#dad!jack

jack’s entire countenance softens. it’s a complete transformation that still makes your heart skip a beat even after all these years of marriage. he shifts his arm to secure your son against his chest, his gaze locking onto the ice where the team is skating out for warm-ups.

there she is. number 14. her dark ponytail is braided tightly tonight, tucked securely beneath her helmet, but her fierce, determined blue eyes—so incredibly like her father's—are visible through the cage of her visor. she spots the three of you in the third row, raises her stick in a quick, proud salute, and then blasts down the ice, spraying a fan of white snow against the boards.

jack’s grip on your thigh tightens, his chest swelling with a quiet, fierce pride. "look at her go," he mutters, almost to himself.

"she’s grown so fast," you laugh, adjusting your son, who’s now moved to your lap, wiggling his legs as he chants his big sisters name. 

the game starts with a frantic, intensity. maya’s team is matched against a notoriously aggressive team from the next county over. the sound of skates slicing into the ice, the heavy thwack of composite sticks striking the puck, and the booming echoes of parents shouting formatting strategies fill the cavernous building.

jack is entirely captivated. his medical mind completely recedes, replaced by the instinctual drive of a father watching his child fight for every inch of ice. every time maya intercepts a pass or cleanly blocks an opposing forward from crossing the blue line, jack is on his feet, clapping his heavy hands together, his voice joining the chorus of the crowd.

"keep your head up, maya! look for the open ice!" he shouts, his authoritative baritone cutting right through the ambient noise of the rink.

beside him, your son is jumping up and down on your lap, waving his mittens wildly. "go, maya, go!"

by the third period, the score is tied 2-2. the tension in the arena is thick enough to cut with a blade. the opposing team is growing frustrated, their checks are becoming heavier, and their play is pushing the boundaries of the referee's whistle. you find yourself gripping the edge of the wooden bleacher, a knot of protective anxiety tight in your stomach as your eyes follow maya’s figure up and down the ice. you glance at jack; his jaw is set, his eyes narrowed as he tracks a particularly aggressive opposing forward who has been shadowing maya all night.

then, before you can blink or yell maya’s name in an attempt to warn her, yours and jack’s world tilts in a fraction of a second.

maya gathers the puck behind her own net, looking up to spark a breakout pass. she doesn't see the opposing winger barreling down the ice from her blind side, moving with terrifying momentum.

crash.

the impact is deafening. the sound of heavy plastic padding slamming against the plexiglas echo through the entire rink. maya is thrown completely off her feet, her body twisting awkwardly as she is pinned against the boards before collapsing hard onto the unforgiving ice. the puck skitters away, forgotten.

the referee’s whistle blows frantically. the entire arena goes deathly silent.

in an instant, the world slows to a crawl. you feel the air leave your lungs, your hand flying to your mouth as you stand up, holding your son tigh to your chest. beside you, jack is already on his feet. the transition is instantaneous; the relaxed hockey dad vanishes and the elite dr abbot takes his place, his internal monologue firing at a million miles an hour.

she’s moving her arms, so no loss of consciousness. thank goodness. she didn’t hit the back of her head directly, but the deceleration was severe. checking for spinal alignment. is she guarding her wrist?

jack’s hand drops onto your shoulder, his grip incredibly firm, anchoring you even as his own face goes pale. "stay with the boy," he commands softly, his voice cutting through your mounting panic with absolute clarity. 

he is already moving toward the stairs, his boots thudding heavily against the concrete steps as he prepares to leap over the barrier if the coaching staff signals for medical assistance. you can see the raw, agonizing conflict in his posture—the desperate urge of a father wanting to sprint across the ice to gather his hurt child, warred against the clinical restraint of a doctor waiting for the official signal.

on the ice, maya is on her hands and knees. time seems to stretch into eternity. she shakes her head once, twice, a spray of ice falling from her helmet. the trainer is jogging toward her, but before he can even cross the blue line, maya places her stick flat on the ice.

with a grimace that you can recognize even from the stands, she pushes herself up. she stands on her skates, stumbles for a brief half-second, and then firmly plants her blades into the ice. she taps her stick against her pads, looks directly over at her bench, and gives her coach a sharp, defiant nod that clearly says i’m staying out here.

the home crowd erupts into a deafening roar of applause and relief.

jack stops at the bottom of the bleacher stairs. he lets out a massive, shuddering breath that clears his lungs of the icy panic, his shoulders dropping three inches. he watches her skate a quick, testing circle, making sure her stride is even and her head is clear as she talks to the referee.

he walks back up the stairs, his eyes meeting yours. the sheer relief in his expression is profound. he slides back into the row, pulling you tightly against his side, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his chest.

"she's fine," jack whispers, his voice a little rough around the edges as he presses his forehead against yours for a brief, grounding moment. "judging by the look on her face, she’s just incredibly pissed off."

you let out a shaky laugh, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "she gets that damn stubbornness from you, you know."

"good," jack murmurs, his hand sliding down to hold yours, his thumb rubbing comforting circles over your skin. "she's going to need it."

maya doesn't just stay in the game; she plays like a girl possessed. with less than two minutes remaining on the clock, she intercepts a sloppy pass at the blue line, drives into the offensive zone, and unleashes a ferocious, sweeping wrist shot.

the puck flies past the opposing goaltender's glove, hitting the back of the twine with a satisfying, metallic ping.

the buzzer sounds. the game is over. maya’s team wins 3-2.

the celebration in the stands is chaotic and joyful. your son is jumping so high jack has to catch him by the waistband of his pants to keep him from tumbling over the row in front of you. down on the ice, maya is swallowed up in a joyous mob of teammates, her stick raised high in the air.

by the time you all gather in the chilly hallway outside the locker rooms, the adrenaline has finally begun to fade, leaving behind a warm, exhausted contentment. when the heavy wooden door finally swings open, maya walks out, her massive hockey bag slung over one shoulder, her hair damp from the shower and sticking to her forehead. she looks tired, but her smile is radiant.

before she can say a word, her little brother launches himself at her knees. "maya! you smashed it! you made the big goal!"

maya laughs, dropping her bag with a heavy thud to scoop him up into a clumsy, padded hug. "thanks, buddy."

then, she looks up at her parents. jack steps forward and reaches out, pulling both maya and your son into his massive arms, burying his face in her damp hair just like he did in the emergency room weeks ago.

"i am so proud of you, sweetheart," jack says, his voice thick with genuine emotion. "the goal was incredible, but the way you got back up after that hit? that’s what matters. you were incredible."

maya beams, leaning into her dad’s embrace. "i saw you standing at the bottom of the stairs, dad. i knew if i didn't get up in five seconds, you were going to skate out there in your boots and embarrass me in front of the whole league."

jack laughs, a bright, unburdened sound that makes several passing parents look over in surprise. "you're damn right i was."

twenty minutes later the four of you are slid into a deep, plush vinyl booth at your favorite diner; a cozy, retro twenty-four-hour spot just down the road from the arena. the restaurant is bathed in the warm, golden glow of neon signs, the air rich with the aroma of sizzling burgers, hot gravy, and fresh coffee.

maya is sitting on one side of the booth, her medal proudly hanging off her neck, while your son is nestled right next to her, happily coloring on a children's menu with a box of crayons. you and jack sit opposite them, your legs intertwined beneath the table, basking in the uncomplicated joy of the moment.

a massive, towering platter of chili-cheese fries sits in the exact center of the table, a communal prize for a hard-fought victory.

"alright, champion," jack says, leaning forward with a rare, relaxed playful glint in his eyes as he points a fry at his daughter. "walk me through that final shot. from my angle, it looked like you caught the goalie leaning the wrong way entirely."

maya’s eyes light up, and for the next fifteen minutes, she launches into an incredibly detailed, animated play-by-play description of the third period. she uses a salt shaker and a pepper grinder to demonstrate player positioning on the laminate tabletop, her hands gesturing wildly.

you watch jack as she speaks. he isn't checking his phone for hospital updates; his mind isn't drifting back to the trauma bays or the endless paperwork waiting on his desk. he is entirely, beautifully present. he listens to his daughter with a profound, unhurried respect, nodding along to her strategies, offering gentle critiques, and laughing loudly when she describes her defensive partner's mid-game trash-talk.

"and then," maya finishes, taking a massive, triumphant bite of a slider, "i just closed my eyes and shot it as hard as i could."

"an excellent strategy," you joke, reaching across the table to wipe a stray smudge of ketchup from her chin.

"hey, i used that same strategy for my residency exams. and it worked wonderfully," jack points out smoothly, earning a collective laugh from the entire table.

as the evening progresses, the high-energy excitement of the victory slowly transitions into a soft, heavy drowsiness. your son’s babbling slows down until his coloring crayon slips from his fingers. he blinks sleepily, his small head rolling over until it rests heavily against maya’s shoulder. maya, shifts her arm around him, pulling him close against her side while she sips the last of her strawberry milkshake.

the diner quietens down around you, the gentle clink of silverware and the soft hum of the jukebox providing a perfect background track to your family's peace.

jack shifts closer to you in the booth, his long arm sliding over the back of the seat to wrap securely around your shoulders. he pulls you against his side, his fingers gently playing with the ends of your hair. you look up at him, noting the way the warm neon light catches the sharp lines of his jaw, softening the edges of a man who spends his life fighting death.

"you're very quiet tonight," you whisper, resting your hand flat against his chest, feeling the steady, calm thrum of his heartbeat.

jack looks down at you, his blue eyes dark with a depth of affection that catches your breath. he captures your hand, bringing it to his lips to press a soft, lingering kiss against your knuckles.

"i’m just thinking about how incredibly lucky i am," jack says softly, his voice dropping to a low, intimate register meant only for your ears. he looks across the table at his two children, one fast asleep, the other happily zoning out after a massive victory, and then back to you.

"for a long time, i thought keeping my life organized in separate compartments was the only way to protect you all from the messiness of my work world. but tonight... seeing you all here, seeing how strong our little girl is, how safe i feel with you... i realize this, our little family, isn't just my escape from the chaos. you three are the only reason i survive every shift."

your eyes grow a little glossy at his words. you lean up, pressing a sweet, deep kiss against his lips, tasting the faint trace of black coffee and the profound warmth of his devotion. jack lets out a soft, contented sound against your mouth, breaking the kiss to rest his cheek against the top of your head.

“we aren't going anywhere, jack."

after the bill arrives jack gently gathers your sleeping son into his arms, guiding you and your tired, victorious daughter out into the car under the crisp, starry night. one hand pressed against the small of your back as he softly speaks to maya. you stand there, watching him as he puts the kids inside the car, making sure they’re seatbelts are fastened and reminding both of them they have to brush their teeth when they get home.

when he finally steps back, jack looks at you over his shoulder, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips.

“what are you thinking?”

“oh, nothing. i was admiring the view,” you wave a hand around, making a point of looking at his ass.

jack barks out a loud laugh, and the sound makes something inside you ignite. smiling softly, you walk the few steps that separate you from him dropping a kiss on his shoulder over his jacket.

“and i was thinking that i’m just so incredibly lucky to have you in my life, jack,” you murmur, quoting him from earlier. with one last kiss on his jaw, you finally whisper. “let’s go home.”

Jack Abbot had always been an encouraging attending. He would stand two feet back during a procedure that absolutely should have been done by a senior resident and calmly let the intern try anyway, hands folded, watching like a hawk but saying absolutely nothing.

If you were good, he trusted you.

If you were brave and good, he trusted you even more.

So when Joy Kwon, one of the two new interns in the ED, asked if she could perform the thoracostomy herself, no one was surprised when Jack simply stepped back and nodded.

What did surprise everyone was what happened during the procedure.

Garcia opened her mouth, clearly about to interrupt before his voice sounded first.

"Dr Garcia," Jack said calmly.

A pause.

"Let her cook."

For a second, the trauma bay went strangely quiet.

Joy didn’t laugh- only because she was currently hands deep in a patient’s chest cavity- but the corner of her mouth twitched upward into a quick, knowing smirk before she refocused on the procedure.

Across the room, Trinity Santos let out a short chuckle she tried- and failed- to hide as a cough.

Everyone else looked like their brains had just tripped over a loose wire.

Garcia blinked, trying to understand what just came out of the attending's mouth. Frank glanced between Jack and Garcia like he had missed an entire point in the conversation. Perlah's eyebrows climbed halfway up her forehead. And Donnie just stared at Jack like he was trying to recalculate everything he thought he knew about the man.

Jack, meanwhile, remained perfectly calm behind Joy, hands loosely clasped behind his back like he had just delivered a completely normal medical instruction.

"Hey," Trinity said a few minutes later, wandering over to where Mel, Javadi, and Whittaker were standing.

She leaned casually against the counter.

"Dr Abbot knows GenZ slang."

Whittaker blinked. "What?"

"Yeah," Trinity said. "He just told Garcia to let Joy cook with her thoracostomy."

Javadi made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a skeptical scoff.

"Dr Abbot?" She said. "Volunteers for SWAT on his free time Dr Abbot?"

"Yeah," Trinity said. "Everyone was so confused."

Mel frowned, clearly trying to piece together several things that did not belong in the same sentence.

"What- " she started. "What does that mean?"

Trinity blinked.

"What?"

"How would Joy cook a thoracostomy?" Mel asked slowly. "And why would Dr Abbot support that?"

There was a long pause.

Trinity stared at her.

Whittaker slowly covered his face with both hands.

Javadi looked like she was about to collapse from silent laughter.

"Oh you sweet child."

Jack kept thinking about it all the way home. How could he not, he’d felt everyone’s eyes on him for the rest of the shift- Santos grinned every time Jack said anything, and Joy suppressed a smirk whenever she made eye contact with him.

He dropped his bag by the kitchen counter where two fifteen year olds were sitting, both nearly done with whatever snack they’d raided from the pantry.

"Hey, Dad." Lara, the younger of the twins, said, picking up her plate before kissing his cheek.

"Hey, princess."

"Sup, Dad?" Percy, the older of the two, greeted.

"Hello, you brute."

Percy scoffed. "She’s a princess and I’m a brute. I see how it is."

Jack smirked, pouring himself a glass of water.

"I used a slang you guys told me about today. I think I did it right," Jack said casually.

So casually, in fact, that both his kids looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

"You what?"

Jack took a sip of water. "An intern was doing a complex procedure. Someone tried to interrupt, and I told them to let her cook."

There was a two second pause before Percy dropped his head onto the counter with a loud groan. Lara just stared at her dad like he'd just admitted to committing a crime.

"No," she gasped.

"No?" Jack frowned.

"You did not say that in the middle of a trauma!"

"Yeah, well." Jack shrugged, drinking the rest of the glass.

Percy lifted his head just enough to look at his dad, eyes wide and face red with secondhand embarrassment.

"Dad," he said slowly, "did anyone hear you?"

"Everyone."

Percy made a pained noise and leaned back in his chair.

"You traumatized everyone."

"They did seem confused," Jack admitted.

"Cause you’re an attending, not a TikTok comment section."

Jack paused for a minute.

"Well," he said calmly, "she ate."

Percy immediately buried his face in the counter again while Lara dried her hands, shaking her head as she moved out of the kitchen and further into the house.

He isn’t with you when you find out. In fact, he isn’t even home. He’s at a home game, playing against some old friend, meaning he won’t be home until after he goes out to dinner after the game.

Which means you’re alone, sitting on the bathroom floor, crying while staring at the positive pregnancy test. You’re not crying because you aren’t ready for a baby. After all, the truth is, you have wanted a baby for a while.

You’re crying because you’re scared. Scared of the process, yes, but more afraid of what Jack is going to think. He is early in his career, and a baby is a huge responsibility. You trust Jack with your whole heart, but you can’t fight the insufferable thought that he might leave.

Deep down, you know he won’t, but your heart doesn’t listen. And even if he doesn’t leave, will he treat you differently? You can’t even bear the thought.

You pull yourself up from the floor, hiding the test in a drawer and attempting to pull yourself together. “He’ll be supportive,” you tell yourself. You hope with your whole heart that he is happy about this, because then having this baby will be the biggest joy without the weight of his dislike on your shoulders.

—

You’re lying on the couch, scrolling on your phone, when you hear the front door open and a heavy bag drop on the floor. Seconds later, Jack walks into the living room with a smile.

“Hi, baby,” he says as he walks over and sits on the floor next to where your face is, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You force a smile, looking up at him.

“Hi, Jacky,” you reply. Your mind races, trying to think of any easy way to break this news to him before he figures out something is wrong. But Jack knows you like the back of his hand, so of course, he notices something is off.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He frowns, looking between your eyes and trying to figure out what’s bothering you.

Your breath catches as you try to speak, and your eyes betray you as they fill with tears again. Jack’s eyes widen in panic as his worry grows at the sight of your tears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he starts, standing up and pulling you to stand up with him. “You’re okay.” He wraps his arms around your waist impossibly tight. God, you love how much he worries about you.

“Jack…” you choke out.

“What, sweetheart? What is it?” He asks, attempting to stay calm.

“I-” you start, getting cut off by your own shaky breath. “I need to tell you something.” 

Jack gets even more worried. His mind races with all the worst-case scenarios. Are you breaking up with him? That’s all he can think of, causing tears to fill his eyes, too.

You take a deep breath, composing yourself enough to take his hand and drag him to the bathroom. Jack, though still worried, furrows his brows in confusion when you stop him in the doorway and begin rummaging through a drawer like you’re looking for something.

All worries of you leaving him diminish, because why would you be looking through a drawer to do that? He stays quiet, giving you time.

You let out a strangled sob as you slowly pull your hands from the drawer, hiding something behind your forearm. Jack takes a nervous step forward, still keeping distance in case you want it.

You step forward too, looking up at him nervously. You take one more deep breath before holding the pregnancy test to him anxiously.

Jack’s reaction is instant. His eyes widen, and his hands fly up so fast to grab it and look at it more closely. You’re waiting for him to freak out, yell, panic, anything like that. But to your surprise, the biggest smile you think you have ever seen on him graces his face.

“You’re pregnant?” He asks, looking at you, tears in his eyes. Tears of joy.

Seeing him smile eases all your nerves, and a smile grows on your face too as you cry and nod frantically at him.

Jack’s face slowly crumbles, and he pulls you into the tightest hug possible without squeezing you to death. He peppers kisses on your cheek in between shocked huffs.

“I’m gonna be a dad!” He exclaims. “You’re gonna be a mom!” His hands travel to your shoulders, and he shakes you gently. You laugh, pure joy filling your whole body as you smile and cry with him.

He leans in and presses his lips to yours as you melt into the kiss. When he pulls away, his expression becomes something softer. Something filled with love.

“We’re gonna be parents. Together,” he says.

You nod again, burying yourself in his chest. “I thought you were going to be mad,” you say to him.

“Mad?” He asks, surprised. “Sweetheart, this is the best news I’ve ever gotten,” he starts. “Sure, it’s difficult timing with my career and everything, but a baby? With you! Are you serious!?”

You giggle, forcing yourself closer to him. Jack’s hands slip down to your sides as he smoothes his thumbs over your belly.

“I love you. Both of you,” he says.

—

Throughout your whole pregnancy, Jack is an angel. Sure, he’s busy with hockey, but whenever he’s there, he’s there.

“Jack?” He hears you call from bed when he gets home. He smiles as he rushes to the bedroom to see you.

“Yes, honey?” He coos at you, flopping on the bed beside you.

You smile coyly at him, as if you’re about to ask him something that you think you shouldn’t.

“Uh oh, what’s that look for?” He smiles, propping himself up on his elbows as he looks at you.

“We’re out of my favorite chocolate,” you start, dragging the words out. “Could you maybe run to the store and get me some?” You smile at him hopefully, grabbing his fist in your hand.

Jack jumps up out of the bed and picks up his keys from the dresser. “What’s the magic word?” He jokes.

“Please?” You say, and just like that, he runs back out the door as you giggle lovingly at your sweet man.

And sure enough, less than an hour later, he is back with bags of your favorite chocolate. WAY too many of them.

“Jack!” You exclaim as you laugh at the ridiculous amounts of chocolate he dumps on your bed.

“I don’t want you to run out again,” he says proudly, and he tosses you one of the bags. He picks up another bag and tears it open, popping one into his mouth.

You roll your eyes, but your huge smile betrays you. You hold your arms out to him, and he crawls over, taking your invitation. He lies almost on top of you, but is mindful of your belly.

Jack presses two kisses to your cheek before pressing a longer one to your lips. “I love you,” he says as he nuzzles his face into your chest. You smile, a hand coming up to play with his hair.

“I love you too, Jacky.”

—

Later on in your pregnancy, Jack is even more attentive. You did not doubt that he would be. But what you didn’t expect is how obsessed he is with this baby already. 

You wake up to a hand rubbing your now very huge baby bump. When you turn your head to the side, you see… nothing?

Until you angle your head down more. Jack is lying with his head right beside your bump, smiling up at you.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says excitedly. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” He presses a quick kiss to your belly and then jumps up. “I made breakfast!”

You smile, reaching your hands out, silently asking for help getting up. He grabs your hands and helps you sit up, and then guides you to stand up off the bed. He leans in and gently kisses your forehead before guiding you to the kitchen, where you’re greeted with your favorite pancakes with strawberries.

Your face lights up, and you smile up at Jack in appreciation. “Honey, you’re too good to me,” you say, emotion lacing your tone.

Jack blushes proudly and looks into your eyes with love. “It was nothing. I would do anything for you, baby.”

You take your seat at the corner of the island and dig in. The pancakes are perfect, like always. Jack stays behind you, rubbing your back soothingly, since he knows you’ve expressed having a lot of back pain.

When you finish, you stand up, picking up your dishes in an attempt to go wash them, but Jack takes them from your hands and beats you to it.

“Sit back down, sweetheart. You don’t have to do anything,” Jack says to you with a smile. You smile in return and head for the couch. You sit down and lean back, sighing at the relief your body feels as you surrender standing up.

“Jacky, everything hurts,” you groan, half jokingly, half seriously. 

Jack looks at you with a frown. “What can I do for you, honey?” He asks, shoving the last dish in the dishwasher. He walks over and sits down beside you, placing a hand on your thigh.

“I don’t know,” you whine, looking at Jack with an exaggerated pout.

Jack smiles at you. “Do you want me to rub your back?” He asks, brushing his thumb over your thigh comfortingly.

You nod, already turning around for him to do so.

Jack doesn’t hesitate. He rubs your back gently at first, slowly applying more pressure until he hears you sigh, because that’s his sign that it’s working.

It’s times like these when you really think about how lucky you are to have him. You are even luckier to bring a child into the world and have the best dad they could possibly ask for.

You really can’t wait.

—

Lying in a hospital bed and delivering your son is not something you ever thought of as real until now…

…because it’s happening.

You’ve taken every pain medication they offer after hearing other moms’ horror stories about giving birth. The more you think about it, the more you panic. Jack is right at your side. You’re squeezing his hand with all your might, and he has his other hand squeezing both his hand and yours.

Through the whole process, you switch between staring up at Jack with wide, teary, scared eyes and squeezing your eyes shut and crying out.

Jack makes supportive comments the whole time, telling you how great you’re doing, how incredible you are, how beautiful you are, and more.

When your baby boy is finally placed on your chest, you’re crying tears of both joy and relief. He is so perfect, and it all feels so surreal.

Jack has a huge smile when he sees his son for the first time. But when he holds him? It’s over. The second that baby is in his arms, he starts ugly crying while rocking him and looking down at him.

You had a feeling Jack would cry. Like, maybe let a few tears slip. But ugly crying was not on your Jack bingo card.

Jack has been there for you every step of the way, always expressing his excitement over being a dad, and now it’s real.

And you just know that he is going to be perfect for your son, just like he is to you.

—

When you bring your son home for the first time, Jack manages to get a whole three days of his hockey schedule cleared after some deep pleading with his coaches.

And you couldn’t be more grateful. Sleep is a nightmare, but Jack has taken it upon himself to make sure you get all the sleep you can. He is always the one to soothe your son when he cries at night. He only lets you interfere if he needs to be fed, since you haven’t gotten around to bottle feeding yet.

Just watching Jack with your newborn as you get to relax is enough to melt your heart. 10 months ago, you never would have expected to be a mom this soon. But now it feels right, and you wouldn’t change a thing if you had a choice.

You’re already obsessed with your son, and you can’t wait to have more children.

Just hearing Jack rant about how your baby is going to be his best friend gives you enough ease through this initial difficult time.

Even if things are hard, you wouldn’t trade it for the world

a/n: i don't know a ton about pregnancy, so a lot of that is based off what i saw when my mom was pregnant with my sibling :) i had a lot of fun writing this, and i hope you enjoy this new au!!

taglist: @idkwhatthisis2009 , @rusty436 , @dancerbailey3

dad!jack who uses you for stress relief when he comes home from his shifts.

"big stretch, sweetpea," he murmurs as he sinks into you, not even bothering to wake you. the sun light just starts filtering into your room, painting your face golden. his cock splits you apart, no prep, no nothing. he presses his hand over your lips to swallow your pained gasp when he feels you wake.

you had been sleeping so prettily—on your tummy, one leg hiked up, only wearing one of his shirts and a cute pair of baby pink panties.

now, he fucks you so deep your teeth rattle and your hips ache.

grunts in your ear, telling you how pretty you are. how much he loves you. how you're the best thing in his life—the only good thing left in this world.

his tummy—a little bit of softness over the hard muscles—presses into your back as he thrusts in and out of you. his weight grounds you through the pain and pleasure.

"you're being so good for your old man," he praises. "such a good fucking girl. taking me so well. fuck..."

his hand on your mouth shifts to pry open your lips. you choke on his middle finger as he presses down on your tongue, forcing you to take him in deeper. spit dribbles down your chin, but daddy doesn't mind the mess. no, baby, you're doing just fine.

"doing so good, kid," he rumbles softly. "gimme two minutes. so fucking close. only need this pussy and nothin' else."

the tip of his cock drags deliciously over your g-spot, making you see stars. the pain has faded by then and made space for those tingles that creep up your spine.

"attagirl," jack whispers as he feels you clench around him. "give it to me, pretty girl. c'mon."

he fucks you harder, makes you gag on his fingers until you're coughing—every flutter of your lungs has your walls tightening around his cock. he moans as he feels you pulse.

"fuck, baby... cum for me. cum for daddy. make that pretty face."

“You’re having fun, huh, baby?” he murmured, adjusting his grip on her as he skated around effortlessly.

Your daughter giggled in response, her tiny fingers reaching for his face. She loved the feeling of gliding across the ice, even if she wasn’t doing much of the skating herself. Jack had been excited about this family skate for weeks—ever since the Devils set up a special event where players could bring their families onto the ice. You were skating beside them, laughing as you tried to capture the moment on your phone.

“She’s a natural,” you teased, watching as your daughter babbled something that sounded a lot like “dada” again.

Jack grinned. “Of course, she is. She’s got Hughes blood in her.”

Just as he said that, one of the Devils' media team members approached with a camera crew in tow. “Jack, Y/N, do you mind if we grab a quick interview?”

You nodded with a smile, gliding over beside Jack as the camera focused on the three of you. Your daughter squirmed slightly in his arms, her big eyes staring curiously at the microphone being held out toward him.

“Alright, we’re here with Jack Hughes, his wife Y/N, and their little one,” the interviewer began, smiling at the sight of your baby girl chewing on her sleeve. “Jack, how does it feel having your daughter out here for family skate?”

Jack’s eyes softened as he looked down at his daughter. “Oh, it’s the best. I mean, I spend so much time at the rink, and to be able to share this with her and Y/N… it’s special.” He bounced your daughter slightly in his arms, making her giggle. “She loves it. Might have a future hockey player here.”

You laughed. “I don’t know, Jack. I think she just likes being carried around while you do all the work.”

Your daughter let out an excited squeal, reaching out toward the microphone. The interviewer chuckled and held it closer, and your little girl immediately started babbling into it.

Jack’s face lit up with pure adoration. “Got something to say, baby?”

Your daughter smacked the mic with her tiny palm, her unintelligible babble filling the speakers. Everyone around you laughed as she continued, her little voice enthusiastic and full of energy.

“She’s stealing the show,” the interviewer said with a grin. “What do you think she’s saying, Jack?”

Jack hummed, pretending to interpret her baby talk. “She’s saying, ‘My dad is the best hockey player ever, and I love him so much.’”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “I think she’s saying, ‘My mom is the best, and I want a snack.’”

At the word “snack,” your daughter’s eyes widened, and she immediately reached for you, making grabby hands. “Mama!”

The entire crew melted at the sound, and Jack pouted dramatically. “Oh, come on! I was carrying you this whole time, and now you want Mom?”

Your daughter was relentless, though, so you took her from Jack’s arms, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. She settled against you, thumb in her mouth as she stared curiously at the camera.

“I think that means this interview is over,” you joked.

Jack wrapped an arm around you, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your head before turning back to the camera. “She runs the show, what can we do?”

The interviewer laughed. “Well, I think we got the cutest interview ever. Thanks for your time, Hughes family.”

As the camera crew walked away, Jack turned to you, his eyes shining with love. “That was adorable.”

You nodded, rocking your daughter gently. “She’s got your spotlight charm already.”

Jack wasn't used to long commitments, since his career was a thousand times more important than answering the 100 texts he gets if he doesn't answer the first call.

but when he met you at that newly opened bookstore, he was immediately attracted to you. And of course, the first thing he tried was to win you over, but you didn't want to give in, even though everything in your reactions indicated you reciprocated.

and you weren't going to deny it. God, Hughes is one of the most attractive and charming guys you've ever met, but since your last relationship, you preferred to focus on Kat and wait for her to grow up a little before even thinking about dates or hookups.

and you didn't really care about all that, so you continued to decline each invitation, without disrespecting him, just politely telling him you didn't feel like it.

however, this back and forth allowed Jack to get to know you, learn about you, your tastes, your habits, and little by little, it became routine to visit you at work, making up silly excuses about books just to hear your sweet voice. And so, without knowing it, he became conditioned, becoming addicted to your smile, to the way you laugh when he says something stupid, to your entire personality. To you.

and that led him to try harder and harder, without realizing everything he was leaving behind.

he began to give up parties, going from saturdays blasting loud music at home to saturdays talking for hours with you in the bookstore, leaning on the counter or helping you organize books.

and he began to gain your trust, you can't deny it. Because you knew what his intentions used to be, but you could also see how committed he was to just getting to know you, to learning more about who you are behind the physical attraction he felt.

still, he still didn't know about Kat, and you didn't know how to bring it up after a while, so you tried to make it natural, letting him see some pictures, awkwardly mentioning her in anecdotes, until he dared to ask.

and of course, he wanted to meet her afterward, but you weren't going to allow it. Not so easily.

you didn't want to get your hopes up, for your sweet little girl to get used to and attached to someone who might still only want you physically, who could vanish at any moment.

you didn't want to hurt her, even though she was still a baby and didn't understand many things.

so Jack was patient, taking the time to earn your trust, managing to take you on one date, and another, and another, until you fell completely for him, opening not only your heart to him, but also a direct pass into your little girl's life.

and when Jack met her? oh, it was as if a thousand things made sense for the first time. There, with his hand on your waist, watching you rock her, he felt at home. It felt right. And he knew that's where he always wanted to be, even if it meant leaving a part of his youth, the immaturity and freedom he used to have.

he couldn't help but bond with you both when that little girl, barely opening her eyes, took his finger in her tiny hand, squeezing it with her little strength, while the world felt so giant around her.

Jack then knew he had to protect her.

so he got involved.

he spent the next few years of his life being a father figure to Kat, even though her biological dad was still out there, on the streets of Newark, pretending he didn't have a daughter, a past.

and he grew attached. Oh, how he grew attached.

he watched her leave your breast, start to grow her first teeth, say her first words, take her first steps, have her first pigtails, become more aware of her own existence, and he couldn't be more proud, happy.

his world feels more complete, and people call him dad of the year every time they see him wave to the little girl in the glass near the ice.

god, she even has different jerseys with his number, with the word "daddy" on the back.

and Jack feels like he knows everything, that he's prepared for everything life can throw at him when it comes to her, because he knows the right path will always be the one that protects her and makes her happy.

but what he's not ready for… is when he's no longer enough. When his job starts interrupting quality time now that Kat is 4, almost 5, and she's constantly talking, and trying to include him in her life.

Jack feels like he's not seeing her live her childhood with every day he's away, and his heart breaks and melts every time he calls you and you show him the drawings the little girl is making because she misses him.

just imagine when she told him. When she stood in front of him, unsteady, with her sticky little fingers and her big, bright eyes, and asked him if he was leaving you, not understanding the weight of her question, and not understanding why the young man's eyes were turning a little glassy.

and he knows she doesn't do it on purpose, but it hurts, it hurts so much to know that the distance between him and his little girl is growing ever wider. So he asks you for help, for advice. He asks you about her all the time and tries to be there. But nothing ever feels enough.

and everything gets worse when Kat's birthday starts to approach, and he doesn't know if he'll be able to make it in time, to be there to wake her up like every year and with you give her the best of days, where the little girl only knows how to smile until her cheeks hurt, until her eyes close on their own, and she's exhausted all her energy being free and playing.

what's he supposed to do? how can he be in two places at once? it feels impossible, so the two of you try to find a solution. You spend hours and hours talking, trying to come up with a plan, until finally, an idea begins to take shape.

but he can't do it alone.

so, Kat and you travel to Michigan to see his family while he asks some of his friends to buy certain materials and tools, and come to his house to start part of the job while he arrives.

god, Jack hasn't bothered hammering, painting, moving furniture, or even thinking about decorating for a long time. But for her, just to see her happy, he's willing to do anything. So when he finally touches the floor of his house, he's unstoppable.

and those are tough days, when he empties the little girl's room and, together with his friends, takes on the task of painting it once more, trying to bring out artistic talents they didn't really have; using contacts, and any kind of help to make the place feel like those princess stories he knows she loves.

because Jack paid attention to every conversation, to every babble the little girl uttered while watching barbie and the 12 dancing princesses for the first time, or when she watched tangled, the princess and the frog, and all those movies. He paid attention to how her eyes filled with sparkle and excitement when the princesses learned that by dancing on the flowers painted on the floor they could reach that magical place. He paid attention to the times she tried to imitate them, trying to spin, and falling unsteadily in each attempt.

Jack knows that Kat loves to dance, that she loves the princesses, the stories, the illusion. And he knows that her previous decor looked like it belonged on a much younger baby, and that he needed to update it to something that matched her current tastes, so… why not?

he'd do anything to see her happy, even if it meant calling his sweaty, idiot friends to build a fairytale room, having to bribe them with alcohol, with fun after the help.

he'd do it a thousand times just for her. To remind her he wasn't going anywhere. Because calling her for her birthday wasn't enough.

he'd do it a thousand times because it's all worth it when she walks into the room and gasps, staring with wide eyes at absolutely everything, from the drawings on the ceiling, to the tangled lamps, and the flowers, and the huge draw of peter pan on one of the walls.

it's all worth it when she sees the huge drawing on the floor in front of her bed. That circle with the 12 flowers.

everyone watched in silence as she took small steps, trying not to trip on her white dress (like a princess), until she reached the drawing and tried to spin over one of the flowers, this time without falling, surprising everyone, including herself.

"dad, i did it!" she said, in that little and sweet voice, as she ran into Jack's arms. He laughed and picked her up, placing a sweet kiss on her cheek, feeling a warmth in his chest knowing he was making her happy.

and yes, he knows that a material gift isn't proof of his love, but he also knows that she'll think of him every time she enters her room, and as she grows up, this will be one of her reminders that he listens to everything she says, that he pays attention and tries to make her happy, even when they're not in the same place.

and he knows that a material gift often doesn't mean much to people, but you have no doubt what this meant to her, because you can see it in her face, in how happy she is, in how she looks at Jack as if he'd given her the entire universe.

you know that even though everything was fragile for a moment, this detail helped them, reminding her that Jack would always be there for her. Because he chose them, because by falling in love with you, he joined a different life, and he welcomed her with open arms, even when he didn't know what was coming.

The pre-k that the twins attend is hosting a daddy, daughter dance. Of course it just so happens to fall just shortly after having hosted a mother, son event. Cherry brought home the flyer in her folder and Y/n felt her heart plummet when she saw it.

How does she explain to her sweet baby girl that she’s not getting to go to her special event but her mommy took bubs to his mother-son event?

Answer: Cherry had it covered.

Or so she thought.

The next time Cherry saw Jack was on the flight to Vancouver for the Devils vs Canucks. Yes, an away game that Y/n had to travel to. Having no family nearby and lack of a co-parent, she had no choice but to bring the twins with her. Not that, that was an issue. It wasn’t, management understood and were accommodating…most of the time.

Cherry was sitting next to Jack on the flight. An arrangement Y/n had to awkwardly ask Jack for. This was an accommodation management would not have been willing to adjust.

Out of the blue, Cherry suddenly refused to fly unless she sat with him. She threw a full on tantrum over it. Screaming, crying, and throwing things. Y/n was embarrassed by her behavior, Cherry never acted like this. Especially in public. Little did Y/n know it was all apart of her little self’s scheme.

Some time into the flight Cherry poked Jack in the side to wake him up. She had a huge grin on her face when he looked down at her, peeking out of one eye. “Yes, little cher-bear?” He whispered to her. She giggled at the nickname he called her and wiggled up in her seat. She motioned for him to lean down so she could attempt to whisper in his ear. “Jacky, will you be my daddy?”

Jack choked back a surprised cough. He reached for his water in an attempt to wet his suddenly dry mouth. “Cher-bear? What did you say?” He asked her. Knowing good and well what she asked him. But he still wanted her to repeat it for good measure.

With the sassiness she’d most definitely picked up from watching his press after games she repeated herself. “I said, will you be my daddy?”

“Sweetheart,” Jack sighed knowing he’s about to crush his tiny best friend’s heart. “I can’t be your daddy. Your mommy and I don’t like each other like that.” Jack watched her face fall from excited, and hopeful, to defeated and sad.