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pucked-bunnie · 18 days ago

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capturing my interest ⎜t.frederic

pairings: trent frederic x lohrei!reader genre: fluff ⎜romance ⎜ prompts: "just tell me what you want from me." ⎜photographer!reader ⎜ warnings: trent working his big brown eyes ⎜ just trent wanting the reader to love him ⎜slightly sad trent synopsis: you'd heard all about hockey players and their love for hanging girls out to dry from your brother - so you're not quite sure what to do about the bruins puppy dog forward. word count: 3.5k authors note: i combined some requests for this one! i apologise for how AWOL i've been but I hope some people enjoy this.

(unedited)

“And here is your hot chocolate with a orange and poppyseed muffin.” The server smiles as she slides the take away cup onto the table in front of you, your hand immediately swiping at your textbooks making room for her to position the cup and brown bag.

“Thank you.” You smile as she stands to move away from your table - the servers smile brightening as the door opens with a jingle. Your gaze follows the servers, watching as the large man in the navy blue suit greets her with a tip of his head, walking up to the counter with a confidence you see in a lot of the athletes you photograph.

He places his order, his voice so quiet that the server has to lean forwards to hear him properly, her hands moving quickly to get the order ready as quickly as possible. He strides to stand at the pick up counter, his phone looking tiny in his hand as he pulls it out of his pocket.

The man has to be an athlete for sure.

And he looks so familiar.

You turn back to your books, taking a long sip from your drink, a shiver running down your spine at the warm chocolatey goodness making it’s way into your belly.

“A history of photography?” A voice questions as the empty seat in front of you is pulled out, his suit tight on his thighs as he takes the seat in front of you, the black ring on his pointer finger catching the light as your gaze flinches up to his face. “Must really be capturing your interest.” He adds, a bright smile on his face as he waits for you to respond.

You stunned silence must be killing him cause he adds, “see what I did there… photography… capturing.” You nod slowly, confusion tilting your lips upwards as you continue to silently stare at the extra large man in front of you.

No seriously, what do they feed these dudes sometimes.

And seriously why is he so familiar?

“A double espresso for Trent?” The server calls out, your gaze following the man in front of you as he shoots out of his chair to grab the drink off the server, the girl smiling at him through her lashes, without a second glance towards the pretty server Trent turns just as quickly to move back to the seat in front of you.

“Double espresso?” You question as he slides back into the chair, your focus no longer on the open textbook in front of you.

“I need some energy for today?” He states, his tone raising at the end in a question, his eyebrows pinching as he glances down at your drink. “What are you? Five?” He asks, with a surprised laugh, your marshmallows perfectly melted on the top of your drink.

“Some of us prefer drinks that taste good.” You huff, the air pushing some stray pieces of hair off your forehead, your glasses pinching the bridge of your nose as you push them up higher on your face. your phone dings softly on the table besides you, the reminder of your photoshoot in 20 minutes making your hands move to close your books, shoving each one in your bag as Trent watches you quietly.

“Going somewhere?” He asks as you zip your bag closed, pulling the strap over your shoulder. “And here I am thinking we were about to have a meaningful conversation.” You can’t help the chuckle that falls out of you as you push the lid on your cup, grabbing your phone off the table as you stand smiling at the large man with his double espresso.

“I have to go to work, but it was nice unofficially meeting you, Trent.” You say softly as he leans forwards with a frown.

“Can I at least get your number or something?” He asks, your gaze flicking down to the numbers written on the side of his cup in thick black marker, before flicking back to him.

“I think someone else has beat me to it.” You tease, before leaving the cafe and Trent, the stranger glaring at the side of his cup.

“We really can’t thank you enough for filling in on such short notice.” Mia, the team organiser says as she leads your through the large arena. “Mason said you had a pretty busy schedule so we weren’t sure if you’d be available for us.” She continues, and you just nod, adjusting the strap on your shoulder as you try to keep up with the long legged manager.

“Well I cleared up my schedule just for this - can’t let my brother down.” You chuckle, as she stops in front of the two large doors leading to the teams locker room. The team already suiting up for the game against the maple leafs later tonight.

“Mason, you have a visitor.” Mia says into the locker room, motioning for you to stand besides her in the doorway, a few of the other men letting out low whistles as Mason stands from his bench, throwing a dirty towel at the goalie in the corner making the most noise.

“It’s my sister you dickheads.” He chides, his face lighting up as he spots you, rushing out the door to wrap you in a tight hug, his arms and chest still sweaty as you try to escape him.

“Mason, please I’m gonna smell like wet dog all day if you don’t let me go.” You whine, slapping at your brothers back as he just squeezes you tighter, some of his teammates watching through the double doors as they take in their young defence man holding his sister hostage.

“Oh please, you wished you could smell like this.” Mason teases, as he rubs his sweaty head on the side of your face. You wriggle free, laughing as you wipe your cheek with mock disgust. “Seriously, you need a shower. I love you, but no one should smell like that.”

Mason feigns offence, clutching his chest dramatically. “What would the fans say if they knew you talked to their favourite player like this?” His grin is infectious, and you can’t help but roll your eyes as you step back.

“Favourite my ass.” Jeremy huffs from inside the locker room.

“Probably that you need to step up your hygiene game,” you shoot back, crossing your arms. The locker room buzzes with laughter and playful shouts from the other players, a few glancing your way with curious expressions.

“Are you excited for the game tonight?” Mason asks, his tone shifting to something more serious as he leans against the doorframe.

“Absolutely. I’m ready to capture all the action,” you reply, gesturing to the camera slung across your shoulder.

Mason’s teammates are already getting dressed, a mix of focused determination and camaraderie evident in their banter. “Hey, is that really your sister?” one of them calls out, grinning. “Thought she was just a myth.”

“Yeah, she’s like the Loch Ness Monster—rarely seen but definitely real,” Mason replies, a cheeky grin spread across his face as he bumps you with his shoulder.

“Good luck tonight, Mason!” you call out with a roll of your eyes, feeling the warmth of the team’s energy wash over you. “And try not to get yourself into too much trouble out there!”

He rolls his eyes but can’t hide his smile. “No promises!”

Mia shoots you a grin, ushering you back down the hallway, a tall brunette in the second last stall in the locker room catching your attention, his AirPods shoved into his ears as he focuses on taping the blade on his stick, his head shooting up as your brother claps him on the shoulder. He exchanges a few words with Mason before his gaze lands on you, a spark of recognition flickering in his eyes.

“I’ll set you up with a spot right on the glass - don’t worry too much about getting the perfect shot just take as many as you can.” Mia says quickly, as she pushes her way through the crowd, waving a quick hello to the security guard as she walks you down the tunnel to the reserved spot right by the ice entrance.

“This is your pass - you can use this for anything from concession if you get hungry or thirsty.” Mia says one last time, making sure you had everything you needed and was comfortable before leaving you in your seat. You pull your camera out of its bag, screwing on the large lens as you adjust the camera hole making sure it would close quickly incase of flying pucks.

As you tighten the lens into place, the excitement in the air is palpable. The scent of ice and fresh paint mingles with the faint trace of sweat and adrenaline that always seems to linger in arenas. You glance around, taking in the vibrant atmosphere: fans draped in team colours, the chatter of eager voices.

When a loud cheer erupts from the stands as players start filtering onto the ice for warm-ups, your gaze flicks away from your camera catching sight of the brunette from the locker room, now clad in his gear, weaving through his warmups with effortless grace. His eyes dart around, catching the excitement from the fans occasionally stopping to look at a sign or throw a puck over the glass, but then he locks onto your gaze again, giving a quick nod before joining one of his teammates on the ice, kneeling into a stretch.

Mia’s voice echoes in your head: “Take as many as you can.” You adjust your focus, capturing the energy of the players as they stretch and shoot, their movements sharp and intentional. Each click of the shutter feels like a heartbeat in the bustling arena, and you can’t help but feel alive in this moment.

Suddenly, a powerful shot rings out, the puck soaring past the goal and echoing off the boards. You instinctively lift your camera, snapping a series of shots as the players react, laughter and shouts filling the air. Your heart races; you know you’re in your element.

The sound of a whistle blows, signalling the end of warm-ups, and the players start to make their way back down the tunnel for the final prep before the game begins. The brunette you noticed earlier glances over again, his expression shifting from concentration to something warmer as he catches your eye once more.

You can’t help but smile back, feeling a surge of confidence.

As the crowd begins to settle, you adjust your position, preparing for the game to start. The lights dim slightly, and the announcer’s voice booms through the arena, igniting the fans into a frenzy. You can feel the anticipation building, and with your camera poised and ready.

The game passes quickly - your brother most definitely finding himself in several tricky situations, the bruise already blooming on his jaw as you turn his head to inspect it.

“I had to give you a good show, didn’t I?” Mason teases as he wrenches his face from your hands, straightening out his suit as he pulls his car keys from his pocket. “Oh you don’t mind if one of the guys joins us for dinner, do you?” You brother adds just as the tall brunette from the cafe stops besides him, a sly grin on his face.

“Trent didn’t have anyone else to hang out with tonight and I said it would be cool if he joined us.” Mason explains, your brother oblivious to the way the brown eyed demon nods his head mockingly, a big grin breaking out on his face as you plaster a tight grin on yours nodding your confirmation.

“Of course, the more the merrier,” you say, forcing a casualness into your voice that doesn’t quite match the flutter in your stomach.

Trent leans against his own car, his arms crossed and a playful glint in his eyes. “Are we heading to yours?” Trent asks pointing to your little brother, who nods his head in response before they both turn towards you, “because I hear your cooking is legendary,” he quips, his gaze lingering a moment too long on you.

Mason chuckles, oblivious to the tension building between you and Trent. “Yeah, she’s got some skills. You should’ve seen her last Thanksgiving—almost set the kitchen on fire with her fancy pants turkey cooking method!”

You roll your eyes, trying to mask your embarrassment with a laugh. “That was one time! I’ve improved since then.”

“Right,” Trent smirks, “can’t wait to see what kind of culinary masterpiece you whip up tonight.”

With a shrug, you slide into Mason’s care, heart racing. The drive feels longer than usual, filled with playful banter and teasing, but you can’t shake the feeling of Trent watching you in the parking lot, his car closely following behind yours.

As you pull into the driveway, Trent gets out of his car first, moving into the building with an easy confidence. You try to focus on the task at hand—dinner—but every time you catch Trent’s eye, a heat rushes to your cheeks.

“Need any help?” Trent asks, leaning against the counter as you pull ingredients from the fridge, his gaze steady and almost challenging, the soft smile never leaving his lips.

“Just chopping some veggies,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I can handle a knife.” He says, his face more serious but his eyes still watching you curiously.

You chuckle, the tension shifting as you both work side by side, the rhythm of conversation punctuating the sounds of slicing and chopping.

“So, what’s your deal?” Trent asks suddenly, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. “What do you do when you’re not rescuing Mason from himself?”

You pause, considering how much to reveal. “Oh, you know. Just the usual—trying to keep him out of trouble, studying, that sort of thing.”

“Oh come on, I think there had to be more than that.” Trent says picking up the now diced carrots as placing them in the bowl besides you, placing his knife on the empty chopping board to cross his arms over his chest, “you have to give me something to work with here.”

“What are you trying to do, Trent?” You question stoping the stirring of your pot as you cross your own arms across your chest mirroring his position. “What’s with all the prying?”

“I’m just trying to get to know you a little bit…” He responds with a shrug, “maybe have that meaningful conversation you skipped out on before.” You can’t help but let out a shocked laugh at his words, his eyes softening as he steps away from where he leans against the counter, his arms dropping from across his chest as he closes the distance between you, your steps taking you backwards until you press against the fridge.

“You can’t tell me that a little bit of you didn’t feel that jump of excitement when you saw me in the locker room.” Trent’s voice is lower than before, his eyes flicking to the entrance of the kitchen, making sure your brother was still perched on the couch playing his video game. “Because trust me I felt it too.” You let out a shaky breath keeping your arms close to your chest as you feel his own press against you.

“The onions are going to burn if I don’t stir them.” You say quickly, clearing your throat as slipping out from where he’s trapped you, quickly stirring your ingredients in the pot before adding the carrots he had just chopped. You hear Trent let out a long huff as he moves away from the fridge, pulling himself up and onto the counter to watch you move around the kitchen.

“Just tell me what you want from me.” Trent says his voice almost a whine as you add the canned tomatoes to the pot.

“Huh?” You question back.

“Just tell me what I have to do to get you to agree to a date with me.” He says, quickly adding, “Please.” You look up at him, his eyebrows furrowed as he pouts slightly, his soft brown eyes capturing yours.

God, you’ve always been a sucker for brown eyes.

“Hockey players aren’t really my type.” You say quickly, “not really a one and done kind of girl, you know.” You add, thinking the extra information will help get the point across, your brother warnings about his teammates ringing through your head.

“And you think I’m a one and done kind of guy?” Trent’s question throws you off guard, the playful tone he’s had this whole time, gone completely, his hand lifting him off the counter as he nods slowly, “good to know.” He says quietly before leaving the kitchen, joining your brother on the couch.

The dinner passes by with you each digging into your bowls of lasagna soup, the recaps for the other hockey games that night playing on the T.V. the bowls discarded onto the coffee table as you finish eating, your brother quickly checking the time on his phone.

“Ah shit, we better be getting you back home, you’ve got classes tomorrow.” He says quickly, your head nodding in agreement, standing from your seat to grab your purse off the counter, checking that you have all your belongings.

“I can always drive her home if you want? No point you leaving and then coming back.” Trent offers quickly, gathering the bowls from the table and depositing them into the kitchen, snatching one of the take away containers with the leftover soup off the counter.

“Nah man, I don’t want to bother you with that.” Mason says quickly, searching the counter for his keys.

“It’s really no bother, let me do you this favour.” Trent reassures, your brother shooting his gaze towards you in question.

“It’s fine Mase, he said it’s not an issue.” You say quickly, stepping forwards to give your brother a quick hug, poking on his bruise for good measure as you step away, “you played good today kid.” You note, your brother scratching the back of his neck as he walks the two of you to the door.

“Text me when you get home.” Your brother says and you nod quickly following Trent out to his car as you hear the door to Mason’s building close behind you.

“You really didn’t have to drive me home.” You mumble as you slide into the passenger seat of the car, shooting a glance over the strangely quiet man besides you. He just nods in response, holding out his phone open on the maps app for you to input your address.

“I’m sorry for what I said before, I didn’t really think it would hurt your feelings.” You say after ten solid minutes of pure silence, other then the occasional directions from Trents phone.

“No cause why would you? Why would assuming I’m a man whore hurt my feelings?” Trent says his tone sarcastic as he tightens his hands on the steering wheel.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You did, and that’s okay - I’m sure Mason has given you his fare share of warnings.” Trent says shooting a glance your way before letting out a long sigh, “I just wanted a chance, you know. I didn’t think I was such a horrible option.” His words have a tone of joking in them but you can’t help the way your eyebrows lift in sympathy, your hand reaching out to grab hold of his forearm.

“You’re not a horrible option, Trent.” You say quietly, “I didn’t think one stupid comment was going to stop you from capturing my attention.” You pause for a second, watching as the corner of his mouth tilts up slightly, the callback to his horrendous pun at the cafe making some of the tension release from his body.

“Did you see what I did there?” You joke softly, pulling your hand away from his arm, his hand leaving the steering wheel quickly to chase after it.

“I definitely saw what you did there.” He comments, his hand finally finding yours, latching your fingers together as he sits it in your lap. “So, if I’m not a horrible option then why are you trying to delay our future together.” You let out a snort of laughter as he pulls into your driveway, his hand still gripping yours as you look up at your apartment building with a sigh.

“We can go on one date.” You agree, Trent’s smile growing as he releases your hand, rushing to open his door and slip out of the car, his footsteps heavy on the concrete as he rushes around to your side to pull the door open.

“I’ll take whatever I can get.” He says quickly, offering a hand to help you out of the car, closing the door gently behind you. “Besides we’ve already had our first fight, we’re essentially married at this point.”

“Goodnight, Trent.” You chuckle, your smile matching your own as you lift onto your tiptoes to press a soft kiss against his cheek. His neck a flaming red as you make the way into your building, glancing back over your shoulder to see the hockey player pumping his fist in victory as he rounds his car to slip back in the driver seat.

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl #nhl fic #prompt request #trent frederic x reader #trent frederic #trent frederic fanfic #trent frederic imagine

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happilysmythe · 6 months ago

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❥ 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧

trent frederic.

word count: 5.0k

warning: explicit content

"can you blow my mind?" — tyla

A/N: i recently received a request for trent and a leafs fan. i was given creative freedom and this is what i came up with. hope you like it, nonny <3

- - -

Bruins win Game 7 in OT.

The headlines came out at a rapid rate, informing the rest of the world that the Boston Bruins made it out of the first round and turned the Toronto Maple Leafs into mulch. Again.

Trent Frederic, along with a few teammates, were on too much of a high to return to their rooms at the hotel they’d been staying in just yet. Though they were home in Boston, coach Jim Montgomery thought it would be smarter to have the guys stay in a hotel instead of going back to their homes and apartments. Team bonding, he said.

The bunch set off for the bar inside the hotel, only a few blocks away from TD Garden, waiting a few hours before slipping in nonchalantly. They weren’t trying to get outed too fast, and they usually didn’t. Even once they were recognized, not much came of it. Most people were too drunk by then to make a scene, anyway.

So they sat down at the bar and ordered a few beers, celebrating accordingly and talking amongst themselves. They would finally let loose for just a night before the inevitable start of round 2 in just two days. They’d be having practice the next morning and flying down to Sunrise, Florida to face the Panthers, who were on their extensive break after knocking the Lightning in just 5 games.

Trent decided he’d had enough after his fourth beer, so he left his share and stood up to make his way out. As he turned around, his body hit something with a thud. He looked down and saw what it was that he came into contact with; a thin blonde woman with her arms out, jaw slack, and an empty hand that once held her drink.

Oh, and a Maple Leafs jersey.

“Oh, shit,” Trent muttered, compressing his lips.

You scoffed, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I can get you a new one.”

You looked up, a look of guilt on your face as your hands fell back down to your sides. “Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve been looking where I was going, too—”

You paused.

“Where do I know you?”

He remained silent, shooting you a look as if to tell you that it should be obvious. It wasn’t long before your face dropped and it hit you. He suppressed a grin at your realization and parted his lips to speak.

“Name’s Trent,” he spoke smoothly, “but something tells me you already figured that out.”

“Well, you’re one of the last people I’d like to see right now,” you rolled your eyes, arms folded. “What’s a guy like you doing at some random bar at,” you looked at your watch, “12 in the morning after the game where you just knocked my team out of the playoffs?”

“Had to celebrate somehow,” he winked.

“Oh, god,” you grimaced. “I really do hate you guys.”

“Well, aren’t you a little ray of sunshine,” he laughed, putting his abnormally large hands on his hips. Your eyes subtly followed their path.

“Lighten up,” he teased. “C’mon. What’s your name? I know you’re not a,” he pinched the fabric of your jersey and pulled it to see the numbers, “Marner. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

You sighed at his remark and told him your name, but he made a face afterward.

“Too long.”

“Too long?”

“I think I’ll stick to Marner,” he told you, much to your dismay.

“Gross,” you replied irritatedly. “I don’t particularly feel like giving you the privilege of using a nickname. Just use my real name like everyone else. ”

“I’m all set, actually. I think I’ll stick to mine.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

“You gonna let me buy your drink or keep bitching about who I am?”

“Fine,” you sighed, “buy me the damn drink.”

He and you made your way to the other side of the bar, far enough away from the rest of the guys and the few friends you went with that you wouldn’t be noticed. You sat next to each other on the bar stools, Trent talking your ear off and you reluctantly replying with mostly one-word responses.

“You can’t be that angry with me,” he finally spoke, breaking another silence. “I’m not the whole team, you know.”

“I can and I will,” you shrugged, sipping your almost-empty drink.

“If you won’t talk, then I’ll just have to make you talk.”

He put his elbows down on the table and turned his head to face you, “Why’d you decide to come out in public after that game? I wouldn’t have even bothered to show my face in a bar wearing that. You here with other people or something?”

“I came with a couple of friends.”

“Doesn’t answer my first question.”

You looked down. “They wanted to come down here. I told them it was probably a bad idea because of the fact that we’re, you know, Leafs fans. They did it anyway so I just tagged along.”

“Bet you didn’t expect to run into me,” he nudged you with his shoulder, bringing a faint smile to your lips. “There you go,” he teased when he noticed your expression. “See? I’m not so bad.”

“Fraternizing with the enemy is a bad look for a woman like me,” you retorted, a playful undertone to your words. It was uncharacteristic compared to the closed-off manner you had with every other response. You wouldn’t admit that, however.

“Oh, she jokes,” he took the final sip of the drink he’d bought himself upon sitting with you, even after deciding he’d had his last beforehand.

“Shut up, Frederic.”

“We’ve regressed to my last name now? Can’t even call me by my first?”

“But you won’t use mine at all,” you rolled your eyes, “Trent.”

You looked at him for maybe a tad longer than you should’ve, eyes slowly moving down his body. He wore a white collared shirt that hugged his arms and gray dress pants that looked awfully tight around his thighs. You couldn’t help but notice the facial hair he’d grown since the start of the round, giving him a gingery mustache with a somewhat patchy beard. You’d seen what he looked like before that and were undoubtedly intrigued by it, regardless of whatever grudges you held against him. But you couldn’t let him know that.

So you turned to face the television above the bar, watching the commercial in a quiet trance as if nothing happened.

“Hey,” he tapped his finger on the bartop, diverting your attention back to him. “Tell me something,” he softly requested as you looked back, adjusting his body to face yours. “Why did you let me buy you the new drink if you weren’t going to talk to me, hm?”

You swallowed, “I wasn’t going to be rude.”

“The real reason,” he pressed.

“There is no real reason.”

“Alright,” he nodded, “so why were you staring at me before?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He lowered his voice and brought his face just slightly closer, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “You’re not a very good liar, you know that?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I mean,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders, “unless I didn’t see you looking for a while there. But I’m pretty sure I know what I saw.”

“Just…just shut up, Trent, alright?”

“Sounds like I hit a nerve,” he noted and you rolled your eyes. “You know, you’re cute when you’re irritable.”

His grin widened when you shook your head again, promptly informing him of how annoying he was once again. “But if I’m really being honest here,” he lifted his fingers and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, “I think you’re pretty.”

At this, your hardened exterior softened. Your head turned just slightly so that he was in your field of view and you sighed gently. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

“I, um,” you cleared your throat, taking a breath, “I was looking before.”

“I know,” he softly responded, hand slipping down until his palm rested on your thigh. Initially, you flinched at the contact, but your muscles relaxed when you realized it was a warm gesture rather than one with malicious intent.

“You don’t have to be so cold,” he told you. “No matter who I play for, I’m just a guy.”

You were more attracted to him than you wanted to let on, and it surely didn’t help that he was being nicer to you. You suppressed a smile and faced him fully.

“It’s not that, it’s—it’s the point,” you flatly responded.

“You can look at me again,” he teased, thumb rubbing your thigh. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Your gaze lingered on him again, eyes flitting down to his lips before you looked away. It wasn’t hard for him to see through you—after all, you allowed him to keep his hand where it was, even after refuting his words. He took notice of your wandering eyes and finally pieced it together.

“Like the new look, eh?”

Your brows furrowed and you swallowed, “What new look…?”

“I think you know what I’m talking about,” he replied with certainty. “You have a thing for the scruff?”

“Please. I don’t even know what you looked like before that,” you lied, taking an unsteady breath.

“Doesn’t change that you were looking at it, does it?”

“Well…” you trailed off, lips parted as you tried to think up an excuse. “No,” you finally gave up, letting your head hang down. “It doesn’t, because I have seen you before and I do have a thing for it. For you,” you shook your head, laughing at the reality of how weak you truly were. How stupid you must have looked to him. “So tease me all you want, say that you told me so—you’re right.”

A ringed finger slipped under your chin and tilted your head toward him, his face mere inches away from yours.

“I’m not going to tease you.”

You swallowed, expression falling as your eyes locked with his. They were brown, you noticed. And they were…warm. They largely contrasted how he looked at you previously. It brought you to an entranced sort of state.

His touch was soft, comforting. But in a way that made you want him more. Caused your mind to wander to places you knew it shouldn’t have gone. It felt good. Really good.

And you had no business wondering what the rest of him would feel like on you.

“Where are you staying?” you blurted out.

“Upstairs.”

“Take me,” the words left your mouth before you could protest.

An eyebrow raised and his grin turned to a smile. “Gladly,” he whispered, lowering his hand and standing up.

He held his hand out and you hesitantly took it, allowing him to discreetly walk you toward the exit of the bar. You ducked when you saw your friends, praying that by some miracle they didn’t see you walk out with Trent Frederic.

“Trent,” you whispered, clutching onto him harder now that you couldn’t be hidden by the darkness of the bar any longer. “What if someone saw?”

“You would’ve known by now. Trust me,” he reassured you as the elevator doors slid open. You walked in and the doors shut, enclosing you in the small space. “And if anyone did,” he started, fingers brushing against the nape of your neck, “it’s none of their business, anyway.”

“Mhm,” you agreed softly, eyes beginning to close when you felt his warm breath on your neck.

“See? Not so hard to agree, is it?”

“Mm…no…”

He laughed softly in your ear and pressed a tiny kiss to the skin behind it. He intricately placed a few more on the exposed skin, prompting a faint hum from your lips as the doors slid back open. His hand found its place on your waist as he gently pushed you out, guiding you down the hallway and finally stopping in front of his door.

By now, you’d become urgent—urgent to feel his lips on yours no matter how much you told yourself it was a stupid idea. You lived in Toronto; a whopping 500 miles away. And he played for Boston, the team you hated with a passion so strong that you vowed to never let yourself be endeared by them. Yet there you were, standing next to the forward who contributed to your favorite team’s loss, wanting nothing more than for him to make you feel oh, so good.

And he would.

The door clicked open and he pushed the lever down, stepping aside to let you in. He was quick to pin you to the door with his body, arm coming up behind your head to lock it and toss the room card to the side.

“I can’t believe I let you charm me.”

“What can I say,” he rasped, leaning in closer, “I know how to get a girl in my room.”

His lips finally connected with yours and you immediately reciprocated, hand flattening against his chest and gripping the material of his shirt. You pulled him closer, slipping your free hand around his neck before tilting your head to deepen the kiss. The hair above his lips rubbed against your skin, the feeling eliciting a faint hum from your mouth into his. He grinned at this and hooked his fingers under the blue jersey you wore, pulling away promptly and carefully lifting it up.

“Taking this shit off,” he mumbled, pulling the fabric over your head and discarding it to the floor. “You’d look much better with mine.”

You rolled your eyes, “Not going to happen, Trent.”

“We’ll see,” he grinned, moving his lips to your neck and marking up the skin, drawing whimpers from your mouth.

Your hand snaked into his hair, fingers threading between the dusty ginger strands as you pushed his head closer. He kissed up to your jaw, sliding his hand up to your neck, the other placed on the bare skin of your hip. His fingers pressed into the nape of your neck and his thumb rested just under your chin, hand pressing the back of your head against the door as his lips kissed a path down your jawline.

“Shit,” you moaned breathily, reaching for the buttons on his shirt as his mouth returned to yours hungrily.

You worked your way down, the material of his shirt parting and exposing his skin as each button fell open. His tongue slipped between your lips, grazing your teeth before rolling over yours languidly. Soft fingers untucked his open shirt from his pants and began to trace his stomach, moving slowly up to his firm chest. The action caused the large hand around your neck to tighten its hold, prying a moan from your throat.

“Didn’t know,” you panted, “—didn’t know you wore a chain.”

“Like it, mm?”

The way he grinned down at you brought a lump to your throat. He made you nervous. Weak, even. And the height at which he stood compared to you surely didn’t help. So you nodded curtly in response, hoping he’d take the hint and not press you further.

But he took it and instead removed his hand from your neck to slide it down and meet the other at your lower back, promptly hoisting you up. Your hands moved to his face and held it while you continued to kiss him, him walking the two of you away from the door and in the direction of the bed. You kicked your shoes off just as he grabbed a towel from the rack on the wall outside the bathroom and laid it lazily atop the sheets. He then lowered you onto your back and let go, allowing you to lie comfortably on the bed as he remained on his knees in front of you.

He quickly shed himself of the torn-open shirt and tossed it toward the empty bed on the other side of the room. His body soon hovered over yours, an arm on the bed on each side of your head as he kissed you again. His lips moved to your neck once again, working the skin until soft moans slipped through your parted ones.

“Trent,” you exhaled, chest rising and falling deeply, “isn’t…isn’t someone else staying here with you? There’s—mm—two beds.”

“There was,” he mumbled into your skin, moving down to your collarbones.

“So couldn’t we get—”

“Was,” he repeated. “He already went home to his girlfriend. And I have both room keys.” He chuckled softly and reached around your back to unclasp your bra, the fabric coming loose on your chest. “So relax.”

You nodded and lifted your arms for him to pull it off, him letting it fall from his hand before kissing a path down the valley of your chest. His body moved down as he continued down to your stomach, then to your waist where his fingers hooked in your pants and slid them down your legs.

You kicked them off and opened your legs, allowing Trent to slip between them. He gently kissed your inner thigh, slowly working his way up until he reached the lacy fabric that covered your skin. He looked up, making and not breaking eye contact with you as he took the waistband between his teeth and tugged the fabric slowly down your legs. As he rose upwards, they and your pants were dropped to the floor.

Warm breath fanned the skin between your aching thighs, awaiting his touch oh, so impatiently. His fingers brushed the area, dragging themselves slowly up and down. His eyes flitted up to you, a faint grin playing on his lips before focusing back down.

“God, you’re wet,” he rasped, leaning down and settling his face between your thighs, your legs atop his shoulders. His hands wrapped around your outer thighs and gripped them, pulling you in promptly.

“Especially for someone who claims to hate me so much.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned, “Think that’ll make me like you any more?”

“No, but maybe this will.”

With that, his mouth wrapped around your clit, tongue swirling around and eliciting a gasp of shock from your parted lips. Your eyes widened as he sucked gently, hands kneading the warm flesh of your thighs.

He then trailed downward, planting small, light kisses on the sensitive flesh, all before his tongue carefully parted your folds and delved slowly inside. Your fingers gingerly threaded into his strands, palm flattening itself on the back of his head as you pushed him down, your body weak with the need for more friction.

The hair that had recently grown above his lips brushed against your skin, rubbing back and forth forcefully and bringing meaning to the term, ‘hurts so good.’

“God, fuck,” you groaned, hands tenaciously gripping the sheets and his curls as his tongue moved in a rhythm that was just enough to make you long for more.

He lapped at you mercilessly, expert movements of his tongue coaxing soft moans from your mouth. A cocky grin stretched across his lips as he brought you to the brink, then pulled away, forcing a whimper from you at the loss of contact.

A large hand was removed from your thigh and brought between your legs, knuckles once again dragging lazily along the sensitive, needy skin, but refusing to give you the satisfaction of doing what you wanted most. He was teasing you; punishing you for the way in which you treated him earlier without giving him as much as a chance to prove himself.

“Trent,” you whined impatiently, hips writhing involuntarily against his bearded face.

“Mm…what?”

You refused to admit the irrevocable attraction you had to him because you didn’t want to let him win. And now he was being a bitch to you, just like you were to him. He chuckled softly and pressed the tip of his finger to your entrance, allowing you to feel the small bit of pressure that came with it.

“Please,” you whimpered, fingers tightening in his curls.

Enough was enough and he pushed the finger in, drawing a moan from your lips before adding another and thrusting them in and out with no room for complaint. The cold metal of his ring brushed against your sensitive inner walls and you gasped at the initial contact, your rampant mind having forgotten about the jewelry to begin with. And deep down, you loved it.

His mouth returned to your skin, tongue licking small stripes on the mound of flesh above his fingers, the scruff on his chin rubbing roughly against it. You knew you were going to have burns on your skin caused by his facial hair but you didn’t care; you just wanted to keep feeling him.

“Trent, don’t stop.”

He laughed quietly and sped up the pace of his fingers, urging you even closer to the edge. Your thighs closed in around his head, hand still pushing his head down. He hummed in satisfaction, the noise vibrating against your skin as he felt you clench around his long fingers.

His lips sucked on your clit in a steady pattern, causing your release to rip through you, prying a moan from deep within your stomach. You fisted the sheets tighter as your hips writhed against his face and fingers, legs beginning to shake from the pressure. Trent continued to work you through it, tongue lapping up the wetness that accumulated until you sunk back down into the mattress, spent.

Slowly he removed his fingers, first bringing them to his lips to lick them clean before rising back up. You inched backward on the bed until your head pressed against the pillow, Trent following and planting himself on his knees between your legs. His fingers reached down and fumbled with the buckle on his belt, eyes never leaving your body in the process. It wasn’t long before his belt haphazardly hit the floor, then his pants and his painfully hard cock was freed from its constraints. A rough palm placed itself on your knee, rubbing it slowly.

“Trent,” you swallowed, drawing his attention back up to your face. “Con—”

He raised his hand to cut you off, a gold wrapper resting comfortably between his index and middle fingers. The action having rendered you silent, he promptly took the foil between his teeth and pulled, spitting out the excess before taking out the latex and rolling it onto himself. You soon felt the pressure of him at your entrance, legs subconsciously widening to let him slip between them further, then heard the sound of him groaning as he pushed into you.

You swore it was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard.

He leaned forward slowly, giving you just a moment’s time to adjust to his size as he stretched you out. Your breaths were unsteady, eyes screwed shut as your fingers maintained their forceful grip on the sheets around you. Your mind was racing, but you knew one thing for certain—the man was about to fucking blow it. His body hovered above yours as he kissed a path from your stomach up to your neck, hands pressing into the mattress on each side of you.

“Where did you,” you breathed, “get that?”

“Pocket,” he rasped, mustache brushing against your neck.

Eyes wide, you responded, “That’s not—”

“Relax,” he mumbled, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. “I put it in there today.”

Then you impatiently lifted a hand to the back of his head and pushed his lips onto yours, kissing him urgently and wordlessly telling him to just move. He obeyed your silent command and pushed his hips into yours, burying his dick into you before pulling back, leaving only the tip inside. He repeated the process at a steady, slow rhythm—tortuously slow, at that—until your back was arching, hand in his hair sliding down to his shoulder blade as the long, coffin-shaped nails dug into his soft skin. The chain that you’d noticed earlier tapped against your cheek, the feeling provoking you to throw your head back against the pillow.

His hand slid up your front, fingers curling around to the nape of your neck and thumb resting under your chin once again, pulling your head back up as he quickened his pace, driving into you with more force. Every inch of his thick cock slid smoothly along your velvety walls, your mouth frozen in its open state as his lips worked at your neck again. And god, you just couldn’t understand what made you hate that guy in the first place. It must have slipped your mind completely.

Upon the first thrust of his hips, he felt just how tight you enveloped him. The immense pressure of you wrapped around his strained length, practically squeezing it. The age-old trick of conjuring up the most repulsive of thoughts seemed nothing but moronic to him in the past, yet for some reason he found himself naming off presidents in his head to prevent from coming so fucking soon. He only wished that he could feel it; really feel it, if it weren’t for that godforsaken rubber that separated him from you.

And he’d make it his mission to do so, whether you lived five hundred miles away or not.

He just hoped he’d last when he finally did.

The hand around your throat closed just slightly, using just enough pressure to threaten your intake of breath without causing any pain. It was delicious. You didn’t have the will to fight it—your body had already submitted to him long before, and there wasn’t much that you could focus on other than the feeling of him roughly thrusting into you, lips marking up one side of your neck while his hand firmly gripped the other.

The sounds of your mixed moans bounced off of the walls and you began to wonder whether anyone could hear it or not; if any of his teammates were close by, walking back to their rooms from the bar. The thought instilled enough fear for you to weakly voice it.

“What if—ah—what if someone hears us?”

“Let them,” he rasped, kissing behind your ear.

“But—”

“God, shut up,” he pushed his lips to yours, swallowing your words, moans, and expletives that threatened to destroy your mediocre attempt to stay quiet. His tongue rolled over yours, low hums reverberating in your mouth and filling your ears.

Finally, he released his hold from your neck, allowing the air to flow smoothly into your lungs once more. The hand reached for yours, roughly threading his fingers between yours before pushing the two forward and pinning the back of your hand to the headboard behind you. You let out a whimper at the sudden contact but quickly gripped his hand with a matching force to his as he hit the sweet spot inside you and a familiar pit in your stomach formed.

“Close,” you panted, back arching off of the bed and forcing your front to press firmly into his.

“I know,” he told you, grip tightening as the taut line in your stomach snapped.

His mouth enveloped yours again to swallow your noises, tongue swiping against your bottom lip. Your inner walls constricted around his length as you hit your climax, nails digging into his back as you grasped desperately at him for stability, support—any sort of strength that he could provide you with. And he did, grunting sporadically as he fucked you through your second orgasm, thrusts growing sloppier.

It wasn’t long before he twitched inside you, hitting his own peak and letting out a deep moan. Your name—to your surprise—left his lips in a slurred form, repeating it softly as if it were a hymn. Sweat coated your forehead, droplets dripping slowly down your face, and the frontward strands of your hair had grown wet. His curls dripped with his own sweat as his lips hovered just centimeters above yours, warm breath fanning your face and gaze aligning with yours.

You finally swallowed, “Wow.”

“Mm,” he hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, hand letting go of yours and gently running up and down your side.

He waited a moment and carefully pulled out, the action drawing your eyes shut before he slipped off the used latex and disposed of it. You adjusted yourself as he did so, ridding the bed of the towel and briefly cleaning yourself up before you felt a piece of fabric hit your arm. You looked down to see a large, black t-shirt on the bed and grabbed it, quickly slipping it on as he walked back over. He motioned you under the sheets and you silently obliged.

Your back pressed against his chest, chain pressing into the skin as an arm wrapped around you and a hand flattened on your stomach. His other fingers pushed your hair to the side, exposing the skin to his eyes, and he saw the faint marks his fingers left on your neck. A pair of lips brushed against your ear and the soft rasp of his voice returned.

“You know, that’s a Bruins shirt,” he teased, scruff grazing your damp skin as his lips connected with your shoulder.

“Mhm,” you flatly responded.

“Going against your word pretty fast, eh?”

“Yeah, well,” you started, nuzzling back into him. “I told you I hated you and ended up in your bed, so,” you turned to him slightly, “unreliable source.”

He chuckled softly and brought his fingers up to brush your hair back, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “Night, Marner.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, and he laughed one final time before closing his eyes and relaxing into you.

So, against everything that you stood for just hours before, you fell asleep in Trent Frederic’s arms without much forethought. In his shirt and his bed, effectively leaving your friends behind because they’d for some odd reason just slipped your mind completely.

And when Trent woke up the next morning, he was no longer in your company, much to his dismay. Any trace of your presence the night before had perished, down to the towel on the floor. But there was one thing—one saving grace that caught his eye as he scanned the room.

A piece of paper on the nightstand with a phone number scribbled on it and a small note below it that read,

“For the next time you’re in Toronto.”

#trent frederic #boston bruins #fanfic #hockey #trent frederic fic #boston bruins imagine #hockey fic #trent frederic imagine #trent frederic smut #trent frederic x reader #toronto maple leafs #t. frederic

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leafsbabe · 4 months ago

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HOCKEY PLAYERS TAKING YOU ON A DATE

for @2manytabsopen sorry it’s a day late happy birthday ily!

Lucas Raymond

he would take simple dates and turn them into something great

so when he invites you over to watch a movie you think he simple wants to watch a movie

maybe cuddle a little on the couch

but that would be too easy for Lucas

no this guy has built an entire cozy pillow fort with fairy lights and everything

can’t decide if this would be funnier if he already had fairy lights laying around or if he went and bought them for the date

he’s got like ten different snacks in bowl and because he knows movie theater snacks hit different he has Mo on speed dial to go and get some from the nearest cinema if you want

made a few preliminary decisions but let’s you pick the movie(s) you want to watch

compliments you so much if you dressed up but also offers you some of his clothes if you want to get comfy

starts and loses a popcorn war

Matt Rempe

Matt would take you out to explore the zoo because it would be something the two of you can do that’s a little active but not too much

part of him would want to skip the boring animals but he’ll look at them for you

actually reads the little information boards and then tells you little fun facts

makes fun of animals with weird names IT’S NOT THEIR FAULT THEY DIDN’T NAME THEMSELVES

insists on watching the public feedings like this boy wants to see some penguins get fishes thrown at them

buys matching overpriced merch hats because he wants you to be protected from the sun but also not feel awkward for wearing a funny hat alone

also buys you overpriced zoo ice cream to share #romance

secretly buys you one of those animal partnerships where you sponsor a specific animal and surprises you with it after your date like congratulations you’re now the proud sponsor of a tiger named Marilou or something

totally down to take cute pictures with the animals but he’ll probably have a black eye in them and joke that a group of turtles beat him up or that he got it from fighting one of the bears

has his arm around your shoulder for almost the entire date in a very cool and nonchalant way and definitely isn’t screaming internally the whole time

Trent Frederic

he would ask you for a list of things you’d like to do on a date so that he can pick one to surprise you

because he doesn’t want to take you to something you don’t enjoy

when he sees your list his eyes are immediately drawn to the art museum since he’s never been to one before

likes that he can experience it for the first time with you

pays about half as much attention to the painting as you do

but pays a lot of attention to you and how you react to the art

takes a while to find his favorite painting when you challenge each other to pick the one you like most

he likes the sculptures, even if he does get a little close to them

definitely doesn’t use that as an excuse to hold your hand while you walk through the museum

gets a postcard with your favorite painting in the museum shop because it now reminds him of you

#lucas raymond #matt rempe #trent frederic #mini headcanons #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #lucas raymond imagine #lucas raymond headcanon #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe headcanon #trent frederic imagine #trent frederic headcanon

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hottiesforhockey · 22 days ago

Text

✧ navigation ✧

ABOUT: This is a fan-fiction blog centered around hockey players and the nhl, please not that not all requests will be completed and may be deleted if not within my comfort zone.

BLOG UNDER CONSTRUCTION; SOME LINKS MAY NOT WORK/ARE NOT POSTED YET

⎜ inbox status : open⎜

⎜ fic requests : open⎜

⎜chat & questions : open ⎜

⎜upcoming ⎜

⎜ m.list ⎜

⎜NO TAG LISTS! ⎜

⎜who i write for ⎜

nico hischier

dawson mercer

alexander holtz

john marino

luke hughes

jack hughes

quinn huges

mat barzal

elias pettersson

trent frederic

jeremy swayman

auston matthews

joseph woll

cole caufield

jamie drysdale

matthew knies

seth jarvis

cale makar

jesperi kotkaniemi

andrei svechnikov

jack drury

jj peterka

matt rempe

braden schneider

mason lohrei

literally almost anyone

⎜what i write ⎜

angst

romance (sfw + nsfw)

alternate universes (e.g. soulmate au, college au etc.)

fluff

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chaotickryptonitetree · 11 months ago

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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

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snorky · 5 months ago

Note

hiiii im back to very respectfully request more trent frederic! literally anything works if its 500 words or 3000 i do not care.

- anon 🌹

Tell Me A Sweet, Sweet Lie

Hey y’all! And hi again to the lovely requester, anon 🌹. I hope you all are doing well and lovely, and I deeply apologize again for this very delayed post, life has not been too sunshine and rainbows, but that’s for another time. A sweet Trent Frederic x F!Reader, strangers to lovers, fake dating, summer-time party fic for y’all. I hope you all enjoy this fic, and remember to take care of yourself!

Pairing: Trent Frederic x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Some creep/sleazy dude (ew), Fake Dating, (let me know if I need to add anything)

—

As the summer sun seemed to beam onto her skin delicately, her sundress swayed in the wind, all whimsical and magic sewn into the hem. Her drink swirled in her grasp, a non-alcoholic refresher as she was the designated driver for her friends, who were talking to their partners and their friends.

She didn’t mind the lack of company, but rather, she savored it as it felt like it was her only time to herself in such a busy and hectic life.

Laughter and easy conversation could be heard from around her, little snip-bits of people catching up with one another after a while, revisiting old and fond memories, and overall, just seizing the moment as they all reminisced.

A small bonfire was started further off from the house, people setting up their chairs and blankets to gather around the blazing warmth, with some holding bags of marshmallows and chocolate for s’mores. It was a small detail, and yet it reminded her about her youth, eating the sugary sweetness until she was laughing on the ground, energy and hyperness zipping through her.

As she was lost in her thoughts, she felt an arm slide around her waist. “Hey beautiful, wanna ditch this party and go back to my place?”

Stepping away from the strange person, whom she could barely recognize from her friends and her mutual friends alike, she shook her head. “No, no thanks.” She waved her hand in kind dismissal, hoping to not escalate the situation further. “I need to drive my friends back home,”

Eyeing her up and down, the look in his eyes made her sick to her stomach, unease starting to settle in her. “I’m sure they won’t notice that we’ll be gone for a bit—” His hot breath fanned over her neck uncomfortably, causing her to shrink away.

“I have a boyfriend!” she blurted. It was a quick, most likely, out-of-pocket response, but her mind ran a little empty in trying to figure out how to deter this stranger away from her.

He looked around the back yard, trying to search for this said ‘boyfriend’ of hers. “I don’t see him around here,” he scoffed.

Putting a finger up, she gave him a lopsided smile. “One moment, he’s inside I think—”

She ran off towards the direction of the backdoor of the house, hoping to find someone that could be her ‘boyfriend’ for a brief moment.

And with her luck, she ran into someone carrying a bowl of chips. He looked a little dorky if she could be truly honest, with curly light brown hair peeking out from his baseball cap, a gently soft face to tie it all together.

“I’m so sorry, but I need you to do a really quick favor for me,” she whispered in a rushed sequence.

He looked at her with a confused expression for a brief moment before responding. “Yeah? What is it?”

She bit the inside of her cheek nervously, hoping that this wouldn’t backfire terribly. “Pretend to be my boyfriend, just for like, the next few moments—” she looked at him, an apology prepared in her head in case he didn’t want to. “—please.”

A small smile formed on his face, “Tell me the ground rules and I’m all set.”

She sighed as a wave of relief washed over her, wiping her palms on her dress. “Well okay, first, I need to know your name. And secondly, I give you permission to touch me—like, arm around my waist—but nothing more!” A warm flush was visible on her neck and face from embarrassment, causing him to let out a small chuckle.

“Okay, okay, I kinda get it—and my name is Trent.”

He stuck out his hand for her to shake, and she introduced herself to him as she took his hand. Her hand felt perfect in his own, their palms molding together as if they were meant to be, although he wouldn’t openly exclaim that since he just met her.

Her demeanor was angelic, the evening sun not denying it a single bit, and it pulled him in deeper, wanting to be around her presence more, savoring every moment with her. He didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed her earlier on at the party, but he was beyond grateful nonetheless.

Pulling away, she clasped her own hands together. “Great!” She turned around and started to walk back towards the patio door, glancing over her shoulder as she noticed that he hadn’t moved a step. “You coming?”

Her voice snapped him back to reality, a gentle blush casting over his face as he realized that he was standing there in the dining area like a fool. “Yeah, sorry hun—”

The words flowed out of his mouth easily, a comforting taste on his tongue, and to her, it sounded like she could get used to him calling her sweetly so often. She smiled at him, cheeks warmed and rosy.

“No worries, love,”

They both walked outside, and took her hand in his, their fingers intertwining, and the sunset sky seemed to shine down on the both of them in approval. It felt so right to hold his hand, as if it was some sort of fairytale-meant-to-be situation. His thumb was grazing over her knuckles lightly, delicately, and it made her melt like ice cream on a hot day.

She looked over at him, his soft expression making her heart flutter in her chest despite having only met him a few minutes ago. He made her feel so in love, so fuzzy and infatuated with him, and she had a small hope burning inside of her that it could last a little longer than just for tonight.

“Let’s sit here, I’ll make you a s’more.” His smile was just as sweet as the marshmallow he reached for, skewering it onto the stick before he hovered it over the fire.

Sitting down beside him, she rested her head against him, a blurry tiredness washing over her already despite the sun not having fully set yet.

He handed the s’more over to her, marshmallow a perfect toast, chocolate slightly melted. “Here you go, enjoy it sweetheart,”

Smiling back at him, she took a bite of the sweet treat, the flavors too sweet almost, like a familiar childhood. They both remained like this for a little, sitting there and relaxing as the sound of others around them continued, a lively scene.

Trent looked around, making sure that everyone else around the both of them were occupied, due to the fact that his question would most likely out him as a decoy partner. “Are you familiar with anyone from this party?” he asked. His hand was still clasped around hers, lovingly, thumb stroking her skin.

“Yeah, my friend, I think you might know them since I saw you talking to them earlier,”

He looked at her with sweet admiration, wanting to hear her voice more often since it sounded like music to his ears. “Go on,” he encouraged.

She continued to talk about how she met her friend, rambling about childhood stories, as well as their shared memories of college years and early adult life, including the silly mishaps in hopes of making him laugh.

And it did, his laugh seemed to be the only sound she wanted to hear from now on, full and hearty, beyond genuine if she could describe it right. The way his eyes crinkled at the corner, cheeks flushed and pink, it made her feel warmer than the fire next to her.

Everything came naturally to the both of them, the easy, smooth talking, the lighthearted laughs and smiles, every nickname that cupid could come up with rolling off of their tongues.

Footsteps could be heard behind the both of them, the dirt and gravel being scruffed up.

“So is this your little boyfriend, sweets?”

Her stomach churned uncomfortably, recognizing that awful voice from earlier in the day.

Trent turned around with a slight smirk, standing up to face the other guy. He was visibly taller than him, who was now cowering slightly.

“Yeah, I’m her boyfriend.” He stuck out his hand, firm and confident. “Do we have a problem with that?” His brow was raised, tone interrogative and questioning.

The stranger took a step away, shaking his head. “No, I’ll leave you guys be—” His voice wavered as he took off in another direction, presumably to head home and away from the humiliation that he just had to put himself through.

Trent sat back down beside her, allowing her to lean closer to him. “Is that why you asked me?” he whispered.

Nodding her head, she remained silent for a little bit, allowing for her thoughts to accept the fact that it was over now, and that he didn’t have to act as her significant other any longer.

Moving away from him slightly, she could see his tender expression falter. “You don’t have to pretend to be my boyfriend anymore, Trent.” She matched his quiet tone, not wanting anyone to overhear the conversation between them.

His lips were pressed together in a line, unsure of what to do or say next. He looked in her eyes, seeing a twinge of sadness—or maybe tiredness, he couldn’t tell—float around.

“But, what if I want to be yours, truly this time?”

She looked at him, confused, but wanting to not step too far. “Trent, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. Only if you do as well.” Trent’s expression was genuine, pure, the nighttime sky and stars hoping to emphasize the way he felt. “I just think you’re a sweet and kind person, and from the time that I’ve gotten to know you, I know that I want to know more about you,”

A smile eased its way onto her face, paired with a blush from his honeyed words that truly felt like it was poured straight from his heart. “I think you’re lovely,” her voice was hardly above a whisper, but he heard it all, and almost melted on the spot.

“You think so?”

Nodding her head, she took his hand and held it, looking up at him once more.

He looked magical, enchanting, so sweet, so beautiful in the moment. Her heart seemed to slow, or speed up, but she didn’t feel real, lost somewhere in a dream-like state. They both remained in this moment, the seconds passing by in a blur, an exchange of numbers, something about wanting to co-exist more, feel more.

They both stood in the driveway of the house, moments before parting ways. He didn’t let go of her hand just yet, still wanting to feel her touch. “Brunch, tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, love,”

Her fingers slipped from his as she waved, walking away with her friends who were already gushing over any details they could get, laughter of the sweet night echoing in the sky.

Part Two

#nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #nhl writing #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #boston bruins #nhl bruins #trent frederic x reader #trent frederic fic #trent frederic imagine #trent frederic

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mommahughes19-23 · 5 months ago

Text

long distance - J.S

@swayman.mrs : my #1 reason to get on a last min flight @ 4 am

tagged : @jswayman1

location : swaytown

jdebrusk : finally youre back

jake30ottinger : too bad we crushed them , sorry u had to see that 🥶😬

jakub_lauko : we get it ur a WAG welcome to the club girlyy

hampuslindholm27 : oooooooooooooo are you here to stay ??

↪ swayman.mrs : no , sadly I am leaving again , dont fret ill be back my good sir

tfreddy42 : how do you consider jeans "comfortable" flight attire at 4 am?!?!

↪ swayman.mrs : bc unlike u I prefer to look presentable at any hour

↪ tfreddy42 : idk about that mrs covers face in every pic ever

↪ swayman.mrs : I WILL GET J ON YOU SO FAST

↪ jswayman1 : uhm lets be nice in the comments kids

matt.grzelcyk : those are my 2 best friends ever omgomgomg

lullmark : uncle and auntie sway gracing us

africkk : the wife section is so much more entertaining with your stories Maddie !

↪ jswayman1 : uhm... what stories???

jswayman1 : my #1 reason to cry mid game - thanks for surprising me baby girl! 💖💖💖

amandacorvenius : so nice to finally meet you , considering youre alllllllll Jeremy talks about!

moaullmark : finally the kids can stop asking when youre going to be in town! come visit us !!!!!!!! @swayman.mrs 😜😜😜❤️❤️

emmageekie : beautiful girl!!💝

ezzybow : 💖💖💖💖

miavoyatzis : still so happy to have met you! hope we see more of you!

spoonzz79 : 😘

morgangeekie : 🤯

A.N :

this probably sucks bc I only wrote this as a some what request. I typically dont have any positive feelings for the bruins unless it is Jeremy Swayman & Linus Ullmark sorry. I am not familiar with any bruins players so idk if this is how interactions would be but I hope its kinda ok .

I like this idea so I might use it for other players too

xoxoxoxoxoxo, M

tags : @quinnylouhughesx43 @noahkahansorangejuice @skylershines

#jeremy swayman #linus ullmark #boston bruins #morgan geekie #emma geekie #moa ullmark #matt grzelcyk #trent frederic #hampus lindholm #jake oettinger #jake debrusk #hockey #nhl #nhl players #nhl imagine #instagram edit

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nhl-stories · 10 months ago

Text

Body and Mind– Trent Frederic

Summary: Trent is more than just a warm body, but he's not sure how to show Alyssa that

Author’s Note: I originally planned for this to be absolutely FILTHY, still some filth but I lost steam. Freddy is the most requested player I've had recently so hope this hit the spot for some of you, I didn't really know him before but love that he's this cute muppet-voiced boy who could also murder someone.

Word Count: 2.3k

Album Series Masterlist

Gettin' my hands dirty while I beat out the kinks

At first, he liked it.

How could he not? When it made him feel so invigorated, blood roaring in his ears like a sold-out crowd at TD Garden.

And it’s not like he hates in now. It’s sex, really good sex at that. But mostly he’s just tired.

Is it too much to ask that Alyssa stays in bed long enough for the sweat to dry? Maybe even cuddle? Maybe talk in bed until they both fall asleep?

Maybe if it’s not too much bypass the sex entirely, watch a movie on the couch, eat a real meal together, leave his apartment.

But he’s too afraid to ask. Afraid he’ll lose her entirely if he brings it up that he wants more than the physical.

So instead, he compartmentalizes. Turns off his mind and lets his body enjoy.

///

Alyssa pushes her way into his place like a heat-seeking missile. Her lips are on his before he can really register her at all. She comes in this way most of the time; it still knocks the wind out of him every time.

“That fight was hot,” she runs a finger over the mostly healed cut on his nose.

Trent doesn’t have time to respond with words because she has a hand down his shorts before he can speak.

She moves kisses down his neck, he can feel his face flush even though his blood is racing in the opposite direction.

“I can’t believe I had to wait two days to do this,” she’s sinking to her knees, yanking his shorts down as she goes, her warm mouth enveloping him in one fluid motion.

“Fuck,” he grits out, he balls his fists to stop from yanking her hair so soon.

Of course, that’s not what she wants.

“Babe, fuck my face,” she says looking up at him, a look so innocent it would be believable if it weren’t for the way she kept stroking his shaft with expert precision.

Trent gingerly threads his fingers through her hair, thinking about asking if she wants to move so her knees won’t be on directly on the hardwood floor.

He doesn’t, because that’s not what she wants.

When he still doesn’t respond like she wants, Alyssa puts her hands over his and tightens his grip, pulls his hands to show him what she wants.

And maybe he should be proactive: tell her to get up so he can carry her to his room, so he can take his time, kiss her with passion instead viciousness, be gentle for once. But he’s weak, especially with her tongue sliding velvety around the head of his dick.

She takes him back into her mouth, a little deeper than before. He tightens he grip in her hair and feels her hum around him, egging him to do more. He gives a few shallow thrusts; she moans as she swallows him down.

“Lys, god,” tugging lightly

She pulls off a line of spit keeps her connected, he lets out a whimper.

“Seriously, really give it to me. I want it,” then she’s back to the task at hand.

He feels himself at the back of her throat and he can’t stop himself from thrusting forward. She gags, but keeps going, nose brushing up against his pelvis.

It’s enough for him to disconnect from his brain entirely, giving into what she wants.

He pulls her head back and forth, almost vindictively. Relishing the sloppy wet sounds and the occasional moan that rips from Alyssa’s throat. It doesn’t take long to send himself over the edge, letting her hair go just as he comes.

She pulls off, some of his come dripping down her chin, she uses a finger to catch it and swallow it down the with rest.

Her mascara is a little runny with tears, he thinks she doesn’t wear waterproof mascara for this exact effect. She stays on her knees while she catches her breath, looking up to give him a dazed sort of smile.

“Fuck that was good,” her voice is gravelly and Trent thinks he could go again already.

He doesn’t need to say anything because Alyssa is already pulling off her shirt and going towards his bedroom.

///

“Can I order a pizza or is it a no cheat meal night?”

Alyssa is putting her hair up in a ponytail as she looks out the window. She only put her underwear back on and Trent feels a weird sense of domesticity in it, the fact that she’s so comfortable in his space.

“No, um go for it,” he blushes when she turns around and catches him staring, as if they hadn’t just had sex.

“Great, I’m starving,” she goes to retrieve her purse from where she tossed it by the front door.

As she breezes by, he sees the faint marks of his fingers around her neck.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she would have stayed some anonymous girl he hooked up with.

When they first met, Trent was just getting used to having casual sex. He always felt vaguely nauseous with no strings attached, he liked cuddling and kissing with no motives, but learned it didn’t make him a bad person to give into his carnal desires with no intentions of catching feelings.

Then he met Alyssa, who introduced him to rough sex. To pulling hair, to throwing a girl against a wall, or wrapping a hand around her throat. When she first asked him to pull her hair harder, to come on her face, it felt so at odds with everything he had been taught about how to treat women.

Then he got the feeling of letting go, the rush of losing control for just a little bit, the mix of being wild and powerful was addicting. He didn’t know he could feel that way off the ice.

But in between rounds, when Trent cleaned her up with a warm washcloth, or ordered food to refuel, or put ice on the bruises she begged for him to give her, they got to know each other.

And now he wants both, the cuddles, the hair pulling, the kisses, everything.

Alyssa flops on the couch as she scrolls through her phone picking a pizza place. Trent flops down half on top of her, resting his head on her naked breasts. He plants a gentle kiss to her sternum; it’s one of the only times she lets him be soft, when they’re in the limbo between orgasms.

She runs her fingers through his hair as she types. Moving her nails down his neck before gently rubbing his back. He sinks into the sensation, taking a moment to imagine having this after a tough loss. Just two people enjoying each other, no sexual tension.

“How are your niece and nephews doing?” She asks because of course she remembers intimate details about his life even though she seems so blasé about everything outside of the bedroom.

But it gives him another chance to live in his fantasy world, gush about his family, ask Alyssa about hers. Sometimes he can pretend he’s getting his cake and eating it too.

///

It’s a stupid idea, but he’s trying to think positively, hope for the best.

He invites Alyssa to a game, and to go out with them afterwards if they win. She’s not sitting by any of the other partners as far as he knows, but he hopes being around them after a game might make her reconsider their relationship status. That meeting the group he spends most of his time with is a selling point for making a commitment.

He realizes how completely idiotic that thinking is about ten seconds in when Alyssa slips something into his pocket while hugging him congratulations.

He turns beet red trying to shove the black lacy panties deeper into his pockets before anyone else notices.

It doesn’t get better from there.

She leans into him in the corner of a booth and holds his hand. He has a moment of butterflies at the simple intimacy before Alyssa ruins it by moving his hand between her legs. She presses his fingers against her wet folds, like she wants to start the foreplay in front of most of his teammates.

It’s November, she shouldn’t even be wearing a mini-skirt with how cold it is.

“Freddy, you didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend!” Marchy makes smooching noise at the pair.

“We don’t put labels on it, I’m Alyssa,” she’s so casual as she reaches her free hand out to shake the captain’s hand, she lets Trent hand slide a little away, but keeps it high on her bare thigh.

Then she continues to charm the pants off all his teammates all while she subtly moves his fingers over her clit. Edging herself in under the table while casually joking around with his friends above the table.

He should have known she had an exhibitionist streak.

He should have known when he got up for more drinks, she would follow him.

She pulls him away from the bar and drags him down a dim hallway, he’s expecting for her to ask for a quickie in the bathroom, instead she keeps pulling him out a back entrance into a dark alley.

“I want you to throw me up against this wall and fuck me,” she whispers in his ear before giving him a sharp bite on the hinge of his jaw.

There’s a flash of desire that heats up inside him at the request, but he looks around at the dingy, damp alleyway, towards the semi-busy sidewalk at the far end.

“Lys…” he already played a tough game, he doesn’t want to play anymore games tonight, “Anyone could walk out here and see us.”

She steps closer, palms him through his pants; despite his nerves he can’t hide how much she arouses him.

“Then make it quick,” her breath is hot on his face, “I’m already close from before.”

She kisses him softly before roughly biting his bottom lip. Something inside of him roars to life and he throws her up against the bricks, maybe too hard from the way Alyssa grunts but he doesn’t care.

“Atta boy,” she smirks.

He grips her arms harder, shoving her against the wall again. This time with more authority. Her smirk falls away and her mouth hangs open in awe as she looks up at him. He gives her a bruising kiss in response.

He moves his hands down her body before lifting her up, her legs automatically wrap around him, giving him enough leverage to keep her aloft while he opens up his pants and pushes into her. Alyssa gasps in shock, like she hadn’t actually expected him to actually follow through.

It only takes a couple strokes before he feels close, the thrilling fear of getting caught pumping adrenaline through him. He buries his face in Alyssa’s neck and groans as he let’s go.

His arms burn from exertion, after effects of the game earlier, as he lets her slide down the wall.

She tucks his used member back into his pants and zips him up.

She reaches in his pocket and pulls out her panties, slipping them back on in a dirty alley, while his come drips out of her.

“Wow babe, I honestly didn’t think you had it in you for kinky outdoors sex, it was hot.”

He preens a bit at the praise and pet name.

“We should do it again some time.”

And if she asks in the future, he’ll probably do it again, because he’s the weakest man in the world.

///

They had flown back home late the night before and it was optional skate today. After losing three straight, maybe he should want to put the extra work in, but all Trent wants to do is lay in the dark and do nothing.

So of course, that’s when Alyssa shows up unannounced.

She’s sticking her tongue down his throat rather than saying hello or asking how he’s doing.

Alyssa’s been a Bruins fan her whole life, he knows she watched the games. Saw him get high sticked by Trouba, saw them drop another game in a sequence of bad games.

“Aren’t you tired?” He pushes her away.

“We haven’t even done anything”

She moves back towards him but Trent takes a step back, worried if he forcefully makes her stop, it will only spurn her to want more.

“No Lys, aren’t you tired of always pushing and biting and fighting? Don’t you ever want someone to just be gentle with you?” It feels like there’s a rock lodge in his throat, he’s so tired of the aggression all the time.

Confusion crosses her face; Trent can’t quite read if the way she scrunches her brows is a good or bad. He doesn’t even know what kind of response he actually wants to hear at this point.

“No one’s…” her tone is of disbelief, like she’s trying to connect her brain with the rest of her body, make sense of everything she’s ever known, “no one’s ever asked me that.”

“Has anyone ever been gentle with you?”

“That’s not what people want me for.”

Trent’s heart breaks a little, he reaches out and grabs her hand. Alyssa flinches at the contact even though he’s never been so tender with her.

“I want that with you,” he squeezes her hand.

The tension is still taut in her body.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like the slapping and choking and spitting a lot more than I thought I would, but after… I want to hold you. And sometimes that’s all I want to do.”

He pulls her hand up to his lips, kissing it.

“I’d kiss you softly, and take my time with your whole body, and I don’t know, I just want something soft.”

Her eyes are so wide, when she finally looks up at him, the first time he actually believes she might be innocent.

“Show me.”

#trent frederic #trent frederic fic #trent frederic imagine #boston bruins #boston bruins fics #boston bruins imagines #nhl stories #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagines #hockey fics

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ahockeywrites · 9 months ago

Note

i once again ask for more freddy content 😋💞

warnings: none, somehow I wrote no smut. pure domestic bliss

authors note: requests are open :)

The sun trickled in through the partly drawn curtains, exposing you and Trent to the winter sun of Boston. Usually you remembered to close them, but after a full day of chores, you collapsed into bed with Trent close behind. Neither of you must have remembered to close them.

Your eyes flicked over to the clock on your bedside table. 5:57 AM. Three minutes before Trent’s ghastly alarm went off indicating that he should probably get ready for morning skate. Today was a game day and his routine was everything, even if you didn’t understand why he did everything he did, you allowed him the space to do what he needed.

As you kept yourself warm in the final moments of sweet, calm bliss before all hell broke loose with the blaring sounds of a phone alarm. Trent rolled over, muscled arm resting over your body, pulling you towards him. His head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

His warmth radiated and you enjoyed the feeling of being the little spoon in the first time in what felt like forever. Trent would never admit it, but he loved being the little spoon.

You closed your eyes for just a moment, relaxing into Trent’s hold. You would do anything to capture this moment forever.

#ahockeywrites #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey story #nhl writing #trent frederic fic #trent frederic #tf11

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misshoneyimhome · 4 months ago

Note

Can you write for Trent Frederic? Maybe like telling him your pregnancy or first announcing you two are dating just pure fluff!

Oh babe! I am so so sorry this took forever 🤍✨

But I finally got around to it - Now, I couldn't quite decide on how to go about it... so I just kind off went with it and did both 🙈 Since it's my first time writing for Trent F. I had to do some research ofc; and I know it's a bit short, but hopefully you still enjoy it ❤️🤗

Tropes and warnings; just pure fluff, strangers to lovers, no warnings; pregnancy announcement

Word count: 1.7K

➼｡ﾟ

Next Chapter I Trent Frederic

The morning light streamed through the bathroom window, casting a soft glow over the room, and as you stood there and looked down at the plus sign indicating the result, a small curve slowly crept onto your lips. Your heart raced as you processed the reality of the situation. You knew it was soon in the process, and it had all happened a lot faster than you’d expected—yet, you knew this was a good thing for your next chapter. You felt a mix of exhilaration and nerves, knowing that your life was about to change in the most profound way.

So, over the next few hours, you couldn’t help but contemplate and think back on how everything had unfolded over the past couple of years. The house was quiet, the only sounds being the distant hum of city life and the occasional chirping of birds outside. You made yourself a cup of tea, sitting down at the kitchen table, your mind drifting to the pivotal moments that led you here.

How your life had turned upside down, just like that, in a way you’d never expected.

It all started with a friendly pickup hockey game organised by mutual friends back in 2018.

You had always grown up with hockey around you, your father playing all his life and then passing it on to your older brother. Weekends were spent at the local rink, the chill of the ice and the sharp sound of skates cutting through it became a comforting backdrop to your childhood. So, naturally you quickly learnt to lace up your skates and found your way onto the ice, much to the delight of your family.

Of course, your mother first thought you’d be on the ice as a beautiful princess of a figure skater. She had dreams of you twirling gracefully in sparkly dresses, capturing the hearts of audiences with your elegance. However, despite everyone trying to dress you up in tight suits and all that sparkling glitter, you instead always found your way to some sort of hockey gear and a stick to shoot a puck around with. The thrill of the game, the teamwork, and the adrenaline rush drew you in far more than the idea of being a figure skater.

In a way, you were a bit of a tomboy; always hanging out with a solid group of guys as well as other hockey-interested girls. You relished the camaraderie, the sense of belonging that came with being part of a team. And as far back as you could remember, you always preferred to hang out with your brother and his friends. In fact, this bond over hockey brought you closer to your brother, and eventually, to a wider circle of friends who shared the same passion.

Which eventually led you to the group of friends that set up the friendly hockey match during the winter of 2018.

And that’s when you met Trent.

Just another 20-year-old with a passion for hockey, hanging out with his group of friends, who hung out with another group of friends—and so on.

Long story short, you were all a bunch of hockey enthusiasts, joining together on a sunny winter Sunday in Boston, and as a newcomer to the city, Trent had joined his group of friends, which led to you all mingling coincidentally on an outdoor ice rink.

And apparently, your wide smile and vibrant enthusiasm caught Trent’s eyes immediately. So, for hours he thought about how to start up a conversation with you.

Trent wasn’t usually insecure about himself. He knew he was a young, charming lad, with a strong and impressive career. He knew he was a fighter, making his way to the best league in hockey—yet, seeing a girl like you had his stomach turn and he immediately rather wanted to get into a fist fight than trying to flirt with you.

Not that you were intimidating in any way. On the contrary. You were just so open, outgoing, and simply sparkling with joy. You had that captivating aura that just drew people in, and a part of him knew that if he didn’t at least try to talk to you—aware he might get rejected, he knew he’d regret it.

So, naturally, putting on his greatest smile and polishing his confidence, he skated up next to you when you were finally alone, having a sip of your water by the ice rink railing.

"Wow, you're not too bad for a non-pro," he teased, nudging you gently with his shoulder.

"Just trying to keep up with the big leagues, I guess," you shot back, feeling the warmth in your cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. You were used to holding your own among your brother’s friends, but Trent’s playful banter and genuine smile disarmed you in a way you hadn’t expected.

And when the game then ended, the easy camaraderie lingered. As you both decided to stay back and help clean up, Trent found the courage within and suggested grabbing a hot chocolate to warm up.

One cup then turned into several, and before long, the two of you were lost in conversation, sharing stories and dreams long into the night. It felt natural, easy, like slipping into a favourite jumper. You found yourself laughing more than you had in ages, the connection between you undeniable. Neither of you knew it then, but that night was the beginning of something special.

Months into your blossoming relationship, it was clear that what you had with Trent was something special. Yet, announcing it to the world felt daunting - at least to you.

Though you were used to the hockey world, being with a professional athlete came with its own set of challenges, and you weren't sure you were ready for the spotlight. The media scrutiny, the fans, the pressure of public perception—all of it weighed on your mind.

However, one evening, after a particularly thrilling game, Trent then pulled you aside in the empty rink. His eyes sparkled with excitement, his energy infectious, and you could see the determination in his expression, the way he had set his mind on something important.

"I want to tell everyone about us," he said, his voice full of determination.

But you hesitated, your mind racing with doubts. "Trent, it's a big step. Are we ready for this?"

The what-ifs and potential fallout played on a loop in your head, but Trent’s presence grounded you.

Trent just took your hands in his, his grip firm yet gentle. "I love you, Y/N. I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I want the world to know that you're mine, and I'm yours." His confidence was unwavering, and it gave you the strength to face your fears.

His words simply melted away all your fears. So, with a deep breath, you nodded. "Okay, let's do it."

And to your relief, the announcement was met with nothing but an outpouring of support from fans and teammates alike. The love and encouragement bolstered your confidence, and you felt more connected to Trent than ever before. The world now knew about your relationship, and it felt liberating. So, walking hand in hand, you faced the world together, ready for whatever came next.

Now, five years later, the playoffs were in full swing, and the Boston Bruins had just advanced to the second round. The excitement was palpable, but so was your anxiety. You had taken a pregnancy test that morning, and the positive result had left you reeling. The implications of this tiny plus sign were enormous, and you couldn’t shake the mix of joy and apprehension.

Though you knew it could happen anytime - aware of how biology works - it happened sooner than you expected. And with Trent's focus on the playoffs, you were unsure how to break the news without distracting him. So, you decided to wait until the right moment, hoping the Bruins would continue their winning streak.

But then when the team lost and their season ended, you suddenly saw an opportunity to lift Trent's spirits. The defeat was a heavy blow, and seeing your fiancé so despondent tugged at your heart. So, that night, as he sat quietly in your living room, his disappointment evident, you took a deep breath and approached him.

"Trent, there's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice trembling slightly. The weight of your news felt immense, though you had a feeling it was something that could bring light into this dark moment.

He simply looked up, concerned about replacing the sadness in his eyes. "What is it, honey?"

Without any words, you just handed him the positive pregnancy test, watching as his expression shifted from confusion to shock - and then finally to pure joy. You could see the moment the reality of it hit him, his eyes widening in surprise.

"We're going to have a baby," you said, tears of welling up in your eyes, as the words felt surreal, yet so right.

And Trent's face just lit up with the biggest smile you'd ever seen. He swiftly stood up, lifting you into his arms and spinning you around. "Oh fucking yes! This is the best news ever!" he exclaimed, his excitement infectious, the room seeming to brighten with his happiness and the earlier gloom dispelled.

He then gently sat you down, his hands carefully resting on your belly. "I can't believe it. We're going to be parents."

You nodded, the weight of the moment sinking in. "Yes, we are."

Trent then pulled you in for a deep kiss, his joy and love overwhelming, as he allowed you both to sink more into the tender moment, before slowly pulling apart. "This is the perfect way to start the off-season, baby," he said, his voice full of promise. "I can't wait to start this next chapter with you."

And as you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together, united by love and the new life growing within you. The journey ahead was filled with unknowns, but with Trent by your side, you felt ready for anything.

#my asks #tf11 #Trent frederic imagine #boston bruins imagine #nhl hockey imagine #nhl imagine

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prettytoxicrevolver · 7 months ago

Text

Love Story | Trent Frederic

wc. 5.2k

It's a love story, baby just say yes

Your eyes flit around the stuffy ballroom, the heat causing your body temperature to flare and you can feel the prickle of sweat lining your features. Your hand is forced to be a makeshift fan, lifting to try and gather some air against your face. Finding no reprieve, you lean close to your brother, tugging at his suit jacket until he’s leaning down close to hear you.

“I’m going to step outside for a moment,” you tell him and when his eyes find yours he nods quietly.

“Be safe,” he responds and now it’s your turn to nod.

Your shuffle through the crowded room, smiling at some of the faces you recognize and nodding at the others you don’t. You finally make it to the balcony and step out into the cool summer air. The wind is a treat, blowing your hair lightly around your head and giving a much needed temperature change to your heated state.

You lean against the balcony, hands splayed on the cool metal as you look across the vast city. You can’t help but wonder how in the world you would ever get to know this unfamiliar place. How would you memorize the subway routes or the layout?

You turn away from your current dilemma, casting your eyes back towards the party in the ballroom to try and find your brother. When you do, he’s grinning wildly as he talks to another unknown person. The person turns and you’re met with a soft brown gaze that has your body temperature flaring up all over again.

You avert your gaze, unable to hold its intensity and look around at all the beautiful ball gowns floating by, the lights reflecting on the glitz and glam of the whole event. You find the courage to look back towards the set of brown eyes and watch nervously as he makes his way through the crowd.

You turn quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice your staring and try your best to act casual when he approaches.

“Hello,” you hear his soft soothing voice greet and you turn with a small smile.

“Hi.”

“I’m Trent,” he says, offering his hand in such a formal way that it makes your heart jump at the action. “Trent Frederic.”

“(y/n) Mcavoy,” you respond, slipping your hand into his and reveling in the feeling of how his skin feels against yours.

Recognition flashes across his face at your last name but he doesn’t show it otherwise. You’re quietly grateful he doesn’t say anything about Charlie.

“Beautiful huh?” he says instead, stepping further out towards the edge of the balcony.

“Sure is,” you murmur, turning back towards the view that captivated you moments ago.

“Have you lived here long?”

You two trade the basic information back and forth between you like a tennis match. Where you were from, how old you were, what you do for a living, what position he played in hockey, and so on.

“Uh, favorite Shakespeare play?” you ask, running out of basic questions.

“Shakespeare?” Trent asks, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

“I’m an English major! Gimme a break,” you joke back, bumping his shoulder with yours.

“Okay uhm,” he pauses and you admire him as he genuinely thinks about his answer to the question. “Romeo and Juliet?”

“Oh boo,” you yell back at him, cupping your hands around your mouth for emphasis and Trent nearly doubles over in laughter.

“Okay Miss English major, what’s yours?”

“Easy. Hamlet or Much Ado About Nothing,” you state with a shrug like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“Isn’t Hamlet the one where they all go crazy and die?”

“Yes, and?” you ask and Trent stares at you with a blank look before you’re both cracking up all over again. You’re both straightening up and calming down from your laughing fit when Charlie appears at your side once more with a soft smile and a curious glance towards his teammate.

“Ready to head out?” he asks and you nod.

“Nice to meet you Romeo,” you say to Trent and he grins at the nickname.

“See you around.”

“And what was that about?” Charlie asks when you’re out of earshot and you can’t help the eyeroll that is produced from your brother's question.

“Don’t worry about it.”

The second time you run into Trent is ironically at your own apartment. You were standing in front of your door, keys in hand as you shuffled to find the right one. Just as you do, your door swings open before you and a loud shriek leaves your mouth in surprise.

“Romeo?” you question when Trent’s guilty brown eyes finally land on yours.

“Come on man let’s go before,” you hear your brother's voice from behind Trent and lean around the hockey player to stare at Charlie.

“What are you doing in my apartment?”

“I thought I left my airpods here,” he states, shrugging his shoulders and pushing past Trent who is still stuck in the doorway.

“So, instead of texting or calling me, you break into my apartment with your partner in crime?”

“It’s technically not breaking in if he has a key,” Trent chimes in and you turn towards him with a look that says who asked you?

“Correct,” Charlie says, pointing at Trent in agreement before throwing him a thumbs up. “I gotta go pick up Kiley.”

Before you can hurl anymore questions or remarks back at your brother, he’s flying down the stairs and out of your apartment building. For one final time, you turn back to Trent who has a nervous look on his features, unsure of what to do.

“Gonna let me in Romeo? Or is there a secret password?” you joke and he flushes at your words, stepping aside and letting you into your own apartment.

“Come on in,” you call back towards him when you realize he’s still standing awkwardly in the doorway. His body half in and half out not sure which way to go. “You’ve already seen the place.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” he says, finally shutting the door and walking back into your place.

“Don’t worry,” you say, leaning back against the kitchen bar. “I know what it’s like getting caught up in one of Chucky’s schemes.”

“Was he worse as a kid?”

“You got six hours?” you ask jokingly and Trent grins.

Finally, you take a moment to pull off your jacket and shoes, put your bag away and pour a glass of water. You instantly pour one for Trent as well, holding it out to him and he thanks you quietly.

“Have you tried that new pizza place down the road?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Not yet. I’ve been researching a bunch of places that I want to try out and it’s been on my list forever.”

Trent nods at your answer and you search his brown eyes for an explanation. He smiles sheepishly over his glass at you and the sight sends a slight shockwave through your heart.

“I haven't either,” he begins and you nod. “Have you eaten? Would you maybe wanna…I don’t know I don’t want to seem too forward we could order in or go there or not go at all I just,”

“Slow down there Romeo,” you joke and Trent is grateful for your interruption of his nonsense ramblings. “Show me the menu.”

Trent pulls up the menu on his phone and you start to scroll through it. Trent leans across the kitchen bar to look as well and you realize how close you are. You focus on glancing through the menu quickly when a loud sound erupts from your front door and quick footsteps echo through your apartment.

“Trent!” you hear your brother's voice and you both jerk your heads up so fast you end up knocking into each other.

“Fuck,” you curse out, dropping Trent’s phone onto the table and clutching at your head.

“What are you still doing here?” Charlie asks, accusatory eyes flicking between you and his teammate.

“Well we were thinking about getting dinner,” you mutter bitterly, still holding your head.

“Yeah, no,” Charlie says. He marches over to Trent, places both hands on his shoulders and starts to lead him out of your apartment.

“I’ll see you later?” you call out to Trent and get Charlie’s furious glance in return.

“No you won’t!”

You can’t help the small chuckle that releases from you at Charlie’s stubborn words and you roll your eyes. You loved Charlie but he was always going to be way too protective over you. Lord knows he’ll keep you away from Trent at all costs if he finds out you might be starting to develop a crush on the young player.

It’s been about three months since Charlie and Trent had been to your apartment and you were starting to miss Romeo’s big brown eyes. Trent had successfully been scared off from you by Charlie but that didn’t keep you from crossing his mind almost every day.

“Freddy you good?”

Trent is broken from his thoughts by Jeremy skating over to him, nudging the young player to gain his attention. Trent had been off all practice and while he was still fairly new to the NHL, it didn’t excuse how distracted he was today.

“Yeah man just thinking,” he says shrugging Jeremy off.

“About?”

“A girl,” he admits shyly and Jeremy grins.

“Well whoever she is, you better go get her soon. We don’t need you to be this distracted for the upcoming games.”

Trent thinks about Jeremy’s words for the rest of practice and ultimately till the moment he gets in his car he realizes he has to see you again. Seeing it’s only about 6 pm, he heads back to your apartment, having no other way to contact you.

You’re sitting relaxing in your living room, a hockey game playing on your TV in the background as you attempt to finish up some homework. Through the sounds of skates starting and stopping and the passing of the puck, you hear a sharp knock on your door.

You place your homework down on the coffee table in front of you and wonder if you placed an order for food and somehow forgot. However, when you open the door, your Romeo stands there before you.

“Hi,” Trent greets, awkwardly waving at you and you smile at his nervous actions.

“Hi?” you say, giggling a little at the weirdness of the situation. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to finally try that pizza place with me?”

Your heart flutters at the invitation and you smile widely at Trent.

“Give me a few minutes to change?”

You end up at an old school pizza place about 20 minutes later, Trent being kind enough to drive the two of you and you’re admiring the atmosphere as you wait for your food.

“Why do you wear number 11?” you ask Trent and he smiles at the continuation of your conversation from a few months ago.

“Well, I wanted the number 7,” he begins to explain, leaning forward as he answers your question and the closeness has you losing your breath. “But it was retired so I kinda liked the idea of 7 and 11 rhyming.”

You smile and nod, enjoying the explanation for his number. Growing up and watching Charlie play, you knew there was a certain special reason for the numbers players chose even though so many of them want to play it off as a random choice that meant nothing.

“What number would you pick if you played?”

Conversation flows like a lazy river between you and Trent and you’re shocked at how easy it all is. It felt like you had known him all your life and not like this was the third time the two of you have interacted. By the end of the night, your stomach hurts from laughter and you find yourself not wanting the dinner to end.

“How much do I owe you?” you ask when Trent grabs the check and scans his eyes over the total.

“Suddenly I’m blind,” he responds and you roll your eyes.

“How much do I owe you!” you insist, not wanting to come off as rude and not pay the boy back.

“We pay up front, right?” he asks, standing and gesturing for you to follow him.

“Trent,” you whine out, following him up to the register. He hands the check over and when the cashier announces the total you grin mischievously.

You dig around in your purse before pulling out your wallet and fishing out a 20. As Trent leans on the counter to sign the check, you sneakily pop the 20 dollars into the pocket of his sweatshirt. His eyes flick down to see what you’re doing and he tries to nudge you away with his arm.

“What are you doing?” he asks, giggling as he stands back up straight. “Get out of my sweatshirt.”

He nudges you away too late, the 20 dollars successfully slipping into his pocket and staying there. He turns to you and you offer your most innocent and heart stopping smile that has Trent shaking his head with a smile just as wide.

The two of you head back to your apartment, the conversation never ceasing until you get to the front door of your place. You turn around, instinctively leaning against the door and fighting the urge to invite him in.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you say, smiling up at Trent and he grins down at you.

“So did I. Would you wanna do this again sometime?” he asks, his nerves spiking as the words slip from his mouth.

“Same time, new place?” you respond and Trent grins.

“Sounds good to me.”

“See ya later, Romeo.”

Trent watches as you slip into your apartment, his heart beating wildly in his chest no doubt trying to fight its way into your place and attempt to stay next you forever. He sighs, a ridiculous and happy sigh, before turning away and thinking over every detail of tonight.

For the rest of the season you and Trent become completely attached at the hip. You went to dinner together every week at a new place, tried coffee shops in the mornings, new movies at either your place or his. Charlie could tell there was something going on between you two, but he never really could figure out exactly what.

The Bruins make it to the playoffs and you’re at every game you possibly can make up until their final one. You watched the boys fight hard and you knew both Charlie and Trent would be kicking themselves and feeling like they didn’t do enough for their teams.

You head down to the locker room, waiting in an eerie silence with the other wives and girlfriends. Kiley and you talk quietly but stop instantly when the boys start to trickle out. Charlie is one of the first and you offer a squeeze to Kiley’s hand before she makes her way over to him. You watch your big brother basically melt into his fiancee's embrace and you’re even more grateful for Kiley than ever before.

Your attention shifts when Trent comes out. His hair is a mess, his cheeks are flushed and his stare conveys every emotion he is feeling in that moment. His eyes slowly find yours and you see a sigh physically release from him. Without a second thought or a word exchanged, you’re making your way to Trent and pulling him into your arms.

“You played great, Romeo,” you tell him quietly and his smile is hard against your skin. When you pull back, you spot Charlie’s curious gaze and you break off from Trent and make your way over to your older brother.

“It’s okay if this loss takes longer than 5 minutes,” you tell Charlie, pulling him into a hug and he chuckles against you at the inside joke.

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” he responds and you smile. “I’m gonna head back to Kiley’s. Go cheer up Trent.”

You give your brother an accusatory glare and he chuckles before shoving you in the direction of Trent.

“Ready to go?” you ask Trent and he offers a sad smile and a nod. He takes a chance, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and you’re quick to reciprocate, the two of you heading out of the arena.

Trent spends the days following the loss at your apartment, claiming he needed to be around company or else he would think about the loss far more than he wanted to. You were happy to oblige, your heart picking up in pace whenever Trent was near sent you into a bliss that seemed endless until your beautiful bubble burst.

“Do you have everything you need?” you ask Trent, your arms folded securely across your body trying to keep yourself steady.

“Think so,” he says nodding to his heavy suitcase and your eyes pull to the straps of his backpack that is no doubt weighing him down.

You were mad at yourself and therefore mad at Trent for being so upset at his leaving to go back home for the summer. You knew he had these plans since way before he met you, but it still hurt nonetheless. You wanted him to stay, wanted to explore the city with him more, wanted to hope those simmering feelings for the boy might finally come to fruition.

“Three months and I’ll be back in no time,” he reminds you, nudging your saddened state.

Your eyes gloss over at his words, the reminder that you wouldn’t be able to physically be in his presence hurting so much more than you thought it would. You nod quietly in response to him, not able to trust your voice in the moment.

“Come here,” he murmurs quietly and you find yourself falling into his strong embrace, the warmth of his body circling yours to form a bubble around the two of you.

“Don’t go?” you ask pitifully, a tear or two finally making its way down your cheek.

“Three months. The second I get back, I’m yours.”

You hold onto those words from Trent all three months. The three months of summer where you slowly lose contact but only manage to think about the young hockey player even more. Three months where you bury yourself into work and family and so on to ignore the reminders and thoughts of Trent that never seemed to cease. Three months and you had started to question what happened to your Romeo.

The summer without Trent was like a year without rain. Dry, deserted, and uneventful. Waiting for the drought to end felt like it lasted for years.

When Charlie’s wedding had started to approach and you were in the midst of chaos leading up to it, your brain couldn’t help but think about how the hockey season would start shortly after as well. The idea of hockey and Trent made you feel like you were coming back to life. The drought has ended, the rain has come and you can see a rainbow forming on the horizon.

You impatiently waited for your Romeo to come back to you and in a weird twist of fate, he did.

Charlie’s wedding was a beautiful success. Kiley looked stunning, the library was decorated beautifully, Charlie was clearly over the moon happy, and you could finally relax knowing your brother was happily married to the girl of his dreams.

The speeches had come and gone, you were able to get lots of laughter and even a few tears out of your big brother and after dinner it was officially time to dance. You drank and partied and enjoyed the beautiful atmosphere. Your favorite song had just ended and you took a minute to walk away, get some air and relax for a moment.

“There’s my Juliet.”

Your whole body comes to life at the words from the boy behind you. You try to tamper down the ever growing smile on your lips but it escapes anyway. Trent’s eyes trail over your figure before you’re graced with those big brown eyes that have you weak in the knees.

“I was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna come back around Romeo,” you tell him and he smiles, looking down and shaking his head shyly before stepping towards you.

“Of course I came back,” he says and your heart picks up at the words. “Besides, I needed to properly ask you out at some point.”

You’re slightly shocked, especially at the fact that you and Trent had somewhat fallen out of contact over the summer. However, your heart was pounding wondering if Trent had been as head over heels as you were. If he thought about you all summer like you had.

“Can’t wait to catch up, Romeo.”

“It’s a date.”

The speed in which you and Trent became inseparable again was alarming to some, but comforting to you. Your weekly dinners, morning breakfasts and coffee shop stops all became dates that had your heart thrashing like a hurricane in your chest.

The one downfall in your honeymoon phase? Charlie, along with the rest of the world, still didn’t know about your relationship. You both were nervous to let anyone in on your relationship. The fear of the media is strong on Trent’s end and the fear of your brother's reaction on yours.

You were laying down on your couch, Trent was coming over soon and you were scrolling on your phone to pass the time. You spot a picture of Jeremy and his girlfriend, the instagram caption something adorable and you smile lightly at the happy couple. You like the photo, leaving a quick comment, and pause when you swipe back over to the photo.

You can’t help but wish you or Trent could post something like that. You wanted your friends to openly hype up your relationship, wanted the fans to call you guys cute, you even wanted the guys to chirp the two of you for being so deep in puppy love. Your thoughts keep you so distracted you don’t even realize Trent has made it to your apartment until he’s standing over you with a worried expression on his face.

“Princess?” he whispers, and your eyes move from your phone to his face, smiling sadly at your Romeo.

“What’s wrong?”

You sit up, Trent instantly coming around to sit next to you and pulls you into his arms. You rest your head against his chest, his hands come up to twist in your hair and you sigh quietly. Trent gives you a minute, wanting to give you the space to talk about it if you want to or move past it.

“I want to run away,” you murmur, turning to press your cheek against his chest.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere but here,” you admit and Trent worries about your words but plays along.

“Bahamas are beautiful this time of year,” he says and you laugh lightly.

“Running away from everyone, no job, relaxing on the beach, no media and no older brother? I think it’s an excellent plan.”

You finally sit all the way up, turning to fully face Trent and he gazes at you with so much intensity that you have to look away again. Trent leans in, presses a kiss to your cheek and when you turn to look at him he pecks your lips before cupping your face in his hands.

It's been a few days since that conversation with Trent when your relationship is exposed.

You had skipped the Bruins game today, deciding to stay home and get some work done with the stream playing in the background. You barely even register when the game ends, the stream switching to another game playing and you’re far too engrossed by your book to notice. The only thing that pulls you out of your strength is the sharp knock on your front door.

Your head tilts at the sound, the book in your hands dropping slightly. You wait for a moment and the knock becomes more prominent. You finally drop the book from your hands and make your way over to the front door. You expect your boyfriend on the other side, a guilty smile on his lips followed by an apology about forgetting his key, but you’re shocked when you meet your brother’s angry glare and a guilty look from Trent for a whole different reason.

“When the fuck did you two start dating?” Charlie demands.

Before you can respond, Charlie pushes past you and further into your apartment. Trent follows behind him but stops at your side, leaning down to brush his lips just over the top of your head before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Media found out.”

“Wha-”

“(y/n)!” your brother shouts and you flinch slightly. “Get in here and explain please.”

You and Trent slink guiltily into the living room, a million questions running through your mind as you face a half angry and half disappointed Charlie. You sit back down on your couch, running through the timeline of yours and Trents relationship and by the end of it, Charlie has settled on a look of disappointment.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“To be fair, I didn’t tell anyone,” you murmur in response and when Charlie glares at you, Trent nudges your side.

“I was worried about your reaction and I didn’t want the rest of the media to find out and have this whole fit about it and I didn’t want you to think I came here just to start dating some guy-”

“Hey!” Trent responds and you smile, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

“You know what I mean.”

“Firstly, gross,” Charlie says, pointing between the two of you. “Secondly, I’m pissed you didn’t tell me but I understand. Just be careful around the media now okay?”

You jump up, running over and hugging your brother tightly and he can’t help smiling at his little sister’s happiness.

The navigation around the media is hard at first, but you’re happy that you get to flaunt your man around now. It was killing you seeing all the fan pages and the girls who looked like models fawn all over your Romeo. The comments were of course pretty brutal at first and weren't looking too much better even after months had passed.

It had been a particularly long week, Trent was gone on a roadie, and you had back to back bad shifts and too much homework to do. You found yourself laying on the couch, ignoring all of your responsibilities and counting down the minutes until your Romeo came back home. You start to drift in and out of sleep, the weeks work finally weighing down on your body.

When you wake up for the last time, you find Trent next to you, running his fingers softly through your hair, You lean into his embrace, a sleepy smile resting on your lips and Trent can’t help but think about how infatuated he was with his Juliet.

“How are you doing baby?” he asks, his words barely above a murmur next to your ear.

“Still down to run away?” you ask in response, still desperate to escape from the world with your Romeo.

“I have a long weekend coming up,” Trent says and you watch as he twists a piece of your hair around his finger. “Clear your schedule next weekend and I’m all yours.”

Your eyes gaze over Trent, wondering if he’s genuinely serious about this. With him being away and the season winding down, your insecurities were running wild wondering if he actually wanted to be with you. If he actually wanted this to last, to work. If he didn’t, you didn’t think you would make it through a heartbreak that difficult.

Trent was your Romeo. You didn’t want to suffer the same fate Juliet did but you were okay with at least trying.

Trent was hoping his love story didn’t suffer the same fate as the age old drama. He wanted this to last for the rest of his life. That’s why he had already asked Charlie’s permission to marry you.

Over the recent roadie, he had pulled Charlie aside and explained everything. He knew how hard everything with the media had been with you and how your insecurities were running rampant and he didn’t know a better way to reassure you. He could be engaged for a few years, but he wanted to give you that fiancee title if you let him. He wanted to give you that constant reassurance through a ring on your finger and a commitment he would never break.

Charlie was hesitant at first. The two of you are young and having just gotten married himself, he knew how big of a step this was. But when he saw the determination in the young players' eyes and remembered the smile on your lips whenever someone even mentioned Trent, well how could he say no?

“This place is beautiful,” you say, eyes wandering around the small cottage that Trent had rented for your weekend away. It was quaint, with all the feelings of an older home and the lived in feeling you loved. It had character, as your mom would say.

You and Trent get settled, touring around the small property, taking a quick nap together before getting up and cooking dinner. Your conversation ranges from topic to topic and Trent is practically shaking with nerves the whole time. He’s been waiting and waiting for the perfect moment and didn’t want a single thing to go wrong.

Your mind was still fluttering with the idea that maybe Trent took you here as a last hooray before you weren’t together anymore. You had been trying to ignore those feelings for the whole drive up from Boston but they still plagued you.

“Wanna go look at the stars?” Trent asks and you nod, heading into the rapidly chilling night air with him.

The back porch is raised up, vines and plants covering the area with fairy lights strung around to create a romantic atmosphere. You can’t help but lean into Trent’s embrace as you stand outside and look at the stars. The ones you had both shared for so long, ones that were around before you and would be there after you and would comfort you till your final days.

“Princess?” Trent whispers, turning to fully face you and you smile up at him.

“I love you. I care about you so incredibly much,” his words are soft in the night air and your eyes are already brimming with tears from the words spoken.

“And I was wondering,” he continues.

You watch with wide eyes as he kneels down on the ground and pulls out the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. You blink a couple of times, wondering if this was all in your head but you’re quickly brought back to the moment when Trent takes your hands.

“Marry me, Juliet,” he begs more than asks and you chuckle quietly at the nickname. “You’ll never have to be alone. I love you and our date nights, our early mornings, the way you’ve always called me your Romeo and that’s the only thing I really know so please, just say yes.”

And just like that, the worries disappear. You get your Romeo, forever.

“Yes.”

#prettytoxicrevolver fic #trent frederic x y/n #trent frederic drabble #trent frederic fic #trent frederic x reader #trent frederic imagine #boston bruins x y/n #boston bruins x fic #boston bruins x reader #boston bruins imagine

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pucked-bunnie · 8 months ago

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ABOUT: This is a fan-fiction blog centered around hockey players and the nhl, please not that not all requests will be completed and may be deleted if not within my comfort zone.

BLOG UNDER CONSTRUCTION; SOME LINKS MAY NOT WORK/ARE NOT POSTED YET

⎜ inbox status : open⎜

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nico hischier

dawson mercer

alexander holtz

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luke hughes

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jeremy swayman

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happilysmythe · 7 months ago

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❥ 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧

trent frederic.

word count: 4.2k

warning: explicit content

"kiss it, kiss it better, baby" — rihanna

A/N: okay, so i saw this happen against TB and immediately opened my notes app. he's actually criminally attractive. anyway hope you all enjoy the long-awaited fic 💞

- - -

Complicated was one of a handful of words that could accurately describe your relationship with Trent. You were friends; good friends, at that. You had been for a long time.

But some would argue that most friends didn’t do the things that you did on most nights.

You always knew he was good-looking—it wasn’t to anybody’s surprise. It sure as hell wasn’t unknown to the girls who offered themselves up to him on any platform they could get their hands on. And it especially wasn’t by the ones who’d do it to his face. Thing is, he often turned them down.

He didn’t need to oblige them if he was getting it from you every other night.

It started late in the 2022-23 hockey season. You were shocked by just how incredible the Bruins’ season was going, and by association, Trent’s. He was even up for NESN’s 7th Player Award.

He’d gained…confidence. And a lot of it. Of course, Trent kept a good head on his shoulders—he was never in over his head, but he carried that high with him when he played, and it showed. That was around the time you began to see your friend through a different lens than you normally had.

And it was through that same new lens that you saw him the first time he took you to bed.

It was often that you’d go for small periods of time without seeing each other since the team would travel for their road games. But this time it had been weeks since you’d seen him; you lived in Boston, but you went on a trip with your family, and the team left for a road trip when you got back. It was the longest you’d been apart since the beginning of the season, paired with the newfound attraction to him.

He showed up at your door when they finally arrived home, much to your surprise. One thing led to another, and you eventually found yourself laid flat on your bed with the weight of his body on top of you.

But he traveled a ton, visited home often, and you had your own life, so things remained strictly physical. And when you weren’t tangled up with him, you were friends.

Was it stupid? Probably. No, it was—you knew that much. Maybe because it was just meaningless sex. Maybe because you could only see each other when he was in Boston. Or maybe because the one thing that wasn’t supposed to happen, happened.

Maybe you’d begun to feel for each other.

Trent loved to fight. It was an integral part of his game, and it even used to be one of the only things he did do. You couldn’t lie, either—it was hot when he did it, and the nights after were typically…well spent.

So when Trent got into a tussle with Tampa Bay’s Tanner Jeannot, you found your attention to be especially focused on him and the blood trickling down his face as he skated off the ice.

Two nights later, you heard the noise that you’d been not-so-patiently waiting for; the one that you rejected sleep for, and the one you assumed you’d be hearing at some point during the night. The knock on your door.

At nearly two in the morning, you heard it, and your feet quickly carried you to the door, knowing exactly what was waiting behind it:

Trent, arms folded, sporting a vicious black eye with a particularly large grin on his lips.

You put on a brave face and straightened out your shoulders, hoping to achieve some sort of collectiveness. A brief period of silence prevailed until you finally broke it.

“Hey,” you spoke in your best attempt to sound nonchalant.

“Hey,” he repeated your tone, taking a step closer to you as you took one back, silently allowing him to pass through the doorway and into your apartment.

“I missed you, y’know,” your voice rang softly in his ears as your head tilted back to look up at him.

His ringed finger traced the shape of your jawline and found its place just under your chin. “That so?” he rasped, a teasing hint in his tone.

“Mhm,” the matter-of-fact response softly left your stretched lips as your arms wrapped around him. “How’s your eye?”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “not that bad. I’ve had worse.”

“I was watching. It looked pretty bad at first, no?”

“It was. I couldn’t see.” His eyes narrowed as he leaned down to you, tongue slipping out to lick his lips. “Why do you ask? You worried about me?”

Instead of a verbal reply, your hand slid up to his face, thumb gently grazing the bruised skin of his eye as you quietly examined it. Then, you leaned up, gently pressing your lips to the corner of his eye, just where the bruising originated atop the initial cut. His hold on you tightened just slightly as he flinched at the contact. You trailed more feather-light kisses down his cheek, moving in a path toward his nose and the second wound.

“A little,” you finally whispered as your lips reached the reddened skin near the cut, then moved downward at a torturously slow pace, eventually hovering just in front of his parted ones. “But I was more focused on how you looked rather than how it looked.”

“And how was that?” he inquired, his warm breath fanning your lips.

The soft “hot” barely was able to leave your mouth before he pressed his lips firmly to yours, effectively cutting you off. Large hands pressed into your sides as the one previously under your chin slid down and aligned with the other at your hips. He pulled you into him, the gesture with a bit of force driven by the want that built up in the time that passed since he’d seen you last.

He walked you backward, slowly urging you toward the nearest surface that he could press you against. The leg of the couch hit the back of your knee and brought you to a halt just as he pulled back for a breath.

“You want it here or—”

“Bed.”

In a matter of seconds, your body was hoisted up, legs wrapped around his waist as he walked you down the short hallway and into your room. The slam of the door echoed throughout the space when his foot kicked it shut. It wasn’t long before you laid flat on the bed with the weight of Trent’s body atop yours.

The whole arrangement was stupid—hooking up with the same person, however many times, just for the satisfaction of it. You knew you should’ve ended it weeks ago—hell, months ago—but you didn’t. Because he felt too good, and you just couldn’t find the strength to deny him.

The warmth of his hands imprinted itself on your hips, your waist, the frail skin below your t-shirt that had begun to ride up your midsection. Your own fingers tangled into his hair, grasping the loose reddish-brown curls with a sense of fervent urgency as his lips trailed from your jaw down to your neck.

“Shit,” you sighed, pushing his head further into your neck, pulling him impossibly closer to your skin.

“Like that, mm?”

“God, don’t start now,” you spoke with a roll of your eyes, breaths labored as they passed through your parted lips.

“Too late.”

A roll of your eyes was your only response, and his fingers left a faint squeeze on your waist as he lifted his head, face hovering above yours. “What, you just gonna take that from a dumb hockey player?”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

“And why shouldn’t I?”

“Because,” you breathed, “you haven’t seen everything yet.”

When he asked what you meant, he was first met with a silent grin; one that told him he was going to have to find out for himself, but not before you gave him a hint, just a nudge in the right direction. So you removed a hand from his head and wrapped the fingers around his wrist, slowly pushing his own hand up until it came into contact with the soft material that hugged your upper body, still covered by the fabric of your shirt.

Only a moment passed before he was peeling it from your body, quickly having realized exactly what that “everything” was from earlier.

Now, your upper half was exposed, the cool air streaming in from your cracked-open window and hitting your skin in just the right places. And on display for Trent’s eyes to see was the black, lacey material—a sight he’d never seen on you before, and one that he just knew he could get used to.

“Well,” his head dipped down, lips beginning to kiss along your stomach and slowly working their way up, “would you look at that?”

“Mm,” was all that you were able to manage as he reached the fabric on your chest.

“Not every day that I get to see you like this,” he noted softly.

“I know.” A faint groan left your parted lips when you exhaled, letting go of the breath you held in as he worked his way up to your collarbones.

Your hands found the hem of his shirt and swiftly tore it from his body, letting it fall to the ground as your fingers explored his back. The tag that hung from the now-visible chain around his neck hit the warm skin between your collarbones, the familiar cold surface telling you what it was without you having to bat an eye.

“Still haven’t…haven’t seen everything yet.”

“I’m working on it,” he cooed, lips teasing the skin of your neck as he worked your sweatpants down your legs, just far enough for you to kick them off.

Finally, the purchase you made earlier that day was on full display for him, hugging each curve in the perfect place. He pushed himself up, both hands planted on the bed with one on each side of you. You watched as his eyes trailed from your face down to your chest, stopping at your waist before bringing them back into focus at your eyes. The breath he let out before speaking could have easily been mistaken for a moan.

“You’re incredible.”

You grinned as his hand slipped between your legs, fingers dancing along the dampened lace slowly. “God, already?” he teased, dragging his fingers across the fabric, causing your breath to hitch just slightly.

“Please,” you laughed. “Don’t act so surprised.”

“Oh, don’t worry—I’m not.”

It never took much for you to be ready for him; he always had this way about him that never failed to turn you on, and he knew it.

And tonight, he and you both knew that there wasn’t room for stalling.

So you pulled him back down to you, tongue tangling with his. His hand rose up to take yours, lacing your fingers tightly with his, then brought the two to his face where he kissed the back of yours.

“Symbolistic tonight, aren’t we?” you remarked with a faint laugh.

“Something like that,” he winked as he reached down and unbuckled his belt, tossing it to the floor along with the other discarded articles of clothing.

“Tell me something,” he spoke promptly, fingers unzipping his pants.

“Hm?”

“If I wanted you to do something, would you do it?”

“Such as?” you inquired.

“Such as…” he repeated with a stretch of his lips as he lifted himself up and moved onto his back beside you. “Come here.”

At his words, you inched closer to him, his eyes boring into yours as you looked up. “Yeah?”

“I want you to get on top.”

Your eyes shot open.

He made himself clear, and you knew exactly what you heard. You probably should have predicted it from the way he laid on his back so fast, but you didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t exactly something that would’ve crossed your mind; it couldn’t have when you’d never done it before. All of the times you’d been with him—in all of the places—it was something you hadn’t done. And he knew that.

“Trent, I’ve never—”

“I know,” he cut you off, a finger placed just under your chin. “It’s okay. I’ll help you.”

“I…” you swallowed, brows knit together as he looked down at you, “…okay.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips. Despite the situation, he was being gentle. “Just let me help you, ‘mkay? And if it gets too much, we’ll stop.”

You nodded, and that was when he brought his hands to your lips and carefully lifted you over him, setting you down atop his lower stomach before he situated himself below his waist. Then, he instructed you to lift yourself up slightly, allowing his fingers to slip between your legs and move the fabric to the side so he could line himself up.

Finally, you felt the pressure of him pressing at your entrance just slightly, and you knew he was ready.

“Hold on to me.”

At his word, you put a hand on each shoulder firmly and looked at him, giving him the cue to continue. His hands on your hips slowly and carefully lowered you down, allowing you to sink into his lap comfortably. Various soft whimpers were pried from your throat as you took him, the all-new feeling setting in.

You hadn’t noticed that your eyes had screwed shut at some point through it, but of course, he did.

“Hey,” he spoke gently, not to startle you.

You slowly opened your eyes and looked down into his, brows still knit and unwilling to falter as you awaited his next word. You didn’t say a word, knowing that you’d be letting nothing slip from your lips but heavy breaths as you adjusted to him.

“Look at how pretty you are…”

A curt tilt of your head was your first move. “Don’t,” you tried to speak, cut off by your own breaths, “don’t lie.”

“You think I’m lying?” he scoffed, chuckling as he brought his ringed finger under your chin once more. “Just look at you.”

A hand ran along the lace around your waist, then slowly moved up to your chest, tracing the band. “See?” he leaned up and pressed a kiss to your lips. “See how pretty you are?”

All you could manage was a nod as his hands settled at your waist once more and moved his hips, lowering you just slightly further, carefully gauging how much you could take to start.

“You feel that?”

“Mhm.”

He slid you up a bit, allowing you to feel the movement; to adjust to it before he started for real. He gave you a moment to tighten your grip, and when he finally felt your muscles relax just slightly, he let you sink down fully. You let out a whimper as your fingers dug into his shoulders.

The feeling of him inside you should’ve been all too familiar by now, and it would’ve been had it been under the typical circumstances. But this time was different. For just a sliver of time—a split second—it felt like you were back to the first night you spent with him, your senses heightened as they hyper-focused on how perfectly he filled you.

Every last inch of him could be felt from this position. It felt incredible, and you couldn’t gather enough strength to voice it.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “I’m…okay.”

“Good,” he softly replied, leaning up to kiss you again. “This is the hard part, ‘mkay?”

“Okay.”

With that, he used his hands to begin moving you. It was slow at first—he knew you would struggle then, and he wanted you to be able to handle it before he continued. So he moved his hips along with you, keeping a pace that he was sure you were okay with.

“Fuck,” your voice finally sounded, and he couldn’t help but grin softly. Before he knew it, you were moving along with him, matching his pace and breathing deeply.

“That’s it,” he encouraged quietly.

And when he knew you were alright, his hips sped up, just enough to satisfy his own needs without making you uncomfortable. His position was now altered, as were the places he reached, prolonging your pleasure and providing another feeling for you to get used to—him buried to the hilt as he thrust his hips up, meeting with yours each time as you slowly gained comfort.

You buried your face into his neck, the skin doing an average job at concealing your moans. He breathed out deeply as your hand trailed from his shoulder down to his chest, cold metal of his chain pressing into your palm. Your mind was unable to fixate itself on anything other than him, how good he felt, and how you hadn’t already done it before.

It never took much to remind you of why you kept agreeing to this.

“Look at me,” he finally spoke, prompting you to lift your head, eyes meeting with his as you gripped his chest.

“When you’re close, say something to me.”

At his bluntness, your stomach dropped. It was a demand, no doubt, but despite the situation, his demeanor was gentle. His intentions were clear; he wanted to know, to prepare you. To help you when the time came, because—like anything—it wouldn’t be easy.

A breathy “okay” was all that you managed to let out, accompanied by a sharp nod.

His gaze trailed down, stopping at your chest and finally taking in the sight before him. He’d never seen you in something so weakening. As much as one part of him wanted to tear the black lace straight from your body, the other couldn’t imagine letting it leave his sight. And although he was in control, guiding you through each and every movement, he was completely captivated by you.

By now, you’d begun to take a sliver of initiative, allowing yourself to set a pace that you could comfortably keep up with. Trent’s hands remained on your hips, loosening their grip just slightly to give you not just the freedom you needed, but the support that he knew you couldn’t go without.

Finally, a familiar feeling grew in your stomach as your hand moved back up to his shoulder with a growing suspicion of needing the extra support. You wanted to listen to him; to tell him something like he said to do before. So you did.

“Hands,” was all you could manage, your strained voice pulling him and his focus away from your chest.

“Hm?”

“Don’t,” you sighed, “move them.”

“They’re not going anywhere,” he reassured you, repositioning them just above your waist, grip remaining firm as he pulled you into him, allowing you to sink more comfortably into his lap.

The warmth that his large hands gave to your skin paired with the cool touch of his ring brought a sense of familiarity to you, allowing your body to relax into his as you rode through the mild, yet growing discomfort.

“Right there,” you mumbled, gripping him tighter as the pit in your stomach grew, urging you further toward your breaking point. He allowed you to get yourself there, to go at your own pace, helping you to keep yourself as comfortable as possible, given the situation.

And before you knew it, your eyes were screwed shut as you reached the high you’d been chasing. He felt you tighten around him, the pressure causing his head to fall back as he sucked air through his teeth. But through it, he helped you, worked you through your release as he finally brought himself to his. You were grateful for his support, especially in this moment.

Moans spilled from your lips, each one more uncontrollably loud than the last. He always felt good, but god, it had never been this good.

And when he slid a hand from your hip to your stomach, you were easily able to guess what he was doing; what he was feeling for. That was all it took for him to be pulled over with you, thoroughly coating your walls with his own warm release and undoubtedly increasing your pleasure.

You continued to move your hips as much as you could manage, and your efforts drew a low groan from him. Your legs were weak, trembling from the unfamiliar feeling of being spread open for such an extensive period, along with his dick hitting just about every last sweet spot possible.

“Trent,” you whimpered, and he removed his hand from your stomach to place it behind your head, easing you down to his chest as he stilled.

Labored breaths filled the space as you lay just under his shoulder, your palm having made its way back to his chest, chain resting below it once more. His arm was wrapped around your waist, hand now in the small of your back, rubbing back and forth gently.

“You did great,” he whispered.

You nodded slowly, eyes closed as your breathing began to steady. The hand that rubbed your back was the subject of your focus, helping to calm you and your body as it melted into the warmth of his.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, tapping the back of your head with a finger. Warm brown eyes greeted yours when you looked up, a faint smile taking shape on his face as his palm flattened against the back of your head.

“I’m proud of you.”

Your head tilted to the side as a smile crept up on your face to match his. “You are?”

“Mhm,” he confirmed, pulling you closer. “You did so good.”

He leaned over to kiss your cheek, lingering for just a moment before resting his head back once more. Beads of sweat coated him—his forehead, his neck, his chest—and you could feel it under your palms. But you didn’t pay it any mind. You just kept your body comfortably still against his.

“Thanks,” you chuckled quietly.

“Mhm.”

“You know, I, uh,” you started, then took in a breath while you gathered the words that slipped you. Your head tilted downward, eyes honing in on his chest as you continued, just slightly too embarrassed to look up. “I’m glad it was you.”

“Yeah?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” you nodded back. “You’re just about the only guy I’d trust not to…to hurt me. Or use it to his own benefit instead.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “It sounds so fucking stupid saying it out loud, but people just…suck.”

“Hey,” he brought his finger under to your chin once again, nudging it upward until your gaze realigned with his.

“I’d never do that.”

“I know,” you whispered, brows knitting together as you nodded. “I trust you.”

“Good,” he nodded, then leaned up to kiss you softly, pulling you in with his finger.

When he pulled away, his lips remained centimeters away from yours, warm breath grazing your face lightly as you parted yours to speak gently.

“Stay with me.”

He didn’t have to think about it—he already knew what he’d say. But he wanted to be sure that you were sure first. Through all of the nights you had together, he’d never stayed the night, and neither had you.

His freckled cheeks stretched as a smile shaped his face, his teeth now on display. “You sure?”

When you nodded in response, you barely gave him time to finish the phrase, swallowing thickly as you awaited his answer.

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

When you leaned back over to hug him, it caused him to shift in you, eliciting a whimper from your lips. He took notice quickly, moving his hands back to your hips and stabilizing you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just,” you breathed shakily, “just need to move.”

“Come on, I’ll help you.”

He gripped you tightly as you slowly lifted yourself up, a long, weak breath escaping your parted lips as your eyes began to close. His voice helped calm you down as he spoke to you softly. “It’s okay,” he reassured you for what seemed like the tenth time, “I’ve got you.”

Finally, you laid down comfortably next to him. Your arm rested atop his midsection, hand resting in the same place on his chest as he wrapped his own arm around your waist. He pulled you into him, into the warmth of his large body, coaxing your head to his chest once more.

“Trent,” you spoke finally, your eyes growing in size as you tilted your head up. “You didn’t put a—”

“I know,” he softly told you, his soft eyes meeting yours. “You’re consistent, and I’m not hooking up with anyone else.”

“Okay.”

At first, your mind seemed to slip past the last part. It quickly circled back around, however, a confused expression now lined your face. “You’re not?”

“No,” he shook his head.

“Why?”

“You’re enough.”

Your expression fell instantly, shock plaguing your thoughts as you lifted your head and tried to blink yourself out of the state you were now in. “But we’re not—”

“I know.”

You knew you wouldn’t get more out of him, and both you and him could tell that the other was tired. So you put your head back down and set it aside for the morning. “Okay.”

Trent pulled the sheets up and laid them across your shoulder, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Get some sleep, ‘mkay?”

“Okay,” you whispered back with a nod.

“…Night, Trent.”

The two of you were asleep just moments later, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. Now, something was different, and you both knew it. It was intimate; more intimate than it had ever been for you two.

For the first time, you would spend the whole night with him. And it surely wouldn’t be the last.

So maybe this whole thing was stupid, after all. But this time, you came out the other end knowing why.

Because you did feel for each other.

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