the idea isn’t finished.

nooshin. 29. she/her. mohabbot writer, samira mohan adorer, baran al-hashimi defender. irrevocably pitt-pilled. I must have had a reason at one time to keep coming back but I can’t think of it right now. fka ssaemilyhotchner. p.s. blank blogs without visible following lists get blocked.

currently watching: criminal minds s19

gif cred: @da-pitt (x)

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when i kissed the teacher・mohabbot punch-drunk・mohabbot just wait and see・mohabbot red wine supernova・mohabbot hips before hands・mohabbot

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pro re nata: literally, "as the circumstance arises"; in medical terminology, it refers to the administration of prescribed medication as the situation calls for it

“Do you want to put something on?” Samira asks. She cants her head in the direction of the TV, exposing the long line of her neck. His mouth falls there on instinct, some base level functionality intact even as the rest of his cognition is molded by alarm.

In answer, he makes a noise of protest against her skin. He doesn’t want to escape to another universe; he wants to be present in this one, just without the pyrotechnics, and his arms unconsciously coil tighter around her waist. 

“Or,” she adds, wising up quickly, “do you want a distraction?”

Jack swallows. “Yeah.”

If he must hear, let him at least hear something good. 

“Yeah? How do you want it?”

Surrounded by her. Immersed in her. Subsumed, dampened in every meaning of the word.

“Want you to sit on my face,” he says gruffly.

—

Samira laughs when Jack walks into the hotel bar.

It’s an occupational hazard, she supposes. ACEP is outright Dickensian in the way it brings together the very best and worst of times, and she knew going in that it was all but guaranteed she would run into someone from her past life in Pittsburgh.

(Did it have to be him, though? Could she not have found Cassie or Trinity, holed up somewhere with them?)

He sees her, of course. Always has, drawn to her as if magnetized. For a moment, she thinks he’ll take a different seat entirely, maybe next to one of the other acquaintances he’s collected over the years who are currently crowing their hellos. Lord knows he should. But the stool next to her is open and it’s only a matter of time before Jack slides onto it without so much as a perfunctory this seat taken? like it was always going to be his.

—

Can you tell I'm faking it? Shane wonders as he leans against the wall the way Ilya is doing. Except where Ilya looks suave and cool, Shane is certain his appearance reflects every bit of the effort he is putting into seeming at home in his body, arranging his limbs to look natural. Sure enough, Ilya looks at him like he can see right to the core of him. Like he knows, preternaturally, that inside of Shane is a mess of wires rather than a beating heart. Not enough, goes the futile click of Ilya's lighter. Not enough. — There are many ways to change your life in ten minutes.

punch-drunk | 2.9k | M

just wait and see · mohabbot · e or, a look inside Jack's go-bag.

Frankly, he could stand to remove the foil strip from his bag. They’ve gone untouched for so long, but only because they hardly use them anymore. He’ll try, on occasion, to be good. To be a gentleman and a responsible adult and a doctor who knows better and all of it will go out the window the moment Samira asks to feel him without anything between them: every slick ridge of his heated skin and the rush, physical and emotional, of his release inside her.

red wine supernova (jack x samira)

Samira isn’t quite sure what to expect when she arrives at the restaurant on the ground floor of Jack’s hotel. There’s no question: the two of them are close, enough so that when she hears through the grapevine (read: Parker Ellis) that he’s been incrementally transferring his PTO to the residents, she tells him he should save some and visit her. Enough so that he books the trip immediately. — Samira and Jack reconnect in NYC.

Jack recruits Samira to join the night shift’s softball team; or, a Mohabbot rewrite of the iconic X-Files baseball scene.

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