#Brock Boeser imagine

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

because of brock

brock boeser x f!reader

summary: a breakup because of brock

warnings: swearing, hints of a slightly toxic relationship/lack of trust between two people, hints of unrecognised emotional infidelity, fluff, awkwardness

word count: 8.7k

Petey was first to knock – twenty minutes early as per usual. Usually you’d invite him in, sit him down, pour him and drink and carry on setting things up for everyone else; he’d offer a hand, maybe help lay the table. Not this time.

This time you threw the door open on your way to the kitchen, not even sparing a second to greet him, before rushing into the kitchen, the beeping of the oven signalling something was ready, but you couldn’t of the life of you remember what. You hadn’t wiped the table, put the tablecloth on, tidied the living room (or moved the mess from the living room into your room to at least make it look more presentable), got the drinks out, or even finished cooking everything.

And Petey took all of that in from where he’d stepped into your apartment, a bottle of wine securely in his hands, and sporting a slight wince upon hearing the swearing and clanging from the kitchen area. He quickly placed the wine on the table, shrugging his coat off – and for the first time ever, he found you accepting his offer for help, a rather frazzled look about you.

It was only after he’d got the drinks out of the fridge, wiped the table, put the tablecloth down, and double-counted the placemats that he knew that slightly frazzled look was for a reason. You hadn’t really uttered a word since he’d walked in, just a simple greeting and multiple thank you’s for his help. You hadn’t really smiled once, and you’d not even attempted small talk like you usually would.

You’d just kept quiet, throwing things in and out of the oven, eyes anxiously darting to the clock above the door.

Elias was a little hesitant at asking. There was something tingling in the back of his head, like he knew what you were about to say, and he wasn’t so sure if it would be okay to bring it up so close to everyone arriving if you got upset. He was also less-prepped on how to look after you. That had always fallen to Brock, or at least, it used to be.

He eyed you in the kitchen where you’d taken to stacking up the right number of plates, hair falling out of a braid, before carefully stepping closer, “Where’s Noah tonight?” He asked tentatively.

Elias almost winced at the cut-up glance you wore, swallowing hard and immediately avoiding looking at him. He could tell you were trying not to act too hurt, or maybe it was simply practice before you had to perform this facade in front of everyone else. Your hands were still busy, and he heard you sigh a little, “We broke up.” Was all you said, shooting a curious glance in his direction, probably to gauge his reaction.

And because Elias had suspected that answer, his face didn’t really tell a tale of shock. His brows were raised a little, but he was clearly sympathetic, offering a nod of understanding, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, more hair falling out of your braid. 

Elias nodded again, brain itching. You were good at acting like you were fine, but this was a new level of nonchalance – even for you.You’d clearly been a little flustered in the time he’d spent helping you set up, and nearly every year you stressed a little playing host, he’d beared witness to it time and time again; there was no other real evidence you were too affected by it – not like how he’d initially predicted.

There were no teary eyes, achy throats or raspy voices that suggested you were holding back tears. Your body language didn’t give anything away.

“When did you guys break up?” He found himself asking, more out of his own curiosity.

He knew you well, which was why he found there was something a little irksome about the entire thing.

You didn’t seem to care that he’d pried after you’d said you didn’t want to talk about it, because there was barely a second’s hesitation before you were answering him, “About two months ago, I think.”

Elias blinked. Two months? You think? He could have sworn last week you’d made a comment about Noah playing golf, which must have meant…

“Does Brock know?” He frowned, trying to work out the mental maths of the tangled timelines.

Brock hadn’t said anything about it if he knew. In fact, he’d been pretty miserable for a while, now that Elias was thinking about it, which meant–

“No.” 

Oh. Oh.

“You’re the only person that knows.” You admitted shyly, rubbing a hand against the back of your neck as you pressed your lips into a tight line, “I’m just trying to sort some things out, first. But please don’t mention anything, I want to be the one to tell people.”

He nodded, “Of course.”

You offered him a rather relieved smile, “Thanks.” You could tell Elias had about a hundred other questions he was dying to get the answers to, but his reserved smile let you know he respected your wishes. 

That, and the insinuation behind your words had been pretty clear – at least it would have been to Elias. To anyone else, maybe not so much.

***

Elias wasn’t an idiot, and he knew you didn’t take him as one, but it didn’t exactly take a genius to realise that you’d been avoiding Brock all night. The poor guy had been on edge since he walked into the apartment, probably expecting Noah to jump out from behind the door and send him glares all night, because that’s what had happened almost every time the two of them entered the same room within the last two years. 

You got quiet and kept a careful eye on Noah, yet remained ready to jump to Brock’s defence if Noah did end up being provoked in some way; Brock tried to stay out of it all, but it was kind of difficult when Noah kept making the issue about Brock, even if he hadn’t done anything worthy of the attention. And in all honesty, it had Elias wondering why you ever put up with Noah in the first place; even when it was you and Noah, it had always been you and Brock.

Yet, even after having broken up with Noah, you maintained that ten-feet-apart-unspoken-notion, and Elias had to applaud your dedication to keeping up appearances.

And he, ever the observer, could feel the tension get a little thicker with every minute that went by when some brave soul chickened out of bringing up the elephant in the room. He thought it was bad when everyone seemed to stall after greeting you at the door, having got used to Noah being at your hip, but things had gone from bad to worse after the food, and now it felt like the room was stifling with all the tension.

He supposed he should stay out of it, but he kept catching you and Brock share glances out of the corner of his eye, and each time you broke eye contact, he could practically feel Brock deflate next to him – and that was about as much as he could take before he turned to Quinn on his other side, the Captain quietly sipping on his drink and content to listen to others conversations.

He nudged him, and Quinn shot him a befuddled look before leaning closer, “Ask about Noah.” Elias whispered subtly, purposefully looking straight across the room to avoid arousing your suspicion.

Quinn seemed to think about it for a second, and Elias glanced back, only to be faced with raised eyebrows, and an ‘is this really what i think it is?’ look written on his face. Elias nodded, and Quinn sat up a little straighter, shooting a pointed stare at Brock’s side profile.

It took Elias' meaningful shake of his head for Quinn to instantly clear his throat and lean closer to you, “Hey, where’s Noah tonight?” 

His voice was quiet, a hushed murmur, but because of the close proximity Quinn had with Brock, the latter heard it perfectly. And Elias feigned composure, choosing to glue his eyes to Brock like he had no part in Quinn’s question – but even without actually looking at you, he could feel the temporary heat of your stare on the side of his face.

He just scratched his nose.

Brock on the other hand, seemed to still, his knuckles going a little white against the glass he’d clutched in his hand. And like Elias, he was subtle about his interest in the conversation, but he might have held his breath, and he might have tuned out everything else in a bid to make out your response.

If Noah wasn’t here, from Brock’s perspective, that meant he could actually talk to you. 

“Um…” He could sense you cringe at the question, and his brows furrowed a little. It wasn’t like you to hesitate, “In Atlanta.”

Brock couldn’t help the way his neck snapped to look at you. You were still giving Quinn your full attention, but almost like you could sense his piercing stare, your concentration wavered, slipping to him. And, for the life of him, Brock could not get a read on you. It was like your eyes were trying to tell him something, but the rest of your face seemed to remain neutral – completely unbothered by the fact that your boyfriend (who refused to travel for work) was not only in another country, but on the opposite side of the continent, almost.

Then, in the blink of an eye, you turned back to Quinn.

Brock didn’t move an inch, anticipation curling up his spine uncomfortably. 

Quinn seemed to follow his train of thought, though, because the next thing that came out of his mouth was an automatic, “How come?”

Brock could have sworn the corners of your mouth turned up fractionally. He could have sworn you just didn’t give a shit. 

“We broke up.” You shrugged simply.

If he’d had a mouthful of his drink, he would’ve spat it out. If he’d been standing, he’d have had to sit down, and he could have sworn his heart dropped to his feet all within a second. He felt warm, maybe a little too hot for comfort, and he had to take a swig of his drink to ease his dry mouth.

Quinn carried on, “Why?” Almost tumbled out of his mouth, perhaps in a manner that might have been viewed as a little insensitive, something he seemed to catch onto, but before he could even splutter an apology, you were already talking.

And Brock wanted to turn up the volume of your voice so he wouldn’t risk missing a single breath, pause or word of what you were about to say. He wanted to record it, so he could listen to it later and know he wasn’t making it all up in his head.

But when your eyes slid over to him for a mere millisecond, he almost fell on Elias. When someone asks why you broke up with your partner, you don’t look at the person who seemed to accidentally cause more arguments and tensions than ever recorded in your personal history. You don’t look at the person that probably understood you better than anyone else you’d ever met.

Because if you did, that meant something.

It meant it hadn’t been in Brock’s head: the soft looks when no one was looking; the gentle touches. It started out as a way to compensate for the way Noah seemed to zero in on your friendship and forbid either of you talking to each other in front of him. The hours you used to spend in each other’s company was reduced to almost nothing, and Brock had had to live through two years of that. Well…there were a few exceptions to that in regards to personal things – you’d actually moved in with him for a bit then.

But Brock had been missing you for two whole years, it didn’t matter that you had the same friends or saw each other every couple of weeks. He’d taken a step back, for your sake, but it had only made things worse.

And now you’d thrown him a glance.

“Just wanted different things.” 

Brock took a sip of his drink in an attempt to stop himself from scoffing at your blatant lie. It was written all over your face plain as day. Your shoulders were a little tense, and you could no longer look at Quinn for more than three seconds at a time before the uncomfortable-ness seemed to prick you in the temples.

And Brock knew that without you even saying anything.

Quinn nodded out of the corner of Brock’s eye, accepting the answer and clearly not wanting to pry for fear of making the entire situation more awkward.

And through the pounding heart and racing thoughts, Brock took a deep breath, turning to Elias only to see the blonde smirking at him from over the top of his glass. He didn’t have it in him to roll his eyes or pull a face at his friend, so he pushed himself out of his chair and made for the kitchen, glass empty.

Only, when he pulled open the door to the fridge, there was nothing left of what he had been drinking. For some reason, as he looked around at everything else on offer, he couldn’t pick. He was reading labels – familiar ones, too, ones that he liked – and he couldn’t decide which one he should settle for because he couldn’t have what he’d been drinking the entire night. He only wanted his drink, and all the other options were just becoming even less desirable by the second.

He stared at the contents a little while longer, the cold from the open door beginning to set a chill in his bones, before swallowing and shutting it without another thought. He could settle for lemonade or water or something. He turned to the sink, rinsing out his glass and picking the tea towel off the oven door like it was second nature, and it wasn’t until a glass was placed down on the kitchen island behind him that he was made aware he wasn’t alone.

His chest seemed to swell at seeing you awkwardly standing on the other side of the counter, looking rather as if you were about to say something. Your palm came down to rest against the cold granite, and you swung your eyes to the fridge, sighing and wandering over to it.

Brock turned back to the sink, keeping an eye on you in his peripheral vision. He almost smiled at the fact that you seemed to hesitate choosing something too, before shutting the door and turning to the bottle of wine already on the counter, hastily filling up a clean glass.

There was a strange tension between the two of you; not knowing what to say to each other because there was so much to say, but there were people in the other room, and it was all rather exhausting. You inhaled, trying to ease the familiar tightness in your chest that always seemed to appear when you looked at Brock.

He was wearing a pale blue button down with dark jeans, blonde hair swept back using his hands. He had his back to you, and you took a swig of wine to ease your nerves. 

It was as you placed the glass back on the counter, unconsciously twiddling your necklace that he turned around, leaning against the sink, towel thrown over his shoulder with a clean and dry glass in his hand.

He was looking at you, and you felt your lips twitch into a smile – awkward, but real – that disappeared almost as quickly as you’d done it. He didn’t echo the same sentiment, instead choosing to furrow his brows, clenching his jaw and zipping his eyes into the living room.

“Why did you break up with Noah?” He asked after a quiet moment, intently fixing his gaze on you as you inhaled, slightly caught off guard with the upfront question.

You’d expected him to ask it eventually, but this was the first time you’d had real privacy in ages. A little icebreaker wouldn’t have hurt. But now wasn’t really a time to joke or dance around it, either.

You just sighed, “Wanted different things.” It was the answer you’d given earlier – not a lie, exactly, but not the entire truth. And judging from the way Brock seemed to immediately leave after you’d told that to Quinn, he must have seen through it.

He blinked, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it, “Like what?” He challenged, folding the tea towel and putting it on the side, glass quickly following as he took a seat at the island, facing you.

The close proximity almost instinctively had you wanting to look over your shoulder to check if Noah was watching from somewhere, but then that feeling of paranoia seemed to dissolve. The knot in your chest loosened, and you felt your shoulders drop slightly. 

Part of the reason you’d held off telling people – Brock specifically – was that the truth would just invite even more questions. Maybe even arguments: you dated Noah for two years and when a couple has been together for a certain period of time, certain things are expected, and when that opportunity presents itself, sometimes the wrong questions are answered.

But you held your nerve, looking straight into Brock’s eyes as you hesitated a little. You’d never uttered the words to anyone other than your best friend and your parents.

“He proposed, actually.” You muttered, immediately biting the inside of your cheek as you watched Brock carefully.

It felt like a relief to admit it out loud, a load off your shoulders. Speaking about it made it true, and you felt less trapped because of it. Noah made you feel trapped, and a lack of Noah meant a lack of that claustrophobia. 

Brock seemed to freeze, his mouth parting in shock and any previous scepticism completely erased; his brows were furrowed, and he looked away from you, processing. One hand ran through his hair, and then, almost as if to check, his attention went straight to your left hand. At the noticeable blank space on your finger, he seemed to gain the courage to look at you again.

There was confusion there, but he seemed incapable of speaking.

“It’s kind of weird because I never actually knew what I was going to say when I thought about it as a hypothetical situation, but then he put the box on the restaurant table and people were watching, and it was the easiest and hardest ‘no’ I’ve ever had to say.” You breathed, clenching your jaw and trying to block out the look of betrayal on Noah’s face that had etched itself in your head – you couldn’t quite escape it yet. “And now he’s in Atlanta because he thought that it would make sense to propose and then make me move to another country because he got a promotion. Guess he hadn’t considered me not wanting to marry him.” You laughed, despite yourself, it quickly dying when the guilt came flooding in again.

You’d loved Noah, but it had changed towards the end – you both seemed to change, and a part of you was still mourning the future you thought you’d have had when you started dating.

It was funny how things changed, because you were pretty certain you were more in love with the blonde in your kitchen than you ever were with Noah, and it was just a shame that it took the threat of moving to Atlanta and marrying someone very much not him that made you realise it.

A man proposes, and the first thing you think about is leaving Brock, and suddenly the answer is just as clear as day. It had crept upon you slowly, harmlessly at first (a simple crush), until it had evolved into this loud, obnoxious thing that you couldn’t ignore.

You’d planned on breaking up with Noah anyway, it was starting to fizzle out for the both of you, only Noah’s reaction had been to propose. That had always been the difference.

“He proposed in public?” Brock asked, tone a little firmer, and when you quickly glanced at him there was some quiet rage on the planes of his face.

That had been the difference between Brock and Noah. Noah thought he knew you, but Brock was the one who actually did.

You nodded.

Brock scoffed, shaking his head, “He always was a dick.”

And you didn’t have the heart to disagree. You kept quiet, focusing on a spot on the granite work surface and absentmindedly taking a sip of your wine.

Brock seemed to take in your silence, looking at you closely. He hadn’t been able to get a read on you in front of everyone – you were always a little too good at keeping up appearances for the sake of not worrying others – the only difference was you seemed to unconsciously zone out of it when you were with him. Your eyes got softer, more vulnerable, and you seemed to unwind – like you knew you didn’t have to worry about being judged, or watched, or anything else.

It was always just you and Brock.

And that’s what was happening now: your hair fell in front of your face as you followed the wine glass with your eyes, and you didn’t make a move to tuck it behind your ear. Your eyes were glossy, not with unshed tears, but emotion, and you had bags under your eyes, probably from a lack of proper sleep. Brock supposed this dinner wasn’t helping matters either, especially not if he walked in through the front door to see Elias watching you with concern as you avoided everyone. It wasn’t just him. 

You lifted your head, eyes flitting to him briefly. 

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, feeling himself lean towards you. 

He wanted you to be okay, but it was a big ask given the circumstances. You nodded, but it did nothing to quell the rising urge to wrap you in his arms, have you touch him without having to worry about that shitty ex of yours. 

Selfishly, he didn’t want to let go if he gave into that urge, but, as usual, when it came to you, you were more important than his own silly little aches and yearns. He’d mastered patience at the expense of his own happiness when it came to you, and he could wait longer – that was a no-brainer.

But the nodding wasn’t comforting: you’d nodded when he’d asked you that before and been crying. It was like an automatic ‘I’m fine’ was just programmed into you, and he didn’t even think you were sure why you did it.

“Are you sure?” He asked, wanting, needing you to give him something else other than a nod.

“Yeah.” You breathed, hands a little clammy at the way he seemed to stare right into your soul, “It’s just…I thought I’d be more affected by it, but I-I’d already detached myself because I was going to break up with him anyway.” You trailed off, voice getting quieter as though your admission was taboo. 

Both of Brock’s hands seemed to lose sense as they fell to the counter, his arms crossing and then uncrossing.

It was instantaneous, the way he seemed to flush, his heart hammering at his ribcage at the insinuation of what you were saying. 

“You were?” He echoed, not quite believing it. Between the past few months, and everything you’d told and done this evening, he was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t just imagining things – everything that had happened was for a reason, “How long had you been thinking about breaking up with him?”

“A while.” Then, “It hadn’t felt right since the summer, and I’ve had, like, two months to think about it so–”

“You broke up two months ago?” 

The look on Brock’s face almost floored you. Somehow it had you regretting ever not telling him in the first place, even despite knowing it was for the better. There were so many emotions swimming in his eyes, but the only one you could pick out was upset.

It felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach.

“Apart from family, only Lauren knows.” You immediately began to backpedal, wanting to wipe the expression off his face as soon as you could: you had to make him realise. You weren’t quite ready to act on it, but you needed him to know, “I had to figure some stuff out before I told you. Noah had to move out and I changed the lease, and I needed to think things over.”

His face relaxed, before he raised a brow, something akin to an apprehensive understanding melting on his face, as though he was hesitant to take it for what you meant, “What things?”

You swallowed, nerves tingling in your chest. You inhaled, trying to build up your courage, “You things.”

He opened his mouth, leaning back as though the deliverance of your words knocked him backwards, but no words came out. And you didn’t quite have the bravery to keep looking at him when he didn’t know what to say, so you turned your back, reaching to fill up your wine glass again. 

You spun back around, only to face a still-dumbfounded Brock, and a hesitant Elias hovering by the doorway. You could tell from the way he still had a hand on the door and his frantic eyes as they hovered between you and Brock, that he instantly sensed he’d just walked in on something.

But you refused to look at Brock, mostly just because you didn’t know what you’d do if it turned out he was looking at you with distaste. In fact, you tried to avoid his eyes, though you could feel them piercing you with some desperation – but he didn’t say or indicate anything as you made your way back around the island, closer to the door and to Elias.

You tried a smile, though from the way the Swede seemed to switch his gaze from you to Brock behind you, with a little hardness, you figured it didn’t perform as you wanted. But you were glad for the interruption, “You coming in for a refill?” You asked, meeting him at the door.

He shook his head, dragging his attention back to you with a sorry smile, “No, I just came to say goodnight. Me, Quinn…and Brock are gonna go now. It’s getting pretty late.”

Brock shook his head from behind you, trying to catch Elias’s attention. He knew his friend was only making an excuse for him because you had looked a little shaken when he walked in, but you both had, and the last thing he wanted was to leave after that faint admission of some kind of non-platonic feelings. It had taken a lot in you, he could tell.

Not just the admission, but breaking up with Noah. And all Brock wanted was to sit you down and talk about it, not just for his own clarification, but because you needed to hear it from him, too.

Yet, with the stern glare Elias was pinning him over your head as the two of you hugged briefly in parting, he knew he didn’t have a choice. 

He stood next to Elias, who kept a firm grip on the back of his shirt like a parent and their kid with a tendency to go wandering off, but it was for different reasons. It seemed once Elias and Quinn had announced that the three of them were leaving, almost everyone else had taken inspiration, so now there was a queue to the door and you, and Brock was seemingly at the back.

He wanted to say goodbye, but he had a gut feeling that he was about to be dragged out of the door before he could cause any more damage, though all he’d ever done was just show his face in these kinds of situations (he would willingly admit that sometimes he had to ask around to actually see if you were going in the first place; if you were, it was a no-brainer, but he had on occasion turned an invite down purely because you were busy).

The entire situation was frustrating him, and the irony in that wasn’t lost on him, especially because when he walked through the door earlier, this wasn’t the outcome he’d ever anticipated. 

Elias moved his hand from his shirt to Brock’s bicep, squeezing to get his attention, “What happened in there?”

Brock blinked, his eyes briefly flickering to Elias’s, purely just to gauge his reaction, before flipping back to you – he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from you since you said The Thing that just about took his breath away and simultaneously gave him oxygen to cure the breathlessness – certain Elias wasn’t too pissed at him, “Noah proposed.” He breathed, able to catch the way Elias’s mouth fell in shock out of the corner of his eye, “And she said no, but it turns out she was gonna end it with him before that.” His mind seemed to run through everything you said, as it had been, your voice playing on loop like a scratchy record player in the back of his mind, and he huffed a conflicted breath. 

It was something to know you returned a fraction of what he felt for you, but it was another thing to know that he was part of the reason you said no. 

Did it make him a homewrecker? A third party? 

Is this the price of his own happiness? The guilt?

“‘Cause of me.” He finished, finally turning back to Elias with knitted brows.

The two of them looked at each other for a few seconds, Elias clearly digesting everything. Quinn was oblivious, yawning off to the side.

“You two never…” Elias trailed off, widening his eyes pointedly, and Brock scoffed, shaking his head.

“Fuck no. You really think either of us would–”

“It’s not your fault, then.” Elias shrugged, ignoring Brock’s words, “It’s neither of your faults, you know that, right?”

Brock breathed. Elias was a pretty cheeky guy, his comments were ruthless but they never had a single ounce of malice, yet there was something about the way he so effortlessly forewent that kind of reaction and chose to reassure Brock that had him nodding, “I think I needed to hear that.”

“Could tell. Thought you were going to shit yoursel–Hi.” Elias coughed and spluttered, his attention no longer on Brock as he fought to change his words before you caught onto what they’d been talking about.

He turned to look at you, accidentally misjudging the distance, because as he turned, his shoulder bumped yours gently, and you instinctively looked up at the contact, both of you just caught for a split second. 

Brock clenched his jaw at your thinly veiled apprehension at having to face him again: you were twisting the rings on your fingers, and you inhaled sharply – awkwardly – when he turned to you.

You’d never done that before with him. 

And Brock was stunned, not because you were literally stealing the air out of his lungs every time he looked at you (you were breathtaking – always were, always had been), but because that was the first time you’d touched and he felt the tingle from where you’d brushed him. The skin under his shirt seemed to burn at it.

You were so magnetic sometimes that it rendered him speechless.

And that was all happening inside him when you were almost instantly turning to Elias, brushing off the contact like nothing had just occurred. Brock felt his hand go to touch the area you’d bumped into, holding onto his bicep with wonder.

When had Elias dropped his hand?

He sucked in a breath, needing the oxygen in his head before he lost it completely. Before he could overthink it, he tilted his head in your direction, the action drawing you from where you’d been lightly conversing with Elias again (since when were you two such good friends?), “I…” He started, suddenly faltering when Elias sent him a sharp look – one so severe that Brock felt Quinn tune back in, “I had a really good time tonight.”

It wasn’t really the time or the place. Not with all the people and not with so little time.

Something seemed to fall on your face, and Brock hated that it was because of him. He hated himself because of it. The way you immediately fixed it – a small falter in character for the sake of everyone else, and you went back to pretending.

“Good, I’m glad.” You nodded, forcing a smile, and he echoed the sentiment.

He felt it drop, though, his face almost morphing into a sorry frown, if that was even a thing. 

“I’ll talk to you later.” He winced at himself, feeling Quinn begin to pull him towards the door this time, Elias quickly jumping in to save the situation and what little confidence Brock had in his social skills. 

It was only when all three of them had made it outside, drowned in complete silence the entire way down the steps to the door of the building, that Quinn bit the bullet, “What was that car crash I just witnessed back there?” He laughed in disbelief, looking between Brock and Elias for an answer.

Brock’s chest was aching too much to reply, so Elias took the liberty of explaining it, a small smile on his face, “That was the beginning of Brock and—”

Quinn’s brows shot up his forehead, almost going missing under his hair, “Shut the front door.” His jaw dropped, turning to Brock for confirmation.

All he got was a tight-lipped line that resembled more of a grimace.

“I mean, I’m happy for you, man, and because I’m your friend, I feel like it’s my responsibility to also point out the fact that she just broke up with her boyfriend of two years.” Quinn seemed rather uncomfortable at throwing the reminder out there into the open, cringing when Brock seemed to glance at the floor, eyes glazed over, “Is she ready for that?”

Brock swallowed, looking to Elias for guidance. Every word Quinn said was true. And when the words were spoken out loud, the entire thing suddenly seemed futile. 

What was he thinking? A person didn’t just get over something like that immediately–Except…

“Actually she broke up with Noah two months ago.” Elias muttered, “Because of Brock.”

Quinn stopped walking, causing the blondes to halt, the three of them crowing the pavement, “Oh.” He breathed, “Shit.”

Elias threw a concerned glance towards Brock at his silence. It never did him good if he was living in his own head, “Noah also proposed and she said no.”

“Double-shit.” 

“Yeah.” Brock answered numbly, head twisting back to your apartment building.

They hadn’t walked far, barely one block, but he could see the window to your apartment, your shadowy figure walking past the window. He inhaled, the exhale fogging up the air around him.

He didn’t have to be looking at Elias and Quinn to know they were sharing similar glances, and he turned back to them, catching their sombre looks red-handed. He shook his head, sighing. He took a step forward, intending to continue their walk to the Uber spot, but something hit him in the chest. It was a gloved hand, and he followed the owner to Elias.

“Yeah?” He asked cautiously.

“You forgot your scarf.” Elias said.

Brock frowned. He didn’t think he’d come wearing a sca–Oh.

He looked to Quinn, who was smiling secretively, and upon noticing his eyes on him nodded his head in the direction of your building.

Brock nodded, turning to Elias once more, “Yeah, I did. You guys don’t have to wait for me, I can get back by myself.”

“Yeah, we know.” Quinn smirked, before gasping as Elias delivered a swift, calculated blow to his diaphragm, knocking the air out of his lungs, and muttering a quiet ‘shut the fuck up’ under his breath as he did so.

Brock ignored them both, already starting the quick walk back up to you, though when he knew he was out of sight from his friends, his brisk walk turned to a hurried run, using the railing on the stairs to launch him up further. By the time reached your door he was breathing heavily, hands a little clammy. 

He took a couple of breaths, running his hands through his hair before knocking on your door.

You were mid-way through clearing the glasses from the coffee table when there was a knock at your door. You stopped where you were, quickly reaching to pause the episode of Gilmore Girls – you weren’t expecting anyone else, and no one had left anything behind.

It could be a neighbour, but they knew to announce themselves–

“It’s Brock.” 

His voice filtered through the door, and the glasses in your hand momentarily slipped, your heart pounding. You threw a cautious glance to the clock above the door: it had barely been five minutes since he left, and honestly, you weren’t even expecting him to ‘talk to you later’. You’d told yourself not to get your hopes up, but either way he’d changed his mind.

This was sooner rather than later – and you were far from prepared. In fact, you were pretty exhausted.

But it was Brock.

You walked over to the door, peering through the peephole to see Brock with pink cheeks and a slightly heaving chest; coat unbuttoned as he put his hands on his hips. His face was tilted away from the door, giving you a full view of his side-profile as his teeth grazed his bottom lip anxiously. 

You stifled a smile, not wasting a second before opening the door, one hand still clutching a  few glasses by their stems. His head snapped to you as you opened the door, a relieved smile automatically making its way onto his face. 

“Sorry, um, I just needed to talk to you.” Brock started, looking at you but clearly struggling with his words. His eyes were bouncing from you to things behind you, nerves eating at him, and you smiled – to ease his mind.

“Sooner rather than later?” You stepped to the side, allowing him to step over the threshold and into your toasty apartment, though with the way he immediately shedded his coat again, he was clearly a little too hot.

But he nodded anyway, draping his coat across the back of the sofa, “I hope that’s okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded, “I’m just gonna put these in the kitchen first, do you want anything to drink?”

“No thanks, not right now.” He muttered, and you nodded, moving into the kitchen and placing the glasses by the sink, before turning around only to see Brock walk into the kitchen carrying bowls and even more glasses and placing them by the sink.

He rolled his sleeves up his forearms, and you could only stare in disbelief as he made himself at home, wandering back into the font room and rearranging the cushions around him, twisting back to you with an impatient look on his face.

“Sorry.” You muttered, making your way back to the sofa and sitting an appropriate distance away from  him. 

The TV was still on, and a few of the candles you’d set up earlier were beginning to fade and flicker, the lighting somewhat romantic. But it was cosy, and you pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa across your lap, offering the other half to Brock, who shook his head.

“I ran up the stairs, so I’m warm enough.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, “But thanks.”

You nodded, not sure what else to say.

It was very rare that either of you didn’t know what to say; awkwardness was never really a term you used to describe your relationship with Brock – it was always pretty natural. There were silences, but only the kind where nothing had to be said. So this was uncharted territory in more ways than one.

You inhaled, biting the bullet, “So, where should I start?”

Brock looked at his lap briefly, picking off a scrap of lint, “’Why didn’t you tell me you guys broke up?”

You tilted your head at him, “Noah was still hanging around for a while, and he said some stuff about you, us, that, had you been there, would have just made the situation worse. If I told you, you’d have probably come over–”

“Yeah.” He pulled a face, “‘Course I would. I wouldn’t have wanted you to be by yourself.”

“I wasn’t. I had Lauren.”

“You could have had me.” He muttered, eyes devastated – not for him, but for you. He didn’t want you to have had to go through it alone, and it killed him that you refused yourself of that extra support, “I would never have tried anything–”

“I know that.”

“I wouldn’t have provoked Noah – I never did, by the way, he just had a random need to…” he stuttered, “The guy had it out for me and I never even did anything.” He sighed, jaw clenching in frustration.

You nodded.

Noah had had it out for Brock; he hadn’t initially, it was something that had developed the longer you’d been together, and it had slowly ended up getting worse. Worse in that you felt like you couldn’t even look at Brock if he was in the room without causing an argument between you and Noah, and that was draining.

But not entirely Noah’s fault, either.

“It wasn’t random.” You confessed, closing your eyes and briefly touching your temple to ease the brewing headache at the conversation. It was the dredging up of little issues that you’d caused, intentionally or not, that it all accumulated to. They weren’t the sole reason for the end, though. 

Brock went quiet, gaze locked on you, chest steadily rising and falling with each breath. You were finding it hard to actually look at him, the pressure of the entire situation beginning to creep upon you.

“What?” He breathed delicately, as though he was afraid he’d misheard you.

You felt like rolling your eyes, but you kept it to yourself, “I told you Noah said some stuff, right?” He nodded, rather breathless, “He said that I’d been leading him on for a while because in the end, it wasn’t him that I wanted to see when I walked through the door. I think it was partly my fault; when we first started going out, he asked about you – something about the way you looked at me – and I told him that we always seemed to miss each other, that you were my ‘what if’, or whatever, but that it didn’t matter because it was him I was dating. That’s why he seemed to have it out for you, because you didn’t have your own girlfriend to ‘distract you’ as he so kindly put it. He thought that if you were single, and still hanging around, that somehow I’d just end up losing interest in him because I really just wanted you.”

He seemed to digest your words a little, and with each second that passed, you felt yourself become more restless, eager for him to say something to kill the little voice in your head telling you that you’d just got it all wrong.

“I mean, in a way, he was right.” You huffed, eyes a little watery but not threatening to turn into tears.

Still silence.

“Okay, so he was right about me, then.” You pulled the blanket further up your lap, refusing to look at him. If you did, you were scared that the watery eyes would turn into the full waterworks, because, as much as you’d initially tried to deny it when you were with Noah, you had always wondered about what would have happened with you and Brock, if anything at all.

He was an easy person to love, and he made you feel important. You’d just started to have a more serious soft spot for him as the years had gone on, but you’d kept out of even stepping there because when you seemed to be single, he’d be in a relationship, and he always seemed happy. 

Who were you to ruin that for him?

“He was right about me too.” 

You swore if you’d have moved even a little faster that you’d have ended up with whiplash with the speed you turned to look at him. You’d imagined this, but it had never seemed realistic.

He seemed unfazed by the way you maintained a neutral disposition, wanting to keep your guard up just in case he said something else.

“Do you remember when we met?” He asked, hesitant, a little timid, but soft nonetheless.

You found yourself nodding, “Elias’s party three years ago.”

“We talked for about an hour, until I got a call from my manager, and when I came back in, you were talking to someone else.” He sniffed, red colouring the tips of his ears as he started to tap the cushion rhythmically, “You looked so happy I didn’t dare to interrupt. What I’m trying to say is that since I got to know you, I’ve been trying to find someone who makes me feel half the things that you make me feel all day, everyday, and even on the days I don’t see you, and I haven’t come close.” He took a breath, the look he fixed you with next stealing the air from your lungs, “I’ve tried telling myself that she was perfect, that I really must be happy…but it doesn’t change anything when the root of the problem is that she’s just not you.”

You shut your mouth, not quite remembering when you jaw dropped, and just looked at him. The way that, even after all you’d said, he still looked a little worried about it all; the way a few strands of his hair had flopped in front of his eyes, but he didn’t seem to care, because you were his centre of attention. The way he was trying to smile at you, but his chin seemed to wobble with doubt. “There’s no one like you, not for me. I haven’t been able to even stomach anyone else since I broke up with her, and you were why I broke up with her. And I swear to God, when I left for New York and you came to say goodbye, I thought you were going to kiss me.”

“I was.” You admitted, unable to help the way your bottom lip wobbled.

He nodded sadly.

“But you’d just broken up with her and I hated the idea of being a rebound.” It was your turn to sniffle, “And then when you came back, you never even brought it up. I took it as you not wanting that with me, and then…” You trailed off.

The story finished itself, really. Then Noah came around. Shook some shit up.

“I didn’t bring it up because it felt wrong talking about it over the phone. I tried texting you, but nothing felt right, and then when we did see each other, someone always interrupted. Then Noah showed up and stuck around.” 

“I don’t regret Noah,” you murmured, Brock catching your eye as he shook his head in agreement, “I really did love him, I just don’t think it was enough for me in the end, and I’m so pissed at myself that it took two years to realise it.”

Brock’s fingers itched to touch you, to release the bottom lip you’d caught between your teeth, to smooth the crease on your forehead. But now wasn’t the time.

His head rang with Elias’s earlier words, “It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault.” He sighed, still fighting to repress the urge to give your hand a reassuring squeeze. He knew what he wanted to say, but the last thing he wanted was to either rub it in your face or have you thinking the wrong thing, “Some people are meant for each other at different points in their life, depending on circumstances or who they are at that time. People change, no one can help that.”

“What about the other people?”

“What do you mean?”

“The other people that change but don’t break up?”

“I think you just answered your own question.”

You sighed, frustrated, “What decides that, though?”

Brock was quiet, mind ticking, “I think if you love someone enough, that even if they do change, it won’t matter. I like to think you adapt to love the changed parts of them, otherwise what would be the point of loving someone?” 

“That’s nice.” You admitted, feeling mildly comforted by his words. They felt sort of like a promise of sorts.

“Can I ask you a question?” Brock asked after a moment's silence. 

You nodded, taking in the timid expression on his face as he ran a hand through his hair, combing back the loose strands. You hadn’t noticed it earlier, but there was a bracelet on his wrist, almost like a knotted piece of tape.

You swallowed, heart pounding. It looked very familiar — almost exactly like the same piece of tape you’d given him ages ago because he felt like he was missing out on a good luck charm.

“If I hadn’t been in the picture, would you still be with Noah?” 

If Brock hadn’t been in the picture…that thought wasn’t a particularly comforting one. In fact, a life without Brock, even in the outskirts, sounded pretty miserable in your opinion. 

However, in regards to his question, the answer was pretty obvious.

“Probably. Maybe, it’s hard to say.” 

His face seemed to fall at that admission, “Sorry.”

You shook your head, smiling softly, “Don’t be, I prefer it. If anything, I think it says that I’d have settled for someone that makes me feel less than what I feel for you, and the idea of that is pretty dull.”

The corners of his mouth lifted, “Pretty dull?”

You shrugged, “At least pretty dull.”

“What now, then?” 

You swallowed, heart hammering wildly against your sternum at the suggestion in his words. You hadn’t ever really expected you’d get this far with Brock – ever. The endless missed opportunities or bad timings felt like an accumulation of signs not to give into your feelings for him, not a ‘bide your time’ kind of thing.

“I need some time before…”

Brock nodded, smiling like he’d expected your answer. In fact, knowing the kind of person he was, it wouldn’t have been a shock at all if he’d even anticipated it.

“That’s fine by me. I’ve waited three years, I can wait a little longer.” He joked, and this time you noticed the way his hand seemed to jump towards you, before he clenched his fist, folding it under his arm to quell the urge, “I do mean it, though. Take all the time you want, I’ll keep my distance–”

The overwhelming surge of panic that seemed to just crash over you at his promise of distance seemed to come over you quickly. You’d just got him in arm’s distance, and now he was about to leave you alone?

“Hopefully not too far.” You interjected, “I mean, I broke up with Noah two months ago, I’ve already had a lot of thinking time.” And at the insensitive bluntness of your hurried words, you added, “I just need to…close that chapter.”

He nodded, jaw clenching as he fought an excited smile. And, almost to distract you both, he turned to point at the TV, “Do you want to press play?”

[bqstqnbruin]

Friendsgiving

Hi so we are going to ignore the fact that it is nearly 2 am but here I am with a fic that I started today because of this tik tok that I saw a few hours ago and I immediately went 'fic'. So, here we are

Warnings: none

WC: 5845

Enjoy!

__________________________________________

“Why and how are you in Vancouver?” 

“Don’t hate me.”

“Oh, my god, did you move to Canada without me? You moved and didn’t even tell me.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at what you hoped was Lena’s unnecessary panic that you heard through your phone speaker, trying to navigate your way through the airport that you had never been to before. “No, I’m just probably doing something stupid.” 

“And you’re doing it without me?”

“Leen, I’ll catch you up later, ok?”

“Am I going to have to make sure you don’t end up in a ditch?”

“You should probably watch my location for the next few days,” you say, in all seriousness. “But I have to go, I love you, bye.”

You hang up on your best friend as you hear her screaming on the other end about calling the authorities, knowing that she wouldn’t actually do that. Actually, she might. But you can’t think about that right now.

You were trying to find Brock, despite the fact that you had never met him in person and stupidly agreed to fly to Vancouver on a day's notice from your home the week of Thanksgiving. 

You couldn’t believe the last couple of days of your life. You had posted a silly photo of you and your friends at your annual Friendsgiving. You always got together the Friday before, and had been doing so since middle school when your parents still had to either make the food for you, or had to be in the kitchen with you heavily supervising the entire time. This year was the 15th year in a row that you had all gotten together, celebrating in a much bigger fashion than you had in years past; you all dressed up, you all brought the food in the best serving dishes you had instead of the Dollar Tree tin dishes you all normally brought, you had the fanciest bottles of wine you could afford littering the table, and you had even all planned to stay over together for the first time, continuing the event into the morning. 

Brock had messaged you because of the photo. You were mutuals, having some of the same friends in college but never actually interacted with each other. 

All of your friends talked about how you two would get along so well, but it seemed like every time you were supposed to meet, something happened that prevented you from doing so. There was the one party you were supposed to go to with your friends, that you had been planning on going to all week until you got food poisoning from the dining hall. There was the class you were supposed to take together until his practice times got changed and ended up conflicting with the class. You were supposed to go to a formal together as each other's dates until he slept through his alarm and missed the bus to the venue.

You were always supposed to meet, until you didn’t.

But then you got the message from him a few days ago asking if you wanted to come to his Friendsgiving that he was going to with his American teammates. 

It was easily the craziest thing you had done in your life, saying yes to flying out to Vancouver the next day to meet a guy you had never actually met in person, or really talked to before those messages.

It made you realize you really hadn’t done much with your life. 

You walked through the airport, trying to see if you could find the guy you would be spending the next couple of days with by the baggage claim where he told you he would meet you. 

You finally see him, the blonde head of hair sticking out to you for an unknown reason. 

You knew from his pictures on his account that he was attractive, but, shit, he was gorgeous in person. 

He was also dressed up way more than he should be for someone to be waiting for a stranger in an airport; he was in a full suit and tie, his hair looking like he had just gotten out of the shower and styled it immediately. 

“Hi,” he says to you when he sees you, a smile on his face making your heart skip a beat. 

You didn’t even know this guy. “Hi,” you manage to get out as he pulls you in for a hug. “You look good, all dressed up.” 

Brock reaches for your bag, taking it off your shoulder and walking you out of the airport. “Thanks.”

“Why are you dressed up?”

“We’re on our way to the game.”

“We?”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“Do I look like I’m dressed for a hockey game?”

Brock looks at you as the two of you approach his car, opening his trunk to put your bag in. “You look great to me.”

“I’m in sweats, fresh off a plane. When do you think you told me?”

“Uh,” he lets out as you get in his car. “Yesterday?”

You take out your phone, scrolling through the messages the two of you exchanged. “You told me you had a game, not that I was going to one.” 

“Who did I tell that to yesterday?” he says, staring out through his front windshield, wracking his brain. You couldn’t help but laugh. “I can take you back to my place, if you want.”

“Would that make you late for the game?”

He glances at the clock, pulling out his phone. “Very late, yes.” 

You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile that you couldn’t help. “I’ll go to the game. I’m sure I have something I can change into stuffed in my bag.” 

The two of you fall into easy conversation, much like you had when he first reached out to you. There was something about him that was easy to talk to. 

He pulls up to the arena, still talking about one of the parties you were both supposed to go to in college.

“Do you remember that one kid, Chris, who somehow threw up at every party he went to?” he asks you, leaning against his car as you rifle through your bag in his trunk, searching for any semblance of an outfit that was better than the sweats you were currently in.  

“Hold on,” you tell him, climbing into the trunk and pulling the hatch closed, trying your best to change in the cramped space. You managed to find jeans and a black shirt that could pass as a non-airport outfit that you were smart enough to pack as a spare since Brock didn’t really give you a ton of information as to how the week was going to go. You could see him standing outside the car, dumbfounded by the abrupt nature of you practically commandeering his car as a changing room for yourself. “Ok, I’m good,” you say, opening the door back up in what you were sure was record time for changing in a car trunk.

“Wow,” he says, you noticing the slightest shade of red appearing on his cheeks. 

“Better?” you ask. Your foot catches on part of the trunk as you try to get out, practically falling out of his car. 

You feel Brock’s hands catch you, spreading across your back and under your legs. “Much,” he says, his face inches from yours. He clears his throat, his face turning bright red as he puts you down.

He wasn’t about to kiss you, was he? And why would you have been ok if he did that? “Thanks for that,” you tell him, embarrassment seeping into your voice. 

“So, uh, Chris?” he asks, walking you into the arena with his hands now firming shoved into his pockets.

“He really did somehow end up in the bathroom at every party.”

“Even if he didn’t have anything to drink that night.” 

“I wonder what he’s up to now?”

“He just got engaged, actually,” you tell him. “His fiance was one of my lab partners back in college.” 

“Wow. Never would have known that,” he tells you. The two of you walk through what you could only describe as the tunnels of the arena, Brock showing you around and trying to explain to you what everything was. 

“You’re gonna be in here,” he tells you, showing to a room that was filled with women and children who all seemed to know each other. Before you can ask anything, he checks his watch, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. “Shit, I’ve gotta get ready. I’ll meet you right here after the game.” 

Brock runs off, leaving you standing at the entrance to this room that you could see was at ice level, filled with people you didn’t know. 

You couldn’t enter the room. This was already ridiculous, you being here in the first place with a guy you just met for the first time in person less than an hour before. Now you were apparently supposed to go into this room with a bunch of people and do what? Talk to them? 

No thank you.

You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, leaning against the wall next to the entrance of this room as Lena calls you again. “Ok, you did not fly all the way to Vancouver to see a Canucks game.”

“I’m going to stop sharing my location with you,” you laugh.

“Ok, spill, why the hell are you in Vancouver?”

You recount the whole string of events to her, realizing how ridiculous the whole situation sounded now that you were actually verbally articulating everything. “And now, I’m outside of this room with a bunch of women and I think this is where I’m supposed to be for the rest of the game.”

“Are you in the WAG room?”

“The what?”

“The WAG room.”

“No, I heard you,” you sigh, “What does that mean?”

“The wives and girlfriends.”

You stare at the wall on the other side of the hallway as people you ignored scurried around you. “But I’m not a wife or a girlfriend?”

“Well, as long as you have that established. I heard there’s supposed to be amazing food in those rooms for the families.” 

You peek your head into the room, seeing a line of the women forming on the other side of the room in front of what looked like an incredible spread of food. “I can see that.”

“Go in!” Lena shrieks in your ear. “Have fun, make friends, and bring me some food when you get back.” She hangs up before you can say anything else, leaving you there with your phone pressed against your ear and no one on the other end of the call. 

You finally work up the courage to go into the room, trying to slip in and stay in the back, out of the way of anyone who would feel the need to come to talk to you. You stay along the wall closest to the door, trying to take in the room around you. There were children seemingly everywhere, running and shrieking as they played with each other. Toys were scattered all over the floor, bags lined against the wall. You probably looked like a freak the way you were moving through the room, trying to find a seat that you could sink into and become invisible in.

“Shit,” you let out, slamming down onto the floor, tripping over one of the toys you were somehow too busy to notice. 

“Are you ok?” one of the women asks you, crouching down on the floor to meet you at what was now, embarrassingly, eye level. 

You could feel your face getting hot. “Other than my ego being bruised, I think I’m good.” 

“I haven’t seen you before,” she says to you. “I’m Lexie. I’m Thatcher’s wife.”

You had no idea who Thatcher was, but it probably wouldn’t look good for you if you admitted that. 

You introduce yourself, finally getting up off the floor and dusting yourself off. “I’m here with Brock.”

Lexie’s eyes light up with excitement. “You must be Brock’s mystery girl.” The room seems to go silent when Lexie practically shrieks that, even the children making no noise. “He had been telling us he was seeing someone, but we never thought he would bring you to a game early.”

“Oh, I,” you start, getting nervous now that all eyes were on you. You had no idea what he had told these women, or their husbands, or boyfriends, or whoever these people were. “Here I am.”

“I can’t believe Brock would just throw you to the wolves like this,” Lexie says, linking her arm with yours and walking you over to the food table.

“Are you kidding?” another one of the women chimes in. “This is exactly something Brock would do. I’m Natalie, by the way, J.T.’s wife.”

The two women start chatting your ear off, you unable to comprehend what they were saying. Brock had a ‘mystery girl,’ that you had now taken on the identity of. Brock was probably seeing someone who couldn’t be there this week and now he was going to look like an awful human when you suddenly disappeared and were replaced with another person next week. 

But, why did you care? You barely knew Brock.

You had no idea how much time passed by when they all start filtering out the seats near the ice, the players skating around in circles. 

You join them, unsure what else to do. You pull out your phone, getting an idea and starting to type in a new note, trying to wave Brock over to the boards when you finally get his attention.

They think I’m your ‘mystery girl??? you show him with your phone screen pressed against the glass when he comes over. The color seems to drain from his face, mouthing ‘I’m sorry,’ and shrugging way too casually for your liking before practically sprinting away from you to the other side of the rink. 

You head back into the room, beelining for the exit and pulling up Lena’s number.

“Brock told everyone he and I are dating?” you try not to scream too loudly, hoping that none of the people in the room or in the hallway 

“Oh,” Lena says. “That’s not great.”

“Not great?” you say, running your hand through your hair, feeling yourself panic. “This is crazy. What if this turns into a psycho killer situation?’

“He’s way too high profile in the area to get away with killing you.”

“That’s not reassuring.” 

“I’m just saying he wouldn’t get away with it.”

“Adelena,” you stomp your foot like a child out of frustration, using your friend's full name.

“Ok, calm down,” she says. “There’s no need for the government name here. I think you just need to talk to him after the game and figure out what’s going on. I will fly out there and save you if I have to.” 

You take in a deep breath. This was the dumbest thing you could have done, regret seeping into you with every passing moment that you spent in Vancouver. “I’ll let you know.” You go back in the room, trying to pay attention to the game as the people around you milled about, trying to get to know you and about your ‘relationship’ with Brock.

“How long have you two been going out?” Lexie asks eagerly. 

“Um,” you panic, “Not that long, honestly. This is all really new.” That wasn’t a total lie.

“How did you two even meet?”

“We went to college together.” 

Before Lexie could ask you another question that you probably didn’t have an answer to, a toddler runs up to her, crying. “Gotta go,” she says to you, lifting the toddler and trying to comfort them. 

You sat and tried to watch the rest of the game, writing down everything you told Lexie in hopes that Brock would have said something similar. You spent the rest of the game on your phone texting with Lena, thankful that no one else in the room came up to you to talk to you or ask questions the way Lexie had, only going back to the ice and looking up from your screen to see Brock scoring.

You wait outside the room for Brock once the game was over, his teammates coming out much faster than he was as the hallway and the room behind you slowly emptied out, leaving you alone in the hallway. 

“What the fuck,” you ask him when you finally see him. 

“I’m sorry, I know,” he tells you, walking out to his car. 

“I don’t care if you need me to pretend to date you, but I would have liked to know about it before you threw me into the Gossip Grotto.” 

Brock exhales when he gets into the car, resting his head against the steering wheel while you stared at him with your arms crossed in front of you. “The guys keep bugging me about not dating anyone so I told them I was seeing someone to get them to shut up.” 

“And you didn’t think that was relevant to mention when you invited me here that there was a good chance they would think I’m the girl you’re dating?”

“No. I figured they would have forgotten about it by now.” 

“Well, their wives didn’t.”

“So what do we do?”

You stare at him. “I could leave on the next flight and get out of here and probably be mad at you forever. Or, we pretend we’re together.”

He whips his head to you, his eyes crazy with shock. “What?”

You shrug, pulling out your phone and showing him the notes you made during the game about you and him being together. “We fake date. I’m only here until Wednesday, and you said we were only going to be seeing your friends on Tuesday night. We have plenty of time to figure this out.”

“We have a day and a half.” 

You scoff. “You think I haven’t figured out more complicated things in less time? I got a plane ticket and got myself here on twelve hours notice.”

“So, we fake date?”

“We fake date.” 

_____________________________

“What are you doing?” you ask, walking into Brock’s kitchen the next morning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You spent the night in his guest room, sleeping in what was probably the most comfortable bed you had ever slept in. You spent the night before starting to hash out the story you would tell his teammates and their partners, agreeing that you would only share information about the two of you if you were directly asked about it. 

“Debating whether or not to make us breakfast,” he tells you, one hand on his hip, the other holding open the fridge door. Brock had on no socks, boxer shorts and a t-shirt, all of which showed off to you just how unfair his entire physique was. His hair was messy in a somehow perfect way that would have made you drool under any other context. You could pretend to drool over him, but real drooling was out of the question right now. 

“What’s the other option?”

He closes the fridge door, turning to face you. “I don’t make breakfast and we go out for food instead.” 

“How good are you at making breakfast?”

“I make a mean bowl of cereal.” 

“We’re going out for breakfast, get dressed.” 

“Wow, my girlfriend is bossy,” he smirks as you walk away, looking over your shoulder at him and sticking your tongue out.

Was that too flirty? You had agreed last night that flirting was ok so you could ‘get used to it.’ How could you flirt in front of other people if you had never done it before? 

You call Lena while you were getting ready. 

“You could just real date him,” you hear her suggest, crunching on something on the other end of the line.

“You could just give me real advice and not chew on something in my ear.” 

“It’s morning, let me eat my apple,” Lena says, obviously with her mouth full. “What are you guys doing today?”

“Right now, getting ready for breakfast. Beyond that, watch my location.”

“Yeah, I have no job. I can just stalk you all day.”

“If I end up dead how are you going to know?”

“Ugh, fine,” she sighs. “Have fun, don’t die.”

She hangs up, leaving you alone to get dressed for a day you didn’t know the details of. You pull on leggings and a sweater, your sneakers on and grabbed a jacket that you didn’t even know if you needed. You head back out to Brock’s kitchen, finding him leaning against the counter on his phone.

“You need to change,” you tell him. He had on black jeans and the same color sweater as you. 

“This could be a cute couple thing,” he jokes. “We could take a picture together and post it, or something.” You hesitate, walking over to Brock as he extends his hand with his camera open. “At least pretend to like me,” he tells you, plastering a smile on his face as he starts taking photo after photo.

You rest your hand on his chest, leaning into him and smiling at his camera. You did look good together, if you had to admit. 

“Can you do one where you kiss my cheek?’

“What?”

“Don’t couples do that?’

You stare at him for a second. Would it be weird to do that? He asked you to do it. “I normally scroll past those photos.”

“Me, too.” The two of you stand in silence for a second, neither of you sure how to go on. “Maybe we don’t do that. Too much, too soon.” You nod in agreement.

“So, where are we going?”

Brock smiles at you, leading you out the door. 

_____________________________

The breakfast he took you to was amazing. He said that he had an entire day for you planned as a thank you for coming out here in the first place. 

“How are you with hiking?”

“It depends.”

“On?”

“How long the trail is.”

Brock laughs, putting his car in park in front of a water front. 

“If we don’t stop, it’ll take two hours.” 

“That seems like a long time.”

“That’s how long my games are.”

“Yeah, that was a long time,” you tease him, getting out of the car. 

The trail was beautiful, a breeze off the water cooling you down as you walked alongside Brock. This could easily have been a real date if the two of you were actually together. 

You shake your head slightly of the thought. This was just supposed to be you helping him out, even though that wasn’t the original purpose of your trip. “So what are you supposed to do for Friendsgiving tomorrow night?”

Brock stops walking, the person behind him nearly knocking into him as he scolds Brock for stopping in the middle of the trail. You pull him over to the side of the walkway, ignoring the spark that you swore ran through you as laced your fingers in his. 

“I have no idea, actually.” 

“So you’re off to a great start.”

“I think I was told to bring something in the group chat,” he says, using his free hand to pull out his phone and start scrolling through the message thread that seemed to go on forever, your hands still intertwined. You weren’t sure he even noticed at this point, but part of you didn’t want to be the one to break the connection between you. “Ah, mac and cheese.”

“Have you ever made homemade mac and cheese before?”

“It has to be homemade?”

You roll your eyes, starting to walk again with your hands still locked together. “Did you think it would just magically spawn in front of you once you got to Quinn’s place?”

“I only have boxes of the store brand of mac and cheese.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, pulling out your phone and finding the recipe you make for yourself when you have motivation. “Can you use Quinn’s oven when you get there or will he not have space?”

He quickly types on his phone as the two of you keep walking. “Yeah, we can as long as it doesn’t take too long,” he tells you, showing you the message from Quinn.

You nod, scrolling to the recipe on the website. “What do you have from these ingredients?” 

Brock quickly scans the list, nodding along and mouthing each component to himself. “I have the flour, salt, and pepper.”

“So you were supposed to be making mac and cheese and you had neither the mac nor the cheese?”

“That would be correct.”

“Oh my god,” you groan again. Brock stops walking, pulling you off to the side of the trail again. “What?” Brock gestures to the water in front of you, the sun making the ripples shine, the sky absolutely pristine. “Wow,” you let out. 

“What do you think?” you hear him ask, not taking your attention away from the sight in front of you.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” You look over at him, seeing him tuck his phone away into his pocket, his eyes on you instead of the view. 

_____________________________

“Why was getting all of this way harder than I thought it would be?” Brock asks, putting the bags of groceries on the counter.

“Because you had no idea where anything in the store was and we had to keep doubling back for things we missed the first time.”

“You really have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“We’re dating, isn’t that something you’re supposed to know?”

Brock laughs, pulling out pans and bowls from his cabinets as you start to get everything prepared for the mac and cheese. You tell him what to do, giving him step-by-step instructions.

“This is nice,” he tells you. 

You think for a moment, shredding the cheese into a bowl. The recipe called for more cheese than any recipe you had ever made before, and somehow the mountain of cheese in front of you still didn’t feel like enough. “It is.”

“My mom and dad used to cook like this,” he tells you, his voice somber as he comes up behind you. 

“Yeah?”

“She would tell him what to do and he would do it. Badly, but he would try his best.” You laugh along with him. He had told you that his father had passed away a couple of years ago, but you didn’t know anything else about him other than what she could find with a quick google search that now, in a weird way, felt like an invasion of privacy. “We could always tell which things Dad helped with because they tasted just a little off.” 

“You miss him, don’t you?” you say, slowing down your shredding and turning towards him. He was facing you again, his arm around you but not touching you, resting on the counter on the other side of you. 

“Always.”

You swore he was going to lean in, his eyes flickering down to your lips. You clear your throat, turning back to the cheese. “You should check the pasta to see if it’s almost done or not.”

Brock nods, smiling and winking at you before doing what he was told.

_____________________________

“This is all fake.”

“And?”

“It doesn’t feel fake.” 

“Well, you aren’t a great actress, are you?”

“Lena,” you whine. 

“I saw you try out for The Little Mermaid in middle school.” 

You had texted her once the mac and cheese was done and you were back in what Brock now referred to as ‘your room,’ panicking that he had almost kissed you again. What if you were just reading into things? You felt stupid to think that he was doing anything more than pretending for the sake of getting used to things for tomorrow, right?

“Is there a chance for this to turn into something not fake?”

“Considering he lives in a different country, unless you want me to actually move to Canada without you, no.” 

“Do you want it to be something that isn’t fake?”

You hesitate, knowing that Lena had a stupid smirk on her face that would turn into some sort of ‘I told you so,’ later in the conversation. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.”

You sigh. “He’s great, but I’ve known him for two days. You don’t fall for someone like that in two days, it’s absurd.”

“Jack and Rose did in Titanic.”

“And that’s fiction, not real life.”

“Ok, if you had more than two days, then what?” 

“Then, I don’t know. Maybe?” 

“So, what do you do about it?”

“What can I do, Leen?” You flop down on the bed. “I’m here for less than two days before I leave and probably never talk to him again. The best this can be is fake.” 

_____________________________

“Are you ready for this?” Brock asks you, handing you one of the trays of food you made. “No.”

He smiles at you. “Me neither.” 

You head towards the door of Quinn’s place, ready to be as overwhelmed with the people you were about to encounter as you were two days prior at the game, even if you had already met most of these people. 

Lexie is the first one to greet you, somehow, through the chaos of everyone else around you. She leads the two of you into the kitchen, even though Brock already knows his way around. “I’m stealing her,” she tells Brock, grabbing you by the hand and leading you off to another room while all the guys stand around the kitchen island, somehow the ones in charge of the food.

“It is so good to see Brock so happy,” she tells you, handing you a glass of wine as she poured one for herself. The two of you were alone in the room she pulled you into, leaving you amazed that with that many people in the house, there was even an empty room to begin with. “I mean, those photos he posted of you? You are the most photogenic person I have ever seen.”

“Uh, yeah,” you tell her, knowing that you have to stop stammering everytime you try to give someone an answer. 

“You don’t know about the pictures?” You shake your head. She prompts you to pull up Brock’s page, the most recent pictures one from yesterday.

You scroll through the carousel. The first one, as you saw, was the one of you two before you went out for the day. The second one was one of you in the airport, looking for him. You thought you looked awful, but somehow, he made you look good. The third from the game the other night, one of the photographers probably captured a photo after he scored of him looking at you and smiling at him before he heads to the bench. The fourth and fifth were ones you had no idea he took; when you were looking out at the water yesterday, smiling at the sight while your hair somehow perfectly framed your face, and while you were hunched over the cheese, grating too many cups of the stuff for today. 

“He’s in deep,” Lexie smirks, drinking her wine. 

You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you looked at the photos, which he captioned, Thankful for you, with your handle tagged. 

“Now it makes sense why I’m getting so many notifications,” you joke, setting your glass down on the table in front of you. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go find the bathroom.” 

You head back towards the kitchen, hoping to find Brock there. 

“I’m surprised you actually are dating someone,” you hear someone’s voice in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Brock responds.

“I thought you made her up,” another voice agrees with the first. 

“I’m not Quinn, I wouldn’t do that,” Brock lies.

“That was one time when I was in sixth grade,” the first voice argues.

You hear Brock laugh, your heart fluttering at the sound, immediately hating yourself for that. You’ve known him for a few days, why did you have to remind yourself about that?

“How long have you guys even been together?” Your heart stops,hoping Brock remembered all the things they talked about the last few days. She knew what he should say, but that didn’t mean he would say it.

“Only about two months, I think.” 

“You think?”

“Petey, you know he’s not good with time.” 

You finally work up the nerve to walk into the room, seeing Brock’s face light up at the sight of you. 

He was faking it. 

“Hey, babe,” he says, pulling you close and kissing the side of your head. 

“God, you two aren’t going to be the kind of couple who overdo the PDA, are you?” Petey asks.

“Only if you piss us off,” Brock says, not taking his eyes off you. 

“So, um,” you say, coming back to reality and turning to the other two. “Everything looks great.” 

Quinn looks at the clock on the oven. “We should probably eat soon. The food should be in a couple of minutes.”

“We’ll get everything on the table,” Brock volunteers the two of you, grabbing one of the plates and handing them to you.

“Everything is going well, so far, I think,” you whisper to him once you’re out of earshot of the others. 

“Everyone thinks we’re actually together. I think we might pull it off.” 

_____________________________

The rest of the night went surprisingly well, the attention largely kept off the two of you most of the time as the team seemed to be more interested in teasing each other while their partners rolled their eyes at the guys’ antics. Brock drove you back in silence, a smile on his face the entire time. 

You headed to bed, knowing that you were going to be leaving when you woke up the next morning, part of you dreading the moment Brock would drop you off at the airport. 

He pulled up to the terminal, neither of you moving once he put the car in park.��

“Can I admit something?” he asks. 

“Sure.”

“I don’t think I want you to leave.” 

You look at him. “I don’t really want to leave.”

“But,” he starts.

“I have to.” 

Brock gets out of the car before you could say anything else, heading to grab your bag from his trunk. 

“We were good at fake dating, though,” he says, handing you your bag. 

You nod as he pulls you in for a hug. “Was all of it fake?” You don’t know what compelled you to ask that, other than you not thinking before you speak.

Brock smiles, his arms still wrapped around you. Before you can fully process it, his lips find yours, a sweet, slow kiss as your lips moved together, his hand on the small of your back pressing you into him. 

“No.” 

[laurenairay]

Carving pumpkins - B. Boeser

Summary: it’s your first Halloween with Brock and you want to do something fun to mark the occasion.

The tenth and final of my Autumn & Halloween blurbs! Ending on a high note with this ball of sunshine (with a fun bonus at the end!)

Word Count: 473 words.

Tagging: @fallinallincurls @starshine-hockey-girl @lam-ila @kurlyteuvo @tonyspep

@cixrosie

~

“Are you busy today babe?”

Brock looked up from where he was putting lunch together, face instantly warming with a smile.

“No, just whatever we’re doing today,” he said simply.

Perfect, just what you wanted to hear.

“Do you think, maybe, after we’ve finished eating we could pick up a couple of pumpkins?” you asked hopefully.

“Pumpkins? Uh, sure, why not?” he mused.

You could tell he was humouring you so you figured it was probably best to get your thoughts out in the open.

“I thought it would be nice to carve pumpkins together. For our first Halloween. I know it’s dumb but it could be fun,” you admitted.

Brock’s smile faded a bit, and he quickly shook his head. “It’s not dumb. Not even a little bit. And it’ll definitely be fun!”

“Yeah? You don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind at all. I can’t remember the last time I carved a pumpkin. Can’t always guarantee I’ll be around, you know? And I hate the thought of coming back from a roadtrip to something rotting on my front porch,” he said, grimacing slightly at the end.

Okay yeah he had a point there. And it only made you more determined.

“Lunch, then pumpkin shopping, and then pumpkin carving. Let’s do this,” you grinned.

~

“I’m not going to lie, the guts are way more slimy than I thought they’d be,” Brock said, pulling a face that made you laugh.

“I’ll separate the slimy stringy bits from the seeds later – roasted pumpkin seeds are such a good snack,” you mused.

“You have the best ideas,” Brock grinned.

You felt you heart flutter as he leaned forward and pecked your lips in a kiss, trying to keep the heat from rushing to your cheeks. Even after all these months, the way he handed out compliments like that still affected you so much each time. Not that you were complaining, not really.

“Do you know what you’re going to carve?” you asked, wiping your hands clean and dry on the dish towel you’d brought over.

“Hm, something easy? I was thinking something like Jack Skellington from Nightmare before Christmas?” Brock suggested.

“That’s such a good idea!” you grinned.

“Not too simple?” he said, wincing slightly.

“No, not at all. It’ll look really effective with a candle in too,” you nodded, smiling.

Brock smiled warmly back at you, pecking your lips in another kiss before leaning back to pick up a small pumpkin carving knife.

“I can do this. I can totally do this,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

“I believe you,” you teased.

“Laugh all you want baby, when these turn out amazing I am absolutely showing these off to the team. Maybe even Instagram,” he shrugged, unperturbed.

“Well damn, I’d better come up with a good design myself then,” you mused.

Brock just laughed.

~

[fallinallincurls]

in picture frames, in all my dreams, you’re the one i want

this is my entry for @wyattjohnston 's winter fic exchange 2k24!! i wrote this fic for the lovely @laurenairay and i hope you love it so much! i had the best time writing this one (which means there will probably be more brock fics in the future). and shoutout to @tonyspep for bouncing ideas around with me as always!

i also made a playlist for this fic as well if you'd like to check it out!

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 3.8k+

~~~~~

This was not supposed to happen. You were supposed to be on a plane back to Minnesota right now so you would be home in time for Christmas. But when you arrived at the airport earlier, the board of departures were full of canceled flights including yours. And when you brought your dilemma to the customer service desk, they informed you that all flights out of Vancouver were either booked or canceled through the 26th. The day after Christmas.

That’s how you ended up where you are now. Frantically knocking on your best friend’s front door and trying to hold back the overwhelming urge to cry.

“Come on, come on, come on.” You mutter to yourself, knocking one more time in hopes that the one person you want to see right now will answer.

At that very moment, the door swings open to reveal a cozy but sleepy looking Brock. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweats with an old Canucks t-shirt. His blonde hair is tousled but still somehow looks perfect and his blue eyes light up at the sight of you. You love seeing him like this, so soft and relaxed. The Brock that the media and fans don’t know, but you do. 

“Uh, hi. Again.” You say quietly while offering a watery smile.

“Y/N?” Brock asks, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. You don’t blame him, it is only six in the morning. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you going home today?”

“Well yeah, but the insane snow storm had other plans. My flight was canceled and I can’t get anything until after Christmas. So I’m kind of stuck here.”

“A week of me wasn’t enough for you?” He teases, that familiar smile brightening up his face. You just shrug in response, your lips just barely tipping up at his playfulness.

Without saying another word, Brock pulls you into his arms for the tightest hug. It takes everything in you not to sob against his sturdy chest as the warmth and comfort he always carries surrounds you.

“I’m going to miss Christmas.” The terrifying admission tumbles from your lips as tears start falling. You’ve never missed a Christmas at home with your family and you can’t imagine spending the magical day stranded halfway across the continent. 

“No, you’re not.” Brock murmurs, smoothing your hair down as he holds you. The small gesture immediately makes you feel more at ease. It’s something only he knows that will help calm you down when you’re upset. Before you protest, Brock makes a split second decision. “You’re going to spend Christmas here, with me. We’re going to celebrate Christmas together. And you can stay here since all the hotels are probably booked or mad expensive, it’s just easier.”

It takes a moment for Brock’s words to register in your mind, but when they do, your heart swells. Of course he would welcome you in for a holiday that you weren’t supposed to spend with him. He would do anything for you and he’s been that way since you were kids. But right now, you’re more grateful than ever for his kindness.

“Are you sure? I was only supposed to visit you for a week.” You ask faintly, voicing the only worry that surfaced at his suggestion. 

When the University of Minnesota, the school that you’re currently a professor at, announced the dates of winter break, you immediately booked a flight out to Vancouver to spend some much needed time with your best friend. It’s tough to see Brock during the season because classes are also in session and schedules almost never line up. But you weren’t letting this opportunity pass by. The past week has been spent catching up and doing everything that was physically possible together. You couldn’t have been happier you made the trip until the debacle this morning put a damper on the unbelievable happiness you’ve been feeling since you arrived in Vancouver. 

“And the weather said a week wasn’t long enough.” Brock says, his tone of voice telling you there was no room for arguments. “I won’t let you spend Christmas alone so we’re doing this, okay? Plus, I don’t think Coolie and Milo will mind having you around for a few more days. You know how much they love you.”

“The dogs aren’t the only ones who love me.” Brock smiles at your playful comment and can’t help but chuckle at the truth of the oblivious statement. The full extent of his feelings for you that he’s been hiding for years is unknown to everyone but himself. And maybe Quinn and Petey. But he won’t admit how he feels about you until he knows the moment’s right, until maybe there’s a chance you feel the same way.

So he shrugs nonchalantly and lets a laugh slip past his lips while ignoring the way his heart races just from looking at you. Before he can say anything in response, you’re surging forward to hug him again.

“Thank you so much, really. It means the world to me. You have no idea.”

“You know I’d do anything for you.” Brock admits, honesty seeping through each word. “Besides, spending Christmas with you just made my holiday a lot more exciting.” 

“Please,” You roll your eyes in response, but the softest smile blossoms across your lips and the insane amount of anxiety that was consuming you a few minutes ago has already started to dissipate.

“C’mon,” Brock starts, pulling you through the door and over the threshold of his apartment. “You’re probably exhausted so let’s get you a nap and we’ll go from there.”

There’s no resistance as he leads you to his bedroom, hands you one of his t-shirts and tells you it’ll all be okay. Before you know it, you’re under the blankets, wrapped up in the warmth and coziness of Brock’s bed, drifting off to a much needed sleep.

When you wake up a few hours later, well rested and feeling much better, you find yourself squished between two large dogs. A giggle slips past your lips at the sight.

“Hey guys!” You exclaim, not wasting a second to give both Coolie and Milo some pets. “Lucky you, I’ll be here for a couple more days which means you’ll get plenty of extra snacks.”

“No, they won’t!” Brock calls from somewhere in the apartment, making a laugh bubble up in your throat. Even if your Christmas isn’t going to go as you had planned, you’re glad that you’ll be spending it with your favorite person in the world. 

The dogs race ahead of you to find Brock as you start making your way down the hallway. Although you’ve spent a decent amount of time in Brock’s apartment over your weeklong visit, you take a few extra seconds to look over the collection of pictures he has hanging on the wall throughout the hallway. Photos of him with his family, smiling with teammates, namely Petey and Quinn who you know have become his best friends, views from his many trips to different places around the world and of course, snapshots of you and him together. 

A smile blossoms on your face as you look over the memories frozen in time in each photo, laughing to yourself at the ridiculous ones Brock has hanging up that feature his teammates and you. But just before you’re about to head down the stairs to find him, one picture catches your eye. You don’t know how you missed it over the last week, but you must have.

Because staring back at you are little versions of you and Brock, flashing big, beaming grins at the camera in front of the sign to the summer camp you both attended for years. That’s how the two of you met and you remember looking forward to the summer just because it meant seeing and spending time with Brock. Even though you both lived in Minnesota, it wasn’t until you were older that you were able to communicate outside penpal letters sent in the mail and the ninety days you spent together on the campground where you both formed memories that will last a lifetime.

You couldn’t have been more than seven in the photo and it’s clear that both of you are happier than ever. That feeling is still present today whenever you’re with Brock, it’s nestled deep within your heart like it belongs there forever and you’ve carried it around for most of your life. It only took you years after he already had moved to Vancouver to realize that happiness can often be mistaken for love. 

Shoving those thoughts away, you bound down the stairs to meet your best friend again. There’s a new pep in your step as you’re determined to make the most of every second this Christmas even if it’s not what you expected. You’re here with Brock which is all you could ask for.

A gentle smile is already on your lips when you get to the bottom floor, but you halt almost immediately when you see the scene in front of you. Coolie and Milo are wearing the cutest doggie holiday sweaters and Brock is softly grinning while leaning against the kitchen counter which is full of a wide variety of baking ingredients. And when your eyes look over the living room, you notice a box labeled “ornaments” sitting atop the coffee table, undoubtedly full of all of the beautiful ornaments that were carefully hanging from the branches of Brock’s Christmas tree just hours ago. 

“What is-”

“I told you we were celebrating Christmas and we’re going to do it the right way.” Brock simply explains, blue eyes twinkling with joy and you see a flicker of nervousness there too. Like he isn’t sure if you like the gesture.

“Brock,” You breathe out, his name just above a whisper. 

“I know you love decorating the tree on Christmas Eve so I just took down the ornaments so we can do it together. And your family always bakes cookies the night before Christmas too and I surprisingly already had most of what we needed for the recipes.”

There aren’t enough words to properly show the gratitude, the love, that’s swelling in your chest so you just cross the room and wrap your arms around him in the tightest embrace. Brock immediately responds, pulling you even closer to him, and for a moment everything feels right. 

“Thank you,” The words are quiet, but Brock hears them and presses a delicate kiss to the top of your head. You pray he doesn’t feel the way your heart skips a beat at the sweet action and he must not because he pulls away with a big smile and a hint of mischief mixed with something else you can’t quite place evident in his eyes.

“Of course, you deserve nothing less. What do you want to do first?” He asks, ready to jump into either activity. But it’s right then that everything clicks.

“Wait, you went out in the snow to get the rest of the ingredients we needed?”

“Well, yeah, it’s not too bad. Compared to the snow we used to get at home, this is like nothing.”

“But it’s cold! And how did you get the recipes for my favorite Christmas cookies without-” You trail off, the realization setting in at the same moment Brock speaks up to confirm your suspicions.

“I called your mom. She was more than happy to share the recipes with me when I explained what I was up to. That was the easiest part actually!” 

If you weren’t already head over heels in love with him already, this moment would’ve sealed the deal. You can’t believe he went through all this trouble just to make the holiday special when you weren’t even supposed to be here in the first place. Nothing but adoration rushes through your veins and you can feel the blush creeping into your cheeks. Without hesitating, you lean up to kiss his cheek as yet another silent thank you and his skin almost immediately turns pink. 

“Alright, let’s do this, yeah?” He asks, distracting you from his reaction to the little gesture the two of you have been doing since you were younger and pulling you into the kitchen. It doesn’t take long for Christmas music to be turned on, filling the air with even more of a festive feeling. Brock makes sure your apron is tied on, just like you do for his, and then you’re off baking. You teach Brock all the techniques you’ve learned over the years from making these recipes and you get the pleasure of seeing him so free and happy.

You want to see him like this for the rest of your life. A big smile on his face, eyes crinkled in happiness and no sign of any stress hanging over him.

“What are we going to do with all these cookies?” The question falls off your lips after Brock slides the last batch into the oven. 

“Easy. You’ll take some back home with you so your mom can see how much of an awesome job I did and the rest I’ll give to the team. A lot of them won’t say no to homemade cookies even if it’s the middle of the season.” 

“If you say so,” You giggle, not being able to picture his teammates willingly accepting Christmas cookies when they’re in the middle of the best season the team has had in a long time. But you don’t argue, just set aside the best looking cookies that you and Brock decorated for Quinn and Petey, and sneak one to Coolie and Milo too, before getting the kitchen back in order.

After everything is cleaned up so the kitchen doesn’t look like a total disaster anymore and you both enjoy the takeout that Brock ordered for dinner, no time is wasted in moving to the living room to decorate the Christmas tree.

“Okay, where do we start?” You contemplate, gently placing your full mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table while surveying the tree glittering in the corner of the room. 

“I forgot how seriously you take decorating for the holidays.” Brock chuckles, opening the box that he put all the ornaments back in earlier. He didn’t really forget, in fact, he missed it more than anything. That’s more than half the reason he spent so much time taking every single bauble off the tree. Yes, he wanted to make sure Christmas was as magical for you as it would’ve been back home, but he also selfishly wanted to share this moment with you too.

And he’d be lying if he said his heart isn’t full to brim right now with what he knows is love. Not that you can tell or would ever know that.

“The tree is serious business!” You exclaim with a chuckle, watching as Brock carefully starts removing ornaments from the box one at a time. He hands you a simple, but gorgeous blue ball to hang up first.

Slowly, but surely, the two of you decorate the tree with the wide variety of ornaments Brock has. He tells you the stories behind the ones his teammates have gifted him, shares the laughter with you when he stumbles across one that has a picture of him as a toddler in the picture frame and recounts the memories of family or solo vacations whenever he hands you one that was clearly bought at a tourist shop. There’s a soft smile on Brock’s face that never disappears and you swear he keeps sneaking glances at you.  

The tree becomes more festive as each decoration once again finds a home on its branches and not for the first time today, you forget that this isn’t where you were meant to be for the holiday. But you’re kind of grateful for the snowstorm now. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gotten to do any of this with the man who you’ve wanted for years.

“It’s done!” You cheer with excitement when you place the last ornament on the tree. “We did a pretty good job. Don’t you think?” Stepping back to admire the beautiful work you both did, your shoulder bumps Brock’s and that familiar shock of warmth floods through your veins at the brief contact. 

“It’s the best Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.” Brock responds playfully, but there's a faint tone of seriousness evident in his voice. His eyes are glistening in the glow of the lights and you can’t deny how perfect he looks so cozy and joyful like this. 

A few seconds later, without you realizing, Brock slips away to put the box away until it was time to take all the holiday decorations down in a few weeks. But to his surprise, there is one last ornament sitting in the box that was somehow forgotten.

“Y/N,” Brock laughs, picking up the decoration. “We forgot one.”

“No way! What is it?” Nothing but curiosity and excitement is evident in your voice. You cross the room to Brock and lean into his side to see what the mystery ornament is.

And when you get a glimpse, your breath is stolen away. Because in Brock’s hand is a small photo of a grinning little boy and girl sitting together at a picnic table inside a picture frame made of colored popsicle sticks. The two words “best friends” are written in black marker across the bottom of the frame in a neat, but childish looking style of handwriting.

Recognition washes over you instantly.

“I made that,” You start, almost stunned as you look between the homemade ornament and Brock’s face.

“You did. Like decades ago.” Brock chuckles, the sound fills the room with happiness and light. He still remembers the day you gave him this little gift. It was the last day of summer camp and before you both said goodbye with a promise to see each other soon, you gave him the gift. For only being nine years old at the time, Brock thought it was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for him. Plus, that way he had a little piece of you back home too.

Since then, he’s cherished this adorable, homemade ornament like nothing else. It always seemed a little silly to him, to hold onto a childhood craft, but seeing your reaction right now tells him it means just as much to you as it does to him.

“And you still have it. You kept it all this time?”

“Of course I did.”

“Why?” The question is gentle, but full of genuine interest. There’s a beat of comfortable silence as Brock battles with his thoughts for a moment. He knows this is it. This is the moment he finally tells you how he feels. All of the nerves and worries he had about confessing how his heart beats just for you falls away in mere seconds.

Your brows furrow at the strange look on his face. His blue eyes are full of an emotion you can’t place and the softest smile graces his lips. But more than anything, there’s a trace of clarity on display across his features. His gaze flicks down to your lips a few times before he speaks. 

“Because you’re my best friend.” Brock whispers, each word carrying more weight than ever before. “But I don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.” He admits, a weight lifting off his shoulders as the words hang in the air for a moment.

He doesn’t have to say anything else because you know what it is right then. He is in love. With you.

“And you’re my best friend, but I want us to be more too.” Brock’s face practically lights up at your response, knowing that you feel the same way he does. It almost feels like a dream that after years, he doesn’t have to wonder anymore if you have fallen for him too.

“Can I kiss you?” Brock asks with a gentle voice as one hand settles on your hip before pulling you in closer. “We did somehow end up under the mistletoe.” He points up to where the collection of leaves are hanging in the entryway you’re both standing under. You can’t help but laugh at the sight and nothing but pure elation fills your heart.

“Yes, please.” 

He cradles your cheek with one hand while the other stays on your hip, keeping you pressed against his body. You can’t help the smile that blossoms on your face before his lips catch yours in the softest, most passionate kiss you’ve ever experienced. The rough feel of his scruff against your smooth skin makes you giggle a little bit, which Brock responds to by deepening the kiss even more.

It’s absolutely perfect. You’ve dreamt of this exact moment more times than you’d like to admit, but it’s everything and more. And by the way Brock is holding you, it’s obvious he’s been waiting for this too.

When he reluctantly pulls away a few seconds later, there’s a new glimmer that you’ve never seen before in his bright blue eyes. He looks like the human form of sunshine right now and you can’t take it. You reach up to brush a lock of blonde hair back off of Brock’s forehead. He gives your hip a reassuring squeeze, a reminder that this is in fact real.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Brock murmurs, his smile just mere centimeters away from yours.

“I think I do.”

And without hesitation, you lean in to kiss him again. Once because it’s been a long night, twice because it’ll be alright, three times because you waited your whole life.

Before any fears or worries can creep in and ruin the moment, Brock wraps you up in a tight hug. Your head rests against his chest where you can hear his steady heartbeat.

“We’ll figure everything out. I promise.” He says calmly, somehow knowing what your next thought is going to be. “But it’s Christmas Eve and I don’t want to do anything else but enjoy being here with you.”

“I’ve never been so grateful for a snowstorm in my life.” You laugh, pure bliss humming through your body.

“Me either. Who would’ve thought that’s all it would’ve taken for this to finally happen?”

Later that night, when you’re snuggled up with Brock on the couch watching Home Alone while Coolie and Milo sleep nearby, you realize that you did in fact get to spend Christmas at home even though you didn’t make it back to Minnesota. Because Brock is home. Just being in his arms brings you the same kind of comfort and love you cherish so deeply.

Almost as if he can sense that you’re getting lost in your thoughts, Brock raises a brow in silent question when you look up at him. You just smile in response before leaning up to kiss his cheek which earns you a sweet grin.

“Merry Christmas, Brock.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” Brock murmurs softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “So happy my Christmas wish came true this year.”

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

99. :) With Brock Boeser

ooo I haven't gotten any for Brock, of course little nonnie.

Drabble Challenge (requests closing tonight) Drabble Masterlist

"You got a cute butt."

It was no secret that Brock had a nice butt, everyone with eyes knew due to the amount he worked out his glutes were huge and therefore he had a caked up ass. Brock knew that you thought he had a cute butt it was a very well known fact since the beginning of you guys dating. But that doesn't mean you don't still compliment him every time he's wearing comprehension shorts, or tight boxers or little anything that shows his butt off a little more than everyday.

Today you and Brock were working out in your little gym you had made in the basement of your house for times when you were too lazy to go to the gym. Currently you were sitting on the bench watching Brock finish his weighted squats in front of the mirror. You were meant to be helping him keep count but you stopped counting 3 reps ago too distracted by watching Brock butts. Thankfully Brock was keeping count in his head, just as he was about to finish his last rep you yelled over the music.

"Brock, you know, you got a cute butt." Brock just broke out in a full blown smile, at your words. Finishing up his set he walked over to you, smile still on his face.

"Oh yeah?" he asked in cocky tone. But before you could say anything Brock pulled you off the bench and into a hug, his hands going to your ass.

"hmm" you made a sound of acknowledgement as you melted into his chest.

"Well. I think your butt is a lot cutter." Lightly kneading your ass as he speaks.

"It is not! Your butt is bigger than mine!" you argue.

"bigger and cuter aren't the same thing baby. My ass might be big cause I play hockey but your ass is way cuter." Lightly slapping your ass causing your to gasp for dramatic effects.

"whatever, agree to disagree I guess." you mumble as Brock laughs and you pull away to continue your workout.

[chukys-mouthguard]

first and ten - bb6

current mood: an nhl moodboard series

-> brock boeser - football coach au

-> genre: fluff

arriving to the stadium…

Brock kept his eyes glued out the window, watching the scenery as you were closing in on the stadium. Though he tried to keep his cool, you knew he was nervous. He had the potential to do the unthinkable and lead his team to its first Super Bowl in franchise history.

Taking his hand you felt him immediately give yours a squeeze, a soft smile on his lips as he turned to look at you.

“Big day baby.”

“The biggest day, but you’ve got this. I know the boys are gonna win this.”

He pulled your hand to his lips, giving it a kiss as the bus came to a halt. You’d have to say your goodbyes as he and the team would head their separate way to the locker room while you would make your way to the family suite.

As you stepped off the bus, Brock wrapped you in a hug. Kissing your lips before you performed your good luck handshake you’d started three seasons ago and never skipped.

“Love you baby, go kick some ass.”

the final drive…

Your hands were glued to your face, partially shielding your eyes as you couldn’t bear to watch. Brock’s team winning by a field goal as it all came down to the final play of the game. A first down was needed, otherwise it would all be over and Brock would become a Super Bowl champion.

The snap of the ball saw the stadium fall silent, anticipation brewing as the quarterback scanned his options. A hail mary pass being his only option, your eyes following the ball down the field as it fell into the arms of one of Brock’s players for an interception.

Your body had registered what had happened before your brain, instinctively jumping up and down with those around you in excitement. The other wives and girlfriends accompanying you in the suite all wrapping their arms around you, tears falling from your eyes as you screamed. The feeling overwhelming as you watched the team storming the field, your husband officially was a Super Bowl champion.

as the confetti falls…

As the celebrations continued on the field, you were sprinting as fast as you could to get down and see Brock. Navigating the crowd as best you could, head on a swivel as you looked for his blonde hair peeking out from his cap. Surely he was being pulled in a million directions, you’d be lucky to find him without a struggle.

“Where’s my wife? Has anyone seen y/n?”

Brock was asking all team personnel to help him find you, his eyes scanning every face that crossed his path. The only person he wanted to see was you, needing to hold you in his arms and relish in this moment with you.

“Brock!”

Looking down field he saw you sprinting towards him, the biggest smile on his face as he took off running. The second you were close enough you jumped into his arms, Brock latching onto you and not letting go. Spinning you around before pulling your lips to his, kissing you like his life depended on it.

“I fucking told you baby! You’re a god damn Super Bowl champion!”

You held his face in your hands as you congratulated him, seeing the pure excitement radiating from him, tears slightly welling in his eyes as he smiled. The realization not fully sunken in.

“Crazy isn’t it? We did it baby!”

He kissed once more before spinning you around again, screaming in excitement as you looked to the sky. Confetti raining down to shower the field in his team’s colors, time standing still as you two never wanted this moment to end.

[lam-ila]

Hotel Room || Brock Boeser

Summary: Brock invites you to a family vacation where you have to share a bed and… well I think you know what’ll happen next.

Word Count: 1,629

Warnings: none

please let me know if you find any that i should add

NHL Masterlist

a/n: here’s my entry for the 2024 winter fic exchange hosted by the lovely @wyattjohnston ! this was written for @gravestrain . i hope you like it Elle!

this is gender neutral. hope you enjoy this! feedback is appreciated

LIKES ARE GREAT, REBLOGS ARE BETTER ♡

You and Brock had been best friends since high school and you two were very close. You were invited to each other’s family dinners, parties, and vacations. Most recently, Brock invited you to a week long family vacation Cancun. However, this family vacation was different from the other ones you attended as this was a vacation that included Brock’s extended family and you very much wanted to make them like you.

It was a long and tiring commute over to Cancun, but you had finally made it to the hotel you were staying at. Having already eaten dinner, you, Brock, and his family agreed on crashing in the hotel rooms in order to be refreshed for the next few days to come.

You stood in the hotel lobby as you and Brock waited for your room keycards, becoming suspicious when you saw a few of Brock’s cousins in a huddle with their and your room keycards.

“Here’s your keycards,” one of them said while handing Brock the keycards. “Well, see you two tomorrow!” His cousins left for the elevator before either one of you could respond, leaving just you and Brock standing in the lobby.

“They seemed overly excited to give us our keycards,” Brock pointed out, a hint of worry laced within his words.

“They’re probably just excited that we’re at the hotel,” you said in an attempt to ease his mind.

“No, there’s definitely something there hiding from us.” Brock reached for your hand and protectively intertwined his fingers with yours. You knew it was common for him and his cousins to play pranks on each other and you could tell that Brock was worried that they pulled a prank on you.

Once you reached the room and opened the door, you noticed that there was only one bed in the centre of the room.

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me,” Brock said, taking his hand out of yours and running it through his hair.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, unsure of the problem.

Brock walked over to one of the bedside tables, noticing a hand written note that read ‘have fun’. He turned around in frustration; that was the prank his cousins pulled, they knew to give you a room with two beds and they chose not to.

“I told my cousins to give us a room with two beds and they purposely gave us a room with only one bed!” Brock pointed out, waving the note around in frustration.

“I mean, it’s not that bad,” you reasoned. Was sharing a bed with each other that much of a challenge for Brock? Maybe you were just reading into it too much.

“Yeah, I know,” Brock sighed, easing your worries. “I just didn’t want them to do something to you.”

You took the note out of his hand, confused at the message written on it, but put it aside after realizing it was probably some inside joke between Brock and his cousins.

After you and Brock got ready for bed, you sat one one side of the bed, fully expecting Brock to follow and sit on the other side. Instead, to your dismay, he took the pillow off of his side and placed it onto the floor.

“Brock, you are not sleeping on the floor,” you broke the ongoing silence that was present since discovering the note left by his cousins.

“But there’s… I mean… they…” he stammered.

As he was trying to explain his thoughts, you slowly walked over to him and lightly placed your index finger on his mouth, silently shushing him.

“It’s okay,” you assured while taking your finger off of his lips. “just get in the bed.”

“Is that an order?” Brock teased, a slight smirk appearing on his face.

“Mhm. You and I are both getting in the bed and then we’re going to sleep because it’s a bed and not a big deal,” you explained, trying to convince not only him, but yourself that sleeping together in one bed wasn’t as tragic as it seemed.

“Alright,” he said, picking up his pillow and returning it to the bed. “but if I bother you at any point throughout the night, you wake me up and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Okay Brock,” you chuckled, agreeing only to get him to stop suggesting that he slept on the floor.

So there you were, both laying in the same bed with all the lights off minus two lamps which rested on bedside tables next to each side of the bed. Brock faced away from you and you on your back facing the ceiling. Both of your eyes were wide open in thought.

“Hey Brock?” you called out, hoping he wasn’t too tired after a full day of travelling to have a conversation.

“Yeah?” he responded, turning to face you, but you stayed still and continued to look at the ceiling.

“What are we?” You hit him with the hard hitting question. The question he never found the courage to ask in fear of losing you as a friend. “I mean, we’re friends, yeah, but what is all of this going on between us?” You shifted your body so that you were looking at him, wanting to see what his body reaction was to your question.

“What do you mean?” Brock asked, a concerned look fully present on his face.

“That,” you pointed out. “that’s what I mean.”

“Well, I’m concerned because I’m your friend.”

“No Brock, that’s not what I-” you cut yourself off, deciding to drop the topic. “never mind, just forget I said anything.” You began turning to face away from him, but Brock quickly grabbed your hands to prevent you from turning away. He only dropped your hands once you showed that you weren’t going to turn away.

“Then what did you mean? It’s obvious it’s important to you and if it’s important to you then it’s important to me.”

You took a deep breath as you smiled slightly at his words.

“I mean, are we more than what we think we are? Because last time I checked, people who are just friends don’t act the way we do towards each other and then there was the note on the-”

“That was just a stupid joke my cousins always make about me.” Brock interrupted you to downplay said note which was currently crumpled up in the hotel room’s garbage bin.

“Would you let me finish?” you slightly teased. “What I’m trying to say is that I like being friends with you.”

“Okay, I like being friends with you too.”

You tilted your head to give him a pointed look, indicating you still hadn’t said what you wanted to say.

“I’m still not done,” you explained.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you found his hand under the covers and squeezed it in reassurance. “I like being friends with you and sometimes I feel like we’re more than that. Sometimes, I wish that we were more than that.” You paused, waiting for Brock’s reaction. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words were spoken. “But I understand if you don’t want that. It doesn’t have to change anything.” You quickly added, still unsure of what Brock thought. Your eyes frantically scanned his face over and over again, looking for any indication of a response. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Sometimes?” he teased.

“What?”

“You only sometimes wish that we were more than that?” Brock laughed softly to himself. “‘Cause I always wish that we were more than that.”

“Really?” A smile starts to spread on your lips, but it drops and you abruptly sit up when you realize: “This is just some sick joke that you’re pulling.”

“Why would you think that?” Brock follows your actions and sits up.

“You really think I would fall for this?” You accused, getting up from the bed. You went to the washroom and started collecting your things, wanting to be anywhere but in a room with Brock.

“I don’t understand.” Brock said, following you into the washroom to try to stop you from leaving. “Why would you think that?” He repeated.

“Just forget I said anything.” You tried to brush past him, but he stopped you in the doorway of the washroom.

“Why would you think that?” Brock repeated a third and final time, this time much slower than the previous two times. He waited for a response, but all you did was look at the ground and not say anything. Brock took your hand in his, gently pulling you to the bed that started everything and you both sat down on it. Letting go of your hand, he softly caressed your cheek until you finally spoke up.

“It’s not a joke.”

“Nope.”

“It was just,” you sighed, unsure of how to get your thoughts out, “too good to be true that I guess I just tried to think of any reason why it wouldn’t be true.”

Brock shifted his body to get a better view of you as you tilted your head to finally look him in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I didn’t feel that way about you.”

“We always invite each other to family vacations, how was I supposed to know the intent behind this invitation was any different?” You laughed in disbelief, playfully hitting Brock’s shoulder.

“That was my bad.” He laughed along with you.

“So, does this mean that… well… that we’re…”

“Just ask me to be your boyfriend.” Brock abruptly cut you off. “Uh… please?”

Laughing at his eagerness, you asked the question you’ve been wanting to ask for years: “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Brock simply hummed in response before finally capturing your lips with his in a kiss.

——————————

NHL taglist: @readyfreddy @jostystyles @jimothystu @typical-simplelove @2manytabsopen @11livpangburn @matthewkniesys @lifeofpriya @fallinallincurls

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[literaryslapshot]

Hello! For the poetry prompts, could you please write 28 for Brock Boeser? ❤️

"i thought it was just goodbye for now" | poetic prompts | warnings: situationship, cuss words, may or may not be based on a real life situation involving someone named j, maybe idk

you swear, the next time he rolls his eyes you were going to throw your phone into the wall. he was so good at making you mad and pushing your buttons, over and over. he knew just exactly how to get you pissed off and he loved to do it.

"brock you know that we were never exclusive, and we were never going to go anywhere." he sits with his arms crossed and his lips pursed together.

he came to you, thirty minutes ago now, pissed off that you were talking with another man. he claimed that he thought you guys were going somewhere and that you were going to have a relationship at some point.

at some point.

"but-"

"no! i gave you plenty of chances. we hung out more than enough times- i even helped decorate your house, brock! that's what couples do." taking a sip of your drink you held onto, watching as his muscles stayed tense and your palms began to sweat. he wasn't going to back down any time soon.

"i just don't think it's fair. you do all this shit with me, the whole time you're talking to someone else? thought you liked me." his voice stayed low in tone, he didn't want the whole bar to hear your conversation, he still had some dignity and respect for you.

"brock you're not hearing me. i gave you chances to make it up to me, i gave you more than enough. i wanted so badly for you to ask me to go out with you, to go on a date, to do boyfriend and girlfriend stuff. but i told you goodbye weeks ago, so you don't have any reason to be mad at me."

"i thought it was just goodbye for now, not forever." he was too ashamed to make eye contact now. he finished his cocktail and tapped the table, staring at the glossy finish on the wood.

"grow up brock. then maybe, maybe, i'll reconsider."

[wyattjohnston]

and i had silly dreams - brock boeser

summary: a series of weddings mean a series of run-ins with brock, and that means josie must confront some long held feelings.

word count: 3.2k

note: happy birthday @senditcolton!!! this is what i wrote for your birthday bingo and i hope you like it. i hope you get loads of wonderful fics to read, because you deserve them all <3

bingo squares: wedding season + 'it was always you' + free space + second chance romance + interrupted kiss

Josie had forgotten that he’d be there. She’d helped with sending the invitations, helped with the seating chart and had felt her heart skip a beat every time she saw his name. She still did a double take when she saw him at the reception.

Immediately noticing the double take, Courtney, the bride, asked in a high pitch, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything is perfect,” Josie said, literally waving her off. “I forgot Brock was going to be here, is all.”

With all the subtlety that she was known for—none—Courtney whipped her head in the direction Josie had vaguely pointed at. Josie rolled her eyes but followed Courtney’s gaze to see Brock standing beside a table laughing raucously.

“He’s single.”

“Yeah,” Josie said, rolling her eyes. “That’s never been the problem.”

Courtney’s mouth opened and Josie knew she was ready to go off on a tangent about there never being a real problem. Luckily for Josie, Liam materialised to distract his bride and take her away to speak to his parents.

Their departure led to a brief reprieve for Josie who felt like she hadn’t stopped all day, or for the entire month leading up to the wedding. She had truly gone above and beyond—something that Courtney had been increasingly thankful about—and, while there was a quiet moment, she took her seat at the wedding party’s table and barely resisted dropping her head onto the table.

People approached her to check in, the other bridesmaids making sure everything was going to schedule and being redirected to the wedding planner, Rebecca, and her own parents making sure she wasn’t taking on more than she could handle. She absolutely was, but that wasn’t something she’d readily admit. Rebecca popping by was the last thing Josie wanted, because the updates she’d been getting all evening weren’t good.

She felt even more drained when she was left alone again, only interrupted by a waiter carrying a tray of champagne. Josie took two flutes.

It wasn’t a hardship to watch Courtney and Liam bounce around the room together, largely inseparable and overwhelmingly in love—they’d been together for so long that their marriage had slowly morphed into an inevitability and Josie was happy that she had a front row seat to it all.

Even if, every so often in her peripheral vision, there was someone she had to keep monitoring. That she could have done without.

Someone dropped into the empty bridesmaid’s seat beside her, and Josie’s breath hitched in her throat when she realised who it was. She may have forgotten that he’d be at the wedding, but she could never forget him.

She only looked at him out of the corner of her eye—he was like the sun, really, it was dangerous to look directly at him.

“You look stressed.”

Josie hummed in agreement, picking up her second champagne flute and saying, “It is my job to burden all the shit that Liam’s cousin is pulling and make sure that Court never hears about it.”

“And he’s pulling a lot of shit?”

“Literally hasn’t changed since high school.”

Brock’s laugh was low, and he didn’t sound at all shocked. Even having spent a couple of years not in school with said cousin—James, if she had to use his name—Brock was no stranger to the trouble that followed him around.

“Surely just kick him out,” Brock suggested.

“He’s got one more chance. I really don’t want to cause a fuss, right now Court and Liam have no idea, but the poor wedding planner is getting complaints from the staff that he’s being rude to them.”

Brock patted the table and Josie looked at him, then. It truly was dangerous because there was nothing she wouldn’t have done for him. So, when he smiled at her and asked if she wanted to go for a little walk outside to destress there was no chance she’d ever say no.

Despite the sweaty palms he gave her, and had given her for many years, being around Brock was easy. There was never any pressure, no expectations that ever came with him. At least no expectations coming from him, the expectations placed by other people were forever lingering.

The Country Club in Lakeville was the perfect place for a wedding—a fact that had held true for years, and would continue to for many more, Josie was sure—and the weather only made it more so. Despite the sun having set about an hour earlier, the temperature had held steady and, had it been any other wedding, Josie would have taken off her shoes and ran through the grass with her arms outstretched.

“Do you like being home?” Josie asked Brock when they stopped at a patio table.

“I like that it’s quieter here,” he admitted. “Vancouver’s great, but… Yeah. I like being home.”

They sat at the table, just staring over the course and into the night sky, with no knowledge of how long they’d been out there. Josie knew that she’d never be able to truly relax while she was waiting for James to do something, but it was nice.

Brock’s company was always welcome, his ability to find a topic and talk about it for any length of time had always impressed, and it was a welcome distraction even if it was only temporary.

Rebecca came to find her far too soon after they ventured outside, somehow looking even more frustrated than she had all night. James was hot on her heels, cursing up a very loud storm.

“She’s lying!” James shouted. Josie instinctively looked to Brock, her eye twitching.

“He’s now inappropriately touching the waitstaff.”

The eye twitch changed into a full grimace with an accompanying disgusted groan. James’ shouting got louder and angrier, that anger directed at Josie at the first sign that she didn’t believe him. Within a second of James taking a step forward to get in Josie’s face, Brock was standing. He didn’t raise his voice, nor did he sound particularly angry when he spoke.

“Time for you to go home, don’t you think?” Brock asked, so calm it was rather disturbing.

James stepped back but didn’t stop his yelling, trying to shout around Brock’s body to continue his tirade on Josie. Rebecca was long forgotten.

“It’s been ten fucking years and you’re still so fucking pussy whipped. She’s so fucking frigid she’s not going to sleep with you, dude, you don’t need to white knight.”

James’ words rolled through Josie’s head one by one, so slowly that she was only processing them one at a time. Until the meaning of what he’d said hit her, then her silence was because she had no idea how she could possibly respond.

Brock took care of it, though, clapping his hand down on James’ shoulder with a satisfying and deep thud, forcibly turning him around and saying, “Pretty sure your parents are looking for you.”

Rebecca stared at Josie wide eyed; Josie still didn’t know how she was supposed to have responded.

A few weeks passed and the next wedding popped up on Josie’s calendar—everyone she knew was getting married and it was the busiest summer she’d ever had. She had no responsibilities at any other wedding that summer, though, and as far as she knew there would be no sign of James at any of them, so she was letting her hair down.

Drunk. She was getting drunk.

Brock had also made an appearance which Josie hadn’t been expecting. Maybe she should have seeing as the Bride and Groom had invited practically everyone they’d ever met.

Josie and Courtney had barely left the dancefloor since they were let loose after dinner unless it was to get another drink that didn’t even make it back to the dancefloor. The looseness in her limbs helped the floating feeling coursing through her even as she and Courtney scream-singed at each other manically. Liam moved around them, manic in his own way, and joined them to bounce and sing through the choruses.

Every so often, Josie would catch sight of Brock somewhere throughout the room being cornered by someone who was no doubt talking to him about hockey. It was happening to Jake Oettinger, too. They were both far too nice to even pull a face that might let someone know they didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe they did want to talk about it—Josie didn’t know Jake very well at all and it had been years since she’d known Brock in any meaningful capacity.

The dancing did eventually stop when it was time for speeches, so Josie procured another drink from the bar and took her designated seat and readied herself for a bunch of inside jokes she had no context for. The chair beside her pulled back and Josie started to greet the old friend from high school she’d spoken with throughout dinner only to be met with Brock’s smiling face.

“Wow, Mike, you’ve changed a lot since dinner.”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention since dinner,” he said, hushed. “You’ve been having fun.”

It didn’t take long for the speeches to drag on—the bride was the least interesting person Josie had ever met and nobody had injected her with any personality in the lead up to the wedding which was a surprise because her father stole the show and spoke for what may have been half an hour.

Brock was mumbling under his breath beside her, mostly when a new person got up to speak but the ones that had her struggling to muffle her own laughs were the for fuck’s sake that fell from his mouth whenever someone paused, raising everyone’s hope, only to continue and destroy it all. Everyone was apparently following the same formula of disappointment.

The applause when the speeches finally ended could not have been solely for the speech itself, it was far too enthusiastic for how boring the speech was.

“Drink?” Brock asked, already standing.

Josie was past the point of being concerned about a hangover, so she walked with Brock to the bar, ordered another glass of champagne and happily let Brock walk them outside. It was a cooler night than the last time they sat outside, but the alcohol running through her veins meant that Josie hardly felt it.

“Do you ever just tell people you don’t want to talk about hockey?”

Brock’s mouth twitched, “Josie, I don’t want to talk about hockey.”

She huffed, slouching down in the chair she found, and then started to giggle when Brock’s face morphed into a proper smile. Still laughing, Josie let her head fall back against the top of the chair, her eyes falling shut even if she did want to stare up at the stars.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” she asked slowly, taking time to sound out each word. “I don’t know how long I can talk for.”

“I just wanted to see if you were okay after what James said.”

it was a punch to the gut, being reminded. She forced herself to shrug. Talking was, at that point, beyond her. Brock didn’t seem bothered by the silence.

When the next wedding rolled around, Josie was much more sensible. It helped that Courtney and Liam had finally departed for their honeymoon and Josie had nobody to get silly with, and also that her parents were in attendance. It was a much smaller wedding, too, so she couldn’t blend into the crowd.

The biggest factor might have been that she had been seated right next to Brock. Somehow, she didn’t know who was the reason behind it, their chairs ended up right next to each other—so close that she could feel the warmth of his body from his leg where it was pressed against hers.

“Will the speeches be better this week?” Brock whispered in her ear. Josie covered her mouth to muffle the sudden laugh that threatened to burst from her mouth.

They weren’t better, but they were at least shorter.

It didn’t take any convincing for Josie to join Brock outside—their own little wedding tradition, it seemed. It was their space, even when half the guests had ventured outside and away from the loud music, and Josie couldn’t help but lean towards him to make sure she didn’t miss a single word he said.

“I didn’t realise we still had so many friends in common,” she said after they were briefly interrupted by someone wanting to say hello.

Brock bristled, affronted, “I didn’t just forget everyone when I left.”

“No, I know,” she stressed. “You and I both know that the hockey team and I weren’t exactly best friends. James made sure of that after you went to Iowa.”

Brock’s face fell. He’d heard the stories because Josie was the one to tell him during the summer after high school after two years of being put through hell. James’ outburst at Courtney and Liam’s wedding wasn’t dissimilar to what he’d been saying to her for years.

“That’s not the point, though,” Josie interjected, noticing that Brock was opening his mouth to speak. “The point is, that I forget that you had friends outside of the hockey team. Have friends outside the hockey team.”

It didn’t do much to appease Brock, Josie noticed, a sullen expression still etched across his face. Her shoulders fell when she realised that she’d sufficiently killed the happy mood they had been sitting in.

Without warning, after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Brock said, “You’re one of the best friends I’ve kept.” He continued, after a loud and uncontrolled scoff from Josie, “I know we aren’t as close as we used to be but… I don’t know, you’re someone I would have hated to lose contact with.”

Josie rose and moved towards Brock, bending down to wrap her arms around his neck before he could even register what she was doing. She was forever glad they were still in touch, even if they typically only talked over the summer.

It did nothing to help ten years of pent-up feelings when Brock’s hand settled against her lower back, the thin material of her dress doing nothing to hide the warmth of it. The size of it. The way it made her heart jump into her throat.

He didn’t move it as she started to pull away—not because she wanted to move, but because she had to in order to preserve her own sanity. She could only imagine the sadness and longing, in her eyes when she was just far enough from him to make eye contact.

“Brock…”

“Why haven’t we?” Brock asked in a whisper.

In just as quiet a whisper, Josie asked back, “Why haven’t we what?”

“You know what.”

Brock’s eyes drifted to her mouth, and Josie promptly forgot how to breathe. Josie looked at his mouth, struck by the way they slowly parted and hers unconsciously did the same. The light pressure on her lower back increased, it was only slightly but it was enough to have her leaning into him.

“Josie? Are you out here?”

With a sudden but noticeable lack of warmth against her lower back, Josie straightened with a heavy sigh—Brock was laughing in disbelief.

“Yes, Mom,” she said, slowly sinking back into the seat she’d left.

And so, Josie’s mom wandered out into the courtyard, none the wiser to what she had interrupted, and starting a lengthy rant about her own sister that held Brock and Josie captive until it was time for the First Dance.

At least by then Josie’s breathing had returned to normal, though her erratic heartbeat was never going to calm when Brock was looking at her so softly.

The summer of weddings was never ending, with Josie being pulled interstate to attend weddings of some of her sorority sisters. They were exceedingly fun, even if Josie found herself looking around the room for Brock without realising—he’d become quite the fixture.

She was still yet to see him outside of a wedding, despite his assertion that they were friends, but Josie wasn’t making any efforts to organise that either, so she wasn’t able to blame him solely. Courtney had not been quiet about any of it and had made multiple threats to schedule a double date. All of her suggestions had been cut down, no matter how well intentioned.

At Josie’s final wedding of an otherwise gruellingly long summer, she spotted Brock almost instantly. As did Courtney and Liam, both of whom pushed Josie in Brock’s direction. She only barely saved herself from tripping in her heels before Brock was shifting his attention away from Jake Oettinger—god, it really was a small world that he’d been at two of the summer’s weddings—and noticing her. He didn’t waste any time in abandoning Jake to stand beside Josie.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Surely there’s no one left in Minnesota to get married.”

“Just us, I think.”

Josie didn’t want to conjure up an image of her standing with Brock at an altar, in a dress she’d been dreaming about her entire life, but she did. In high-definition technicolour.

With cheeks red and warm, Josie blinked the image from her mind and accidentally made eye contact with Brock when she started to frantically search for Courtney to come save her. The eye contact was the worst thing she could have done; it added to her wedding daydream as she plastered that expression onto Brock’s face at the altar.

It became clear that nobody was coming to her rescue—that anybody even noticed she was in need of rescuing— so Josie turned her back on the crowd of people so that they wouldn’t see the heartbreak on her face when she said, “You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” Brock asked with no hesitation or uncertainty.

“Because it’s not just us, Brock. It’s never me.”

“What are you talking about, Josie?” She had never heard him sound so exasperated or confused. The tight pull of his eyebrows softened as he said, “It was always you. It’s literally always been you.”

Josie frowned as she felt her shoulders sag—no weight had been lifted from them by the admission. In fact, she felt more tense than ever at Brock’s words.

“That’s… That might be worse, you know?” she sighed. “It’s been like ten years and if it’s always been me then why has it never been me?”

“Why has it never been me? I didn’t think I was very subtle.”

A swarm of people began to move in their direction, and Josie turned just enough to see people beckoning the crowd into the chapel.

Harried and conscious of how close everyone else was getting, Josie whispered frantically, “We can’t do this now.”

“We can do this whenever,” Brock said, taking Josie’s hand as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “We should do this all the time.”

Josie’s brain wasn’t entirely online as she felt Brock’s long fingers wrap around hers, and it was only just started to register everything around her again when he used that hand to pull her closer to him. There was so much time to move away, that Josie nearly did because she thought he’d pulled her in on accident. The way his head tilted down was unmistakable, though, and Josie didn’t want to move a muscle as their lips touched for the first time.

[hockey-fics]

A Perfect Celebration - Brock Boeser

Word Count: ~3,600

Warnings: drinking, smut (that's the majority of it)

(This was requested after the game on October 11th, it should not have taken me this long to write, I'm very sorry.)

You couldn’t believe what you were watching. Not that you didn’t believe in Brock’s skills. But when you watched the fourth goal go into the net you couldn’t help but feel overjoyed for him. Brock. You had been friends for years and you had seen him go through so many struggles relating to his career. Painful days, helping him deal with the aftermath of surgery, of injuries. But moments like these, you knew the excitement he would be feeling, the happiness, relief, that it would make all those other days worth it. 

When the game ends you can’t wipe the giddy smile off your face. An 8-1 win in their first game, with four of those goals coming from Brock.

‘wanna come for a couple drinks to celebrate?’

You can tell from the lack of details he was rushing to get the text message to you. You weren’t shocked though, you were sure there was a lot going on for him. ‘Absolutely’ 

‘Bayside?’

‘Sounds good’

‘I’ll be out of here as soon as I can’ 

‘Take your time’ 

Slowly you make your way out of the arena, heading to your car where it was parked so far away you feel like you should have just walked to the arena. Knowing that you’d have some time before Brock made it to Bayside you head home, leaving your car there in favour of getting an Uber to the bar. 

Shortly after arriving at the bar Brock is at your side. His hair is still damp from his shower, his lips pulled into an intoxicating smile. You’re sure he’d heard a million congratulatory comments already at that point but it doesn’t stop you from throwing your arms around him. “Starting off hot, hey?” 

Brock chuckles, a comforting sound that fills you with happiness. He pulls you in closer, his arms tight around you. “I’m glad you were there tonight,” he mumbles. 

“Me too,” you whisper. Breathing in you’re hit with the familiar scent that always lingered on Brock, his soap, shampoo, cologne, you didn’t know what it was but you loved it. You loved him. But that was something that you could barely even admit to yourself. “I’m proud of you.”

Brock pulls back, his hands falling to your arms, not letting go of the contact between the two of you. “Thank you,” Brock breathes out, his eyes lingering on you. 

“Are you guys coming?” Quinn nearly yells, suddenly appearing at your side. Flinching you pull back from Brock, realizing you weren’t actually having a private moment with him. 

Following the group of people who had come out for a few drinks to celebrate the win you slide into the booth beside Brock. The table is small and you have to press yourself into Brock in order to not be teetering on the edge of the booth. 

“Do you have enough room?” Brock asks you, lifting his arm up to rest on the back of the booth behind you. 

Wiggling in a little closer you give him a reassuring nod. “Yeah, I’m good…unless you don’t want me this close,” you joke. 

“You can get as close as you want,” Brock tells you, his voice suddenly lower, his eyes locked on yours. You didn’t want to read into it, didn’t want your stomach to fill with butterflies. But you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t stop the heat rising to your cheeks as you stare up at Brock. 

Clearing your throat you quickly turn your head to look at the drink menu in front of you before Brock could notice the reddening of your cheeks. “Do you know what you’re going to drink?” you ask, pushing the drink menu between the two of you so you could both look at it. 

“Probably just a beer,” Brock chuckles, eyes scanning over the list of craft cocktails. 

Giggling you turn your head to look back up at him. “You’re so predictable.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily,” you whisper with a shrug. You didn’t want to tell him that you wouldn’t mind him being a little less predictable. A little less predictable if it meant moving your relationship away from always being just friends. 

“You’re going to get the cucumber jalapeño margarita,” Brock states with a playful smile. 

“How did you know that?” you ask, eyes widening. 

“Because you’re predictable,” Brock teases, his hand falling to your shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

Rolling your eyes you push the drink menu back towards the centre of the table. After putting in your drink orders the conversation picks up, loud and rambunctious. Laughter filled the air frequently, a joyous energy around the table. After your third, or maybe fourth, margarita you could feel yourself gravitating closer and closer to Brock, even though you didn’t think it was even possible to do so. Before long you have one of your hands sitting on the top of his thigh, his arm that was once sitting on the back of the booth now wrapped around your shoulders. 

“I’m going to the washroom,” you tell Brock after finishing off your last drink, sliding out of the booth. 

“I have to go to too,” Brock mumbles, standing up after you. The two of you make your way to the bathrooms at the back of the bar. After using the washroom you touch up your hair and makeup the best you possibly could in the mirror of the dim bathroom. 

Stepping out of the bathroom your eyes fall on Brock, leaning against the hallway wall across from you. “You didn’t have to wait for me,” you tell him. 

“I wanted to.” Brock shrugs, reaching out and grabbing your hand, pulling you to stand in front of him. You’re shocked by the sudden contact but you don’t pull back, don’t want it to stop. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Me too,” you tell him with a smile. “You’re being kinda sappy,” you tease, shuffling a little closer. Maybe it was the jalapeño margaritas pushing you closer to him but you weren’t going to deny the confidence the tequila was giving you felt good. Because you had feelings for Brock, very strong feelings. You just never had the courage to act on them before. 

Brock pulls his hand away from yours, reaching over and setting his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. “What are you up to?” you whisper, fingers moving up to rest on the front of his chest. 

He doesn’t answer you, at least not verbally. Slowly he leans in, till his lips are nearly touching yours. 

“Brock,” you breathe out, your eyes settling on his lips, so close to yours. 

“Sorry, I didn’t-,” Brock mumbles, slowly pulling back. 

Before he can get far your fingers curl into the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him back to you. As you do you lean up to press your lips to his. There’s a palpable hesitation but it lasts only a few seconds. Till his hands are fumbling on your body, desperately pulling you closer. Till you’re sliding your arms over his shoulders, tangling your fingers in his hair. Till his tongue brushes against yours and you have to hold back a moan as your body tingles with desire. 

You pull back only when you sense movement in your peripheral. Quickly stepping back from Brock your cheeks redden as a woman sheepishly hurries by, slipping into the bathroom. Once the bathroom door falls shut you turn your attention back to Brock. “That’s embarrassing,” you mumble. 

“Kissing me?” Brock teases. 

Rolling your eyes you place your hands on his chest again, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “No,” you whisper. “But I’d like it if we had been in a more private location for it.”

“We could be,” Brock offers, his hands coming to rest on your waist. 

As the insinuation behind the suggestion hits you inhale a sharp breath, your lips parting slightly. You can feel your heart racing, your eyes bouncing from his eyes to his lips. “Yeah,” you whisper. “We could be.”

Brock places his fingers under your chin, tipping your head back to lean down and kiss you. It’s gentle and slow, lasting only long enough to leave you longing for more. “Should we?” Brock asks. 

“Yes,” you reply quickly, nodding. “Now or do you want to hang out and celebrate longer?”

“Now,” Brock tells you eagerly, making you giggle. 

You follow him back to the table where he tells everyone he’s heading home, making up some excuse about feeling pretty tired. Of course everyone just assumed you would leave with him. You only ever spent time with this group if you were with Brock, so your departure at the same time didn’t raise any eyebrows. After he pays the bill, despite your insistence that you wanted to pay for his celebratory drinks, you head back to his apartment. 

You’re barely through the door when Brock has his hands on you again. After kicking off your shoes you spin around in his grasp, fingers sliding up his chest. Leaning up you brush your lips over Brock’s the tension in the room building to an almost unbearable level. A second later Brock is pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is filled with passion and lust, desperate and longing. Your fingers curl into the fabric of Brock’s t-shirt as he pushes you back into the wall. Your back smacks into the wall, harder than you were expecting. 

“Sorry,” Brock mutters against your lips, his hands sliding down to your hips. 

“Don’t be,” you whisper, your arms sliding up over his shoulders. “Kinda how I like it.”

Brock’s breath leaves his lips with a shaky groan. His hands grasp at your hips, pulling you into him. “Are you sure about this?” Brock mumbles. 

You hesitate for a second, your brain scrambling for the right answer. Of course you wanted it, you wanted him, more than anything else right now. But you could also see how easily this could come back to bite you. If this was all this was, a casual hookup, you were certain that was going to hurt you in the long run. Regardless you couldn’t bring yourself to stop, giving him an affirmative nod. 

“I want you,” you whisper, leaning back up to kiss him again. His hands move from your hips to your waist, warm hands pushing underneath the bottom of your shirt. His fingers brush along the bare skin of your sides, warm and comforting. Pulling his hands back a minute later he breaks away from the kiss, fingers grasping at the bottom of your shirt to tug it off of you. The air in the apartment is cool, your skin erupting in goosebumps. 

“Guess I need to warm you up a bit,” Brock mumbles, voice low. 

His hands find your waist again, pushing you from the entryway of the apartment and into the living room. He sits down on the couch first, hands sliding behind your thighs to guide you down on top of him. Your knees settle into the couch on either side of him, your hands resting on his shoulders. Pressing your hips forward with a playful smirk you can feel Brock tense beneath you, his breath shuddering. Your kiss is quicker now, hands grasping at him as you rock your hips into him. His body is warm, heat radiating into you. 

His hands make their way around your back, fingers making quick work of the hooks of your bra. You pull back from the kiss only to let him slide the bra down your arms. His eye darken with lust when they drift to your exposed chest. “Holy fuck,” he groans, his hands sliding up your sides and around your body, large roaming over your chest. 

Giggling you lean a little closer, till your lips are hovering over his. “I could say the same,” you whisper before kissing him again. His tongue brushes against yours, a quiet whimper of desire slipping past your lips. Pulling back you grasp at his shirt, yanking it over his head and tossing it to the side. Your fingers run down his now bares shoulders, taking the opportunity to touch him in ways you had only every imagined. 

Your breathing is shaky as you push yourself off the couch, sinking down onto your knees in front of Brock. Your hands land on his belt, slowly unbuckling it, your eyes locked on his. 

Brock groans quietly, his hip shifting forward and you can’t help the teasing smile that spreads on your lips. When you get the belt unbuckled you move your hands to the button of his jeans, only slowing down further as you watch his growing impatience. 

By the time you get his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped Brock’s breathing is shaky and he quickly lifts his hips sliding his jeans off. Leaning forward you run your fingers up his torso, a teasing smile on your lips as you stare up at him. 

“Baby,” he groans, his fingers running through your hair. Hearing him call you baby fills your brain with hazy pleasure. Baby. It didn’t mean much, not in a moment like this, but you couldn’t stop yourself from letting the word play over and over again in your mind. 

“Yes?” you whisper, staring up at him as you slide your body back down to kneel completely in front of him. 

Brock’s lips curl into an amused smirk, chuckling lowly. “I never would have imagined this outta you.”

Curling your fingers under the elastic of his underwear you slowly begin to inch them lower. “Do you imagine what I’m like in bed often?”

Brock lifts his hips, quickly sliding his underwear off. While leaning forward he places his hands under your chin, his lips on yours. His tongue rolls against yours and you push yourself closer to him, hands grasping at his arms. “How could I not?” Brock mutters before sitting up straighter, watching you closely. 

Your body is hot with desire, desperate for more. Reaching up you wrap your hand around his cock, moving your hand so slow you’re sure Brock would say something. But he doesn’t. He watches you intently, breathing raged. You’re tempted to tease him longer but the heat in your core is increasing and you don’t want to be patient any longer. Leaning over you slowly bring him into your mouth, revelling in the groan it draws from his lips. 

Before long you’re moving your head with a steady rhythm, keeping your hand around the base of his cock, thick saliva building in your mouth. You’re not able to continue for much longer before Brock is telling you to stop. 

When you pull back Brock reaches down, his thumb brushing over your your bottom lip, wiping away some of the saliva from your lip. He stands up a second later, taking your hands and helping you to your feet. “Let’s go to my room,” Brock suggests.

Your mind is hazy, nodding eagerly before following Brock to his room. His hands find the button of your jeans, leaning down to kiss you as he unbuttons them. He pulls back to slide them down your legs, his hands slowly trailing back up your thighs. “Lay down,” Brock tells your. 

Your breath hitches in your throat and you turn to walk to the edge of the bed, laying down on your back. Brock follows you, his hands on your legs, pulling you to the edge of the bed as he sinks down between them. You watch him press his lips to your inner thigh, gently, teasingly. His eyes are locked on you as you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him. When you feel his tongue run along you your body jolts, heading tipping back. His tongue explores your body, led by your moans and whimpers. “Oh, fuck,” you breathe out as his tongue flicks against your clit. “Like that, please.”

Brock doesn’t stop, your head spinning with pleasure. Your fingers curl into the duvet on the bed, breathing heavy. “Fuck, Brock, please, I-,” you stammer. “I’m close,” you tell him, desperate for him not to stop. A moment later you feel your muscles tensing, hot pleasure rippling through your body as you cry out in pleasure. 

He moves up onto the bed, hovering over you as he presses his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue, a strangled moan leaving your lips. “I want you inside me,” you whisper when you pull back, desperately trying to catch your breath. 

You watch Brock get off the bed, propping yourself up to watch him pull open the drawer in the nightstand. He takes out a condom, putting it on with record speed. He’s back on the bed just a moment later, his body warm as he hovers over you. “Are you sure?” Brock asks.

“Yes,” you reply with an obvious eagerness in your voice. “Please,” you add with a quiet whimper. 

Brock moves himself closer, reaching down to guide himself into you. His movements are slow, gentle. Bringing his hand from between your bodies he runs it along your thigh, pulling you closer as he thrusts deeper inside you. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, head spinning. Your fingers dig into Brock’s back, pulling him down closer to you. Between heavy breaths you exchange messy kisses, punctuated by moans and whimpers.

You can feel your body flushing, your skin red hot under Brock’s touch. His hands slide up your thighs as he straightens his body out. Your hands move up to his torso, fingers roaming up towards his chest, his skin sticky with sweat. 

Brock reaches down quickly, fingers circling around your wrists as he presses them down into the bed above your head. Your breath catches in your throat followed quickly by a string of moans. 

“You like that?” Brock ask, his hips quickening, each thrust seeming a little harder than the last. 

“Yes,” you choke out, nodding eagerly. “You feel so fucking good inside me,” you whisper, eyes locked on Brock. 

Brock groans loudly, letting go of your wrists to lean down to brush his lips against yours. “I’m close,” Brock tells you. His lips are pressing harder to yours, tongues brushing together, sloppy and wet. You bite back a whimper when Brock pulls away, his own quiet moans filling the room a second later. 

His movements slow, pulling himself out of you just a minute later. You watch him leave the room, disappearing into the en-suite bathroom. 

You try to steady your breathing and heart rate while attempting to slow your racing mind. Laying on your back you stare at the shadows creeping up onto the ceiling on the other side of the room. 

“Guess I really gotta keep playing like that now,” Brock says, breaking the silence as he lays back on the bed beside you.

Turning your head to look at him you giggle quietly, your eyes meeting his. You feel his hand grasp at yours, fingers slipping lacing between yours and you squeeze is gently. “Hope it was enough of a congratulations for you.”

Brock chuckles, giving you a nod. “More than enough.”

The silence returns for a moment as you toy with his fingers absentmindedly. “Brock,” you whisper, hesitantly interrupting the silence again. 

“Mhmm?” Brock hums, watching you carefully. 

“What, um, what does this…mean?” you whisper, voice shaky. “I mean-,” you breathe out, sitting up and pulling the duvet which was bunched halfway down the bed up to cover your bare chest. “Was this just…like, a meaningless, casual hook-up?”

Brock’s fingers brush along your spine, making you jump at the sudden contact. “No,” Brock says, quiet but definitive. “Is that, uh, what you want or-?”

“No,” you interrupt, angling your body to look back at Brock, watching him carefully. “But, um, what does that mean then?”

Brock slides his hand across your back to grasp at your hip, pulling you back down next to him. Rolling over you prop yourself up on your elbow, your free hand resting on his chest. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“To have me in your bed naked?” you joke, a playful smile on your lips. 

Brock chuckles, running his hand up your forearm. “Well, yeah, but I mean…like…us, together, in bed like…this.”

“So exactly what I just said?” 

“No,” Brock groans, shaking his head. “I’ve just, you know-.”

“Use your words,” you tease. 

“I love you,” Brock blurts. 

His words catch you by surprise and you pull back slightly, eyes narrowing. Did he really mean that? Obviously it wasn’t just love in a friendly way…not after what just happened. But it was so sudden. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe you just hadn’t picked up on anything that would lead up to this. 

“Okay, I used my words,” Brock says, voice filled with apprehension. “Maybe, uh, you could also say something?”

“Are you, um, are you…serious about that?”

“Yeah,” Brock breathes out, sitting up to lean against the headboard. “But, um, if you don’t…if you’re not, you know, in the same boat or whatever, we could just forget I said anything, I don’t want-.”

Quickly fumbling closer you slide your arms around him, bodies pressing together. “I don’t want to forget about it, Brock,” you whisper, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I feel the same way.”

Brock swallows heavily, his eyes bouncing from your lips back to your eyes. He looks like he’s trying to think of a response, something, anything to say. The room is quiet, your bodies so close you could feel his chest rising with each breath, hearing his quiet exhales. Brock lets the words escape him, opting to pull you closer, pressing his lips to yours again. It’s different this time, it’s slow, it’s passionate, it’s full of years of feelings and longing. It’s perfect. 

[cuteandhughesy]

WHICH nhl players do you guys want to see me write for in the new year that I haven’t yet written for ?

IF there are other players not in the list that I HAVENT written about who you want to see in the new year, send me a message

[nycbaby21]

Brock Boeser Imagine

prompt: blind date with Brock

word count: 1,372

“No Quinn I’m sure he is a great guy. It’s just I’m not really sure about all of this. Ya know going on a date with some guy I don’t know,” I sigh while grabbing the orange juice from him and placing it in the fridge. “What do you wanna know,” he asks grabbing a bundle of grapes and popping one of them into his mouth. “Is he getting hounded like I am right now,” I turn to look at the defensemen sitting on my countertop. “Petey is at his place now,” he smirks holding out a grape for me. I roll my eyes and keep putting up my groceries. Quinn continues trying to sell me on the idea of a blind date.

Not too far away in an apartment downtown, two blonde men are having a very similar conversation. “Petey I wish you and Quinn would chill out on this whole date thing. I’m fine,” Brock uttered turning his attention back to the game. The Swede shakes his head and pauses the game yet again. Brock throws his controller down, knowing the two will never finish this game. He sinks back into the couch and stares at his friend. 

“Boes I hate to break it to you but Quinn has been on more dates than you recently,” Elias points out. Thinking there was no way that was true, he let his face fall realizing his friend was right, it had been a really long time. “Okay you can tell Quinn to set it up,” he says shaking his head while doing it. Petey lets a small smile grace his face while unpausing the game killing Brock's character, who still hadn’t picked back up his controller.

Smoothing down the front of my dress, I do a turn in the mirror giving myself one final look over. All I knew about this date was it was at some fancy restaurant downtown and I was meeting him there at 7. After hours of trying on different outfits, I finally decided on a simple little black dress with the shortest heels that I owned. Throwing on some jewelry and a touch of makeup and calling it a day. Huffing out a breath I walk into my living room finding the two Canucks players on my couch eating a bowl of popcorn each. “Damn Y/n,” Quinn exclaims eyes running down my body and then back up. “Good damn or bad damn,” I ask nervously, in all honesty, it had been a minute since I had gone out. “Good, very good,” Petey finishes his thought. “Okay well, I guess I’m out of here. If you guys leave before I get back please lock up,” I say as I rush out of the door. 

I end up fast walking up to the restaurant due to the chill in the air. I had gone for style over comfort and went jacketless, which was my own dumb fault in Vancouver in the early spring. My heels clicking on the sidewalk alert the tall blonde man leaning against the wall right outside the door. He quickly raises his head up and we lock eyes. He walks towards me closing the distance between us. I couldn’t help but silently thank Quinn and Petey for forcing this. “Wow you look really beautiful,” he blurted out then a light dusting of blush spread across his cheeks. “Thank you. You look really nice too,” I say softly sporting a matching flushed face. “Should we head inside,” he asks ushering us into the building.

We were surrounded by the hustle and bustle and the stuffy atmosphere, it was almost too much. My eyes had been looking over the menu and I couldn’t control the bored expression on my face. I felt so out of place here, like snotty customers were looking down on me. I slowly lower the menu and see the same look on Brock’s face. A small laugh escapes my lips and I quickly slap my hand over my mouth. He looks up, blue eyes lighting up and eyebrows furrowed. Rude looks came from several different people at my disruption of the “quiet and calming” vibe of the place. “I am so sorry. I just couldn’t help it, you look just as bored as I do,” I smiled watching him visibly relax some. “Oh thank God. I thought that I was the only one. I know a really good burger spot a couple roads over,” I don’t even let him say another word as I grab his hand and pull him out of there.

We walked out laughing like hyenas, which resulted in even more weird looks. Normally stares from strangers would make my skin crawl but something about being with Brock made me not care. We settled on a bench in the nearby park. “One for the lady and one for me,” Brock smiles passing out the food. I reach over and steal a fry from him. “Hey no ma’am, you have your own,” he tries to sound serious but his laugh tells me he is just joking. The wind blew a little harsh and I shivered. He stripped off his jacket and placed it around my shoulders. When he did our faces were so close, if I wanted to I could have leaned over and kissed him. I think he thought the same because his eyes glanced down to my lips and then quickly back up. Pulling back we both smile widely. 

The two of us walk down the sidewalk towards my apartment. Every so often I feel his fingers brush against mine. Reaching over I interlock our fingers and give our hands a little swing. As we get closer to my place, I notice the boy’s cars still outside. “Well, this is me,” I say stopping but showing no sign of leaving and dropping our hands. “I had a really good time tonight Y/n,” he says giving our hands a squeeze. “Me too, I’d really like to do it again sometime,” I expressed looking up and him and smiling. He slowly leaned down gauging if I wanted the same thing. When I showed no sign of stopping him, he quickly connected our lips together. It was the sweetest and most passionate kiss I had ever had. My hands fly up to the back of his neck while his hands land lightly on my hips.

A buzzing sound interrupts us and we slowly pull back.I pull out my phone to read the text message from Quinn, and Brock gets a similar text from Petey. Laughing we show each other our phones,” You know those two are probably all smushed up against the windows spying on us.” I laugh at him knowing that he is actually right. “Wanna come up with me,” I suggest raising my eyebrows. He nods his head letting me lead the way. I unlock the door and we see the two scrambling to sit back down and look natural. “Are you two actually serious,” I laugh holding onto Brock’s forearm and leaning over to slip off the heels. “You guys look awfully close,” Quinn points out.

“Yeah no thanks to you two,” Brock states while sitting down on the chair near the couch his teammates currently occupied. “Excuse me,” Petey’s eyes snap back and forth between us. I walk back into the room after quickly changing into some sweats and a shirt. I round the corner and sit on the arm of the chair Brock was sitting in, his arms slipping around my waist holding me in place. “That place you guys picked was terrible. I swear if we had stayed there we wouldn’t be sitting so close right now,” I laugh pointing my finger at the two of them. “That place was great. It’s where all my first dates are,” Quinn defends himself. We all share a look and laugh at the Hughes boy. “Quinny maybe that is why you don’t get very many second dates,” Brock points out.

The four of us hang out for a little while later, Petey and Quinn arguing about who is gonna be the best man all while the two of us sit happily in our shared chair so thankful the goofballs bullied us into the date.

[snorky]

The Water Is Rusted, The Air Is Unclean, And There For A Second, I Feel Free

Hey y’all! After some consideration, I wrote a second part to ‘Cause This Is A Wasteland, My Only Retreat, in which this story takes place in the Defy The Stars!AU. The title is still based off of the song “Hell Above” by Pierce The Veil. I needed to give Quinn a good ending, and this might be it, and Brock Boeser and Elias Petterson make a guest appearance. I hope you all enjoy this fic! Take care of yourself!

Pairing: Platonic!Brock Boeser x F!Reader, Quinn Hughes x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Mentions of major character death, Sci-fi weaponry, Angst, Not too proofread

Part One

—

—

Time passed. It had to. The universe couldn’t just stop because her best friend was lost during a battle. She lived without Quinn since he passed, but it just wasn’t the same. The beautiful sky of Genesis seemed to lack that bright blue. The soft green grass didn’t seem soft, nor green any longer.

It seemed as if she mourned endlessly during the night, her tears would bring him back to Genesis, rather than the cold, bitter air of space where he took his last breath. But, she knew it wasn’t possible. With the lack of technology in Genesis and a strict set of morals, the idea of Quinn being resurrected seemed blasphemous.

Her life eventually had to go on without him, despite the thought of that making her heart ache beyond any possible measurement. She continued to work hard in the Genesis military, dedicating the majority of her work, time, and energy to trying to put an end to the war. All while doing so, she dedicated it to living for Quinn.

She tried her best to see the world in all the bright colors she used to. She spent time with his family, mourning, and reminiscing about his life with them. Every day, when she wasn’t serving at the base, she spent time with his family and friends. Just like he wanted her to.

When she got promoted to Captaincy, she wished Quinn had been by her side, and maybe even being promoted along with her. He had the skill, the passion, and all the qualifications to make it, but he didn’t have enough time.

On one particular night, the winter air seemed much harsher than it was. The snow fell constantly, with the wind howling in her ears, her vision was slightly impaired. Trudging through the snow, she wandered towards the bridge Quinn and she always hung out at.

Memories came flooding back once she spotted the little bridge that arched over the frozen river. Slowly walking towards it, her footprints were left behind in the snow, trailing behind her. She sat down on the bridge, the cold snow brushing up against her, stars gleaming above her.

The stars were something she could easily get lost in, the large multiplicity of them made her mind wander endlessly. It was something both Quinn and she enjoyed doing, counting the stars and laying in the grass in his backyard. Eventually, as they grew older, they were both teased relentlessly if they remained in his yard, and so they wandered to other places in town where it was just the both of them, together.

She remembers his laughter as if she heard it yesterday, the way his eyes crinkled, and the way he smiled proudly, yet she wanted to hear it so desperately as if she had forgotten. 

Tears formed in her eyes, the cold, bitter air pricking at them like shrapnel from an explosion. Blinking, her warm tears rolled down her face, a stark contrast to the freezing temperatures, and she broke out into a sob.

Her bare fingers started to go numb as she idly drew shapes in the snow, a distraction from her thoughts. “I miss you so much.” Her words came out like a quiet mumble as she sniveled, her body shaking with each breath.

The night remained silent but listened to her as the wind seemed to whistle in the snow. A faint crunch of snow sounded, her attention immediately drawn to it. Slowly, she started to remember that some animals could’ve been present, but then again, which?

No elk nor bear should’ve been in the area, even if it was past sundown. It was a light footstep she recalled, and so those creatures were outruled. Frozen with fear, she made no quick movement in order to avoid drawing attention to herself, although she was sure it would’ve seen her anyway.

Her eyes scanned the trees beside the river, searching for—hoping for a lack of a creature. Time seemed to slow, creeping upon her gently, and she could feel the grasp of it. Between two birch trees, a figure stood there, slightly hunched over as if it didn’t want to be seen.

From what she could tell, it had dark hair compared to its complexion, and it looked eerily familiar. Almost as if she could recall each little detail with precision. The snow never stopped falling, distorting anything that was far away enough, and so she kept her guard up.

Only after a few seconds of her noticing the creature, it seemed to run away, snow crunching beneath its feet rather quickly as if it noticed her. Color drained from her face, an empty-bad gut feeling settling within her.

Once the footsteps of the creature seemed distant enough, she ran back towards her home, never once looking back in fear if she spotted something. Through the winding trees, blurry snow, and aggressive winds, the run seemed much more difficult, and she felt much more vulnerable than she should’ve.

As she arrived home, she didn’t feel any safer for some odd reason. Her training allowed her to be attentive, much more than the average person, and to the point of her feeling an unsettling pair of eyes on her.

Quietly and quickly, she made her way to her room, changing out of her winter gear into ordinary clothes. She lay in her bed, mind racing about what she could’ve seen in the woods. It couldn’t have been Quinn, despite how similar it looked. Her mind must’ve been playing tricks on her.

Morning came and she was called back onto duty for Genesis. She packed her bag with some essential belongings, clothes, and a journal, and then parted ways with her parents and siblings.

It was almost a routine thing, despite how serious it was considering she had a possibility of not returning home. Her parents understood deeply, especially after seeing the Hughes family after the loss of Quinn.

When she arrived at the base, it seemed much busier than usual. Soldiers made their way to the station that connected Genesis to outside of orbit. Commanders, Captains, and Generals gave tasks and orders. It was all much more hectic.

“Captain,” a man with a bold posture and golden hair spoke. “Welcome back.” He smiled.

“Thank you, Commander Boeser.” She smiled back. “It’s nice seeing you again.”

“And you as well.”

They both shook hands, a formal greeting between them. She knew Boeser through Quinn since they both worked in the same department from time to time. As time went on, they all grew closer together, laughing at inside jokes, and sharing their dreams and passions.

Making their way down the corridor of the building toward the main control room, the hall seemed as vibrant as the outside sky. All Genesis government buildings were full of greenery and life, reflecting on the planet itself, and natural light shone through the clear glass ceilings.

When they made it to the main control room, they were greeted by another commander.

“There you are, Commander Boeser and Captain. Welcome.”

“Good morning, Commander Petterson.” They both said in unison.

“Lovely seeing the both of you here, despite the unruly circumstances of the weather,” he spoke lightly. “Unfortunately, we need the both of you working out of orbit for the next week.”

They both nodded in understanding, accepting their duties and their responsibilities given. The weight on Genesis seemed to be on their shoulders, but they wouldn’t let that get to them.

War continued to be rampant between Genesis and Earth, the fight never ceasing. It felt like a lost cause, but nonetheless, they continued to fight with all their forces. Protecting their world from the greedy palms of Earth that desired their pristine global conditions was their top priority. Genesis refused to succumb to the temporary desires Earth fell to.

“Will you both accept the risk and responsibility to lead the military?” Commander Petterson spoke, breaking her out of her thoughts.

They both spoke in unison, similar to a chant within a cathedral. “Yes, Commander.”

“We’ll contact you when you both arrive at the station.” He nodded. His eyes seemed darker than usual, tiredness and exhaustion evident.

Both Commander Boeser and she walked out of the main control room, back into the bright corridor, and towards the bay that held the small vessel that carried soldiers out onto the station outside of orbit.

They both changed from their on-planet uniforms to their exosuits, and waited in the lounge, a sense of discomfort filling the air. New and veteran soldiers waited in the same area, but it was evident who was who, where the rookies fidgeted nervously, and the veterans settled into their own routine.

The signal blared, startling a few people, and they stood in a single file line. As she boarded the vessel, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. She knew that this could’ve been her last trip, but she so badly wanted to go against it.

Slowly, they took off and headed towards the station, the green planet of Genesis fading away, being replaced by tiny dots of stars that scattered the ether. When they landed at the station, everyone was ordered to move from the vessel onto the station. Everyone drifted from their seats and through the tunnel that connected the two ships together.

Zero-gravity was always something that fascinated her, the idea that something could just float so effortlessly, almost flying through the air gracefully. It was one of the few things that Quinn and she talked about often when they were younger. They had a shared love for many things, but especially that.

Once everyone had boarded the station, they remained in the main area as the tunnel to the vessel closed. It had windows from the ceiling to the floor, showcasing the vastness of space just from that one area of the ship. 

She settled into her own routine that consisted of breathing deeply, relaxing her muscles, and taking time to allow herself to not feel too pressured. Being the Captain of a specific fleet meant a lot to her, especially because she wanted this since she was a little girl, playing pretend spaceship with Quinn in his backyard, running freely in the hills. She had to lead with minimal fear, with courage and confidence, she had to be brave for Quinn.

Waving her hand and signaling to the operator to activate the artificial gravity, the lights switched from a soft, bluish hue to a green one, which notified the soldiers about it and allowed them to brace themselves before the gravity kicked in.

When everyone landed, she started to give orders. “Alright.” Her voice held a strong confidence, and yet she could feel it waver slightly. “I need those of Fleet Two-Dash-Seventy to head to their fighter ships. Make sure to check your systems and engines, as well as your exosuits and helmets along with your vitals.”

They all made their way down the corridor that connected the main area to the bay that held the individual fighter ships, boots stomping against the ground. It sounded like the beat of a drum, thumping similarly to a heartbeat.

She glanced over to Commander Boeser, noticing the stiffness of his posture. He reminded her of when she first became Captain, nervous and afraid of making a mistake, the pressure seemingly beyond possible limitations it seemed.

“Easy there Commander’.” She chuckled. “You’ll lead your fleet just fine,”

He nodded in response and gave her a soft smile. “For Quinn.”

They both knew Quinn since they all joined the Genesis military in the same year, graduating at the top of their classes together. The three of them all strived to reach some level of authority or leadership, not for the power, but for hope of a better future. They all wanted to make a change and leave an impact behind.

Making their way to the bay, they started the engines of their ships and got in. It felt comforting, in the way that something routine or familiar was. The danger was always lingering in the atmosphere, awaiting for the right moment to arise, but the feeling of knowing how to handle it dissipated it.

As the ships launched out into space, the stars seemed to blur past them, a streak of white dots and fuzzy colors. She would never get tired of the beautiful view. It was always something she had dreamed of seeing, the mesmerizing stars and colors of the vast space. 

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, setting her up for readiness in the state of battle as she gripped the yoke of her fighter ship. She navigated through the small asteroids and debris easily, like second nature in her soul, and she felt minimal panic or unease. At least, for the most part. Once her systems spotted a fleet of mechs approaching, she knew she had to take action.

Pressing the button that activated the communications system, her hands showed no sign of unsteadiness. “Notifying all those in this area within the Genesis fleet. We have located a large number of mechs within the area. Proceed with caution.” Multiple ships notified her with positive affirmations, alerting her that they received her message. She set the gear of her ship to a higher level, allowing her to fly with more power in less amount of time, and then repeated her message.

Steering her ship in a downward motion to avoid a blast from a mech fighter, she knew it was going to be a much tougher fight. What scared her more was that this fight resembled nothing similar to the fight that took Quinn away from her. It was much worse than that.

Ship after ship came flying by, dangerously close to her own, and she reached for the communications system once more. “More mech fighters within the area, proceed with caution!”

“Copy that Captain,” Boeser spoke.

As a mech fighter flew directly at her, she quickly rolled over, dodging the mech by a mere sliver of space. She held her breath and prayed to some higher power that there wasn’t a Genesis fighter right behind her who was unaware of what was to come after she dodged the mech.

 Another mech fighter came hurling towards her at a rapid speed, and she fired at it instinctually, causing it to split into tiny pieces, drifting apart like stars.

It always caused her internal turmoil when she fought from time to time, considering how much of a human likeness the mechs had. A tactic beyond manipulative, and yet she still fought with all of her passion and might.

Turning her ship around a large chunk of debris, she spotted a chillingly familiar fighter ship, the blue and green stripes bold against the silver surface. It couldn’t be him. He wasn’t here.

And there he was. His messy brown hair stuck to his forehead in his helmet, gentle and angelic as ever. The soft roughness of stubble on his jaw. The look of sheer determination and confidence he always held. Every bit of him in the highest glory.

Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her. She couldn’t lose focus now, especially since she was in the middle of a major fight.

Gripping the yoke with her hands, she swiftly navigated her ship beyond what looked to be Quinn’s, and towards the fighter mechs. As she was doing so, she logged an unknown ship within the area to the database, and informed others through the communications system about it.

“Attention! Unidentified ship within the area—” The sound of other Genesis fighters logging in this information onto their ship could be heard, movements almost frantic. “Keep on high alert for a silver fighter ship, blue and green diagonal stripes on the side.”

She knew the number of his ship by heart, the double-digit of forty-three that he logged onto his ship every time. And yet, her ship wouldn’t register his number as recognizable, which was odd considering that each Genesis fighter ship had to have their number on display at all times.

Did he intentionally hide the number? Maybe it wasn’t really him. All these thoughts bubbled in her mind, causing her to swirl in light nausea before she was snapped back into reality.

“Commander Boeser speaking, are you active?”

“Yes Commander Boeser. Affirmative.” She messed up and lost her focus for a moment. It could’ve been devastating, but she was lucky this time.

“Copy that.”

Her eyes drifted beside her for a brief moment, and she caught the familiar ship in her vision again. Keeping her focus on the view in front of her, more mechs started to drift in, and she fired at each with precision.

As soon as the amount of mech fighters present in the area started to decrease, she quickly called an order through the communications system. “All Genesis fighters, head back to the station. Fighting has begun to cease and we advise you to head back to the station,”

Multiple fighters responded quickly in affirmation and from what she could tell on the navigational systems, no casualties have occurred during this fight, despite how heavy it was. A small smile formed on her face, in both pride for the fleet and gratefulness for their strength.

The fighter ships flew back towards the station as Commander Boeser and she kept track of them, taking into account each and every Genesis fighter ship. It was beautiful seeing all the simple, yet pretty design each fighter chose for their ship as it flew past like vibrant shooting stars.

Once all the ships started to dock in the bay, she followed behind them, checking one final time to make sure that all ships were in the bay, afraid of abandoning a miscounted one.

“Don’t you miss me, angel?” A familiar, soft voice spoke through the communications system.

That couldn’t be possible, no. The communications system was strictly between Genesis fighters, specifically coded that way in case of an emergency. But she was so sure that was his voice. The voice she had longed to hear for ages it seemed.

She cleared her throat and spoke, nervousness wavering in her voice. “What is your name?” Her hands shook slightly as she held the radio, unsure if she should flee and return to the station, or stay and allow her curiosity to get a hold of her.

His voice lured her in, like a siren’s song. “Please don’t tell me that you forgot me, please,” he pleaded. His voice sounded so broken, most likely from the hijacked communications system, but she knew that wasn’t the only reason.

“This is Commander Boeser speaking, are you active?”

“Yes, Commander—” Her communications system glitched for a brief moment, evident in the dull hum in the background with her voice cutting out briefly. “My communications system appears to be malfunctioning—”

“Report back to the station as soon as you can, okay Captain?”

“Yes, Commander Boeser.”

Her navigation system was still working properly, with signals being able to be sent and received, but her communications system seemed to struggle slightly.

“Meet me at the bridge, our bridge,” Quinn—maybe Quinn—spoke.

—

As soon as she was released from her week of out-of-orbit service, she headed back home to her parents, the familiarity being something that she always welcomed with open arms. Her parents and siblings greeted her with kindness and warmth, something that was needed during the cold and dark winter.

When they finished dinner together, laughing and chatting, savoring the crumbs and bits of life, she excused herself and left, promising to be back soon. Even if she was an adult now, she still felt the responsibility to not worry her parents to the point of sickness as a habit of growing up.

The air remained cold, just like the night she trudged out into the snow to see the bridge again. Midnight sky hung in the air, barely illuminating the ground below. Everything remained the same, almost pristine and untouched as a fresh layer of snow had fallen in the past week.

It crunched underneath her boots with each step she took, breaking the silent night. She approached the bridge, still the same as she remembered from her childhood, and sat on it, overlooking the frozen river.

Snow whirled around her, drifting in the air as it fell to the ground softly, unlike raindrops that splattered. The wind continued to howl, but it seemed quieter tonight.

Snow crunched behind her, a sound that broke the silence again. She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. A promise was a promise.

“You’re here.” The familiar voice spoke, a tone of surprise lacing his voice.

“I never wanted to leave.”

The snow crunched as he walked towards her, sitting on the bridge beside her. He faced the river, his expression a tired-sad-weary dream as he watched the snow fall from the sky. Silence drifted between them, slowly melting in with the snow that danced in the air. He looked so familiar and yet there seemed to be something that was missing from him.

“You didn’t forget me, right?” He kept his gaze forward, his head not daring to turn and face her.

The silence spoke more words than the both of them, expressing a ‘I didn’t forget you, but you don’t seem familiar to me any longer’ that fell from her lips without saying a word. 

She turned to him instead, analyzing his expression, trying to decipher and decode his words. “Quinn.” She spoke his name carefully, as if she wanted to test if it still felt right on her tongue, if it still felt right to say. “I missed you.”

What did she miss? She experienced all that she had, but Quinn, where was he when she experienced those things?

“Where were you?” Her words came out sharper than she wanted, similar to a mother who cares, worries too much about the whereabouts of her loved ones.

He moved his eyes towards her gaze carefully, and as quickly as he did, he looked away in shame. “I should’ve come to you sooner.”

“Tell me about it,”

“I didn’t die.” He stated this easily, as if it was just pure, simple, undeniable fact. It opposed what she saw with her own eyes. It opposed the fact that his navigation and communications systems disconnected as soon as the blast hit. “I escaped, barely.”

All Genesis fighter ships were equipped with an emergency system, where if manually activated, the cockpit of the ship could disconnect from the larger component that held the weaponry of the ship, leaving the ship defenseless.

“I made it away from the area of the fight, but I latched on to a mech carrier ship, and drifted back to Earth.” Regret dripped from his tongue as he spoke, his palms cradling his head as he looked down in shame.

She wanted to ask him so many questions, but it seemed improper to do so at this time. However, she had one question that she so badly wanted to ask. “Why did you not return to Genesis?”

“I don’t know.” His voice was barely above a whisper, the howling winds almost overtaking it. “I don’t think it was safe to try and fly back to Genesis, considering the amount of conflict going on in that area and where I was.” His fingers traced shapes and patterns into the snow beside him as he talked. “And so I latched and stayed low.”

Getting up from beside him, she started to walk away, he watched her as she did. His heart sunk, twisted, whatever it could to try and understand what went wrong, and he knew well what went wrong.

“Come,” she said quietly. “You need rest, honey.”

His head perked up at the sound of the nickname, noticing how it sounded so perfect, and he wanted to hear it more. He followed her as they both walked to her home, the one that neighbored his own with his family. It was a quiet walk, the midnight sky offering little to no light, and they were only guided by the memory of the path.

Walking beside her now, he slowly reached for her hand, and held it carefully, and she allowed him to do so, giving it a gentle squeeze once he did. His hands felt warm compared to hers, and it was a comforting feeling, knowing that he was, and will remain, beside her.

When they both stepped into the warm, cozy home, they quietly made their way to her room, dimly lit with a small table lamp, and he sat down on her bed.

It was the same as he remembered as a young boy, her collection of comic books and novels on her desk, paper stars hanging from the ceiling, her favorite stuffed animals sitting on her bed, it was a reflection of who she was.

“Go take a warm shower and then relax in here once you’re done.” She looked at him, noticing that he was wearing the base layers that he wore under his exosuit. Her heart felt so upset at seeing him like this, broken, lost, and most likely scared. “I have some spare clothes that I borrowed from you a few years ago,” she trailed off. “I’ll grab them for you.”

She walked to her closet, grabbing a neatly folded pile of t-shirts and gym shorts, all slightly large on her since they were Quinn’s. When she handed it to him, the look in his eyes was almost, grateful, and yet it was teary-eyed and sad. “Thanks.” His words were quiet, but the mood he expressed was far from silence. “Thanks for not forgetting,” his voice cracked slightly.

Turning around before she made her way out into the hall, she gave him a sad smile, “I could never forget you. Never in my lifetime.”

[snoopyhughes]

we don't have to talk about it; b. boeser

Well I wasn't sure if this would be done in time, but it is and it is probably the most proud I have ever been of a piece of writing I've made. I did not get a perfect bingo but I chose trade angst, friends to lovers, playlists as a love language, "it's always going to be you," and summer romance. This is some sickly sweet soulmates fluff accompanied by some sickly sweet playlists. There is a bit of NSFW mentions towards the begin but no actual smut. For this reason, 18+ readers only please ☺️

Happy birthday sweet Demi @wyattjohnston! 💖 I am so lucky to be in this community with you and wanted to write you something in return for all you do for our community of hockeyblr writers.

I want to preface this by saying that this is probably a slightly unrealistic version of Brock, and that is okay. This is a work of fiction. Do I think Brock listens to boygenius? Definitely not. But for the sake of this story, he would. As always, I did some research for this fic and so the programs at both UND and UBC that Harper completes are real programs/degrees!

Also; this is the inspiration picture I had for Harper's tattoo (photo from Pinterest). If it isn't clear in the story, I imagine Harper to have a lot of tattoos. I imagine her having a lot of small tattoos all over her body. Additionally, I tried my best to give Harper no other physical descriptors other than her having tattoos, so you all have the freedom to imagine her in any way that you possibly could want to, which I think is a beautiful thing. She/her pronouns are used. 2.6k words plus 3 small playlists ☺️

~~~~~~~

"We don't have to talk about it," Harper whispered to Brock as she slipped out from under his arm, the warm covers forcefully removed from his body. Brock shuddered at the implications of that.

His best friend. His lifeline, his biggest supporter. Somehow, he had ended up in bed with her, swollen lips and hair astray. He wondered if it meant absolutely everything to her, the way it did to him. He wondered if she would lay up for days, trying to forget the way her lips felt on his, the smell of her hair, the curl of her fingers around his.

"He's just lost," Harper told her best friend Amelie that weekend over cocktails. She was convinced that Amelie's eyes were going to pop out of her head when Harper whispered to her that she had ended up in bed with her childhood best friend. "Harper, I don't know how you can say that. It's your best friend, for Christ's sake. This isn't just anybody. Everyone in Vancouver is dying to get where you just were." Amelie ranted to Harper, trying to relay the implications of what the two of them had done. "Things between you two may never be the same." She exasperated and Harper rolled her eyes.

"Please, he is just overwhelmed. He feels very out of his element with the trade rumors and just wanted some safety and normalcy. It's not like it was romantic. Trust me, there was no aftercare or lit candles or rose petals." Harper sighed dramatically and Amelie tried to pretend like she believed her. Meanwhile, Harper tried to forget what it felt like when his fingers ghosted through her hair afterwards, when he brought her water and wiped her down gently. She tried to forget the way her heart beat out her chest at the way he held her afterwards. That she had to force him to let her go. Amelie shook her head and sipped her cocktail, wondering if Harper was foolish enough to think that she believed her.

Brock was avoiding Harper. That much was obvious. It would be more obvious if Harper wasn't doing the same thing to Brock. It had been a week since they slept together with no contact, probably the longest since their only real fight in freshman year of college when Brock left for an out of town game without saying bye to Harper. If Harper had known better when she slipped into bed after too many cocktails that night with Amelie, she would have stopped herself from opening one of her biggest secrets.

Harper had been making monthly playlists of Brock for as long as she could remember. In her Spotify, they go back to 2018. She thinks it was from the only time in their life when they were separated, when Harper was finishing her degree at UND and Brock was playing across the continent in Vancouver. It was a piece of her that she had always loved to do. It felt like a sacred part of their friendship, despite Brock knowing nothing about it.

If the amaretto sours weren't fogging her brain over, she would've done a double take at sending Brock her playlist titled "Brock: May 2023." But she didn't. She just sent it.

Brock was in bed, trying to fall asleep for the night when his ringtone for Harper went off. He shot up in bed, the reality of not talking to her for a week setting in. He scrambled for his phone, and found the playlist attached with a simple message: "I miss you." He was sure that she was out drinking with Amelie, just like they did one Saturday every month. With no judgement, he remembered that she had already gone out for their get together this month, but that was the last thing on his mind as he clicked on the playlist.

The playlist had a cover, just as all of hers did. A picture of Brock smiling wide after a game that he remembered her taking at the beginning of the month. He knew the ignoring was mutual, but his heart started to sink when he thought of just how much it could have been affecting her.

"I miss you more," he replied back without even clicking on the playlist. When he did, he found out that he didn't recognize many of the songs, but they would soon become the soundtrack to the rest of May for him. The dark screen of Spotify glared up at him, the tracks listed:

cool about it by boygenius

Graceland Too by Phoebe Bridgers

Radio by Lana Del Rey

Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift

Labyrinth by Taylor Swift

I saw you in a dream by the Japanese House

Brock simply pressed play on the playlist and let it hum him to sleep, his heart constricting at the way that the songs related to them and how they made him feel.

~~~

Harper knew Brock like the back of her hand. She knew what made him smile and what made him front. She knew what made him feel proud and what bruised his ego. Naturally, she knew what kind of music he would like to listen to. And she knew that Brock had probably never willingly turned on a song from any of the artists that were featured on the May playlist. But she knew him. And she knew what he needed to hear.

So when he sent her a picture of the lyric "you know how much I hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back, just like that" from Labyrinth by Taylor Swift, she didn't flinch when she soon saw the caption that went with it: "how do you know exactly what I need to hear. I don't think I've ever related to a lyric more." She smiled at their affinity for each other. She was however surprised, when a Spotify link of his own came through.

Titled: Harper, May 2023.

not strong enough by boygenius

Cleopatra by the Lumineers

End of Beginning by Djo

Don't Give Up on Me by Zach Bryan

The Archer by Taylor Swift

"I see I've inspired a bit of your music taste," Harper responded with a cheeky smile. She was certain that he had never heard a boygenius song before she sent him one. "You see right through me," he responded back cheekily, her cheeks burning. Harper stared at the playlist in awe when she realized that he was in fact referring to The Archer. Before she could even think twice about it, she was drafting an email to her tattoo artist about getting the tattoo for "The Archer" that she had been wanting for months.

It seemed that a week after that conversation, with few in between, that Brock was also doing things before he could think twice about them. When he had started the trek home from his night out with the guys, they all did a double take when he asked Quinn to drop him at Harper's. He hadn't told anyone besides Petey about their sleeping together, but they could all tell that something was going on between the two childhood best friends.

"Are you sure that's a good idea bud?" Elias asked, clapping his hand on his best friend's shoulder. He knew the status of the friendship at that point and he could also recognize that Brock was beyond intoxicated. "Yeah, we're good now. Just a blip. She's expecting me." He smiled his most convincing smile at Elias and he seemed to fall for it. "Alright bud, well if she throws you out screaming give me or Quinner a call and we can take you back to your place?" He offered and Brock nodded, his feet carrying him quickly towards the door. At this point, Brock was eagerly trying to make his way to his best friend who he hadn't seen in weeks. It had now been almost three weeks since they had seen each other. Brock was soon to be heading home to Minnesota, and Harper would soon be following him. He would wait until the school year was over so he could help Harper pack up and move back home.

It was never Harper's plan to follow Brock to Vancouver, but once she followed him to UND, it seemed inevitable. It became glaringly obvious that the two of them could simply not live without each other. When Harper graduated with her bachelors in Communication Sciences and Disorders, she had already been accepted into the University of British Columbia's Masters program for Audiology and Speech Sciences. After two years in this program, Harper graduated, and got her dream job as a speech pathologist in a high school not far from her apartment.

When she first let Brock know of her plans, he was living with a teammate. He insisted that he could get out of the lease and that he wanted to live with her so that she wasn't by herself. Harper had already found another girl in the same program study as her that she would live in a nicer apartment with. She was lucky that she never had to worry about money. Both of her parents had good paying jobs, and they always supported her choice to be with Brock in Vancouver, seeing as Harper's mom's best friend is Brock's mom.

Brock made the familiar descent up to the 4th floor to Harper's apartment, typing in the code and letting himself in. It was just past 1. Harper liked to stay up late, and her roommate Carmen had gone back home to Edmonton for the summer, meaning he knew he was okay sneaking in this late.

"Harps?" He called out, heading towards her bedroom. He slowly opened the door and found her laying on her side in her bed. Her bedside lamp was still on, letting him know that she had just dozed off and hadn't actually fallen asleep for the night. Brock's eyes furrowed in on the angry red skin that lined the obviously new tattoo that she was sporting on the back of her left upper arm. A bow and arrow, with ivy detailing now adorned her arm. Small cursive words were also laced within the bow. Brock couldn't make them out from where he was standing, but he didn't have to to know that they were something from the Taylor Swift song. His heart constricted at the mere thought of that, that something that they had shared amongst each other was now permanently on her body. It would be with her for the rest of her life.

As the soft pads of his fingertips reached out to touch it, Harper shot awake, startled by the sudden touch. "Just me, honey," he rasped out. "You scared the shit out of me," she gasped, rolling over to face him but careful not to put too much pressure on the new ink she was sporting. "What are you doing here?" She mumbled, eyes squinting to adjust to the lamp light.

"I can't do this anymore," he sighed as he sat on the end of her bed. "I love you, Harper. And I want everyone to know it. I want you to know it." He confessed. Her eyes widened, sitting up to move towards him. "You're drunk." She muttered, not making eye contact with him. She knew how this would end. She had imagined it so many times, a scenario where she was able to be with her best friend, as she had wanted for so long. But they all ended the same way all of her past relationships ended: heartbreak, agony, trauma.

"I am, but I know I love you more than I could ever begin to express. You are the center of my world. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved." His hands were now holding her own, his soft eyes pleading with hers as he reached out to touch her palm. "It's always going to be you, Harper. In every universe. Just tell me you love me and everything will be okay." His blue eyes stared into her own with more passion than she could ever comprehend. Tears welled up in her eyes, and all she could think to do was lean in and kiss Brock with all the love she had had for him since she was 16 years old.

Now at 26, as she held onto him, his steady heartbeat anchoring her to sleep under her ear, she wondered if it could have always been so easy, to love her best friend whole heartedly, and that he would love her the exact same way back. When she felt his fingertips brushing her shoulders gently, a soft hum of "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac coming from his lips, a late addition to her "Brock: May 2023" playlist, she realized she was wrong all along. Being with Brock would never lead her to heartbreak, agony, and trauma. It was Brock. Her Brock. Gentle, warm, soft as a blanket Brock. When he wrapped his arms around her, and she finally felt her lips on his once again, she realized her doubts were always just that: doubts. And with a sweep of his thumb across her cheek, they both pulled back, looking at each other and wondering if they'd feel happiness like this forever.

_____

3 months later

"You guys are absolutely disgusting," Quinn grumbled in fake agony at Brock and Harper who were cuddled up on the couch outside on the patio, watching the sunset at Brock's family lake house. "At least you don't have to share a wall with them!" Petey groaned, causing Brock to shove his shoulder. "You two should just be happy that you don't have to share a room anymore." He tried to deflect but it only caused more bickering from the two, finger pointing about who snored louder and how last summer Quinn took one too many turns sleeping on the bed and Petey had to sleep on the floor an extra night.

Harper snuggled deeper into Brock's shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent. She pulled the blanket up to puddle around her hips: Brock always ran warm, and she always ran cold, so the blanket never came anywhere near him. She reached up to brush a small piece of hair out of Brock's face as she chucked and Elias and Quinn's antics. There was nothing like enjoying the lake with Brock and their loved ones.

Of course she had spent countless days here with Brock. Many people had come through the front door and experienced the magic of the Boeser family lake house and all the memories and warmth that comes with it. But there was truly nothing like this feeling of warmth, joy, the feeling of home. She wondered if she would ever be as happy as she is in this current moment, this current summer.

When she looked up at the man next to her, the man of her dreams, she knew she would always be that happy. He was mid sentence when she couldn't resist the burning urge to kiss her lover on the cheek, leaning up to snuggle into his neck, her cold hands reaching under his sweatshirt, causing him to shiver.

"Could you guys be any more disgustingly cute? Makes me sick," Quinn muttered, taking a sip of his beer. "Yes," the two of them muttered simultaneously. Quinn and Elias just laughed, shaking their hands at the response. They knew the answer, and it wasn't that they really minded. They loved Harper and loved that Brock was happy and not embarrassingly pining after his best friend anymore.

Harper began humming along with "Sad Songs for Sad People" by Megan Moroney, one of her favorites for the month. Now that they were dating, the playlists were still made monthly, which some slight changes. They were now titled "Brock and Harper" with the month and year accompanying it, their two profile pictures snuggled up next to each other at the top. The cover photos were now pictures of the perfect couple.

At this point it was Brock who couldn't resist placing a soft kiss on his lover's lips. As they cuddled together, they both knew that they could never replicate the first summer at the lake as an official couple, but as long as they were together, the happiness, the magic, the joy of that first summer would last forever.

Brock and Harper, August 2023

Sad Songs for Sad People by Megan Moroney

All of the Girls You Loved Before by Taylor Swift

Grapejuice by Harry Styles

Golden Hour by Kacey Musgraves

Since We're Alone by Niall Horan

Lady May by Tyler Childers

Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift

I Hate Love Songs by Kelsea Ballerini

Bad for Business by Sabrina Carpenter

Starting Over by Chris Stapleton

[cuttergauthier]

Spring time

I hope you love it🤍

(These photos do not belong to me, this is all fanfiction)

Bboeser

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Bboeser She makes me the happiest man in the world🤍

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Yourusername i love you so much🤍

_Eliaspettersson Spring time!!!!

_Quinnhughes You two make me feel so single😒

→Yourusername want me to set you up?

lexdemko You two are so cute🥺

→tdemko30 not cuter than us though!

→Bboeser debatable!

Hollyhorvat Miss you guys🥺

→Yourusername we miss you too🥺

J.tmiller9 Y/n did he force you to go on a photoshoot?

→ Yourusername 100%

→Bboeser this was your idea!

→_Eliaspettersson liar i was there when he begged her!

→Bboeser okay fine... but you can’t blame me, spring is the best time for a photoshoot!

Yourusername

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Yourusername He took me on a date and got me flowers, how did i get so lucky🥺🤍

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_quinnhughes Pretty sure he’s the lucky one!

→Bboeser I agree!!

bboeser I love you so much🤍

Nmiller_02 The cutest couple!!!

Lexdemko Can we make it a double date next time?

→Yourusername Yes!!

_Eliaspettersson Prince charming?

→Yourusername yes🥺

Bohorvat i though him well!!

HollyHorvat my favourites🥺

[pcttymcrlecu]

fools rush in (and i've been a fool before)

inspired kind-of by: please don’t say you love me by gabrielle aplin

summary: previous fears, heavy words and a fear of change hinders the spark that turned lilah’s heart into summer despite the long canadian winter.

featuring: lilah j. winters (oc) and the vancouver canucks, namely bo horvat, holly horvat, tulsa horvat, milo boeser and coolie boeser

word count: 4k

warnings: none 

m’s rambles: this is for @antoineroussel​’s winter fic exchange 2023. i was given the joy of writing for @torontoflames​ so i hope you enjoy this c!! i spent so long going back and forth hoping to create something worthy to gift to you! it was surprisingly really difficult - not sure i made it as angsty/hurt-comfort as i wanted to but i still hope you enjoy it!

big big thank you to demi for quelling my fears and uncertainties as well as giving me some much needed second opinion on the fic. it’s so very much appreciated!!

i hope you enjoy this semi-personal piece of work – it’s inspired roughly by a relationship/situation i had when i first went to university, so it was cathartic for me to get this out there. there’s a line in here that this someone said to me, and i had to use it. like it’s something and it’s stuck with me, and i needed to make way for it in something i wrote, and this was apparently it. i wonder if you can figure out which line it is.

Lilah had grown up around athletes her whole life which had led to her interest in working with them as a grown-up. When she moved to university, she had somehow cemented herself a place amongst the college athletes in her year by pure chance which made her life easier in the later years of her university career. As cheesy as it sounds, they’d all become like brothers to her and for that, she was more than happy to have found them.

When a fortunate internship program for her chosen career as a sports psychologist had brought Bo Horvat into her life, she never expected to become an honorary Horvat. It had taken mere moments for Bo to claim the young woman, who at the time was a nervous wreck, as his sister and quickly took her under his wing. She would be lying to say she didn’t appreciate having someone on her side in such a daunting and intimidating situation. He took his responsibilities as a big brother seriously and she couldn’t thank him enough for his kindness.

Knowing Bo Horvat came with knowing the rest of the Vancouver Canucks, thus a whole host of new brothers were introduced to her world. Most of whom were happy to play protective big brother when needed on nights out. Their partners gave her a welcome reprieve from all the testosterone whenever she’d see them around to the point where she began to receive invites to brunches and casual hangouts. It was a whole new circle that she could never have dreamed of being a part of and yet when she’d pinch herself, they didn’t fade, and the woman would be lying if she said it didn’t make her feel all warm inside.

Lilah considered herself a woman of strong will and wasn’t one to swoon over any of the players just because of who they were. She thought she’d created strong defences against their so-called charm considering how long she’d been around the flirtatious tendencies of young athletes and yet here she caught herself floating off the ground slightly at the sight of a certain blond. Her eyes were scanning the scene happening in the garden, bobbing gently with Tulsa in her arms in an attempt to give her parents some free time to just exist as a couple, not parents. She loved taking care of them, being their self-proclaimed favourite aunt, and team barbeques like this gave her all the time in the world to cuddle them.  They also gave her the time to observe the man who had unwittingly swept her right off her feet by simply playing around his pair of canine friends.

When she had first met Brock, it had been during one of her training sessions at Thunderbird Arena when she had been introduced to him. He was one of the players she hadn’t met directly through Bo but rather through the very reason she was even allowed to wander around the players in the first place. They hadn’t spoken much; she was mainly there to observe and had made a vow to stay out of the players' way if she didn’t need to interact with them so as to not bother them. It wasn’t until they’d run into each other once again at a dinner party Holly had convinced Bo to throw that they had slipped into surprisingly easy conversation.

Most likely due to the closeness in their age, the two of them got along like a house of fire. Both fed off each other as they supported one another throughout their careers. She had found a safe space in confiding in the hockey player and was more than happy to be there to listen not as a training professional but simply as a friend. The easiness of their friendship should have been a clear warning sign for the woman but as time progressed she couldn’t spot the signs of things changing until it was too late. It felt like all the air had been stolen from her lungs when the reality of her feelings had finally been processed in her mind. She had left that gathering abruptly, claiming she had a report deadline she had forgotten about before disappearing. 

It was a mistake she had made before and she had sworn to herself she wouldn’t date a young athlete ever again, no matter how endearing and kind they seemed. It was almost as if life had intended for her to date one of the university athletes, after all, she spent as much time with them as she did with her actual friends. If you asked her now, she’d say it was nothing but an unfortunate situation and that she doesn’t hold any resentment towards him. But the hurt which was fed by predominantly fear remained. She knew that Brock would never be the kind of person who would humiliate her in the same way it happened in the past, but she couldn’t quite let go of what-ifs that plagued her mind. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake – not at the risk of her newfound friends.

What made it worse was as her feelings began to process in her mind, all their friends teasing came back to haunt her. The two of them were practically as thick as thieves regardless of how short a time they had known each other and the more she thought about it, the more she could see exactly why her friends were constantly teasing them. What she dismissed once as feeling comfortable and safe with Brock, while all true, she could now acknowledge the underlying reasons behind why everything with him just felt right. Lilah hadn’t realised how far they’d progressed entirely subconsciously, and she wasn’t sure how exactly she should feel about but she wasn’t comfortable anymore.

The following weeks were nothing but declined invites and unanswered phone calls. The only times her friends were able to see her were when they were all at work and it was nothing but professionalism when they were able to speak to her. It wasn’t until Holly turned up at her apartment door with a concerned look on her face and open arms that the truth finally came out. The older woman promised not to tell anyone not even her husband until Lilah did so herself.

From that moment, it was slow going to become part of the group once again. None of her friends mentioned her absence rather they just adopted her back into the pack as if nothing had happened. Getting comfortable around Brock, however, was much more difficult for her. She didn’t want to slip back into their old routine, it was dangerous for her because she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to hold off being near him again. It had taken a much longer length of time, many bribes and an ambush movie night with Milo and Coolie for her to fall back into a comfortable routine with the boy. She still claimed that the puppies did all the heavy lifting that evening.

The same pup that now had an insistent wet nose against her knee, gently pawing at her leg demanding attention. For an excitable young dog Milo who nearly always wanted to do nothing else but play, he was always very aware of young children as he was being so around the baby in Lilah’s arms right now. The dog’s presence, however, clued her into the man who was walking in her direction.

“Hello Prince Charming,” She greeted as he huffed sitting down in the seat beside her, taking a moment to coo at the little girl before rolling his eyes.

“Get off it,” His grumble came, Milo making quick work of getting pets from his dad before wandering off to play with his brother and the other dogs loose in the garden.

“The resemblance is uncanny Boeser you can’t deny it.” She sighed as she leaned over to give the man a gentle push, “I’ll never be able to watch Shrek the same ever again.” 

The laugh that followed was cut short as she paused a moment to look down at the small peaceful face against her chest. Smiling over at him, Lilah took a moment to watch the false frustration on his face fall as he smiled back at her with a good-natured shake of his head. 

“I should have chosen another movie to force you to watch,”

“You shouldn’t have forced me to watch anything!”

“And risk losing my newest friend, no thanks.” Her eyes rolled at his words, a strange tightness building in her chest at what she knew was supposed to be a friendly quip. 

In isolating herself, while it allowed her to wrap her head around the craziness of her own feelings, she had strained the relationships she would say she had been gifted. The whole process was entirely selfish of her, and she hadn’t taken a single moment to consider how it would make her new friends feel.

“You mean a lot more to me than you seem to think you know.” The words cut through her train of thought like a sharp blade, spreading a cold chill through her entire being as she slowly turned her head to look at him through the corner of her eye. Brock’s eyes were already affixed on her, monitoring the slightest changes to her expression. His sudden attentiveness struck a deep fear within her. Even though she knew she should be happy about the implications of his statement, she couldn’t help but feel that feeling of fear sit in her chest again, “I thought I’d lost any inkling of a chance, you know?”

It wasn’t until a beat later that she turned to look at him, adjusting the sleeping infant in her arms to not disturb her, “Chance at what?”

“A chance at being able to tell you that –“

“You know what it doesn’t matter it was in the past.” Her interruption was firm, Lilah could only hope it was firm enough for Brock to get the message to just stop. To let her breathe and process. To give her room to do what she does best and run. 

“It’s not in the past,” He answered louder than either of them had expected, huffing as he turned away and slumped in his seat, “We’ve never spoken about why you cut us all off.”

“Why would we?”

“I can’t speak for the others, but I was scared for you Lils.” His voice was so heart-shatteringly genuine to Lilah to the point where it felt as if she’d been punched straight in the gut.

“No need to be scared for me,” The words were, hopefully, encouraging as she reached over and lightly patted his arm before going back to support Tulsa.

“I can’t help it; I like you, Lilah. I know we joke about it when the others poke and prod, but I really do feel–“

“Brock please don’t do that–”

“Lilah listen to me.”

“You can’t finish that sentence.”

“Why not?”

“Because–!”

“Because? Surely you have a better answer than that.” The look of hurt didn’t escape her notice, but she found herself more focused on the growing frustration on his brow. Real this time – not the light-hearted fake expression he had been donning earlier in their conversation.

“Just– how… we’ve only been friends up until now.”

“Doesn’t mean things can’t change!” His voice was not only getting more frantic but there was a definite tone of conviction that was supported by the look on his face, “I’ve liked you since I met you. I just didn’t know how to get close to you as more than a friend. You were working for the team at the time, I didn’t want to mess that up for you. So, you became my best friend, and I wouldn’t trade that.”

Several beats passed after his confession and Lilah was finding it hard to not only process. A part of her was scolding herself at how thoughtful of her career he was being. They’d spent far too many nights talking about where she hoped to get to in the future so it only made sense that he wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardise that. The words that followed were whispered, barely carrying any sound, but his response told her that he’d heard it perfectly clearly. “It’s too fast”

“Ask anyone, ask Bo.”

“I believe you, Brock, I just,” Lilah took in a deep breath as she looked back out to the party her eyes hunting for the brother-like figure who had just been mentioned, “I’ve done this before. There’s an expectation being with someone like you and I couldn’t live up to it before, I’m sure as hell not trying again. I’m not going to lose myself again.”

“I wouldn’t ever ask you to change, I thought you knew that.” He had clearly taken some offence from the implication of her words but what hurt Brock more was how much he understood where she was coming from. He knew it wasn’t easy being with him but they were already closer than close, surely a change of their status wouldn’t have that much of an effect?

He’d also say with her when she finally felt comfortable enough to truly be herself and speak about why it wasn’t just her internship that had her reluctant to date any of the players. He remembered having held her close as he watched his, granted reserved, but strong in every sense of the word friend fight to keep her wits about her. It wasn’t until he had let her know that he was there for her that the floodgates and all details about her past were revealed to him. The pain had etched itself into Brock’s heart the more he heard her say with an accompaniment of anger at her ex, boys in general, the world. He wasn’t sure but he knew she didn’t deserve to go through what she had. No one did. 

It’s why he refused to fight her about it. Even though the feeling of rejection cut him deep, it wasn’t deep enough for her to suddenly forget the thought of vengeance in her name that had sat in the recesses of his mind since that eye-opening evening. Instead of fighting and trying to convince her to give him a chance, Brock bit his tongue. He stayed quiet beside her, not knowing where else to go that wouldn’t upset her further until she spoke up once again, directing his attention out of his head and back onto her.

“I don’t I don’t want to lose you. You mean so much to me and I love where we are, how we are.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment as they simply looked at one another. The look of hurt on Brock’s face had only deepened but she could see understanding slip into his face and she couldn’t help but smile to herself. Even in a situation where he’s not getting what he wants, he’s so willing and ready to understand. She would be lying if she said that it didn’t hurt to see him so down. With a forlorn sigh, she carefully rose from her seat and stared ahead at Bo uttering softly before she walked towards him. “Why should we put that pressure on ourselves?“

Brock had been watching her from the moment she walked away, moving to pass Tulsa back to her parents before giving them a wave. It wasn’t until Lilah had walked back into the house to presumably leave that he let himself answer her question. “Because we could be a diamond.”

A blind man could see that there was a shift in the way the two twenty-somethings interacted. The smooth, slickness of their close friendship, which everyone had gotten bored of teasing the two of them about, had gotten more strained than when Lilah had ignored them all. Maybe because it was clear that she was only making an active effort to avoid Brock which unintentionally put a strain on the whole group. Even Lilah could see that she was pulling her friends in two directions, but she couldn’t quite work through her previous experiences to just open up to the one person she knew she needed to speak to.

With the help of multiple glasses of wine deep into a girl’s night, the girls in question had torn down the walls she had put up hiding behind self-deprecating jokes and sarcasm until Lilah’s voice finally cracked as she shared her fears with her friends. They were all quick to wrap her in tight hugs and comfort her, but they weren’t leaving without helping her fix the knot she had tied herself into.

“You realise he’s hurting too, right?” Holly muttered softly, gently lifting the girl’s chin to face her as she listened to her sniffle. The older woman gently wiped the girl’s tears away, offering her a sisterly smile.

“I know and I hate myself for it.” Lilah’s words prompted very firm shakes from not only Holly but the rest of the gathered women.

“He’s never going to hold it over you. He knows how much you were hurt before, and he’d hate to put you through that again.” She confirmed as Lilah’s hand reached up to catch the newly formed tears before they streaked down her face with their friends, “But he’d never–“

“Let that happen, I know Holl.” A frustrated grunt left her mouth as she threw her hands up at no one but herself, “I’m avoiding him because I don’t want to see the sadness on his face when I can’t repeat his words to him. I don’t want to rush into anything – not this time.”

“Then let him know, don’t leave him wondering whether or not you like him at all.” The reality of what she had left Brock to assume finally hit her, a wave and dread flooding her body before resolve took its place. She was going to make things right, the only way she knew how.

Despite her throbbing head, she was up bright and early for work. Maybe brainstorming with your girls and drinking nearly a bottle of wine to yourself isn’t the best way to fuel your energy levels the night before a workday. Her hands held the tupperware tightly as she walked through the practice facility, a burn she’d procured in her tipsy state was on display on her wrist. A small price to pay she had convinced herself, but she was adamant to start making amends immediately. Anxiety was starting to build in her chest, it felt as though someone was pressing down on her heart the closer she got to the locker room, but her mind was set, and she was going to do it.

When her fist gently knocked on the locker room door, knowing only a few of the team would have actually arrived so early before practice but she knew Brock was one of them (Bo as well in case she needed the moral support). A yell followed her knock, but she only responded with another knock until the door was pulled open to reveal big brother himself who immediately cheered at the sight of her. Fortunately, all the boys were dressed, or at least covered up, as they welcomed her inside. Lilah’s greeting was brief, and she momentarily forgot why she even made the journey until Conor asked about what she was holding.

“Oh yeah – Brock these are for you, I know you like them.” Her voice was as soft as it had been when she first met the boys which they all found weird but understood considering the tension everyone had felt around the two recently. She carefully handed over the container which Brock took apprehensively but accepted with a nod, nonetheless. Watching as he pulled the lid off to reveal protein brownie, a smile that she hadn’t seen on his face (at least around her) made residence on his lips as he looked up at her. After the first time she had made the brownies for the boys, Brock had been begging her to make him a batch, but she always brushed the request off, claiming she was too busy, “I finally had some time to make you some more.”

Giving him a quick smile and a shrug, she turned on her heels and walked straight out of the locker room. Pausing as soon as she was out of their sights to just breathe in deep and fill her lungs properly feeling a little lost for breath but proud of herself for the courage that she had displayed. It was small but she knew it was just the start of her apologies. As she set off down the hallway again with a slight skip in her step, a hand slipped around her bicep gently turning her back around to face the way she had just come.

“Thank you,” Was the first thing she heard as her eyes settled on Brock who had let go of her arm and taken a step back. A weak smile was still perched on his lips as he spoke, clearly trying to lighten the mood, “The boys are a little envious, especially Bo.”

“I think he’s just used to getting the baked goods for himself.” Lilah joked with a nervous smile, watching his face before choosing to bite the bullet and just say what she’s been wanting to say, “Listen, Boes – I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt your feelings.”

“Then why did you just walk away? And then avoid me?”

“I told you; I didn’t want to lose you.” It was the honest truth, they both knew it but she also knew it wasn’t the full story. With his kindness and thoughtfulness and willingness to understand, he deserved to know everything, “Being around you makes me both the happiest person in the world and also the most nervous.”

Brock almost couldn’t believe the words he was hearing as his brows furrowed in response, “I make you nervous? Is this still because of the expectations? Of being with a professional athlete?”

“No Brock, I’ve seen you in a clay face mask, I’m not nervous because of who you are!” They both laughed at the memory she had mentioned, it being the same night he gained his new nickname from her, “You make me nervous because my tummy starts to turn, and my heart beats out of control when I’m around you.”

“I’m not going to ask you to do anything that makes you feel unhappy or unsettled. I’m happy where we are too so long as you let me stay here” He couldn’t help but worry that he might have pushed too far and what that meant for their future as friends. His fingers tried to get rid of the anxious energy by softly nudging Lilah’s fingers with her own until he felt a light squeeze from her.

“I didn’t stop you from speaking because I didn’t reciprocate but because I panicked.”

“So, you do care about me the same way?” 

The pure confusion on his face was endearing and all Lilah could do in response was further reduce the gap between them. She reached over and gently took his hand in her own, first grasping onto his fingers and allowing him the opportunity to pull away. When she felt the pressure of his finger bending slightly to hold onto her own, she slipped her hand further in his until their palms sat firmly against one another, “I like how we are, I wasn’t lying. But I can’t deny that my heart skips a beat whenever I’m with you, but we’d be foolish to rush into this and ruin everything that we have. Brock you are my Prince Charming–“

“But he’s–“

“I know he’s the bad guy don’t ruin the moment.” He let out a short laugh, copying her previous actions and stepping closer to her and quickly making work of holding her other hand, “ But I need us to take this slow, can we do that?”

“Of course we can.” The words were whispered as if an entire weight had just fallen off his back. Pulling her across the minimal space between them, his arms wrapped her in the tightest hug he could manage without hurting her and placed a kiss on the crown of her head, “ Whatever you need, you’re what I’ve been looking for.”