PlanetFestFuel
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Evelyn wants this so bad, she knows it must be treated with the utmost grace and tact. It doesn't mean that she is not desperately wanting—her breath coming in shorter spurts, her heart jackrabbiting against her sternum, her fingers and toes tingling. But time passes and no one is moving, no one is speaking.
Sometimes she feels she must do everything herself.
Bookmarked by PlanetFestFuel
20 Jan 2026
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Samira Mohan can control a room, a crisis, a code. She can calm down a patient twice her size and keep her hands steady when everyone else’s are shaking.
So she cannot understand how it happens. How a patient’s hand is suddenly somewhere it should never be, how his smirk makes her blood go cold, how she freezes instead of fighting.
{A story about being completely torn apart and trying to put the pieces back together again. About losing parts of yourself but finding others. A story of love, resilience, and healing.}
Bookmarked by PlanetFestFuel
29 Dec 2025
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He was meeting someone. And he was genuinely excited about it. He had been messaging a woman for weeks anonymously, and he was thrilled to admit they had real chemistry. It didn't erase the pull he felt for the R-3 standing next to him, but he was excited to make a connection.
"Well, I won't keep you. I'm just waiting,” she said.
"No trouble at all, Mohan." He glanced down at his phone and sent off a message.
(20:26) I'm here. By the bar. Blue sweater.
He heard the familiar ping that meant a message had been received from the app. He glanced back at his phone, but there was no message for him. Instead, Samira was looking down at her phone. Then back to him. Then to his sweater and then his face again. Her already large brown eyes doubled in size.
Jack felt realization wash over him. Shit.
Bookmarked by PlanetFestFuel
07 Oct 2025
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She eyes the prickly hair on her shins that’s just growing back in, trying to decide if it’s visible. Unfortunately, it most definitely is, and she lets out an annoyed noise as she gracelessly toes off her shoes again, a bit more violently than she might if she wasn’t as frustrated. Because there goes the outfit she chose. A yellow sundress that falls down to just above her knees is not exactly known for covering up her legs, after all.
This is what she gets for falling asleep mid-case study.
Or:
Samira and how her relationship with her body hair changes.Bookmarked by PlanetFestFuel
29 Sep 2025
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Jack Abbot was very clearly not the kind of guy that Samira Mohan was into.
Which was fine. There was a whole laundry list of reasons that women didn’t flock to Jack Abbot. He was too short: women expected alphas to be taller. He was approaching fifty. He had a job he was completely dedicated to that did not lend itself to a normal sleeping cycle— or a normal life, for that matter. He had one factory-model leg and one titanium and carbon fiber aftermarket fix for a right-side BKA he’d undergone in Germany. He was chock-full of C-PTSD and anxiety and depression and maladaptive coping mechanisms that ten years of therapy had finally put a slight dent in. He had a wife named Maggie who’d been dead for almost seven years. And he hadn’t had sex in those seven years, apart from the handful of emergency DRIs he’d been able to help with here at the Pitt.
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Abbot is the Pitt's emergency contact for designation-related incidents.
Mohan doesn't quite know how she feels about that.
Until, one day, she finds that she needs him.Bookmarked by PlanetFestFuel
23 Sep 2025