#brandon carlo imagines

[chaotickryptonitetree]

grant me easiness and i'll give you everything (it's only fair) | jeremy swayman

what I feel about him is alarming and frighting and yap yap yap. hope you like!

Whoever claimed to enjoy airports had clearly never been an Uber driver. 

Sure; the money was significantly better than a normal ride—but the traffic? And the poor temperament? And the confusing lanes? It made you question if it was even worth the money. 

But there were bills to pay, so you added tonight to the list of nights you ended up at the rideshare terminal of the airport. 

You knew by now that flights usually got in on the 10s (7:10, 8:10, etc), so people would have collected their luggage and made their way to ride shares by the 35s (give or take). Glancing at the dash cam, you read 9:32. As if on cue, your phone pinged with a few alerts. 

Typically, you’d choose the one that offered the most money. But it had been a long night, with a lot of rides, and had made enough to finish a bit early. So you picked the one that would put you closest to home. And it happened to be Jeremy, who wanted to end up at a brownstone around 7 minutes from your building. 

And you waited. 

Just for a minute or two before a knock on the back window stirred you from completely zoning out. Instinctively, you unlocked the car and a body slid into the back seat. 

“Jeremy?” You confirmed, not bothering to look back. 

“How do you know that?” A cheery voice forced your hand, made you make eye contact with him in the mirror. Mistake. 

“Are you Jeremy or not?” You were paid to drive, not indulge lazy jokes. Still, his kind eyes didn’t waver. 

“Just messin,” he looked out the window and mockingly placed a light touch to the window. Despite yourself, you tracked the movement, watching his hands (his large, large hands). Mistake. “Driver, take me home.” He sighed a wistful sigh, and even though you didn’t want to, a small smile found its way to your face. Putting on the turn signal, you merged into the departure lane and turned up the stereo. 

Checking your blindspot, you pulled onto the freeway—traffic was awful so it would be a long ride despite the short mileage. 

“Temperature okay?” You asked politely, following your script. 

“Just right!” You could hear the smile in his voice, even though you refused to look at him again. 

“Music alright?” 

“My favorite!” You raised an eyebrow at his response—top 40 radio was no one’s favorite. But that was your last question that usually made riders feel heard enough to give 5 stars. Slightly relieved (as always), you settled in for the drive. 

Usually you spent the time working through a problem in your head, really getting into the whys and hows of something that was bothering you. One of your friends was being distant, so you started there. She had started this behavior about a month ago, so that could mean that—

“I flew in from Alaska,” that cheery voice interrupted your internal monologue completely. 

“That’s nice,” your reply was non-committal. You didn’t usually talk to riders that much. Didn’t plan on making it a habit. 

“Yup!” He popped the p sound. “I’m from there, and I was visiting my family. It was awesome—I really miss them when I’m here for a long time.” 

“Nice.” You were out of practice making small talk with a new person (to put it lightly). He just nodded—the only indication being the sound of fabric moving around his neck as he did so. 

“So, where are you from?” He leaned forward in his seat, as if genuinely interested—as if knowing where this stranger grew up was a seriously important part of his night. 

“I don’t have to talk to riders just because,” you cringed at how mean you sounded. He didn’t even deflate a little, just leaned back and laughed a slightly weird laugh. 

“Fair enough,” his tone made you wonder if he was always this happy, this unphased. 

And then the music filled the space as much as your stale air freshener did—even if the air was tinged with a bit of guilt on your part. 

“I can feel you looking at me,” your eyes darted to him again in the mirror. Brown eyes forgiving and kind and very, very cute. 

“Not tryna hide it.” It could’ve been taken as flirting, but you had the impression that he was just like this with everyone. Still, it warmed your cheeks just a little bit. “I’ve just never had such a pretty Uber driver,” and then a moment later, “well, a pretty one that’s my age, I mean.” 

You laughed, despite yourself. “Pining after older women are ya?” He smiled easily, and it definitely was for him—easy. 

“Look at this face and tell me I’m not a cougar's dream,” he laughed loudly. You didn’t look back for safety reasons (and convinced yourself that was the only reason). He leaned forward again. “I like it though,” his words felt like an admission, even if he didn’t lower his voice. Everything about him just felt—genuine? In a way that made every breath feel like a secret. “Makes me feel like I have a hot girlfriend who likes me enough to pick me up at the airport.” 

You scoffed. If he wanted a hot girlfriend, it definitely wouldn’t be hard—not with his easy charm and pretty face. “I’m only here because I’m being paid.” You hesitated. “And there’s no way you don’t have someone who likes you enough to brave the traffic.” 

You could sense his delight through your headrest. “Oh yeah I do,” he looked out the window again, “I have the best friends in the entire world. They were just busy tonight.” He sighed as if the idea of his friends was as good as having them in the seat next to him. It was quiet for a moment. “But no girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“I wasn’t asking,” your tone was blunt, but you couldn’t help but smile. He laughed his weird, goofy laugh.

“Call me a romantic,” he addressed you by name—something you typically didn’t like from patrons in your backseat—but it felt different with him. “But I want that—someone who wants to be the first person to see you when you get back, who can’t even wait to kiss you even if it’s in front of a whole terminal.” 

“Sounds like you’ve been watching too many rom coms,” but that suddenly felt unkind to such a gentle man, so then a moment later, “I hope you find that.” 

“I will,” he seemed absolutely sure. “Oh shoot,” he raised his fists to the sky mockingly. “My phone died. Curses!” 

“I have a charger,” you looked around for the cord while still keeping an eye on the road. He stayed quiet for a moment, considering. 

“No, I have an android,” he quickly put his phone in his front pocket, eyes squinting with trouble. Trouble that made you think that he definitely didn’t have an android. “Oh wait! I have an idea!” He completely over-sold his facial expressions, making you question where he was going with this little scheme. 

“And what would that be?” your tone was dry, eyes still on the road as you took the exit off the freeway, only a few minutes from his destination. 

“So I can give you your rightfully earned tip!” He reasoned, “you can give me your phone number so I can send you money once I get my phone charged.” You could feel his hopeful gaze on you, like his plan was the most logical course of action ever spoken. 

Logistically, it made no sense. You could tip an Uber days after your ride. “And what—you’ll just remember my number until then?” For some reason that was the first question you asked.

He nodded, serious as you’d seen him. “Of course,” he said incredulously, “I remember important stuff.” 

And it didn’t make any sense. And you could’ve said no. And this was probably against some sort of employer code. And he was definitely this charming with everyone. But he looked so endearing and hopeful and there was something very good about him. Something right. 

So you rattled off your number, and he mouthed each number after you said it. And you believed him that he would remember it. 

And you believed him as he opened the door to leave, wishing you a good night. And you believed him as he waved from the top step. And as he opened the door and turned around for one more look, mouthing goodbye. 

Despite yourself, you believed him. 

…

Your bed was heaven after a long stint in the car. Practically asleep before your head hit the covers, a notification sounded from your phone. 

A message from an unrecognized number was the last thing you saw before sleep. 

From: unknown 

Sent $50 

And then a moment later, after you saved his contact. 

From: Jeremy 

Any interest in meeting me at Dunkin on Tuesday morning? 

You went to sleep smiling. He remembered. 

…

You agreed to meet him early—you typically liked to start driving before 11 and he had morning skate. 

The sun had just risen as you walked to a Dunkin about halfway between you and him, bundled up in a puffer jacket and a toque. The bell jingled above the door as you entered, blowing warm air into your hands. It was freezing out. 

You didn’t even have time to glance around and look for him before a tall, broad body in a black coat walked up to you and held out his arms for a hug. And then you weren’t freezing anymore. Not even a little bit. 

He released you with a smile, linking your arms together and pulling you into line. “What do you usually get?” You asked, convincing yourself that you certainly were not leaning into his side. Definitely not. 

He peered down at you, tucked into his side, nose red from the cold. “Whatever looks good,” he admitted, “usually the thing with the most cream and sugar.” 

You laughed—even if you didn’t really know him, the idea that he didn’t have an order, that he just let himself enjoy whatever he wanted (even if it had a ton of sugar), that seemed very him. 

“I’ll get that too,” you definitely snuggled into his side more, but maybe it was so you didn’t have to face his genuine smile so head on. Maybe? 

And so he ordered for you both, but not before complimenting the teenage cashier’s pride pin and asking what his favorite donut was. 

“Dunno,” the kid had braces and posture that seemed to shrink in on itself, and was clearly not used to anything beyond what can I get for you, “sprinkle looks pretty good today.” 

“Then two of those too,” he put the spare change (and a five) in the glass tip jar. “Thanks brother,” he put out his knuckles for a fist bump. The kid tapped his fist lightly to Jeremy’s, completely won over. 

Like a puppy, he quickly found something else to entertain himself with while you waited. “We almost have matching jackets!” He gestured to his black north face and your navy one. You pulled a face—how could he find such delight in everything? 

“I guess?” You pinched your face together. He didn’t mind. 

“Very couple-y of us,” he put his hands up at the look you shot him. “I had to say it,” He shook his head like it was obvious. And it was so cute you didn’t give him a hard time about it. 

“Thanks for paying,” you directed the subject elsewhere, “you didn’t have to do that.” He shrugged, eyes fixed on your drinks as the barista (are they called baristas at Dunkin??) set down two identically light and sweet drinks. 

“My pleasure,” he grabbed the bag with two sprinkle donuts inside. 

“I’ll send you my share,” you made to grab your phone from your pocket. His hand over yours stilled the movement entirely, warmth emanating from his palm. 

“You got it next time,” he shrugged—like obviously there would be a next time. And you believed him, hand now interlaced with his. 

“I know it’s bad for me,” he groaned as he took a sip, “but it’s actually the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” A completely innocent line, but it felt dirty as he said it. Or maybe you were just losing it over how his thumb moved over yours. 

“Oh,” you responded quietly, taking a sip of yours. Total sugar bomb. “Well you’ll work it off anyways in practice I’m sure,” you fumbled over your words just a little bit. He seemed amused. “Like, looking at you, I’d never guess you have a sweet tooth,” you said, even though there was absolutely no reason to keep talking. He titled his head in delight. “Because you look totally in shape—you look, great. Yeah.” A true example of vocal mastery was on display tonight. 

He took a bite of donut, his white teeth a sight so intimate it made you blush. He hummed while chewing, nodding. “Oh yeah? I’m not sure why you mean…should we keep talking about how hot I look?” He joked before pulling a very embarrassed you into his side and out into the chilly air. It didn’t feel as cold with his hand around yours though. 

You laughed an embarrassed laugh. “Easy, you big dope, I was trying to be nice.” He laughed into your toque, head on top of yours. 

“I know, I know.” And then he went into talking about how he wasn’t a fan of Dunkin before moving to New England and now he was addicted. And you just listened, toasty from humiliation and content as he walked you home, hand covering yours. 

…

You offered to pick him up from practice later in the week (he had asked you to come to a home game, but you weren’t quite ready for that yet). He was right on time, waving an animated wave as he walked out the door with a few teammates. 

You waved back (a bit more timid in the presence of his friends), and turned to que up your next song. He knocked lightly on the window, and you rolled it down. He was bent over, face in the window as he glanced toward the backseat. 

“Want to meet my friends?” He asked politely, clearly excited. 

You hesitated, which made him continue. “No pressure at all. If you don’t want to, I can hop in the backseat and we can pretend you’re my Uber driver again,” he smiled a grin that was so genuinely happy it made you less nervous. You turned off the engine. 

“No way,” you unbuckled your seatbelt. “I wanna meet ‘em.” You opened the door and shut it softly behind you, wrapping your arms around yourself instinctively. He pumped his fist. 

“Let’s go!” He seemed overjoyed. It was quite possibly the sweetest reaction to such a nothing event. You rolled your eyes, but let him pull you in front of him, large hands rested on your shoulders, steering you to face his two teammates. 

He introduced you to them both (they were sweet, but there was something on their face that made you unsure if they were making fun of you or jeremy��or both–or no one). But listening to them banter back and forth while you stood pressed to the front of him made you realize that they just joked around like that. 

Jeremy was usually the punchline–but he didn’t mind. He was easy to laugh, easier to smile, and made a point of pulling you impossibly closer to him. If his friends noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

But then the fact that they didn’t say anything made you wonder just how many people he had introduced to his friends. Maybe they were having a non-reaction because they were so used to it? You stiffened slightly under his hands. 

And he must’ve felt it, because he placed a feather-light kiss to your hair–which did pull a reaction from his boys. 

“If you’re around on new year’s, we’re throwing something and you are obviously invited,” one of them nodded towards you, eyes a little wide. 

“Obviously?” You questioned, but felt far more comfortable than a moment ago. The taller one laughed, eyes flickering to Jeremy’s briefly. 

“Obviously,” he confirmed. “You think this is our first time hearing about you?” He shook his head, clapping the shorter one on the back. “Sway here wouldn’t shut up about you. If you didn’t respond to his text he was going to make us call every Uber in Boston until one of us got you as a driver.” 

You hit his chest as you turned around. “You goof,” you meant to say–but the words died on your tongue when your eyes met his–so full of genuine enjoyment and content that it warmed you from the inside out. You turned toward them again, waving goodbye. 

“I’ll see you on new year’s then.” 

“Nice to meet you,” they parroted, smirking at Jeremy. “We’ll see ya sway.” He waved and let you pull him into the passenger seat. 

“I like your friends,” you rubbed your hands together and blew on them. He smiled a radiant smile. 

“You’ll love the rest of the guys,” he pulled your free hand into his lap, both palms wrapped around it, warming you right up. You drove the rest of the way home with one hand so he could keep a grip on you. He gave you a play-by-play of practice (which drills he did best on, what made him laugh the most, what he wanted to focus on for the next game), only coming up for air once. 

“I really like you,” he said earnestly, as matter-of-factly as when he spoke about drills. It made you shake your head. 

“Obviously I like you too,” the words felt good to be out–like you didn’t realize how true they were until you said them aloud. 

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “Obviously?” You could feel his smile on the back of your hand. 

“It's, like, impossible not to.” You pulled in front of his building, putting the car in park. Meaning to pull your hand back from him–a little embarrassed–but didn’t even make it over the console before he crushed you in a hug over the center console. The steering wheel dug into your side, nose crushed into his chest, hair static-y all over his puffer. But you couldn’t bring yourself to back out of it–arms rubbing circles against the back of his coat. 

You had no idea how much time had passed when he pulled back, grabbed his bag from the trunk, and walked up to the front door. It was probably the longest he had gone without talking around you. But you didn’t mind. You liked him when he talked, when he didn’t, when he smiled, when he breathed. 

You smiled all the way home. 

…

You agreed to walk to the new year’s eve party together. It was just far enough away for you to prepare to meet more of the people from his world and hear about his last couple road games. Just hearing him talk made your nerves melt away. 

He insisted on meeting on your doorstep, however, even though it added 10 minutes to his walk. He texted when he was on his way.

From: J

Be there in a few!

From: you

You need my address?

From: J

Course not.

And then.

I remember important stuff.

You went in for a hug as you opened the door–a new part of your routine. 

“Hey,” your greeting was muffled into his puffer. His navy?? Puffer. One identical to your own. You thumbed the material and glanced up at him. “Nice coat?” You raised your eyebrows. 

He laughed loudly, tipping his head back. “I wanted to match.” The way he said it made it feel obvious–tone like a noncommittal shrug. Like why wouldn’t he want to match? 

The ease of the gesture was lovely. He was lovely. “Well then,” you linked your arm with his, setting off down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, “it is an honor to match with you tonight.” 

He let a grin brighten his face. “You smell really good,” he breathed into your hair. “Like you always do. And I like the glitter you have–” He ghosted a thumb over your brow bone, “here.” 

And the loveliness haunted you the entire walk over, conversation easy and light. He was so open, so kind, in a way that eased openness and kindness from you as well. 

So the night was much better than you had expected. It felt natural to meet his friends, his teammates, their wives, their kids. It didn’t feel like being thrust into a brand new world. It just felt like natural–like getting another piece of Jeremy was a privilege. 

And you didn’t feel out of place with how enamored you were with him–everyone here clearly was. He was the heartbeat of this group of people–and you felt lucky to watch him light up the room. And a little part of you felt proud that you were here with him. 

The one who everyone wanted to be around–he wanted to be here with you. 

“You’re too nice for him,” another new face laughed as he clapped Jeremy on the shoulder, looking down at you. 

“Too nice?” You glanced at the palm resting over your stomach. Possibly the most gentle, kind touch you had experienced. How could anyone be too nice for that? “For him?” Your voice raised with confusion.

The young guy in front of you raised his eyebrows at the man behind you. “He didn’t tell you?” His smile was all trouble. “Our boy Sway likes to be a little roughed up,” he laughed at your blush, hidden by you turning around to gape at Jeremy. To wait for a rebuttal.

But it never came. He just laughed good-naturedly and hugged you into his chest. “Hey now, don’t scare her away!” He looked down at you, squeezed tight against his chest. “Lucky to have her here at all.” His smile was just for you. 

And so you smiled and let yourself half forget about that comment. Met some more people. Drank some more wine. Smiled a lot. 

But you couldn’t forget it entirely. 

Some time later, he beckoned you over to where he sat on the couch. You finished up chatting with some of the women and made your way to him. 

“Hey,” you stood in between his legs before he pulled you down to sit on one of his thighs with a thud. You felt him sigh into your hair as you leaned back so your head rested on his shoulder, hands reaching around the play with his fingers. He was solid and warm. 

“Hey,” if you had to put money on it–you’d bet he was smiling. “Thanks for being a champ about this–they can be a lot.” You traced a nail over the outline of his hand. “But they’re important to me, so it makes me happy that they get to meet you.” 

As intimate as a secret, spoken lowly in your ear. As secure as a fact, warming your chest. 

“I like them,” you thought for a moment. “Even if they think I’m too nice.” 

He rolled his eyes. “They’re just giving you a hard time. It’s a long story.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “You can tell me if you want.” You could feel his chest rise and fall under your back.

“When I first signed, I showed up to practice all beat up once. Bruises, all that nonsense.” His eyes shone as he retold the story–like the emotions were just as fresh as they had been.  “Told everyone I walked into a doorway–or something stupid like that. In the locker room later, everyone saw the marks this girl had left all over me.” He indicated scratch marks over where you lay on his chest. “All on my back and my neck and stuff. Never heard the end of it–how doors are really fighting back now and all that.” You just listened. “So yeah, they give me a hard time about it. But it’s no big deal–I didn’t want them to scare you or anything. If you’re not into that, don’t worry.” 

He ducked his head into the crook of your shoulder, kissing behind your ear. You shivered, trying not to wiggle too much over his lap. Tilting your head towards him, you let your voice drop so only he could hear. “I’m into that.” His eyes went wide. “And I’m into you, so I can still be nice.” 

He gulped audibly, making you smirk. “Like, I can be nice and tell you that you’re so good.” His face was as serious as you’d seen him. “Makes me wonder if you’d be so good for me.” 

He nodded before he knew what he was nodding at, grip tight around you. “I would be.” His voice was clipped. “I’d be so good for you.” 

You nodded back, chest on fire. You believed him. 

You let your cheek rest against his sweater, eyes peering up at him–slightly flushed from the party and eyes a little tired. It had to be close to midnight. 

As if on cue, the countdown began from the tv. Every voice in the room chanted along…10, 9, 8…but you almost didn’t hear them. Too busy looking at Jeremy. 7, 6, 5. You turned so your legs swung off the couch, sideways in his lap. 

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” he whispered, holding you upright against him. “Like a real one. Not just a friend or something.” 4, 3. You pulled him so close you could see the shine of his lip from his drink, feel the sweat on the back of his neck from his sweater. 

2. 1. “Glad to be your first or something,” you grinned into the kiss, teeth knocking against his. He laughed a breathy laugh into your mouth, free hand palming the back of your head. His chest rose and fell next to yours, making you pull back. 

“I’m so happy it’s you,” he admitted–probably the most embarrassed you’d seen him. You ran your hands through his hair, settling against his chest so he could put his chin atop your head.

You believed him.

...

happy new year! Love ya

#nhl fic #nhl imagines #jeremy swayman #bruins #boston bruins #david pastrnak #brandon carlo #charlie mcavoy #matt poitras

[cellythefloshie]

;; 12 Days of Kinkmas Day 5 - Brandon Carlo - Secret Relationship

Summary: Sequel to Kinktober 2022 you and Brandon decide that it’s time that you’re tired of sneaking around, and that you don’t want to be each other’s secret any longer.  Kinks & TW: none, pure fluffy heart to hearts here, gift giving.  Word Count: 1813

TAGLIST : @wingedwheelprxncess @mitchymainer @equallyshaw @starshine-hockey-girl  @beccaiscold @samanthasgone

It had become somewhat of a tradition for your father to welcome different players into their home for the holidays for a home-cooked meal. Whether they be single or with their loved one, and couldn't make it home for the holiday during the few days they had to celebrate, they always had a seat at your table. Usually, you would spend the night away from the home with a friend to get away from the chaos that often came with having multiple - usually young - hockey stars in your living room, but this year you had answered your mom’s call to help and agreed to stay and help cook dinner. 

You stood over the stove, watching over the numerous pots that were under threat of boiling over while your mother finished the prep work for dessert. Cooking wasn’t your specialty, but you were doing your best, even with all the noise in the next room. Teammates had begun to gather, welcomed by your door by your father before they were directed to the dining room. The table was already set, and refreshments were available, As conversations started, so did the chaos, the jokes, and the all-too-familiar laugh of your secret lover, Brandon Carlo. 

You had thought he had decided not to come, that he had made plans to fly back home to Colorado for the holiday but his voice perked up your ears in an instant. Each time he spoke you found your gaze leaving the pots, looking towards the archway into the next room, only to be brought back with the hiss of water boiling over onto the element. It would earn a concerned look from your mother, one you would meet with an awkward smile and a bit of a laugh one that would face when your father and an all too familiar face made their way into the kitchen for introductions. 

“You remember my daughter,” your dad spoke your name with pride, his hand coming down onto your shoulder to draw you away from the stove. 

A strand of hair fell into your face as you looked up at Brandon who towered over you. You could see his hand flex in restraint as he craved to reach up and push it out of your face. Instead, he was forced to shove it into the pockets of the coat he had yet to shed. You swallowed hard, reaching up to tuck the strand behind your ear yourself as you managed a smile. Of course, Brandon remembered you, hell, he hadn’t forgotten about you once. Hell, he quite possibly knew you - both mind and body - better than anyone.

“Fondly,” Brandon smiled and you almost hit him. He couldn’t be saying something like that around your dad. You turned back to the oven almost coldly in an attempt to hide the color that crept up onto your cheeks before Carlo turned your attention to your mother who was more than welcoming of his pleasantries. You listened to the conversation casually, almost overattentive, as you hoped he could continue to make a good impression - maybe then, when you finally told them that you had been seeing him behind their back for the better part of a year, they wouldn’t be so upset. 

You perked up when an opportunity struck, Brandon asking for directions to the bathroom. You were left wiping your hands on a tea towel, abandoning the stove behind you, “I can show him the way,” you offered as if it were much more complicated than walking up the hall, “you should get back to the rest of our guests,” you suggested, nodding back towards the dining room. 

Your father thank your quickly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing back into the dining room, and your mother took over your post in front of the stove. “Bathroom’s this way,” your voice was almost meek, gentle as you began to lead Brandon from the kitchen. He followed behind, and you could practically feel his stare on your back, dragging over the angles of your body - admiring how it looked little black dress. It was nothing too fancy, but it was more than enough to catch his eye. 

They did not leave you, not even as you came to the bathroom, you hand going to the door only to find it locked. “We have another bathroom upstairs,” you told him slowly, your hand gesturing towards the staircase awkwardly. 

“Lead the way,” he answered as if he was tiptoeing through his words - unsure of just what he could say to you as if anyone and everyone was listening in to what you had to say to one another. 

You were halfway up the stairs when you felt his large hand reaching up to take yours. His thick fingers slipped up over your palm, wrapped around your hand so effortlessly as you took to the landing on the second floor. His grasp tightened gently, spinning your around to face him, and drawing you into his towering frame. You were met by his warmth, your eyes fluttering shut as you were intoxicated by everything that was uniquely him. His warmth, his smell, his touch, it all left you splendidly dizzy. 

“I thought you said you weren’t coming-” you muttered but your words were punctuated by a kiss, his lips meeting yours showing no restraint. And when he pulled back you were left wide-eyed and breathless. 

Hands taking both of his, you dragged him a little further down the hall, just out of sight of anyone who might wander up onto the second floor. “Careful, my dad is downstairs,” you half yelped, as if he needed the reminder of the very reason you had been sneaking around for months. 

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits carefully, “but I couldn’t pass on the opportunity to spend the holidays with you - even if it meant only a few hours,”  and he brought his hands up to cup each side of your cheek, “and you look - wow.”

Brandon draws you in again, his lips feather-light over your own and you breathe him in, your hands clutching to his shirt almost desperately. “Mom will be wondering what’s taking me so long…”

“This will just take a second,” Brandon’s words were a mere whisper, his eyes falling shut and his head leaning in to rest his forehead against yours so casually, “just let me enjoy this stolen moment alone with you.”

Your smile split wide, your head almost shaking from side to side. If you got caught he was as good as dead, but you enjoyed every moment of it. You let yourself pretend that everything was normal. That you could go back downstairs together hand in hand. That your father would greet you both with a smile and Brandon with a warm embrace. His teammates would jest, teasing you both - and you almost sighed at the thought of not being hit on by one of the guys for the first time in years, knowing all too well that once anyone learned about you and Brandon that they wouldn’t even think twice about it. 

So consumed by your fantasy, you hadn’t even felt Brandon’s hands leave your face - or how they dragged down the angles of your body before reaching into his own pocket. It was from the depths of his pocket he pulled out a slender, Tiffany-blue box. One that you saw the instant you opened your eyes. Your brain couldn't even fathom what was happening, spiralling into one illogical thought after the other before settling on the most outrageous: That better not be a ring! Hell, you didn’t know why your mind went there. You had only been dating for so long - and it had all been extremely private - so it really didn’t make all that much sense to fall into that panic, ad yet your heart was pounding in your chest so hard it felt as if you had just run a marathon and your breath was lost with the panic of just what could be in the box. 

“Are you crazy,” you hiss out as Brandon carefully placed the box in your hands, “nobody even knows about us and you’re walking in here with a Tiffany box?”

He spoke your name slowly, a soft whisper almost lost on the noise of his teammates downstairs, “just open it.”

You held the box carefully in one hand, the other coming up to open the top off carefully. You almost cursed him at the sight of the Tiffany Knot Pendant Necklace that lay elegantly - even if it was slightly askew from being in his pocket - in the box. It was discrete enough for everyday wear but it was so expensive both your mother and father were sure to ask where you had gotten it from. 

“Brandon-” You sigh out, your eyes raising from the beautiful necklace and up to his smiling features but he was already turning you around and carefully taking the box from your hand. “They’re going to ask where I got this…” you told him carefully, the drag of his fingers over your collarbone and neck distracting as he placed the cold gold necklace around your neck. 

He hummed for a moment as your hand came to rest over the delicate pendant, warming it with your touch, “Santa.”

“They won’t buy that-”

“Or we just tell them.”

You stood still frozen for a moment as his words hit you harder than anything physical could have. It had been a topic of discussion for a while, and while you often found good reasons to put it off, you both were getting impatient - you just needed the right time to tell your dad. But was now the time? 

“During the holidays?” you half gasped. 

“Why not,” he punctuated the question with your name, his bright eyes gazing down at you as his hands found your hips to hold, “your graduation is soon, my no move clause upcoming… I want to celebrate those things with you.  I want you to meet my family as my girlfriend, not as my coach’s daughter…I don’t want us to be a secret anymore.”

Nodding slowly, you hopped up and wrapped your arms around the breadth of his shoulders. Your face nuzzled into his neck effortlessly as you relied on everything that was him to keep you grounded in a moment where anxiety threatened to consume you. “After dinner, when the others start to go home, we tell them?” you whispered out against his skin nervously, “and if my father doesn’t kill you, you can stay here tonight?”

“Oh?” you could feel him perk up, a playful laugh creeping up his throat as you pulled back.

“Don’t get too excited,” your hand met his chest playfully as you pushed him towards the bathroom, “if he doesn’t kill you, you’ll probably get stuck in the guest room-”

#brandon carlo #hockey rpf #nhl rpf #hockey players #hockey imagines #;;kinkmas2022

[rockislandadultreads]

Black History Month: More Fiction Recommendations

Washington Black by Esi Edugyan

Eleven-year-old George Washington Black - or Wash - a field slave on a Barbados sugar plantation, is initially terrified when he is chosen as the manservant of his master’s brother. To his surprise, however, the eccentric Christopher Wilde turns out to be a naturalist, explorer, inventor, and abolitionist. Soon Wash is initiated into a world where a flying machine can carry a man across the sky, where even a boy born in chains may embrace a life of dignity and meaning, and where two people, separated by an impossible divide, can begin to see each other as human.

But when a man is killed and a bounty is placed on Wash’s head, they must abandon everything and flee together. Over the course of their travels, what brings Wash and Christopher together will tear them apart, propelling Wash ever farther across the globe in search of his true self. Spanning the Caribbean to the frozen Far North, London to Morocco, Washington Black is a story of self-invention and betrayal, of love and redemption, and of a world destroyed and made whole again.

We Cast a Shadow by Maurice Carlos Ruffin 

"You can be beautiful, even more beautiful than before." This is the seductive promise of Dr. Nzinga's clinic, where anyone can get their lips thinned, their skin bleached, and their nose narrowed. A complete demelanization will liberate you from the confines of being born in a black body - if you can afford it.

In this near-future Southern city plagued by fenced-in ghettos and police violence, more and more residents are turning to this experimental medical procedure. Like any father, our narrator just wants the best for his son, Nigel, a biracial boy whose black birthmark is getting bigger by the day. The darker Nigel becomes, the more frightened his father feels. But how far will he go to protect his son? And will he destroy his family in the process?

Nightcrawling by Leila Mottley

Kiara and her brother, Marcus, are scraping by in an East Oakland apartment complex optimistically called the Regal-Hi. Both have dropped out of high school, their family fractured by death and prison. But while Marcus clings to his dream of rap stardom, Kiara hunts for work to pay their rent - which has more than doubled - and to keep the nine-year-old boy next door, abandoned by his mother, safe and fed.

One night, what begins as a drunken misunderstanding with a stranger turns into the job Kiara never imagined wanting but now desperately needs: nightcrawling. Her world breaks open even further when her name surfaces in an investigation that exposes her as a key witness in a massive scandal within the Oakland Police Department.

Real Life by Brandon Taylor

Almost everything about Wallace is at odds with the Midwestern university town where he is working uneasily toward a biochem degree. An introverted young man from Alabama, black and queer, he has left behind his family without escaping the long shadows of his childhood. For reasons of self-preservation, Wallace has enforced a wary distance even within his own circle of friends - some dating each other, some dating women, some feigning straightness. But over the course of a late-summer weekend, a series of confrontations with colleagues, and an unexpected encounter with an ostensibly straight, white classmate, conspire to fracture his defenses while exposing long-hidden currents of hostility and desire within their community.

#black history month #Black Fiction #fiction #Black Authors #Library Books #Book Recommendations #book recs #Reading Recs #reading recommendations #TBR pile #tbr #to read #Want To Read #Booklr #book tumblr #library blog #book blog

[mrsbrekkers]

⭒❃.✮:▹ UPDATED FANDOM LIST

hey there everyone! as promised, here is the updated fandom list! i had to go to the er after work so (: that was lovely. anywho!

 🕊 KEY NOTES! - i write imagines, headcanons, and blurbs! when sending your request, give me the type of fic you want, the character for said fic, and your idea for said character :) - characters marked with a <3 are ones I'm wanting to write for the most as of recently! - DO NOT request characters not listed please! instead, if you have questions about characters i'll write for, pm me! we'll discuss. - i do write smut, however! be mindful of who you're requesting smut for. also, i am in no way vanilla, be dirty ;)

★ TV SHOWS! ☆ ━━━━━━━ ˚⁀➷ CRIMINAL MINDS <3 - aaron hotchner <3 - spencer reid - luke alvez - emily prentiss, wlw only! <3

˚⁀➷ HOUSE OF THE DRAGON <3 - jacaerys velaryon <3 - aemond targaryen - daemon targaryen - harwin strong - rhaenyra targaryen, wlw only! <3 - alicent hightower, wlw only!

˚⁀➷ GAME OF THRONES - oberyn martell <3 - ellaria sand - tyrion lannister - jaime lannister - robb stark - margaery tyrell, wlw only! - daenerys targaryen, wlw only!

˚⁀➷ ONCE UPON A TIME <3 - regina mills, wlw only! <3 - emma swan, wlw only! - killian jones <3 - robin hood - david nolan/charming

˚⁀➷ PEAKY BLINDERS <3 - thomas shelby <3 - micheal gray <3 - arthur shelby

˚⁀➷ BRIDGERTON - anthony bridgerton - benedict bridgerton - colin bridgerton

˚⁀➷ GREYS ANATOMY - andrew delcua <3 - jackson avery - arizona robbins, wlw only! - callie torres, wlw only!

˚⁀➷ DISNEY/NICKELODEON - justin russo - max thunderman - phoebe thunderman, wlw only! - jax novoa - andi cruz, wlw only!

˚⁀➷ WINX CLUB - flora, wlw only! - aisha, wlw only! - helia - nabu - brandon - sky

★ MOVIE SERIES ☆ ━━━━━━━

˚⁀➷ THE HUNGER GAMES - peeta mellark <3 - finnick odair

˚⁀➷ HARRY POTTER - regulus black <3 - sirius black <3 - james potter - remus lupin - lily evans - harry potter <3 - cedric diggory - ron weasley - hermione granger

˚⁀➷ MARVEL - bucky barnes <3 - peter parker <3 - sam wilson - steve rogers - clint barton - baron zemo - natasha romanoff, wlw only! <3

˚⁀➷ STAR WARS - anakin skywalker - obi-wan kenobi - han solo - kylo ren - rey, wlw only!

˚⁀➷ DESCENDANTS - evie, wlw only! - carlos de vil - ben beast

˚⁀➷ DREAMWORKS - hiccup haddock <3 - astrid hofferson, wlw only! - heather, wlw only! - jack frost

★ BOOK SERIES ☆ ━━━━━━━

˚⁀➷ SIX OF CROWS <3 - kaz brekker <3 - jesper fahey - nina zenik, wlw only!

i've also read several katee robert series :)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

well, that's it! send in your requests or pms! <3 t.

#house of the dragon #game of thrones #once upon a time #peaky blinders #greys anatomy #disney #winx club #the hunger games #harry potter #marvel #star wars #descendants #dreamworks #six of crows #bridgerton #criminal minds

[pastrnaks-sainz]

Fredlo brainrot is real after seeing the first father's trip photos. Imagine: Trent wearing Brandon's Carlo Car Wash hat and Brandon wearing Trent's Frederic Roofing Co. hat. That is all.

DOMESTIC.

#abby answers #pastrnaks sainz fluffy thoughts

[lifesidefun]

Off-Duty Cop Was Getting Haircut When Gunman Burst Into Barbershop

Things did not end well for a gunman who burst into a Baltimore barbershop and opened fire. Little did he know, an off-duty cop was getting his haircut, but he quickly learned the hard way that the man he fired shots towards wasn’t your average customer. Instead, he was armed and ready to protect and serve — and it was all caught on jawdropping video. Carlos Ortega, a 38-year-old man accused of going on a shooting spree in the city of Baltimore, met his match when he entered a barbershop and began firing his weapon at employees. As a patron sat in the barber’s chair, Ortega went so far as to shoot over the man’s shoulder, striking the barber. He’d quickly find out the hard way, however, that the man getting his haircut wasn’t your average customer. Unbeknownst to Ortega, he had just shot over the shoulder of an off-duty, plain-clothed Baltimore police officer, who was armed. After the gunman fatally shot 33-year-old Rafael Jeffers, the barber at Bladi Style barbershop in East Baltimore, while the officer was getting his haircut that fateful Saturday afternoon, the courageous cop decided to put an end to Ortega’s terror — and it was all caught on video. As seen in the dramatic footage captured by a surveillance camera inside the barbershop, Carlos Ortega, who’s seen in a white tank top, walked into the business and almost immediately opened fire, shooting an employee to death, The Blaze reported. As shots rang out, the man in the barber’s chair remained eerily calm as Ortega burst in and shot the barber. However, that was all about to change. After getting out of the chair and moving out of the gunman’s way, the off-duty officer, who was an armed police sergeant in plain clothes, quickly turned the tables. As Ortega turned his back, the cop “with great bravery produced his firearm,” according to Police Commissioner Michael Harrison. After pulling out his own weapon, the officer fatally shot Ortega, stopping him from inflicting further harm on those present. Sadly, it was too late for the Bladi Style barber as well as other victims who Ortega is accused of shooting earlier that same day during two other shootings in the city. The two earlier shootings left one 44-year-old man — also a barber — dead and another person critically injured. Although Ortega is suspected of being the gunman in the two earlier shootings as well as the one captured on video inside Bladi Style, police were still working to determine any motives that might link the three shootings in the days following the deadly ordeal. “We’re processing three different scenes in three parts of the city,” Police Commissioner Harrison explained. “While this perpetrator has expired from his injuries, we will still need answers to these questions,” Harrison added, according to The Baltimore Sun. “We are working to determine the connectivity, which is a likely connectivity.” The officer, who was not injured during the exchange, has since been hailed a hero with Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott lauding his heroic actions in a statement on the incident. “This is something the average person wouldn’t do,” Scott admitted. “This is something that our officers do each and every day in the City of Baltimore. We don’t know what would have happened if he was not able to respond in that way, and how many more incidents could have happened tonight here in Baltimore City.” https://twitter.com/KatieDaviscourt/status/1461491334691188740 Indeed, we shudder to imagine what might have happened, had this officer not been present. This is yet another stark reminder that it usually takes a good guy with a gun to end the rampage of a crazed gunman, intent on doing harm. Thankfully, Carlos Ortega picked the wrong place and time to attempt to inflict carnage or this story might have had an even bloodier ending. Read the full article

#lifestories #stories #viralstories

[entireoranges]

Fictional DWTS All Star (week 8)

Theme: None (again?!) and Team dances. Concept: Pretty self explanatory.

Last time ...

Let's do this!

Couple: James Hinchcliffe with Lindsay. Style: Viennese Waltz. Song: A Thousand Years. Christina Perri. Score: 10-9-10-10. Total: 39.

Couple: Mirai Nagasu with Mark. Style: Charleston. Song: A Cool Cat In Town. Tape Five. Score: 9-9-9-10. Total: 37.

Couple: JoJo Siwa with Sharna. Style: Waltz. Song: Gravity. John Mayer Score: 10-10-10-10. Total: 40.

Couple: Ally Brook with Brandon. Style: Rumba Song: Besame Mucho. Andrea Brocelli. Score: 10-8-10-10. Total: 38.

Couple: Jodie Sweetin with Val. Style: Quickstep. Song: Putting On The Ritz. Tony Evans. Score: 9-10-10-10. Total: 39.

Couple: Carlos PenaVega with Jenna. Style: Salsa. Song: Thinking Of You. Lenny Kravitz. Score: 10-10-10-10. Total: 40.

Couple: Johnny Weir with Daniella. Style: Paso Doble. Song: Thriller. Michael Jackson. Score: 9-8-10-9. Total: 36.

Couple: Milo Manheim with Emma. Style: Quickstep. Song: Ridin’ High. Ella Fitzgerald. Score: 10-9-9-10. Total: 38.

Team Dances.

Team A: Captain: Mirai  With: Milo, Jodie, and Ally. Style: Freestyle. Song: Bones. Imagine Dragons. Score: 10-9-9-10. Total: 38.

Team B: Captain: Johnny With: Jojo, James, and Carlos. Style: Freestyle. Song: Life Me Up. Rihanna. Score: 10-9-10-10. Total: 39.

Top Of The Leaderboard. JoJo Siwa with Sharna. 79. Carlos PenaVega with Jenna. 79. James Hinchliffe with Lindsay. 78.

Bottom Two. Johnny Weir with Daniella. Ally Brook with Brandon.

Judge’s Saves. Carrie Ann saved Ally. Derek saved Johnny. Bruno saved Ally. Len saved Johnny.

Eliminated Ally Brook with Brandon.

#fictional dwts all stars

[secretlittlerandezvous]

Fracture - Brandon Carlo

Summary: Brandon breaks his leg during the game and the reader gladly takes care of him.

Words: 1406

“Be with someone who will take care of you. Not materialisticly, but take care of your soul, your well-being, your heart, and everything that’s you.” - unknown

Only nine minutes of the third period remained and it looked very good for the Bruins as they were winning 5:1 against the Florida Panthers. The end of the regular season was around the corner and everyone was slowly becoming impatient about the playoffs. The anticipation and excitement were taking over everyone be it the players or fans. I was in the second row cheering for the Bruins pretty much ready to call it a wrap and go to the locker room and congratulate the boys and leave together with Brandon. No one believed the small possibility that the Panthers would be able to score at least four more times in the remaining few minutes and I stopped stressing about the game altogether knowing the win was ours. In one moment, I was yelling at Brandon to support him as he tried to get the puck from his opponent and just a second later, I felt my heart drop to my stomach. I held my breath and felt myself getting pale as the fear took over me completely. In one second Brandon was fighting over the puck and the next second he was on the ice unable to get up. Players of both teams were yelling “he’s hurt” at the doctors, all fans repeated the same thing and my friend who went with me was talking to me however I was out of my mind and didn’t understand a word she said. It felt like ages; seeing Brandon lying on the ice helplessly, boys surrounding him, and rushing the doctor to him. And it was only when the doctor took Brandon away from the ice that I came back to my senses.

“I’m gonna go see him,” I said in a panic as I gathered all my stuff. “I’ll let you know what’s up,” I promised to my friend and left her alone as I quickly ran to the locker room where I hoped to find Brandon and learn more about his injury.

When I arrived to the locker room I found Brandon in pain talking with the doctor about what will happen next. From what I heard it looked like a broken left fibula and the ambulance was called already.

“I’ll go to the hospital right after you, okay? I’ll be there.” I said to Brandon who begged me to go with him.

Later that week Brandon had his ankle surgically repaired, stayed at the hospital for almost two weeks and the recovery time was somewhere between two to three months. And it was certain that Brandon would miss the end of the regular season and the playoffs. Everyone was sorry for Brandon as he would miss the playoffs for the second year in a row. But no one felt more sorry than Brandon. Remorse, guilt, and pain replaced the good mood of the previous weeks, and although I did everything I could to give Brandon support and to assure him no one was angry it seemed like Brandon made up his mind already.

Life also significantly slowed down and changed with Brandon’s injury. There were no games, no traveling, no trainings, or workouts at the gym. Most of our trips usually led to the hospital for his regular checkups or for short walks to the park or around the neighborhood. We watched the games on the tv, played board games when he had enough energy, or we just cuddled on the couch as I read from my favorite books to him when he was in a grumpy mood. Over the weeks I moved almost all of my stuff to his apartment and even I felt like I officially lived there because I visited my apartment only a couple of times and it was only because I had to get more clothes.

“Hey love,” I said happily when I finally arrived home from the grocery store. “Are you okay?” I asked concerned about his wellbeing as I found him lying on the couch in pain.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “It hurts but I took the pills they gave me, so I hope it’ll get better soon.” He smiled at me trying to calm me down.

“Do you want anything to eat? Or maybe you should go to bed and try to sleep.” I suggested unsure of what to do as always when he was in pain.

“No, I’m fine love,” he smiled again. “Just come to me already.” He whined playfully.

“Oh, so mister grumpy would like to cuddle? Last night you complained and wanted to be left alone.”

“Last night the pain wasn’t as bad and you were worried more than it was necessary,” he laughed. “It really hurts though.” He groaned as he tried to find a comfortable position.

“Let me get you a pillow,” I said as I went to the bedroom for another pillow to put under his foot. “Better?”

“Better,” he nodded. “And now you can finally get your ass over there next to me.”

“I wanted to cook something for dinner,”

“I think we won’t starve,” he laughed and pulled me down to his chest. I was worried I could have hurt him and immediately checked for his reaction, but he chuckled and looked happier than he did a few minutes ago. “That’s definitely much better.”

I rested on his chest with his strong arms holding me close to him and preventing me from falling on the floor while my legs rested on the frame of the couch so they wouldn’t get near Brandon’s. I kissed his chest from time to time or drew small circles in hopes it would bring him a little bit of comfort. We spent most of the the days and nights like this and although I was sorry for Brandon and sorry, he wouldn’t get to join the boys in the playoffs again I enjoyed the ordinary life we suddenly had. We were always in rush, always on the go and I was always ready to pack my bags on join Brandon on some of the longer trips. I was fine with spending the nights on his games and going to the ice rink instead of dates and I enjoyed it more than fancy dinners and events. However, until now I never realized how much I needed life to slow down, to have time just for ourselves, and do nothing at all.

I put a blanket over both of us and snuggled up to him even closer with my hands now wrapped around him tightly. He stroked my hair and pressed small pecks on the top of my head. We didn’t say a word but we both were comfortable and happy with the situation we were in.

“Wanna go to bed?” I asked sleepily and looked up at him as he nodded his head in response. “Let’s get you to bed, big boy,” I smiled and stood up first and then helped Brandon to carefully get up. He put his arm around my neck and dropped most of his weight on me as he tried to keep his balance.

Before I got Brandon into his bed, I helped him to wash and change into some clean clothes he could comfortably sleep in. “I don’t deserve you,” he grinned at me when I helped him get into the bed. I lay down beside him, wrapped my hands around his upper back, and ran my fingers through his wet hair. He stroked my back in return and rubbed his nose against the side of my head as he then moved to my cheeks and forehead to kiss me. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered against my skin. I smiled weakly at him and brought myself even closer to him. He was like a big teddy bear. He loved to cuddle, and he always protected me from everything - even from the smallest things. He was always warm and soft, yet his muscles were unmissable. Now it was my turn to protect him and keep him safe.

Being in his arms in a tight grip was never close enough for me. Every time I tried to get even closer but somehow accepted that it was as close as I could possibly get to him. And for now, it definitely was close enough.

#brandon carlo #brandon carlo imagine #brandon carlo one shot #brandon carlo writing #brandon carlo imagines #boston bruins #boston bruins imagine #boston bruins one shots #boston bruins writing #boston bruins imagines #nhl players imagine #nhl imagines #nhl one shot #nhl writing #hockey imagine #hockey one shot #hockey writing #hockey imagines

[going-full-shmoo]

Could you do a headcon for dating with Brandon Carlo? Thank you 🖤

Hey anon! I don’t know much about Brandon Carlo either, but I’ll do my best! Hope you enjoy!

REQUEST HERE

after doing some research, i have come to a conclusion

Brandon Carlo is sweet, but a lil dumb...pure himbo energy

something tells me that being his s/o means being a decent portion of his impulse control

you always make sure that everything’s all good with him before he leaves the house

like making sure his fly is up

he has so many things on his mind that sometimes he forgets, and that’s where you come in

you are always his biggest cheerleader, as he is for you

you always cheer him on whenever he’s on the ice, even when he falls down or scores a wacky goal

he knows you love it when he throws a good clean hit to knock another player on their ass, so he tries to do it more often

he loves being able to include you in all the things that he does, from hockey to traveling

you’re his best friends so he wants you there with him for everything

on the offseason the two of you find yourselves traveling all over, having new adventures and goofing around

he is definitely the type to bring you to the ice whenever he can so he can skate with you

if you already know how, he loves watching you glide along the ice with ease yelling loudly for you to do leaps like the ice dancers do

if you don’t know how to skate, you best believe he’s gonna try and be your teacher

holding on to both your hands he’d take you gently out on the ice, and gradually speed up with you in tow

this would naturally end up with both of you on the ice, but both of you got a good laugh out of it at least

overall, I think he’d be an adventurous boyfriend, always keeping you on your toes and willing to do anything to get you to smile

#brandon carlo #boston bruins #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #boston bruins imagine #boston bruins imagines #brandon carlo imagines #jj writes

[ohpuckthat]

Summer On You... (Brandon Carlo)

Request from Anon. Hope you like it 😊

Darling I’ve been working all week

Stressed was an understatement on how I was feeling. It was finally Friday and I could feel the tension in my shoulders. I was in major need of some r & r. I rubbed my eyes for what felt like the thousandth time and stifled the yawn that was about to come out of my mouth. I looked back at the monitor and continued finishing the reports my boss needed by the end of the day. 

Although my boss is an a hole that’s when you call me

I sent the reports out and turned the computer off for the weekend. I grabbed my purse and headed to my car. I stepped in and immediately felt my phone go off. I grabbed it from the bottom of my bag and answered the call from my best friend. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N. I have a surprise for you. Are you home soon?” 

“Yeah. I just got off work. I should be home soon.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” I hung up and started my car, heading home. Once I got there, Brandon was standing at my front door. 

“Y/N, God you look miserable.” He said, making his way over to me and pulling me into a hug. 

“I just spent another week at work. I’m exhausted and my shoulders hurt.” I said, pulling away and bringing him into my house.

Said you’ve been making a plan to hit the road with me, I’ll pick you up after and-

“Well, I may have something that will make you feel better. We’re going on a road trip!” 

“A what?!” 

“A road trip. I have everything planned. We’re going for two weeks, get packing.”

“I can’t take two weeks off. Are you insane?” 

“Oh come on. You have never taken any time off in your two years of working for that company. I think they can spare you for two weeks.” 

“Fine. I will talk to my boss. When are you planning to leave?” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“You’re insane.” 

“I have an idea. Isn’t your boss a fan of the Bruins?” 

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?” 

“Just call your boss and put it on speaker.”

After a fairly short phone call with my boss, I had two weeks off of work. My suitcase was packed and my bag was in the back of Brandon’s car. I got into the passenger seat and put my seatbelt on. 

“So where to?” I asked as he backed up in my driveway.

“Breakfast. We’re meeting everyone there and then we’re heading out.”

“Great. Let’s get going then.” He looked over at me and then turned the radio up.

Day three and we were having a blast. We had taken shifts driving and we had finally made it to our destination, California. He knew that this was one of my dreams. The sun, the sand. He and I both knew that we needed this. We spent the first week sightseeing and just really taking the city in. The second week was a lot more relaxed. Our last night in Cali was the best. We had all decided to be basic and have a campfire on the beach. I was sitting on the log beside Brandon, wrapped in a blanket, my head leaning on his shoulder.

“Do you want anything to drink?” He said, grabbing the cooler from beside us. 

“My regular please.” I said, smiling. He grabbed two beers from the cooler and passed me one. I opened the bottle and took a swig.

We’ll drink beer like it’s champagne and stay out kissing in the rain

“Can I talk to you alone for a second?” I turned my head up and nodded. He shrugged the blanket off of us and took stood up. He grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the group. 

“Shit, I knew that I wanted to say this ever since I started planning this.” He said, trailing off by the end.

“You can tell me anything Brandon.”

“Okay. Uh, I’ve been attracted to you ever since I first met you but then I got to know you and then I got even more attracted. I was wondering if you would maybe... want to... be my girlfriend?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.” I leaned up and placed my lips on his. 

I will spend my summer on you...

#brandon carlo imagine #brandon carlo imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

[tsegss]

Brandon Carlo: Elephants

masterlist

request: Could you do a Brandon Carlo imagine, any scenario?

author’s note: ok so I didn’t know who this was, but now I do and boy is he cute soooooooo do yourself a favor and take a quick google

word count: 799

You shouldn’t have done this for yourself. It was your fault. You went digging for it. But you needed to, all of the sneaking around, going out more at weird times. The call from “Sarah,” that he just shrugged off. You needed to hear him say it. You needed Brandon to tell you to your face that he was cheating on you.

When he went to shower after practice and you knew you had twenty minutes to dig through his phone. You had already done most of your snooping beforehand so you knew what you were looking for. You easily got into his phone, plugging in his passcode. What guy, who wants to cheat on his girlfriend, gives her his phone passcode?

You found what you had wanted to. The text said it all, they were way too flirty. You didn’t know whether to cry or scream or do both. Then you heard it. You heard the water shut off. Quickly, you put everything back to normal. As he walked out the bathroom door, you confronted him.

“I know what you did.” You said

“What are you talking about?” He laughed, thinking you were joking.

“I’m serious.” You said, determined to get the answers you were looking for.  

“Can I dressed before we have this conversation?”

“No we need to talk about this now.” You said confidently.

“Would you let me put some fucking clothes on?”

“How long have you been cheating on me?”

“I knew this would happen.”

“You knew you would fucking cheat on me?” You screamed, enraged.

“You are the most stubborn person.”

“Are you blaming me for you cheating me? Are you fucking kidding me?” Your volume kept growing.

He disappeared into the closet. You got up and followed him, you didn’t even care if he was naked. You were having this conversation now.

“Brandon!” You called. “We are not finished having this discussion!”

“If you could just be patient for two seconds.” He said, pulling on sweatpants, digging through a pile of folded dress shirts, pulling out a red velvet box. You were confused.

Was it a ring box? Oh my god, its a ring box. 

The thoughts ran through your mind, as your eyes widened. You two had only been together for seven months, and while you couldn’t be happier it was too early for a proposal and you and Brandon were both 21. You were too young.

Looking back at you, Brandon noted the panicked expression on your face. He looked down at the box, then looked back at you realizing what you were thinking.

“Oh no, baby.” He said, gesturing his hands to match his words. “This isn’t what you think it is.”

“Its not a ring?” You asked him.

“No, no. Its not a ring.” He exhaled.

You sighed in relief. But then your mind wondered, what was in the box?

“What is it then?”

“Its your birthday present.” He said noting the confusion on your face. You had been so stressed out with midterms that you completely forgot about your birthday coming up.

“Do you want to open it early.” You nodded eagerly, smiling ear to ear, in response.

As you opened the box you saw the necklace. It was a small silver elephant, covered with tiny diamonds, except for its eye which was an aquamarine stone- your birthstone. You were without words.

“Do you like it?” He asked. “I know how much you love elephants and I wanted to incorporate that into the design. The girl that’s been texting and calling, Sarah, is the jeweler she helped me design it and was nice when I tried to change the design like five times. I just wanted it to be perfect.”

“I love it.” You said, looking up at him smiling.

“Yeah?” He smiled, pulling you in closer to him. You nodded as you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up to kiss him.

“I’m sorry you thought I was cheating on you, but baby, I would never do that. I care and respect your too much to do that.”

“I know, I’m sorry I overreacted I just- I don’t know.”

You both stood there for a second, in each others arms not knowing where to take the conversation from there. Thankfully, Brandon chimed in asking if he could put the necklace on you. Gently, he moved your hair out of the way as he fastened the clasp around your neck. The necklace fell right below your collarbone. As he finished putting it on you, he kissed the inner part of your shoulder before kissing his way up your neck up to your mouth.

“Happy Early Birthday.” He cooed into your mouth, his lips still pressed to yours.

“Best early birthday ever.” You said, and it really was.

#brandon carlo #brandon carlo imagines #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagine #Boston bruins imagines

[chaotickryptonitetree]

ode to the maybes that make up the good stuff (us) | trent frederic

hes so underrated and I needed a reader who wasn't a genius (because I cant relate to smart people and why is the reader always smart??).

You were running late. 

And it–sort of–wasn’t your fault? 

Okay, it was your fault for oversleeping. But then your exam ran over the allotted time (they hadn’t even been passed out when you stumbled into the lecture hall, panting from sprinting from your parking spot, still blinking sleep from your eyes). And then your row was the last row to be dismissed. And yeah, it wasn’t really your fault. 

Speed-walking back to your car, you weighed your options. Your meeting would take you 20 minutes to get to with the mid-day traffic. And it was the kind of event where it was no use showing up late–might be better to just not show up at all. 

And then you passed your favorite coffee shop, and the wheel practically turned into the parking lot itself. Your boss would understand about the final and you could get notes from someone else later. Finishing that class called for a break–and as you turned off the ignition, you allowed yourself your first deep breath all morning. 

The perfect cure to a hectic morning was a fresh start and an almond-milk latte. 

The bell jangled as you opened the door–hit with the familiar smell of roasting beans and gingerbread muffins in the oven. Your exhale was cathartic. 

“Hey, welcome in!” The barista greeted you as you stood in the doorway, walking to join the line. For a random weekday, it was quite busy. You gave your order to the barista politely and walked to the only empty table left. 

You criss-crossed your legs in the booth, pulling out a book from your bag. Time–only interrupted by a swift hand placing a drink on your table and walking back to the counter–warped as your turned pages, eager to escape the craziness of the morning and happy to have a medium in which to do so. 

Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating small flecks of dust in the air. Condensation dripped down the side of your glass, collecting in a ring on the wooden table. The only noise to fill your space was the crisp turning of pages and background chatter filling in the blanks. 

Until it wasn’t.

“Excuse me,” said so quietly you thought you had misheard, you didn’t look up until someone cleared their throat. “Hey.” 

You looked up, squinting slightly from the sun. There was, in fact, the shadow of a very tall person standing near the edge of your table. Trying not to let your disappointment show, you dog-eared the page and closed the book gently. The background chatter roared on as you set your head on your hand, looking up at the voice from before. His face was still skewed by the harshness of the sunlight through the windows. 

“Sorry–didn’t hear ya…can I help you?” you spoke slowly, evenly to the faceless man. He coughed again, pausing too long to be normal given the circumstances. 

“Um, yeah…no, that’s alright!” He answered awkwardly. He then seemed to realize that he hadn’t truly answered the question and sighed. “Was wondering if I could share this table with you?” He seemed to be nervous about your response so he quickly spoke again. “You’re the only one with a spare seat.” 

Luckily, you were in a good mood and didn’t have any emotional attachment to the other side of the booth. “Go for it,” you said with the wave of a hand. “I don’t mind at all.” 

You could feel his smile in his exhale. “Really?” His voice was light and relieved, even as he sat down and moved his bag inside the booth before he slid in. You hummed in response, turning back to your book, head in hand. He respected your quiet, and the sound of him pulling notebooks and pens from his bag faded to background noise as you fell back into your chapter. 

And yet again, a drink being set down disturbed the peace. Your head flitted up, clocking the barista setting down a cold brew in front of the boy across from you. 

And then you got a good look at the boy across from you. 

He was big. Like big enough where you could see every muscle indented in his long sleeve shirt (not that you were staring or anything). A pretty blush painted his cheeks daintily, full mouth quirked to the side as he fiddled with the straw wrapper. Big, brown eyes met yours and widened when he realized you were already looking at him. 

“What?” he asked softly, plunging the straw into the drink and swirling slowly–ice clinking against the glass. 

“Nothing,” you closed your book again, shrugging slightly. “I just didn’t realize that you were handsome.” His blush deepened, creeping up his neck and to the tops of his ears. 

“Oh,” he fidgeted with his hands–which were easily the size of his face–”I wasn’t expecting you to say that.” 

You leaned into your hands more, endeared by his sudden shyness. “Well, it’s true.” You smiled as he tried to keep eye contact. “What’s your name, handsome?” 

He bit his lip, cracking his knuckles nervously. “Don’t wanna tell ya.” 

“And why is that?” You cocked an eyebrow. 

He smiled–a little less shy, eyes like amber in the sunlight. “So then you’ll have to keep calling me handsome.” 

You laughed into your palm. “I’ll call you pretty regardless, promise,” you held your pinkie out as a mocking gesture, “just tell me.” 

“Trent,” he wiped his hands on his sweatshirt and wrapped his pinkie around yours, “that’s me, I mean–yeah, my name.” He didn’t let go before you did, introducing yourself softly with a smirk. He felt like had a certain warmth–a comfort–wrapped around him like the blanket on your childhood bed. He felt kind.

The best beginnings always begin with that–a kindness. 

…

The next time you saw him, you were embarrassed. Your advisor had suggested that you enroll in a supplemental class during the night after a particularly hard semester academically–and as much as it hurt your ego, not going would hurt it more. 

So, you went to the class, despite feeling stupid. Eager to make yourself small, you chose a seat in the back corner, hood up as you got out your supplies. Maybe no one would recognize you, maybe you’d just be able to take the class and then slip out the door when it was over. No harm, no foul. 

But of course you could never be so lucky. Your eyes darted to the door just as he walked in–as sturdy and solid as ever. His backpack straps fought to keep the muscles of his shoulders and neck contained. The indentations of his triceps made his long sleeve flutter around him. 

And you were definitely staring–for much too long, you guessed–because your gaze drew his attention to your corner. His eyes smiled before his mouth as he made his way over to you. He looked–relieved?

“Thank god,” he sighed as he slid into the chair next to yours. “You’re here.” You searched his face for any sign that he was teasing, making fun of you in any way. At all. 

But you couldn’t find it. Still, you were tentative. “Yeah.” Really awesome conversation starter. He didn’t seem to mind. 

“I was scared that I wouldn’t see you again,” he pulled out his glasses and opened up his laptop–the light reflecting off of the lens artificially, “lucky me.” 

You opened your mouth to say something but were interrupted by the professor introducing themselves and projecting the syllabus. You turned toward the front and tried to tune in. 

But it was hard. Not because the class itself was going to be a challenge–it was only supplemental after all–because he was distracting. 

Distracting you with how cute his rosy cheeks looked under his glasses. How he mouthed words after the professor said them before writing them in his notes. How he nodded his head and actually paid attention the entire time. He was just trying hard. 

And it was alarming how endearing you found that. So, yeah, you half listened for the lecture–but it was intro stuff anyways. As you packed up your back, he let out an exhale and let you out to the door first, holding it open with his wide palm. 

“So, what do you think?” He asked, matching your pace as you walked to the parking lot. It was dark–and far colder than when you had entered the building a few hours earlier. 

“Hmm?” You hadn’t quite heard him–too busy watching him push his glasses up into his hair, making it stick up arbitrarily all around his head. He smiled a sideways little smile. 

“What do you think of the class?” 

“Oh,” and you were embarrassed again, “it’ll be fine. I could use a GPA boost,” you admitted. He nodded, even though you could guess he couldn’t relate. 

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” he said, even though he didn’t know you, “you’re smart.” 

You pinched your face together. “You don’t know that.” 

He smiled, shoving his shoulder into yours good-naturedly. “Yeah I do,” he was closer in your space now, “can tell by the way you talk.” 

You looked up at him–not convinced–but he was already looking ahead. “Which car is yours?” 

Nodding toward your car, parked away from all the others, he cracked his knuckles. “Cool, I’ll walk you there.” 

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “I’ll give you a ride, but only because you’re being so cute tonight” He smiled–like he knew you’d ask. 

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” He waited for you to unlock the car. 

His face was blushy from compliments and the cold. “Only the cute ones,” you said as you stepped into the car. He shook his head. 

…

Laundry day in a college dorm just might be the 5th circle of hell. Every machine is taken, none of them work right, and there’s always someone who dumps clothes on the ground–essentially making the room itself a battlefield. 

But at 2am on a Tuesday night–it was peaceful. Sure, there were still the clothes littering the ground like an overgrown garden, but the scent of fabric softener seemed to soften the air around you; low tumble of the machines a gentle lullaby as the campus stilled around you. 

Sitting atop the washing machine you were using, you waited for the cycle to be done. Stars interfered with the inky-black sky as it shone through the windows. And you watched. At this hour, there were no expectations, nothing to do, no one to impress. Just the silence around you. 

And then the door opened. And of course it was him. 

Hidden behind a large basket of clothes, looking adorably soft and sleepy in pajama pants, was Trent (again!). He didn’t seem to notice you as he sorted his clothes–large hands deft and meticulously parting darks and lights. You just watched. 

“Hey handsome.” You said softly as he stood to his full height, slightly startled. But once he realized it was you, he let out a relieved sigh and walked to stand across from you, leaning back on to the row of dryers. 

“Late night?” He spoke lowly, even if there was no need to whisper. As if he was cautious about disturbing the peace. 

You shrugged, pulling your legs into your chest atop the machine and wrapping your arms around them. “I like it,” you said honestly, “it’s the only time I get all to myself.” 

He nodded in a way that made you think he understood. “What did you do today?” You asked, eager to keep him there. 

He thought for a moment, looking slightly upward. Then told you all about his classes (they are interesting, but demanding), practice (just a light skate, they have a game tomorrow), and homework (he has a quiz in a few days). And you nodded, interested in anything he had to say. 

You switched over your laundry as you listened to him, adding in dryer sheets and humming accordingly. It struck you that each time you spoke to him, it felt easy. You picked up right where you left off, like you were old friends. It made you smile to yourself. 

“Whatcha thinkin about?” He interrupted your train of thought. Your eyes flitted up to his, sideways smirk gracing your lips. 

“You,” you answered honestly, knowing that it would make him blush more. He rubbed his eye and tried to hide his delight. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes playfully. But when you just kept looking at him, greedily, just because you knew he’d let you, he paused–a spark of hope lighting up his face. “Really?” His voice came out small. 

You tilted your head, nodding slowly. “Yeah.” He smiled like he knew something you didn’t. He probably did. “Will you tell me a secret?” You asked as he folded his clothes carefully. 

He thought for a moment, as if any sudden words would break the bubble around you both. “I did laundry yesterday,” he admitted, making you smile a wide, genuine grin, “just saw you in here and wanted an excuse to come in.” His blush was a splotchy watercolor painting his tired face. “Now you tell me one.” 

You pretended to think hard, emboldened by his admission. “I love it when you blush,” you said, “but I don’t think I’m doing a good job of keeping that a secret.” He shook his head, folding his last sweatshirt into his basket. 

“You can’t just say things like that,” he laughed lightly, eyes bright. 

“And why not?” You smiled as he stepped closer, close enough for you to see the freckles on his nose. Right in front of the dryer which you sat on. “It’s true.” 

Everything about him was soft. He smelled like he had just showered, and up close you could notice how his hair was still damp at the root. “Because,” he took a gentle thumb to your cheek, showing you the eyelash he had picked up. “It’ll ruin my tough guy reputation,” he flicked it off to the ground. You shivered at the loss of contact–however fleeting it was. “The guys are already giving me shit for how much I talk about the cute girl from the coffee shop.” 

You smiled. “You talk about me to your friends?” Was he getting even closer? 

He couldn’t break eye contact with you if he tried, nodding. “Can I tell you another secret?” You asked gently. He nodded again. “I have a crush on this really cute guy.” He laughed, shutting his eyes and letting his forehead rest on your shoulder. He practically radiated heat. 

“Oh great,” he smiled into the crook of your neck, “and I’m just supposed to go on with my night after this? Like a normal person?” 

You laughed with him and brought a hand to the nape of his neck, running your fingers through his half-damp hair. “How will you manage?” You joked, voice careful. 

He didn’t answer. And there you sat–atop a still warm dryer like the queen of the night, running your fingers through his hair until his arms wrapped around your back in perhaps the gentlest hug you could manage. You let your breathing slow to match his. You forgot what time it was, about your clothes. 

And when he held you like something soft and good, it didn’t really matter–did it? 

…

The stress of night class quickly melted into an excuse to see him two times a week (at least). You’d always get there first–and maybe you’d have an extra energy drink, just because–and then he’d stumble in a few minutes later, making a beeline for your designated corner (wearing his glasses if you were lucky). 

You set down his energy drink in front of him as he unpacked his bag. His eyes darted up to clock the motion before he smiled a sideways smile. “Sweet of you,” he said softly, still bent over his bag. “Thank you,” he added, settling in his seat. 

Nodding, you turned to the front–ready to dial in to the lecture. And you did! For a few minutes, before a notification popped up in the corner of your computer–an email in your school inbox. Switching tabs, you opened the email from an unknown sender. 

Really cute girl next to me. Pretty nervous. Should I make a move?? -T

Smiling to yourself, you immediately typed out a response. 

not sure…heard she usually goes for defensemen. 

A response came a moment later, his shoulder shaking slightly with a laugh. 

If i can beat one in a fight does that count? 

Electing to close out of your email, you settled for moving your chair a little closer to him, rubbing his shoulder soothingly over his sweatshirt. 

“I think you should make a move,” you whispered in his ear, reaching to take a sip of his drink. He leaned back into your touch, tilting his head down to respond. 

“Do ya?” His voice was low, eyes flickering down to your lips for just a second. You nodded, removing your hand from his shoulder. 

“Yeah pretty,” his eyes didn’t leave your mouth, “I really do.” 

But you could wait. And so you did. 

…

When he came back from away games, he was usually tired. And it was late anyways–maybe 11:30? But you were up writing an essay that was due in a few days. Your phone buzzed on the pillow near you. 

Any chance you’re still awake? 

You smiled to yourself, leaning back on the headboard and putting your laptop to the side. 

of course, you answered, paper due soon.

And then a moment later–but could be convinced to take a break??

Three gray dots appeared and then disappeared before his response. 

Was hoping you’d say that. 

And then–Be there soon. 

You smiled, continuing with your paper until a soft knock rapped on the door. 

“Come in!” Your voice was still hushed due to the late hour. He opened and closed the door softly, placing his backpack against the wall and slipping off his shoes. Wasting no time, he slid next to where you sat at the head of the bed, knee knocking against yours. You leaned into his side slightly, loving how warm he was. 

“How’s the paper?” He put his head on top on yours, looking at your computer above you. You didn’t answer, instead typing “eh,,,how was game?” into your document. He laughed, lips brushing against your hair. “Good. Got into a little fight.” He flexed his hand in front of you, knuckles raised and red. You ran a finger over the little cuts (he didn’t flinch) and wrapped both hands around one of his, rubbing your thumb over the veins on the back of his hand. 

He sighed, making you smile. “You should see the other guy?” You questioned, hoping he won whatever scrum he had likely started. 

He nodded slowly against your head, watching your hands work around his. “You should see the other guy,” he confirmed. And there you sat, comfortable and sleepy with a human furnace beside you. He smelled like green apples and a fireplace that had just burned through the kindling. He was cozy–everything about him. You turned just slightly, nose brushing the column of his throat. He shivered. 

“I love spending time with you,” he admitted, embarrassed and not making eye contact with you–as if meeting your eyes would cause the tips of his ears to catch fire. You hummed against his neck, slightly damp from his shower. “You make me laugh and you’re really pretty and it makes me happy when you make time for me,” he rambled on, stuttering slightly. 

“Yeah?” Your lips brushed his throat, prompting an embarrassing, whiny whimper from him. He looked up, giving you more space (even if he didn’t mean to). 

“Yeah,” his voice was small. 

You smiled into his neck, kissing the hollow of his throat, lips feather-light. “Well I like how smart you are,” you moved up, kissing just below his ear. “How kind you are to me,” his jawline, “how you blush when you’re embarrassed,” as if on cue, his ears lit up further. “Yup,” you kissed his ear, “just like that.” 

You felt his breathing labor next to you–chest rising and falling quicker than before. Fixated on your mouth, he started to reply. 

“Well I like–” and that’s as far as he made it before leaning in and gripping the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his in a kiss that burned. 

His lips were slightly chapped, and your teeth knocked into his, but the grip his massive hands had on your face made you lean closer to him–too enamored to care. Smiling against his mouth, you swallowed the groan leaving him eagerly. His hand slid to your jawline keeping you close to him. 

As if you’d ever leave. You placed another light kiss to the corner of his mouth as he caught his breath. 

“About time, eh?” He smiled down at you, eyes dark and bright. You brought his knuckle to your mouth–as if your lips would make the bruises disappear. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment. 

“We got there,” you laughed lightly. “Worth the wait, right, handsome?” He ran a thumb over your cheekbone–always so gentle. 

He just snuggled up next to you and let his body get heavy next to yours. You felt him smile next to you. Some questions didn’t need answers. His slowed breathing as he fell asleep next to you was answer enough.

...

love you!

#trent frederic #boston bruins #nhl fic #nhl imagines #bruins #david pastrnak #brandon carlo #charlie mcavoy #matt poitras #hockey #nhl hockey #hockey stuff #nhl

[borderlinemediocre]

Absolutely losing it at this guy’s story about his baby meeting the boys

#also these may be the gayest pictures in all of sports #pasta and jake are the cutest gay dads ever #where is the chara pic with the baby????? I will cry #why am I so emotional over this team at all moments someone help me #IMAGINE CHARA HOLDING YOUR BABY AND NOT GOVING IT BACK #ITS HOS CHILD NOW YOU CANT EVEN FIGHT HIM #IM GOING TO CRY #IM CRYKNG #I———— #bruins #hockey #nhl #zdeno chara #david pastrnak #jake debrusk #tuukka rask #brandon carlo

[bambiicarlo]

carlo really out here just demolishing people

#bruins lb #brandon carlo #boston bruins #nhl #bambi barlo elite d(eer) man #i know he’s a grown man but that gif was all i could imagine

[imaginingsoftly]

Baby Shorts 4 - Brandon Carlo

Type: established relationship, shorts, babies

Requested: Yes!

Warnings: none

A/N: Here you go, anon! I’m done with this series of shorts for right now, but if you want to send more I’ll get to them when I have time.

You would never get used to the sight of Brandon holding your daughter. She had been so small when she was born that she almost fit in one of his hands, enormous as they were. Even now, 6 months later and laying on his chest, she looked tiny.  Of course the other girls had joked about how ovary-melting the sight of Brandon holding a baby would be, and they were right. The sight of your boyfriend holding your baby girl was enough to soften anyone’s heart. 

It was unfortunate, it really was, that he was out with an ankle injury. You would be lying if you said the sight of him watching the game with your daughter didn’t make you tear up, though. They were both decked out in Bruins gear, Brandon in his team hoodie and your daughter in her custom “daddy” jersey, and Brandon whispered commentary about the game in her ear. 

Your daughter was sleeping, but that didn’t seem to stop him. He talked her through the lines, telling embarrassing stories about her “uncles” as he went. Actual commentary was thrown in every once in a while, along with explanations for penalties. It was honestly a surprise he hadn’t tried to put skates on her yet. 

“You’re gonna be the best hockey player in the family, baby girl,” you heard Brandon whisper to your daughter. “Even better than me, and definitely better than your Uncle Torey.” You stifled a giggle, trying not to disturb the moment, but Brandon heard you. He threw a mischievous smile in your direction before focusing his attention on the baby laying on his chest. “If you want to play professionally, I’ll help you get there. If you want to go to BU, I bet about half the team would help you. We’ve got like 5 alumni on the team. You’ve got the world in your hands, baby. I love you so much.” 

He kept talking, whispering more about the game, and you tuned him out again. This was his moment with your daughter, and you couldn’t wait to watch them experience so many more together.

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #brandon carlo imagine

[pastrnaks-sainz]

Don’t Scare me Like That

Pairing: Brandon Carlo x reader 

Type: Angst, Fluff 

Warnings: Swearing, Brandon being a little shit 

Word Count: 855

Summary: Brandon was being reckless on the ice. He was putting himself in positions that were going to get him hurt, and you had no choice but to call him out on it. He didn’t like that very much. 

Request: Hi 💛 Can you please write some angst with Brandon Carlo? Maybe getting into a fight before the game where he got hurt and the reader gets scared and they make up? If you’re not comfortable with writing about Brandon’s injury then just any angst with a happy end haha. Thank you (from anon) 

~~~~

“I just worry about you, Brandon!” you yelled, tossing your hands up in the air in frustration. “I don’t know what you want me to do! It’s not like I can stay completely silent about it when it’s fucking true.” 

“You have never played a game of hockey in your life!” Brandon shot back. “Who are you to make a judgement based on something you have absolutely zero experience doing?” 

“I’m your girlfriend! It’s my job to worry about you!” you snapped. 

“Well maybe you should stop.” 

And those were the last words Brandon spoke to you before slamming the door behind him and leaving. 

You stood in the middle of the apartment feeling completely numb. Brandon was never like this. There was something going on with him. You just chalked it up to how the Bruins had been stumbling as of late. They would get their groove back, it was still early enough in the season for this. He was stressed, though. And it caused him to make some dumb decisions. 

You tried to push his words out of your mind as you turned on the game. Sean Kuraly had been texting you since Brandon left. He was doing his best to calm you down. It had been working, too. Until you watched Tom Wilson drive Brandon into the boards. 

It was a bad hit. You knew it, the team knew it, everybody seemed to know it expect for the refs. 

You were left in the dark until the end of the game when you got a call from Bruce Cassidy. 

“He’s going to stay overnight,” Bruce was saying. He sounded exhausted, annoyed, a multitude of things. You couldn’t blame him. 

“Okay,” you ran your hands over your face. “Thank you for letting me know.” 

“Something was up with him before the game,” Bruce said. “Was he weird before he got here?” 

“About that,” you searched for the right words. “We got in a little fight. I told him I was worried about the positions he’d been putting himself in lately and he got mad at me.” 

“That explains it,” he sighed. “Thanks for letting me know, Y/N. I’ll have someone give you a call when he’s being released.” 

“Thanks, Bruce.” 

You didn’t get any sleep that night. You tossed and turned, desperately trying to find a comfortable position to no avail. All you managed to do was get yourself even more worked up. 

Brandon was used to overnights in hospitals. He had one not too long ago when he broke his leg. But that was different. He had you by his side then. Now, he was stuck in his room alone with nothing but the beeping machines for company. 

This sucked. 

You had been right. He should have listened to you and been more careful. The call he got from Patrice told him that it wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help but blame himself. 

The morning rolled around after what felt like an eternity. You got a call from a member of the team training staff telling you Brandon was being discharged. You didn’t even bother getting dressed before throwing on a pair of shoes and sliding out the door in your sweats and hoodie. 

“I’m here to pick up Brandon Carlo,” you told the nurse sitting at the front desk of the hospital. She nodded and typed away on her computer. 

“He’ll be right down if you’d like to have a seat in the waiting area,” she told you, nodding to the spaced out grouping of chairs behind you. You thanked her and sat down. You picked at your nails as you waited, something Brandon would have scolded you for had he been with you. 

“Y/N,” a different nurse called your name, grabbing your attention. You looked up to see Brandon walking towards you, limping slightly. “You’re all set to go on home.” 

“I’m sorry,” you and Brandon said at the same time the second you were in your car. 

“I’m sorry for getting angry at you and doing exactly what you told me not to do,” Brandon spoke up first. You stayed quiet and let him say what he had to say. “I know I fucked up, I know I scared you. I’m sorry.” 

He looked up at you, eyes begging for forgiveness. You smiled at him and placed your hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” your voice was low. “I was the one that fucked up. I distracted you. And that hit was bullshit, just like Marchy said. None of this is your fault.” 

“It’s not your fault either, you know,” Brandon looked up at you with big doe eyes. No wonder his nickname was Bambi. 

“Come on, let’s go home,” you started your car and pulled out of the parking lot. “I’m making pancakes.” 

“Banana pancakes?” Brandon asked, really using the doe eyes to his advantage. 

“Lucky for you I got bananas at the store yesterday,” you smiled over at him as you merged with the light, early morning traffic and headed for home. 

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