|𝗞𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘂 𝗥𝗲𝗲𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗜𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀|

"Easy, easy"

As I lay in my warm, enclosed bed, I dream of him. My dream quickly fades to reality when I hear a loud noise. I wake up and turn on the nightstand lamp. I flung the nightstand drawer handle, grabbing my loaded pistol, and standing behind the bed. There are footsteps down the hallway, "Whoever you are you need to leave! My husband will be home any-" my words faded off when John wobbled his way into the doorway, covered in blood and clutching his chest, he was wounded.

He fell to the cold floor, "Y/n" he whispered. "Oh my god, John." I hurry over to him, putting my hand on his neck, checking his pulse. I stand him up with all the strength I have in my body, pushing him into a chair, him grunting in pain. "I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry, hold on." I scurry over to the kitchen grabbing the medkit and peroxide. I pull another chair in front of him, sitting down and opening all the aid I needed to help him.

I rip his jacket off, "Easy, easy," says putting his hands up in the air as I remove his wet jacket. His once white button-up shirt was now a dark smelly red with a point of no return. I cut the shirt where the wound was, there wasn't time to remove it. With every move, I made he just stared. I guess he's used to the pain.

I applied pressure to the wound, making him hiss. "You know, normal husbands come home at a reasonable time, they come home with flowers or pizza. But you come home with battle scars and stained clothes."

He smiled at my sarcastic remarks, he knows I deserve more of him but his workplace doesn't give me any of that sort. "Okay this is a stab wound, thank god I didn't have to dig for a bullet, and thank GOD, it's not deep enough to cause serious injury." He chuckled, I began to stitch, his skin was red and raw. God, I wish this man would get a normal job.

He was focused on my face, his eyes were like daggers stabbing me anywhere they looked. Every once in a while I would look up at him and meet his gaze, him smiling in return. His hand laid rest on my thigh where he liked it. "You know I love you right?" He says with a flutter to his eye. I smile and blush, acting like my husband of 5 years hasn't said that a million times to me. "Yes, I do. And I'm glad, I know I complain a lot about you and the blood and shit but I couldn't have it any other way." He took his hand and rubbed my dimples as I smiled.

I cut the thread with my scissors and clapped. "Let's get you into bed pretty boy," I say. I helped him up and he slammed into the mattress, he adjusted himself as he pleased and I covered him up. I wrapped all my supplies back into the medkit and laid next to him. I wrapped my arm around his waist as we looked above at the skylight on the ceiling.