Currently hyper fixated on Jack and pregnant!reader 🥹 Because like let’s say you’re waddling around your kitchen in the early hours of the morning, unable to sleep with the uncomfortable size of your tummy at this point. We’re talking third trimester, any day now timeline. In walks Jack post shift, exhausted and grateful to be home. He sets his bag down and slides his shoes off at the door. He knows you’ve been struggling with sleeping through the night, but still moves through the house quietly in case you are.
He can hear you puttering around in the kitchen, cabinets opening and closing as you change your mind twenty different times about what you’re craving. He leans against the wall, a crinkly eyed smile on his face watching you. Amused by you. Amazed by you. His sleepy girl who’s creating a tiny life inside of her. You’re in one of his old band T-shirts, a pair of his boxers, and fluffy socks. Your hair’s up and disheveled with puffy, sleepy eyes to tie together the ‘hot mess express’ look you’re sporting. And Jack loves it.
Nothing screams ‘sexy’ to Jack like the woman he loves carrying his child. You could be wearing a fucking garbage bag and Jack Abbot still wants up in those guts, baby. You let out a little yawn while steeping your tea under the light above the stove, gasping in surprise as he comes up behind you and wraps his strong arms under your belly. He lifts it, earning an actual moan of relief from you. You could cry, it feels that fucking good. The last few weeks have been hell for your lower back, and you’ve been fussing about it (reasonably so) to Jack more often. Your heart just melts at the thought of him picking up a tip or two from the OBGYN nurses at the hospital.
“You get any sleep, mommy?” he mumbles into your shoulder.
“A little. I think we’re having a rockstar, babe. She loves partying into the early hours of the morning, this one. She’s been kicking me since three a.m.” Jack can’t help but chuckle at the havoc your unborn daughter is already wreaking on you.
“Does this help?” he asks. You nod your head appreciatively.
“Jack, it feels so good. Thank you,” you sigh blissfully. You relax into his arms, letting your head lull back lazily against his warm chest. “How’d you know this would help?”
“Dana actually gave me this one. I jus’ felt awful watchin’ you be so uncomfortable. Broke my heart, baby.” He kisses the side of your head tenderly.
“You know what’s breaking my heart right now?” Jack’s head perks up, caught off guard and slightly confused by your question.
“What’s that?” he asks, tentative.
“That we’re all out of chocolate chips, and now I can’t make chocolate chip pancakes,” you whine. Jack can’t help but laugh. You laugh too, you know it sounds ridiculous. But it also sounds so good.
“I see a Door Dash order from Denny’s in my future,” Jack says. You let him gently drop your belly before turning to face him.
“Hmm…I was thinking Waffle House,” you smile. The lack of sleep and backaches are totally worth mornings like this. And - despite the crying - even more so after the birth of your daughter.
