crazygardener
Recent bookmarks
-
Tags
Summary
There are worse things than a crush, Samira tells herself. Ischemic heart disease. Aquagenic urticaria. Hemiplegic migraines. Still—crushes are up there.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 103,103
- Chapters:
- 45/50
- Comments:
- 753
- Kudos:
- 873
- Bookmarks:
- 169
- Hits:
- 33,751
Bookmarked by crazygardener
03 Jun 2026
-
Tags
Summary
“What are you going to do?” Samira asks, breathless.
Dr. Abbot stares at her. “I’m not gonna do anything, Samira.”
A choice is made. It was always going to have to be hers, in the end.
***
or, Jack Abbot likes to praise the smartest doctor. Samira Mohan likes to be praised. A win is a win is a win.Bookmarked by crazygardener
29 May 2026
-
Tags
Summary
“Work relaxes me, Mohan,” Abbot says, not quite chiding, his tone a shade warmer. He leans his hip against her workstation, ducking his head until she looks at him. “If I’m not at work, I’m trying to find a reason to come back to work. Let me read your article. I’ll be nice to you about it, not just because someone should, but because I can tell you without even reading it that it’s good.”
“You cannot possibly know that,” Samira blurts out.
He looks at her with an expression that’s stuck halfway between inquisitive and amused; the left side of his mouth threatens a smile. “Sure I can. I know you.”
++
Abbot and Mohan flirt in the Google Doc comments of her unpublished article. Abbot takes it upon himself to instruct Mohan on how to accept praise.
Bookmarked by crazygardener
19 May 2026
-
Tags
Summary
It's 2019 and Dr Gwen Bevan's first Pride since moving from Wales to Pittsburgh with her wife and daughter. When the night shift goes about as badly as it could, her fellow attending, Dr Jack Abbot, is bending rules left and right to make her feel more comfortable.
Series
- Part 1 of Calon Lân
Bookmarked by crazygardener
19 May 2026
-
Tags
Summary
Our little secret.
She expects it to be like most other things with Dr. Jack Abbot: a passing comment, a breath of exhilaration, a moment of feeling seen—really seen—before she washes it off in the shower with the lingering sweat and smell of antiseptic.
Until. Until a day or a week or a month passes, and she realizes it's hovering at her periphery, and she will wonder when it turned from nothing into something.
Bookmarked by crazygardener
18 May 2026