her mug. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare jinx us.”

She takes a long sip, then adds, deadpan, “Last time someone said the ‘q’ word, we had three codes in a row and a guy tried to remove his own appendix in the lobby. So. Try silence instead. It’s underrated.”

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starter for: @sleepingbeautyscrubs location: roosevelt fields

Emma yawns, long and unapologetic. She’s just crawled out of a brutal night shift, the kind that makes her wonder why she ever became a doctor in the first place, and all she wants now is to collapse in her apartment and sleep until the next weekend.

But alas—Aurora texted. Meet me at the park? And Emma, fool that she is, showed up.

(She doesn’t want to think about the fact that if anyone else from Kingsley had sent that text, she would’ve laughed and blocked them on principle. But Aurora isn’t just anyone. They’re friends. Just friends. Friends who sometimes fake being each other’s girlfriends. Sometimes.)

Emma raises an eyebrow as she sips her too-hot coffee. “I hope you have a very good reason for dragging me out here,” she says, voice scratchy from exhaustion. “What is it this time? You want me to meet your grandparents again?”

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Her day had actually started off okay. She was finally on a break after a brutal night shift, the kind that made your bones ache, and the chilly morning air felt like a gift from the universe. She stood outside, cigarette in one hand, coffee in the other, just breathing—finally breathing—when someone had the audacity to bump into her.

A man.

Worse: Jett Maddox.

Emma’s never liked him. Never planned to. The Maddox name was already tainted, and Jett himself? Annoying at best, a walking headache at worst. She side-eyes him, unimpressed. “Yes, I work here, Maddox. The fuck are you doing here? I thought they kicked you out.”

──── 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬. @scrubshqstarters

today was the day. two months since jett maddox had last set foot on the grounds of lexington - two months since the board had quietly, but pointedly, asked him to disappear. he had. begrudgingly. this made it strike three, technically, but jett had learned that rules didn’t apply to him the way they did others. not when your last name still carried weight, not when the scars you left behind were half-covered by undeniable talent. his sneakers hit the concrete with a rhythmic pound, breathing sharp but even, the early morning chill biting at his cheeks. the sun hadn’t quite risen, casting the hospital in bruised hues of blue and gray. it was almost peaceful, if you ignored the growing burn in his lungs and the way his brain wouldn’t shut the hell up. his hoodie was half-zipped, black and threadbare at the cuffs, hanging off his frame like a ghost of better years. wind combed through sandy blond hair that curled slightly at the ends, damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead. his eyes were trained ahead but his mind had wandered somewhere far darker, and he didn’t see the figure until - bam. a solid hit to the shoulder. he stumbled, breath catching in his throat as he snapped to attention. “jesus—” his hand went instinctively to his side, checking the pocket for his phone - or maybe just dignity. his gaze flicked up, assessing, guarded. “you good?” voice low, clipped. he didn’t recognize them right away, which made him even more tense. “you work here?” he hadn’t meant for it to sound like an accusation. but for jett maddox, everything kind of did.

[fitzcrald]

If there’s one thing Emma’s good at, it’s hitting things. Well—that, and being a doctor. But hitting things? That’s good. That’s therapeutic. Food for the soul, or whatever excuse she tells herself when she’s smacking the side of the coffee machine just right. It hums in protest, vibrates a little, then finally sputters out coffee like it’s doing her a favor. “There we go,” she says to Breckinridge, smug. “Just needed a little... persuasion.” As if offended, the machine wheezes, groans, then cuts out mid-stream, leaving her mug half-full. Emma stares at it. Blinks once. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

── #OPEN STARTER for lexington university hospital staff @scrubshqstarters

It was too early. Far too early. And that only meant one thing: coffee. However, the coffee machine that was closest to Archer’s office had been on the blink for a number of weeks, so he wasn’t hopeful he’d be getting enough caffeine to get through the morning.

Running on a minute amount of hope and two hours sleep, Archer pressed the button for simple black coffee and tiredly watched as a light began to flash. The machine spluttered and thumped and after what felt like an age of waiting, only half a cup’s worth of coffee came out.

“God damn,” he huffed. “Does this bloody thing ever work properly?” He then turned to whoever had joined him in the hopes of a drink and said, “Does this ever happen to you or am I just constantly at odds with the universe?”

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DAISY JONES & THE SIX Episode 4: I Saw the Light

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OLIVIA COOKE — FOPE "All in Me" Campaign (2025)

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a single-muse blog dependent on @scrubshq . penned by lin ( she/her, gmt+7 ) .

── .✦ 𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝

intro. musings. visage.

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「 OLIVIA COOKE, CISWOMAN + SHE/HER 」🔬  ‧₊˚  ⋆ ــــــــــﮩ٨ـ did you page EMMA FITZGERALD from EMERGENCY MEDICINE ? they’re the thirty-one RESIDENT at LEXINGTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL, they’ve been working here for six years. you’ve probably seen them if you catched a up to a half-empty bottle of wine; the lingering smell of cigarettes; pencil behind her ear; roaming empty streets late at night, the patients that do like them would tell you they are PASSIONATE and AMBITIOUS, but some of them think they’re GUARDED and ABRASIVE. time is rushing, just go and find them.

─── 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

an unruly child. a difficult teenager. the solution? an all-girls catholic school. it didn’t help. the trouble just evolved—kissing girls in bathroom stalls, trading snide remarks with nuns, scribbling on desks, tagging the walls with graffiti. detentions piled up like clockwork. but her grades? untouched. if there was one thing she excelled at, it was succeeding precisely where everyone expected her to fail.

a lesbian. a nun. she thought it’d be funny—a novitiate who smoked, drank, and kissed girls behind the sacristy. but the joke wore thin faster than expected. a few months in, she left with a shrug and a cigarette dangling from her lips, muttering, “i don’t give a fuck about god anymore.”

a med student. a doctor. she graduated with honors—barely, but still. just enough to make her parents think she’s turned it all around. just enough to silence the doubters. she picks emergency medicine, not because it looks good on paper, but because it’s fast, brutal, and chaotic. the er gives her what she craves the most: adrenaline. blood and broken bones, sirens screaming through the night, the high of saving someone just before they slip away. it’s the closest thing she’s ever felt to religion.

─── 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

to say emma is difficult would be an understatement. a former nun novitiate who couldn’t be arsed to finish her training, emma is difficult by design. neurotic, obsessive, fueled by spite and a steady stream of cigarettes, she’s built walls so high they could rival the tower of babel. she’s abrasive, stubborn, and always armed with a sharp retort. getting close to her means surviving at least seven layers of self-sabotage. and yet, she’s a damn good doctor—brilliant, even. passionate, with laser-sharp focus. and when it comes to her patients, there’s a softness to her that catches everyone off guard. gentle hands, kind words. it’s the one place she lets her guard down.

─── 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

she smokes a pack a day. marlboro reds. is she afraid of cancer, you ask? of course not. cancer is afraid of her.

have a secret soft spot for interns, because they're just kids, you know? she puts on a tough front but she actually cares a lot.

a terrible driver. her parking is always off, but does she care? not really. her car, though, is beat up with scratches and little dents all around.

for a former nun novitiate, she curses a lot. in fact, she thrives on the knowledge that she's a former nun novitiate who curses like a sailor.

a middle child and it shows.

─── 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

. . . ANTAGONISTIC. she loves having opps. she thrives on it—one-sided beef, mutual beef, imagined slights, real betrayals—anything that gives her an excuse to unleash her mean, spiteful streak. conflict isn’t a nuisance to her. it’s fuel.

. . . PLATONIC. she's the kind of friend who tells you to break up with your boyfriend over a small argument. he doesn't do the dishes? break up with him. he cheated on you? let's run him over with a car. there's no in-between with her - either you like her or you don't, either she likes you or she doesn't give a fuck about you, but to those she likes, she's extremely loyal to - very much a ride or die.

. . . ROMANTIC. i would love for her to have an exes to lovers situation !! bickering exes who knows each other too well and knows where to hit it where it hurts. bonus point if they're still hooking up on the down low. just #messymessymessy !!

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( tag drops . )

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𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐚 ─── ⋆⁺₊ 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 ✧

𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐚 ─── ⋆⁺₊ 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ✧

𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐚 ─── ⋆⁺₊ 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦 ✧

𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐚 ─── ⋆⁺₊ 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳 ✧