Gabrielle13428
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The Body Doesn't Lie (It Bleeds) by thatadrenalinejunkie for Saturn
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
13 Apr 2026
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Summary
There was no reason for him to intervene. They didn’t know each other. Not in any meaningful way. A brief exchange in a stairwell did not justify involvement. She might not even remember him. From her perspective, he would be a stranger—a large, older man in a car pulling up unprompted in the dark, in the rain. There were variables there he couldn’t control. Unknowns in how she would react, how she would interpret it.
He didn’t like unknowns.
He also didn’t like the image of her standing there, soaked through, waiting in the rain.
The irritation came quickly—not at her, but at the situation. At himself.
“Fuck,” he said under his breath.
He signaled left.
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Or, the one where an orthopedic surgeon who hates unpredictability becomes obsessed with the one variable he can’t control.
Bookmarked by Gabrielle13428
21 Apr 2026
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"You can prove yourself this time." Samira leans against the bookshelf, slides one ankle over the other, the slit of her skirt revealing the barest hint of skin. "You can resist temptation."
A beat of silence, two.
"Can't you, Father Abbot?"
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or, the (loosely) fleabag-inspired AUBookmarked by Gabrielle13428
18 Apr 2026
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Titus grasped you by the chin and forced you to look up at him.
“Your entire family must be eradicated by sunrise. That’s inevitable, written in blood.” His eyes looked you up and down, curious, “But killing you feels like a waste.”
“You aren’t going to kill me?”
He shrugged. “I might have to. But there’s one other way to end your bloodline. You leave your family and marry into mine.”
“This is a proposal?”
Bookmarked by Gabrielle13428
16 Apr 2026
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- Words:
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- Bookmarks:
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Bookmarked by Gabrielle13428
31 Mar 2026
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She's wiping at her face with her hands. It's futile. He pulls up outside her building, and she's already reaching for the door handle with her dripping hand. She leaves behind a shiny wet spot. He turns off the car and reaches for his door as well.
Emma stares at him as he rounds the hood of his car toward her. “I'm—”
He doesn't know what she planned to say. Just pulls her close. Use my fucking shirt, he thinks, cupping the back of her head. Christ, he's lost it. But he's already here. So he presses her face to his chest so her tears soak into cotton. He'll wash it when he gets home. They were his tears anyway. He caused them, and he always cleans up his own messes.
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Brendon Park adds a new routine to his day.
Series
- Part 1 of your mess is mine (babyshark)
Bookmarked by Gabrielle13428
25 Mar 2026