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[aubrazilla]

Mohabbot Mohabbat, I love you by AubreyBaubrey

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Samira Mohan Summary: If you need a Mohabbot longfic, I have nearly 100k to feed you. Canon-compliant S3 and beyond slow-burn. Jack POV with YOU as Samira. Takes the challenges of their relationship and through the power of SMUT heals them. Comes with Spotify playlist. Final chapter drops May 10. Content: age gap, work relationship, vanilla kink, soft bondage, soft dom & switch, no use of y/n but uses You POV for Samira, angsty sweet and deep Author’s note: I’ve been on AO3 awhile but never for an active show, so this is my first time circulating to an audience. I slow burn the smut but when it gets unleashed it doesn’t really ever stop Warnings: Dead wife Mary as a Ghost, Trauma-informed, Angsty with healthy resolution, Ending involves non-fetishized pregnancy (planned pregnancy single mother with non-parent partner), 18+ explicit, DNI minors Word count (total): 93k Chapter WC: 3064, Read it all on AO3

Chapter 1 blurb: Waking Mary

Mary had a way to ease me past embarrassment or taboo. She had been the only one who helped me uncover what she called competency crushes on the men in my service. A crush was just a normal physical response, she had assured me. Mary and I could handle those together, play them out safely and find the ultimate conclusion that we were each others’ best fit. The passing interest never held up. 

But I had still set up rules to the game.

“No residents,” I had said. “No power dynamics.”

Mohan had joined after Mary’s death. But I couldn’t help imagining the ghost’s questions and my own answers. What did you notice? 

She has thick black curls barely held back in a knot. She is thin but you’d love her wrists. She’s too young for us. “Stop,” I said aloud. “She’s not part of the game.”

What makes her different?

She looked right through me when she found me patching myself up. She only saw the empty bed where her patient had run off.

“My husband? Just a wound to patch? Insulting.”

“She’s good at her job.”

“Better than you?” she teased. “Does she bring that attention to detail to the rest of her life?”

“Stop,” I said aloud again. Had I been speaking aloud before? “She’s a resident. And it’s not like that. She is the smartest one among them.”

“Among the day walkers,” she clarified, using a term of derision. “If she’s so smart, maybe she can hold her own against the attendings? Thirties isn’t too young for us, Jack. How old do you think she really is? The age you were when you lost your leg, maybe? Wouldn’t her thin wrists be easy to hold down? Is she for me or for you?” 

Read it all on AO3

[aubrazilla]

Mohabbot Mohabbat, I love you by AubreyBaubrey Chapter 3: Pt 1.3 - After shift

Summary: The last of our trio chapters introducing Mary and Jack. We learn a little more about how she fell in love with him and how he won the girl. Song choice: another Hatosy pick, "The Fear" by Pulp is an excellent mood shorthand for Jack's PTSD. Author’s note: I’ve been on AO3 awhile but never for an active show, so this is my first time circulating to an audience. Before Jack can let Samira in, he has to resolve his tension with his wife's ghost and find the strength to take off the ring. WC: 2669, blurb below Read it all on AO3

“And no,” she continued, “I don’t like you because of what fucking happened to you. I—they said you got blown up. I thought you were dead,” her voice choked. “Only for a split second. Just a flash. But that was enough, okay? It was enough to know I’ve been a fucking idiot.” She took a ragged breath, putting back her strong face, the one that threw people out the bar without lifting a finger. 

“And… I can’t let any more days go by wasting the time you’re alive without telling you I care about you. I didn’t realize I liked your stupid face and your dumb muscles until I thought you were gone. Now it’s the only face I want to see.”

“Wait,” I said, feeling myself grin a little and play at being stupid. “So you like-like me, or you just want to be friends?”

“You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you? You son of a bitch,” She flushed, embarrassed that she was reduced to talking like a teenager. “Jack Abbot-with-one-T,” she said solemnly, “you want to be my boyfriend?” 

I remember having the rollercoaster fall in my stomach of being the happiest I had been since the accident and then knowing I had to turn her down. 

“I’ve been dreaming of it since you let me dance with you, Mary. But I don’t want to weigh you down,” I said. “I’ve got to learn how to walk again. I’ve got to figure out what my life is outside combat. I’ll never serve again. I’m going to be broken for awhile. I won’t be able to do much more than feel sorry for myself. I won’t be a very impressive boyfriend.”

“No, but you’ll be a good one,” she said. “Because I know who you are. And I know you'll come back from this and figure it out. Now it’s my turn to be patient. So say ‘yes’, you coward.”

Read it all on AO3

[aubrazilla]

Mohabbot Mohabbat, I love you by AubreyBaubrey Chapter 2: Pt 1.2 - Mary Memory

Summary: Digs into the memories of Jack and his wife Mary. Song choice: Otis Redding's "Dreams to Remember" and Hole's "Doll Parts" are both from Shawn Hatosy's playlist for Abbot and I think speak well to the respective moods of young Jack and Mary.

Content warning: period blood; menstrual sex Author’s note: I’ve been on AO3 awhile but never for an active show, so this is my first time circulating to an audience. I slow burn the smut but when it gets unleashed it doesn’t really ever stop WC: 2667, blurb below Read it all on AO3

Otis Redding came on the radio, [Dreams to Remember]. 

“Dance with me, Mary,” I said, asking her with the full bear of my eye contact. I held out my hand to walk her around the bar. “Please.” She let me stand there for a beat, sizing me up. The two other patrons in the bar were too drunk to even look up.

“I’m doing this for Otis,” she said, taking my hand to join me. That first year she had red and black hair, wavy and pulled up in a half knot at the back of her head. She had a tattoo peeking up between her collarbones, some kind of sword hilt. In her damn Doc Martens we danced close enough that I had to tilt my head back to look in her eyes. That was how we danced when we got married, Doc Martens and all.

“I’d like to kiss you at the end of this song,” I told her. 

“I don’t kiss customers,” she had said with her smile, the intelligent one that told me so much was going on behind her eyes. 

“I haven’t paid for anything yet. Technically, I’m not a customer,” I told her. 

“You planning on stealing from me, Jack?”

“I planned to steal something tonight, Mary. But it wasn’t beer.” I tilted my chin up, my lips closer to hers. “Where can I take you that you’ll let me kiss you?”

We danced, slowly swaying side to side for a little while, until she made up her mind. “You wait out back and I’ll let you in after I close up.”