lukey getting his girlfriend a promise ring but most definitely forgets to tell his brothers so when she pulls up to the lake house with a ring on her ring finger they’re jumping to conclusions?
thank you for requesting!🫶🏽
.
“Did you know?”
Quinn blinked, frowning at the way Jack pushed into his room and quickly shut the door behind him before spinning back around to glare at him. He was almost tempted to tease him over his odd behaviour before he noticed the genuine hurt and panic in his brother’s gaze.
“Know what?” Quinn asked.
“That Luke is fucking engaged,” Jack hissed out, muscles in his jaw twitching at the pressure of his teeth gritting together. “Why the fuck did he not say anything? Why the fuck did you not say anything? I literally live with him, how the hell did he not tell me anything?”
Quinn blinked. “What the hell are you talking about? Luke is not engaged.”
“My mistake, the huge fucking ring on his girlfriend’s left ring finger gave me the wrong impression,” Jack snapped back, pissed off and upset and feeling a little overwhelmed at the thought of his younger brother—his baby brother—being engaged when he barely knows how to work a damn washing machine.
Quinn choked out a surprised noise. “The what?”
“The fucker got engaged and didn’t even tell us,” Jack hissed, beginning to pace around the room. “Oh god, Mom is gonna kill him. Mom is gonna kill us.”
Quinn frowned. “Why did he not tell us he was even thinking about proposing?”
Jack huffed. “When the fuck did he even get engaged?”
Quinn shot his brother a blank look. “They just came back from a weekend away. Take a fucking guess.”
Jack’s nose scrunched up. “In Ohio. Who the fuck gets engaged in Ohio?”
Quinn let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair as he quickly stood up from his spot on the bed. “We need to talk to him.”
“What the fuck do we say?” Jack questioned, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. "Congratulations?"
“What else can we say?” Quinn retorted, shaking his head. “That we love and support him but what the fuck is he thinking getting engaged and not telling anybody?”
Jack shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”
Quinn rolled his eyes. “Jack, you can’t say shit like that.”
“Can’t say shit like what?”
Both boys snapped their heads around to find Luke standing in the doorway, a stick of beef jerky in his hand that he was currently munching on as he looked between the two of them with an odd expression.
“What? What did I miss?” Luke frowned.
Despite the initial hurt and anger he felt minutes ago, Jack couldn’t stop himself from darting forward and dragging his little brother into a hug. “You’re a dick for not saying anything to us but I am happy for you, even if I think you’re a little young. We love and support you no matter what, bud.”
Luke’s arms awkwardly hung by his side before he slowly patted Jack’s back. “Thanks?”
Quinn looked a little more pensive, a softer expression on his face. “You could have told us, you know? We would have helped you pick out a ring or whatever else you needed.”
“Oh,” Luke’s eyes widened a little before he shrugged. “It was no biggie, Bratter knew a few good places around Jersey so I was able to get it before we left after playoffs. I didn’t think either of you would really care.”
Jack quickly stepped back, the anger suddenly back and rearing. “Woah, hold the fuck up, Bratter knew you were getting engaged before me? Your brother? What the fuck?”
“Engaged?” Luke repeated with a look of confusion. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You’re engaged!” Jack insisted, his eyes narrowed in a glare. “I saw the ring!”
Luke blinked before snorting. “It’s a promise ring, dumbass.”
Quinn sighed.
“Oh,” was all Jack managed to get out.
“I mean, I love her but like,” Luke shrugged, suddenly looking young and sheepish. “That is a big step, you know? But I’m serious about her. I wanted her to know that too.”
“Right,” Quinn sighed again, pressing his fingertips to his temples before smiling a little. “We are happy for you. Both of you. She’s good for you.”
Luke smiled a little.
Jack nodded. “And that is one hell of a promise ring, bud.”
Luke groaned, rolling his eyes as he already began to turn to leave the room.
But Jack continued. “I mean, not that it would hurt your bank account since I buy you everything—”
Summary: You struggle to cope with the guilt of multiple breaches of contract.
Kinks & TW: regret, mentions of rule breaking/breach of contract, no smut in this chapter.
Word Count: 1.6k+
With every step, your foot scraped against the floor—lift, toe drag, stumble, repeat. The motion was mechanical, born of necessity rather than will. The weight of your reality pressed down on you, suffocating and relentless, guilt coiling around your chest like an iron chain. You teetered on the edge of collapse, but you couldn’t fall—not yet. Not until the sanctuary of your apartment swallowed you whole.
Each movement felt automatic, your body operating on instinct as if thought itself had abandoned you. Breathing wasn’t deliberate; if it were, you might have suffocated there in the dim, lifeless lobby, waiting for the elevator’s arrival. Its droning ding pierced the silence, a cruel reminder of time’s sluggish crawl.
Inside, the elevator's ascent stretched endlessly, a distorted loop of seconds and minutes. When the doors slid open on your floor, you reached into your pocket, fingertips brushing the cool, jagged edges of your keys. Wrapping them tightly in your fist, you felt their bite against your palm as you shuffled toward your door. But your trembling hands betrayed you. The keys slipped through your fingers, clattering to the ground—and you followed.
Your knees hit the floor, the impact dull and distant, as if it belonged to someone else. Pain existed only as an abstraction; all you could feel was the unbearable weight pressing down, and the hot, stinging tears carving paths down your cheeks. The sobs came unbidden, shaking your frame as you let your head fall into trembling hands, your bag forgotten at your side.
And that’s where Ross found you—crumpled outside your apartment, broken and unable to hide.
Your name left his lips, soft yet urgent, reverberating in your mind alongside the thud of his hurried footsteps. He dropped to his knees beside you, his presence a sudden, encompassing warmth. His hands found your shoulders first, drawing your gaze up from your hands, before his palms cupped your tear-streaked face, lifting your gaze just enough to meet his.
“What happened?” he asked, voice low but laced with concern. You tried to turn away, but his hands stayed steady. “Talk to me,” he pleaded, desperation threading through his words.
When your silence lingered, Ross’s hand slipped from your face, diving into his pocket for his phone. Whoever he intended to call, you couldn’t let him. Not now.
“Don’t,” you choked out, your voice breaking as fresh tears blurred your vision.
“Tony will—” he began, but your words cut him off, a bitter edge to your trembling tone.
“Tony will never look at me the same if he finds out what I’ve done.”
The weight of your admission hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Ross froze, his hand clutching his phone tightly, torn between defying your request and shouldering this alone. After a long, tense moment, he exhaled sharply, sliding the phone back into his pocket.
Wordlessly, he shifted to help you to your feet. His arm wrapped securely around your waist, steadying you, as he guided you toward your apartment door. His fingers fumbled through your key ring, trying one key after another. You should have told him which one it was, but the words wouldn’t come. You simply let him take the lead, too drained to do anything else.
When he finally unlocked the door, Ross led you inside with a care that felt foreign—like you were something precious rather than an object to be used and discarded. His movements were deliberate, his touch protective, as though you were more than a fleeting indulgence. In that moment, Ross treated you like you mattered. Like he truly cared.
His arms supported the very weight of you, your steps easier with his guidance, as he led you straight to your bedroom. There, he helped you get undressed like he had so many times before, but this time was different. There was no urgency, no hunger in his actions, just a gentle care as he took off each article and placed it in your laundry hamper one at a time. You shared subtle glances, your eyes welling up with tears, but you shared no words.
The silence between you was thick with unspoken fears as he disappeared into the bathroom, and it was then you finally crumbled. Falling down onto your bed, you pushed your face into your pillow to suffocate the sobs you'd been holding back. They tore up your throat as your pillow became hot and wet with tears.
Your face remained buried there until you felt Ross’ gentle touch on your shoulder. You drew back slowly, taking long blinks to clear the blur of tears from your eyes. And when Ross came into focus you could see him gazing down at you with soft eyes and a hot wash cloth in hand. He dropped to his knees slowly before he reached out and gently wiped the remnants of tears and makeup from your face.
“Thank you,” you breathed out when he was done.
Ross said nothing. Instead. He sat down beside you at the edge of your bed. His presence was a comforting weight as you gathered your blankets and the courage to speak.
“I messed up, Ross. I messed up so bad,” you whispered, your words barely audible.
“It's going to be okay,” he promised, as he drew you into his arms, hugging you tightly to him.
“I can't keep secrets anymore,” your voice broke as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck.
Ross didn't press for more information. He didn't need to know – or didn't want to know what you were so desperate to confess.
“You need to get some rest,” Ross whispered into your hair, the heath of his breath washing over you in a warm comfort. “We can talk about this more in the morning, okay?”
Nodding slowly, you welcomed his kiss as it was placed on your forehead. His lips were warm, As was the stroke of his hand as he pushed your hair back away from your face. You nuzzled in close to his touch, your eyes falling shut as you marveled in the simple calmness he brought you. He pulled you into his chest with ease and held you there, the steady beat of his heard the lullaby that brought you to sleep.
—
The next morning, you found yourself in the only place that felt right: Jon Cooper's office. You sat on the floor, looking far from yourself in a pair of sweatpants and oversized sweatshirt. Your hair wasn't done, and you hadn't wasted your time with makeup knowing full well that you would cry. And you had when you had spilled every single one of your secrets - with selective animosity for the sake of the player’s - to the Tampa Bay Lightning coach with the intent of resigning when you were through with your confession.
Cooper met you with an open mind, and a soft compassion that only a father of daughters could have. But before you could reach the finality of your resignation, the two of you had a plan and it started with meeting with the leadership core – but you couldn’t do it alone.
Sitting behind you in one of the chairs, his legs the support against your back, was Ross. He sat arched over, his arms wrapped around you to keep you calm as each member of the membership team entered the room. Each time the door opened, you stilled, the tension in the room thickened.
McDonagh, Hedman, Killorn, and finally Stamkos, they all gathered together and waited for Coach Cooper to announce what they had all been called there before their regularly scheduled practice for.
“It’s been brought to my attention that some rules have been broken,” Cooper addressed the players with a calm, yet demanding tone. They cast glances towards you and Ross on the opposite side of the room, and you were only left to wonder what rules they thought you two had broken before Cooper was speaking again. “What they were exactly, your wife won’t disclose to me fully, nor has she told me who was involved. For some reason, she wants to protect you idiots.
His words hung in the air, heavy with implication, “After great conversation, we determined the more reasonable thing for her to do would be to quit.”
“The playoffs–” Killorn began to cut in, but Cooper raised a hand, silencing him.
The floor was his, and his alone.
“Are right around the corner, I know.” Which is the only reason she is still here,” Cooper explained, “She cares about the team and doesn’t want to interfere with your chances at another cup. It’s also the reason I haven’t pressured her to tell me who was involved, because then, I’d have to tell the wives.”
You fought back tears as you glanced across the room and to leadership through tear-blurred vision. Each one of them left wondering just what happened, except the one of them that was guilty. A lump formed in the back of your throat as you watched Stamkos’ neck tense, a telltale sign of guilt or fear that was only noticed by you. He remained silent.
“I will be handling her calendar going forward,” Cooper continued, “she will also report to me after each appointment to ensure no infractions are made. I will also be giving another speech to the entire team with limited information, inciting the strictness of her activities to the playoff and not what you’ve learned today. Anyone found abusing the contract set out by your wives going forward will be scratched for the following game. Understood?”
A chorus of “Yes, Coach,” echoed through the room.
“Now,” Cooper sighed, “she will be taking leave until game one of the playoffs. I’ve instructed her to call me if any player contracted by their wives for her company tries to contact her during that time. Any player daring enough to do so will face the same punishment. Don’t go ruining a good thing gentlemen. You are dismissed.”
Ex boyfriend Quinn finds you outside by yourself at a party and you end up having a deep conversation about second chances.
it was a thought that you hated to say had been plaguing your mind, but you were so glad that quinn wasn’t the best man. i mean, in the grand scheme of things, you would much rather have your presence at your best friend’s wedding be captured beside her groom’s older brother as opposed to your ex-boyfriend.
so what if you and quinn had been the ones to introduce andrea and josh four years before?
the summer nights filled with double dates and catching flights between canadian cities when your boys would play each other had become a thing of the past as andrea and josh had not only beaten you and quinn to the aisle, they had also beaten you to forever.
as you had come to learn during the year of planning this wedding alongside andrea, there were a lot of hidden maid-of-honor duties that no one really talked about. most notably, making sure that neither hers nor her groom's mother comes barging through during their little pre-wedding romp.
you lift your glass of wine to your lips, stretching out your legs on the seat in front of you. the night was quiet (exempt were the noises coming from the house that you had chosen to tune out) as you gaze out onto the lake, catching sight of where your best friend would become a wife in less than eighteen hours.
a throat clears from behind you and you go rigid at the familiarity of it. you didn’t have to turn to know who was standing behind you. even after all these months, it’s like your body was still painfully aware of when he was near. his voice is quiet when he speaks and you can hear the unsureness in his tone when he asks, “can i join you?”
“be my guest,” you respond, turning your head before you down the rest of your wine. you silently curse yourself for not bringing the bottle out with you, but there was no way you were going inside to retrieve it.
the wood of the chair creaks under his weight and you don’t dare turn to look at him. you don’t know that you could and keep your composure and the main thing that you had promised yourself for this weekend is that you were done shedding tears over quinn hughes.
“kind of crazy that we’re here, huh?” he attempts small talk.
“not really,” you say, tone clipped, “it was just a matter of time. josh asked her to marry him the night we introduced them. i’m surprised they made it this long.”
“i still think that they eloped on their first date,” he says and even you can’t help but crack a smile. that was a joke that had been long running between the four of you and was something you had worked into your speech for tomorrow night. hearing it from quinn’s lips again just feels… different. a frog croaks near the lake and he clears his throat, “it should be us.”
“quinn!” you say, whipping your head around to face the man for the first time in ten months. his hair was shorter, no doubt still recovering from the summer trim he gets every year and he was clean shaven. even in the darkness, though, you couldn’t miss the way his eyes were sunken in. you had been there to witness the trials and tribulations of his first season as captain, the late nights filled with frustrated ramblings right before their playoff exit. you figured that it would get better, the two-week long “no phone” vacation would do him some good, but it seems he was still carrying that weight on his shoulders. “how could you say that?”
“do you think that we could have made it?” he follows your question with a question, wrapping his hand around the neck of his beer bottle. he’s only focused on you when he says, “if i would have tried harder, i mean.”
“i’m not going to have this conversation with you right now, quinn. our best friends are getting married tomorrow for-” at the sight of his hand pulling something out of the pocket of his sweatpants, you go quiet. the fire had been put out long ago, but you don’t miss the glimmer of the ring underneath the light of the moon. you feel like there’s a lump in your throat as you speak, “quinn, what is that?”
“your ring,” he says it so quietly that you almost miss it. not ‘the ring’ or ‘a ring’ this was your ring. “i bought it two summers ago, right before they named me captain. before i even knew that they were going to do it.”
you open and close your mouth a couple of times before you find the words that you want to say, “and you just carry it around?”
“lost the box. i usually keep it in my wallet for safe keeping,” he admits, “can’t sell it. the diamonds are from my grandmother’s necklace, the one she wanted you to have.”
“why didn’t you say something when-” you can’t finish the sentence.
he chuckles, “i’ve asked myself that same question every day since, y’know? i wanted it to be the right moment, but throwing a proposal at you when we’re fighting just didn’t seem-”
“and doing it now, now is the right moment for you?”
“i don’t like being without you, y/n,” he admits.
“well, we most definitely aren’t ready to go from nothing to- to that,” you gesture to the ring that he was still holding onto like a lifeline, “we have a lot of shit that we need to work out first. i didn’t just leave for the fun of it.”
“i’m willing to work it out if you are,” he offers, a hopeful glint in his eyes.
“quinn, that’s not what i’m saying. i just,” you take a deep breath, setting your gaze on the man who took up the better part of seven years of your life, “i can’t do this now. not here.”
“is there a time than that when you’re ready, we can talk?” he asks, “i don’t go back to vancouver until the end of august.”
“i never left vancouver,” you admit, watching as something unrecognizable flashes across his features at the notion that you had been in the same city this entire time. your shoulders fall as you catch josh slipping out of the house through your peripheral vision. you tilt your head slightly, watching as he freezes at the sight of you and quinn across from each other, but at the same time that it takes him to realize who you are with, you hear the laughter of the other bridesmaids coming up the trail. he must to because that sends him high tailing back in the direction of where he and his groomsman were holed up. you stand then, grabbing your glass and fixing your gaze on quinn, “i’ll be back in michigan until thursday. if there’s a time that works for you, well, you know where my parents live.”
“yeah, for sure,” he says and you turn on your heel, heading towards the house, but a call of your name stops you. he looks genuine when he says, “thank you.”
what is your eye color. what is your favorite color. what is the color that appears most frequently in your wardrobe. what color is your favorite blanket. what color is your water bottle.
baratheonpilled
blakekathryn
