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being used to coming here after a few days , you immediately come up next to him and point out the baklava pastry , claiming it’s one of your favorite from this café and that it goes pretty well with a latte .

he takes your advice into consideration because once you’ve left to go sit back at your table he interjects the cashier and ask them for a slice of baklava and a latte . ofc you notice it and smile to yourself , finding it cute that that sweet man actually listened to you .

as he leaves with the take out bag and latte in his other hand he offers a smile you’re not ready to forget yet because you feel like it’s not just a random encounter .

the second meeting isn’t an accident … you think you might’ve manifested to see that stranger again and you did a few days later . this time it’s in the neighborhood bodega . he was looking for some strong glue and found you in the same aisle as him .

“ hey , fancy seeing you here oldie . ” he frowns just a bit but straightens in his position and loose the shelves to hold eye contact with you . that’s how you notice his hazel eyes . you can’t stop yourself from thinking they’re really beautiful but before you can compliment them , jack speaks .

“ fancy seeing you here too , pretty . ” the he ask you what you’re doing here that early and you just shrugs , saying you were looking for some tape .

　⁽ 𝓐𝙲𝚃 𝚃𝚆𝙾 ⁾ 　　ᩍ　　FEELS FEELS FEELS　…　!

oh.

yeah that’s the first thing he thought when he started craving more of … whatever is happening between the two of you . man was genuinely chasing your attention everytime he would come across you ; café , market … cinema once .

then days became weeks of acknowledging each other until it all began to morph into a peculiar friendship . eventually , he also obtained your number and you would organize hang outs that defo weren’t dates because both parts shared a common platonic feeling regarding those . jack had doubts about those platonic feelings sometimes …

he realized he actually loved you when you showed up at the ptmc during his shift . he thought you were the one hurt but when he saw you carry an unconscious child in your arms asking for ‘ doctor jack abbot ’ , his heart found relief [ doesn’t mean he wasn’t worried about the child , just glad you weren’t the one hurt .. was it egotistical ? ]

he would have never admitted it if shen didn’t point out the way he insisted on the fact that hugging you for that long and maintain eye contact for as long as he could with you was not the platonic shit jack thought was going on between the two of you .

singe that day night , jack changed in a way that delighted you . ofc he remained his usual smooth talking self . yet , his precious hazel eyes offered you longing glances , he’d press a gentle hand on your back as he let you enter first in your favorite café or when he passed by you in his kitchen to grab something in the fridge .

the cherry on top was when you received a miu miu bag you didn’t remember ordering and realized it couldn’t be anyone else but jack . that had to be him . it just … felt that he was the type of person to gift you things without a second thought and have it right every time . the shocking pat ? you only mentioned once on an early morning months ago . and he sent it to you nonchalantly .

it got worse when he started thinking about you in ways he shouldn’t .

he’d fist his cock thinking about the short skirt he saw you wearing this morning , your thighs were exposed and he wished they could have been wrapped about his waist as you rode him . he’d hold your hips guiding you up and down his meat , slick coating his skin and a pretty white ring gathering at the base of his length …

　⁽ 𝓐𝙲𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴 ⁾ 　　ᩍ　　CONFESSIONS　…　!

it took jack weeks before he could finally confess his feelings for you ; torn between ruining your friendship and cherish it . but the ache in his heart when he saw you flirt with someone else at a bar in front of him last week convinced him to do it .

and so, he invited you to your favorite restaurant downtown on his day off . that guy was nervous af ! it was the first time he was gonna confess his feelings since his wife happened in his life .

jack literally took the wine glass away from you before he confessed , making sure you were in your right mind for you to give him a clear answer was important for him .

“ you’re the most important person in my life right now , and i would hate to loose you without even trying to earn your heart . ” let’s say you had it coming . you knew it wasn’t just a simple diner from the moment he texted you to get ready out of nowhere four hours ago .

you said yes . and you swore you saw almost tears in his eyes .

after the date , he drove you home . you thought he was going to kiss you but at the last moment his kiss landed on your cheek .

　　　　　　　𝒗𝐢𝐞𝐰　　𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞　　:

　•　hyper feminine ! reader　:　introduction + tag navigation . 　•　jack abbot other works　:　𓇼　.

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Gwayne is surprisingly tender when you’re injured: he can handle blood, violence, and the general brutality of his duties without flinching, but seeing you hurt is another matter entirely. If you return from patrol with a cut across your cheek, he’ll immediately demand to know what happened. If you’re seriously wounded, his composure practically disappears. He’ll help clean your injuries himself, muttering under his breath about your reckless behavior while his hands remain unusually gentle. “You could have died.” You remind him that you’re a knight. “I know,” he replies sharply. Then, quieter, “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Your sparring sessions become Gwayne’s favorite excuse to touch you. He tells himself it’s simply because you’re excellent competition, but both of you know that’s only partly true. He likes the closeness, the laughter, the way you become completely focused on each other. Sometimes he’ll pin you to the training yard floor, his hand around your wrist, and grin like he’s won something important. You stare at him for a beat too long before telling him to move. He does—but slowly. Later, when you’re cleaning your swords, he’ll casually mention that you looked distracted earlier. “You were staring.” You give him a look. “So were you.” Gwayne immediately becomes fascinated with his sword. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You laugh, and the tips of his ears turn red.

There is a quiet tenderness between you that neither of you acknowledges. Gwayne fixes your cloak before patrol, you tighten the straps on his armor, he remembers how you take your wine and you know when he needs silence rather than conversation. Sometimes, while sitting together after a long shift, your hands will rest close enough that your fingers brush. At first, you both move away but eventually, neither of you does. The first time Gwayne deliberately takes your hand, it’s after a particularly terrible night in King’s Landing. He doesn’t say anything; he simply sits beside you, takes your hand, and squeezes it. You squeeze back and neither of you lets go.

The angst comes from knowing that neither of you can simply choose the other without consequences. Gwayne is a Hightower, with all the expectations that come with his name, while you have your own oath and responsibilities as a knight. Neither of you can openly admit that your attachment has become something deeper without risking gossip, scandal, or the fragile place you’ve created for yourselves. Sometimes Gwayne pulls away because he remembers this. He lets you become formal again—Ser, my Lord, nothing more. You immediately feel the distance, but you never force him to explain. Eventually, he’ll come looking for you. He’ll sit beside you in silence before quietly saying, “I was unkind.” You tell him he was. “I apologize.” You accept it, because you know he didn’t mean it.

And perhaps the most romantic thing about you is that you always choose each other anyway. Through every patrol, every argument, every difficult day at court, Gwayne instinctively looks for you. You’re the knight he wants beside him when things become dangerous, the person he seeks after a long day, the one whose presence makes King’s Landing feel slightly less suffocating. And you do the same. There may be no grand declaration, no promises you can safely make, but there is an understanding between you that grows stronger with every passing day. One evening, as you’re preparing to leave after a long conversation, Gwayne catches your wrist. “Stay,” he says quietly. You look back at him, curious. “For how long?” He hesitates, then gives you the smallest smile. “Until morning.” So you stay, that smile of yours he loves so much decorating your face.