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"I prefer chicken," she says, smirking as she mimics a chicken's squawk.
"Oh yeah, wellâŠ" I'm sputtering, not sure of what to say to regain my footing. "Well, you never told me no. So," I huff, nodding as the wheel in my brain spins overtime to construct a coherent retort, "yeah. When I asked if I could see you again, you never said no. So you're just as much of a chicken as I am."
"That logic doesn't hold," she giggles, shaking her head, "how do you know I wasn't just being polite?"
"Because," I start, growing more certain with every word, "if you were just being polite you wouldn't have touched me like this." I step towards her, carefully reaching my hand up to her face and copying her motions from all those nights ago. Her breath stutters as I run my fingers across her right cheek, over her nose, and down her left cheek, her eyes fluttering as he hand settles onto her left cheek, cradling her face. "Is this me being 'just polite,' Victoria?"
"Yo-you," she stutters, leaning into my hand for a second before pulling back, "you don't fight fair."
"All's fair in love and war, baby," I reply with a wink.
for the april request ficlet/game thing: a jack abbot single dad babysitter au ? not nsfw !! just romantic and sweet maybe ⊠would be nice for it to have stuff like: protecting the kid(s) from an accident and hurting yourself in the process but you cant really drive urself to the ptmc in your condition nor afford an ambulance so you have to wait until he clocks out of his shift and finds you injured waiting for him so you can leave and he reacts all worried etc etc :(((( im a sucker for hurt and comfort đ«Ąđ€
Didnât Mean to Fall In Love
Pairing: single dad! Jack Abbot x grad student/nanny! female reader
Warnings/Tags: light hurt/comfort, fluff, flirting, age gap, dead wife mention, a hint of unresolved sexual tension, a tinier hint of smut to come (ha ha) but no actual smut, Jack calls reader sweetheart.
Authorâs note: Iâm so sorry this took forever for me to get to, anon! Life got in the way for a bit, but thank you for the request and I hope itâs to your liking. Title and vibes inspired by the Snoh Aalegra song.
âHow did this happen again?â Jack asks as he kneels before you, pulling the kitchen chair heâs seated you in closer to him so he can get a better look at your scraped up knee. Heâs so effortlessly strong sometimes that it catches you off guard. You swallow thickly as he takes in the inventory of his first aid kit. Itâs not so much that you find his strength sexy, though thereâs no denying that the way his forearms popped just now when moving you around was sexy, so much as you are enthralled with the easy way he can take care of you without your asking.
He had come home earlier than usual tonight, finding you working on your thesis paper in the kitchen after having put his kids to bed.
âEverything good- Jesus,â he hissed, taking in your cut up knee and rushing over to you. âWhat the hell happened?â
âHey,â you squeaked, startled by his sudden and intense presence, âyouâre home early tonight.â
âIâm home on time for once,â he corrected you as he inspected your torn up skin. âThis looks bad. Did you try to clean it at least?â
âItâs just a little scrape,â you told him with a shrug, but the way you winced when he grabbed your leg to look closer told him you were lying. Okay, so it was a bigger deal than you wanted to let on, but it was embarrassing being a twenty something year old woman with such a stupid injury.
âLet me take care of that for you,â he said quietly, and the next thing you knew he was in doctor mode. That was how you ended up here, with him on his knees and you anxiously watching him.
âItâs fine, really, Dr. Abbot-â you start, but he cuts you off abruptly.
âI told you, you can call me Jack.â His hazel eyes are fixed on your face, gentle and searching as always.
âJack,â you murmur, squirming in your seat as his hands lightly traipse over the skin around your injured knee as he assesses the damage. Youâre unaccustomed to being cared for like this, and it makes you, well⊠nervous. Thereâs no way around it. His tender touch and focused attention makes you nervous, though youâre not sure youâre ready to admit why.
âGonna answer my question, sweetheart?â
Your heart skips at the pet name. It was new, he had started calling you that a couple weeks ago, and since you never corrected him, he continued. âI um,â you start, trying not to stare too long at him. He starts cleaning your wound as gently as possible, lightening his touch when you wince. âThe kids were playing in the front yard, and Ripley threw the ball too hard and it sent,â you stop, trying to stifle a giggle, âConan,â you devolve into a small fit of laughter, to which Jack tilts his head curiously. âIâm sorry,â you say, explaining, âitâs just sometimes I canât help but laugh. How in the hell did your wife let you name your son Conan?â
Jack chuckles warmly at that, âbelieve it or not, the name was her pick.â
âIt was not,â you gasp, giggling, âyou canât be serious.â
âOh yeah,â he says, shaking his head fondly, âshe was a huge Arnold fan, and well⊠we couldnât very well name the kid Terminator soâŠâ
âAn Arnold Schwarzenegger fan,â you muse aloud. âHuh. Thatâs⊠unexpected.â
He reaches for the gauze, giving your leg a light tug forward by grabbing it from underneath your knee, and asks, âwhy?â
âArnold is huge! And youâre wellâŠâ
âToo handsome to compare, right?â He winks at you shamelessly as he starts wrapping your knee. You laugh and look away, warming. âDidnât mean to make you blush, sweetheart.â
âIâm not,â you insist, shaking your head, but you still canât meet his eyes. âIâm not pale enough for you to see a blush, even if I was, which Iâm not. For the record.â
âOkay, then let the record show I in fact cannot see a blush, but,â his voice is lower as he leans the slightest bit forward, and places a hand on your forehead. Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes finally meeting his again. The maroon rings around his pupils are flaring with something close to desire, marring the lake green of his eyes. âI can certainly feel one,â he finishes, slowly pulling away.
Youâre not sure what to say, so for a moment you donât say anything at all. This is the closest heâs ever allowed himself to be to you, and his proximity makes you a little dizzy with feelings youâve tried to keep bottled up for the past few weeks. You couldnât say when for sure things had shifted between you, but you knew that they had and you both were doing your best not to acknowledge it, the bubbling tension beneath every good night or the quiet heat of each otherâs eyes watching the other when they thought they werenât looking.
âThanks, by the way,â you say after a beat, gesturing towards your knee. âSaved me the trouble of having to go to the clinic.â
He looks down at your knee again, granting you a momentary reprieve from his eyes, and you take a deep breath. He frowns at you. âNext time, call me.â
âIt was just a little scratch,â you say weakly, avoiding his gaze.
âDoesnât matter,â he insists, firmly cupping your face by your chin and pulling your attention back to him. âYou were hurt. I donât like when youâre hurt.â
âWhy?â You canât help but ask.
The fingers of the hand still on your leg are caressing the skin of your thigh, right above the bandage heâs wrapped you with, and you shiver. âYou know why,â he murmurs. âYou didnât finish your story.â
âItâs not really important.â
âIt is to me.â
You can see by his eyes that he means it, and that more than anything scares you. You hadnât allowed yourself to be vulnerable with anyone since your last boyfriend dumped you unceremoniously two years ago, and it felt almost dangerous to let in a man who most certainly was not in a position to love you. He had loved someone else already, and had lost, and you found comfort in that shared loneliness you both had. But. Heâs still watching you, so earnest and open and wanting you to trust him, to trust that he wonât hurt you like the ones who came before. And if youâre being honest, it feels good to be nurtured for once. Better than good, it feels like home when his hands are on you and heâs telling you he can fix you. So you give in. âConan ran into the street after the ball, and I freaked out and ran after him, but I tripped on the curb and caught my knee on the pavement.â
Jack tilts his head at you, and you can see heâs struggling to hold back a laugh. âUh huh,â he manages, lips pursuing to hold back a smile.
âItâs not funny.â
âItâs a little funny,â he chuckles, shaking his head. âdo you know how spectacularly uncoordinated you have to be to only scrape up one knee in a fall? Itâs impressive.â
âOkay, okay, ha ha,â you fake laugh, which makes him really laugh. You canât help but smile at him. Heâs on his knees, hands on your legs, face just inches from yours, laughing with you and it feels so intimate, and so natural all at once. âFine,â you concede, âitâs funny. Happy now?â
âAlmost,â he says, clearing his throat before adding, âIâd be happier if you promised to call me next time. Let me be there for you.â
âOkay,â you murmur with a small nod, âIâll call you next time.â
âOkay,â he whispers, eyes still fixed on your face. Both of you have moved forward, leaning closer to one another. Youâre keenly aware of the fact that his hands are still on you, his fingers drawing random patterns across your exposed skin, climbing a little higher up your thighs with each pass.
âAre you hungry?â You ask as a sweltering heat starts to spread across your body, each second of his staring making you burn a little hotter.
âI could eat,â he says as his eyes slowly move their way down your face, lingering on your lips before falling down the soft curves of your body, and landing upon your throbbing core.
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đȘ when I tell you guys Iâve been working on a Samira Mohan 13 going on 30 meets interstellar au fic for the past two weeks. đIâm not even kidding, this is so crazy I feel like I accidentally manifested this for her.
Anyway, yay Supriya! Hopefully this leads to more works, and a starring role soon.
my favourite crashtos dynamic is still trinity being yearnatron 3000 and being teasing and joking and going hahahahhaha ur soooo weird crash. meanwhile victoria is just like ??? uhm okay?? lol?? and then trinity will a crashout because victoria wore her hair in two braids or something and she's dying to compliment it but all that comes out is 'who did your hair today, wednesday adams?' and victoria ignores her and smiles a little. like you have to understand trinity santos is the yearner in the situation but is the biggest loser ever. she can not say anything normal ever. i could snort that shit
*texting*
Victoria: I rook a nap and had a dream we were fighting over fish facts
Trinity: you and me? Who won
Victoria: Yeah I woke up pissed off
Victoria: The argument was "squids are bugs like shrimp" and they arent they are cephalopods and they actually have pretty large brains. and you just kept saying no theyre bugs and I was getting pissed
Trinity: because they are. Dream me was right
Victoria: I'm gonna start actually hurting you
Victoria: you piss me off
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Something something Mateo and Victoria are a bit like Troy and Gabriella in the sense that both want what they think they canât have, and being together would break rules, but sometimes happiness demands you break free from the status quo.
Samira, he repeats in his head, and at the sound of her name in his voice Samira thrills. So fucking beautiful. He swears he can see her react to his thoughts, then scrubs his face with his hands, willing the tired away. I need to sleep, Iâm out of my mind.
âWell, visiting hours ended two hours ago, so you canât be here anymore. Got that?â he gruffs out, harsher than intended. But his tone doesnât phase her.
Samira nods, grinning at the man before her. She is tickled at the realization that he believes she is like him, that she is a real person and not just an entity or a vision. âGot it, I canât be here.â
Jack blinks, not able to process the person in front of him. Magic, he muses. I asked for a sign, and I got it. He wonders if this is what it feels like when a prayer is answered, but before he can chase the answer to his own question he determines to get away from her quickly, before he does something stupid like ask for her number or pull her in to tangle his hands in her cloud of curls as he asks her who she is, and where sheâs from, and if she was made just to love him and be loved by him.
Or, Angel Samira Mohan falls in love with mortal Jack Abbot and contemplates giving up eternity to live a human life with him. (a City of Angels inspired AU)
Authorâs Note: this is an old fic that originally posted in May 2025, but that I took down to rework. Some characters have been changed, words erased, and words added to be the fic it is now. Itâs not a huge overhaul, but Iâm happier with this version and I hope yâall are too.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Had to take a brief break these past two weeks from writing both of my long fics right now because I felt like I was gonna burn out, and I also felt convinced I didnât know how to write. Writing is so weird because sometimes you think âIâve got this!â And the words just flow, and other times you stare idiotically at a page and go âohâŠ. Iâm really bad at this, arenât I?â
Anyway. New chapters for both Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants AU and The Wedding Planner AU should post by the end of the week. For those reading either, thanks for your patience.
Idk why my latest movie binges have led me here, but they have and hear me out please:
Driver with Samira Mohan.
Driver being someone Samira meets one night when she stops at a diner on her way home from work. She canât help but chat with Driver over a cup of coffee, taken by the fact that heâs sitting alone like she is, and maybe todayâs shift was so bad she wants to try talking to someone instead of staying closed up. So she scoots into his booth, and he doesnât say much but he does listen, and heâs the first person in a long time to actually listen. She notices an injury on his hand, offers to fix it, and next thing you know heâs driving her to and from work to keep her safe, and he canât help but check in on her at work.
But neither know how to make a move being Driver watching protectively over her, and Samira tending to the occasional wound he has, because neither have ever let themselves love before, and it feels dangerous to let themselves love now.
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Working on finishing up the next chapter of Where You Going, Sunshine? (Sisterhood of the traveling pants au) and while Iâm enjoying writing Emma again, I have to admit that mentally Iâm still stuck on Samira and mohabbotâs chapter, and very specifically here when they talk for the first time:
âOh, Iâm positive I could handle you,â Jack replied in a low, certain voice, adding with a playful smile, âif you wanted me to.â
Samira swallowed thickly, unable to stop the way her eyes fluttered at the insinuation and the weight it held when he was standing so close to her. âIf,â she echoed, the word her least favorite subordinating conjunction of them all. It presented too many variables and conditions she did not want to have to account for.
âIf,â he repeated, leaning in closer. She couldnât recall any other boy ever daring to stand so close. He smelled like dried summer sweat, an airy musk that wrapped around her like melted sun and sweet, dewy grass. She started to inch forward, whether to close the gap or to prove she was up to the challenge he seemed to be offering she wasnât sure. Stepping back, he chuckled, âmy concern has more to do with keeping up with you. Iâm not sure Iâm quick enough.â
Not missing a beat, she replied, âIâll slow down if you need me to, old man.â A tingling thrill zipped through her nerves like little lightning strikes dancing underneath her skin. She wasnât usually good at talking to people, let alone making a move. She was the kind of person who could only come up with the right comeback days later upon replaying an event in her head and revising her initial responses. But there was a magnetic pull Jack seemed to have that clung to and brought out the best parts of her. She didnât feel clueless when talking to him, and she wasnât just talking⊠She was flirting. And by the bashful expression that had suddenly overtaken Jackâs face, she was doing it well.
âAlright,â he laughed, shaking his head, âIâm not that old, kiddo.â
âJust too old for this job,â she teased. âThis is a more appropriate gig for a teenager.â
âYou only think that because youâve never seen a teenager attempt this gig,â Jack responded. âThey donât have the confidence to work the stage or the crowd to really sell the performance.â
âAnd you do?â
âYou know I do,â Jack said, leaning in again, âotherwise you wouldnât have watched my whole set.â Before Samira could reply with another quippy retort, he continued, âto answer your earlier question- no. I did not always dream of doing this. I just needed a break from the real world.â
Jack chuckled, nodding, âprobably, but you donât strike me as the kind to stop just because you see a line.â
âIâm famous for being too strict about rules, actually,â Samira replied.
âThatâs a different thing. Breaking a rule and crossing a line are two different things.â
âHow so?â
âRules are fairly definite,â Jack explained with a shrug, taking another small step forward, âa line is a little more arbitrary, more flexible. You only really cross it if it doesnât bend for you. Iâd venture to guess,â his eyes were on her like a midday summer sun, unforgivingly burning, âthe world bends for you, Samira.â
She wanted him to say her name again, liking the way the syllables stuck to the low voice in his throat like raw honey. âAre you saying youâd bend for me, Jack?â She batted her eyes at him subconsciously, angling her head till her mouth was close enough to his face that there was no mistaking the invitation being given. When had they gotten so close? Sheâd never kissed anyone before, never felt compelled to tangle herself up in the arms of another, but the urge with Jack was second nature to her.
Jack scoffed and shook his head, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as he took a step back and said, âyouâre trouble, kiddo.â
When I tell you that 35 year old Jack Abbot is in for the guilt trip of his life next Mohabbot chapter because heâs falling in love with 21 year old Samira Mohan, who is relentless in her pursuit of him⊠someone pray for him.
Where Jack Abbot makes a bet with his friend (frenemy?) Michael Robinavitch about whether or not he can turn the nerdiest, least liked girl in school Samira Mohan into a prom queen.
