This movie was so unapologetically New York it was wonderful.
Bad Bunny started playing and my theater started cheering. There’s a halal butcher shop next to a bodega, the kid Peter saved is a wearing a Knicks jersey and there’s a random tourist bus that’s filled with people wearing tacky New York merchandise. My favorite detail is when Empire State turned on its lights to support Spiderman just like how it does in real life with actual events.
The city is alive, vibrant, and in tune with Spider-Man and we see it become its own character rather than just a background setting. Peter finally interacts with the city again as a figure and as a person as well. There’s people who talk to him, who try to help in battles and these are all the moments that make the city a living and breathing home for Peter Parker and Spiderman together.
Tom Holland has such a better Queens accent too and the final moments of the movie are the end credits of everyday New Yorkers living their lives. Just parks, shots of our skyline and the people who make up the city. Idk but like I’m a New Yorker, and I just looked around in my theater and I saw so many people like me all wearing Spiderman merch who were all able to look on screen and see our home represented perfectly.
summary: after five years, you thought that loving jack meant being able to deal with the times he put you aside. and every time he says those three little words, they keep feeling a little bit emptier until they loose meaning completely. after he ditches you and your anniversary trip, it all goes downhill from there.
tags: jack abbot x reader, angst, jack is high key an asshole this time, ooc jack, no use of y/n (you're welcome), hurt/no comfort, reader gets left behind a lot, age gap (not specified), arguing, breakup, inspired by less by olivia rodrigo, get your tissues
notes: well, this one wasn't on my wip list, but I've been sitting on this idea for a long while. unlike my other angst fic, this one does not have a happy ending where reader gets with someone else (but in my mind she does and ends up with brett somehow), also this is my 6k special so thank you for all the love to my other fics, MY TAG LIST IS CLOSED I'M SO SORRY BUT MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN! enjoy!
word count: 4k
Your bed pressed into you wrongly. The sheets were fresh, the duvet smelt like a mix of you and Jack, and the pillow under your head cooled your cheek no matter which way you turned. And yet, your spine slotted against a lump, your legs restlessly twitched, and your mind refused to rid itself of the night’s events that happened mere hours before: a small argument that had turned into another fight between you and your partner of five years.
You hadn’t meant for your voice to rise above a conversational tone, and you winced every time the loudness of Jack’s tone crossed through your ears. It’d been about him taking extra hours at work—the argument—when Shen had it more than covered. And because he’d picked up another shit, your dinner for two had gone down the garbage disposal well before Jack stepped through the front door. Your stomach clenched.
He had meant well. Him being a doctor showed you that social sacrifices had to be made, but you were slowly growing tired of being the sacrifice every single damn time.
If it had been a mass casualty or some other event that caused the figurative trauma flood gates to open, you would have understood in a heartbeat. But when Jack hadn’t shown up around forty minutes after 7, you’d called the Pitt’s line just in case, and your heart flipped when Lena—bless her heart—assured you that nothing wrong had happened.
Well, at least nothing wrong happened at the hospital. But something clearly wrong was happening the longer Jack stayed behind to help set a broken nose or clean out a simple wound.
“All I ask is for you to come home for once at the correct time,” you hissed, hands gripping the kitchen counter with white knuckles.
The array of dirty dishes and pans spread along the stove and adjoining countertops, all signs that you’d cooked something up for dinner even though a meal was nowhere to be found.
Jack huffed. “I said I was sorry, okay? They needed me there—”
“Don’t lie,” you interrupted with a strangled sob. “Don’t stand there and lie to my face. I called, Jack, and you know what Lena said? She said that tonight had been the quietest at handoff than it ever had been!”
His head cocked as his eyebrows furrowed. “You called? Why the fuck would you call my work?”
You threw your hands up. “Is it so hard to think that I’d be nervous and scared when you didn’t fucking show up for dinner. God forbid I think another grand emergency happened and you’d be stuck for a while. For fuck’s sake, Jack, it’s like I don’t even cross your mind anymore.”
“You do cross my mind.”
“Then why?” You tore your eyes from his frame and down into the sink where the dinner had gone down. “Why would you pick up a shift when they didn’t need you in the first place, and you knew we had dinner plans.”
You watched his jaw drop, close, drop again. He didn’t know. And now, the two of you were standing at the edge of the grave that belonged to your relationship. If you kept going, you had no clue what would happen, so you stepped back and started walking towards your bedroom.
Jack started to follow. “Where are you going?”
“To shower,” you called over your shoulder. “There’s stuff in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
With that, you flung the door closed, not carrying how loud the slam echoed through the house.
Behind you, the mattress dipped, and you pinched your eyes shut when Jack’s body heat radiated through your thin sleep shirt. He didn’t even try to roll over and press his body into yours.
Smart choice you thought as you shifted deeper into the covers, wrapping the edges around your front as a shield.
The room went quiet around the soft sound of the overhead fan.
Jack sighed loudly into the air. “Can we talk?”
Your throat constricted around a thick swallow. “We already talked,” you murmured, “there’s nothing left to say.”
“You’re still upset though,” he pointed out, and your chest tightened further. He was right; you were still upset, but any fight had been left and drained in the shower along with endless tears. He rolled over, the duvet pulling tight under his body. “And I can’t make you not upset if we don’t talk.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I don’t want to talk, Jack. I’m tired, and I just want to go to bed.”
“You said that last night too.”
Another wash of memories flooded the front of your mind. Last night had also ended in an argument. And the night before that. And the night before that: an endless cycle of going to bed with simmering anger only to wake up and hope that the morning would make everything better, that you and Jack could agree and talk without growing into something that was too big to keep emotions in.
More shifts. More SWAT missions. More rooftop talks that Robby kept you updated on. More, more, more, yet, Jack never wanted more with you. His more was somewhere outside your home, the one you’d been building for years, the one that used to be the place he couldn’t get away from.
Now, it seemed as though it was the one place he didn’t want to be.
You pushed harder into the pillow when he didn’t say anything else and sniffed loudly. A single tear traced the swell of your cheekbone and fell all the way down your neck, disappearing into your shirt. Jack scooted a bit closer, and the blankets, once comforting, felt like a vice around you.
“I don’t like when you cry,” he whispered, still not touching you at all.
“And I like it when you’re here for dinner,” you snarked softly.
“I know.”
“I don’t think you do, Jack.” You yanked until the duvet gave way a bit under him. “But I’m done talking about this tonight; I’m too tired to keep going.”
“Okay,” he said, and by his tone, you knew he was giving up too. “Okay.” The blankets tightened again as he rolled over, back turned towards you, almost like he couldn’t stand to even look at you and the way your breath shuddered into your shoulders anymore. “Sleep well.” He paused before adding, “I love you.”
I love you, but you didn’t feel it, hadn’t felt it in a while. He said the phrase after every argument to the point where it had lost all its meaning to you. Thrown around like a Bandaid on a gaping wound, it did little to pacify the hurt that encompassed your entire being.
You chewed on your bottom lip, mind waring within if you should say it back. It would ache, because you knew by morning, he’d be back in the Pitt, and you’d be left with the echo of everything he didn’t say.
“Love you too,” you whispered, the words barely audible even to you to the point you wondered if you imagined saying it.
Before long, sleep dragged you far down until sunlight reached through the blind slots and caressed your eyelids. Even though you knew the spot next to you would be empty, you turned over anyways, hand reaching for a ghost.
On the bedside table, you quickly read the small sticky note stuck to the lamp.
“Good luck today! Love you - J”
If loving me means letting go and wishing me the best. Well then, I guess, I wish, I wish, I wish you loved me less
The restaurant around you flickered with warm light and clapped with soft laughter and chatter from each table. Soft tablecloth pinched under your fingertips in one hand while the others wrapped around the stem of a red-filled glass to bring it to your lipstick-stained lips.
Across from you, Jack’s phone artificially illuminated his face in a way that stood out like a sore thumb. Your own phone had been stashed inside your clutch at the beginning of the evening, a way for you to be present during the date Jack had planned by himself. It wasn’t your anniversary, but the restaurant held fond memories that you kept close to your heart.
“So, did anything interesting come through today?” you asked after setting your glass back down.
Jack nodded absentmindedly as his fingers tapped rhythmically on the screen. “Yeah, today was good, honey.”
You pursed your lips. “Jack?”
“One second.”
You looked around the room, eyes scanning the way every couple present seemed to be having the best of times all while you were two bland comments away from crying. The food hadn’t even come out, but that didn’t stop you from glancing toward the exit.
But Jack had planned the date, so that must have meant he had good intentions, right?
A grumble fell from his lips. “Fucking—”
“Do you remember the first time we came here?” you began, still not looking back at him. “And-and we must have gotten a first-day waiter because he kept forgetting what we asked for.”
“Uh-huh.”
You gripped the tablecloth a bit more. “Then, when we asked for dessert—” You snorted softly at the memory. “He brought us another entree instead. You swore if you even smelled one more whiff of pasta, you’d burst,” you giggled, but the sound drifted.
He hadn’t even looked up once. “Got it.”
“Jack.”
His hazel eyes lifted from his phone, and he slowly placed the device down. You noted how he left it face up.
“Yeah?” he asked. “Sorry, the guys are blowing up my phone with a recap of today. Cannot believe I missed a bank heist.”
A twitch in your eye had you blinking rapidly. “Oh.”
His lip curled slightly: the first smidge of a smile you’d seen on his face in hours. Your wine-tinged saliva soured around your teeth. You looked back down when his screen lit up, and Jack reached for it instantly and barked out a laugh.
“Jack.”
“One second,” he muttered, completely oblivious to the tears glossing your eyes the longer he paid attention to his phone instead of you.
An ugly feeling surged in the pit of your belly, and it roared viciously, chomping for you to bite back. A simple swallow wouldn’t make it go away.
“Are we still taking the trip to California next week,” you asked bored, reaching for your glass once again.
That finally seemed to get Jack’s attention. “What?”
Your brows pinched. “Califorina? For our anniversary next week. You said we’d go this year since we weren’t able to last year.”
His tongue ran across his bottom lip. “Oh, yeah, we’re still going.”
“And you’ve made sure to get the time off, yes?” you pressed. “I already bought the tickets, and they’re non-refundable.”
In some attempt to convince you, he reached over and took your empty hand into his. “Already got the time off approved, sweetheart. John’s glad to get me out so he can start a mutiny and take over the night shift.”
You gently squeezed his fingers. “Okay.”
His mouth stretched into a wide smile, and for a second, you felt whole, like you could be a part of those happy couples who only needed the other to fill their time, until his phone lit up once again, his hand ripping out of yours to grab it.
“Can we,” you started, but you knew you’d already lost him.
You thought of trying again, but the waiter suddenly approaching had you clamping your mouth closed. A small thank you flew from your lips when he placed the pasta dish in front of you, but not even the savory smell of alfredo and chicken could fill the growing pit in your stomach.
For the rest of the evening, Jack barely made any small talk, just edging the line of being attentive and checking out every time you tried to bring something up just for his phone to take all his attention away.
You tried not to focus on it. The restaurant gave you enough things to look at. However, you couldn’t help but shrink into yourself every time Jack laughed loudly at whatever message came through, bringing unwanted eyes and attention to your table. Your chest rose and fell staggeredly as a panic licked at your nerves, mind immediately going to how they might be perceiving you and Jack.
Look at that couple you could imagine hearing them whisper over the candle centerpieces. Poor girl; date hasn’t even looked at her once since they got here. I wouldn’t want to be her.
“Could you maybe put your phone away?” you asked softly, leaning forward so your voice wouldn’t carry far.
“Yeah, gimme a second,” Jack answered. “Just need to reply to this real fast.”
A giggle to your right had you looking in that direction only to lock eyes with a woman whose mouth was hidden behind her hand. She probably wasn’t even laughing at you, but your stomach flipped backwards down to your toes at the thought that her amusement was coming from Jack ignoring you.
“Jack,” you said a bit louder.
He huffed loudly and placed his phone back down with a loud clunk. “What?”
For some reason, you now felt bad. This was his first break in weeks, and you were nagging. You tried to smile, but even that felt awkward across your face.
“Just wanting to talk about our trip,” you stated. “I’m excited to spend two whole weeks with you.”
As if your stomach couldn’t drop any lower, Jack blanched and coughed into his hand. “Two weeks?”
Your head dipped in a slow nod. “That’s what we agreed on when we first started discussing our anniversary trip, yes.”
He ran a hand across his jaw. “I thought it was more of a weekend getaway.”
“A weekend—Jack . . .” you trailed in full disbelief. “Are you going to tell me that you don’t have the two weeks off from work?”
“I got Thursday through Sunday.” He sighed into his hand. “Monday is my first day back on nights ‘cause Robby’s back Tuesday morning.”
Your lower lip trembled. “So, because your husband is coming back, we have to cut our trip—not even early—but by a full ten days?” A scoff fell from your lips. “Unbelievable.”
Jack’s nose twisted. “That’s not fair. I got off what I could.”
“No, you probably didn’t even ask for two weeks, because you didn’t even remember what we had agreed on before I just told you.”
“Please, let’s not argue here,” he begged with big eyes.
“You just want to argue at home like we always do?” you shot back. “Tell me the truth, Jack, will you even show up to the airport next week, or will you just call me to say you got called in on another SWAT mission?”
“I promise I will be at the airport,” he said.
And for a week, you believed him. You believed that, as you packed your suitcase and carry-on, the next four days would be what you two needed. Sure, it wasn’t the full two weeks, but any time spent with Jack alone would be enough. By the time your Uber arrived at the airport, you were basically vibrating with excitement.
You stepped out onto the curb just as your phone started to ring. Once glance at the contact showed Jack’s picture, and you swiped the answer button without a second thought.
“Jack!” you cheerfully yelled. “I just got here, but we still have two hours before the flight. Are you already at the gate, or do I need to wait for you—”
“Honey,” his voice sighed into the speaker, and you froze. “I’m not . . .”
You gripped your phone tightly. “No. No, no, no, no—”
“Their medic called out. I was the only option. I can’t—” He inhaled sharply. “I’m not going to make it.”
Tears pooled at your lashline. “Th-that’s just it then? You’re throwing away our anniversary trip because your buddies need you? Are you sure there’s no one else, or were you looking for an excuse to leave me here alone?”
For a moment, he didn’t speak.
The hustle and bustle of the airport didn’t even reach through the ringing in your ears as you waited for his response. You shifted your weight, and behind you, someone honked a horn at a pedestrian.
“Jack?” you prompted. “Say something. Tell me this is all a joke, and that you’re still coming.” You wiped uselessly at your nose. “Please.”
“I have to go,” he stated. “Still go on the trip; I’ll see you and pick you up when you get home. I love you.”
On instinct, you started to reply, “I love you too—”
He had already hung up before you could respond.
Still in your hand, your phone swung limply at your side. It buzzed periodically, but you ignored it. Part of you wanted to get another Uber and go home to cry into your bed, and the other part of you wanted to do what he said: go to California by yourself and enjoy the trip.
You chose the second option.
For two weeks, you relaxed under the western sun, swam in the Pacific waves, and drank too many fruity drinks by the pool of your hotel. It was almost perfect, and being so close to that word had you crying each night into the too soft pillows where each side swallowed your face, muffling your sobs. You tried your damn hardest to not think about Jack. He didn’t deserve even a moment of your thoughts, but your body ached for his warmth, for his love.
At the end of the two weeks, you found yourself at the airport, phone back to your ear as it rang under Jack’s contact. Within five rings, he picked up.
“Hey, sweetheart. How’s California?” he asked.
You hummed. “It’s been good. Hey, since you said you’d pick me up, I wanted to let you know that I’ll be flying in around 5 tonight. We can get Zio’s and pig out on pizza for dinner?”
“Well . . . here’s the thing. Gloria’s sending Robby and I to a medical conference in Washington today.”
Deja vu from two weeks ago hit you right in the chest. “Oh.”
“I’m really sorry, honey. If I could have stayed I would.” In the background, you heard someone yell his name. “Stay safe. Maybe call Santos to pick you up? Love you!”
You hung up without saying it back, because how could you? How could you stand there at LAX, crying because your boyfriend, who canceled on the trip you were sure he was going to propose to, only to once again throw you to the side, and still say I love you to him. Even in the depths of your heart, you couldn’t find those words anywhere.
And that terrified you.
If loving me means crying on the curb at LAX. Well then, I guess, I wish, I wish, I wish you loved me less
You stared blankly at the wave of the dining room table’s grain as the clock ticked down. Jack was late . . . again, but this time, you hadn’t wasted your evening on cooking a meal. No, you’d been packing. Every memory, every laugh, every moment spent with him was pushed into your two suitcases that were already seated in the back of your car.
You thought you could make it work.
The dinners, the dates, the stolen smiles that made staying feel worth it. But then California happened, and you didn’t think you could take another second of it: being with someone who acted like they didn’t even want you. Six years, and you wanted to cry more than you ever had in that timeframe.
Across the hall, the front door creaked open.
“I’m home!” Jack called out, his voice joining the familiar sound of his uneven gate. “Here’s what I’m thinking: you and me down at The Craft tonight for dinner.”
If only he knew what was waiting for him once he walked through the threshold. His eyes were downcast at his phone when he finally did.
“How does that sound?” He glanced once, looked back down before fully looking back up when he realized that you were just sitting there. “Sweetheart?”
“Jack,” you stated back, your voice staying steady with a strong cadence. “We’re not going to have dinner at The Craft.”
“Oh.” He pocketed his phone and walked over to the table, sitting in the seat he normally did so he could get on your eye level. “Do you want to go somewhere different then? I think I can get a seat for us at—”
“Jack,” you repeated and finally met his hazel eyes. “We’re not going to dinner . . . period. I—” You sighed and looked up to the ceiling. “I’m leaving.”
His brows pinched tightly, almost meeting in the middle of his forehead. “You’re-you’re leaving? For a vacation, or is this another one of your work trips?”
Your face morphed into one of grief and sorrow. “Jack,” your voice broke around his name. “I’m leaving you.”
He jerked in the seat, and his nose flared as he sucked in a breath. “Is-is this because of California?” he croaked.
“It’s because of all of it. I’m tired of feeling like I’m going to forever be on the backburner of your life.”
“That’s not true—”
“But it is,” you insisted softly. “I’m constantly battling for your attention with the hospital, your phone, your friends. You decide to pick up extra shifts, you decide to come home late, you decide that you can reschedule with me later while you go out doing God knows what. And I’m stuck on the sidelines, and I’m so tired.”
"I-I didn’t know." Jack frowned. “Please, I-I can’t lose you too.” He stuck out a hand, palm upwards, for you to take.
Against everything inside you that told you not to, you placed your hand into his. “That’s the thing, Jack. You lost me a long time ago.”
“No,” he stated, more to himself than to you. “No, I—” With his free hand, he dug around in his pocket before pulling out a small box that took your breath away. “I was going to . . . at dinner.” He popped it open, and your eyes watered at the ring in the middle. “Let me make this right. Let me fix this, please.”
You gently took your hand out of his and placed it over the box, closing it shut with the softest snap. “There’s nothing to fix. Can’t you see? You’re already thinking of other ways—outside ways—to make me stay when I’m right here in front of you.”
A sob bubbled from deep in his chest, and he shook his head. “I love you.”
You pushed up from your seat and stood in front of him, hands settling on both sides of his face. He instantly dug his forehead into your stomach and wrapped his arms around your thighs. Your fingers ran through his salt-and-peppered curls.
“If you truly love me, you need to let me go, Jack,” you whispered.
Another sob hiccuped through his body at your words spoken so sweetly to him as if you weren’t breaking his heart into two. “I’m sorry,” he openly wept. “I’m so so so sorry.”
You stepped back enough to make him look up at you. The smile that plastered itself on your face was watery and crooked, and Jack hated that he was the one to put it there. He should have been making you genuinely smile as he pushed the ring onto your finger under the night sky.
But here he was, having to watch you drift away from him like sand through open fingers. Jack sat back against the chair as tears slid down his face and flinched when the front door clicked closed. This was it; you weren’t coming back.
And it was all his fault.
If loving me means saying, “Babe, I think this is the end.” Well, I guess, I wish, I wish, I wish you loved me less.
a/n - WOW, I can not believe the love pt.1 got!! I seriously can’t thank you guys enough!! I hope this is good enough as a sequel, I genuinely did not know what to come up with but I didn’t want to keep you guys waiting any longer <3
E | cw - manipulation, hinting to violence, dark themes
5:50 PM
I'm thinking about Jack Abbot trying to get his new pregnant!neighbor to move in with him. It was only a few weeks after you decided to shoulder both parts of parenthood on your own when Jack asked if maybe, you'd like to move in with him.
Sure, he just set up your nursery, but that's okay because he can take it all down and put it back up again if it means you're just that much closer. It wasn’t super weird to ask; I mean, his apartment was bigger, he wasn’t there for long stretches of time, and most of all, you’d have more stability financially.
“You don’t have to pay me a thing, hun. I already have the place almost paid off. Save your money for the baby, sweetheart.” Something about that made you burst with heat; deep within you, something that just wanted to be cared for and held in the highest regard. No begging for attention, or the bare minimum anymore, just handouts of love, affection, and of course, whatever you desired.
Unfortunately, it sounded too good to be true and it left you hesitant. Who were you to take advantage of an older widower who had truly been such a gentleman to you? You felt you were in the wrong and maybe putting too much on him, so you pulled back. You didn't want to take advantage of his kindness.
Little did you know how wrong you were. Jack hated the pause in your actions; suddenly you weren't texting or showing up at his door. Even on his way home, he’d seen you struggling to carry groceries in just so you wouldn’t have to call on him. Jack needed to fix this; he had to make you depend on him. So he would have to give you a reason too and fix this lull in behavior.
One day, while you're out shopping for newborn clothes, Jack sneaks into your apartment using the key he copied from your spare. He felt little shame. He knew you were gonna give him a key one day; he was just speeding things along.
As he let himself in, he walked stiffly to the kitchen sink, his toolbox tightly in hand. He tried to work quickly, getting in and out of your apartment, then going to sit and wait for you to arrive in his own home. What he left was a few loose bolts and screws, causing quite a big mess for you to clean up when you came home to wash your hands.
It was a sight for sore eyes, and Jack had the sorest for you. Wearing a cream shirt, light and flowy to avoid any tight-fitting around your belly. But now it was a second skin; newly swollen breasts peaking through stiffly adjusting to the cold and irritation of a wet T-shirt. Jack couldn’t help but stare intermittently. He was so antsy for your arrival that he'd been sitting in front of his own front door, and he would have been worried for you to notice how quickly he made it to the door if it wasn’t for how exasperated you were by the situation.
Of course you asked for his help, and of course he gave it. He’d been craving your presence for days, and it felt good to see your glowing self again. He played his part, apologizing that he overstepped, but you quickly reassured him. Telling him you didn't want him to take pity on you or for you to take advantage.
This wouldn't do, so he quickly soothed any worries you might have about you taking advantage of him.
Days later, your ex's mother started texting you, asking questions about her son, asking where he was, his involvement, and the last time he’d seen you. Completely clueless about the secrets Jack held about the situation, you wanted to help. You were friendly, helping your ex in law, but then she started getting desperate, and mean— Jack couldn’t have that with his new favorite girl, especially in your vulnerable state.
Things quickly escalated when she showed up to your door one night. Jack was in the middle of his shift, elbow deep in someone’s chest cavity when he felt his phone ring. Only one person calls him, and that’s you. Immediately, his mind was racing, finishing the internal sutures of a poor car accident victim before stripping his PPE off and clawing at his pocket for his phone.
When he’d gotten a hold of you, you were already sobbing, basically inconsolable. Scared and frustrated that this woman wouldn’t leave you alone, demanding you tell her where her deadbeat son went off to. Jack grip on the phone was painfully tight, jaw set so strongly, while his shoulders flared back with agitation and anxiety.
“Just hold on, sweetheart don’t worry, I’ll take care of it okay?”
It felt like it was only minutes after getting off the phone before the banging on the door suddenly stopped. A muffled yelp that cutoff before there was complete silence. Your hiccuped breathing slowed as your mind focused on the sudden loss of noise, alarms going off in your mind at the eerie silence. Than softly, two knocks resounded on the door.
“Sweetheart? Are you okay? Let me in, I’ll make it better.” It was Jack. As you swung the door open, you quickly looked to each sides of the hall, finding nothing and no one down either way.
“Where’d she go?” You sniffled, going to wipe away residual tears but before you could his hands stoped you. Swiping at the tracks himself instead and bringing you in close. You let him, returning the tight hug that soothed the fears that had been haunting you for the last hour.
“I’m not sure. I seen someone walk out when I buzzed in but no one was here when I got here.” You brows furrowed. You thought about how quickly Jack knocked after the banging stopped, the noise you heard behind the door after. However, before your mind could put together all the the bigger details, your own fears made your decision.
“I think I’d like to move in, Jack.” He smiled big, brushing some of your hair back behind your ear before kissing your forehead, something that made you feel fuzzy all over and a little light headed.
“I think that’s a great idea sweetheart. Go grab some of your stuff, let’s start tonight.” Jack watched intently as you agreed and grabbed what you needed for the night. He stopped to grab your pregnancy pillow; tucking it under his arm to keep the crescent moons of someone's nails that were left on his arm hidden as he walked you out of your apartment and into his.
I wanna say thank you guys so much for the love on my 2:06 AM thought post of Jack liking his new neighbor. Srsly so amazing to see the love it’s getting and I’m definitely feeling the pressure to make a pt.2!!
I just wanted to express my gratitude for everyone who is reading my little Drabble and leaving their love, thank you sm guys <3
E | cw - slight manipulation, jacks got a thing for pregnancy but like nothing nsfw, eluded intimidation/threats
2:06 AM
I’m thinking of Jack Abbot who loves his new pregnant neighbor.
He doesn't think he’s seen a more beautiful pregnant woman than you, even with swollen feet that were always in slippers or sandals, or how your face was fuller than the older pictures he’d seen of you. He’d thought you looked amazing as you were, an amazing creator of life, who just shone with natural and effortless beauty, as life itself.
He easily found himself helping you with everything and anything before going to work every day. Moving your new furniture around, putting together the nursery, and helping you paint- basically any manual labor your deadbeat boyfriend was supposed to be doing.
That was a sore subject to him; he would get irrationally angry and possessive when he did come around, asking for handouts and overall douchebaggery he did not appreciate or warrant for this new age of boys. You seemed to never notice Jack's sudden abrasiveness towards your boyfriend, but then again, everyone was so it wasn’t much of a difference as with everyone else.
You were struggling with the decision of keeping your baby daddy in your life and soon to be born childs life. Embarrassed to be walking around with no father, but not ready to let him be in your child’s life if he kept up the way he was. Jack was adamant about not giving you his opinion, kept saying ‘it’s obvious, sweetheart, but I can’t be the one to tell you.’ Or ‘you wouldn’t care for what I think, it’s a little outdated’
The whole time, he just wants to put on a shotgun wedding and make you his before that baby comes so his last name is on both of you— but that’s not exactly feasible with that lowlife hanging around, so it’s about time he’d stop.
After texting no response from your ex in weeks, you decided to carry on your own, rushing to tell Jack next door as soon as you had the epiphany. He couldn’t be more thrilled; of course he was. Things were moving right on schedule; you were coming up on your third trimester, and he had a wife to move in.
