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nothing safe is worth the drive by houseofstones for darlingsdarling
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
14 Feb 2026
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“I’m so sorry,” she says to the other doctor, losing her train of thought mid-sentence. “I– will you excuse me?” She nods her goodbye as she sees Jack move closer. She can’t bite her smile back.
“Dr. Mohan,” he greets, and he’s grinning, bright and wide and familiar. He’s more dressed up than she’s used to, dark slacks and a black shirt that hugs his chest. He extends an arm, wrapping her into a hug, ghosting a kiss across her cheek. Professional. Her stomach swoops. “I didn’t think they’d let the star of the show hang out with general attendees.”
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or, samira speaks at a panel. someone shows up.
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Bookmarked by blurarchive
15 Feb 2026
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She has given up with polite refusal, finds a tube of aquaphor in the little door pocket that she does not remember placing there but is definitely hers. He can’t make intense, unfaltering eye contact with her when he asks her how she is feeling after a shift, she can leave little white lies in her wake as he drives, can tell him she’s okay, and can’t be stared down into changing her answer. She can begin her decompression next to him in a way she can’t on the bus, can shake her hair out of its tight confines, really check in with her body, with her breathing, can allow herself to relax for a short while, the weight of the commute lifted from her seamlessly by Abbot. She is stubborn, but she lets him.
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Jack starts driving Samira home from work, she thinks a little too much about the music he listens to.
Bookmarked by blurarchive
10 Feb 2026
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She reached a hand out, slowly, letting it rest on the pavement just beside his, not quite touching. Her breath slowed deliberately, audibly, trying to coax him into syncing with it. She gave him numbers, the quiet rhythm of them like a metronome—four in, hold, six out. Again. Again.
Bookmarked by blurarchive
09 Jan 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.
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“You know my dad’s in love with you right?”
Samira must have misheard.
Maybe Lucy had been speaking to someone else.
She must have fallen asleep in Dana’s backyard, comatose from the pitcher of strawberry margarita’s she had downed in the last three hours. It was the only excuse, the only plausible reason Lucy Abbot had just told her that her father, Jack Abbot was in love with her.
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Or only one Abbot is willing to tell Samira how he feels and it sure isn't Jack