#shirtless tyson jost | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flashyfucker · 3 years ago

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longshot | tyson jost ✷

MY MASTERLIST / talk 2 me! :) summary: on a night in bed, you match with your best friend’s teammate on tinder. it’s real convenient that he happens to be crashing on your friend’s couch. tyson jost x fem reader. word count: 5.2k SORRY warnings: smut with feelings (this is a bardownbitch production, obviously.) degrading but like as a joke kinda? it’s a super sarcastic relationship but she gets a lil turned on by it lol. alcohol mentions. dedicated to bffs @97soroka and @toplinetommy! ty for the endless inspo!! xxxx

His first picture should’ve been a red flag.

Not the stomach-turning shirtless, mid-pump gym selfie kind of red, but the heart-squeezing brunch with mom, ask the waiter to take a photo kind of red– a shade that wouldn’t be red at all, on any other night, if it were anyone else’s tinder profile.

Alas, Tyson’s name stares at you, makes your mouth feel dry. Tyson’s cute ass photo with his mom and his brunch and his bouncy curls stares up at the dark ceiling after you drop your phone to the bed, your face buried in your hands, assessing the situation, feeling like you’ve been caught, somehow.

The faint text reading less than a mile away feels all too real when he’s right down the hall.

As you grope the bed to find your phone, you have half a panicky idea to screenshot the profile and send it to your friends in a flurry of “oh my god what the fuck look at this” and “lol should I swipe?”.

When Mikko pops up in the big group chat, a chaotic little part of you wants to send the screenshots their way, tack on a “Josty’s on the hunt” message and watch your extended circle flame his profile.

You think better of it, though— knowing how this looks (how it is, really). Curled up in JT’s guest room after movie night, after almost everyone else’s gone home, swiping tinder at something-past-eleven. It’s not subtle, and you doubt your frustration will be helped by your friends cawing about it in the group chat, so you shut up and hold your breath before tapping through to Tyson’s next photos.

You’re hit immediately with an obscene amount of thigh and bicep in a gratuitous wakesurfing shot, and the low hum from the space heater in the corner fills your ears as you groan almost silently into your fist, rolling your eyes because why does he have to look like that? And, shit, since when does he make this little ache bloom between your thighs? Your shaky fingers grip your phone a little tighter, letting your head sink deep between two pillows, like shielding half your face will make this any better.

The next photo is from a few months back, taken at the party where JT had first introduced you to his friends after you’d moved out from Illinois. You were still a little reserved around the boys, so you and the girls huddled and Tyson had approached you periodically, gradually tipsier but charm never wavering, to make sure you were good, top up your drinks, ask if you needed an uber (or a shot).

It’s not until now, tapping through his fucking tinder profile, that you realise just how sweet that’d been of him, watching out for the new girl for nothing in return. And it’s not until now, staring at a photo where he and the boys are shirtless, fake flexing in sunglasses at nighttime, camera flash exaggerating the ridiculous contours of his body, that you realise, shit, maybe you’ve got… a thing… for Josty.

JT’s presence in the photo right beside Tyson churns your stomach. You grew up with his little sister, and in the absence of an older brother of your own, JT was what you wound up with. Scanning the picture, its familiar background, you vaguely remember the variations JT spits when introducing you– “my sister’s sister” and “basically my sister”, and you know what they’re meant to imply, when he says them to his friends, but as you stare at Tyson’s tinder profile, of all things, you meekly hope Tyson hasn’t taken those dumb implications to heart.

Tyson’s last photo makes you scoff, the pixelly mid-celly action shot, avalanche logo proud on his chest, a little flex buried behind a stack of largely unassuming photos. Once the feeling of ugh, obviously he had to include that has rolled through you, you find yourself smiling a little, endeared by it— sorta proud. And fuck, yeah, maybe the way your heart squeezed at that first photo was a red flag, flailing at half-mast, a harbinger of a crush you hadn’t really known you harboured.

It takes a full five minutes of restless back and forth in your head, deciding you’ll play it off as a joke on the off chance you match, and looking away from your phone while you do it, to finally swipe right.

You heave a choke, eyes bulging, as the It’s a Match! graphic fills the screen immediately. Snapping up in bed, you lock your phone as though that’ll make what’s just happened un-happen, waiting, frozen in the dark, for something. Like he’s going to yell down the hall from where he’s meant to be sleeping in the living room, or something.

Your head swims with thoughts of oh, this is a joke, and we both swiped right because we know each other, no other reason, trying to rationalise it, knowing, somewhere in your head, that it’s not as big a deal as it feels, with the way your heart is pumping. You know you’ll laugh about it while playing never have I ever at some party down the line, maybe. Still, you wince when your phone vibrates against your leg, once, twice.

What are u wearing rn baby? Jk. come hang

You want to scream-laugh and bury yourself under the covers and most of all, pretend you hadn’t seen the messages. Pretend he hadn’t messaged mere moments after you’d swiped, so you could pretend you were sleeping. Climb out the window? JT lives on the tenth floor. Fuck JT’s nice ass apartment. You’d known this could happen, but you’d kinda assumed it wouldn’t. That he’d swipe left if he found you (better still, roast you in the group chat like you’d wanted to do to him. He’s too nice for that, though. Of course he is.).

You hold your breath as you slip out of the room, pulling up the door handle to silence its latch as you close it slowly— and you hold your breath as you shuffle down the dark hall as though the press of your socks to the hardwood could possibly rouse JT through the walls.

As you breach the light blanketing from the floor lamp in the far corner, Tyson twists on the couch to greet you, smug little smile on his face as he throws his arms out, says “Welcome to our first date.” without a lick of sarcasm, and you scoff a laugh, easy.

The tension you’d fabricated is drained away, seeing him all smiley in a dense nest of blankets and pillows like this.

“Damn. No candles? Romantic music?” You let your eyes dart around the room comically, assessing the night’s damage: the packages leftover from midseason cheat snacks, the deck of cards strewn over the table.

“It was a last-minute thing. I have popcorn, though.”

Tyson leans to lift the bowl on the coffee table, shaking the long-cold kernels about noisily, cracking the swell of silence which fills the room behind the clipped volume of your voices, and you shhh him aggressively, pointing towards the shadowy hallway, JT’s room.

“He can hang with us.” He rolls his eyes, working at you like a little kid, as though getting under your skin is going to impress you, somehow– and you suppose that’s always been the nature of your relationship: play fighting, pulling pigtails. It just feels charged, now. You snatch the bowl from Tyson’s hand, watch his smirk drop, satisfied.

“Now JT’s invited on our date?” You gasp, feigning offence, glancing back at him as you cross the open plan to the kitchen to empty the stale popcorn.

“No– no.” Tyson sputters. And, for a second, he sounds like he might add something, but you finish rinsing and drying the bowl and he hasn’t continued. Something about it turns your stomach.

“Come, get in. ‘S cold.” Tyson tells you, lifting the layered patchwork of blankets that engulf his lower half, beckoning you in.

Your eyes narrow at him, face contorting sarcastically, and you watch as his brows raise, eyes roll.

“Don’t be weird about some blankets. It’s pretty obvious why you were on tinder at eleven p.m.”

Your throat goes dry, because he’s right, and god, it’s embarrassing that he’s called it out, but it doesn’t change how you’re still a little hot all over, and that wakesurfing pic spins in the back of your head, even looking at him, now, wearing a plush hoodie and waist-deep in fluffy bedding.

“Hey, chill. You were on tinder, too.” You compose yourself quickly, flicking an accusatory point of your finger in his direction with raised brows, hoping, by some grace, the weird, sheeted lighting means he doesn’t catch the glow of your cheeks, hoping he doesn’t quite know your timbre well enough to recognise the waver.

Tyson lifts his hands in mock surrender, warping his voice sarcastically to chide “Oh, you caught me,” before he flips the duvet off to let you have it, leaning to fish over the heavy wool knit you’d given JT as a housewarming gift years ago.

“’S like JT’s never heard of central heating before.” You mutter, if for nothing but to fill the quiet as you take up place beside him on the couch, tucking yourself comfortably beneath the still-warm duvet which bunches up thickly between the pair of you.

“He doesn’t earn enough to use it, unfortunately.” Tyson sighs, nods solemnly before his eyes cant towards you, glinting a little as he staves off a smile, “‘M sure those tiny shorts don’t help your case, though.”

You barely let the thought settle before you’re throwing a pillow at his head and he’s catching it, apologising with red cheeks and “I knew that’d getcha. Y’r shorts are fine.”.

“They’re just fine?”

And you don’t know what you’re doing, not letting what he’s said settle before you cut back: there’s still a nagging warmth in you, and your mouth runs with it, testing. You roll the inside of your cheek between your teeth.

“I can’t think too much about ‘em in JT’s house, honestly.”

He looks shy while saying it, and your whole body goes cold and tingly-numb watching him, hearing what he’s said, the way his cheeks are ruddy and his chin tucked like hiding, a little. Your dumb almost-smile fills the gap while you process, shift your seat unconsciously, heat curling between your legs, and you pray he doesn’t notice.

“Fuck off.” You settle on laughing like he’s joking, even though he’s straight-faced.

An unoffended hum clears it, whatever that moment was, and Tyson continues.

“Y’know, I was losing hope. I swiped right on you weeks ago, like last movie night. Whenever it was that you and Mikko, like, whatever.”

His words wrap around you, the weight of them, feeling like he’s holding the flyaway at the end of a spool of thread, about to unravel. Tyson shuffles his phone between his hands absentmindedly, not looking at you.

“What d’you…”

But you know what he means.

“I didn’t go home, y’know with Mikko, or anything, Tys. We carpooled.”

“Yeah, JT told me. Still, you left with him, his hand was on your back, I was kinda jealous, whatever, whatever.” Tyson says, sweetly self-deprecating and assuring in the ways he always is, and his words feel like a swarm of butterflies in your chest (and, right now, you don’t even begin to unpack the mention of JT.).

“Point is, it was a long shot swiping right. Didn’t think you’d ever hit me back. ‘M glad it’s paying off.”

Tyson looks at you, mouth pinched into this little smile he does, and you hadn’t realised but you know it up and down, know the satisfaction behind it. For all the facetious digs, you feel the change, here, things being laid out flush on the table, between you both.

“Paying off? I have no idea what you’re talking about. I swiped right by accident.”

“You’re my mortal enemy.” His smile blooms.

“So, why’d you swipe right?”

You don’t miss a beat.

“For sure the wakeboarding pic.” You furrow your brow like pssh, like you’re telling him obviously. Your eyes try to find the version of him from that photo, here, now, within the billow of layers. All you discover is his hand, hard and cut with veins, which clutches the blanket on his lap: it waves heat through your lower abdomen all the same as that photo did.

He chews on his lip, brow hard, then you watch him light up, a-ha— remembering the photo.

“Fuck yeah. I knew it’d work.” He says. “‘S that why you’re squirming like that?”

Sitting there, the duvet weighs a tonne on your bare thighs, and there’s no air in your lungs, you’re hot all over, and inside, too.

“I’m not, squirming, Tys.” You try, squirming, cris-crossing your legs and shifting a little.

“You are so! It’s kinda sweet.” He looks overjoyed. You want to sink into the rowdy sea of blankets.

“Sweet?” You nearly laugh, fingers curling into your blanket, knuckles white. “Please don’t mock me.”

You feel dumb, pleading, and if your legs weren’t frozen, tight-muscled, you’d probably be packing into an Uber, by now.

“I’m not mocking you. Bein’ dead serious.” Tyson, easy smile still cool and calm, sticks a hand out, extends his pinky to promise. Level with him, you take it, exhale when he doesn’t let go: he has this weird little way of soothing, soft dark eyes puppy-wide, brows upturned.

“Let me know if I’ve read this situation wrong.” His voice is smaller than it’s ever been, than you’ve ever heard. Hands entwined, dropped to the couch now, your pinkies are pinched red, latticed together, both tight as each other.

“You haven’t.”

The edge of his hand presses against yours.

“Are you wet?”

You nod, and his breath falls in a strained sigh.

His fingers drift up to take your hand, properly, tug you closer, maybe, but your tongue lashes before you overthink it, and it stops him, freezes you both.

“Can I suck you off?”

It’s all you want, the weight of him in your mouth, and there’s no room for shyness anymore, not after his question. Tyson’s head tips back into the couch, grip plying away from the blankets, fingers flexing, his one hand squeezing yours. A little part of you thinks about those fingers, too, wants to wrap your lips around them.

“Fuck.” He nearly whimpers.

“Yeah?” You’re doe-eyed, curious. More than a little excited.

“Yeah– yes, please.” You see him swallow, nodding vacantly.

So you push the blankets away (which is okay, the air could nearly sizzle against your skin, you think, everything’s suddenly warm, everywhere), and move to kneel between his legs, and it takes all you have to keep from giggling shyly when he hands you a throw pillow, says “For your knees, y’know,” nervously. A shimmery warmth rises in your chest at the gesture.

He helps your eager hands tug his sweatpants down around his midthigh, cock bobbing free, hard and heavy, proud between his legs. Your lax mouth nearly waters at the sight– likewise, he blinks hard, watching the way your eyes widen, tongue wets your plush lips. His exhale shudders, and tension claws at his abs as you lean in on your elbows.

That tension dissolves as your hot tongue meets the head, laps tentatively at his sticky precum, and quickly, you melt into it all, spitting on the tip and lazily pulling the slick down his thick shaft with fingers that don’t quite ring around the girth of him. You tug back up to the flared crown, revelling in his tiny reactions: the slump back of his head, clipped breath, struggling to stay quiet when you hit somewhere sensitive.

He watches, enthralled, as you take him into your mouth, pretty eyes fluttering shut with every bob of your head, taking him a little deeper into the back of your mouth on every pass until he’s butting the back of your throat and you’re choking him down, clenching around him. He wishes it didn’t turn him on so fucking much, seeing the tears well up as you pull off him, a mess of sticky spit and precum lacy between his cock and your chin, your smiley mouth.

“Taste so good, Tys.” You hum, kissing gently against the velvet underside, all tongue and loose suckling at him, practically making out with his cock, the bliss of it nearly blurring his vision.

The compliment goes straight to his dick, and Tyson slowly rings your hair tight around his fist, murmurs “Okay?” and when you nod, he squeezes, tugging at your scalp deliciously.

“Fuck my face?” You ask, oh-so-innocent, gasping when he bucks his cock towards your mouth unconsciously, smearing your mess against your cheek.

“Tongue out.”

There’s a steady sternness to his tone that pits your stomach, that you don’t have time to unpack before Tyson guides your head, slowly, at first, bringing you up and down on his cock, tongue lolling, getting you both messy, drooly. Your forearms rest on his inner thighs, lax now he’s controlling the movement, picking up pace as he gages your reactions.

Bets are off when he catches one of your hands float down between your legs, though, and if he wasn’t fighting for his life to stave off his own peak (or, if he wasn’t on JT’s poor couch, fuck) he’d call you out on it, let this escalate to something with a harsher energy, something you’re both keening for, but can’t quite have, here.

You gag as he sinks into your throat, wet and frothy and clenching around him, jaw going blissfully numb as tears bloom, spill to sear your cheeks. Your hand ruts tentatively at your core, aimless swathes of your fingertips over your clit that only just quell the ache, but not the desperation.

The weight of him is all-consuming, salty-sweet on your tongue, and it’s not long before he’s backing off, struggling to keep his mouth shut while you whimper and moan, gag around him, your fingers toying with your clit gently: he can see it, your arm moving, the tight rotation of your torso, kinda, and if he thinks about it, he knows he won’t last.

Tentatively, Tyson lets your head lift, hand still heavy at the crown of your skull but pressureless, and, mindlessly, your hand finds his cock in the absence of your mouth.

“Tys.” It takes him a second to come to centre, open his eyes. You feel him throb in your hand, and try again: “Tyson.”

“Yeah. Yeah?” He blinks, once, twice, clearing his clouded head.

“Tell me this is mine.”

You whine “Tys,”, faux-pouting when he takes a second, his breath ragged, and you blink up at him, tugging hard around the head of his cock, encouraging a fresh drool of precum, making him whine.

All at once, Tyson huffs, rolls his eyes and leans quick to grab you around the ribs and pull you up, make you crawl onto the couch with him, plucking a gaspy little laugh from you at the sudden roughness of it.

“You’re such a little slut.” He chuckles, shakes his head, drawing a hand up to twist your hair around his fist once more— holding you level with his gaze, and your jaw gapes around a shocked smile, a fresh lick of your juices soaking your panties, your shorts, by now. You gulp, suddenly aware of the filth of it all, the cool air freezing against the mess on your face, between your legs. Something about it gives you a rush of confidence.

“Yeah, but so are you. Tell me your cock’s all mine, Tys. That this isn’t a one-time thing.”

The facetious, mean demeanour he wears melts for half a second as he processes, pulls you in to kiss you hard, open. His face goes hot, head blurred at the taste of himself heady on your tongue, the harsh, minty cut of your toothpaste still lingering.

And, with his tongue in your mouth, Tyson shoves his free hand down the front of your shorts, then yanks you back by the hair at just the right time, leaving you, tongue a little out, fighting for air, hitching a gasp as his fingers find your cunt, dripping.

“Only if this belongs to me, too.”

With one hand in your hair and the other pressed to your pussy, Tyson’s face is more serious than you’ve ever seen it. Your chest burns in the best way.

“All yours, baby.” You smile, meaning it.

Juxtaposing the roughness with which he’d yanked you onto the couch, Tyson’s hands move to guide your hips, tugging you over his lap. He reaches up, stroking your hair from your face, all the shyness he’d had earlier back in the smile he glows with, now.

“I’ll ask you on a real date when my dick’s soft again.”

You laugh softly, hand pushing up under his hoodie, helping him tug it off: you’re indulgent in the way your hand brushes his abs, and if he notices, he says nothing.

“Better get to work then, huh?”

It takes all Tyson has not to land a sharp little slap to your ass at that, but he’s vaguely still aware of JT down the hall, and Tyson’ll be damned if he lets this be interrupted, now. It takes little more than a nudge to bunch the soft material of your shorts up to the side, and you’re so wet it’s everywhere, soaked through and it’s starting to slick up your inner thighs, a little, Tyson could nearly finish on the spot when he realises, but his fingers dig into the flesh at the junction between your ass and thigh, and he’s a little distracted.

Your one hand steadies his cock, the other pressing on his shoulder. And you let the head catch your hole and draw yourself down, so slow it feels torturous, like it’s crushing his entire chest, and when he finally bottoms out, opens his eyes to find your teasing little smile, your hips unmoving, and, with the realisation that you’re fucking with him, he uses the squeeze he has on your ass to flip the pair of you, huffing “Fuck this.” as you yelp. Your back’s arched over the mound of blankets and pillows, tilting your hips up for him, practically presenting yourself, suddenly lewd in a way it hadn’t been moments ago, even when he was inside you. You feel your cheeks burn.

“Don’t have time to play.” Tyson mutters.

You nearly laugh, smile so big that his frustration could nearly dissipate at the sight. Nearly. Then, you talk again.

“You really wanna ask me on that date, don’t you, Tys?”

The blunt head catches your cunt again, nudges forward, sits shallow. You gulp around the little sigh that nearly slips, blink hard, hide the beckoning pleasure, as though he won’t notice the telltale throb around the tip of his cock.

His curls sweep over his face, so you can’t see it but he rolls his eyes, his lower lip slipping, pinched red and angry, wet from where it’s been drawn between his teeth.

“Not if you’re gonna be a fuckin’ brat.”

Your hips tick, stomach turning first at his words, then at the sticky swirl, the upward drag of his cock against your clit. And your body thrums, hands shaky and numb where they nestle in your rucked up shirt, but the little vein of rebellion, of pushing still runs hot in your head.

“Mm. Bad news, then.” You manage.

“D’you ever shut up?” Tyson sighs, finally pushing in, fast and deep and filling you up and you swear you feel it in your stomach, the pressure: your hand claws mindlessly for your lower belly, feeling the way your muscles move to accommodate it, the tight fit of him. Your mouth is open, brows knit, but no sound finds its way out, too taken by the sudden pleasure. Tys barely rocks back at all before he’s trying to push deeper, satisfied at how your jaw stretches around something unintelligible, a wrecked little moan.

And he’d chirp you for it, how he’s found how to shut you up, but you’re so hot and tight, it’s all he can think about, finally sunken within you, your plush walls slick and squeezing him, so he bites down on his lip, lets his head tip back and fucks into you.

You’re lost in it, instantly, numb to everything but the tingling along your nerve endings that swirls into this depth of heat at your core, and the fire prodded, stoked by Tyson’s hard, quick thrusts, nearly bruising your insides, sending you wordless, breathless.

Once a moment has passed, he’s found a stride that has you whimpering in lieu of the moans you’d both prefer.

(There’s something crushingly hot about this, though: the shaky breaths, the facial expressions: the flushed skin and dropped-jaw, pinched brow silent cries, there’s a desperation in it, one leaning into how you couldn’t wait, had to do this here, now. There’s no other option but to take one another apart.)

He leans forward, into you with his pelvis, a new pressure, new pace: his hips rutting against your spread thighs, fingers pulling the crooked bunch of your shorts and panties up and away, watching your folds split around the girth of him. The look in his eye is loving, almost, wearing a blushy smile as he pulls out, pushes back in, his cock coated, glistening obscenely, making these lewd noises, squishy and wet, and Tyson’s fuckin’ mesmerised.

He reaches down on a thrust, strokes the flat of his thumb over your clit, making your thighs jolt, tremble in his hands, and you’re suddenly chasing, your legs kicking and head falling back as the feeling curls from your cunt up into your abdomen.

Tyson huffs to save a groan and asks “Close?”, as if he couldn’t tell, like your hips aren’t rocking circles under his body, your cunt clamping down on his cock, needy.

So you nod, a little frantic, eager. You press the back of your hand to your lips, focussing on calming yourself as much as muffling yourself, as your face scrunches, the stretch of his cock inside you ribboning pleasure up, everywhere, white-hot as it glimmers along your muscles. Tyson holds the sarcasm, this time, opting to let his fingertips find your hard, slick little bud once more, circling until he feels your body tighten up, then he’s backing off, changing the pace, grinning when your chest heaves a dry sob before he starts again, buries himself to the hilt to keeping you open on his cock and thumbing at your clit.

And you want to tell him that it’s not funny, that you really wanna come, but you don’t trust yourself to say it quietly, right now, not when it’s fucking building, again, and you think you might actually cry if your back arches and he pulls away once more.

But, he knows, sees the sweat gleam your brow, the absent roll-back of your eyes, the way your fists hook, white-knuckling blankets: your throaty little whimpers turn to what he thinks could be please, please. He knows.

He doesn’t pull away, this time, and the crash of your orgasm rolls through and he’s barely thrusting anymore, instead pulling your ass up to where he rests on his haunches, shoving himself all the way inside your spasming pussy, forcing you to cream on his cock, to gush around him.

At the too-loud crawl of his name from your fried throat, one of Tyson’s hands clamps hard over your mouth, but he smiles, enthralled, watching you lose yourself in it. You’re moving perfectly mindlessly against him, your pelvis rocking out the rippling pleasure as his fingers lighten on your clit, now slow and gentle, barely-there, but the most delicate of strokes, now, make your cunt squeeze, your whole body tauten, tremble.

You’re so lost in it, so gone, you think you’d barely notice the sudden uptick of Tyson’s hips, cresting his peak, too, the flood of heat inside you, if not for the airless grunt, his head tipped back and abs locking up, hand pushed through his sweat-slicked curls, wild and everywhere.

You’re glad you notice, though, as aftershocks shake you: you remember, only just, to appreciate this (even half as much as your body does: you feel your fucking heartbeat in your cunt, your muscles all warm and liquid along your limbs.).

Tyson hums, moans, maybe, and moves his hands for your sides, holding fast, stilling you both in place ‘till your breathing finds some semblance of evenness.

“I never wanna pull out.” Tyson’s head falls as he murmurs it, equal parts petulance and pleasure, now, he’s revelling. You find yourself nodding, agreeing.

“You’re still fuckin’ hard, Tys.” You say, feeling it, the overstimulated throb of him— or maybe it’s you. Either way, he’s still stiff and buried to the hilt in your drooling cunt, filling you entirely. The subtlety of the pulse encompasses you, squeezes your stomach, then your pussy, around him. Tyson slumps, a little, “Huh-ha.” corralling from his mouth before anything coherent can construct itself.

“Gimme a sec.” He manages. You lift on your elbows, a little, look up at him starry-eyed, smiling. Your lips part, goldfishing, kinda, as he pulls out, slowly, spinning your head.

“I’m never getting that date, at this rate.” You chide, your knees pulling up toward your chest, and you’re blushing at how hard it is to stop your hands from reaching for him, pulling him back in: the emptiness between your hips borderline fucks with your head, how bad you miss him.

But then he’s canting the pad of his thumb over your messy slit, frictionless, playing with the torrent of his cum swirled through yours, and his mouth is opening at the sight of your used little hole pushing his cum out, and he can’t think of anything to cut back at you with other than a broken “Fuck.”.

You’re in his lap, practically, hips propped up on his knees, sticky and leaking filthily all over his bunched up sweats as his cock throbs against the cleft of your ass, and he’s softening slowly, but god, you make it tough without even trying. You’re doe-eyed and still flushed, breathing hard and Tyson can hardly take it. He swallows, blushing deep, trying to string together a series of words which will make sense, ‘cause god, he needs more of you. Can’t let this be a one-time thing.

“My dick’s the softest it’s gonna be, baby. Come to breakfast with me, tomorrow?”

And for all you might’ve expected him to ask, now, it still fills you with butterflies, the cluelessness laced with hope which dances across his bright face. Then, you’re nodding unmistakably and ripping him down to you by his arm: a messy kiss, overjoyed, only choked out by the hard thrust of two fingers into your sensitive cunt.

The slow rub of his fingertips at your g-spot, hard in time with the roll of his mouth against yours, feels like equal parts pleasure and promise now: this isn’t a one time thing. He pushes your hair from your face and nips at your lip and mumbles your name into your neck while he makes you come on his fingers, and you know he’s all yours.

#SRY THIS TOOK SO LONG LMAO #tyson jost #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost smut #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #nhl smut #hockey imagine #hockey smut #ff.doc

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senditcolton · 3 years ago

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Falling

a/n: don’t get too excited. this isn’t an actual fic. what it is is a WIP that I started in February of last year and unfortunately, a multitude of trades stopped all chance of this being completed into a fully fledged fic. but, I love this a little too much to let go of it completely. so, enjoy this “snippet” of annoying, cocky, Tyson Jost (because lord knows I did).

Word Count: 4.6k Warnings: allusions to sex but nothing explicit

You wake up to the soft morning sunlight hitting your face. The golden light dances across your bare skin and you curl deeper into the covers. You are warm and comfortable and you absolutely don’t want to leave the coziness of the bed. Especially considering the fact that when you opened your eyes and peeked out the window, the Denver skyline was dusted with snow.

Wait, you think to yourself. The skyline? Your eyes fly open again as you look out the massive window across from you and still see the outline of the tall buildings. You slowly start to become more coherent as you take in more of your surroundings. The nightstand next to the bed didn’t have your alarm clock or your favorite candle. When you look at the sheets curled around you, they are a dark navy blue instead of the light purple of yours. Only one thought rings through your mind:

This is not my room.

You jolt up in your, wait no, the bed and whip your head around, trying to take in more information and remember where you were. It isn’t until your eyes land on a jersey hanging on the wall, an Avalanche jersey with the number 17 emblazoned on the back, do the memories of last night come flooding back to you.

The Landeskog’s holiday party. The weird tension that always between you two. It becoming too much. The frenzied kiss. The cab ride back to his apartment. Your clothes being thrown on the floor. His head between your thighs. Your fingers tangled in his curls. The weight of his body on top of yours.

Shit.

You were in Tyson’s bedroom. You were in Tyson’s bed. You had slept with him. You had sex with your best friend’s teammate. You had sex with the guy you hated.

You didn’t have time to think about how you came to wake up in his bed. You were more concerned with getting out of here with at least some dignity. You stumble out of the empty bed and start to gather your clothes. While you were wiggling back into your dress from the night before, you keep your ear open for any sound coming from the apartment. Tyson wasn’t in bed when you woke up and you didn’t hear any noise coming from the connecting bathroom. Maybe the Avs had practice and he was already at the morning skate. Whatever the reason, you were thankful that his face wasn’t the first thing you saw after waking up.

After you finish getting redressed, you slowly and quietly open the bedroom door. You still don’t hear anything from the apartment and you silently thank the universe that you might be able to get out of this without dying of embarrassment. Walking down the hall, you spot the front door and your heels and purse waiting there for you. You almost reach the door when you hear a voice call out to you.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

You turn around towards the voice and find a very shirtless Tyson leaning in the doorway of, what you assumed was, the kitchen. The grey sweatpants were hanging low on his hips and his curls were messier than you had seen them. And he was casually looking at you, standing like a deer-in-headlights at his front door.

“Hi,” you manage to get out and then curse yourself at how small your voice sounded. You also silently curse Tyson for noticing, a small smirk appearing on his face. You lift yourself up and cross your arms, defiantly looking back at him. “What?”

“Do you want some breakfast?”

“What?” you ask, caught off guard by his words.

“Breakfast. You know, the most important meal of the day,” Tyson lightly teases you. You see his eyes dance over your face, your eyebrows still furrowed in confusion. “You do eat breakfast, don’t you?”

“Yes, I eat breakfast,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at his question.

“Perfect.” That is all he says, turning around and disappearing. You are still standing there, trying to process exactly what was going on. Tyson seemed completely unfazed by the fact that you were here and even offered you breakfast. However, that didn’t mean you had to stay. You could easily slip out the door and forget about last night. But the rumbling in your stomach made your decision for you. Letting out a sigh, you follow Tyson into the kitchen and sit down on one of the stools. You take in the scene in front of you.

“You’re making waffles?” you ask incredulously as you watch Tyson pour batter in the waffle iron.

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing, it’s just, pancakes are more common for…” you trail off, trying to find the right words. Tyson peeks over his shoulder, his eyebrows raising as you struggle. “For… post-hookup mornings.”

“Do you want pancakes?”

“No, I actually hate pancakes,” comes your quick reply and Tyson lets out a small laugh at your candor. You can’t help but let a smile making its way onto your lips. Tyson once again peeks over his shoulder at you and slowly takes in your appearance. He turns to face you, still looking you up and down. You look back at him and gently shake your head.

“Why are you staring at me? You’ve already seen me naked so, there’s not much left for you to look at.”

“Do you want some of my clothes?” Tyson asks, once again catching you off guard.

“What?”

“Am I speaking a different language or something? Clothes, like sweatpants and a t-shirt. Something more comfortable than your dress and heels.”

You stay, sitting in your stool and just staring at Tyson, your jaw slightly dropped. You look around the kitchen, your mind racing a mile a minute. He was cooking you breakfast, he was offering you clothes. The whole thing just seemed so… domestic.

“Next thing I know, you’re gonna offer me a ride back to my apartment,” you mutter under your breath.

“If you need it,” Tyson breezily replies, turning back to the waffle maker.

“Tyson,” you say, your voice sharp. He turns back to you, his eyes wide at your tone. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?’

“Why are you… being so nice to me?” You see his eyebrows raise, forcing you to elaborate. “Like, you’re offering me food and clothes and a ride. I mean, we hate each other or at least, annoy the shit out of each other. Last night… happened but this, this is a whole other level. It feels, almost, I don’t know, romantic?”

You lightly jump in shock as Tyson’s laugh echoes around the kitchen.

“Y/N, it’s called being a decent human being, not a marriage proposal. Jeez, when you complained about all your previous hookups, I didn’t realize they were all complete assholes,” he jokes.

“What do you mean, ‘when I’ve complained about my hookups’?”

“You talk really loudly when you’re drunk. It’s kind of hard not to overhear.”

“Well, since you obnoxiously giggle at every single thing when you’re drunk, maybe that’s the reason I have to talk loud,” you chirp back. Tyson’s only reply is a small smile as he slides over a plate of waffles to you. You let out a quiet thank you and dig in. As you both eat, the weird uncertain energy that had filled the kitchen earlier started to dissipate.

“I had a good time last night,” you hear Tyson gently say from across the way. You look up and find him staring down at his waffles, absentmindedly pushing his fork around. He seemed nervous, which slightly shocked you. Tyson was always confident and light-hearted. The fact that this, that you, could make him unsure was new. You glance down at your plate again before breaking the silence.

“Same here.”

Tyson looks up at you, a bright and somewhat mischievous smile on his face.

“Woah, Y/N actually giving me a compliment? This is new.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes again for what seemed to be the hundredth time this morning. So much for the nervous Tyson.

“Don’t push your luck. All I’m saying is you’re pretty good in bed,” you lightly chirp, scraping off the last of the waffle remnants on your plate.

“Good enough that you’d want to do it again?”

Surprisingly enough, you did not almost choke on your fork at Tyson’s suggestion. Perhaps it was because this morning was already weird enough. Perhaps it was because compared to his previous offers, this was something ‘normal’. Or perhaps it was because part of you was waiting for him to ask you that. Because you really wanted to.

You let a smirk appear on your face as you lock eyes with Tyson. You lean over the countertop, your chin coming to rest in your upturned palms.

“Just as long as I get free breakfast out of it on a semi-regular basis,” you reply, pulling another laugh from Tyson.

“Oh, is that all? And what’s in it for me?”

“You get to sample the famous homemade desserts that I provide before anyone else,” you reply easily, shrugging your shoulders. Tyson leans back against the counter, his pointer finger tapping a rhythm on his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. His eyes connect with yours once again and he smiles.

“You drive a hard bargain, Y/N. But I accept.” Tyson then quickly reaches over, grabbing your plate and his own and placing them in the sink. He turns back to you, an expectant look on his face. “So… comfy clothes, a ride home, or both?”

As it turns out, you decline the rest of Tyson’s offers. You stated that you were perfectly comfortable paying for your own Uber and doing the ‘walk of shame’ into your apartment. If you were being honest, refusing the clothes and the ride just meant that there was less questions for your roommate to ask and for you to ‘answer’. Although, she still asked plenty of questions when you walked through the door.

“Oh, get it girl!” you hear your roommate shout out behind you as you lock your front door. You slightly shake your head at her antics and look to face her. Your roommate Gabriella was lounging on the couch, her hair pulled up and her pajamas still hanging on her frame.

“You are insufferable, do you know that?” you laugh, making your way further into the apartment.

“Hey, I’m not the one that got to hookup with a hockey player last night,” she shot back. You shot her a grin, plopping down on the couch across from her. She leans forwards, her elbows resting on her knees. “So, who was it?”

“How do you know it was one of the players? I could have easily slept with one of their friends. Or who knows, maybe one of the equipment managers.”

“First off, I have been to enough games to know that all of the equipment guys are my dad’s age and married,” Ella scoffs, rolling her eyes at your words. “Secondly, the fact that you’re avoiding my question confirms that it was a player. So, come on, tell me who.”

You give no reply, only a smile as you raise yourself up off the couch and make your way towards your bedroom. Ella voice follows you down the hall.

“Oh, come on! Does he play defense or offense? Is his number higher or lower than twenty-five? Is he Canadian? Is he older or younger than you? Tell me something!”

Her voice gets cut off once you close your bedroom door. You laugh at her desperation and fall back on your bed, letting out a sigh. It’s not that you didn’t want to tell Ella about Tyson. But that was something you and Tyson agreed on this morning while you were waiting for your Uber. Absolutely no one was supposed to know about this arrangement that you two agreed to.

That condition was something you two really didn’t need to discuss. You both agreed that it would make everything easier. Since you both had so many mutual friends, it was better to keep this a secret. That way, once this ended there wouldn’t be any unnecessary lines drawn between your friend group.

You let out another small sigh and lift yourself up off the bed. Peeling off last night’s clothes and stuffing them in the laundry hamper, you make your way to the bathroom. The thing that you wanted most was to take a nice hot shower and relax after the craziness of last night and this morning. You turn on the water, throw on a playlist and step in, letting the steam instantly calm your sore muscles. While you stood under the running water, you let your mind wander.

Twenty-four hours ago, if you were told that you would wake up in the bed of the guy that annoyed you to no end, you would’ve laughed. And yet, here you were. Not only did you sleep with him but you willing entered a ‘friends with benefits’ situation with him. Although, the emphasis was more on the benefits part. The idea of you and Tyson being friends seemed more far-fetched than the idea of sleeping with him.

It wasn’t that you and Tyson completely despised each other. There was just something about his personality that rubbed you the wrong way. It had been that way since Ryan first introduced you two and it hadn’t really gone away. If you really thought about it, there wasn’t any specific reason for you to dislike him. He was attractive obviously. He was nice and sometimes annoyingly positive. But there was just… something. You had given up trying to figure out what that was; sometimes people just didn’t like each other and that was fine. Thankfully, you didn’t have to like each other in order to have some amazing sex.

You laugh quietly to yourself as you finish up your routine, drying yourself off and making your way back to your room. How quickly things changed. As you walked back into your bedroom, you hear the ping of your phone going off. Making your way over to the charger, you see that you have two text messages waiting for you. One from Ryan and one from an unknown number. Clicking open the app, you open Ryan’s first.

Ryan: Hey, did you get home okay? You just disappeared last night and no one knew where you were.

Y/N: yeah, sorry about that! I was tired and didn’t want to make you leave so I just got myself an Uber. I meant to tell you but I completely spaced!

As soon as you hit the send button, part of you starts to ache. It slightly amazed you at how easily you could lie to Ryan, the first true friend you made when you moved to Denver. But you reminded yourself that it was for the best. You click back to open the message from the unknown number.

Hey, it’s Tyson. Are you coming out on Friday?

Your eyebrow furrows in confusion until another message from Ryan pops up on the top of your screen.

Ryan: No worries. Some of the guys and I are going to the bar after Friday’s game if you want to join.

A smile makes its way onto your face after typing out a quick affirmative to Ryan, you jump back Tyson’s message.

Y/N: I am now

Tyson: awesome. I’ll see you then

You let the conversation end there. It wasn’t until later that evening, when you were curled up on the couch with Ella watching Jeopardy, did your phone buzz with another message from Tyson.

Tyson: Is it bad that I’m still thinking about your body underneath mine?

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were nervous. Friday had rolled around quicker than you expected and here you were, standing in front of your bathroom mirror, putting the final touches on your makeup and smoothing down your outfit. You would be meeting the guys in about 20 minutes and you were ready. But if that was true, why did you feel so unprepared?

Because Tyson is going to be there.

The thought rang in your head before you could stop it. Tyson was going to be there and he was going to see you. And then you would both have to pretend that nothing had changed between you two.

Being someone’s booty call was nothing new for you. You had a few of them throughout your life. The only difference between those in the past and this one with Tyson was distance. Before this, there was no sharing of friend groups, no common ground. Sometimes, your friends didn’t even know the person’s name. But now… it was an entirely different ball game.

You were a good actress. When you had to suffer through customer service jobs to make a living, you almost had to be. But when you weren’t on the clock, when your attitude wasn’t directly correlated with your income, you prided yourself on being exactly who you were. No lies, no bullshit.

Now, you had to lie to the friends who had accepted you completely.

You took a deep breath, giving yourself one last hard look in the mirror. This was for the best. And, you aren’t lying to them, your brain tried to rationalize. You just aren’t telling them everything. There is a difference. Tyson did still annoy you. Just because he was a good lay doesn’t mean you would suddenly get along. That’s what this whole arrangement was about; sex not friendship.

The ride to the bar was quicker than you expected. Before you knew it, you were walking across the sidewalk and pushing the door open, the heat from inside feeling blissful against the cold winter air. You slightly rolled your eyes at the fact that these boys were comfortable walking around downtown Denver in freezing temperatures just to drink. But then again, you had also agreed to come so where you really that different?

You manage to spot Ryan quickly, huddled in corner booth with Cale, Nate, and a few others. Ryan seems to spot you just as quick and waves you over. You weave your way through the bodies crowding the floor and finally manage to land at the front of the table.

“Y/N! You made it!” Nate greets you as you slide into an empty space next to Mikko.

“Of course, I did. For some reason, I missed your stupid faces,” you joke to them, their smiles immediately lifting you into brighter spirits.

“You just saw us on Saturday,” Ryan points out.

“Yeah, but drinking at the captain’s house is a little different than drinking at some dingy downtown bar.”

“What’s the difference? The night is probably going to end the same way. Us, drunk.” Andre laughs and the rest of the boys shout in unison, lifting their glasses and bottles in a fake cheers. You lean back in the cracked leather of the booth, the voices of the guys relaxing you and your eyes slowly closing. This is what a night out meant to you; it was a time to kick back, forget about your stress and worries. Just to live in the moment and take everything as it came to you.

“That’s my spot, sweetheart.”

You hear the teasing edge of his voice before you see him and when you open your eyes, he is standing at the edge of the table, eyes on you and drinks in hand.

He looks really good. That is the first thought that bounces through your mind and you immediately curse yourself for thinking it. But it was true. His curls were almost artfully tossed, his eyes bright and his stupid compression shirt highlighting every part his stupidly perfect body. You felt the heat rise in your stomach at the sight of him, your body responding before your head could stop it. Andre had no idea how right he was; this night was going to end the same way as Saturday. And you were looking forward to it.

You take a deep breath, knowing that no matter how much your body wanted Tyson to take you home, you two had to buy some time. You fix him a sharp glare, one of your eyebrows raising in challenge to his words.

“And that’s not my drink,” you shoot back, examining the drinks wrapped in Tyson’s hands. “So, I guess we are both starting off this night disappointed.” A chorus of ooohs broke out around you as the other guys overheard you and Tyson’s conversation.

“Ouch, you two are starting right away tonight, aren’t you?” Nate laughs. You give a nonchalant shrug, tearing your eyes away from Tyson.

“Is there anything better to do?” you rhetorically ask. Your breath catches when you feel the body of Tyson slide into the booth next to you, the space barely enough for him to fit, which meant that he was pressed excruciatingly close to you. You whip your head towards him and catch the smirk on his face. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

“Did that sound like a welcome?” you question, your eyes still sparkling with challenge.

“I was hoping my intense sexual energy would get you to crack,” Tyson easily shoots back, throwing a wink in for good measure. You force out a sarcastic laugh at his overly confident energy.

“Actually, all it’s doing, Tyson, is making me want to get drunk,” you say, pushing him back out of the booth and moving past him towards the bar. You are almost entirely past him but you suddenly feel the barest graze of Tyson’s fingertips across the small of your back. Even through the fabric of your shirt, the touch sends bolts of electricity down your spine. You dare to sneak a quick glance back at him and find him sitting back down in the booth, talking with the others as if nothing happened.

You sigh, shaking your head as you weave your way towards the bar. Despite the crowd, you manage to quickly flag down the bartender and place your order. You are casually leaning against the bar, your eyes tracing the outline of the bottles on the shelves when someone comes up and nudges your shoulder. You turn to see Ryan next to you, staring down at you with an inquisitive look in his eyes.

“What is it Ryan?”

“Why can’t you and Tyson just be friends?” he asks, his head gesturing back towards the booth. Your reply is a small shrug, hoping he would leave it at that. You can still feel Ryan’s gaze on you but before you open your mouth to reply, the bartender places your drink down on the bar in front of you, as well as another bottle of beer for Ryan. You thank him and pick up your glass.

“I don’t know Ry. We just don’t get along,” you say, forcing your voice to remain noncommittal. He only hums in response. You don’t like the tense silence that has popped up between you two. It annoys you more because you know that part of it is your fault. You never kept secrets from each other and even though he had no idea, you two could sometimes read each other’s energies so well that you didn’t need words. You nudge your shoulder into Ryan’s, trying to lighten in the mood and just talk to your best friend again.

“Hey, you haven’t told me my horoscope yet,” you tease, starting to walk back to the booth. Ryan smiles down at you.

“I know you already read it,” he jokes back, knowing that you were as much of an astrology nerd as he was.

“Maybe I did, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hear about how I need to be careful with my money for a second time.”

“She says, as she buys one of the expensive cocktails.” You give another small shrug, taking a sip of your drink. The two of you make it back to the table and this time, you make the conscious decision to sit on the other side of the booth, across from Tyson. You slide in next to Nate, still sipping on your cocktail.

“What in the hell did you order Y/N?” Cale asks, taking in the outrageous color of the liquid currently sitting in your cup.

“Um, something with a lot of alcohol in it?” you give in reply and you hear some chuckles from the boys around you. “Hey, if Andre is right and tonight is going to end just like Saturday, I need to catch up with you all.” Your eyes purposeful flick over towards Tyson and find that his eyes are already attached to you. You smile, your lips slipping around the straw in your glass.

“Oh, so does that mean Tyson is going to get laid again tonight?” Nate asks from beside you. As soon as those words register, you’re so caught off guard that you start choking. You cough multiple times and have to wave off the concerned faces of the guys next to you.

“I’m fine,” you say between coughs.

“Are you sure? Do you need some water or something?” Cale asks from across the table, looking ready to leap over the wood to help you.

“I’m sure,” you say, taking a few deep breaths.

“What happened Y/N?” Tyson asked from across the table, the teasing lilt to his voice perfectly clear. “Is the thought of someone sleeping with me that unbelievable?” Your only reply is a glare in his direction.

“The only unbelievable thing is that you won’t tell us who it was,” JT chimed in.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Tyson smoothly replied, leaning back in his chair. “You all should know that my mama raised me better than that.”

“Sure, so you just come to practice the next morning with scratches down your back after the Landeskog holiday party and you just expect us to let it go?” JT questions. Tyson just gives a smirk and a nod that has even you rolling your eyes.

“Could we stop talking about Tyson’s sexual escapades, please. I’m actually trying to enjoy my night,” you say, taking another large sip of your drink. Tyson’s smirk never leave his lips as he locks eyes with yours.

“What is it Y/N? Are you jealous?”

“In your dreams,” you scoff, your eyes moving skyward.

“Actually, in my dreams you’re never jealous. In my dreams you just join in.”

“Tyson,” you hear Ryan say sharply, shooting a glare in his direction.

“It’s fine Ryan,” you say, placing a hand on his arm. “If Tyson wants to fantasize about someone completely out of his league, that’s his choice.”

You smirk as the laughter from the others fills your ears. You shoot Tyson a challenging glance. He takes a small sip of his beer, a sign of concession to everyone else. But you see the look in his eyes, the daring glint there, telling you that whatever games you want to play, he is more than willing to play along.

The night continued on like that; you and the boys drinking and laughing. Tyson and you periodically chirped each other, keeping up the façade of two people that hated each other. At least, that’s what it looked like. But between your sharp words and glancing blows, there was something more beneath it. Heated glances, light touches, and feet playing underneath the table, you and Tyson were building the tension between you two. Soon, one of you would crack and you couldn’t wait for that moment.

#nicole writes #maybe once he completely settles in to minni #and i learn a little more about the team #i'll revisited this #but right now it's going to the WIP graveyard #i'll miss you playboy Jost

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matbaerzal · 3 years ago

Text

Like This Pt.3 | T. Jost

Summary: Tyson is the best roommate you could ask for, you can’t imagine ever living with someone else… no- no not like that, your relationship is purely platonic! (Part 1) (Part 2) < > (Part 4) A/N: I'm sorry there's no set schedule on this fic.. I'm struggling a little to find a balance between work and writing rn 😅 Warnings: alcohol consumption (not much tho) & bed-sharing. Reader pronouns: she/her Words: 2,2K Tagging: @konecny-s @softboybarzal @vitekvanecek @kerwritesthings @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 @samsteel @notaccurateornice @tysojost @justjosty @stlbluesbrat21 @sophiealiice ... lmk if you want to be tagged 💕

The bar was crowded as you shouted across the bar for a glass of water along with your second drink of the night. If you had to come out, you’d at least hold back on the drinks so you felt alright in the morning. Looking over at Tyson, you feel a hint of guilt bubbling in your stomach - you’d been avoiding him.

Rachel and Caroline had both gone home to shower and get a couple of outfit options, promising to be back in good time so you could get ready together. Tyson went to the gym and when he came home he took his usual nap spot on the couch, leaving just enough room for you to sit. Your laptop was placed on your spot, but when you came out from your room you’d taken it and sat in one of the chairs instead, intentionally not making eye contact with him as you opened it and started writing.

It felt weird, having been so close to him now. Sure, you’d cuddled before - like definitely. But not with him shirtless, and not in a bed. It was new territory and you had no idea how you felt about it.

On the other end of the bar, Tyson was sitting next to J.T., eyes on you as he spoke “I thought she knew I was coming home, I mean she did, but- I don’t know” Tyson sighs, not finding the right words. J.T. waits a moment for Tyson to collect his thoughts. “I knew the girls were over, and she usually sleeps in my bed when they are, so I tried to be quiet when I walked into my room, y’know, I didn’t want to wake her”

He looks over to check if you’re still at the bar and double-checks that your friends are still out on the dance floor before he continues. “She woke up for just a moment, and she scooted across the bed and like, cuddled me.” J.T. raises his brows as Tyson continues. “and then she falls asleep again just like that. I wake up and she’s still there in the morning, and-” Tyson checks your whereabouts again, seeing you now out on the dancefloor with your friends. “and I couldn’t help but pull her closer y’know, but she wakes up and leaves without saying much. I don’t know if I’m reading into things but it’s been kind of awkward since”

“I don’t know what to say, man” J.T. lies, he knows exactly what he wants to say, but every time he’s said it before, Tyson hasn’t listened, he’s just brushed it off.

“I just want it to go back to normal”

J.T. can’t help the sarcastic laugh that escapes him, “normal being you hiding your feelings for her, pining after her, blind to the fact that she’s pining after you too” he could blame the alcohol for being so direct.

“You don’t know that” Tyson rushes, “- you don’t know if she feels the same way”

“She looks at you the same way you look at her, Tys”

As if to save him from the harsh reality of J.T.’s words Rachel comes over to grab her purse, fishing out her wallet. She throws a comment about how the two of them should get their asses out on the dance floor before she heads to the bar yelling something about getting a round of shots.

“She’s got a point,” J.T. says before getting out of his seat - “you coming?”

Tyson sips his beer, “in a sec”

He looks over at you, getting lost in your happiness, watching from afar, afraid that if he went any closer he would be sucked in - consumed by his feelings. He’d say things he shouldn’t, at least not now, maybe not ever. He’d missed the feeling of your hands in his hair when he went to take a nap and was left feeling confused as you avoided even being close to him. He hadn’t slept well, usually, he felt refreshed after his naps, but he woke up disheveled, more tired than when he laid down in the first place. And he still felt off, even the music couldn’t shake him out of it. Not even seeing you dance, seemingly without a care in the world, could shake him out of it.

What he didn’t know was that you were trying your best to push your thoughts out of your head. Hoping that the music, your friends, and the crowd would distract you from the fact that you're still thinking about your head laying on Tyson’s bare chest, and how nice it felt, and how much you wanted to feel it again. When Rachel comes over and holds a shot out for you, you subtly give it to one of the guys, because so far the alcohol had only made you think about Tyson more. About how you missed the feeling of running your fingers through his hair, your hands itching to go over and just brush it away from his forehead so you could wipe the pout off of his face - but you don’t.

The Bar calls for last orders and you decide to call it a night, everyone filing into separate cars to find their way home. The girls still had their stuff at your place and they were determined to get it now before going home, so Tyson took the front seat of the Uber while you and the girls sat in the back.

You helped Caroline hold herself up, as you walked through your door. Rachel, claiming she isn’t even that drunk, wobbles as she walks through, earning a laugh from you and Tyson. You send them both to your room to get their stuff as you go to the bathroom. You take in your worn-out makeup and decide to just remove it whilst you’re in there, spending a little extra time making sure to get every bit off, brushing your teeth as well.

When you walk out, you find Tyson on the couch, studying his hands. His head shoots up when he hears you come in, “I think you have a bit of a problem” he scratches his neck. “What do you mean?” you furrow your brows and he jerks his head towards your bedroom door. “It’s suspiciously quiet in there,” he laughs. You walk over and push the door open, a big sigh leaving you as you look inside.

Tyson appears at your side, taking a look of his own at Rachel and Caroline both passed out on top of the covers of your bed. “I’ll go get some water and some aspirin,” he says, squeezing your shoulder before leaving for the kitchen. You follow after to get some water for yourself, drinking the whole glass as Tyson goes to your room to put the water bottles and aspirin on your nightstands, quietly closing the door before joining you back in the kitchen. Tyson pours a glass for himself as well, motioning with his hands as if to ask if you want some more, you nod and hand him your glass, smiling to thank him as he pours you another.

“You can take my bed” - “I guess I’m sleeping on the couch,” you say simultaneously.

“No, don’t be ridiculous, stay in my bed” Tyson urges.

You run all the scenarios through your head - you’ve already shared a bed once now, one more time can’t hurt, can it? And you’ll make sure to stay at your side of the bed this time, crossing your fingers that he keeps a shirt on this time.

“Ok, yeah, sure” you stumble through your words as you finally agree.

The two of you walk towards his room, and as you watch his clothed back in front of you, you think, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he did take his shirt off after all. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you happened to scoot over and rest your head on his chest again. Maybe you could find it in you to stay and savor the feeling in the morning even.

Your train of thought stops as he picks up his pillow, and grabs a blanket, heading towards the door.

“What are you doing?” you ask urgently.

“I’m taking the couch?”

“What- Why?”

“You’re taking my bed?”

“Oh.”

You pause, feeling disappointed, trying your best to find a casual way to ask him to stay. “Don’t be ridiculous” you throw his words back at him - “we’ll both sleep in your bed, it’s not like we haven’t done it before” you try to joke. Yeah, because that went well, you can imagine him thinking.

Tyson couldn’t get a read on you right now, usually, he had no problem seeing your intentions. But after having you avoid him all night to then hear you say he could stay with you- he didn’t know what was going on in your head. “Our couch might be comfy for naps-” you say and he can’t help the thought that pops into his head. That’s only because you’re there, running your fingers through my hair. “-but I’m not letting you sleep there a whole night” you finish.

“Alright,” He gives in, throwing the blanket back where it was earlier, walking back to the bed to put his pillow back on his side. You can’t contain your smile, biting your lip to cover it up, as he heads towards the bathroom. You quickly realize you don’t have any of your sleepwear in his room though, and by the time he comes back, you’re still stood awkwardly next to his bed. He looks you up and down, this time he can read you clearly though, going to grab a t-shirt from one of his drawers to give to you. “Here, have this” he can’t help the blush that creeps up on his cheeks at the thought of you in his bed wearing his t-shirt.

“Thanks” you murmur as he turns his back for you to change. You watch him for a moment before turning around yourself, quickly peeling off your outfit and pulling his t-shirt over your head. The fit of it was long on you, the hem brushing across the middle of your thighs. You’d seen him wear it a couple of times, it was a loose fit on him. You hesitate a little before turning yourself back around, just in time to see Tyson adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants, his now bare back facing you. Your cheeks flush with warmth and you rush under the covers, hiding your face in his pillow.

“Good night” he speaks softly before turning off the lights, a dim light from outside illuminates him as you turn your head.

“G’night”

The sounds of the two of you adjusting under the covers fills the room, followed by your breathing. Through the silence you’re hyper-aware of all the little sounds as he keeps turning every once in a while - he’s no doubt still awake. He lets out a big sigh, shuffling around one more time before whispering your name.

You hum to let him know you’re awake.

“Is it just me or did you avoid me tonight?”

You close your eyes tight, wanting nothing more than to disappear under the covers. He whispers your name again as if to check if you’re still awake.

“Yeah,” you admit shamefully. before he can ask you try to explain “I- It was just a little weird this morning” you cringe at yourself. That didn’t come out the way you wanted it to.

“Oh,” you hear the defeat in his voice, “I’m sorry if I overstepped a boundary, I just-”

“No, don’t worry” you rush to interrupt but you’re not sure he hears you.

“-I was just really comfortable and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,”

“Tyson” you speak a little louder this time and he stops his rambling. “I- weird’s not the right word, it was... unfamiliar” you take a breath to work up the courage to admit to him what you’d been trying to avoid all day. “I was comfortable too, it was- I liked it”

“Yeah?” you can hear his smile

“Yeah.”

He clears his throat as he adjusts again, and you finally look over at him, now that your eyes have adjusted to the darkness you can see him more clearly. A few curls are covering his forehead and you grip the t-shirt to anchor your hands from drifting over to brush them away.

“I liked it too” he’s thankful for the dark hiding his blush, feeling like a teenager finally admitting a crush. Though this admission is only scratching the surface, he knew J.T. was right about one thing - he’d been hiding his feelings from you for a while now. And here you are giving him a crumb of reciprocation that’ll feed his daydreams for weeks to come.

His mind goes blank though as he feels your hand on his forehead, the temptation had taken over, and after that one touch you can’t hold yourself back. Shuffling closer just like you did the night before, your head finds that perfect spot on his chest as his arm wraps around you. You’ve almost drifted off into sleep when you feel his lips on the top of your head before he sinks into the mattress himself.

To be continued…

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #op:w

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jiggyloveshockey · 5 years ago

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NHL conference calls I would actually like to see:

- Sidney Crosby, Alex Ovechkin and Evgeni Malkin (starts civil and ends with Ovi and Malkin bitching at each other in Russian while Sid makes nervous yet polite chit chat with the moderator)

- Tyler Seguin, Tyson Barrie and a shirtless Laurent Brossoit (I call it “two bisexual disasters and a hottie”)

- Freddie Andersen, Carey Price and Nicklas Backstrom (it’s a ten minute silent staredown and then they all log off at the same time)

- Mitch Marner, Tyson Jost, Elias Pettersson and a slideshow of cute puppies (for when everything is terrible)

- Braden Holtby, his guitar and a romantic sunset in the background (for when everything continues to be terrible, but you’re also horny)

- Travis Konecny, Nolan Patrick, Brad Marchand and Jamie Benn (you think they are bitchy on RuPaul’s Drag Race? Hahaha, fasten your seatbelts! This is the motherload of pettiness. Welcome to the thunderdome!)

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typical-simplelove · 4 years ago

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Request: 2 with Tyson Jost if possible?

2. I love seeing you smile.

A/n: this wasn't showing up in the tags, so I'm reposting in hopes that it indeed shows up in the tags this time. Thank you to @glassdanse for letting me know!

Taglist: @goalision @coffee-ontherocks @glassdanse @barzal-burakovsky @petey-patty (Do you want to be tagged in my fics? Fill out this form.)

“Hi, hi, aren’t you cute?” Tyson cooed to your daughter. She was sitting in her highchair waiting for Tyson to put her meal on the tray on her highchair. Tyson was giving you a break for the day. Having a toddler running around and being pregnant with your second child, you got exhausted often and just wanted to sleep.

Tyson put the baby cereal on the tray with a bottle of milk. As much as you loved Tyson, sometimes it was easier for you to be in the kitchen with him, too, because Tyson was very clumsy in the kitchen. This was true for this morning. Tyson tried his hardest to be quiet for you, but he dropped his fork and plate which landed with a loud thud.

Your daughter began to laugh hysterically and loudly at her dad messing up. “No, no, shhhh, you’re going to wake momma,” Tyson tries to silence your daughter. It didn’t work, though. You weren’t a heavy sleeper especially now because of the aches and pains that came with pregnancy. You sat in your bed for a few minutes trying to see if now was the time to go into the kitchen. When Tyson dropped another kitchen utensil, you felt it best to go and aid Tyson.

You creep into the kitchen slowly and stop at the entrance. You lean on the side and watch Tyson eat breakfast with your daughter. They both had yet to notice that you were watching them. You looked on with a smile on your face as Tyson and your daughter laughed along together playfully. Tyson got up to get your daughter more cereal. With Tyson no longer blocking your daughter’s view of you, she noticed you. A large smile broke out on her face and loud giggles followed. Tyson had yet to notice that you were standing there.

“What are you giggling about, Miss Jost?” he asks in a cute baby voice. When she continues to giggle and look in your direction, Tyson turns around and sees you standing there. Your smile widens after looking at your husband, who was shirtless, eating with your daughter. “Oh, momma’s standing there.”

“Momma is indeed standing there,” you reply. You walk over to Tyson and place a kiss on his forehead. He responds by kissing your 6 month pregnant bump. You walk over to your daughter and place loads of kisses on her face who just giggles and laughs in response. Your smile, if possible, grows wider at the current interaction.

You walk into the fridge to grab some apple juice to drink while eating breakfast. You pour it into a glass and sit down next to Tyson. You look up from the glass and notice him looking at you. “What?” you ask.

“I love seeing you smile,” he says to you. “The giant smile because of our family mixed with your pregnancy glow? You’re gorgeous. Wow, I am the luckiest man on this planet. I have the most beautiful wife and the most amazing baby girl and a new baby on the way.”

“Mm,” you say. “We really are lucky, aren’t we?”

“We truly are the luckiest,” Tyson tells you. “And we’re only going to get more lucky when we meet the new one soon.”

You couldn’t wait for a new one to be running around.

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost fic #nhl writing #Claudia writes

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toplinetommy · 4 years ago

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The Colorado Avalanche playing football on their day off - via NHL on twitter ft a very shirtless tyson jost

#dont talk to me anytime soon bc this will be all i think about #for the foreseeable future #his back? gorgeous #the catch? hot #baby boy #ugh i just love him!!#tyson jost #Colorado Avalanche #avalanche #gabe landeskog #cale makar

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hattywatch · 4 years ago

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T. Jost - Dog Day Afternoon

A/N: No one asked for this. It’s just a small meet-cute. It’s been a while, be gentle!

“Nooo. No!” A gentle tug on the leash brings the labradoodle back to your side, “We do not poop on lawns in this neighborhood, mister!” You’d be absolutely mortified to be caught bagging up poop off of the pristinely manicured lawns in this community, so you bend down and give Cooper a satisfying scratch behind his ear and let him gently tug you towards the end of the block.

He’s one of your favorites, so well behaved and affectionate when you visit him. His humans are out of town for the weekend, and you stop by a few times a day to exercise him and give him his meals. If someone had asked you when you were in high school if you saw yourself picking up after people’s dogs to pay your bills you’d be confused to say the least. But, the fact of the matter is you’ve opened your own business with five girls working for you, and you rarely have to deal with humans on the day-to-day, so it’s actually kind of a blessing in disguise.

This particular gated community has been your bread and butter as of late, full of well-to-do families who don’t take vacations, they holiday. It’s a marked difference. They’d pay anything to have their treasured pet pampered in their own home and not stuffed into some grimey kennel with 20 other dogs. The best part is they all talk, so you’ve been able to turn 1 client into 15 in only a month. Cooper was the one that started it all.

You’re nearing the end of the block, coming up on the grassy park that caps the cul-de-sac when Cooper finds a street sign to relieve himself on. You have one headphone in, so you don’t quite hear the heavy footfalls before you see the men jogging up beside you.

The blond one is broad and shirtless, he looks like Thor incarnate. His running partner is younger, with curly hair and biceps that strain the sleeves of his t-shirt, which is damp with sweat. Of course, it’s at this time Cooper finds a patch of grass to poop on and you wish you could throw yourself into the picturesque lake to your right as you start unrolling the bags you keep in your pocket. The men smile as they pass though, everyone in this town is polite to a fault.

______

Three days later you haven’t given them much of a second though.

Today you have Daisy, whose dainty name would be more fitting on a dog half her size. The dopey husky can hardly control her own body, tail smacking against you as you try to get her harness on before you lead her through the streets which are starting to become familiar.

Daisy lives 5 doors down from Cooper, and it really is so convenient, allowing you to maximize your profit with minimal travel time. She’s still being leash trained, so you grab a handful of treats and shove them into your pocket and hope that “heel” is something she can be coerced to learn. Today you wind your way past the park, up and down the curving streets, intent on this being a “walk,” not a “pull,” like Daisy seems to prefer.

You pass your favorite house, stark white with a red door and a blooming rose bush on either corner of a wrap around porch. The porch swing is occupied by a pretty blonde woman holding a small baby. She looks up as Daisy barks and you smile and give an apologetic wave. The woman smiles back and you see the beautiful, blond man from the other day hop out of the truck in the driveway.

He smiles and waves at you as well before walking up to the porch and kissing his wife and baby, sitting down next to her on the swing.

It warms you up to your toes to see that this couple isn’t too jaded by the beautiful home they have and the affluent community they live in to enjoy the little things.

Daisy barks again and you see that she’s making herself at home at the edge of their driveway, and you grimace before grabbing the bags from your back pocket. The couple doesn’t seem to mind and gives you another wave when you pass by, intent on getting Daisy back to her house so you could move onto the next client.

______

On Sunday, your only day off, one of your girls calls in sick, so you throw on some leggings and flip-flops and drive over to walk a fluffy pomeranian named Precious.

She’s a demon.

She’s yippy and aggressive from the moment you walk in the door. She can, however, be plied with treats, so you arm yourself with a handful and hope you can tire her out so she’ll be easily swayed back into her crate without too much chaos.

She lives across the street from that white house with the red door you love so much, so at least that’s one plus on Precious’ side. You get to admire the home from close up. Making your way down the walkway trying to control the spawn of dog-satan, you catch a glimpse of a shiny new jeep parked outside.

The driver looks familiar, he’s handsome… And he’s staring right at you, which is awkward, as you’re pretty much still in pajamas and Precious has not stopped her shrill yapping since she’s been put on her leash.

“Hey there,” he’s not talking so much to you as he is talking to the ball of fluff dragging you down the walk.

“Oh, I wouldn’t pet her, she’s a bit cranky this morning,” you tell him while he’s mid-squat. He shoots back up and smiles and you finally recognize him. The curly haired friend who was running with the blond from earlier in the week. He’s more handsome up close and it’s making you a little antsy.

He laughs and it suits his boyish face, “Fair enough, I’m pretty crabby when I have to wake up early on the weekend too.” You smile and try to pull Precious closer to you, lest she start nipping at his ankles.

The red front door across the street opens, and that golden couple steps onto the porch. They wave at you and you wave back, smiling tightly, a little uncomfortable trying to pay attention to the beautiful man in front of you and the little fluffy ball of rage between you.

When he notices you waving, he looks over his shoulder and waves ridiculously back to them as well, a big goofy grin splitting his face, “Is it okay that I park here? I can move if it’s not.”

“No, no, go ahead. No problem at all,” you smile genuinely this time. He says thank you and holds his hand out, “Tyson, by the way. I’m Gabe’s friend,” he thumbs over his shoulder at who you assume to be Gabe.

Still nodding, you give him your name in return before blurting, “Yeah, I think I’ve seen you around here before,” before you can shut your stupid mouth and he smiles impossibly bigger.

Gabe, who you have identified as the blond dad from the house across the street helps you save face when he shouts, “Tyson, c’mon we’re going to be late,” as he remote starts his truck from the front door, bouncing his tiny baby on his hip.

Tyson ducks his head at being called out and smiles one last time before waving and heading to a waiting Gabe, “See you two around.”

Gabe gives you a big grin as he backs out of his driveway and passes you and Precious, still huffing at your feet at the delay in her walk. You walk her the opposite way they drove off in, not trying to encounter any more broad chests and pretty faces before you’ve had your morning coffee.

______

Friday is a busier day, you have 6 walks back to back in your new area, plenty of families going on a long weekend trip for memorial day weekend. You start your day off with Cooper, followed up by Daisy. They’re getting used to their routes with you and their walks are enjoyable. The next four are with Rocky, Lucy, Maggie, and Duke who are all newer clients.

You’re up to Lucy when you pass Gabe’s house for the first time. There’s music coming from the yard and a few extra cars line the sidewalk, so you assume he’s hosting a party. If you look for a familiar, shiny jeep who could blame you?

It isn’t there though.

You’ve almost forgotten about it by the time you’re walking Duke, a tiny little yorkie who is veritably ancient in dog years. He still has some pep in his step though, and you shuffle through your playlist to find some appropriately happy music for the occasion as you turn a corner.

With your head down, thumb scrolling skillfully through your favorite Spotify playlist, you jump when you hear the sound of a horn. Duke gives a little bark and you look up to see who the offending party is.

Tyson’s body is half out of his window waving, where his car is parked on the corner across the street.

He hops out and walks over to you, peering at Duke with a little confusion.

“You could probably save yourself some time if you walked all of your dogs together. How many do you have?” He laughs and starts squatting down to Duke’s level while looking up at you for permission to pet.

“This one’s friendly, you can pet him,” is what you say, because your brain is starting to lose higher functioning the more his shorts creep up his bent legs, revealing the thick, muscular thighs underneath.

Once given permission, Tyson becomes the equivalent of a floppy golden, all sunshine smiles and praise for Duke. “Who’s a good boy?” he coos as he holds Duke’s head in his big hands, simultaneously rubbing under his chin and the top of his head.

He stands up and turns his smile on you, which makes your stomach swoop a little bit, not that you’d admit it. “You should come to Gabe’s house when you’re done walking all of your dogs. He’s having a little party; he said he invited all the neighbors.”

“That sounds nice,” you begin, knowing you shouldn’t and can’t., “but unfortunately I have some more work to do this evening.”

The smile on Tyson’s face doesn’t falter when he shrugs, “Okay, maybe next time.” He bends down to Duke one last time and uses a higher-pitched sweet voice to say, “See ya, buddy!” before standing up and jogging back over to his idling truck. He hops in and waves before driving back towards Gabe’s house.

Duke looks up at you, unimpressed, “He’s cute," you sigh. The yorkie just wags his tail and tugs you over to a maple tree to do his business.

______

It’s a week later when you’re trying to coax Precious down the driveway that you see the pretty blonde walking towards you smiling with a stroller. You know she’s Gabe’s wife, but she’s waving to you in a way that says she wants to talk and you wind the leash around your hand so Precious doesn’t get any ideas.

“Hi! You’re (y/n) right?” she waits for you to nod and say ‘that’s me’ before continuing, “Oh awesome! I’ve heard so much about you from the neighbors. I’m Mel, I live over there,” she points to the house with the red door that you know to be hers, “We have plans Friday night and we need someone to come and take Zoey out. Would we be able to book you?”

She looks ecstatic to have run into you so you pull your phone out and check your calendar, “Let’s see, I will actually be in the neighborhood around 7, and I’m free around 7:45, does that work for you?”

“Ah! That’s perfect. We’re just so excited, because it’s the first time we’ve been out since the baby,” she beams down at the little girl in the stroller, “Mom and dad need a night out, ya know?” She’s smiling so brightly and she’s so sweet, and you don’t know, but you do get it somehow.

You type her name and address into the calendar on your phone, “I’m sure. You guys totally deserve it, babies are a lot of work!”

Mel laughs, “I had no idea just how much work! But thank you so much for fitting us in. The sitter will be there with her, so just knock and they’ll let you in and show you around,” her eyes are lit up and you’re actually excited to help her get a free night out with her husband, “I’ll text you and just save my number and we can work out all the details. I just have to get her home to feed before she starts fussing! Thank you again.”

She’s a whirlwind when she types your number into her phone with fast thumbs, but she has her timing down, because you can hear the baby starting to whine as she crosses the street to her house, right on schedule.

_____

When Friday comes you finish two walks and end up on the porch of the big white house with the rose bushes flanking it. You knock three times and step back to wait for the sitter to let you in.

Surprisingly enough, Tyson opens the front door.

He’s smiling, like always, with his right eyebrow raised in confusion, bouncing a giggly baby in his arms. She’s in a pink onesie, covered in what looks like mushy carrots, and Tysons white shirt doesn’t look any better.

“We weren’t expecting company, were we, princess?” He nuzzles his cheek across the top of the baby’s peach fuzz head and she squishes her eyes shut, babbling happily.

“I’m not really 'company' perse. I’m just here to walk Zoey,” you rock gently from foot to foot, hoping he’ll let you in and you can get your job done without looking like a total fool.

"Don't you have enough dogs of your own?" He laughs but steps aside to let you through the front door, the inside of the house is just as nice as the outside.

"Oh. Those aren't mine," you pull a biscuit out of your pocket and click your tongue, trying to coax Zoey out of her hiding spot under the kitchen table. "I'm just the dog walker." Zoey crawls towards you ok her belly, unsure and skittish.

"That's a good girl, c'mon mama." Tyson hands you her leash off of the back of a kitchen chair and you can feel his eyes on you as you snap her harness together.

He nods, bouncing foot to foot, keeping the baby happy, "That makes more sense. I thought you had like, 6 dogs. Gabe told me I was an idiot." You look up and his face flames, luckily the baby chooses that very second to spit up onto the burp cloth slung over his shoulder.

"Oh no, baby girl," he coos at the infant, rubbing her back soothingly. "I'm going to take care of this, don't leave without saying goodbye," he winks and walks through the kitchen, leaving you in a whirlwind, Zoey whining at your feet.

"Let's go girl."

_____

If you didn't know better, you think, as Zoey noses along the bushes down the block, distinctly uninterested in doing anything at all, you'd think you were being set up. Except you don't really know better.

You think back to the mischievous glint in Mel's eye was she stopped you for your number and Tyson's surprised face when you showed up, apparently unannounced, at the door.

The more you think about it the more flustered you get, not dressed to woo a potential suitor, and more likely than not, coming back with a bag full of Zoey's poop isn't really the way you prefer to meet men.

You dig into your pocket for some chapstick and maybe stop in front of a tinted car window in an attempt to curtail your hair into something halfway cute. It's a lost cause.

Zoey walks listlessly at your side, she's well behaved, but clearly has no business to do, so you head back to Mel and Gabe's house. She looks excited as you make your way up the porch steps and barks at the front door.

Tyson steps outside and shushes her softly. "Shh girl, please. I just got the baby to sleep."

"Do you want me to bring her into the back until she calms down enough to go inside?" You wrap the leash around your hand and pat the top of Zoey's head.

"Nah," he pulls the baby monitor out of his back pocket, "I was going to sit on the porch for a little anyway, it's nice out. Want some coffee?"

You say okay and sit on the porch swing waiting for Tyson, not entirely sure how life has led you to this moment on the pretty wrap-around porch of the house with the red door.

He comes back out and shuts the door quietly behind him before handing you a cup and sitting next to you on the swing. You're quiet for a pause, but then you giggle into your mug.

"Did you really think all those dogs were mine?" Tyson looks up at you, smiling goofily back over his own mug.

"Yeah, I totally did. Told Gabe I was going to see if his pretty neighbor needed help walking all of her dogs. Mel finally figured out it was you and they had a good laugh at my expense." His feet are solid on the porch rocking you back and forth while Zoey dozes in front of you.

Your ears warm at the compliment. "Thanks."

"I don't have a dog or anything, but maybe I could get your number in case I wanted company for a walk? What's your schedule look like?" You let your leg slide towards his on the swing so your knees knock.

Smiling and pulling your phone out of your pocket, you hand it over, "I think I could squeeze you in."

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #writing #avalanche fic #avalanche imagine #i just really think josty is so cute

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afuturemilf · 3 years ago

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hockey content

PIT vs NYI nov. 1, 2018

islanders mic'd up sept. 3, 2020

training camp jan. 9, 2021

media availability may 28, 2021

head empty, no thoughts jun. 8, 2021

islanders @ lightning - semifinals, game 2 | jun. 15, 2021

barzal: practice availability | jun. 18, 2021

TBL @ NYI G.6 R.3 SCP | jun. 23, 2021

barzal & lee media availability | jun. 27, 2021

the mixer | 2021 us open sept. 4, 2021

mathew barzal has 3 moods and that's it oct. 4, 2021

mat expressing his disagreement about penalty oct. 14, 2021

“that’s all you, all you baby” oct. 24, 2021

nhl 2020 all star fastest skater everyone oct. 24, 2021

islanders @ predators | oct. 30, 2021

sunday nov. 7, 2021

mat barzal intermission interview nov. 7, 2021

rangers @ islanders | nov. 24, 2021

when your man and you both look 🔥 mar. 18, 2018

pre-game: beau and barzy mar. 20, 2018

TBL @ NYI - Semifinals, Game 6 | jun. 23, 2021

stars of the game jun. 23, 2021

barzy waiting for beau before heading to the ice! oct. 5, 2021

“take your shirt off, lets go!” sept. 6, 2018

training camp jan. 6, 2021

tit for tat feb. 28, 2021

phi vs nyi apr. 3, 2021

anthony beauvillier postgame interview may 1, 2021

anthony beauvillier: NYI @ NSH oct. 30, 2021

nyi @ tbl nov. 15, 2021

anders lee: NYI v. TBL: intermission sept. 17, 2020

flames off the ice sept. 12, 2018

tkachuk, president of fan club aug. 1, 2020

cgy v edm ; apr. 29, 2021

matthew drawing a penalty and swan diving nov. 2, 2021

pregame media availability stars @ flames nov. 4, 2021

matthew tkachuk: cgy v ott ; nov. 14, 2021

tyler seguin is honest and a model nhl player oct. 9, 2015

tyler in a beanie mar. 15, 2018

PHIvsDAL mar. 27, 2018

one track mind Segs really wanted the t-shirt cannon mar. 31, 2018

preseason: post-game with Tyler Seguin | sept. 29, 2021

more shirtless segs nov. 13, 2021

“let’s go 400!” nov. 27, 2021

nsh @ col nov. 7, 2019

col vs. min | apr. 7, 2021

tyson jost gets a suprise on zoom june 1, 2021

it all started with that damn smile sept. 30, 2021

same mikko, same oct. 16, 2021

TYSON I CANT DO THIS RIGHT NOW nov. 12, 2021

tyson jost media availability nov. 21, 2021

hulu has live sports again aug. 28, 2020

off day: crosby feb. 19, 2021

sid isn’t the “we have food at home” dad mar. 1, 2021

slutty sid may 21, 2021

crosby via penguins twitter oct. 19, 2021

timbits of wisdom nov. 8, 2021

pens vs caps nov. 14, 2021

pens vs jets nov. 22, 2021

out of context hockey: auston & freddie apr. 8, 2020

#hockey content

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burkymakar · 5 years ago

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Tyson Jost Imagine: Collide (Part Four)

Summary: Tyson invites you on the family trip to a lake house, and you’re forced to confront some very uncertain truths.

Rating: T (language)

Word Count: ~6.8k

Parts: Prologue, Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall

BLM Resources

(gif credit: @samgirard)

The first month of summer, after the Avs unfortunately don’t win the Cup, you spend it alone in Vancouver. Tyson Jost went back home to St. Albert with his mom and Kacey. And he didn’t need a nanny since he was going back to being a dad full time.

He offered to let you stay at his apartment in Denver but all the friends you made on the team were going to places all over the world.

So you go back to Vancouver, even though Denver feels more home than Vancouver ever did.

You hang out with friends at some of their apartments. Your college roommate, one of the best people in your life, lets you stay at her place since she started dating her roommate and they now share the other bedroom. You can finally pay her rent, which is nice. You also get some money babysitting for your old professors and some of their friends. It’s chill. It’s calm. But you miss the hectic frenzy of hockey. You miss the Avs. You miss LJ.

You miss Tyson.

As you’re sitting alone eating takeout pizza for the billionth time, you get a text from Tyson, asking if he can FaceTime.

You frantically wipe your face and change into a presentable shirt. You’re halfway through putting on makeup when you wonder, wait... why are you doing this?

For professionalism, you decide, even though there’s a niggling feeling underneath of wanting to impress him after having gone so long without seeing him.

Swiping on some mascara, you text back “sure, I’m free now.” And he immediately calls you.

“Hey,” He says as soon as it connects. You can see his bare shoulders, and you know he’s Facetiming you shirtless. You’d seen him fully shirtless before, but it’s been so long that the hint hits a bit harder.

“Hi,” You say, trying to focus. “How are you? How’s LJ?”

“She’s doing well, liking the outdoors,” Tyson says. He’s grinning at you. “My mom and Kace like having her back. Lots of family time now.”

“That’s so good,” You smile. “How does LJ like Canada? Is she excited to be back?”

“I don’t think she remembered it much, to be honest with you,” He laughs. “So it’s kind of like she’s seeing it all again for the first time. Fun to see it through her eyes.”

“I bet.”

“What have you been doing?”

The answer nothing seems to not be the best choice. “I’ve been hanging out with friends, been babysitting for some professors,” You say. “Finding things to keep busy.”

“Oh, I was gonna ask... I mean, if you’re busy-”

“I’m not busy,” You’re quick to say. Too quick. “I mean, it’s just gigs, nothing permanent. What were you going to ask?”

He perks up a little, “I was wondering if you wanted to join me and the family in St. Albert. We’re getting a cottage on a lake for three weeks, and I thought you’d like to come.”

You take a moment, touched at the invite. You’d love nothing more than to go, but something holds you back. You don’t know what that thing is though.

You smile but you hesitate, but Kacey jumps into frame, knocking into Tyson. “Y/N please you have to come! It’s been too long since I’ve seen you!”

“I’d love to see you, Kace,” You say.

“Not me, eh?” Tyson laughs.

“No, you too. And LJ, it’s just-”

“No ‘buts’ or ‘justs’. You have two days to get yourself to St. Albert or I’m flying to get you myself,” Kacey says.

“She’ll do it,” Tyson confirms.

“Well, I’m outnumbered by the Jost siblings.”

“Our mom’s making dinner and LJ is napping, but you’d get the entire Jost fam voting ‘yes’,” He says. “Wait, our grandparents are in Europe but they’d probably want you to come. So that’s six against one.”

“I can’t beat those odds,” You say, relenting. “I’d love to. If you want to have me.”

“We do,” Tyson says. “Send me your flight info, I’ll pick you up.”

“Will do.”

Kacey grins and jumps up and down, “Yay! Girls trip!”

“Hey! I’m still here.”

“And you’ll have fun on our girls trip,” Kacey sticks her tongue out at her brother and dodges his elbow. “Talk to you later, Y/N!”

You immediately get a ticket, you’ve never spent the summer just relaxing. Ever since you were fourteen, you worked each summer, trying to find some way to save up money for savings and for necessities. And now you have savings and can relax. Breathe.

And spend more time with Tyson, LJ and his family.

You pack up the basics, thank your friend for letting you crash, and then fly to Edmonton International Airport.

It’s not as creepy as Denver International Airport, and you’re grateful for that. You text Tyson to let you know your flight got in and that you need his address for the Uber but he texts back “don’t bother”.

Confused, you step out into baggage claim and hear your name be shouted. You see Tyson, holding LJ, Laura, and Kacey all standing together.

Kacey runs to you first, and you hug her tight. She’s so affectionate, it’s so life-affirming. “So good to see you!” She says. “I’m so glad you decided to come.”

“I wasn’t aware I had much choice in the matter,” You joke.

“You didn’t, I’m just being nice,” She says as Tyson and Laura come up, keeping close behind LJ who enthusiastically waddles up to you.

“Y/N!” She cries out. “Up, Y/N! Up!”

You gasp, “You said my name!” You scoop her up and hug her close.

“She’s been practicing,” Tyson says, beaming at you, bringing you in for a quick hug. It’s good that it’s quick, he smells so good that you could almost dive into it. Luckily, LJ provides enough of a barrier as well so you’re not entirely enveloped.

“So nice to see you again,” Laura says, reaching over to squeeze your shoulder. “I’m so glad you could join us.”

“Thank you for having me,” You say. “It’s really sweet of you.”

“C’mon, we’ll get your bags. You okay to keep traveling? If we leave now, we can hit the cottage by nightfall,” Tyson says as he effortlessly pulls out your blue bag, a ratty thing that’s gotten you through years of college and houses in the care system.

“Works for me,” You say. “Let’s go.”

The drive is passed by singing songs and playing trivia games when you still have cell data. Laura knows a lot about old school hockey, but Kacey kills it on TV trivia, but you rock the basic school subjects from all your years of studying. Tyson pretends the reason he loses is because he’s focused on driving, but you all know the truth.

You weren’t sure what to expect at the cottage, but it’s simple but still much larger. Maybe you were expecting a log cabin? Instead, it’s a full house. Three-bedrooms, two baths, a huge kitchen, and lakefront access.

“This is stunning,” You say, taking a moment to look at it.

“I call first bedsies!” Kacey says, running towards the house.

“You can’t do that without bringing a bag!” Tyson shouts, sprinting after her but carrying LJ’s duffel bag.

“They’re still such kids,” Laura says, rolling her eyes, bouncing her granddaughter on her hip. “Is he at least an adult with you?”

“He’s... himself,” You decide to settle on, hoping it doesn’t come across like an insult. There’s something so exuberant about Tyson. He has a luminescent joy, on the ice, with LJ, talking to you. And it’s not naïve but it is sweet. “He’s responsible but I’d never say he’s serious.”

“Sounds like him,” She says. “You’ve been good for him. I don’t get as many frantic calls in the middle of the night anymore.”

“He had a lot to learn really quickly,” You try to tamper down your defensiveness. You know his mother would never say a bad thing, but it irks you deeply if people imply Tyson wasn’t a good father. You almost snapped at a reporter (non-Avalanche affiliated thankfully) who tried to trick Tyson into revealing things but luckily he kept a better head than you. “So, understandable.”

“I’m both jealous and relieved the internet wasn’t around much when Tys and Kace were babies,” She says as you help take bags in. You can hear bickering upstairs. At first, you flinch instinctively at the banter, but then hear the laughter. “There’s so much going on, both life-saving and utter nonsense, I think I’d go nuts.”

“I’m not saying Tyson doesn’t go nuts,” You say with a smile to take the potential sting out of it. “But he tries so it’s sweet and doesn’t drive me nuts. He tries so hard to do everything right.”

“Oh, he’s a try hard, he’s tried so hard at everything,” Laura smiles as LJ mumbles, “Da-da.” She was buzzing all through the car ride but now she’s sleepy, resting against her grandmother’s shoulder. “He wouldn’t be in the NHL if he wasn’t.”

“Must be crazy, seeing him live his dream,” You say, helping put away the groceries you five managed to stop and get. Half of it is insanely healthy stuff, like salmon and sweet potatoes, to help Tyson during the offseason and then more casual foods like chips and cookies.

“Here, I know where things go, you sit with LJ,” Laura hands off the toddler, who thankfully still loves being held, especially when she’s sleepy.

“She’s gonna become such an adventurer,” You say, propping LJ into your lap. “I’m probably going to have to find more museums for her, I think she’s getting bored of the Denver Art Museum, they won’t have a new exhibit for a bit.”

“I like that you take her exploring,” Laura says, putting things in the fridge and in the cupboards. “Tyson told me you took him to Boulder after they lost the Cup.”

You turn your focus to LJ, who’s concerned with the hoodie string on your jacket. It was so hard to see Tyson like that, utterly devastated and depressed.

“I was afraid I was out of line,” You admit. “But I’m glad we went, we had so much fun.”

“I’m glad too, he’s so hard on himself,” Laura sighs. “It’s good to know he’s taken care of.”

“Thanks,” You say, a blush scorching your cheeks. You’re saved from more praise as Tyson and Kacey bound down the stairs.

“Y/N, I got us the best room,” She brags.

“You cheated,” Tyson says. “First bedsies only counts if you have your bag to claim it.”

“You used LJ’s so it doesn’t count.”

“Children,” Laura interjects. “Don’t make Y/N regret coming with us.”

Not likely, this is already the best vacation you’ve had in years. Plus, any time spent with Tyson, Kacey, and LJ is a good time.

Neither Jost sibling looks unrepentant as they apologize. “C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

You follow Kacey up the stairs. “You guys have stayed here before?”

“Two summers ago,” She explains. “Last summer, Tys was too busy with LJ to come up. But this is one of our favorite places. I’m so glad you made it!” She hugs you again.

You hug her and squeeze back. “I’m so excited. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“This was all Tyson’s idea,” She says. “Not that I’m not glad, but he’s the one that was like ‘would it be too weird?’ and I had to talk him into it.”

Interesting, and flattering on all counts.

“There’s Mom’s room, she gets the master. Tyson and LJ will be in the middle room. We’re sharing this one,” Kacey leads the way to the room at the very end. There are two full size beds, with dressers. “They come fully furnished and freshly cleaned by a staff that owns the row of houses. So we don’t have to do a damn thing,” She explains as you touch the covers on the bed. “But the best part is the view.”

She tugs you to the window and you stare agape at lake at sunset. It looks like something out of a movie. The way the setting sun hits the waves while being encompassed by the trees.

“Stunning,” You say. “It’s so cool you get to share this with LJ.”

“Being an aunt is weird,” She says. “But I’m so glad too. I get to be the coolest aunt ever.”

“You certainly are,” You nudge her. “C’mon, we should help your mom get the rest of the bags.”

“Ugh, you’re such a goodie,” Your friend playfully gripes, but follows you back down the stairs.

It’s an amazing first week with Tyson Jost’s family at the lake house. He’s really glad he thought to invite Y/N, because it’s so nice to see you having fun. You get along great with his mom and sister, and you still take care of LJ like you want to and not like it’s a job.

The feelings he’s been battling with keep ebbing and flowing like the waves of the lake, but he keeps them at bay (water puns, he’ll have to text these to JT later). It’s more important that Y/N gets a fun vacation than he gets off.

But the week’s mostly been spent at the house. He’s too afraid to let LJ on the boat, so most of the activities have been stuck inside or right on the water so he’s getting some cabin fever.

He looks up some fun places nearby and sees a mini-golf course with great reviews. LJ might be a bit young but she’ll have fun with the putter and with all the cool courses.

After getting everyone corralled, they all go to Alberta Wild Mini Golf. Tyson picks Avalanche blue for his team, you pick your favorite color, LJ grabs green, Laura grabs pink and Kacey grabs orange.

Kacey has no patience for golf, but she does have the athleticism. Laura has always been pretty athletic, but she’s more focused on LJ, who wants to climb on all the structures and play with all the colorful golf balls. Tyson is pretty good, but none of you are really taking score.

Y/N, though, is utterly terrible.

“I think I can cross pro-golfer off my potential career list,” You say after you knock another ball into the windmill’s blades.

Kacey laughs at you, “Good, I’ll win.”

“Hey, no fair, you got good instincts, you just need practice,” He defends. “Here, can I show you?”

“I doubt it’ll help,” You mutter but nod.

Tyson steps up behind you and gently takes your elbow, “You’re too tense here,” He says. “The putter is like another limb, you gotta just move with it not use it to move.”

“Okay,” You say.

As he wraps an hand around your fingers to ease your grip, he hears MacKinnon’s voice reverberating in his head, show me your golf swing, back when he was on his fucking bullshit from the party.

The thing that sucks is he wasn’t wrong then and he isn’t wrong now.

Ignoring Nate’s mocking words, he focuses on the present. “Just breathe, and you’ll do it.”

“That’s the best you got?” Kacey chirps him from up ahead.

He flips her off so their mom doesn’t see and goes back to Y/N. “You can do this.”

You take a deep breath and you putt the ball.

The two of you watch as the bright gold orb slides between the fans of the windmill. He nearly laughs as it saddles right up to the hole but doesn’t go in.

But you’re so excited, you jump up and down. “That’s the closest I’ve been all game!”

The joy you emanate is infectious, so Tyson cheers like he won a home game and scoops you up in a victory hug.

“Go putt it in,” He says, when he feels his hand slip to the curve of where your back meets your ass on accident and uses it to push you forward gently.

You don’t seem to notice, gently knocking the putt into the hole. “Finally, we can move on,” You say.

“I dunno, I like the windmill, classic,” He says.

You scrunch your nose at his attempt to make you feel better, and they play through the rest of the course.

Laura insists on taking pictures of the five of you, and Tyson really likes one where he’s flanked by you and his sister with LJ around his shoulders and holding up his hair. He posts the picture to his Instagram. There are some questions demanding if Y/N is his girlfriend, but he focuses on the chirps from his teammates.

6erikjohnson6: what’s your handicap for this???? Pls respond

landeskog92: maybe this will help your golf game 🙏

mackinnon29: @landeskog92 might be too late...

jtcompher: hope KC kicked your ass

She did, so he lets his sister respond to that comment as they all grabbed food afterwards, and treated LJ to ice cream. She loved the stuff, but more importantly she loved smearing it all over her face.

It made him feel useful to clean her up and take care of her, and it was nice to do it with his family there.

At lunch, he noticed Y/N start to get quiet, but then LJ had a tantrum because they delayed her nap, so they had to rush back home.

The day got away from him, and it’s late. Kacey and Laura are watching some ridiculous TV show on Netflix and he can’t find Y/N, so Tyson goes to put LJ to bed.

LJ is having a tough time falling asleep, so Tyson just strums melodic nonsense until she falls asleep. He should go to bed himself but he feels restless, so he keeps strumming the guitar hoping he’ll fall asleep in the rocking chair.

He gets up and stretches, making sure LJ really is asleep. Ever since Y/N came back, she’s been sleeping better, and he’s grateful, but he wonders if this makes him a bad father. That he needs your help, and can’t do this as well without you.

Then he remembers his mom, and the fact that she did the lion’s share of the parenting but always could lean on her father. And he loved his grandfather. Maybe there’s asking for help is nothing to be ashamed of.

He sets aside his ukulele against the windowsill and goes to look at the moon above the water. With a deep sigh, he goes to turn to his bed but then sees someone sitting on the deck. From the back, the silhouette looks like Y/N.

Confused, he sneaks out of his room and down the stairs with the baby monitor. The air is humid but cold, thick with the lake water, and he’s glad he’s wearing a long sleeve Avs shirt.

“Hey,” He says as he steps onto the dock.

You don’t turn around but you don’t tell him to fuck off either, so he sits besides you.

You’re wearing a sweatshirt with UBC on it, and your feet dangle above the water.

“Hi,” You say, but your voice sounds off.

He looks at your face and he sees you wipe away tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He wants so badly to reach out to comfort you but something holds him back.

“I-” Your voice catches, and he watches as you try to center yourself. “Today- today was just a bit overwhelming, is all.”

“How so?” He asks. “I’m sorry if we did anything, I know we’re annoying-”

“No, that’s not it all,” You finally turn to him. “Today was amazing, and your family- you’re all so good, thank you.”

He’s so confused as to why you’re crying then, but he remembers advice his mother gave. If a girl is crying and you don’t know why, say nothing. She’ll tell you.

You shiver, or shudder, and he can’t help it, he wraps an arm around you and pulls you close as more tears fall down your face.

“I- I lost my parents ten years ago,” You say. “Drunk driving accident. They didn’t have other family, so I went into the care system.”

“Oh, shit, Y/N,” He starts to say, but has no idea what to offer to that. He’s never met his dad, nor is he that interested, but he can’t imagine life without his mom and he does not want to. So he just rubs your shoulder.

“I’m fine,” You say, but you both know it’s a lie. The tears are a good indicator of that. “It was hard, but I helped with all the younger kids. Older kids don’t really get adopted, you know. So... I bounced around. But I didn’t really have a family.”

He stays silent, and he doesn’t say anything when you sniffle into his shirt. Anything to get you to stop crying.

“And then I met Kacey, and she introduced me to you and LJ, and your mom. You have such an amazing family, Tys. And you just let me visit.”

He wants to say you’re a part of the family, but the feels off. All words feel wrong. He wishes Landy or someone was here, they’d know the words to say.

“And it reminds me of my family trips, and I-” You choke and stop talking for twenty long seconds.

“I’m sorry” is all he can think to say.

You shake your head, pulling away now. “No, I’m so glad I’m here.” He bites back a response, you look absolutely shattered. “But I just need to feel it, you know? The mourning. Then I’ll be okay.”

“We’ll always be here for you, Y/N,” He says. “Do you want to be alone?”

“Can you stay here?” You ask, voice small. “Please?”

Tyson nods, and rubs your shoulder again, adjusting slightly so it’s more comfortable for you. You thankfully don’t cry again, just lean against him and breathe.

You both stay there for a while. So long the sun disappears and the moon rises. You’re so still against him that he wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. And he’s not sure how he’d carry you into the house and up the stairs when you finally stir and sniffle.

“God, this is mortifying,” You say as you pull away.

“If it helps, we could consider us even,” He offers. “I’m not exactly proud of the way I handled myself when we didn’t win the Cup.”

You stare at him. The light of the moon reflecting off the lake is just enough for him to see the sparkle in your eyes. There’s not as much pain there now.

“Thank you, Tys,” is all you say.

He pushes down an urge to kiss your forehead. He’s always hated in the dumb romcoms his sister made him watch where the girl would be sad and the guy would kiss her, so he resists.

“Anytime,” He says. “I should probably check on LJ, wanna come in?”

You shake your head, “I’ll think I’ll stay out here for a bit more. But thanks.”

He nods and leaves you. When he’s at the door, he turns back to check on you. Your hands are now behind you, propping you up on the pier, staring up at the sky. In his hands, he hears LJ give a sleepy little cry, so he turns his back once more and heads upstairs.

Two weeks into the trip, you find some colored pencils and an old sketchbook so you decide to sketch the water as you watch LJ at the beach. She’s playing in the sand, safe from the water, and focused on getting her Kit to find treasure. There’s apparently a legend about a pirate (On a lake? in interior Canada? Yeah okay) but she loves it so you let her look.

You decided to break out your bikini, figuring it’s a great chance to get some tanning in. It’s bright against your skin, and LJ says “princess!” at you, which you all think is how she says “pretty” since Tyson always calls her “pretty as a princess.”

The sketch is mostly done by the time Kacey and Tyson come back from doing a run together, both of them covered in sweat and flushed from the exercise.

It’s genuinely unfair how amazing Tyson looks post-workout. Just the right amount of filthy.

Irritated with yourself and your sex drive, you focus on LJ, and set the book aside.

“Dad’s back!”

“Daddy!” LJ pushes out of the hole she’s dug and runs over to him, tripping into the sand.

“Oh babe!” Tyson immediately panics when she faceplants and dives to her side.

You barely flinch as LJ erupts in a distraught wail. What did Tyson expect?

“Christ,” Kacey says as Tyson’s eyeballs go wide in panic, immediately picking her up.

“Are you okay, baby?”

LJ, a much better communicator since you joined them, can’t articulate a thing since she’s crying so hard and so sharply.

You push off your towel and go to where Tyson and LJ are. You’ve seen this before.

“Oh, Ellie,” You say, pouting. “What hurts?”

She whimpers and points to her nose.

“Do we need to chop it off?” You cock your head.

“Jesus, Y/N-”

You send him a look and he audibly clasps his mouth shut.

“Is it that bad?”

LJ sniffles and shakes her head.

“Are you sure?”

She nods.

“Scary to hit the ground, but you’re okay. And you still got your nose.” You tap her nose gently. She blinks at you. “Wanna show Dad where the treasure is?”

LJ nods and tugs Tyson to the hole.

“Wow, you’re like a baby bomb squad,” Kacey says, kicking off her sneakers. “I’m going for a swim. Wanna join me?”

“Let me finish this sketch then yeah,” You nod and head back to the towel and your sketchbook.

“Very nice work, you could be an archaeologist,” Tyson is saying as you head back, squatting by LJ’s hole. He turns up to you, and for a moment you watch as his eyes flick over your body. “Is archaeologist the right word?”

“It is,” You reassure.

“I get it confused with ‘architect’ sometimes. Why do so many words sound similar?” He asks, almost like he’s babbling.

You smile, “To trip us up.”

“It’s unfair,” He sits next to LJ and digs his fingers through the sand. “What’s that drawing?”

“Oh, it’s the lake,” You turn to show it to him.

“Wow, that’s amazing.”

You try and fail to tamp down your blush, “It’s just a sketch.”

It’s weird but also... no reason to not to show him your art. There’s the undeniable and mortifying ordeal of being known by showing your art to someone, but you didn’t even hesitate to show him your sketchbook.

“And it’s awesome. LJ, look,” He points it out to her.

“Meesem!” She shouts, clapping.

“See, it’s good. It should be in a museum.”

“The most discerning art critic,” You tease.

“And archaeologist,” Tyson says.

“Y/N! I’m bored and I wanna race,” Kacey calls from the water.

“Coming. You got her?”

“I got her, have fun,” Tyson says, and you take off for the water.

Let’s hope it cools you off.

After lunch, you decide to go for a walk, since the temperature’s finally down after a long heat wave. The trees also provide amazing shade, and you notice a missed call from Mel Landeskog.

Ooh, nice reception. You give her a call back.

“Hey Mel! Sorry I missed your call,” You greet. “Is this is a bad time?”

“Nope, it’s perfect, Lin just went down for a nap.”

“How’s she doing?”

“We think she’s gonna start walking soon. Athletic, just like her father,” She gushes for a bit.

“Adorable,” You say. “How are you?”

You both chat about your days and your summers for a bit, since you hadn’t called her since before the trip to the lake house on the phone.

“Where are you? Are you still in Vancouver?”

“No, actually, um, I’m with Tyson and his family at a lake house,” You explain.

“How is it?”

“It’s a lot of fun,” You say then trail off, thinking of how amazing Tyson looked this morning. But then you remembered how he handled you during your mourning breakdown, and how he was so hesitant but he didn’t run away. He stayed with you and comforted you, and made you feel. There was such a duality to him, and it made things so much more confusing. Because if really was a douche, he would have run at the first sign of tears. But no, he stayed.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry?” You bring yourself back to the present.

“I just asked how is it?”

You wince, “Mel, I think I’m screwed.”

“How so? Is it awful up there?” That seems genuinely baffling to her.

You laugh but it’s humorless at your own shit luck. “No, it’s amazing. I just- it’s Tyson.”

“Ohhhh.”

“‘Ohhhh’?” You repeat.

“I knew it,” Her cockiness practically spills over through the phone line. “You like him.”

Tyson, Laura and Kacey were too busy getting lunch settled back at the house and there’s no one around you but you recoil like you’re on display. “Mel!” You berate.

“I knew it!” She laughs. “Oh my god, this is amazing!”

“No, this is awful!” You cover your face with your free hand. “Does everyone know that I like him?”

“I don’t think Tyson does,” She offers. “But Gabe had a feeling, and so did JT. And Nate said something. And Ryan-”

“Oh god,” You sink down to the ground of a trail. “I’m so fucked.”

“You could be,” She says.

You can’t help it, you laugh. “This is serious!”

“So am I! You’re both consenting adults, have fun with him.”

“I’m his nanny,” You point out. “He’s my boss. There are ethical-”

“Okay, then quit.”

“I love this job.”

“Hmm,” She says. “I get it, that’s got to be frustrating. But I guess... what do you want?”

You debate hitting your head into a nearby tree. You instead force yourself to answer the question. “I want to be with him. But what if it goes wrong?”

“That’s the risk you have to take then,” Mel says. “But if it helps? I think he likes you too.”

That is unfathomable to you but she wouldn’t lie to you. But she could be well-meaning but wrong. You sigh.

“Look, I can’t tell you the answer,” She continues. “But you’re smart, you’ll figure it out.”

But you’ve never been smart with the stuff like this.

You thankfully manage to steer the conversation back to Linnea and LJ, something you’re much better about discussing, and then you hang up and promise to call more.

You decide to wait. You’re probably just lonely, and sad. No use rushing into something potentially catastrophic with your boss.

But that night, Tyson builds a big bonfire, and you all roast smores. Laura holds LJ in her lap as she plays with the melted marshmallows between her fingers. Kacey is telling a story about a wild volleyball game, and you pay attention, but your eyes flit over to Tyson.

He looks so beautiful in the fire’s glow as he listens to his sister and laughs, your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest.

And you think you definitely are screwed.

Tyson is so fucked.

The last weekend before you all leave, Kacey and Laura decide to take LJ for a girls’ trip to a nearby hotel with an amazing spa attached.

Tyson wasn’t invited, but he wouldn’t go anyway because he only trusts the Avalanche trainers to take care of him at this point.

But he has very conflicting feelings for the Y/N decides to demure the invitation, letting it be “a Jost girls trip.”

He’s really glad to spend time more with Y/N.

But all alone?

For so long, one of the main things holding him back from making a move was LJ, and now that’s gone for this weekend.

He forces himself to keep the perspective in mind. He’s your boss. You’re probably not interested, you could have any guy.

But you haven’t dated a single person since you’ve been working for him. Has he not been giving you enough time off? Shit.

He gets back from a run and finds you scrambling eggs in the kitchen. You’re wearing an old Avs shirt of his, since the laundry machine broke and you didn’t bring a ton of clothes. You look really good in it, but not as good as you looked wearing an Avs jersey for the game.

“Do you want some?” You ask.

Tyson so starving, so he nods, “Yeah, thanks.”

He sits at the kitchen island on one of the stools and thinks about his realization on the run.

“Do I give you enough time off?”

You look up, “Hmm? What?”

Oh, he kind of mumbled that. So he repeats the question, even though it’s kinda awkward. “Am I overworking you? You can tell me, we can figure it out.”

“Not at all,” You reassure.

“I don’t want to overstep, but I haven’t seen you dating.”

A blush hits your cheeks, and you look cute, but why are you blushing?

“There haven’t been that many people I’ve been interested in,” You admit. “But, um, I’ll let you know.”

A flash of jealousy hits his chest, “Oh, okay. Good.”

Who could you have been interested in? The way you said it meant there was someone, right? Unfortunately (or maybe luckily) he’s distracted from that line of questioning due to the fact you’re nicely handing him a plate for eggs and the conversation shifts.

Food is more important than his love life... For now.

The first day alone passes by quickly and painlessly. He’s afraid it might be awkward, especially after the breakfast conversation, but you two have amazing fun talks after that, and he works out while you sketch on the beach. No uncomfortable silences or fights.

It’s on the second night that things go to hell.

You both pick up food from a Chinese place nearby, and you both are talking while eating, casual and fun.

“You’ve never gone night swimming?” He looks at you incredulously.

You nod, mouth full of noodles. “Never.”

“Did you ever do anything rebellious?” Tyson can’t fathom that, you’re such rule-follower. Not that that’s a bad thing, but just not how he was.

“Not really,” You shrug. “By the time I was going to hit a phase, I was shoved into the care system, and some of the parents were really strict, and I didn’t want to lose my home.”

“Well, I won’t kick you out, ever,” He’s quick to reassure. “So let’s rebel.”

“It’s not rebelling if you tell me to do it.”

“Don’t pull some reverse-psychology shit on me,” He laughs. “C’mon, let’s go swimming, the moon is out, and it’s fun.”

“It’ll be cold!”

“That’s the rebellion part. C’mon, you can swim, eh?”

“Yes, but-”

“Let’s go!” He grabs you by the hand and tugs you outside to the shore. You’re both in pajamas, him in an old workout tee and basketball shorts. If he were braver or creepier, he’d suggest this should be a true rebellion and you should go skinny-dipping but he doesn’t want to make this weird or make you uncomfortable.

You kick off your sneakers and dip your foot in, yelping. “It’s cold!”

“You get used to it,” He assuages, even though it does make him wince as he steps in as well. “You can’t do that if you don’t get in.”

You cross your arms under your shoulders. “I dunno, Tys-”

“I promise it’s fun.”

“I believe you, but it might not be safe.”

“I’ll protect you,” He looks you in the eye. “Promise.”

You hesitate, then repeat, “It’s cold.”

A wicked thought overtakes him, “I know a great way to get over that.”

“What?”

He takes off for you, and it takes you a split second to react with a shriek and run away. He quickly catches you and picks you up into a traditional bridal hold as he carries you through the water until it hits his knees.

“Oh my god, Tyson,” You scramble to make sure you don’t touch the water in his arms. “I will kill you-”

“Welcome to rebellion, Y/N,” is all the warning he gives before he tosses you in.

You hit the water with a splat! and immediately pop up, spluttering and looking like a drowned cat. “It’s freezing!”

“It is,” He agrees and dunks himself. When he emerges, he lets out an invigorated whoop! “Now you’ve gone night swimming.”

“And I’m about to cross ‘homicide’ off the list,” You glare but he tell you’re fighting a smile.

He laughs, “The ultimate rebellion.”

You finally laugh too, and you both start swimming around together, playing a half-assed version of Marco Polo until the cold does really get to be too much and you both leave the lake water.

Dripping wet in the kitchen, Tyson grabs you both towels from the hall closet and you both dry off, still giggling from the adventure.

“That was a lot of fun,” You say. “Thanks for inspiring me to rebel.”

“You’re pretty good at it,” He says, giving you a smile as he studies you. You seem finally relaxed. So often you look tense, or nervous, but you look positively chill. He’s glad he had a hand in it.

Tyson pauses, noticing a leaf at your hairline.

“Oh, let me get that,” He gently brushes it off, stepping close to do it. Your eyes go to his finger, and you lick at your lips.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” He says, throat dry.

And the next thing he knows, the two of you are kissing.

The towels drop to the floor as his hands go to your hips to pull you in close, and your hands do the same with his neck, interlinking into his hair.

It feels like a dam just broke, and now he doesn’t want to stop. He finds the closest surface, the couch, and pulls you on top of him as he hits the cushion.

You’re both wet from the lake, and the clothes are damp but he doesn’t give a shit. You’re on top of him, you’re moaning against his lips, and his hands are on your ass. That’s the important thing.

But the shirts are chafing so he pulls away to yank his own off, and your hands immediately trail to his chest. Your fingers are soft and gentle, but there’s an urgency to the touch that makes his head spin.

“Can I?” He asks, his hands going to the bottom hem of your shirt.

You nod and pull back so he can help your shirt off. You’re in just a bra and your jean shorts, and you look stunning.

Tyson reaches and cups one of your breasts, causing you to moan, and lean into it. He wants the bra off but you didn’t take it off immediately, so he decides to wait. Even though he’s impatient.

Ever so slightly, your hips grind against him so he grips your waist to pull you in. “Beautiful,” He murmurs before kissing you, needing to taste you again.

Then, after either a second or an eternity passes, you pull away, breathless but shaking your head.

“We need to stop.”

His hands drop as he tries to control his own panting. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Something flashes on your face, and it looks like regret and it makes him sink back into the sofa as you step away to sit on the coffee table.

“We can’t do this, Tyson.”

He swallows tightly, and knows he should respond. But he can’t find the words, so he says nothing.

You continue, “I work for you, and I need this job. And I think you need me too. But more importantly, I think LJ might.”

“Yeah,” He says, making sure his eyes don’t drop to your chest. Please, can you put on a shirt it’s so distracting. “I’m sorry.” That seems the best thing to say, which is good because it’s true.

“Don’t be,” You say, and he’s disappointed that you do tug on your shirt. “Really, I was there too. But we just got to chalk it up to... a moment, I guess.”

He nods, “It was a moment. It won’t happen again, Y/N, I promise.”

“Thank you,” You say, but your voice is small and he almost winces. “Um, I might go shower.”

He nods again, but doesn’t say anything.

You look at him like you want him to speak, but he can’t think of anything that won’t sound completely pathetic.

So he lets you escape to the shower, and he just stays on the sofa, head tilted back, and regret coursing through his veins.

Fuck.

Note: thanks for reading! sorry for a bit of a cliffhanger and i need to edit this but i hope you liked it!

#tyson jost imagine #mywriting #nhl imagines #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche #finally!!!!

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