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His face comes into focus then: hazel eyes watching her with an expression she doesn’t recognize, grey hair damp and curling.
“That’s it,” he says. “You with me?”
She nods, the movement slightly hindered by the hand still cupping her face. He leaves it there as he slides the other up to press two fingers to her carotid. She’s watched him perform miracles with these hands—has seen him blind cric a patient without an ounce of hesitation—but she realizes now that he is shaking.
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Or: Samira gets the happy ending she deserves.
Bookmarked by WriterReader18
14 Apr 2026
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sweetness that I took (for sweetness that she gave to me) by simplyprologue
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
11 May 2025
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“And listen,” he continues, and she can watch the part of his brain prone to nervous rambling switch on. “I know the popular opinion is against my general sanity but—I swear to god, I wanna marry you Samira Mohan. And you can say no, and I’m still gonna spend the rest of my life in love with you.”
“Until your other leg falls off,” she repeats, a little distantly.
Jack nods solemnly. “The chance is slim but never zero.”
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Samira Mohan does not cope gracefully with having to wait months for her board exam results. Jack Abbot decides to distract her.
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Bookmarked by WriterReader18
13 Apr 2026
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Now that Samira Mohan knows what Jack Abbot looks like under his scrubs, she wonders how she ever thought of anything else.
Bookmarked by WriterReader18
06 Apr 2026
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"I think there's something wrong with me." It's a whisper dragged from Samira's lips, from the very depth of her.
"I think I might be a bad person." Chokes on it, on the pain, on the terrible truth, the indictment of her soul, of her morality, of her humanity. The evidence - plain and simple - that Samira Mohan was rotten to the core.
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or, The Evolution of Samira Mohan in three acts.- Language:
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Bookmarked by WriterReader18
01 Apr 2026
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“Robby force you to take a break?” he asks when she’s close enough to not have to yell.
“Yeah.”
“Me too,” he huffs. “Like he’s my superior or something. Asshole.”
Samira laughs, bending down to put her coffee down, balancing her sandwich on the lid, and then leans her forearms on the railing, far enough away to still be able to look at the side of his face, but close enough that she feels a little more confident she’ll be able to do something if he… Well. “Should you be sitting over there?” she asks, staring at the slight slope of his nose, the shadow of his eyelashes across on the top of his freckled cheekbone.
“Probably not,” he answers in a casual tone. “At least I’m sitting.”
That doesn’t comfort her very much, but she figures there’s no point in fighting him on it, so she turns and sits down with her back against the warm metal, mirroring him. “You want half of my sandwich?” she offers, twisting her upper body to hold it out to him.
Bookmarked by WriterReader18
29 Mar 2026