Alana ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪.

MASTERLIST ✿ LETTERBOXD ✿ RULES

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alana ✿ she/her ✿ 23 ✿ shopaholic ✿ workaholic ✿ bit of an alcoholic ✿ lana del rey stan ✿ jack abbot enthusiast ✿ cat lover ✿ messy writer ✿

݁˖ 𝜗𝜚RECENTS: manhandling you (RC) • cant get out of it (JA) • kiss it better series (JA) • easy kind of love (JA)

݁˖ 𝜗𝜚CURRENTLY WATCHING: The bear on Hulu!

summary ! After finding out your boyfriend is in a coma eight months ago, recovery was hard. But loving him wasn’t.

warnings ! MDNI mentions of injuries, arguing, coma, surgery, sadness, fluff!!!! lots of kissing lol

pairing: Jack abbot x fem!gf!reader

alanas-masterlist prev.pt

It had been a year since Jack woke up from his coma. The relief of him waking up was immediately swallowed by a different kind of exhaustion. There were no dramatic medical alarms or terrifying psychological breaks. He knew exactly who you were the second his eyes focused on you. But the man who went under weeks ago was temporarily replaced by someone who felt fragile, heavy, and intensely frustrated by his own sudden limitations.

In the beginning, your primary job was managing his deep, systemic discomfort. His body had been completely stagnant for too long, and waking up meant his nervous system was suddenly flooded with a dull, throbbing ache from head to toe. Every joint felt rusted out. Your hands became his main source of comfort, rubbing his aching shoulders, kneading the tight muscles in his calves, and constantly adjusting the mountain of pillows behind his back because no position felt comfortable for more than ten minutes.

The dynamic changed the moment the ambulance crew wheeled him through the front door and transferred him onto the living room couch. In the hospital, you were a supportive visitor. At home, you were suddenly the head nurse, the physical therapist, and the sole protector of his safety. Seeing his large frame swallowed up by the familiar furniture, still so fragile and stiff, brought a fresh wave of reality. The house, once a place of comfort-suddenly felt like an obstacle course of sharp corners, slippery rugs, and doorways that were just a little too narrow.

The first few days at home were defined by a relentless, exhausting routine of managing his pain and trying to restore his independence. His body was still incredibly sore from the weeks of total immobility, and without the automated hospital bed, getting him comfortable was a constant puzzle. Being back in his own space was a double-edged sword for his morale. On one hand, he was thrilled to eat real food and sleep without machines beeping every ten minutes. On the other hand, staring at the chores he couldn't do, the lawn that needed mowing, the leaky faucet he hadn't fixed, galled his pride terribly.

You had to learn how to step back and let him struggle safely. When he wanted to fetch his own glass of water, every instinct in your body screamed to do it for him so he wouldn't spill it or lose his balance. But you had to force yourself to sit on your hands, watching him spend five grueling minutes shuffling to the kitchen and back with his crutches, his hands shaking as the water sloshed over the rim. When he finally set the half-empty glass down on the coffee table, the look of fierce pride on his face was worth every second of your anxiety. Him being in a place so fragile made you forget everything that was said the night you walked out of the front door.

All you could do is push it down and tell yourself it was going to be okay. Finding that small, velvet box hidden beneath his folded shorts while he was in the coma had nearly broken you. You had been looking for pajamas instead, you found the future he had been planning for you guys before the world stopped. Holding that ring in the empty bedroom while he fought for his life felt like a cruel joke. Now that he was home, sitting on the couch with his crutches parked nearby, the ring felt like a beautiful, heavy secret burning a hole through the dresser upstairs.

You desperately wanted to tell him, but a crushing wave of guilt held you back. You didn't want him to think you were bringing it up out of pity, or worse. What if after the night you left he had changed his mind? It’s not like your relationship got worse. It was like you put a pause in remembering you were upset with him and it was never talked about.

Things went back to the way they were before any of this. You kissed him, he kissed you. He held you in bed and made innocent promises to be a better man for you. But you didn’t feel the need to drag the conversation back to life, let alone even think about it. Because if you did, maybe it wouldn’t end the way you want, maybe you would walk away if he didn’t realize how bad it hurt when he didn’t choose you.

You felt pathetic, maybe even guilty for feeling that way after a whole year. Confidently speaking, Jack ripped you out of your thoughts as he approached the couch you were sitting on with your legs under you and a cup of water in your hands it was almost three o’clock.

“Hey, I got us a reservation at the new restaurant. The one with the rooftop seating.” He stated with a small smile shifting with his crutch under his left arm. You had been talking about the restaurant for a couple days seemingly since Jack was feeling better this past month.

“Oh my gosh seriously babe!?” You squealed like a child as you practically jumped up pouncing on him. “I heard it’s so hard to get a reservation there-“

“Careful sweetheart-“ He chuckled stumbling back a little as his free arm wrapped around you. “I have my ways..”

“Oh my god-“ You exclaimed ripping yourself off of him. “I need to shower, do my hair, do my makeup, shave-“

“Baby slow down.” He said putting a hand on your cheek. “Go take your time and I’ll come get you when we need to leave.” He said giving you a small peck on the lips. You smiled as you practically ran upstairs out of his view.

You have the entire afternoon to yourself, and for the first time in months, there is absolutely no rush. You decide to stretch the simple act of getting ready into a luxurious self care act. The clock doesn't matter today, the only goal is to completely reset your body and take your time. So you got into the shower and took your time washing your hair and body thoroughly before shaving every inch of yourself.

When you finally step out, wrapped in a plush, oversized towel, you feel like a completely different person. You sit down on the floor in front if the mirror in the room and mist your damp strands with a heat protectant, and section your hair into precise, manageable layers. Instead of blasting it on high heat to get it over with, you set the dryer to a low, warm speed. You use a round ceramic brush, pulling each section taut and smoothing it down from root to tip. The rhythmic, steady hum of the dryer is hypnotic.

You take your time curving the ends inward, watching your hair transform into a bouncy, glossy curtain that smells clean and feels utterly weightless. By the time the final section is cooled and flipped back, an hour has effortlessly slipped away. Your skin is already glowing from the steam, so you keep the makeup incredibly light and effortless. You want to look like yourself, just subtly polished. You applied a small amount of mascara and some blush and called it a day.

Jack was in the closet rummaging around for a suit when you saw him in your peripheral setting down your white dress on the bed.

“What’s that for?” You asked turning your head slightly.

“For you, I figured we could match and I really like this dress on you.” He says disappearing back into the closet.

You shrugged, because he was right, the white dress did look good on you. It was one of your favorites. You got up taking off your robe and slipping into the dress. It was elegant, thin strapped, and flowed to your ankles. You looked around for your light pink kitten heels and slipped them on. After you put on all your accessories and perfume, Jack slipped out of the closet in a black tuxedo. God, he looked so good even with the crutch tucked under his arm helping him stand.

“You look-“ You both start realizing you said the same thing you giggle walking up to him.

“You look handsome…” You whispered kissing his cheek. “You look-absolutely gorgeous.” He replied taking your hand in his with a small kiss. You both got in the car after it took him convincing you he could drive, so you let him.

The hum of the tires against the pavement is the only sound breaking the quiet inside the car as you watch your boyfriend’s hands grip the steering wheel a little too tightly. He is driving towards the rooftop restaurant downtown, and the casual confidence he usually wears has been replaced by a quiet, vibrating energy. Every few minutes, he glances over at you in the passenger seat, his eyes softening as he takes in the glossy blow-dry and the soft makeup you spent four hours perfecting, before he snaps his attention right back to the road. He is completely terrified. You can see it in the way his knuckles turn white on the leather steering wheel and the way he clears his throat whenever the silence lasts too long.

So when you got out of the car and entered the restaurant, taking the elevator to the top your brows furrowed in confusion. He didn't just book a standard table, he emptied a staggering amount of his money and paid a premium fee to rent out the entire rooftop venue. For the next few hours, there will be no other diners, no clinking silverware from strangers, and no background noise. Just the two of you, the city lights, and a private staff waiting to serve you.

There was only one table seated in the middle of the rooftop, and candles all around it. The sunset creating such a beautiful view you could cry. The weather was perfect, not too cold, but not too warm for it being seven pm.

“Jack..no you didn’t.” You whispered turning to face him.

“All for you.” He said kissing your forehead. He placed his hand on the small of your back and lead you to your chair as he pulled it out for you. You sat down as he took his seat as well. That’s when a waiter quietly came over and poured wine in both of your glasses, saying ‘I’ll be back to take your order’ with a small smile.

“God this is beautiful..” You said taking a sip of your wine as he looked at you in awe.

“I just-i just wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve it.” He added as he took your hand in his.

“Im just happy it’s just us.” You beamed gripping his hand.

“You know how much I love you?” He asked in all seriousness that made your stomach flip.

“Of course I do..I love you too.” You replied kissing his hand.

“Im serious, I’m so grateful that you have been doing all you have for me.” He said his voice was softer than ever before and you could feel his emotions radiating off of him.

“I would do anything for you.” You whispered.

He was so compelled by you in the warm light that caused on your face from the lit candle on the table. You were the most precious thing in his life and he’d be damned if he ever let you slip away.

He clears his throat, a nervous but fiercely determined smile breaking across his face as he pushes his chair back.

"Hey," he says, his voice a little softer, a little thicker with emotion than it has been. He stands up tucking his crutch under his arm and extends his hand across the table to you, his palm warm and trembling just a fraction. "Come look at the view with me for a second."

You take his hand, letting him lead you away from the candlelit table and toward the seamless glass railing at the edge of the empty rooftop. The cool night air catches your hair, and the panoramic view of the grid of city lights hundreds of feet below is utterly dizzying in its beauty. He gently guides you so that your back is entirely turned to him, placing his hands lightly on your waist from behind to anchor you against the rail.

"Look over there," he whispers right against your ear, his breath shaky as he points your attention toward the glowing suspension bridge in the distance. "Remember when we took that spontaneous road trip there two summers ago?"

“Oh my god-yes that was insane.” You giggled as you lose yourself in the glittering horizon and you feel the warm pressure of his hands leave your waist. The space behind you suddenly goes dead silent.

You turn your head back, laughing to ask him why he’s being so quiet, and the words freeze instantly in your throat. He is down on one knee on the hard concrete floor of the terrace, his crutch resting against the railing beside him. The sleek lines of his suit jacket are pulled taut, and he is holding up an open, black velvet box with both hands. Inside, a stunning diamond ring catches the sharp, white reflection of the city lights below. All the nervous fidgeting from the car ride and the entire dinner has completely vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated devotion as he looks up at you.

“I don’t want to waist another second without you. I know how fucked up and unfair I was to you before my accident. Every second you were away from me I couldn’t breathe. I don’t ever want to feel that way about you again. Because I love you to much to let you go. I choose you-i choose you in every lifetime because you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He choked out as his eyes started to water.

Your hands were over your mouth. Your eyes were glossy as your heart began pounding in your chest. The three words you longed to hear for all this time. ‘I choose you’.

“So I’m asking you one, to forgive me. I will never ever, let you go. And two. Will you marry me?” He asked.

Your fingers press hard against your lips to catch the gasp that escapes you. For a second, the entire city skyline behind him completely blurs out of focus, and the only thing you can see is the reflection of the terrace lights dancing off the diamond in his hands. You try to speak, but your throat feels entirely tight, choked up with a mixture of pure shock and a rush of overwhelming joy. Tears instantly prick the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over your cheeks.

He stays there on one knee, looking up at you with a vulnerable, breathless expression, waiting for the silence to break.

Your knees feel suddenly weak, mimicking the very shakiness he felt in the car on the way here. You drop your hands from your face and immediately step toward him, closing the small distance between you. You manage a wet, breathless laugh, shaking your head in utter disbelief at the empty rooftop he rented just for this.

"Yes," you finally whisper, your voice cracking with emotion. "Yes, a million times yes!"

Before he can even stand up to slip the ring onto your finger, you sink right down to the concrete floor with him, throwing your arms completely around his neck and pulling him into a fierce, tearful embrace as you hold him steady.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands framing your face, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that finally spilled over your cheeks. A soft, breathless smile breaks across his face, entirely replacing the panic that had gripped him all night.

"I was so terrified I was going to drop the ring or completely forget my speech," he whispers, his voice thick with a low, emotional rasp. "But the second you turned around, everything else just went completely quiet."

He leans in, resting his forehead gently against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I found it-the box in your dresser while you were sick-“ You choke out as he wipes your tears. “I thought I ruined everything when we fought and then the accident happened and I-“

“You didn’t ruin anything.” He whispered cutting you off "I’ve loved you since the exact moment I met you, and I am going to spend every single day of the rest of our lives making sure you know it." With his hands still shaking a little, he takes your left hand, his fingers completely steadying as he slides the platinum band onto your finger. It fits perfectly. He kisses the back of your knuckles, looking up through his own wet lashes.

"Hi, future wife."

OMG OMG im literally cheesing lmao, yay happy ending!! thank you so much for sticking along for this mini series! There will be more to come ;)

TAGLIST 🏷️ @starsmoonn @miserablydefiantsky @princesscelesticc @mfstargirlsworld @furrytaesss @bleb3 @imabapical @mafercita101 @caroline-the-cat @awesomesuppacoolchick @looking1016 @ttrublechild @sunbonesss @garci7 @abbotsgirl99

summary ! it’s no surprise Rafe Cameron is rough with you but tonight was a different kind of rough you’ve never experienced. It starts with a car argument ending with him showing you not to ever yell at him

warnings ! drunk driving, mentions of drinking and alcohol, praise kink, choking, a little bit of degrading but not in a bad way, manhandling, bondage, foreplay, fingering, rough sex, unprotected pinv (don’t do this in real life, wrap it before you tap it please). also this is like after ward died and left tannyhill to rafe so it’s now where you live with rafe <3 reader tries to be dominant but it doesn’t workkkk! lmk if I missed anything!

pairing: buzzcut Rafe Cameron x fem!gf!reader

You don’t even remember how the argument started. You and Rafe were coming back from one of Toppers stupid house parties, you were drunk, and he was ‘tipsy’. One moment you were dancing on top of a table with the most carefree smile, the next-Rafe was dragging you out.

The front door slams behind you and you flinch. The night air did nothing to clear your head. He turns on you the second you’re outside. “What was that?” His voice is sharp and cogent, louder than you’ve heard in months.

The car keys in your hands drop on the concrete floor. They clatter and the sound makes your skull throb. “It was a party,” you say rolling your eyes, it comes out defensive and sloppy.

“A party doesn’t mean you have to drink until you can’t stand,” he snaps as he picks you up by your waist setting you in the passenger seat of your car. He buckled you quickly, then slammed the door picking up the keys from the ground. He got in the drivers side starting the car.

“I don’t know why you’re scolding me when you’re driving after drinking-“ You slurred out slumping in the seat.

“Yeah well I don’t act like a goddamn idiot when I drink.” He spit out pulling out of Toppers driveway driving home.

“The fuck did you just say?” You yelled instantly sobering up as you sat up straight in the seat. He was silent. His hands clenched around the steering wheel his knuckles turning white.

“What the fuck did you just say!” You yelled as he sped up pulling into the driveway of tannyhill.

He ignored you as he turned off your car getting out. You didn’t back down, you got your seatbelt off and rushed in after him while stumbling. You slammed the front door behind you yelling after him while kicking off the small kitten heels you had on.

“Rafe Cameron!” You yelled trekking up to the master bedroom.

He didn’t answer, the only thing you could hear was him slamming his dressed drawers.

“Rafe! What the fuck is wrong with you! You asshole!” You slurred out as you stepped into the bedroom not letting go of the fact that he basically called you a drunk idiot.

Before you could even blink he rushed you. His pace was quick and he was in front of you within a millisecond grabbing your jaw harshly.

“Watch your goddamn mouth.” He spit out staring into your eyes as his jaw clenched.

You looked into his eyes. As his free hand found your waist, pulling you closer. You paused, looking into his eyes, your breath hitching.

"Rafe.." you whispered, unsure. With it coming out softer than you meant it to. There was a long pause where neither of you said a word.

Until he crashed his lips into yours. The moment your lips meet, it’s slow and deliberate, a sweet, lingering pressure. Then, the rhythm shifts, your breathing catches, and the kiss deepens, becoming urgent and electric. His fingers tangle softly in your hair as he pulls you flush against his chest, savoring the warmth of your skin and the intoxicating way you sigh into his mouth. Every brush of your lips, every shift of your embrace, wraps him in a world where it feels like it's just the two of you.

He griped your waist tightly as he backed you into the wall behind you. Your mouth slams back onto his, abandoning all patience that was once in your body. You could already feel yourself getting wet. But the feeling left quick leaving you empty as he pulled away. He didn’t say a word, he grabbed you by your arms and lead you further into the bedroom.

He stood you right in front of the mirror by the bed as he stood behind you. He was taller than you, much taller, he towered over you from behind. He got closer to you as you could feel how hard he was against your ass.

“I want you to watch, and if you make a sound-I will tie you up. Do you understand?” He ordered in your ear as his hands gripped your hips. His words sending a shiver through you. You could feel yourself pushing back against him for any kind of friction.

“Yes..” You huffed out.

“Good girl.” He whispered straightening back up as his hand slowly moved down your chest to the hem of the small flowing dress you had on, while his other hand rested on your hip.

The dress swallowed his hand as it crept into your underwear. The moment his middle finger slightly touched your clit, you jerked against him trying to not make any noise. You were already soaked as his long fingers moved up and down your slick folds.

“Look at you,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “so fucking wet for me..” He groaned out looking at you through the mirror.

You bit down on your lip so hard to keep you from practically screaming. You didn’t know how long you could keep this up. His fingers slowly circled around your clit as you wrapped your hands around his arm tightly, watching the way he smirked in the mirror. You could feel his bulge growing by the second as you grinded back causing him to pant behind you. Your tough exterior broke the second he slipped his two fingers inside your warm heat causing you to yelp.

“Oh fuck-“ You moaned out your head falling back against him.

The pleasure turned off almost instantly while he harshly took his fingers out of you bringing his hand to grab your throat.

“What did I tell you? Hm?!” He asked as swiftly picked you up in one motion throwing you on the bed.

You landed on your back as you used your elbow to prop yourself up. Your eyes followed him as he disappeared into the closet. You could hear him rummaging for stuff but you couldn’t wait. Your own hand slowly crept into your underwear as your fingers found the sensitive nub, rubbing small excruciating circles. You chased the feeling as you rolled your hips against your own hand.

“You’re in big trouble.” His voice was low and rough cutting through the silence, he was now standing in front of you as you slowly took your hand off and out of your underwear meeting his gaze. He was standing there with rope in his hands.

“I-im sorry..I just-“

“Nope. It’s too late for that.” He said climbing into the bed. He sat on his knees as he yanked you closer to him by your ankles. He sets the rope down beside you as his warm hands slowly slid up your legs. His hands made their way to the straps of your dress as he slowly slid them down your shoulders, in one swift motion he yanked the fabric down under your tits harshly and off your body. You looked so good laying there bare chested in nothing but lacy white underwear. In the dim light of the bedroom, he drank in your heedy gaze.

His tongue darts out to taste you, dancing over the swell of your right nipple before his teeth close on it making your back arch off the bed.

“Mm, fuuck, baby. So fuckin’ sweet for me,” he rasped against your chest, drawing a small whimper from you. He soothed the sting with slow circles of his thumb, followed by a final sweet kiss to the ache. “God my brain goes dumb when it comes to you..” He panted out as he planted small kisses down your stomach all the way to your underwear.

“Please..” You moaned out grinding your hips against nothing. He shook his head grabbing the rope. “Please-please fuck me..”

“I will, but first you need to be punished.” He spit out yanking you by your ankles so he could reach your hands. He pinned your wrist together grabbing the rope. That’s when you realized what he was doing.

“Rafe wha-“

“Do you want my cock?” He asked his hand grabbing your face as your cheeks squished in his grip. You nodded with a small whimper. “Then listen and be a good for me yeah?” That earned him another whimper from you.

He let go of your face his attention back on the rope as he pinned your wrists together. He wrapped the rope around your wrists until there was enough to tie it off. “There you go…” he groaned out with a smirk as he sat up off the bed taking off his shirt and then his pants and boxers. You tried to lift your head to look but your arms being tied over your head made it hard to even move. God you ached to touch him and taste him.

He slowly climbed over you kissing your neck and nipping softly. You could feel his hard cock against your thigh as your hips rolled, your cunt clenching around nothing. He pulled your underwear down over your hips and off of you, bringing your ankle up to his mouth kissing it gently.

“So eager for me baby huh…? You want my cock?” He groaned out into your neck as his own hand moved to stroke himself.

“Please fuck-please rafe..” You moaned as your fingers digged into your palms.

He moved back hovering over you as he lined himself up with your dripping entrance. Rafe pushes into you slowly, spreading you open, he pushed your thighs to your chest as he holds you open for him while your practically folded. Your mouth drops open in a silent gasp at the stretch. He fucks into you with slow, deep, passionate strokes, savoring every inch.

“Fuck you’re still so goddamn tight for me.” He panted as your hands squirmed over your head making it harder to control yourself.

“Oh-aaughhhh fuck Rafe!” You moaned out.

"You’re stretching so beautifully for me, sweetheart." He says hoarsely, stroking your thighs with his thumbs while his cock sinks deeper into you, making you gasp for air. "You take every inch of me so well, so well. That's it." He moaned letting go of your thighs. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him as one of his hands rested on your hip and the other gripped your throat.

“Faster-“ You choked out squeezing your eyes shut as small tears slipped down at the corners of your eyes. He smiles against your neck letting out a breathless chuckle, before planting a kiss there. "That good? I'm making you feel that good baby?" You nodded feverishly as he picked up the pace hitting the spot inside of you that made you go dumb.

“Fuck fuck fuck Rafe!” You practically screamed out. "Yeah?" He rolls his hips into you hard over and over again while nipping at your left nipple. You could feel your orgasm coming quick as the heat spread to your lower stomach.

"Who fucks you best, huh? Can anyone fuck you better than me?" He growled thrusting into you as fast as he could while the headboard slammed into the wall repeatedly, echoing through the room. He could feel you tightening around him and god-that drove him crazy.

“No-no one can fuck me better than you..” You moaned your head tilting to the side to see the way he fucked into you.

His repetitive thrusts have you shuddering, coming undone with a yelp. You cum all over his cock as your body shakes. Your hands are balled into fists as you twist and turn them wishing you were freed so you could touch him.

“Rafe-oh my-god!” You cried out as your legs pressed harder around him.

He really really hopes the sound of you crying out his name is louder than the wet slapping noises echoing throughout the room while he fucks you through your orgasm.

Not even a second later you start to feel his cock twitching inside of you as he rams into you. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum-I’m gonna cum in you baby-“

“Fill me-please fill me-“ You cried as you felt his warm seed release inside of you. His arms give out and his head falls in the crook of your neck as he pants. Your legs shake a little as his cock grows soft inside of you.

“God-i love you..” He breathed out kissing your jaw as he moved up to look you in the eyes. “but don’t ever, raise your voice at me..understood?”

“Yes sir..” you said your hands wiggling above you. “but please untie me now..”

not only was it a dumb idea to fall in love with your attending, it was even dumber when you said yes to being friends with benefits.

݁˖ 𝜗𝜚 pairing: jack abbot x fem!senior resident!reader

݁˖ 𝜗𝜚—CHAPTER NAVIGATION

part one-august 2nd

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

part eight

݁˖ 𝜗𝜚—AUTHORS NOTE

this is the masterlist for this series! there will be no taglist. If you want updates follow the series tag

#݁˖ 𝜗𝜚 adversedreactions

there will be nfsw content in this series! the chapters with said content will be marked with this— ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

hi lovelies ݁˖ 𝜗𝜚 welcome to my blog! this is a safe space, everyone is welcome. these rules are set to protect my safety, privacy, and preferences. if you do not like what you see on my page, feel free to block, scroll or disengage-but hate of any form WILL NOT be tolerated and you will get reported.

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݁˖ 𝜗𝜚CONTENT a lot of my work will be sfw, but some will be mature content, my nsfw works are 18+ MDNI. if you are under 18, do not interact with or request any form of nfsw content. If you have a blankless+ageless account and you do so, you will be blocked.

~additionally I try my best to mark all nfsw content on my fics. or if you simply prefer non-nfsw content i do write fics without it.

݁˖ 𝜗𝜚REQUESTS I will accept request from anyone, if you request I will get back to you as soon as possible but if I can’t respond right away and you request the same thing over and over again-your request will not be answered. I am inclined to delete, decline, or simply ignore if your request is simply inappropriate.

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݁˖ 𝜗𝜚RESPECT MY WORK do not transfer, copy, repost, plagerize, or alter my work on any website, app, or other platform. I am anti-ai. do not take my work and feed it through ai of any kind. my writing is my creative imagination and I expect that to be respected.

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summary ! Jack doesn’t know how to help his wife through depression.

warnings ! 18+ MDNI depression, anxiety, angst, sadness, bedrotting, and thoughts/mentions of sui**de (not reader, jacks old friends)

pairing: Jack abbot x fem!wife!reader

if you or someone you know is struggling with mental health or thinking about harming themselves or others, call 988 to speak to a crisis counselor. Use your recourses and remember you aren’t alone 🤍

read with care<3

alanas-masterlist

It started off slow, you had never fully let him see this side of you. You thought you could tame it, keep it bottled up. But he started to notice the way you got quieter and didn’t want to do anything. Tonight was when he truly he realized, you called out of work for a week and all you were doing was laying in bed, at first Jack thought it was silent protest and that you were mad so he slept on the couch.

He stood in the doorway of the bedroom, watching the room fall into shadows as the late afternoon light faded away into darkness. He had just finished cooking dinner for you on his night off and wanted to try and get you to eat. You were tucked under the blue duvet, staring blankly at the wall, he could see the slow rise and fall of your chest through the blanket. The silence was heavy, broken only by the soft hum of the ceiling fan. His heart sank as he stepped closer.

You hadn’t even noticed he was in the room. He’s waiting for you to say something, to give him a single clue about how to help you. But the room feels like it’s underwater, and you can barely even hear your own thoughts through the static.

It hit him all at once, the way you'd been canceling on their friends, how you stopped listening to your favorite podcasts, and the tired, empty look in your eyes that you tried to hide with a weak smile whenever your eyes met his. The vibrant, laughing person he knew had slipped behind a wall of sheer emotional exhaustion, completely depleted. He didn’t know how to help, let alone bring it up to you.

He slowly walked over to the bed sitting on the side of it. That’s when you looked at him for the first time all day.

Your eyes gave it away first. They’re open, but barely, like keeping your lids up took too much actual effort you didn’t have in you. The skin underneath is smudged a dull purple color, and you blink slow, as if every blink could be the one you don’t come back from. Your face looks heavier somehow. The corners of your mouth are pulled down, not in a frown, just dropped, like the muscles forgot how to hold them up.

Your skin is pale around your nose and forehead, but your cheeks have that worn, flushed look you get when you’ve been running on nothing for too long.

You’re here, but he can tell you’re somewhere else too. Somewhere quieter, where you don’t have to be awake or present. He took in you frail appearance and gently moved a strand of hair out of your face.

“You hungry?” He asked quietly. “I made dinner sweetheart.” He said gently hoping that you would want to eat with him instead of this being his third meal alone.

You debated it in your head, you calculated how much energy you had even though you’ve been lying in bed all day. How much energy it would take you to get up and eat at the table seemed to make your brain short circuit. But you couldn’t help but look at him and feel guilty. Because it wasn’t his fault that you were mentally stuck. It wasn’t his fault in the slightest and maybe that’s why simply being around him hurt.

“Okay..I’ll be out there in a second.” You mutter your voice practically a whisper as your eyes left his staring back at that one spot on the wall.

He didn’t want to bargain or push you to get up right away. He wished he could just shake the answers out of you and figure out what’s wrong for himself. But he couldn’t. So with a small, quiet nod, he got up stepping out of the room. He sat himself at the table in front of his plate staring at yours next to his praying you would come out.

You lied still debating on whether to push yourself and get the hell up or wallow in self pity. You couldn’t keep doing this to him, you knew you couldn’t. So slowly you tried to get up.

Gravity has a cruel way of multiplying every time you try to get up or even roll over. Every muscle feels anchored to the mattress by invisible iron weights, making the simple act of sitting up a monumental, exhausting chore. Your eyelids are impossibly heavy. A bone-deep exhaustion radiates behind them. You finally swing your legs over the side of the bed, planting your feet on the cold floor, but the physical heaviness is quickly eclipsed by an emotional hollow as you wish you could just rot into the bed.

You were in the same shorts and oversized hoodie from your college years, for the past couple of days. Yeah you showered but you couldn’t say you washed your hair or even cared to shave.

You slowly walked out of the room tucking your hair behind your ears, when you made it down the hallway you saw him sitting at the table. Your plate right next to his made your heart ache, has he been doing this all week? He had a faint smile when he saw you finally come out and sit down in the chair next to him with your plate of pasta in front of you. Even though you couldn’t bear the thought of eating, you just wanted to reassure him.

“Glad you joined me..I’ve missed you.” He said before taking a bite of his food. You fidgeted with your nail beds, avoiding looking at him.

“I’m right here.” You huffed out trying to make it seem like he was being unreasonable. But he wasn’t. He was merely trying to get answers or some sort of understanding.

“Baby i-i know that. Just feels like you’ve been hiding in that room. Hiding yourself away.” He claimed setting his fork down as his eyes never left you.

“Jack-I’m not hiding okay? Im-“ You paused searching for the words, your tone was bitter-almost rude and defensive. “I’m just tired.” You said glancing at him for a second.

“Well at least eat something..” He said giving up entirely on trying to get answers seeming your walls were completely up.

So by the end of the week when nothing had changed he had no idea what to do.

Every day felt like he was standing on a fragile bridge, terrified that the wrong step, the wrong question, or the wrong tone will make it all collapse. He wants to fix it. He wants to tell you everything will be okay, but he knows you can't hear that right now. Instead, he finds himself researching therapists late at night on the couch that has temporarily became his bed to give you space, reading forum threads where others share this exact quiet, helpless ache. He’s learned the hard way that unsolicited advice just makes you pull away.

It’s a constant, agonizing balancing act between wanting to carry the world for you on his shoulders, and knowing he just needs to be a steady presence to lean on without burning out himself.

After all he’s still juggling the ED, SWAT, and now trying to figure out how to get you out of this grey area. The only person he can talk to about it is Robby. So that’s what he does. One morning while you’re still asleep he goes into the garage dialing Robby’s number. He paces back and forth waiting with a frustrated “come on man” until he finally answered.

“Hello?” Robby answered into the phone.

“Hey man-listen I need your advice on something.” Jack said holding the phone to his ear.

“Yeah sure, shoot.” Robby quipped.

“I-how do you help someone who’s struggling at the bottom..” Jack said quietly as of it speaking it out loud would burn him.

“Jack, what’s going on brother?” Robby asked concerned.

“My wife she-“ Jack couldn’t even finish before his eyes started watering. “She’s going through something, depression I think. She won’t get out of bed Micheal.” Jack choked out his hand scrubbing over his jaw to stop him from crying.

The line went quiet for a couple moments.

“You need to show her you’re real, that you’re not leaving just because she’s in a grey area. Come on, you’ve seen it in so many phych patients. She doesn’t want to talk to you because she probably cant handle the emotions or feeling like a burden.” Robby said.

“She’s not a psych patient-she’s my wife. I just don’t want to push her even further away from me.” Jack muttered rubbing his eyes.

“She won’t, don’t jump at her. Just show her you’re there quietly without saying it out loud-“ That’s when Robby was cut off by Dana yelling at him about patient nonsense. “Listen man, if you need to talk to me about it more, just call me, but right now I gotta go. Trauma calls.” Robby ranted.

“Yeah-yeah, I will, thanks man.” Jack said quickly before hanging up.

Robby wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t entirely right.

So by the next week, the shame of doing nothing was suffocating. Sensing the episode, he didn't try to pull you out of bed like he had been trying to do over and over again. Instead, he brought a piece of the world to you. He cracked the bedroom window an inch, letting the cool autumn air cut through the staleness of the room trying to remind you that the world was still real-that he was real too. He sat at the foot of the bed with two bowls of soup.

He didn't force you to sit up or engage in heavy conversation with him. He just ate his dinner quietly, threw out a random, low-stake joke about a patient he dealt with earlier in the day, and left a warm mug of tea on your nightstand.

For the first time in days, you took a sip.

The next evening you decided to really push yourself and take a real shower. The first step into the shower feels like breaking the surface of the water after drowning. For the past two weeks, your skin has felt like a physical record of your depression and anxiety-heavy, oily, and thick with the scent of the bed sheets you couldn’t leave, let alone change. As the hot water hits your chest, it is a shock to your nervous system, so intense it almost stings, but the relief is instant. You just stand there under the warm stream for the first five minutes, letting the water run over your face and hair, watching the invisible weight of the past week literally wash down the drain making you feel a bit more alive.

The shampoo working into your scalp feels like a painful, beautiful exorcism. You scrub with an urgency that borders on desperate, using your nails to break through the buildup, watching the suds before rinsing clean. When you finally lather the body wash over your skin, washing away the sweat of a dozen panic attacks and endless hours of tossing and turning, you feel human again. You step out of the steam, shivering slightly in the cool bathroom air, and you take a look in the mirror.

Your skin is raw and your hair is dripping, and for the first time in a weeks, you recognize the person looking back at you.

When you entered the bedroom you saw Jack taking off all the bed sheets, duvet covers, and pillow cases. At first you were confused but you didn’t want to overthink it, so you walked straight to the dresser getting out clothes. You got out a new pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt.

“Im gonna wash the bedding for you, I’ll get you a different blanket for the meantime.” He says softly walking up to you with all the bedding. He doesn’t say anything, just kisses your forehead gently before walking off.

He didn’t even wait for you to respond, he just went straight to the washer throwing in the bedding as you got dressed. He came back into the room with multiple blankets, you were sitting on the bed with you legs crossed on the verge of tears because you couldn’t get the knots out of your hair. He noticed, he set the blankets down next to you and quietly sat behind you. He grabbed the hairbrush from your lap and as you were too tired to even hold your own head up. The weight of the day presses down on your shoulders and it’s like he can visibly see the tension in your muscles, but his hands are incredibly light as he gathers your hair.

He doesn't ask you to explain why you can’t do this on your own. He just breathes softly above you and starts at the very tips of your strands brushing gently. He works centimeter by centimeter, untangling the knots from the bottom up, he learned how to untangle women’s hair from having to do it for his sister. The only sounds are the soft sweep of the bristles and his steady, calming breath. His fingers occasionally brush against your neck, warm and grounding almost.

You close your eyes and let yourself completely go limp against his touch, safe in the quiet space he is creating for you.

You didn’t even realize he’d finished brushing your hair, because now you are leaning back against him with your head resting on his shoulders. Every fiber of your being screams at yourself to turn around, to bury your face in his chest and just let him hold you. You know he loves you. You know he genuinely wants to be here, to carry some of this crushing weight. But looking at him, seeing the concern and the sadness in his eyes, you are suddenly hit with this overwhelming, suffocating wave of guilt.

You feel like a broken thing that will just ruin whatever you touch. The voice in your head gets louder, whispering that he deserves so much better than this lifeless version of yourself. He deserves a partner who can laugh with him, who can engage, who isn't a constant source of worry.

So, you do the only thing you feel capable of doing. You push him away.

“I think i’m gonna go to sleep.” You whispered.

He doesn’t say anything. Just a simple nod as he shuffles off the bed walking out of the room.

Hearing the rejection in your own words makes the guilt burn even hotter in your throat. You know you’re hurting him by pushing him away. You can hear the sigh he lets out, the quiet heartbreak in his quiet shuffle as he eventually stands up and walks out of the bedroom. The shame of what you’ve just done sits heavy on your chest. You want to apologize, to run after him and explain that it’s not him, it's just the black hole inside your own brain that’s makes all these decisions for you.

But the fatigue is paralyzing, and the fear that you are simply a burden is far stronger than your ability to cope.

The main reason you couldn’t find yourself opening up to him is because of the guilt. The guilt of speaking your own pain out loud feels heavier than the depression itself. When you look at him, you don’t just see your husband. You see a man who survived the absolute worst of humanity during the war, who carries scars both visible and invisible that you will never truly understand. Next to his trauma, your emptiness feels incredibly small, selfish, and deeply unearned.

How dare you complain about feeling hopeless when he has stared real, horrific devastation in the face and managed to keep moving forward? He has already carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He deserves a peaceful home and a strong partner, not a wife who adds to his emotional burden with problems you can't even fully explain or understand yourself. Even though he loves you, a terrifying part of you worries that if you tell him you’re drowning, he will look at you and think your struggles are trivial compared to what he went through.

By the time the next night rolled around he had had enough. He had enough of you pushing him away and he couldn’t deal with you pushing him out anymore. He walked into the room to see you just laying on your side staring at the wall.

“Can we talk?” He asked closing the door behind him.

“I don’t know…I’m tired and-“

“No. No-you’re not shutting me out again.” He said cutting you off as he stepped closer into your eyes line

“I’m not shutting me you out Jack-“

“Yes you are, for the past three weeks you have pushed me away in every way possible.” He said firmly standing his ground. There was no way for you to escape this. You slowly sat up bringing your knees to your chest.

“What do you want me to say? That I’m mental? You shouldn’t have to deal with that-“ You choked out.

“So what!” He said, he wasn’t yelling, his voice was slightly raised but not in anger.

“So what?” You repeated confused and hurt thinking maybe you were right-he doesn’t care. But that was farthest from the truth.

“So it’s not gonna be easy it’s gonna be really hard.” He said stepping closer as he knees hit the bed. “We’re gonna have to work at this everyday, but I want to do that because I want you. I want you for a lifetime and this doesn’t change anything for me.”

You sat there, watching the frustration finally break through his usual patience. He took a deep breath, looked straight into your eyes, and spoke with a raw honesty he hadn’t shown before.

"I am done letting you slip away every time things get heavy, I know we haven’t been through this together before-but I’m here. I love you, I love you so much, and I am not going anywhere, so stop trying to force me out every time I try and get close. Every single time you get overwhelmed, you pull back, you shut down, and you build this wall like you're protecting me, or yourself from something. But marriage, a relationship, us-it means we handle the dark stuff together. I’m fed up with playing this game where I have to guess if you’re going to let me in today.

I’ve seen too many people die because they don’t speak up about getting the help that they so desperately need. I’ve lived through loosing so many friends over the years because nobody was truly there for them. I will not-will not! Let that happen to you. I don’t care how messy it gets, and I don't care if you think you're a burden. You aren't. Not to me.

I chose you, completely, and that means I chose to be here for the hard parts too. I am not going to let you struggle alone anymore. I’m staying right here, and we are going to figure this out together, because you are my wife and I vowed through sickness and in health that I’d be with you every step of the way. So this is me trying to do that for you because I couldn’t imagine a world without you."

Your heart hammered against your ribs, the sheer force of his words leaving you completely exposed. The wall of defense you had spent weeks carefully building up didn't just crack. It shattered right in front of him. For the first few seconds, you couldn't even breathe. A wave of fierce defensiveness flared up inside you, and your instinct was to snap back, to find a reason to run to the other room just to escape the intensity of his gaze.

But as you looked at the fierce determination in his eyes, the anger melted into pure, terrifying vulnerability. You felt exposed, stripped of your armor, and incredibly small. The tears came before you could stop them, hot and blurring your vision. It was a suffocating mix of immense relief and profound guilt. You hadn't realized just how much your emotional absence was hurting him.

Your throat tightened so hard you could barely breathe normally, but the heavy weight in your chest finally started to lift. You didn't reach out immediately, but for the first time in months, you didn't back away either. You just sat there, completely undone, finally letting him see the mess you had been trying so hard to hide as he moved to hold you in his arms.

summary ! After finding out your boyfriend is in a coma all you can do is be there for him in hopes he’ll wake up.

warnings ! MDNI mentions of injuries, arguing, bomb raid, GSW, coma, surgery, sadness, mentions of, sulking, stress, and suffering.

pairing: Jack abbot x fem!reader

alanas-masterlist. prev.pt

The days started to blend together as you sat in the same chair for weeks practically rotting away. The hospital room hums. Machines beep in a slow, steady rhythm that’s become the soundtrack of your days. You sit in the chair next to his bed. The vinyl is cracked and it sticks to the back of your legs, but you don’t move. His hand is in yours, as your heart aches for the feeling of his hand squeezing yours back.

The worst part isn’t the machines. It’s the replay in your head. You sit next to him and the beep of the heart monitor lines up perfectly with the last words you said. That’s how we left it. You, begging him to choose you over SWAT. Him, quiet in the doorway when you didn’t turn around.

You’d give anything to take those six words back-‘I guess you made your choice’. You tell him that, out loud, to a room that smells like antiseptic and plastic. Your voice cracks on sorry and there’s no eye roll, no sigh, no ‘we’re okay’ coming back. Just the ventilator exhaling for him. You watch his chest rise.

Each one feels like a borrowed second you don’t deserve. You keep thinking about how stubborn he is. How he called you that night, even mad, just to say goodnight.

You talk to fill the silence, and every story lands wrong because it doesn’t end with him interrupting you how he always would. You’d trade every peaceful memory for five minutes of that stupid argument, just to end it differently. To say I love you instead of pushing him away. To walk back through that door and work it out. The guilt sits in your ribs like a stone.

He can’t hear you, or maybe he can, and you don’t know which one hurts more.

You talk to him. You tell him about the dumb stuff: that the coffee from the cafeteria still tastes burnt, that his mom called again, that our plant at home is somehow still alive. Your voice sounds too loud in the room, then too small. The nurses come in every few hours. You step aside while they turn him, check tubes, adjust blankets, making sure he’s still stable.

You’ve memorized the routine by now. You know how to keep the cord from tugging when you move his arm to rub lotion into his skin so it doesn’t get dry, or when you brush his hair to keep it from matting against the bed.

Time gets weird here. Mornings blur into noon when the light hits the linoleum just right. You sit and watch his chest rise and fall. That’s the only movement, and you hold your breath without meaning to, syncing with it, trying anything that makes you feel close to him.

You bring books from home and read out loud until your throat gets scratchy or you start to cry realizing he can’t hear you anymore. You play his favorite songs low on your phone, one earbud in, the other tucked under his pillow. You don’t know if he hears any of it, but apart you thinks that maybe somewhere in his sleep he can hear it-hear you.

The doctors say he might. They also say he might not. So you keep talking.

Leaving at night is the hardest part. You smooth his curly hair back, the way he hates when he’s awake because it gets messy but won’t admit out loud he loves the way it feels. You kiss his forehead.

It’s routine now, but it never feels routine. Walking to the parking lot, the cold air hits your face and you realize you haven’t been outside in ten hours.

Your body feels heavy and weightless at the same time. You go home. You sleep. And in the morning, you come back. Because showing up is the only thing you know how to do, and he’d do the same for you.

It wasn’t any different tonight. You walked out of the hospital with tears in your eyes for leaving him alone once again as you got into your car. You started the engine as your stomach bubbles with guilt.

When you finally made it home you dropped your keys in the bowl by the front door and kicked off your shoes. You walked to the bedroom and connecting bathroom as you started to the shower, eager to wash away the smell of hospital.

When you finished up in the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself, you rummaged through Jacks dresser drawer looking for your favorite pair of sweatpants and one of his black t-shirts. You quickly changed into his clothes that smelled like him, the scent alone made your eyes subconsciously water.

Right as you were about to close the drawer, a small dark blue velvet box under a pair of shorts caught your attention. Your stomach drops before your brain catches up. You pull it out and it’s heavier than you expected. For a second you just stare at it sitting in your palm. You crack it open.

The ring catches the light from the moonlight shining through his window and throws these tiny, sharp sparks across the ceiling. It’s simple, not flashy. A thin band, one stone. Exactly the kind you once pointed at in a store window when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Your hands start shaking and your vision blurs. You snap the box shut like it’ll explode if you keep it open too long. You shove it back under the shorts, arrange the clothes the way they were as you slowly closed the drawer. Tears slipped your eyes as you couldn’t help but smile. This whole time he had this little box hiding away in his drawer and you had no idea.

This couldn’t have been worse timing. As much as you loved the idea, he wasn’t coherent to know you found it. Even if he wasn’t in a coma, he didn’t choose you. Seeing this box hurt you more than you anticipated.

You lied in bed for hours trying to sleep, but you couldn’t. Not after seeing the ring. So you did what any person would do in this situation, you drove all the way back to the hospital at five in the morning. You needed to be with him, to be by his side after what you just saw.

You got out of your car slinging your hospital bag over your shoulders walking through triage as Lisa took you back. You always entered this way because they never made you wait in the line or fill out the nonsense forms. The first pair of eyes you where met with was Robbys.

“Why aren’t you up there with Jack?” He asked confused leaning over the nurses station as you practically stood like a statue.

“I just went home to shower, I came back because I couldn’t sl-“

“He’s awake.” He said cutting me off. He continued to speak but my ears started ringing the second he uttered the word ‘awake.’

I didn’t say anything, i clutched my bag as I ran past nurses and doctors as I made my way to the stairs. The elevator would take to long and I needed to be there now. My tired legs carried me up the stairs as I finally reached the third floor. I ran past patient rooms, and the guest check in and trekked to his room at the end of the long ICU hallway. You’ve done this walk every day for weeks, so your body knows the steps before your brain does.

When you finally made it to his room your hand is shaking on the door handle. You push it open.

The room is the same. Same beeping machines, same pale blue blanket, same window with the blinds half down. But he’s not.

He’s awake.

He’s propped up on the pillows and his eyes are open, looking right at the door. Looking right at you. For a second you just freeze there, because your brain doesn’t trust it. You’ve dreamt this exact moment too many times. Your brain doesn’t believe this is real. Then he blinks.

Slow, like he’s still figuring out how. And the corner of his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but it’s his.

The sound that comes out of you isn’t a word. It’s something broken and loud and relieved all at once. Your bag drops to the floor. You cross the room in three steps and your hands hover over him because you’re scared to touch, scared this will disappear.

“Hey,” he rasps. His voice is rough from the tube they just took out, but it’s his voice.

You cover your mouth with both hands. Tears hit before you even realize your crying. He’s here. He’s actually here.

You finally reach for his hand. It’s warm. And this time, his fingers curl around yours and squeeze back.

ugh hate coma Jack sm like no don’t die ur so sexy aha 🥲 but yay he woke up!!! I think this will be the last chapter but I might do an epilogue of him proposing! ;) thank you for all the love and support, and if you like my writing, follow and stay tuned for upcoming fics 🤍

summary ! A glimpse into your mornings with your husband when he’s not working nights!

warnings ! Fluff, lots and lots of fluff, kissing, slight makeout, groping, pet names like “sweetheart.” “babe.” “baby.” “my love” “my diamond” “goddess Devine”

pairing: Jack abbot x fem!wife!reader

alanas-masterlist

It was a sunny morning, the kind of morning where you felt at peace. Like you had no obligations to the world. The sun that crept through the linen curtains was gradient, a mix of honey and amber that casted on your face as you slept. The gentle chirping, twittering, and melodic warbling of birds was like music. Not only that, but you were warm.

Your favorite part about mornings like this was the fact that your husband was in bed next to you, no loyalty to the night shift, no buzzing of his phone calling him to work. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, somehow in your sleep you shifted on top of him, one of his hands on your back and the other anchoring your hip. He looked peaceful while he slept, fragile even. Moments like this, he was just Jack.

Your Jack.

You admired him, the way his eyes wrinkled in the corner, and how his skin was so soft and warm against yours. If you didn’t have a life you would just lay here forever watching him sleep. But sadly it’s already eight am.

You slowly slipped off of him trying to be as quiet as possible, your feet hit the cold wood floor as you slowly crept out of the room. You made your way to the kitchen heading straight for the coffee maker. The house was cold, maybe even more so because you were in light pink shorts and one of Jacks white tees. The coffee pot rumbled as you got out two mugs. The mug you used everyday was forest green, his was brown, he bought both when you two traveled to Colorado to visit his mom.

The sound of the coffee machine woke Jack from his sleep. He stepped out of the room with his crutch rubbing his eyes with one of his hands. He was in grey sweatpants and no shirt, his hair was slightly ruffled from sleep. None of that mattered, because when you turned to look at him, it was like your soul was melting. He walked up to you slowly as you leaned back against the counter putting his crutch to the side with a small smile.

“Morning sweetheart..” His voice was deeper from sleep, but god so hot. He placed his hands on your hips as your arms wrapped around his neck. The two of you just stared at each other, like getting lost in pandora.

“Morning baby.” You whispered kissing him lightly before letting go of him and turning your attention the coffee pot as you filled the mugs.

You knew how he liked his coffee, black no creamer. You roasted him about it for the longest time, he did the same when he watched you pour creamer in your mug the first time you spent the night at his place. He said “all your drinking is sugar.” The memory alone made you smile to yourself as you grabbed the creamer out of the fridge.

“I was thinking we could go to the grocery store and then maybe check out that new vintage shop you saw the other day.” He said softly from behind you.

“It’s a date.” You said with a smile turning around placing your hands on his chest. You would never turn down the opportunity to spend his money.

He grinned kissing you, you kissed him back feeling his tongue slip into your mouth. His hands lowered to your ass groping you softly. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, a small whimper leaving your lips as he smiled into the kiss. He backed you into the counter deepening the kiss as his hands moved from your ass to cup your face. If you weren’t so sore from last nights activities you probably would’ve indulged in morning sex, but nope.

You quickly pulled away before you got lost in him, turning around grabbing the coffee mugs.

“Babe-“ He whined.

“Nope-you had your fun last night. There has to be some hope for the day.” You said sarcastically.

It was routine what happened next, you carried the mugs through the living room and outside to the porch table, setting them down while he followed behind on his crutches. He sat down on the wooden bench across from you.

The dewdrops from the roof were acting like prisms on blades of grass, and a crystal-clear sky with wisps of white, fluffy clouds surrounded us. A light breeze rustling through the canopy, distant, quiet hums of the neighborhood waking up with us.

“How are you this morning my love?” He asked bringing the coffee mug to his mouth.

“Good…you know how I feel when you call me ‘my love’” You claimed setting your mug down in front of you as you stood up to sit on his lap. His arm slung around your waist as your hand rested on the back of his neck.

That term was always used when your father was angry with your mother. Jack sometimes said it on purpose or just genuinely forgot.

“What should I call you?” He asked holding his hand out across his lap for you to hold, and you did.

“My name for everyday, my diamond for Sundays, and goddess divine-but only on very special occasions.” You giggled as his grin grew wide.

“When can I call you Mrs. Abbot?” He whispered.

“You may only call me Mrs. Abbot when you are completely, and perfectly, incandescently happy.” You said squeezing his hand.

“How are you this morning Mrs. Abbot?”

summary ! After leaving your boyfriend’s house you both lived in, you take time apart and decide if you still want to be with him. That is until things take a turn and Jack is seriously injured.

warnings ! MDNI mentions of injuries, arguing, bomb raid, GSW, coma, surgery, little bit of toxicity, sadness, hatred, and hard feelings.

pairing: Jack abbot x fem!reader

alanas-masterlist prev.pt next.pt

You wish you could say you didn’t miss him. But that’s was farthest from the truth. The moment you got in the car and drove away from him you could feel your soul withering to be with him again. You drove to a hotel and got a room all by yourself, the night breeze was cool on your face as you took the stairs to your room. When you eventually got to the room, you broke down collapsing on the bed.

It felt like the world was closing in on you and there was nothing you could do to stop it or slow it down. Your mind couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t choose you. You went through the list of ‘what if’s’ but even that couldn’t bring comfort to you. What changed in him that made him decide you weren’t worth giving up SWAT for? What did you have to do to show him that you care?

Because clearly walking away from him wasn’t enough.

You.

His love, his other half, his diamond so he called you.

Maybe that wasn’t enough for him. Maybe you couldn’t be what he needed anymore. You weren’t willing to accept it. You just had to live with it. Loving him, for you, feels like your brain quietly rewrites its priorities without asking permission.

Your thoughts get hijacked in stupid, ordinary ways. You’ll be buying toothpaste and wonder if he prefers mint or cinnamon. You’ll hear a song and mentally save it to send to him later. Your day stops being just your day. It’s automatically an overlap of his.

The weird part is how safe risk feels. You want him to see the unfiltered version of you, the half-finished thoughts and bad morning hair, and somehow that doesn’t terrify you. His happiness starts registering as relevant to your own nervous system. If he’s stressed, your shoulders tense up too. If he laughs, you feel it.

And there’s this quiet gravity. Even in a crowded room, you’re aware of where he is. Like your attention has a compass and it just points to him by default. It’s not always soft. Sometimes it’s fierce, protective, inconvenient. That’s why you wanted him to fight for you.

It wasn’t always about SWAT, it was about him choosing you.

The first night was rough, you tossed and turned for hours in the dark. All you could think about was him, whether it be old memories or something traumatic happening to him now that you’re not there anymore. You pictured it before, something happening to him and become a widower girlfriend, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the worst things. You couldn’t sleep no matter how hard you tried, for hours just imagining he was holding you. You hadn’t been apart from him in two years.

He called you over thirty times, you didn’t answer any of them let alone look. You turned your phone on silent and closed your eyes hoping to fall asleep.

Even in your dreams you weren’t free from his torment. It was like every time you close your eyes all you could see was him no matter how hard you try to get out of it. Some dreams would be you two living a happy life together, others would end in death that had you gripping your throat gasping for air when you woke up.

By day five he’d given up, you didn’t receive any calls or texts. It was radio silence. You should’ve noticed something was wrong but you didn’t. You figured he’d just got tired of trying to convince you to stay, or maybe he even realized how badly he hurt you and finally decided to give you the space you needed. You didn’t reach out, you went on about your life the best you could these past couple of days.

The nightmares didn’t stop, they only got worse. Sometimes you would wake up in the middle of the night screaming because your dreams convinced you he wasn’t real.

You called out of work and didn’t talk to anyone. You didn’t leave the hotel room unless you needed food. It was the most miserable you had been in years. You could barely even stand to look yourself in the mirror, so fragile, beat, and broken. So when you left your hotel room today to go get a sandwich from the deli, your phone started buzzing in your pocket as you walked down the streets of Pittsburgh.

You thought it was him, caving in and deciding to bother you again, so you ignored it walking into the deli.

The worst part about being in this area of Pittsburgh was the fact that PTMC was always in eyes view. Even from this stupid deli. It’s like no matter what you did you couldn’t escape him. Before you could even get your sandwich, Trinity Santos was standing across from you with the most shocked expression on her face. You remembered her from the time that you went and brought Jack dinner and she was lingering there charting.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asked saying your name with wide eyes. Not only were you confused but baffled that she even remembers you.

“Getting a sandwi-is something wrong” You asked searching her face for an answer before she spoke.

“I just figured you’d be with Abbot considering what happened.” She said shrugging her shoulders. Your chest sunk.

“What do you mean? What happened?” Your tone was frantic and your hands started to shake at your sides.

“He got shot, bullet went through-“ you didn’t even need her to finish what she was saying before you ran out of the deli store doors making your way to the sidewalk.

Your lungs bite the air the second you push off the curb. The noon sun is bright but useless. It’s the kind of cold that doesn’t care it’s midday. The first breath stings your teeth and you regret not wearing something warm. Your feet slap the sidewalk.

One block. Your ears go numb fast, like someone turned the volume down on the world.

Three blocks. Your breath starts making these short white clouds that you run straight through. A delivery truck rumbles past and the exhaust smells sharp in the cold. Your thighs are waking up, complaining.

Four blocks. You tuck your chin to your chest. The sun glares off a windshield and you squint. Your nose is running now, and you don’t have a free hand to deal with it.

Five blocks. The last stretch is the worst because you can see the hospital. Your legs feel heavy but your brain says sprint, so you do. Six blocks.

You ran six blocks all the way to PTMC. Your feet were aching and your heels were already blistering. But that didn’t stop you or even matter right now. The moment you stepped foot into triage, Lupe looked at you and motioned for Dana to bring you back. She was mumbling something to you as she brought you back and sat you down at the nurses station.

Dana was always kind to you when you can in bearing food or had some kind of small incident that required medical attention. It didn’t embarrass you that everyone knew who you were because they were kind.

Everything she was saying was going in one ear and out the other because none of it was about Jack.

“….he had to have emergency surgery. He’s in the OR, they think his rate of making it is low.” She said whispering the last words as if saying them would make it real. More real than it coming out of Trinity’s mouth.

The bright lights and faint noises of yelling, and beeping, was driving you insane. You could feel the heat rush up to your neck as you looked around. Your heart was going tachycardic. Your eyes were bloodshot and it was like adrenaline was injected into your body from a syringe. Before even thinking about making a rational decision, you stood up heading for the elevator.

Dana was yelling after you but you ignored her as your feet carried you. You pressed floor two and waited.

When you arrived in the surgery waiting room, you stepped out and saw all the people and families waiting for their loved ones and friends. That’s when you saw his name on the screen.

Jack Abbot-Surgery progress: N/A

You thought you might throw up. All you could do is sit and wait. You checked your phone scrolling through the notifications.

Loml❤️: Listen, I made a mistake. Please don’t leave me forever. I love you. I can’t do this without you. Im sorry this is how it has to be.

Robby: Hey, Jack not doing to good. Talk to him before he does something he’ll regret.

There was more messages from the both of them but you couldn’t even bother to look, the screen blurred through your glossy eyes as you put your phone in your pocket.

As much as you wanted to be mad at him for this, you couldn’t help but think he might die. The last thing you want is him dying and the last memory you have of him being the argument and how you gave him an ultimatum. Just thinking about it is eating you up alive just how it did on those restless nights sleeping in the hotel alone and cold. You finally caved in and put your head to the side resting on your shoulder as you fell asleep in the waiting room chair for three hours.

The only reason you woke up is because you felt someone tapping you. Your eyes fluttered open, it was a dark haired woman, she was fairly tanned and tall she had the most empathetic look on her face.

“Are you here for Jack?” She asked as you nodded and rubbed your eyes standing up out of the chair.

“I’m surgeon Garcia, we had to do an intensive procedure on Jack because the bullet went through his abdomen.” You took in all the information waiting to hear the words that would make or break you.

“We had to do an organ repair, but he is stable which is a good sign.” She said softly. The moment you heard the words stable you took a deep exhale like all the tension and worry left your body.

“Thank you-for-for taking care of him. Can I see him?” You asked desperate for her to say yes.

“Yes. He’s not awake, with all the drugs he’s on and how hard he hit his head, he’s in a coma. It’s hard to tell when he’ll wake up.” She said.

“What happened? How did end up like this-“ You said covering your mouth before the most gut-wrenching screams could leave your body.

“He was covering for one of his partners for a bomb raid, I guess someone shot him and then the bomb went off knocking him to the ground.” She said emphatically and carefully.

“Show me to him?” You asked. She nodded motioning for you to follow her as she lead the way.

The walk there was nerve-racking you went down quiet hallways with bright buzzing lights as you picked at your nails subconsciously waiting to see him. When you’re turned into his room everything around you went quiet and the air stilled along with your heart.

He was in hospital gown, blanket pulled up to his chest. He looked pale and cold, he didn’t look peaceful. You could tell he looked hurt and sad. He looked lifeless.

The surgeon behind you gave you a small nod and walked out of the room giving you privacy.

You slowly walked to his bedside sitting down in the chair next to it. Tears came down your eyes as your hand slowly raised to rest on top of his. He was cold-too cold to be alive, too cold to be dead. You’ve never been on the other side of this and neither has he. A part of your brain wonders if he did this because of your choice.

The guilt you felt was horrid, you tried to sit there and convince yourself it was probably an accident-something he didn’t see coming. But no, to you..it was all your fault.

there will be a happy ending bare with me 🥲😭 more parts coming soon <3

summary ! After cleaning up your boyfriend’s wounds, and emotional baggage from him working for SWAT and at the hospital, you see the emotional toll it has on him and you are tired of it. But the conversation doesn’t go how you planned.

warnings ! MDNI mentions of small wounds, blood, injuries, raids, medical issues, arguing, yelling, anda little bit of toxicity.

pairing: Jack abbot x fem!reader

alanas-masterlist prev.pt. next. pt.

It has now been eight months since he came home bloody and traumatized. But it didn’t stop there, over the course of the eight months, it has only got worse. Every time you mention it-all you get is a shrug. Never an actual answer. That is why tonight, draws the line.

Jack had picked up a SWAT shift after working a double at the hospital. It was no surprise to you that he was barely home anymore. It was the new normal, the kind of thing where he’d text you “Be home late. Don’t wait up for me.” That didn’t mean it doesn’t make you angry, because it most certainly does. Including tonight.

You were lying in bed, you had already showered, got into pajamas and ate dinner alone in silence. You weren’t even watching tv, just waiting for the minutes to pass as you stared blankly at the bedroom door, anticipating him walking through the door hurt. That’s exactly what happened.

You were so close to dosing off into sleep when you heard the locks of the front door. You heard his footsteps getting close to the bedroom. When he entered, you didn’t even greet him. You just sat up crossing your arms over your chest. He didn’t say anything either, he saw the look on your face of disappointment, but he didn’t care.

He walked straight to the closet grabbing his clothes to change in the bathroom. Not only did that make your heart sink to your stomach, but it also made you unfathomably angry, and you never got angry. He came out of the bathroom, changed into the familiar grey sweatpants and no shirt. He was still wordless as he sat down at the edge of the bed with his med bag. You assumed he got hurt again.

“So you’re not gonna say anything?” You said harshly as you stared at his back.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” He spit out, you could see the way he was wrapping gauze around his forearm.

“Are you kidding me?” You yelled standing up out of the bed as you make your way in front of him.

His expression was confused. Like he couldn’t believe that you actually stood there raising your voice at him. I mean-he’s seen you upset sure. But never like this, never at him.

“No. What do you want me to say?” He said muttering your name under his breath like it was a curse. His eyes remained on his bandage, that was currently wrapped around his forearm with a small patch of red blotting through the white.

“I want you to come home not hurt, bruised, bleeding, or marked up-“ You huffed out throwing your arms up as they dropped to your side.

“I didn’t intend for this to happen, I told you once and I’ll tell you again-I’m not purposely getting myself hurt. I’m there to help in case someone gets injured or needs serious medical attention.” He exclaimed. He wasn’t raising his voice, his tone was strong like he almost believed what was coming out of his mouth.

“If that’s the case, why do you conceal and carry hm? Why is it that every time you come home to me, you’re injured.” You yelled taking a step closer.

You didn’t believe him for a second. You’ve been told this, time and time again. At first you were naive enough to believe that he was doing it for a greater good. Now you’ve come to understand he needs help and it’s about the adrenaline rush, and not understanding his feelings. It’s about how in control he feels and not the care that he’s damaging what’s left of his body, every day.

“Can we not do this-it’s been a fucked up day-“

“You say that every time you come home!” You yelled-no practically scream that it made him finally look at you.

“It’s always a fucked up day Jack, when will you realize that! When will you realize that one of these days you might not come home! I thought-i thought I could handle the constant night shift at the hospital and the constant getting called in to cover for people but this? This isn’t what I signed up for.” You went from angry, to being devastated and so unfathomably disappointed.

“So what? You can only handle when I love you-or when we have sex?” He spit out. His hands were resting on his thighs as he sat at the edge of the bed looking up at you.

The moment he said that-it was like a switch went off. You could feel it in the room. He could see it in the way your hands tightened at your sides.

“Is that what you fucking think this is?” You yelled. You took one step closer until you were officially in his personal space, you were an arms length away.

“I worry about you-every second I fucking breathe. From the moment i wake up, to my dreams! You are reckless, and you have no care in the world to what you are doing to your body. It makes me sick to my stomach, knowing that when you come home-i don’t know what to expect. Will you be bloody? Will you be beaten? Will you even come home to me at all!?!” He was soaking your words in. Not talking, let alone even breathing.

“What you do to me-is torment. I can’t stand it. You won’t listen to me or even equivocate my option on the matter because I’m not as smart as you. Im not a goddamn doctor. For that matter alone you don’t trust anything that comes out of my mouth when it’s about this. For you to think that sex and love is the pure reason I’m around you is sick-“

“Well maybe if you stopped treating me like a fucking child and more like a man, we wouldn’t be having this conversation! You don’t get to make my choices for me!” He yelled cutting you off.

He’d done it. Jack Anthony Abbot, yelled at you. It didn’t feel how you thought it would. You thought you might cry, punch him even. But no, this-this made you feel pure melancholy.

“If you’re mistaking me caring for you as me trying to make choices for you, then that’s stupid of me to think you have any idea at all who I am for you.” You said taking a step back in defeat.

This wasn’t about who was right or wrong. The whole point here is that you care. You couldn’t fathom why he doesn’t understand, you wish you could just jump into his mind and understand where this is going wrong. But you can’t.

“If you think that I’m making choices for you, then this is a choice for you to make.” Your tone was softer, almost like you poured water in the fire yourself before you could fully explode.

He looked puzzled, his hands were now in fists on his thighs as he moved one to scrub his hand over his jaw shaking his head in frustration.

“Me or SWAT.” You said clear as day, no room for argument-so you thought.

“What? No-I’m not-i’m not picking. We’re not children.” He argued saying your name.

“It’s simple. If you don’t drop SWAT and stick to the ED, then I’m gone. And this-“ You said motioning between the two of you. “This is gone.”

He couldn’t believe his ears, for a second he thought he was dreaming or maybe even died and came back to life. But no. Because when he closed his eyes in hopes to wake up to the real world, you were still standing there in front of him.

“No.” He said strongly.

“Yes. If you don’t make a choice, then I will walk out that door assuming that I am not your choice.” You said harshly, you weren’t changing your mind.

No matter how much you loved him, not matter how much he meant to you. It would all mean nothing if you sat here and watched him break himself time and time again.

“You cannot ask me of this-“ He argued standing up. He towered over you. If this were any other day, you would’ve wrapped your arms around him and held him tight. But what you felt was pure terror.

“Sounds like you made your choice.” You muttered.

Your feet moved before your mind, carrying you to the closet as you started to grab your hoodie and a pair of socks. Jack was somewhere muttering behind you-begging you not to leave. But your mind numbed him out as you shoved past him. You trekked all the way to the front door grabbing your car keys off the holder. Right as your hand reached for the door, his hand came up grabbing your arm.

“Please.” He pleaded whispering your name like you were a saint. “I can’t choose. Please-“ He muttered.

You ripped your arm from his hold. You looked at him in agony. Like he had personally ripped open your chest and pulled your heart out himself.

“You made it clear that no matter how many times i choose you, you won’t choose me.” You whispered.

That was it. You left no room to argue. No room for him to debate your emotions. You looked at him one last time-truly looked at him. You took in the pleading in his eyes and the way his body gravitated towards you. Yet-it wasn’t enough to make you stay. You opened the door stepping out before he could protest.

The air outside around you stilled. The neighborhood was quiet, almost like the universe knew what was happening. You turned closing the door behind you.

this makes me sad because ik woman struggle with relationships like this everyday :( yes there will be more parts hopefully soon!! Enjoy 😊

summary ! Your boyfriend comes home from a stressful SWAT shift, angry, vulnerable and hurt. You comfort him and help clean him up.

warnings ! MDNI Fluff, kissing, cursing, pet names like: “baby.” “sweetheart” mentions of small wounds. No use of Y/n. Mentions of blood, cuts, guns, gunpoint, suicide and homicide.

pairing: Jack abbot x fem!reader

alanas-masterlist. pt.2

Jack has been your boyfriend for two years already, it wasn’t a surprise when he would come home late, or in the morning when he worked nights. It was your version of a normal life with him. You had moved in with him a couple months into your relationship, it was like there was a structured routine set in place without the attention to it. So on nights like these when he would pick up a SWAT shift, you didn’t wait up for him. You ate dinner, and showered alone, now you were sitting on the couch in shorts and one of his old shirts.

The living room smelled of vanilla and cinnamon from a candle you had lit hours ago. The dim lighting and soft sounds of rain set the comfort for you. Now you were basking away in a warm blanket with the tv playing a random channel on the guide.

That’s when the sound of the locks broke the silence in the air. You stayed quiet figuring he would come and give you your nightly hug and kiss before heading for the shower. But he didn’t. Instead he walked straight from the front door to the bedroom without even looking at you. Immediately you noticed that something was wrong.

You stood up from your warm spot of the couch, trekking down the hallway and into the bedroom. When you entered the room you found him sitting at the edge of the bed. His SWAT gear still on, his face in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. His head had dried blood all over, you couldn’t tell if it was his or not. He didn’t even bother to look up at you when you entered the room.

It was silent as you approached him, standing in font of him you placed a hand on his shoulder gently, not trying to push or probe-but simply letting him know you’re there for him.

“Hey..” you whispered to him trying to get any sign that he was okay. He stayed quiet not budging.

“Look at me..” you pleaded. He removed his hands from his face scrubbing a hand over his jaw as his gaze remained on the floor. “What happened? Whose blood is that..” You asked as your eyes searched for any sign of an explanation.

“I need you to leave this room. Now.” He muttered. His muscles were tight under your touch as your hand slowly went back to rest at your side. Not only did his tone shake you, but his words. Were you enough for him in this moment?

“No.” You said sharply leaving no room for argument-or so you thought.

“Im not kidding.” He said his tone dropping as he said your name. You took a step back crossing your arms over your chest.

“Im not either, talk to me. Don’t shut me out, I don’t believe you’re angry at me.” You said, it was easy for you to read his emotions. It wasn’t hard, he didn’t have a hard time expressing them to you. But in moments like these it was hard to believe that was true because he ever acted like this around you.

“I can’t talk to you. Not-“ He paused, his fists balling in his lap. “Not like this. Just give me a moment alone, I’ll come to you when I’m ready.” He said. You didn’t push. You exited the room quietly shutting the door behind you.

You made your way back to the couch sitting down with your legs under you. You couldn’t help but overthink. What had gone so badly for him to push you away. It wasn’t like he was trying to be rude. He was communicating his emotions, you know how hard that is for him, that’s why therapy is set in place. So he could communicate any time he felt uncomfortable, angry, sad or anxious.

Jack never yelled at you. Not even raised his voice in the slightest, because he knew that’s no way to ever talk to you. Even when he was upset with you or the world, he would push it down. Maybe that’s why it was scary to finally see this side of him. You can't help the frustration and sadness that fires up in response to his rejection, your stomach twisting itself into knots. The logical part of your brain knows he's well within his rights to ask for space.

He stepped out of the bedroom making his way over to you on the couch in silence. You looked over at him as he sat down next to you.

“Im sorry sweetheart.” He whispered placing his hand on your thigh. “It’s been a pretty fucked up day. I-i just needed a second to process.” He said, his voice was soft, and vulnerable enough to make your heart silently ache. You put your hand on the back of his neck softly playing with the small curls at the base.

“I understand baby..we don’t have to talk about it. Can you at least let me clean you up?” You asked.

He simply nodded, you got up searching for the med bag in the closet near the kitchen as he seated himself at the dining table slowly taking off his SWAT gear. When you made your way back over to him with his bag, he was shirtless. Left in only his camo pants, any normal day you would’ve jumped his bones. But he was covered in bruises and had cuts all over his abdomen and chest. Not only did it make you want to cry, it made you sick to your stomach that he does this to himself over and over again.

You placed yourself i between his legs as the bag rested on the table. His hands instinctively rested on the back of your thighs holding you like you were his anchor. You pulled out antibacterial wipes slowly cleaning the blood. He didn’t wince, just looked up at you in silence while you cleaned his wounds. When you started to apply antibiotic cream to his cuts you began to finally ask questions.

“How did the cuts happen?” You asked, your eyes never leaving the wounds on him.

“Got pushed down into glass.” He muttered his eyes never leaving you. You stayed silent while applying gauze patches to the worst cuts.

“I was with the team, it was just supposed to be a simple intervention to help save this woman at gunpoint. The guy holding her, veteran, served in Vietnam.” He said taking a long exhale as his eyes drifted away from yours. You had already finished cleaning him up, now you were just listening.

“It went south quick, he was threatened by us. We thought he was about to put down his weapon-“ He choked out his voice shaking. “He pulled the trigger on her head and-and then shot himself. It was his wife.” He said removing one of his hands from your thigh scrubbing it over his jaw. His eyes were glossy, his chest was rising and falling faster than normal.

“It scared me-not because of how gruesome it was…but because-“ He was now crying. Not loud or dramatic, just quiet as the tears slowly slipped down his cheeks. You instantly moved settling yourself on his lap your hand resting on his bicep.

“Because I thought of you-of us, and how I could never imagine my trauma getting the best of me to the point where I hurt you..” He said as your thumbs gently brushed away his tears.

You stayed silent, almost as if you where trying to search for the right answer. You gently took his hand placing it on top of your chest where he could feel your heartbeat on his palm.

“It’s okay..it’s sad, that-that happened, and you couldn’t do anything to save her. But I promise you, as long as I’m with you-I’m safe.” Your hand rested on top of his that was on your chest. “I’m sorry you went through that.” You whispered bringing his hand up to kiss it softly.

“I love you. So goddamn much.” He said bringing his hand to the back of your head as your foreheads rested against one another.

“I love you too. Now why don’t you get in the shower..take off your prosthetic and I’ll make you something to eat, yeah?” You asked with a small smile, your hands resting on his cheeks.

“Sounds like a plan sweetheart.” He whispered his lips hovering near yours.

You kiss him first, gentle and sweet, not rushed. When he pulled away he stood up giving you a small peck on the cheek before trekking to the bedroom. You were left standing there wondering how you got so lucky to have this man. Because he always looked different around you like this. Soft, vulnerable, and disgustingly domestic.