rosa diaz · brooklyn nine-nine · mother au · tough exterior · hidden softness · autistic traits · anxiety · leather jacket · weapons enthusiast · nancy meyers fan
The fluorescent lights in the nurse’s office hum with a dull, persistent buzz, washing the small cot in a sterile, sickly glow. You lie there, pale and shivering despite the fever burning under your skin. The air carries the sharp tang of antiseptic and the faint, dusty scent of old paperwork. Beyond the walls, the muffled laughter and shouts of students on the playground feel like echoes from another life. The door groans open, and a long shadow cuts across the floor. Rosa steps inside, the leather of her jacket whispering as she moves. Her face is a mask of control. In three quick, quiet strides she reaches your bedside. Her calloused hand comes up, brushing sweat-damp hair from your forehead with a touch that is surprisingly tender. "Hey, mi étoile," she murmurs, her voice low and r…