#Tyson Jost x female reader

[mikkomacko]

DATING TYSON JOST-INSTAGRAM POSTS

Happy Tyson Tuesday and Josty birthday! (and pie day too I guess) Sorry I've been MIA just been busy. Anyway here's something cute and simple to celebrate our favorite guy

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Josty17: Chilling with my chilled Coors light 😎

#ad #21+

📸: your.instagram

Coors light: We love to see it

Landeskog.92: Influencer era

JTCompher: making the big bucks now I see

Your.instagram: sorry y'all he's a transplant and hasn't learned that banquet is better

-> Newhook18: tell him teach

->your.instagram: school's not really his thing unfortunately

->Josty17: Hey! I went to college

LOConnor: DU would've taught you better bud #SkoPios

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Your.instagram: 2 minutes and he still didn't realize I was sitting here

Tagged: Josty17

ColoradoAvalanche: Mr.Influencer has learned to ignore the camera

Josty17: Didn't realize it was visiting hours at the jailhouse

-> your.instagram: 🎶 mama I'm in love with a criminal🎶

6ErikJohnson6: Josty give her the attention she deserves before I do

-> your.instagram: wearing your sweater next game 🫶

->Josty17: Oh dear...

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Josty17: A screenshot from today's daily FaceTime with mom. If anyone's looking for a photographer hit up momma Jost

Tagged: your.instagram

Your.instagram: Don’t be shy Tys post the birds nest of bed head you cropped out

->Josty17: I’d have to reveal your cute squishy face and that’s a hard no

->Josty17: squishy face is for me and me only

AndreBurakovsky: you make out with your girl while your mom is on FaceTime??

->JTCompher: confirmed mommy issues Josty

->Josty17: we were not making out I was pinching her face together to make her mad

->your.instagram: then we made out

->Josty17: babe stop we did not make out in front of my mother

Liked by Josty17 and others

Your.instagram: Uber driver was really hot but only played SoundCloud recordings of his ukelele 7/10

Tagged: Josty17

JTCompher: he's working hard for that tip

Cradnec: Wow cutie. How do I request this driver?

->Your.instagram: offer to buy his dinner and he'll respond within 2 seconds

Josty17: I play Justin Bieber upon request

-> Your.instagram: no one requests Justin Bieber

->Josty17: I'm a Pisces... please don't spite me...please no fighting :(

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Josty17: My girl dressed me for this one. Apparently pinstripes are in

Landeskog92: Hope you play as good as you dress

6ErikJohnson6: Did she pack your lunch for you to?

->Josty16: extra juice box and everything

-> your.instagram: I also wrapped his booboo finger for him 🥰

Your.instagram: wow you're almost as hot as this winning streak #GoAvsGo

->Josty17: Gonna keep turning up the heat 🔥

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Your.instagram: He clearly wasn't pleased to see my Condor jersey tonight

Tagged: Josty17, 6ErikJohnson6

MelLandeskog: you travelled to see your man and still didn't wear his sweater?! Brutal

->your.instagram: Toasty needed to be humbled after he ignored me in the box and didn't throw me a puck last game

6ErikJohnson6: I love my fans (you) but more importantly I love my haters (Josty)

->Landeskog92: Fan behavior from both of them

Josty17: The lord giveth (my girl at my game) and the Lord taketh (her in my mortal enemy's jersey)

-> Your.instagram: The lord giveth (a hot hockey bf) and the Lord taketh (him giving my warmup puck to the 5 year old with a sign)

-> Josty17: Babe he was a child and it's a rubber disk

->Your.instagram: *my rubber disk

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Josty17: Snow days >>

Tagged: your.instagram

Makar8: That's a Canadian welcome if I've ever seen one

->Josty17: warm greetings for our adopted Canadian y/n Josty

->Landeskog92: y/n Josty?!

->Josty17: Figured I'd give her time to get used to it before it becomes her name

Your.instagram: Tys at home days >>

->Josty17: clingy gf days >>

->Your.instagram: clingy for you 25/8

->Josty17: <3 :-)

AndreBurakovsky: please tell me your mom didn't take this pic

->Josty17: this is the work of an overbearing and imposing sister

->Your.instagram: an overbearing and imposing sister that we love with all our hearts

->Josty17: my girls 🫡

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Your.instagram: Josty fan girls rise up

Tagged: Josty17

6ErikJohnson6: you're telling me he's naked in the middle of a Canadian winter??

->Your.instagram: #FreeTheNipple is year round baby

JTCompher: Josty fan girl here. Thanks for my new lockscreen pic

->Your.instagram: Strength in numbers

Landeskog92: Hot

Josty17: Didn't even give me a heads-up so I could flex for ya

-> your.instagram: your abs are the star of this show please stop complaining

->Josty17: Would've hiked my shorts up higher if ya asked ;-)

->Your.instagram: Thighs are for my eyes only babes

[brainrattlers]

The Third Date

(Author's note: This is actually part of a larger story I'm working on, but I had to put it out there with the Avalanche's gift they gave to us in the form of JT and Tyson going through the haunted house.)

Her phone dinged with a new text from Tyson.

"Hey. What are you doing tonight?"

"Ummmmm... laundry? Getting caught up on Squid Game?"

"Nah, I've got a surprise. Can I pick you up at 6:30?"

She was indeed a little surprised, but also impressed with the initiative Tyson had been taking on setting up the past two dates.

"What do you have planned?"

"Don't want to ruin it, can't tell you. Might want a jacket, it's probably going to be a little chilly."

"What are you planning, Jost?"

"Just trust me, I think you'll love it."

"Alright, I'll see you at 6:30."

The rest of the afternoon was spent figuring out what could have spurred on this quick set of plans for a date, but she wasn't coming up with anything. The relationship was so new, it was texting constantly, and sending snaps back and forth, but there hadn't been a lot of in-person hanging out yet. Her mind was completely drawing a blank as to what the date was going to be.

The evening rolled around, and Tyson being Tyson, he showed up 10 minutes early. He seemed very anxious about the date, as he sat on the sofa in her apartment waiting for her to finish up grabbing her hoodie from the closet. He loved the fact she just was herself, not trying to be something she wasn't for him. She caught him smiling and staring as she slid it over her head.

"Is this okay?"

"Yep, it's perfect. Let's goooo, tickets are for 7:15."

"Tickets? For what?"

"You'll see when we get there."

The two walked out to Tyson's car, where he opened the passenger door.

"Your chariot awaits, m'lady."

"Is there a ren fest going on or something?" She laughed at the name.

"I was trying to come up with a fun pet name for you, seeing what sticks. M'lady it isn't." They both laughed.

After a bit of driving, they pulled up into the parking lot, where there were Halloween decorations everywhere. A line was forming near the front of the building, with a wide variety of people in queue. Tyson seemed fidgety still, but kept his cool.

"Surprise! It's that haunted house you were telling me about that you saw on the news! Are you excited?"

She was taken aback by this, and kind of unsure what to say.

"Uh, yeah! Let's go!"

The two got in line, and the nervousness was starting to set in. Tyson was starting to laugh a lot, and put her ahead of him. This move had her concerned. She was full of nervous energy, and really not prepared for what was to come.

As they inched in, she insisted Tyson go first, and he did, for about the first 10 steps. Someone in a dark corner of the room jumped out and caused both to scream as they grabbed onto each other, which he was completely okay with. Yet somehow she ended up in front of him again. Tyson continued to flinch and nervously laugh and scream, burying his face into her shoulder.

"Tyson Jost, why are you using me as your human shield? You're supposed to be protecting ME, goof!"

He tried to laugh it off but people kept jumping out of the shadows, or straight up following them, causing shouts and jumps in the opposite direction constantly. She was pretty sure somewhere in the haunted house, Tyson actually punched a clown character in self-defense. And it was so like him to apologize on the spot.

Another point she caught him yelling "You're not allowed to touch me!" at a group of zombies that popped up. This was a much different scenario to be hearing that statement in than what she had possibly daydreamed about previously.

After being chased out of the maze, both were hanging onto each other and trying to catch their breath. Tyson broke the silence first.

"So what did you think? Was it as good as you expected?"

She tried to choose her words carefully. It didn't come out as tactful as she had hoped.

"I appreciate the effort you put into this, I really do, but... I really hate haunted houses."

Tyson's face fell from true curiosity to concern, then to confusion.

"Wait, you sounded so excited about this place when you told me about it?"

"Well yeah, you were talking about wanting to do something for Halloween but wasn't sure what to do... I just brought it up thinking you might like the idea. I'm sorry I gave you the wrong idea about this."

Tyson started laughing.

"I hate haunted houses too. Why do you think I kept pushing you in front of me? I don't even like scary movies!"

The two laughed for a few moments, getting the last bit of nervous energy out from everything they witnessed in the haunted house. All the while, she was conjuring up a new idea.

"Tyson, I have a better idea for Halloween. Let's head back to my place."

She looked at him with a soft smile, grabbing his hand gently. His eyes grew wide.

"Not for that, Jost. Get your mind out of the gutter."

Tyson pouted, but lead the way back to his car.

The two shared their thoughts on the event, no matter how tainted from the dislike of haunted houses, all the way back to her place. Most of them were things like "YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN YOUR FACE WHEN THE PUPPET JUMPED OUT AT YOU!" and "I thought you were going to break my hand as hard as you were squeezing it." (Tyson does have quite the grip.)

Finally back at her place, she lead him upstairs and asked if he wanted anything to drink as he sat back down on the sofa from earlier. Back from the kitchen, she brought out a little bowl of Halloween candy, beverages, and pulled the blanket off the other chair in the living room. Before he knew it, she was snuggled up close to him, grabbing the remote to pull up something to watch.

"Seeing as how we both don't like jump scares and such, here's the next best thing I could think of to celebrate Halloween..."

By the end of It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!, Tyson had his head in her lap, her fingers playing with his curls atop his head. Candy wrappers were all over the coffee table.

He looked up at her and smiled.

"Best Halloween ever, Pumpkin."

She raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"That might be worse than m'lady. Keep trying."

"I'll find a nickname for you yet, babe."

[kolsmikaelson]

tyson jost and a plus size girl for the instagram edits pls 🥺🥺

of course!!

josty17

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tagged: yourusername

josty17: my beautiful girl❤️

view all 256 comments

yourusername: i love you ty

avswags: 😍

user47: love this!!!

[so-writing]

Disheartening / 3 times Tyson Jost let you down + 1 time you returned the favor

Tyson Jost x female!reader

-

“Pey, he responded.” 

The two of you were sat in the back of your Uber on the way to your favorite bar when you heard the text notification coming from your clutch. 

“Yeah? What did he say?” 

I’m sorry I couldn’t respond to this earlier, got really busy this evening. I can’t go out tonight but maybe another time?

“Don’t respond,” Peyton grabbed your phone out of your hands before you could register her actions, “he turned you down so you’re going to ignore him. This is how this works, babe.”

one 

“He just rounded the corner, get ready.”

“There’s no way this is going to work.”

“Yeah it is, and he’s getting closer, get in fucking position.”

It was a terrible idea, tripping and falling in front of the cute guy you’d seen running in your favorite spot lately, but Peyton believed it would work and she was hellbent on securing you a man. 

“Go,” she gave you a slight shove, forcing you off the bench and running toward the man. 

Your sunglasses allowed you to freely check him out and you almost forgot what the purpose of this whole scheme was. He didn’t have on a shirt and his dark curls bounced adorably against his forehead with every step. 

Make it look believable, you thought to yourself, make it look believable. He was roughly ten feet ahead of you when you went for it. 

“Holy shit!” 

Well, it worked. He broke out of his focus and jogged up to you as he pulled out of his earbuds, “are you okay?!”

“Uh, I don’t know,” and truthfully, you didn’t.

You knew you had to fall but you didn’t quite realize how badly you might have to injure yourself to make it look believable. Both your knees were busted up and bloody—why the fuck hadn’t you worn a thick pair of leggings instead of shorts?—and your palms were scraped up pretty bad from the poor attempt at catching yourself. 

“Can I help? You’re bleeding pretty bad.”

He pulled some fabric out of the pocket of his shorts and wrapped it around your right palm before gently pulling you up by the arm. 

“Why do you have a bandana in your pocket?”

“You see these curls? Sometimes they need taming,” the smile he cracked sent your heart into your throat and caused you to forget for just a moment that you were bleeding all over the place in a public park. 

“Do you live nearby? We need to get you cleaned up.” 

“Yeah, but I can manage, thank you..?”

“Tyson’s the name. I absolutely believe you can manage, but I want to help anyway. Where are we headed?”

*

“I told you it would work!” 

Peyton, your roommate and best friend, had kept herself quiet and locked in her room with her ear pressed to the door while Tyson helped you clean and bandage yourself up. It was a quick interaction, he was only there for maybe ten minutes, but the plan worked because he left his number and told you to text him anytime you were up for a run. 

‘You obviously need a buddy to make sure you stay on your feet,’ he had joked and given you another stunning smile before heading out to finish his run. 

“This is romcom movie shit, if I text him, he’ll probably just ignore it. He was being nice.”

“Yeah, he was, he didn’t have to come back here though. He could’ve easily left when you tried to dismiss him, which why the fuck did you do that?”

“It needed to be believable!”

“Whatever, you should text him now. Invite him out with us tonight?” 

“I just met him like two hours ago.”

“Yeah but you’ve been secretly gawking over him for like two weeks, invite him out.” 

Your finger hovered over the new message icon as you considered the potential outcome of inviting Tyson out with your friends. At worst, he could simply say no or just not respond. At best, you could spend a fun evening with your friends and get to know the cute guy that runs at your favorite park a little bit better. 

“Fuck it, sure.” 

*

Tyson felt his phone buzz in his pocket but he was already late for the evening skate and he wanted nothing less than a scolding for tardiness. He snatched it from his pocket and quickly checked the message, expecting a text from family or maybe friends from home that weren’t aware of his schedule. 

Hey, I know it’s kind of weird because we just met but maybe you’d like to come out with my friends and I tonight? They’re pretty fun, no pressure though. 

He was not expecting a text message from the cute girl that ‘accidentally’ ate shit right in front of him earlier on his afternoon run. Tyson had seen her a few times since he started coming to that particular park, and he also saw her sitting on the bench with her friend as he rounded the corner before eagerly jumping up and heading in his direction. 

It was different approach than most women took when attempting to get to know him, she definitely got some points for creativity and some more for taking on an injury for his sake. 

“Dude, come on! Get off your phone, we gotta go!” 

Tyson dropped his phone in the small front pocket of his bag, fully intent on responding to her message after the skate with a resounding ‘i’d love to come out tonight.’

*

“Has he responded?”

“No,” you tried not to look as bummed out as you felt as you applied your makeup, “it’s fine though, told you he was just being nice.” 

“Maybe he’s busy,” Peyton tried, “what if he’s a famous rockstar? Or a world renowned chef? Or a heart surgeon?”

“What if he’s just a random guy who was being nice? Maybe he has a girlfriend. It’s honestly fine, Pey, can we just let it go?” 

“Sure babe, we’ll let it go.” 

*

Holy fuck. He was exhausted. 

The evening skate was less of a normal skate and more of an intensive workout that lasted much later than it should have. Every bone in his body ached and the only thing in the world that he wanted right at that moment was his bed. 

It wasn’t until he was home, showered and in his bed that he unlocked his phone to check his messages, only to see the text from the girl from the park. 

“Oh shit,” there was no way he was in any condition to go out that night but he didn’t want to make her think he wasn’t interested, because he definitely was. The timing just happened to be shit. 

*

“Pey, he responded.” 

The two of you were sat in the back of your Uber on the way to your favorite bar when you heard the text notification coming from your clutch. 

“Yeah? What did he say?” 

I’m sorry I couldn’t respond to this earlier, got really busy this evening. I can’t go out tonight but maybe another time?

“Don’t respond,” Peyton grabbed your phone out of your hands before you could register her actions, “he turned you down so you’re going to ignore him. This is how this works, babe.”

////

two

You didn’t see Tyson again for about a week, and when you finally did, you stayed on your feet and passed him without making eye contact. 

“Hey,” you heard him but continued your run and pretended as if you didn’t, “hey?”

Tyson was jogging alongside you now and you tried your best to ignore both your nerves and the man himself. 

“Are you mad at me or something?”

That had you stopping and removing your own earbuds, “sorry, what?” 

You heard him perfectly, but he didn’t need to know.

“Are you mad I didn’t come out with you last week?” 

“No, why would I be?” 

“I don’t know,” he wiped the hem of his shirt across his forehead, revealing his toned stomach that you didn’t dare take a peek at, “you never responded to my text. I figured you got pissed at me.”

“Tyson, I don’t even know you. I have no grounds to be pissed about anything. It was a friendly invite and you were busy and that was cool. We’re good, bud.” 

“I’m glad,” he smiled that stupidly beautiful fucking grin again, “race to you the light?”

*

Meeting at ten in the morning and running the length of the park until just before noon became a sort of ritual for you and Tyson. 

In the beginning it was just two people running next to each other listening to music but as the days passed, the level of comfort grew between the two of you. These days, the earbuds had been abandoned entirely while you casually chatted as you jogged.

Tyson Jost, you finally learned his last name, was a professional hockey player for the Avalanche. He had a crazy schedule and was busy most of the time but you found it kind of endearing that he almost always made time to go running with you. 

“So Tys,” the friendship had recently cleared the nickname level, “Peyton’s birthday is next week and if you can make time in your pro hockey player schedule to attend, she’d love that.”

Peyton and Tyson officially met not too long after you established an actual friendship with him and as much as she tried to play it cool, everyone with a pulse could tell that she wanted the two of you to get together as soon as yesterday.

“Definitely, text me the details and I’ll be there.” 

“You sure? If I get her hopes up and you bail, she’ll be sad.”

“She’ll be sad?” 

It was obvious that you were into him and you were pretty sure he knew it too. So when he asked that question, you put on your best ‘sure yeah whatever’ face and gave him an unnecessary insult in a weak attempt to throw him off. 

“Obviously, if Peyton doesn’t have someone that has even the tiniest bit of notoriety, and I mean the tiniest, she’ll be sad.”

“Ouch,” Tyson slapped his palm against his chest, “you hurt me, but I’ll be there. Only for Peyton though, just Peyton,” you caught the quick wink he sent you before he took off. 

“She will appreciate that,” you called after him, ignoring the giddy feeling forming in your chest. 

The two of you ran back to the parking lot in silence, but your shoulders bumped occasionally as you jogged closer to each other than normal. It felt different, and kind of weird, but you weren’t bothered at all.

*

The Avalanche demolished the Kraken in the first game of the season and everyone on the team wanted to go out and celebrate a win against the newest team in the NHL. 

Tyson scored the game winning goal and his teammates and friends were hyping him up so hard that he completely forgot he had plans that night. Plans that involved his favorite running buddy. 

The bar was packed full of people, both fans of the team and those that were just trying to enjoy their evening. As soon as the guys loaded into one of the booths, people were practically throwing drinks their way and it was safe to say that no one was going to enjoy the next morning’s practice because they were going to be hungover as hell.

He was several shots and three beers deep, seeing stars and loving the attention from the pretty blonde whose name he didn’t know perched on his thigh to see the group of people in the corner booth that were staring at him and shaking their heads in disgust.

*

“I’m not surprised, not at all, this is what these fuckers do.”

You threw back your third shot of vodka and tried not to look at him. Tyson and his teammates had thundered into the bar half an hour ago and uprooted any sense of calm in the place. 

“I’m sorry Peyton, he should be over here celebrating you.”

“What do you have to be sorry for? He’s the one licking the bottom of that idiot’s esophagus.”

It was easy to avoid paying attention to him initially, when he was just with his teammates, but when the girl wandered up to him and he happily accepted her attention, shit changed. You weren’t together at all, you were just two people who went running together, but you thought there was something working its way to the surface between the two of you.

Obviously, you were wrong. Also, fuck Tyson Jost. 

“I know it’s your birthday and I should be the one doing this for you, but please get me drunk and find me a man that doesn’t look anything like that shitty hockey fuck to take home? Please?

“He sucks and this is really petty but I’ll consider it another gift from you if you actually do go home with someone that isn’t him tonight, and you know how much I love gifts.”

*

Tyson woke up before his flavor of the evening. She was plastered across his chest with her arm bent at the elbow and her fingers twisted in his curls. He couldn’t wait another second to get her out of his place. 

“Hey, wake up,” he had no idea what her name was. 

“Hm?”

She stirred after a few moments, and Tyson was as kind as possible as he helped her gather her clothes, put on her shoes and make her way to the Uber he had waiting. 

Tyson knew they beat the Kraken and that he scored the game winning goal but everything after that got hazy and he had very little recognition of the girl he just sent out of his place and on her way.  A long shower and two cups of coffee later, he finally decided to face last night’s decisions and the morning after text messages that they resulted in. 

Most of them were the standard kind he was used to getting after a wild night, but a message from an unknown number with a single word response deflated him entirely.

Peyton’s party was last night, at the very same bar he went to with the team after their win. You were there and he was pretty confident that you probably saw everything.

Well, fuck. 

Asshole. 

He deserved that. 

////

three

It was an easy decision when you really thought about it. 

Tyson was easy on the eyes and fun to talk to and maybe, a hard maybe, something legitimate could have happened between the two of you but he made it clear the night of Peyton’s birthday at the bar that he was entirely available for anyone willing to bite. Hockey players had a reputation and Tyson was doing the opposite of disproving it. 

You needed to cut him off entirely, so you blocked his number and changed the time you went running to coincide with his practices. Hopefully he’d get the hint and stay in the rearview where he belonged. 

*

Tyson Jost did not get the hint. 

He didn’t get why she had completely cut him off. Sure, he fucked up by being openly promiscuous at the bar the night of the party but they weren’t dating, so why would that cause her to go into panic mode and abandon him entirely? 

“Whatever man, she’s just a girl and there are plenty others to choose from.”

The team was out to celebrate another win and Tyson had scanned the entire building in search of her face and came up empty handed. Of course there were others to choose from but the one he really wanted wasn’t meeting him for morning jogs or answering his calls. 

“I know, obviously, I know that.”

“So stop fucking moping, man. Take your pick and enjoy yourself.” 

*

Milk. Romaine lettuce. Elbow noodles. Pepper jack cheese.

It was a perfectly normal grocery list and you were having a perfectly normal time at the grocery store until you rounded the corner of the dry ingredients aisle and ran directly into Tyson Jost in the produce section.

“Oh, fuck, sorry,” you were apologetic until you realized who it was that dropped their cucumbers, “Tyson, hi.” 

“Hey,” he hesitated as he picked up the produce you had knocked out of his hands with your basket, “haven’t seen you in a minute.”

“Yeah, same, sorry about your cucumbers.”

“They’re probably fine.” 

If you had to rank the most awkward moments in your life, this one would take the fucking cake. 

“Good to see you, Tys.”

“Thanks, good to see you too.”

*

Tyson wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension hanging between them, but she was gone as soon as she arrived and there was no way he was going to be that fucking guy and follow her through the grocery store and pester her until she stopped to speak to him. 

Except, he was and he was not proud of it.

Grocery list abandoned, he was fully intent on speaking with his former running buddy about why she had cut him off so abruptly without explanation. 

*

“I’m not following you because I’m a stalker, I’m not a stalker, I just want to talk.” 

You had to stifle a giggle at his words as he trailed behind you in the cereal aisle. He was a “fuckboy,” but he was harmless and you were kind of enjoying making him squirm, as childish as it was.

“If you really want to have a serious conversation,” you spun around and walked right up to him, pushing one of his fallen curls out of his face, “meet me where they keep the bread.”

That statement took everything in you to keep from cracking up and you could tell he was also close to the brink of laughter but he kept it in and waited a few minutes before making his toward where they kept the fucking bread.

As much as you wanted to dismiss him, you just couldn’t. There was something about Tyson Jost that was so very charming and you were a sucker and a half for him already. 

“What do you want?” 

“I just want to talk.”

Both sides of the ten foot shelving were filled with various kinds of bread, bagels and tortillas, so the thought you of having a serious conversation with so many carbohydrates around had you giggling and it was contagious. 

Tyson fell into laughter alongside you and for anyone looking in, the two of you were crazy fools laughing in the middle of the bread aisle.

“Why can’t we do this all the time?” 

“We don’t live in grocery store, it would be weird if we did.”

*

She was deflecting and he understood why.

For someone who was incredibly interested in her, Tyson had spent little to no amount of time acting like it. 

“I miss our schedule, running with you was really fun.”

“Yeah, sorry, I got busy.”

It was a lie and he knew it. That didn’t make it hurt any less. 

“Honestly, and I’m baring my soul here, I thought we had something going on.”

“I thought so too but you’re an asshole and I was wrong.”

He didn’t expect her to be so direct but he know why she was doing it.

She went to move past him, “wait, please, wait.”

“What? I want to checkout and get out of here.”

“Meet me at the diner across the street tomorrow at 7, please?”

“Sure.”

“You promise?”

He gave her his best baby puppy eyes, “yeah Tyson, I promise.” 

“Fine.”

*

It turned out that Tyson was entirely capable of waiting, just like he was entirely capable of making someone else wait for him. He would probably be down to wait so long that it was like he didn’t even show up in the first place.

It was funny, kind of, and ironic, mostly. 

You sat alone in a booth with a plate of cheese fries in front of you as you waited for Tyson and your irritation increased along with the hardening of the liquid cheese. 

He wasn’t coming. He was an asshole and a liar and a professional slut who was able to excuse his behavior because of his famous athlete status. 

Fuck Tyson Jost. 

You finished your grilled cheese sandwich and dropped a large bill on the table before quietly seeing yourself out of the diner. 

////

+ one

You weren’t willing to entertain anything serious with Tyson, but friendship was still on the table.

*

“We have an event coming up, it’s pretty legitimate.”

“Oh?”

You didn’t take your eyes off your phone, “how legit?”

“Rich sponsor legit,” he hesitated, “I need to bring a date.”

“Yeah? I’m sure nameless hookup is down to be your arm candy, give her a call.” 

The relationship you had with Tyson had fallen out of awkward tension and into easy friendship. It was simple for you to turn off your feelings, especially because of his shitty past behavior, and you assumed he felt the same. 

“Nah, not interested in going to with her. I’d rather you came with me, if that’s cool?”

It wasn’t, but you weren’t going to tell him that. 

“Sure,” you agreed. 

“Fuck, thank you so much, I'll text you with the details.”

*

The emerald dress hugged your body perfectly, showing off every lovely curve built into your body. Tyson was dumbfounded when you opened the door to him.

“Holy shit.”

“Good ‘holy shit’ or bad?”

“Definitely good,” he did his best to pick his jaw up from the ground, “more than definitely good.”

“Thanks, Tys. The car is waiting and I want some wine, let’s go?”

Tyson was still stuck in ‘holy shit’ mode, not entirely processing how lovely she looked and how much he needed her in his life in the most permanent of ways. 

“Shit, I left my necklace upstairs. I’ll meet you at the car in a few?”

“Sure, of course,” Tyson disappeared into the elevator and you breathed a heavy sigh of relief. 

You weren’t going anywhere tonight, not to an Avalanche event, and definitely not with Tyson Jost. Your phone rang a few times as you slipped out of the cocktail dress and into a pair of leggings and a tank until enough time passed that it was obvious you weren’t coming down. 

Asshole, Tyson sent the message after about thirty minutes, long after his car left the curb in front of your apartment building.

I probably deserve that. Oh well.

No thank you, Tyson Jost.

[prettyboybarzal]

MK’s Masterlist

Fics:

* indicates smut

Conversations in the Dark: Tyson Jost x OC!Female

Word Count: 8k

Fiona Gatwood and her mother move to Canada after a nasty divorce and end up moving in beside the Jost family. Quiet Fiona takes a liking to the sweet, outgoing boy, Tyson, next door and the rest is history.

*Falling For You*: Jake Debrusk x Reader

Word Count: 18k

Sutton Beckett is settling for an unhappy relationship, but a chance encounter with Jake changes everything. 

*Get You*: Sammy Blais x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Your friends never understood your crush on shy and reserved Sammy Blais and they’re even more shocked that after six years without seeing him that crush has only grown. Sammy’s back home to prove to himself, and you, that he isn’t the innocent boy they all know and love.

*We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off*: Sammy Blais x Reader

Word Count: 6.9k

Being with Sammy is great, but it feels like there’s something more to your relationship than just sex. Will the lack of communication ruin what could be or will you and Sammy finally define the relationship?

I Like Us Like This: Jamie Benn x Reader

Word Count: 5k

Jamie Benn is the worst blind date you’ve ever been on, and yet he somehow manages to redeem himself.

*Lessons in Romance*: Nathan Mackinnon x Reader

Word Count: 14k

Nate Mackinnon is really bad at keeping a steady girlfriend. He’s so bad that his unsuccessful dating history become somewhat of a joke between him and the boys, but you come along and try to set him straight.

Mornings With You: Brock Boeser x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Brock Boeser is not a morning person, but maybe the right person can change that.

Series:

Dancing with our Hands Tied: Pierre Luc Dubois x Reader

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

Tattoos Together: Tyler Seguin x Reader

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

A slow burn, friend to lovers fic with the gift of Boston Tyler, Dallas Tyler, and matching tattoos.

Smutty Blurbs:

Freddie Andersen

Bad For Me

2.1k words about Freddie and a reader with an age gap.

Good For You

3.3k words for the part two of Bad For Me 

Nolan Patrick

Ride

1.7k words about riding Nolan’s thigh. Plain and simple.

Captain

1.8k words about riding Nolan. Periodt!

Prompt Masterlist

[idontgiveaflyinggrayson69]

Here is all of what I am planning to write so PLEASE keep my accountable. I want to write all of these I just suck at sticking to my shit. And Stop letting me plan/start new projects when I have all of these to write!

To Finally Be Yours (Travis Dermott x Reader) - Not started. I plan to write this in July. Childhood best friends reunite at their cabins in the summer after being separated for 5 years. But where will the summer lead them? Slow burn. Friends to lovers. Angst.  @mcmo-anon​, this is for you. 20-30k

Playing With Fire (TK x Reader) - A working title for an imagine of going camping with TK and Nolan and Nolan’s gf. Brought to you by the lovely @leeqianxiao​. 3-5k (this is the next thing i’m tackling because it is the shortest)

In Ways I Never Have (Tyson Barrie x Reader) - friends to lovers. 28 and no closer to love than you were in high school. Maybe it’s time to look at your back up plan. Currently at 9k but I haven’t touched it since October. I love it but I need to stick to it and finish the other half. 15-20k

The Lighthouse in the Storm (Morgan Rielly x Reader x William Nylander) - When your husband asks for a divorce, you didn’t think you would find love right where he was supposed to be. This one started as a way to deal with my feelings but I ended up sucked into other things and haven’t gone back because I know it will take a piece of me to finish. Currently at 3k. 10k of pure angst

More Than I Let On (Anthony Beauvillier x Reader) - a working title for a story of Tito falling for a female hockey player that I have not started yet. 10k

4 Times He Kissed You And The 1 Time You Kissed Him (Mitch Marner x Reader) - also not started... this was planned back in October too when I wrote a camping friends to lovers with him and just had all these ideas. 8-10k

5 Times His Friends Knew He Loved You And The 1 Time Mat Knew (Mat Barzal x Reader) - also not started. I just planned it out like two days ago and I know this one will get done but it’s still on the list. 12k ✅

No Judgement (Tyson Jost x Reader) - friends to lovers based off the song No Judgement by Niall Horan. 3k ✅

[mikkomacko]

A/n: There's not nearly enough dad Josty content on this app so here's this little piece. No idea what to name it but I hope y'all enjoy it!

Pairing: Tyson Jost x female reader

Warnings: none (mentions of the tr*de but other than that it's just fluff )

Tyson's flight arrives late. The first cold front of the season has moved in over the weekend, settled over Minnesota and casted everything in a bitter chill. The storm isn't bad enough to delay the flight but just enough to slow them down. The estimated arrival of 7 p.m. had fallen back to closer to midnight and any hope he had of spending time with his family tonight flew out the window. He knows the schedule, has it memorized and saved in his phone just in case. Bedtime was 8:30 sometimes 9 if the baby slept a lot that day. He missed that window by about three hours and has a feeling he'll be coming home to a dark, slumbering house tonight.

Even so he was anxious to get home, barely mumbling goodbyes to Duhaime and Boldy as he was gathering his suitcase and duffle before beelining towards his car. He's barely thrown on his seatbelt and turned on the heater before he's pulling out of his spot and hitting the mostly empty highway, beginning the unbearably long journey home (it's really not that far of a drive, maybe 30 minutes with traffic, but tonight it feels like he was moving at a snail's pace). His eye catches the car seat in the rearview mirror and he glances back behind his passenger seat to see the stuffed moose she loves laying on the seat. Pressing a little harder on the gas, he attempts to distract himself with the radio, finding the Christmas station and turning up the volume until it'll all he can hear. Halloween has just barely crept by and you may tease him for how quickly he moves into Christmas mode but he doesn't care. American Thanksgiving isn't something he really cares about (and really no one should care about it in the way they do) so he's unashamed in his holiday spirit.

He's only registered about a song and a half in his brain before he's pulling into the parking garage of the building, gaze searching the concrete complex for your vehicle. He finds it immediately, the faded Avs sticker on the back window sticking out like a sore thumb, and his parking spot empty besides yours.

Tyson wastes no time in pulling into the spot and shutting the engine off. He ignores the bags in the back as he collects his wallet and keys, hastily climbing out of the vehicle and beelining for the elevator. He barely has the sense to lock the car over his shoulder as he impatiently taps at the up button. And he's just as impatient when the doors open, Tyson stepping in and immediately pressing the button for the penthouse.

Counting the dinging floors in his head, Tyson taps the toe of his shoe as the elevator climbs up and up, bringing him to you. When the doors finally open he's greeted with the dark green front door of your place, welcome mat beckoning him closer.

~

"You decorated." He murmurs into your lips, smiling.

"You decorated." He murmurs into your lips, smiling.

"You decorated." He murmurs into your lips, smiling.

"Yeah. Figured you'd like it."

He nods and momentarily kisses you again. "I do. Know I love Christmas."

"Considerate it a gift for that fight of yours."

He pulls back to get a better look at your face, notices the teasing smile on your lips and quirks a curious eyebrow.

"Ya liked that, eh?"

You bite your bottom lip and giggle quietly, dropping your hands to rest on his shoulders. "Loved it. You should fight assholes more often."

He laughs then too, but shrugs as if it were no big deal. "Making the world a better place for my daughter one Blackhawk at a time."

Just as he expected, you laugh a bit louder at that and he finds himself reaching up to caress your smiling face for just a moment.

"Edmonton next maybe?"

He wants to laugh at your rebuttal but his loyalty to his childhood team weighs heavier so he pouts instead and joking whines, "Hey...."

You cut him off with a kiss to his cheek, stroking the side of his neck lovingly and watching the way his eyes flutter shut for a beat. As soon as he meets your gaze again, you nudge your head towards the other side of the couch.

"Your muse is patiently awaiting her glove dropping daddy."

Tyson perks up even more at that, already looking over your shoulder to the playpen he had set up before he left. "She's up?"

"No," You say sweetly, running your thumb over his jaw, before stepping back and removing your hands from him "but you can wake her if you promise to get her back to sleep."

He doesn't hesitate to nudge you to the side so he can cut across the living room, stepping over the extra Christmas blankets and pillows you've left on the floor. He reaches the play pen, a smile taking over his face as he peers down at his sleeping baby. She's bundled in the sleep sack Tyson's mom gifted them, the fabric fisted in one of her tiny hands while she drools on the other.

He almost feels bad for wanting to wake her, to see those big brown eyes she'd stolen from him and kiss the little button nose that matches yours, but it's been so long since he's seen her and he thinks he's starting to forgot what it felt like to have her curled into his chest. Eager but gentle, Tyson reaches down and slips a hand under her bottom and head, carefully bringing her up into his arms.

"Hi sweet girl," he whispers, wincing when her face scrunches up for a moment. He's waiting for a cry to erupt from her but she just settles into the crook of his elbow, nosing her face into the fabric of his sweatshirt. "Oh look at you."

He turns to find you admiring them with a watery smile, eyes shining in the twinkling Christmas lights with tears you've had a hard time stopping ever since you were pregnant. Despite how emotional you've become, he doesn't worry because he can read it all over your face that they're happy tears, probably even relieved tears. He knew how nervous you were for his first long road trip, the both of you so used to being side-by-side and he's sure that the weight he felt lift off of him earlier has now left you too.

"Come here," he murmurs to you, outstretching his left arm and wiggling his fingers. You let him pull you into his chest too, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and laying your head on his shoulder. Like the baby girl snoring in his arm, you burrow into his sweater, your nose slipping under the bunched fabric of his hood. He can't help but smile.

"You did it babe," he soothes, tickling his fingers down your spine. "This parenting thing is working out pretty good, eh?"

He feels you nod, pulling you in tighter just to remind you that he's always got you, and you return the sentiment by slipping your fingers under his hoodie and shirt, warm fingers ghosting over the soft skin of his back.

"Its good to know we can survive your away games," you whisper, titling your head down to admire your daughter. "but we prefer when you're here."

He laughs a bit, feels his chest swell up with pride and somehow pulls you even closer when you look up and steal a kiss from his lips.

Tyson hums his agreement. "Me too baby. Missed my girls so much."

He's lost in you for a moment or two, taking in the warmth of your gaze and the smell of your honey perfume. You've got purple bags under your eyes, you're smile lazy at the corners but even when the obvious exhaustion on your features you look happy and he can't think of a better look on you. He likes when you're happy, in general, but especially when you're with him.

Leaning in, Tyson butts his nose against yours before pressing a delicate kiss to your cheekbone. That smile he loves so much grows, you're eyes fluttering shut and he inches closer to your lips-

A tiny hands tugs at the string in his hoodie, yanking until the collar tightens uncomfortably around his neck and his hood sits at an awkward angle on his shoulders. You laugh softly as a loud cry breaks out, demanding his attention, and he reluctantly let's you take a step back.

"Oh no dad," you tease, poking at his side "someone's not happy with you."

He huffs out a laugh, moving the baby so she's sitting up against his shoulder. Patting at her back, Tyson begins to walk her in circles around the living room as you disappear into the kitchen. Her cries quickly quiet to sniffles, little hiccups echoing in his ear and he presses a kiss to the side of her head, smiling at how soft her thin brown hair is and how long it's gotten in his short time away.

"Don't be mad at me sweetheart," he pleads "I just missed you so much."

She turns to him, entrapped by the sound of his voice. Her cheeks and nose are red and moist, mouth puckered into a frown but those big brown eyes look at him with awe, the way they always have. From the moment she was born she knew his voice, familiar with it after countless nights of him telling her silly little stories and game summaries through whatever oversized t-shirt you'd stolen from him as a substitute for your maternity clothes. He smiles at her, hooks the sleeve of his hoodie over his fingers and wipes away the mess of tears and dribble on her little face.

"There she is!" He coos, booping her nose "ya miss me too, eh? Watch my games with momma? Bet you helped her put up all these lights too huh?"

She kicks her legs into his side, the frown on her face melting away as she hangs on his every word. Afraid she'll begin wailing again if he stops, Tyson keeps babbling nonsense to her.

"The boys kept asking for you. Want me to take you practice in a couple days but I don't think I want to share my special girl. Plus momma won't let you wear Minny colors and they'll try and put you in a jersey I just know it-"

"You keep my baby far away from Dewey and those other crazies," you say upon returning to the living room, a bottle of warmed breast milk in hand "They're gonna try and convince her Marcus is the moose and I won't have that."

Tyson laughs, knowing if he really wanted to take her to practice you'd allow it and you'd even let her wear the #10 onesie Jared had gifted her after the trade. As if agreeing with you, she babbles happily and he wonders if she's just excited to see her baba or if she recognizes the nickname of her favorite uncle Mikko.

You hand him the bottle, kissing his cheek and then hers before returning to sorting through Christmas boxes. Tyson settles into the empty spot on the couch, cradling her in the crook of his elbow again.

"Ladies sticking together I see," he tells her, chuckling when he brings the bottle to her lips and she eagerly grabs at it. She hasn't quite got the hang of holding it herself, but she loves fidgeting with his fingers as he feeds her, stroking over his knuckles and pinching at the back of his hand.

"That's good," he continues "Momma needs all the backup she can get. Me and your uncles are a bit of a handful."

He looks up when you laugh, watching you work to untangle a ball of multicolored lights. "A bit? I'm just thankful I'm not surrounded by another boy."

He grins. "Yet."

You raise an eyebrow at him, lips pursed in amusement for a second before shrugging. "No boys yet."

"But soon," he presses "right?"

He adjusts his grip on the bottle, still grinning innocently as you roll your eyes but nod.

"Soon."

He waits a beat, let's your attention go back to the mess of lights in your lap before continuing.

"Like tomorrow maybe?"

"Don't push it Jost." You warn.

"What if I put it on my Christmas list?"

"You're a grown man and a father, you don't get a Christmas list."

"Fine. For my winter solstice wish then."

He chuckles at the look on your face, a bit annoyed but more amused.

"Keep bugging and it'll get left off your birthday list too Tyson."

He pouts dramatically, waits for you to peer up at him through your eyelashes before flashing his best puppy dog eyes at you. You drop your left eye into a wink, teasingly and he feels heat rush to his cheeks.

God he's glad to be home.

[mikkomacko]

Everything Comes Back To You

~

Pairing: Tyson Jost x female reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Tyson's been in love with his roommate forever. And he knows you love him too. Now it's just a matter of saying it.

A/n: Not sure how much I like this but I think it's got potential lol. Might add another part if y'all enjoy it so let me know. Happy reading!

~

Tyson's jealous and bitter as he slips into the apartment, setting his bag on the floor by his feet before quietly shutting the door and locking it. He shouldn't be, he knows that. He should be basking in the excitement of the 4-point night he had, the two back-to-back goals that lifted the team past the unstoppable goaltending of Sorokin. He felt that way earlier. Flying high as he changed out of his gear to head to the media table, proud and probably a bit too cocky as he answered questions and joked around with Cale. But after he'd showered and packed up his game day suit, he found himself dragging his feet back to the players parking lot, thinking about how Compher was probably showered and tucked into his bed by now.

And if the dead silent apartment is any indication, he was right. The living room and kitchen are still and quiet, the light above the stove poorly illuminating the large area and giving him just a peek into the dark hallway across from him. The door to Compher's room on the other side of the living room is shut and the crack under the door dark. Tyson wouldn't even be surprised if Comph had just tiptoed his way to his room before crashing into bed in his post game gear. Hell, he'll probably do the same.

He's just locked the front door and kicked off his slides when his stomach rumbles. For a moment he considers ignoring it and just going to bed, but he knows the ache of hunger will just keep him up anyway so he silently moves into the kitchen. The dishwasher hums quietly next to the fridge, drawing Tyson's attention to it just as he's reaching for the fridge handle. The only way there would be enough dishes to constitute using the dishwasher is if pots and pans were used.

Backtracking, he tugs open the microwave door instead, his entire chest warming when the yellow bulb illuminates a container of spaghetti and meatballs. He doesn't even try to fight off the crooked smile that slips onto his face as he grabs the still warm dish, shutting the microwave door with a nudge of his elbow as he simultaneously digs through the drawer next to the stove for a fork.

He's so grateful for you, grateful for the fact that you care enough about him to have a warm dinner waiting for him after a game, and he wants to run down the hallway, burst through your door and give you the biggest hug. But he's exhausted. And certain you're asleep. So instead he silently tip toes to his room, casts a quick glance at your door not even ten feet from his, and buries his urge to go twist the knob open.

He can wait until the morning.

~

At first, he thinks it's just in his head. The soft taps that rattle in his ears just enough to stir his brain awake. Then they sound again and he thinks it must be something hitting the bedroom window. Maybe rain since they're too high up for it to be a tree branch. Or maybe it's coming from the apartment below them. Tyson rolls to his back, huffing out a sigh as he knuckles at his tired eyes. The room remains silent save for the hum of the air conditioning, and he's just about to bury himself back under his sheets when he hears the creek of the hallway, just outside his bedroom door.

As if a bolt of lightning has just shot through him, he jolts up just in time to hear your bedroom door clicking shut. Through his foggy brain he realizes the taps were you and he's kicking off his blankets before he can even see clearly. Stumbling over the shirt on his floor, Tyson pulls open his door and peeks his head out. Your bedroom door is closed but the light that shines from underneath it confirms you are in fact awake.

He was right. You were knocking at his door. Or maybe you were just passing in front of it? Maybe he heard you getting water from the kitchen or something. Maybe you were checking to see if he ate when he got h-

Tyson shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut to wipe away the image of you slipping into the kitchen to look for his shoes by the door and his dishes in the sink, a pleased smile tugging at your lips because you know he's resting, happy and fed.

A frustrated groan rumbles in his chest because he's never going to get back to sleep if he doesn't know if you needed something from him or not. And he's most definitely going to be tossing and turning all night with the thought of you making that stupid pasta for him, concerned about him enough that you drug yourself out here to check.

He casts a glance over his shoulder at the clock on his dresser, sees the soft white 3:28 glowing and decides it is technically morning. The wood groans beneath his feet when he steps into the hallway, cold on his bare toes and he immediately wishes he'd pulled a pair of socks on before coming out here. Luckily he doesn't have much time to think about it before the hallway is being flooded with light, your silhouette now standing in your open doorway.

Tyson can't make out your face in the shadows, but he can see the burgundy shirt your wearing and his stomach flips. It's not at all rare for him to see you in Avalanche gear but every time it's his he feels as if he's just swallowed a hive of buzzing bees.

"Hey," he says, quiet and hoarse "you ok?"

He blinks a couple of times, let's his eyes adjust to the change in light until he can finally start to see the curve of your nose and the messy tangles of hair on the right side of your head.

"Y-yeah. Just couldn't sleep." Your voice is soft and tired, punctuated by a yawn, but by the way your lacing and unlacing your fingers in front of you, Tyson has the tingling suspicion that you've had a bad dream.

"Did I wake you?"

He shakes his head. "No," the lie slips out easily, mouth curling with amusement because of course you woke him, you were knocking on his door. But he doesn't want to make you feel bad or anything for it so he'll just keep his laughter to himself.

"Yeah I did," you correct through a chuckle, leaning your shoulder against the doorway and crossing your arms over your ribs. This time he does laugh, shrugging as if to say it's no biggie. And it really isn't because he hadn't seen you since he left after lunch for the game and he hates coming home from games to you already shut in your room.

"Yeah but you also made me dinner so I'm not upset."

He wishes he could see if your cheeks flood with color, if you bite at your bottom lip like you always do when he mentions your acts of kindness.

"You ate?" You question, and he thinks he hears a hint of relief in your tone. Those bees in his stomach buzz again, and in that brief second of silence he decides you must be made of honey. Warm, sweet, and impossible to fully lick off his fingers.

Leaning back against his own doorway, he nods. "Yeah, thanks. It was really good."

There's another beat of silence, Tyson wondering what's going through your head. Are you thinking of the meal you made for him? That maybe you shouldn't have or you should've made something different. Are you thinking about the fact that ever since he told you he loves pasta after a game, that's what you make him? And are you wondering if he's noticed?

"You don't have to thank me," you finally mumble, and if Tyson weren't so used to listening to the softness of your voice he might not have heard you. "just don't tell Comph because he didn't get any."

Tyson's chest blooms with warmth and flowers and every other good thing he could possibly imagine. He realized a long time ago that he probably shouldn't be so desperate to be your favorite roommate and that it could possibly bring him a lot of grief in the future, but he doesn't care. Fuck Compher and his stupid goldfish he insists is a roommate, because in your eyes it feels like it's just Tyson. He hopes it's always like that for you. That even when he's away or when you step out of the apartment without him, it's still him.

"Swear on my heart," he promises, index finger tracing an x over his left pec. He sees the faint glow of your smile, feels its heat bask over him.

"Does that mean a lot?"

"It means everything."

He hears the breath catch in your throat, sees your arms tighten around yourself and for a brief millisecond he regrets his honesty. But it passes as quickly as it came and satisfaction takes its place. He's been waiting too long to tell you that, to draw attention to the invisible string that seems to pull you two together always.

"You gonna tell me why you're up or are we going to stare at each other all night?"

You take a second to answer, lips pursed thoughtfully. "I had a bad dream."

He hums, gaze shifting over your form for any signs that you may not be okay, hoping to find a reason to reach out to you, hook his fingers under your elbow and draw you into him. It's too dark in the hallway and the little light coming from somewhere deep in your room doesn't help as it casts you in a dark shadow.

"I don't know. I thought maybe you'd be awake but you always sleep like the dead after you eat and you had a crazy game. I should-"

"Come sleep with me," he cuts in, halting any further rambling. Truth is, he can't bare to hear you talk about him anymore, not in that shy, high-school-crush way, because he might do something he'll regret. Or you'll regret.

"Tyson, no" You decline. "You're tired. You don't need to babysit me."

He scoffs, pushing himself off the doorway and taking half a step towards you. "This is purely for me sweetheart," the pet name melts off his tongue easily, as it always has with you. "I sleep better when I snuggle, you know that."

There's no hesitation, no moment in which he thinks you for some reason might turn him down. You never did before, always laying your head on his shoulder during movie nights or letting him settle his head in your lap when he has a headache. And it's not the first time he's shared a bed with you after countless nights of his sister coming to town and stealing his bed. You never wanted him to sleep on the couch and when it came down to picking between his snoring sister and your extra soft sheets, he chose you.

But this feels different. The air around him feels charged as you drop your arms from around your waist, tentatively stepping forward. He can't help but grin, reaching his left hand out towards you. It's like fireworks have gone off under his skin when your fingers touch, a burning heat rushing up his arms and to his chest, squeezing around his heart until he can feel it pounding in his throat. He guides you into his bedroom, pausing in the entryway to close the door behind you and flick the lock. Maybe it's bold of him, but he doesn't care for subtleties anymore so he finds the curve of your hip, let's his fingertips slip just under the band of your T-shirt before nudging you towards his bed.

As if you've done it a million times, you crawl into the right side of his bed, completely oblivious to the way you've just made his heart throb painfully in his throat and the pit of his stomach ache. Despite his agony, Tyson follows after you, settling into the spot he'd previously been sleeping on. He feels a bit awkward when he lays his head back on the pillow, unsure of what to do with arms, he worries they'll grow a mind of their own and reach out to you. He settles for shoving left hand under his thigh and his right behind his head, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling.

You shuffle around for a moment, adjusting the blankets and tugging them over your shoulder. Tyson looks over at you, the yellowish light from outside falling across half of your face as you lie facing him, cheek smashed into his pillow.

"It's nice in here," you state, eyes bright "so warm. I love it."

Tyson smiles, warm honey dripping into his chest and surrounding his heart. "S'hot in here," he replies "usually sleep with the window open but I fell asleep before I remembered to."

"Good pasta will do that to ya." You say teasingly and he startles when your cold foot nudges his calf. Without even thinking he's rolling to his side, holding himself up on his elbow as he drags the extra blanket at the bottom of the bed up to cover you.

"Jesus Christ you're like an icicle under there." He mutters, ignoring the way your eyes are burning into the side of his face as he continues to adjust the blanket. He's not really sure why he always kept that throw on his bed since he's never needed it but he's gonna credit it to the universe setting him up for this moment.

"There," he states, knuckles brushing your jaw when he tucks the blankets under your chin. Your skin is soft and bit sticky with that moisturizer you put on before bed, and he traces a gentle line up the curve of your cheek until he's holding your face in his palm, fingers buried in your soft hair.

"Why do you have to make this so hard?"

His first reaction is to chuckle like a stupid school boy and say that's what she said but the logical part of his brain (and his beat up heart) recognize this as the moment he can change everything. He's been here with you before, on the edge of letting himself have everything he's ever wanted, and he always finds a way to back out and settle back into his role of your roommate. But he doesn't have to do that again. Maybe he's still riding the high of tonight's game but that doesn't matter because this is his chance to capitalize. He's been dangling the puck for far too long now and he knows he's going to eventually run out of room to shoot.

"M'not trying to," he responds, brushing his thumb over the little acne scar he knows sits just to the right of your nose. "just can't help myself sometimes."

Finally, he pulls his gaze from where his hand holds you, meeting your breathtakingly beautiful eyes. They pull him in with nothing but longing and love, the way you've always looked at him, and the knots in his stomach tighten. He had been avoiding your gaze for that reason, knowing that if he let himself see you he'd be unable to chicken out. Because how could he when he knows you want him just as much, when it's so blatantly obvious in the way you look at him?

"You can let yourself have good things Tys," you whisper earnestly "I think you realized that tonight. The only thing holding you back is yourself."

Your words hit him like a check into the boards, hard and heavy on his chest and a little bit numbing to his legs. He knows your right. He has a habit of letting his doubts keep him from being happy, of convincing him that he hasn't earned the things he wants. It's not something he realized you've picked up on but he supposes watching him play all these years, both on the ice and with your friendship, that you've become well acquainted with his flaws.

"It's scary," he finally says, the words barely a whisper. "I don't want to get everything I've dreamed of and then lose it."

"I'm scared too."

The breath you'd previously stolen from him suddenly fills his lungs again, inflates his whole being and while he's still got the cold chill of fear dripping down his spine, he finds something in you to keep it at bay. "Yeah?"

"Of course," you assure "but you'll never get the things you want if you let your fears stop you."

He knows what you're saying, can read it like a flashing neon sign. You've got an open net Jost, just take the shot.

"I love you," he says, lips curling when he notices the twinkle of relief in your eyes. "I've always loved you y/n. You know that."

You giggle-well more squeal than giggle, shoving the blankets back so you can free your arms, and he can't see them but he feels you kicking your legs around under the sheets. He laughs at that, digging his fingers deeper into the roots of your hair to draw your face closer to him and kisses you. It's more smiling than kissing, teeth awkwardly bumping but it's all worth it to finally feel your lips on his.

One of your cold hands finds his side, resting in the curve of his abdomen for a moment before sliding to rest on his back. You pull him towards you then, nipping softly at his bottom lip and rolling to your back. He follows swiftly, heat rushing from his head down to his toes as he shoves a knee between your thighs and props himself up on his elbows.

You're left hand finds your right one, soft fingertips pressing into the dip of his back. You hold him like he's made of silk, smooth and precious to touch but stronger than most and he thinks that must be intentional. You're one of the few in his life that's complimented him for being an optimist, for always keeping his head up. He's not surprised that you somehow find a way to reiterate that admiration to him with just your hands.

"I love you too you know," you murmur after pulling back for a breath of air. "since like the moment I first met you I think."

He doesn't doubt you because he's certain he's loved you since then too, but he's in the mood to have his ego stroked a little more tonight, especially by you. Ghosting his lips over yours before pulling back, he smirks when your mouth chases after his.

"Yeah?" He urges, chills running up his spine when you trace your fingers up each vertebrae, sinking them into the roots of curly hair on the base of his neck.

You laugh a bit shyly. "I just couldn't stop looking at you and I swore Compher was going to call me a weirdo or something but every time you bragged about your stupid ukulele I thought 'he's just so cute.'"

His heart swoons, fluttering around in his chest and he can't believe he's let himself wait this long to kiss you. Any girl that finds his music skills attractive is the girl for him because he knows he's truly awful. He can't sing for the life of him, even though he tries, and his ukulele is more plucking at random strings and hoping it sounds ok.

"Don't think Comph even noticed with the way I was all over you." Tyson laughs, ignoring the way his biceps have started to ache from holding himself over you. "Told me afterwards that I was practically buzzing every time you laughed."

Your smile widens, eyes dancing between his as you giggle that same little laugh that made him fall in love all those years ago. "You were funny," you say. "You are funny. I love your dumb jokes."

As much as he doesn't want to, Tyson needs to move before his arms fall off but he takes the moment to kiss you again, short and sweet but enough for now. He shuffles a bit, gets his right hand up to brush your hair away from your face and he presses another kiss to your temple as he settles back on his side of the bed, this time on his side so he can still look at you.

You do the same, pulling the blankets back up to your chin as you smile at him. He can practically feel your body vibrating, eyes staring at him expectantly and he chuckles before sliding his hand across the bed in search of your hip.

"Come here you." He teases, and you quietly laugh as you scoot into his chest, head lying on his bare arm. It's silent after that, a bubble of peace and content wrapping around you both as you lay there together. Tyson's eyes trace over your face, soaking in every feature as he's done numerous times before but this time it's different. This time he's admiring the beauty of his girl, not his roommate or his friend anymore. It hits him hard in the chest again, this time in a good way. He wonders if you're doing the same as you wiggle a hand out to hold his jaw, stroking the soft spot of his beard just to the right of his chin.

Tyson can feel himself starting to doze off, eyes growing heavy and muscles relaxing into the mattress. You must feel the same because a yawn stretches your mouth and you burying it into the fluff of his comforter as if trying to hide it from him. He smiles a lazy and crooked grin, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

"Thanks for knocking on my door."

You grin shyly. "Thanks for coming to check on me." You snuggle in closer to him, throwing a leg over his and he gladly wraps you up in his chest as he rolls to his back, your weight heavy and comforting on top of him. He can't see your face like this but he doesn't mind. He'll see you in the morning, hopefully with more kisses and laughter.

"You still gonna love me in the morning Josty?"

He squeezes you tight, nodding without hesitation.

"Of course. I'll always love you."

A beat of silence passes. "Even when Compher comes barging in here at 6 am to ask you if you want to get breakfast."

Tyson laughs, dreading the fact that he knows Compher will be the one to wake you two up. But he was way ahead of the game, knowing that no matter what happened tonight he wasn't going to let his best friend steal his time with you.

"I locked the door so the most he'll do is knock," Tyson whispers, stroking his fingers up and down your back. "Probably leave after that and of course I'll get up and follow after him, ask him if he maybe wants to have a sleepover and I'll inevitably declare my love to him."

You giggle sleepily, and he can imagine your beautiful smile as you fight to keep your eyes open. "Well this was fun while it lasted."

Tyson shakes his head in amusement, finally letting his eyes shut as he buries his nose in your hair. "I'm not done with you yet," he murmurs. "Compher will just have to wait."

As if agreeing with him you press a lazy kiss to his chest, your arm wrapping around his waist and he can feel you relax as you start to slip into sleep. He doesn't know what will happen in the morning when it comes to the other roommate but he knows it doesn't matter because he's finally got you.

After everything, you're his and he's yours.

[mikkomacko]

Make You Feel at Home

Pairing: Tyson Jost x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, cursing

~

It was a feeling akin to that of returning home. Like crawling into your bed for the first time after countless nights on a stiff hotel mattress. Like breathing in the scent of your favorite candle. Or a home cooked meal after eating out too many times. It was just... warm and enveloping. You'd almost forgotten what it was like to have him next to you, to smell nothing but the shea butter of his shampoo and the fresh scent of his deodorant. His hands are still rough from a long season of taping sticks, tying skates, and all that puck handling that's made them strong, but it's a welcomed scratch that makes your neck and cheeks tingle. Or maybe that's his beard that he's yet to shave or trim since the early exit of round one. It scrapes your jaw when he presses a hot kiss behind your ear, tickles your upper lip when he trails those stupidly perfect lips to yours and slots your mouths together. And your face flushes when he pulls back just enough to catch his breath, ghosting pecks to your cheeks while you both giggle quietly and breathless.

You're well aware of the bedroom downstairs, not directly under his but only two slots over. Directly under the room your biggest concern is sleeping in. Tyson's playoff run in Minnesota had fallen on the same dates of your finals, leaving you stuck back home in Denver and him in Minneapolis, still separated after months of being a Wild. It wasn't ideal to have your reunion at his mother's house back in Alberta, her and Tyson's sister both home and working for the summer. But it was the first opportunity you've had to see him since March and you didn't care who'd be around when you finally got to see those big brown eyes of his and hear that adorably loud laugh of his. You did however, care about the ache in the pit of your stomach and the way the bulge in his sweatpants was making you really not care about the other two ladies in the house. Because you should care. This is his mother's house and she's finally letting you two share a room after numerous visits of him taking the couch down stairs or you stealing the floor of Kacey's room. You shouldn't be all too eager to forgo the anxieties and fears of being caught or heard by his family.

It's hard to think about it though when he's got you perched on his lap, mouth eager and familiar as he kisses every inch of skin he can reach. You thought he'd be dejected or disappointed after the ending of his season, especially with his former team still playing not too far from you two in a couple days but he'd been all smiles and kisses since he picked you up from your late flight in, wrapping you up in strong arms and dancing the two of you in a circle on the sidewalk outside arrivals. You suppose he just missed you too much to be concerned with anything else. The same way he's not phased as he drops a hand down your spine, fingers slipping into the band of your sweats to grope at your ass.

"Tys..." you warn half-heartedly through a whisper, mouth tingling from the little nip he took at your bottom lip. He hums distractedly, already moving to latch onto the side of your neck, nosing his way deeper into your skin like he's trying to find a way to permanently fuse you two together. Your cautions get lost when he uses the flesh of your ass to nudge you further into his lap, your eyes catching a glimpse of the old Oilers jersey hanging behind the bed as you tip your head further back. A shocked gasp jumps from your throat when you feel how hard he is, when you're reminded of just how long it's been since you felt him between your thighs.

"Ya miss me?" He asks for the thousandth time that night but this time his hand goes searching for the answer, moving around your hip and dragging your pants down just far enough for his fingers find the wet crotch of your underwear. You don't even have to answer because he's pulling away to look at your face, resting back on the headboard and pressing his thumb to your throbbing clit. The way you tremble and buck into his hand is enough, your cheeks burning when he laughs huskily. But Tyson's a pest and he wants more than just the reaction of your body. He flexes his thigh, jostling you in his lap and drops his thumb down to tease at your entrance.

"Huh babe?" He coaxes, voice deep and throaty. You hate that he can feel your thighs clenching at the sound of his voice. "Come on, tell me."

Your gaze falls to his face, swollen red lips smiling teasingly and a pink blush dusting his cheekbones and forehead. You can't help but reach for his hair, left hand pressing into his chest while you tangle your fingers in his damp curls.

He raises an eyebrow, lips pursing to hide his amusement when you flash a dopey smile at him. "I missed you so much Tyson."

Pleased, he finally let's a lopsided grin light up his face, the twinkle in his dark eyes growing brighter when he presses his thumb even further into your entrance and feels the way your whole body tightens up.

"Feels like it," he comments, not wasting a second "should take these off before you ruin them, yeah? Making a mess already."

You're certain he's no better than you, the fabric of his boxers probably drenched from how long he's had you draped over his thighs. You could tease him but it's funner to show him so you too slip your hand into his sweats and boxers, tingling fingers wrapping around the tip of his cock. Tyson practically leaps off the bed, a choked gasp struggling to leave his chest as you get a feel for how hot his skin is, how much pre cum has smeared into his boxers and thigh.

"Missed me too?"

He laughs, the shock of your hand gripping him still bleeding into it but he nods, smiling cheekily. "Missed you every day. Got a little tired of my own hand too." His grin grows when you roll your eyes, releasing him to instead pull at the band of his pants.

"Gonna have to get up if you want those off babe."

Tyson is still grinning when you shove his hand away from your core, planting your feet to the mattress besides his thighs and attempting to stand up. In your hastiness to get him naked you seem to have forgotten your own pair of sweatpants halfway down your thighs and you're tripping over his legs before you can even realize. He seems to catch it, instinctively reaching for your hips and he softens the blow you take to the fluffy duvet of his childhood bed. But his foot manages to find the backpack you'd thrown on the edge of the bed and it goes tumbling to the carpet with a soft thud that shakes the old Bauer sticks propped up against the wall. Luckily the scrape of them sliding against the wall and into the corner isn't enough to wake his mother downstairs but you're not so sure about his sister.

He may be beautiful and funny and athletic and as close to perfect as it comes but he's also incapable of ever being inconspicuous, and rather than quietly help you slide your pants up Tyson decides to fling himself on top of you, shielding your partial nudity by shoving his weight between your thighs. You can't help but laugh, you're cheeks warming when his eyes crinkle and he bites back a laugh of his own.

"Would you be quiet?" He hisses playfully, cupping a hand over your mouth. You swat his hand away, your giggle silenced when he moves to cup your cheek and press his mouth to yours again. You melt into the mattress as much as you can with his knees under yours and your sweats still awkwardly binding your thighs, gripping the back of his neck with a pleased sigh.

After a moment he pulls back, tongue swiping over his lips and tilting his head towards the closed bedroom door. "I think we're good."

"Then get me undressed already Jost."

Hands hook under your arms, tugging you up the bed until your head hits the pillows and you're reminded of how athletic Tyson is, how he spends his entire life dedicated to a game you can't even begin to imagine playing once let alone everyday. It makes arousal pool in your stomach, the ache in your core throbbing as he tugs his shirt over his head, the stumbling and clumsiness from before now gone. You drink in the sight of his naked torso, how full and broad he still looks. The dusting of hair across his chest, less noticeable than before now that he's beginning to pick up his summer tan.

Strong, cut biceps lead to thick forearms and big hands that haphazardly toss the shirt off to the side. Your teeth catch your lip as you watch those fingers then grip your knees, squeezing just once before trailing up for the exposed band of your underwear. His teasing from earlier must be forgotten because he's quick to tug both layers of clothing off, dodging your awkward limbs as your neediness attempts to help.

"Look at us," he murmurs thoughtfully, hands once again finding your bare thighs as he leans into you "together we make up one naked person and one dressed person."

The snort that leaves your throat has him laughing, strong biceps moving to cage you in before he nudges his nose with yours, pecking your smiling lips.

"Stop messing around and get those pants off before I get violent."

"Don't threaten me." He rebuttals, but he's pushing himself back up to his knees and then off the bed, hooking his thumbs into his sweatpants. You take the free range of movement to tug your shirt off, then the sports bra you'd worn for comfort on your flight today. You expect a whine from Tyson, a complaint about how he "wanted to do that part" but nothing is spoken before he's crowding on top of you again.

You tangle your hands in his hair, tugging his face down to yours and pressing your lips together. Tyson moans deep in his chest, the sound morphing into something of pain when a hand moves between your thighs and his fingers immediately find your soaked folds.

The jolt that rushes through your veins has you gasping, legs hooking around his muscular thighs and he chuckles lowly before sinking a finger into you. Tyson's slow with his movements, dragging the pad of his finger over the sensitive spot that makes your toes curl. His thumb teases your clit, soft lazy brushes that have you scratching at his shoulder, desperate for him after so long apart.

"God I don't even have to get you ready, do I?" Tyson questions in disbelief, chin tilted down so he can watch his finger easily pump in and out. Maybe you should be embarrassed by how wet you are, how your thighs even feel slick and he's barely touched you but you're not. This is Tyson after all, the man you love more than anything in the world, the man that you'd gone from waking up next to every morning to not seeing for months. You have nothing to be shy about, especially not when you can feel the head of his cock heavy on your hip, leaking and wet. He's just as desperate as you.

"No, so hurry up." You jokingly command, a smile rising to your face when he looks up at you, dark and lusty eyes drinking you in like he never wants to see anything else ever again. His mouth finds yours again, swallowing up the whine of protest that tries to escape you when his touch disappears from between your thighs in favor of gripping his hard cock.

It's your turn to soak up the pleasured groan that leaves him as he strokes himself a couple times, using the wetness from your core to prep himself. Silence falls between the two of you, Tyson pulling back to watch himself settle between your thighs again. You attach to his neck and jaw, nipping softly at his flushed skin and eagerly tilting your hips towards him. That feeling of home hits you once again when he guides the swollen tip of his cock between your folds, a hand hooking around your hip as he lets himself sink into you, fall into you as if he too feels like he's just found his missing piece.

It's more this time though. It's like that feeling has swelled inside you, blown up like a balloon and molded itself to fit into all the empty spaces of your body to make you whole. From the tips of your toes to the crown of your head, you feel like you're boiling, burning up from the love between you. And it doesn't help that Tyson's cock is nudging that spot inside you, rubbing you in all the right ways. Your aching core feels raw, overly sensitive as he pulls back just enough to rut further into you with a grunt.

"Fuck me sweetheart," Tyson practically whines, pressing a sloppy kiss below your ear. You hum in agreement, unable to form your words as your body overflows with pleasure. He does it again, draws his hips back, inhales deeply and breathes it out into the skin of your neck when he thrusts forward, a bit harsher this time. As if a switch flipped between the two of you, Tyson falls into that pace, quick and strong pushes of his hips that have you clawing at his back, clinging to any bit of damp skin you can reach. It's like he can't physically get close enough. You're desperate for more, desperate for him to sedate the burning pit in your core. You move a leg further up his thigh, moaning softly when he takes the chance to grip your thigh tighter and spread your hips more. It burns, but in the best way and he seems to notice that.

"That's it's baby," he compliments, fucking into you. "opening up so well for me." His praise has your toes curling, pussy clenching around him as you bite back another appreciative moan. Maybe Tyson should tone down how vocal he is but you know better than most how hard it is to get him to shut up. And your not exactly in the right mind to stop him and tell him to shush. Especially not when he drops a thumb back to your clit, circling it a couple times to feel you squeeze around his cock again. Then he's dragging the pad of it down to where he's disappeared into you, halting his thrusts to wiggle his thumb in alongside his dick, making it slippery with the mixture of you two.

"Josty..." You whimper impatiently, the coil in your stomach knotting painfully. You need him to move, need to feel his cock pressing that spot inside of you over and over again until your crying for him to stop. Tyson grumbles in disapproval, biting at the vein on your neck and dragging his thumb back up to your clit.

"Say my real name," he requests sternly "m'not Josty to you. Not when I've got you whining on my dick like this."

Desperate for him to just fuck you again, you concede. "Tyson, Tys please need you-"

"Good girl," he interrupts, punctuating his words with a circle of his thumb that has you seizing up. He picks up his pace again, a little softer this time as he lifts his head up in favor of watching you. The hand that lay by your head brushes your hair off your sweaty forehead, cupping your face as he fucks into you, his thrusts matching the flicks of your clit.

You try to watch him, to meet his hooded gaze but he's got your body buzzing from head to toe and you can't help but let your eyes fall shut, soaking in the way Tyson is bringing you up and up and up...

"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, thumb tracing your bottom lip as you pant heavily. He switches up the pattern of circles, your body winding up tighter, even closer to that peak. "you gonna come for me? Gonna make a mess on my cock? Been waiting for it sweetheart."

His thumbs falls into your mouth, pressing into the dip of your tongue. You try to moan, try to breath but he pushes back just enough to have you struggling for air and that's your undoing. The coil snaps, your mind going blank as you come, pulsing and squeezing around Tyson's cock. He carries you through it, still fucking into you and tapping away at your clit. His thumb let's up, allows you to suck in air as your thighs tremble and you dig your nails into his back. Through the haze of your pleasure you feel his cock twitch, recognize the stutter of his hips and you wrap your lips around his thumb as that first rope of come spurts inside of you.

"Fuck, you're so good. That's so good." He grunts out, more curses falling from his lips as you suck and nip at his finger. Still foggy and sluggish from your own orgasm, you lazily roll your hips up, milking him for all he's got. His arms grow tired, hand moving from your clit to catch himself on the mattress as his full weight falls into you. You let his finger slip from your mouth, instead finding the exposed side of his neck and jaw, pressing sloppy kisses wherever you can as he tries to breathe through his come down.

When he's finally caught his breath he laughs, a giddy little chuckle that tickles at your neck and shoulder. You can feel his smile as he kisses across your chest, your own lips curling into a grin.

"What's so funny?"

He kisses your chin, then your smiling mouth. "Never fucked a girl in this bed. If ten year old me knew what was coming..."

You snort, your leg falling back to the mattress as you kiss him again. "Imagine if he knew that you're about to go fuck me in the shower now."

Tyson gapes, eyes shining with interest and he smirks. "Oh yeah? And what about his sister that's asleep down the hall?"

"He managed to keep quiet enough so far. I think he could do it again." You stroke over his beard, eyes falling to his swollen lips. "If not maybe he can find something to occupy that mouth with."

The groan that leaves him is pained, his dick twitching in your sensitive walls but he doesn't sound too torn up when he kisses you again, teasingly dipping his tongue into your mouth.

"Yeah we can make that happen. Anything to make you feel at home baby.” 

Little did he know that you always felt at home with him. But you’re not about to turn down or deter an eager-to-please Tyson Jost.