#t. jost

[onlyherefortyson]

sir

[comphy-and-cozy]

A Night in Paris

Pairing: Top Gun pilot!JT Compher x Reader (f) x Top Gun pilot!Tyson Jost

Summary: Anything can happen on a Friday night at the Hard Deck. When you run into some old friends in search of a night to remember, you just might end up getting exactly what you wished for.

Word Count: 10.6K

Author’s Note: I’m… speechless. I’ve labeled other fics as ‘the filthiest thing I’ve ever written’ but this time I mean it. @jostystyles inserted the idea of hockey pilots into my head and I immediately went insane and have been ever since. So, here we are, 10K words of filth later, and I’ve written it for Emmie’s 2.6k challenge! My song was “Bad Habit” by Steve Lacy. Side note: Definitely do not need to be a Top Gun fan to enjoy this!

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Threesome (MFM), alcohol use/mention, kind of a medium burn?, swearing, light objectification of reader, oral sex (m + f receiving), unprotected sex, choking, spitting, swallowing, light degradation/name calling, creampie, absolutely filthy dirty talk.

NHL Masterlist

Friday nights in San Diego aren’t quite as vibrant as in LA, or as posh as in NYC, but there certainly is no shortage of activity on a warm spring evening. 

Confidence flows through you in waves, brewing from the moment you opened up your closet doors in search of the perfect bombshell outfit. A touch of makeup, a good push-up bra, and a few spritzes of your favorite perfume seal the deal. Simply put: you look good, and you know it. 

After the week you’d had, it felt all too good to get dolled up and let loose, determined to unwind. In an ideal world, it’d be at the hands of a beefy naval officer, but you’d accept some free drinks, shitty pickup lines, and the black wand in your nightstand drawer if necessary. Of course, there was no better place to do that than the Hard Deck, crawling with fit naval officers and promises of a night spent horizontal.

Walking through the familiar, creaky wooden doors, you’re engulfed with the background buzz of a Bruce Springsteen song amid the loud chatter of a sea of aviators — a telltale sign of a Friday night in San Diego. The bar is crowded, but not so crowded that you can’t easily sneak through the throng of people, aiming for a section of the bar that looks somewhat less congested. Debauchery and the scent of hops floats through the air, raucous laughter echoing off of the nautical rope and netting hanging from the ceiling.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” a voice sounds from behind you, followed quickly by a low whistle. “God damn.”

You’d know that voice anywhere.

“Jost,” you greet as you turn, far more intrigued by the prospect than you are at getting a drink. If history is to repeat itself, you have a feeling there’ll be one in your hand sooner rather than later; after all, Tyson Jost is a creature of habit. Your eyes flash to the name on his crisp uniform, then glance up to meet his gaze. “Or should I say, Rainbow?”

“Whatever’s easiest to moan when I’ve got you spread out and cryin’ out beneath me.”

You can’t help the amused smile that forms on your face, almost taken aback by his forward nature. Almost, but not quite. 

“Now, now, Rainbow, that’s no way to speak to a lady,” cuts in another deep voice behind him. Your eyes flick to the redhead who flanks his friend, thick auburn mustache resting above his lip. “Hiya, darlin’.”

“Nice to see you, Compher.”

“Pleasure’s always mine,” he replies, smugness oozing from his figure that leans lazily against the wooden beam beside him. His eyes trail shamelessly down your body, admiring the black satin of the lace corset you’re wearing, sheer in all the right places, no doubt admiring what it would look like without the skin-tight jeans you’re wearing.

Tyson scoffs. “You wouldn’t be calling her a lady if you heard the things she’s said to me.”

JT’s eyebrow raises quizzically. “You told me.”

“Kissing and telling, are we, Jost?” 

Shrugging sheepishly, Tyson sends you an apologetic glance. “Sorry, sweetheart. Couldn’t help myself.”

“Considering you two share one single brain cell, I can’t say I’m surprised.” 

“Can you blame me for telling him after last time?” presses the brunette, his tone in disbelief.

You hum, the memory of his lips on your skin and hot words whispered in your ear flashing through your mind, and you resist the urge to shiver. Let’s get weird. “With how good I am with my mouth, no, I can’t say I do.”

Your words take JT by surprise, who coughs mid-sip into his beer. His eyes glitter in your direction as he recovers, intrigued by your cheek. Blinking prettily, you hold his gaze for just long enough to see if he’ll squirm. 

He doesn’t.

“Haven’t seen you here in awhile, sweetheart,” Tyson says, breaking both your eye contact with JT and the moment. 

Your eyes flick to his brown ones, warm like cinnamon. Beside you, you can still feel the heat of JT’s eyes on you, burning against your body where you know his gaze is trailing. “I’ve been busy.”

He ignores your statement, pressing to continue, “S’like you knew we’d be here.”

“You’re always here, Jost.”

He hums, then gestures to you. “So you wore this on purpose, huh? Wanted to grab our attention with this skimpy little thing? You know how much I love you in lace.”

Shrugging, you cast a demure glance over your shoulder at him. “Had a bad week, wanted to find someone to relieve some stress.”

“You have my number, sweetheart,” Tyson winks. “You know I’ll always come when you call. No need to go through the effort to get all dolled up. Though, can’t say I’m complaining.”

It’s almost comical how obvious they’re being, the thinly-veiled puns and innuendos almost acting as foreplay for something you haven’t even agreed to yet. The confidence has always been part of what attracts you to them, their cockiness an unusually appealing trait — because you know that unlike others in their company, their big talk is warranted. And as much as you try to deny it, the confidence sets off the animalistic desire in you. Paired with your stressful week and the night’s unspoken mission to get railed within an inch of your life, you can’t help but feel that fate is intervening, placing two more than viable candidates right in front of you — almost too easy.

With another shrug, you smile back at Tyson. “I thought I’d see who the prospects were. You’re not the only one out there, Jost.”

“But I am the best one.”

“You sure about that?”

“Please,” Tyson scoffs, “take a look around this bar and tell me that any one of these plebeians is gonna show you a better time than me.”

“Who says I don’t want something different?” you ask, eyes flicking briefly to his comrade who definitely notices, smirking in response. Then, shifting the dynamic slightly, you say, “Maybe I want a challenge. Maybe you’re too easy.”

“Too easy? Between the two of us, I’m the one that’s too easy?”

You shrug, accepting what’s meant to be a lighthearted dig as a compliment. “We weren’t debating your preferences.”

JT’s voice cuts through the banter with a cheeky warning to his friend. “Play nice, Rainbow. Everybody knows it’s nice to share your toys.” 

Tyson’s eyes find yours, glittering and velvety, a smirk forming on his face at the innuendo. You can’t help but notice the way your skin heats up at the words, a vague promise of what might come if you choose to accept their advances. He leans forward, close enough to have you catching a waft of his cologne, sandalwood and something else that’s equally intoxicating. He knows the game you’re playing, knows that it is just a game and that you’ll be slipping into his car without complaint before the night is over.

“You’re okay with him joining this time, aren’t you, sweetheart? You told me last time how cute you thought he was.”

“Think I used the word ‘smoke show’, actually,” you retort, letting your eyes trail over JT’s thick thighs. The consent is there, enthusiastic, the subtle invitation out in the open for anyone to take. 

“You wanna get out of here?”

You mock offense, pressing a hand dramatically to your chest. “What kind of woman do you think I am? I’m not going anywhere with you until you buy me a drink like a proper gentleman. Then we can talk.”

“Okay, deal, a drink,” Tyson agrees, amused by your feigned modesty; you know that behind his light eyes he’s reflecting on his last interaction with you, which you recall was far from ladylike. “How about a round of darts? If we win, you come home with us. And if you win…”

“You make me breakfast in the morning,” you finish for him, a wicked smile on your face. There’s no need to place any bet; they know and you know that despite your ‘hard to get’ facade, you’re going home with them at the end of the night. But, you think to yourself, it doesn’t hurt to play the game, right? “I’m talking the works. Not boxed pancake mix and shitty orange juice.”

Tyson glances at his friend, their eyebrows raised at each other in a this is too good to be true shrug. “Deal. Your order, miss?”

“Cosmopolitan. With Grey Goose or Belvedere, Jost, don’t cheap out on me.”

Tyson nods curtly, making a beeline for the bar with his strict orders. In his absence, JT eyes you warmly over the rim of his beer as he takes a long swig, the amber liquid matching the shade of his mustache a little too perfectly. 

“Come sit in my lap, darlin’,” he purrs, extending out a thigh from where he’s leaned back in the wooden chair, scraped from years of use.

You obey, unable to ignore the honey in his voice, slinking out of your seat and closing the small distance between you. His leg is warm against your already warm center as you perch on the firm muscle. An arm slips around your waist under the guise of holding you in place, but it lingers a little too low on your hips to believe it.

“You gonna come home with us tonight?” you feel the ghost of JT’s lips brush over your shoulder blade, feather light, the fringes of his mustache tickling your skin. “Know you know how to handle two at once, don’t you, pretty girl?”

Shifting against his leg, you adjust yourself to accommodate the throb that’s begun in your low abdomen, suddenly scorching hot and needy all over. The rise and fall of his chest behind you has you struggling to breathe, in combination with the way the heat from his hands has your heart fluttering in your chest.

“Have you ever… done… this before? With him?”

A soft chuckle, then a smooth exhale. It’s the first — and only — inkling he’ll get of any nerves, but he appreciates the small glimpse of the real you underneath your confident display. “Shared a girl?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Twice,” he admits. “But never with a girl like you.”

“Which is what, exactly, Tiger?”

He hums. “Different. Captivating.”

“Look at you, Mr. Big Shot who knows how to use a thesaurus.”

His chest rumbles with another chuckle, accepting your jab. It’s incredibly sexy, and, truly, captivating, just like he said, the way you match him step for step, sharp tongue quick to strike back. Instead of engaging in a battle of wits, though, he opts for a different approach.

“Can’t wait to see you all spread out in this lingerie for me,” his voice lowers to a velvety whisper in your ear. “Been dyin’ for a taste of you since the first time I laid eyes on you.” 

If you’re taken aback by his forward nature, you don’t show it. “You have, huh?” 

“Mmhmm. Was so jealous when ‘Bow got to you first. Nearly fucked my fist raw when he told me about how tight you are.”

The crassness of his words have the pulse between your thighs roaring, aching almost uncomfortably at the promise of what’s to come. Around you, the other patrons continue chattering, laughing, bantering, completely oblivious to the filth emerging from the top-of-the-class Lieutenant’s mouth in the corner of the bar. 

“I wish I knew you wanted me,” you murmur, soft, a sharp contrast to the scorching words you’d exchanged up til now. 

“Y’never gave me the time of day, sweetheart.”

You hum quietly, ignoring the way your heart thuds in your throat as you approach unfamiliar territory with JT. He adds, “I always thought you were too good for me. You should’ve made a move.”

“You went off to Singapore.”

He’s quiet for a beat, pondering, or maybe reflecting on his deployment. “Hope you’re not just messing with me.”

At his admission, your confidence is at a high, so you mentally shrug and reply, “Feel between my thighs right now and find out if I am.”

Beneath you, JT shifts — in surprise, or in earnest, you aren’t sure. You hear the sharp intake of breath and the heavy pause as your words sink in.

“That an invitation?”

“Are you accepting?”

JT’s large hand nudges your jaw, turning your head to the side to face him. His eyes examine yours, searching for truth or teasing, ready to accept the latter but hoping it’s the former. “Without question, darlin’.”

For the first time, heat blooms in your cheeks at the sincerity of his words. Shyly, you cast your gaze down to avoid the intensity of his eyes. 

“Y’feel how hard I already am for you?”

He grunts, followed by a deep chuckle when you shift again in his lap, very intentionally brushing your ass against his groin. And yes, you do feel how hard he is, can feel the way he throbs against the material of his uniform. Another shift of your hips grinds you against him, earning a rough squeeze of the side of your thigh.

“Bet you like takin’ it raw in that little cunt, don’t you? Yeah, I bet you do, little slut.”

You shudder, near ready for him to take you on the pool table just a few feet away. As you open your mouth to reply, maybe even suggest it, Tyson approaches. Smoothly, he sets your drink down on the table beside you, then pushes another beer toward his friend before raising his glass in a toast.

“To a night well spent.”

The three glasses clink loudly and there’s a pause as each of you sip your drink, completing the toast and, by extension, the oath that the night will, in fact, be well spent. The vodka burns your throat — Tyson did deliver on his promise with Grey Goose — and you feel the heat settle into your cheeks.

Licking his lips, Tyson’s eyes flick to JT with a nod. “You want to do the honors, Tiger?” 

Slipping off of JT’s lap and feeling instantly cold from the lack of scorching heat, you step aside to let the redhead approach the board, gathering the darts in his hand. With a wink, he easily flicks his wrist, the movement comfortable from years of practice, landing directly in the center of the bullseye. 

All of JT’s hit their mark, and while Tyson isn’t quite as successful, they’ve both made more than decent headway toward hitting zero. 

Taking the handful of darts from Tyson’s extended hand, you approach the faded line of tape in front of the dart board. You can feel the heat of both of their eyes on your ass, surprised there isn’t drool dripping from each of their mouths. With a perfected pout, you glance over at the redhead, who isn’t quite as familiar with your antics as his curly-headed co-pilot. “Comphy, can you help me?”

A smirk tugs at Tyson’s lips, though he stays quiet as JT saunters up to you, all too eager to take a place behind you, pulling your hips against his own as he murmurs instructions on the proper stance. Naturally, you’re a little dramatic, pressing your ass into his hips a little more than you need to, but the hitch in his throat tells you he doesn’t mind. 

“Keep your elbow still, like this, then hinge it to move your forearm,” instructs the redhead, hand pressed gently against your arm. “Release the dart when your wrist is about parallel with your elbow.”

“Like this?”

The expression on JT’s face is priceless when you hit a bullseye, turning to smirk at him.

Tyson guffaws on the barstool beside you, hooting as JT stares in surprise, returning to his beer to nurse his bruised ego.

“Didn’t your co-pilot tell you how he ended paying my tab and a round for the entire bar the first time we met? He tried to hustle me and lost a round of darts.”

“No, he failed to mention that,” JT says with a grimace. 

Shrugging, Tyson sends an apologetic glance in JT’s direction, though all three of you know he isn’t really sorry. 

Your next two throws are successful, right on JT’s heels in scoring. The round carries on, flirtatious despite the now competitive edge to the conversation.

The game slips by amid some chatter and a brief pause for JT to head to the bar for another round of drinks. No one else is even eyeing the dart board, so the three of you are leisurely in your pace, taking your time to soak in the Friday night feeling, enjoying yourselves even if nothing were to progress past casual conversation amongst friends. 

‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ blares through the jukebox in the corner, AC/DC bellowing a harbinger to what is waiting for you after one of you strikes 0 on the scoresheet. Your hips shake to the beat, singing to Tyson and JT into your dart-turned-microphone. They watch you, amused, speechless for once as you perform an impromptu karaoke routine, sure to rub up against each of them albeit briefly.

With a saucy alcohol-infused wink, you line up to throw, the second cosmo causing your dart to hit slightly off your usual target. Your trail behind JT lengthens, but you only smile as you go to collect the darts before handing them off to Tyson.

His next turn puts you in last place, giving JT the opportunity to seal the deal and close out the game on his next turn. Twirling the stem of your drink, you watch as he lines up for his first shot, and you hum thoughtfully.

“What’re you thinking about, pretty girl?” Tyson asks, right on cue.

“Oh, just debating who I want in my throat first.”

JT launches into a choking fit, completely flubbing his toss, the dart landing solidly in the worn wood beside the board. He looks at you darkly, fully aware of your scheme, even more peeved that it worked. With a wink, you allow your eyes to trail blatantly to his groin, imagining all that lies beneath the tan uniform.

“And? What’s the verdict?”

With a smile, you take another sip of your drink. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

JT grimaces, disappointed, though he knew you wouldn’t divulge that information. Not here. Not yet.

Led Zeppelin’s riffs sound from the corner, Tyson eagerly finishing his swig of his drink to offer his hand as ‘Whole Lotta Love’ begins playing. You accept, and before you can process, he’s tugged you into his arms to dance, hands slowing the movement of your hips. To the outside world, it’s harmless, silly dancing fueled by alcohol and a favorite song, but you know better. The heat of his body melds into yours, thickening the already absurd tension in your corner of the bar.

Tyson twists you around so your back is to his front, pulling your hips back against him in a clear invitation to dance on him. Though still conscious that you’re in public, you do, a watered-down version of what you might do if you were back at his place in the privacy of his bedroom. JT’s attention to the board is shot, staring at the way your waist sways against his co-pilot. 

Lips ghost over the skin of your shoulder, not kissing, but teasing, tickling your neck before his mouth lands behind your ear. He sings lowly to the song, accentuating in particular the line, ‘I’m gonna give you every inch of my love.’

Giggling, you push him off of you, though you’d be lying if it didn’t spark a fresh throb between your legs and send a wave of heat to your cheeks. JT’s still staring, eyes roving over the lace on your chest, like he suddenly forgot how to play darts.

Needless to say, he’s more than distracted when he takes his final shot, making your victory within arm’s reach.

“I like French toast,” you taunt. “With raspberries and powdered sugar. A Bellini would be nice, but I’d accept a mimosa, too. You got that?”

JT grumbles, returning to the board to hand you the darts. Your final three shots are enough to pass JT’s low score, solidifying both your lead and your win, and with a cheer, you grab your drink and down the rest in celebration. 

“A well-deserved win,” JT congratulates you, impressed with your tongue and your skill with a dart, even despite the slight impairment from the alcohol. He raises his glass toward you in a mock salute before clinking it with Tyson’s. 

Watching Tyson drain the remainder of his beer, licking the foam off of his upper lip, the air between you suddenly changes, the tension even thicker than it had been before. You swallow thickly, eyes locked with the rich chocolate of his. Anticipation hangs heavily between you, and the invisible surface groans under the weight that JT adds when he sets his drink down with a hopeful smile.

“You about done? Want another round, or want to go home?”

Tyson nods in your direction. “You make the call, sweetheart.”

Your lip slips between your teeth, heart hammering in your chest as your eyes slide from his to JT’s, then back to his. “Take me home, Tyson.”

The brunette nods, his eyes locking wordlessly with his friend. 

“Meet you back at your place. M’gonna close our tab,” JT says, understanding Tyson’s glance. 

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he urges, slipping an arm around your waist as he maneuvers through the crowd.

Outside, without the noisy chatter of the bar, the reality of what will come in the next few hours sinks in. A beachy breeze passes as you step into the parking lot, and you shiver; from the wind, or from the whispered promises of two pilots, you aren’t sure. 

“Are you good?” Tyson asks, pausing as you approach the teal blue Bronco, the color as boisterous as its owner. He’s sensed your nerves, mistaken them for hesitation. “We don’t have to… if you don’t want to.”

The warmth of his body against yours is comforting in more ways than one, cool air licking at your arms, and you blink shyly as you glance up at him. His eyes are amorous, looking deep into your own as he searches for a sign of doubt. He’s caught by surprise when you press up on your toes to place a heated kiss against his mouth, instantly igniting the scorching flame that’s been simmering between you all night. Tyson quickly recovers when both hands land on your hips, pulling you tightly against his body with a low sound, halfway between a growl and a moan.

You allow his tongue to flirt with your bottom lip, accepting his familiar taste, this time stained with a pilsner. Your heart beats heavily in your chest as you murmur, “I want to, Tyson.”

He hums against your lips with a wry smile. “Then get in that car so I can get you home and back into my bed.”

Reaching around you, Tyson opens the passenger door and extends his hand to help you step up into the lifted vehicle. Heat settles into your cheeks and between your legs when he slams the door beside you, jogging around to the front as he hauls himself into the driver’s seat. 

“Are you good to drive?” you ask him, trying to remember how many drinks he’d had. You’d only had the two drinks, but the thrill and buzz of what lies ahead had you feeling all but drunk.

“All good, sweetheart,” he assures you with a smile. “Tiger and I both took it easy. Wanted to make sure we remember every single second of this.”

Nodding, you shiver at the implication, the anticipation once again settling further into your stomach as he pulls out of the parking lot. 

The drive back to his place is familiar, as is his hand that rests on your thigh. Tyson interlaces his fingers with yours, a sweet gesture, when he walks you up the same stone path toward his house, tossing his keys in the same dish by the door. He’s not ceremonious, doesn’t need to be, when he tugs you into his lap after he plops down onto the blue couch in his living room, instantly attaching his lips to yours.

It doesn’t take long for your thighs to find his hips, straddling his lap as you allow the desire that’s been building inside of you all night to lead the way, reveling in the feel of his tongue against yours after so much time. 

Tyson’s hands grip your hips, inhaling sharply against your lips. His mouth makes a wet path down your jaw, finding the place on your neck that makes your knees weak, the spot that hasn’t failed to get you naked in his bed during your last three run-ins with him. As he’s sucking a mark into the flesh, tongue hot against your skin, you hear the front door swing open along with the sound of JT’s voice announcing his arrival.

“Started without me, huh?”

“You were taking too long,” Tyson mumbles against your chest, mouthing at the lace hem of your corset along your breast. 

JT grumbles, something like a, “bet you didn’t even try to wait,” as you hear him kick off his shoes, tossed carelessly against the hardwood floor. He’s not wrong, but you’re amused at the childish disappointment in his voice. 

“Don’t pout, Tiger,” you say, eyes fluttering open to meet JT’s, boring into you. His presence ignites a flutter in your chest, the anticipation that’s been sitting between you all night ready to come to a head. “You want a taste?”

He smirks, nodding, and he steps closer, bending slightly from behind the couch to claim your mouth with his own. The kiss is otherworldly, wings beating in your chest, aided in part by the way that Tyson’s mouth attaches to your nipple. JT tastes of hops with a slight hint of cinnamon, and his lips are plump on your own, slotting perfectly against your mouth. It doesn’t take long for his large hands to find themselves on either side of your face, cupping your jaw posessively while his tongue slips past your lips.

With four large hands on you, you’re in heaven. The two of them massage and grope and squeeze your body, all of it drawing more and more heat between your thighs. You’re pleased to find that they’re both enjoying this as much as you when you place a hand on each of their groins, finding them both already hard and tenting the zipper of their uniforms. The action makes your mouth water, an impatient expectancy coursing through your veins.

It isn’t long before they’re maneuvering you, encouraging you to shift to your hands and knees on the couch. JT sits down beside you, and you glance up at him with wide eyes as your hand eagerly works his zipper down. The redhead aids your movements, lifting his hips and shimmying his jeans off before he helps you tug the waistband of his boxers down, freeing his cock. Your mouth waters, and you lick your lips. He’s beautiful, in every sense of the word, hard and leaking at the tip, and it’s all for you.

Timidly, you wrap your palm around him, hot and heavy in your hand as you stroke him slowly, acclimating to the feeling of him beneath your fingertips. His eyes are warm, watching you with a slow exhale, savoring finally having the feeling of your hands on him.

Tyson, on the other hand, has the zipper of your jeans undone, working the skin tight denim over the curve of your ass before tugging them down your legs. You can feel the heat of his breath on your skin as he drags the material of your panties to the side, painfully slowly, probably to tease himself more than anything else.

“Shit,” he groans. “Almost forgot how pretty this little cunt is.”

“Did you forget how sweet it tastes?” 

“Never,” he shoots back. “Go on, pretty girl, show him that thing you do with your tongue.”

You feel his hand trail up the ridges of your spine, and before you can process, your head is being pushed down onto JT’s cock. Despite the surprise, you still take him eagerly into your mouth. 

He’s thick, pushing past your lips as your head bobs in a rhythm. Your tongue swirls around his head, teasing as you familiarize yourself with his size, and JT groans when you suck on just the tip. It’s a bit lewd, kneeling at his side while your entire sex is laid bare to Tyson, who’s kneeling behind you and kneading the supple flesh of your ass in his large hands. His mouth soon joins, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the insides of your thighs.

“Could eat this sweet pussy for days,” he mumbles against your skin. 

You pull your mouth off of JT’s length for just long enough to quip, “You haven’t even eaten it yet,” before JT’s hand is pushing your head back down. “Didn’t tell you to stop, darlin’. Keep sucking.”

If it was any other man, you’d tell him off in an instant, but the redhead has you under a spell, eager to please and submit to his heady and libertine commands. Obedient, your mouth returns to his length, and you’re rewarded with the feeling of Tyson pressing his tongue flat against your core. 

A muffled moan leaves your throat as he reacquaints himself with your pussy, his tongue delving into the depths, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your lower lips. Your mouth matches his, doing your best to keep your practiced tongue in motion despite the pleasure that Tyson is working on your cunt. 

“Think she likes your dick, Tiger,” Tyson hums against your core, pausing to sink a finger between your soaked folds, groaning at the way you squeeze just one thick digit. “She’s fucking dripping.”

To affirm his observation, you shake your hips and press your mouth further onto JT’s dick, lowering yourself until he’s brushing against the back of your throat with a groan. His hand tangles in your hair, pulling it out of your face so he can watch the way he disappears between your lips. Another time — maybe later tonight, for all you know — you’d like to truly dedicate yourself to worshipping him the way he deserves, intimately learning every single inch and curve of his cock, but you’re distracted when Tyson adds another finger to your aching hole, the stretch drawing a strangled moan against JT’s length.

“Jesus fuck,” JT grits out, head thrown back against the couch cushion. “M’gonna come if you keep doing that, darlin’.”

Fighting against the urge to collapse forward from the way Tyson’s fingers work your cunt, you press up to kiss JT, tongue tangling with his while your hand continues to stroke him attentively. Softly, you murmur against his lips, “Come in my mouth, J. Want to taste you.”

He groans at your request, hips tightening when your hot mouth resumes its sinful work. Tyson, too, is determined to push you over the cliff, his fingers pumping with vigor, aided by his wet tongue. Your own tongue swipes a few more times over the pulsing vein resting just beneath his head, warranting a long groan and a warm explosion against the back of your throat as JT hits his climax, a string of curses under his breath.

You’re rewarded for your work by Tyson pressing his digits deeper, hooking in just the right way to hit your g-spot, and soon you’re following JT into euphoric oblivion, crying out as you do your best to swallow the salty liquid in your mouth amid your orgasm.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” JT groans, watching the way your back inadvertently arches when you come.

“Taste so sweet, like always,” Tyson adds, further accentuating his point when he sticks his wet fingers in his mouth.

JT helps you to sit up, a dopey expression on your face as the dopamine settles into your body.

“Heard how good you were at that,” he winks. “Turns out my co-pilot was right about something for once.”

“You know I’d never lie about something like that,” Tyson says solemnly. It’s only then that you realize he’s still fully clothed, and as you wipe a remaining dribble of cum off of the side of your mouth, you desperately desire to change that.

“Are you gonna take me to bed, or what?”

Your sass earns an amused chuckle from JT, and a sadistic glitter shines in Tyson’s eye as he regards you. Somehow, you know he’s undressing you entirely with his eyes and is envisioning everything he’d like to do to you, and the thought makes your skin hot.

“You know the way, pretty girl,” he says, gesturing with his hands for you to lead the way. You can feel the heat from both of their eyes on you — more specifically, your ass — as you make your way up the stairs and into the door on the left.

The room is the same as the last time you were there, the cluttered desk on your left and dresser along the right wall, a photo of Tyson and JT framed on its surface. His bed is made for once, the knit blanket folded neatly on the end almost enough to make you wonder if a feminine presence had placed it there — if you didn’t know better. 

There’s a brief pause, a beat of silence that’s pregnant with anticipation as you turn to the two of them. Your body is hot, has been hot from the moment they both greeted you at the bar, feeling the all-too-familiar throb between your legs that happens whenever the two of them are in proximity.

“Gotta get this off,” JT breaks the silence by stepping forward, reaching behind you to expertly unhook the clips of your corset, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor and leaving you completely bare in front of them. “Wanna see all of you.”

Heat rises into your cheeks as they both drag their eyes along your bare breasts and over the miles of skin you present for them. Tyson smirks, glancing at his friend who is all but mesmerized at the sight of your naked body. 

“Told you,” he brags, matter-of-fact. “C’mon, princess, want you to ride me.” 

Haphazardly, he tosses the pillows on the bed to the side so he can lay more comfortably on his back. Climbing onto the mattress, you move to straddle him, and his eyes glitter before he’s wagging his finger. “Face Tiger. Don’t want him to miss out on the fun, now, do we?”

Another wave of heat blooms in your cheeks at the sentiment, but you comply with the request, turning around and facing the redhead, who’s still watching you intently. Your legs settle around Tyson’s, sitting back against his erection and savoring the feeling of it pressed up against your ass. JT smirks, eyes trailing slowly down your naked body, unabashedly admiring your curves. Hungry eyes watch your hand grasp Tyson’s length and you shift backwards slightly to line his tip with your core.

Your mouth falls open as you press back onto his cock, eyes fluttering shut as it slips into you inch by inch. You hear JT hum lowly with appreciation when Tyson bottoms out, the neatly trimmed hair at the base of his pelvis tickling your lower lips.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” Tyson rasps from behind you. A pleased smile curls upward on your face, his words encouraging you to move your legs to begin an upward rhythm.

JT’s eyes follow the sway of your breasts, mesmerized by your pebbled nipples. His audience creates an additional stream of desire, tapping into your deepest, most vulgar fantasies of being manhandled, enjoyed in all of your beauty for two — or maybe more — lucky men. 

Tyson’s hands move to grip your hips, aiding your movements as he watches you bounce on his lap. 

“Jesus,” he groans. “This never gets old.”

Determined, you lean forward slightly to simultaneously create a tantalizing view for them each, your breasts pressed together and your ass on full display behind you. While confidence wasn’t always your forte, tonight, you’re glowing, the embers in your belly stoked by the heated coals in JT’s eyes and Tyson’s hands.

“Fuck yeah, baby, ride me,” Tyson mutters, the encouragement enough for you to begin rocking your hips. You begin a slow, hypnotizing rhythm that has Tyson all but salivating as he watches your pussy swallow him whole, engulfed by your tight heat all the while your ass bounces in mesmerizing jiggles.

JT, on the other hand, is enjoying the frontal view of you, watching the lust invade your eyes while your arousal is driven higher with each roll of your hips. He’s tempted to drink the moans that fall from your pretty lips, torn between wanting to stand back to admire the artwork in front of him, and wanting to join the creation himself.

Fortunately for him, it isn’t long before his co-pilot is thinking the same thing.

“Lean back, sweetheart,” Tyson commands you gently. “Let’s give him a better view, yeah?”

Tyson shifts underneath you, tugging you backwards so your back is resting against his chest. His knees beneath your thighs spread your legs wider in a very lewd display, earning a low whistle from the redhead in front of you. His eyes are glued to your center, watching the place where you and Tyson connect. Your cheeks burn, partially from the effort of riding him, but mostly from the heat in JT’s gaze.

“That cunt looks so good stuffed full like that,” he muses. “Can’t wait to put my cock in it.”

“She feels like fuckin’ heaven, Tiger.”

JT grunts, hand moving to leisurely stroke himself, hard again, as he watches his own personal porno unfold before his eyes. Your head spins from the influx of sensations and the heat on your skin, the hands on your waist and the fervor in JT’s eyes nearly enough to set you on fire. Slowly, Tyson punches his hips upward to continue fucking into you, the angle perfect for striking the hot spot deep within your core. You find yourself meeting each of Tyson’s thrusts, desperate for the release his steady rhythm promises.

“Hold still for me for a minute, darlin’,” JT instructs, and your hips falter under his command, pussy fluttering dreamily around Tyson’s length. When JT leans forward to flatten his tongue against your clit, you let out a wail. 

Distinctly, you see him spit on the place where your body connects to Tyson’s, and you moan when you feel the saliva sliding over your lips, coating Tyson’s dick. Beneath you, you feel Tyson begin to pump his hips again, pushing back into you while JT watches the two wet liquids combine into a frothy mixture swallowed greedily by your pussy.

“Tiger — JT, please —”

“You want my tongue back on that clit, pretty girl?”

You nod with a whine as Tyson presses into you with a deep thrust, bottoming out with a groan. He continues his movements, steady, while JT adjusts himself between your legs. He spits again, aiding the already absurd slickness, before his tongue flicks your clit.

“Fuck,” you cry out, the sensation of Tyson inside you paired with JT’s wet tongue almost too much to bear — no vibrator could replicate this feeling. “God, don’t stop.”

“Not God, sweetheart, just Tiger,” he winks at you before his tongue is back on you.

“Shit, keep doing that, Tiger,” Tyson groans beneath you, hands gripping tightly onto your hips. “She’s squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight.” 

“Yeah? You gonna come with Rainbow’s cock inside you and my tongue on this pretty little clit?” JT asks, attention toward you. You’re a sight to behold, he thinks, with your thighs spread and wet pussy swallowing his best friend’s dick, swollen clit dripping with his saliva. 

“Yes, please — please —”

“The lady gets what the lady wants,” he complies, pressing his tongue against you once again. He’s skilled, flicking and sucking with the perfect amount of pressure in tandem with the push of Tyson’s hips, and you come with a resounding cry. Your head falls back as Tyson groans beneath you, holding your waist steady while JT coaxes you through the waves of your orgasm with his tongue.

Dreamily, you blink in your coital haze, unable to stop the movement of your hips, chasing the feeling even as the euphoria slips away almost as quickly as it came.

“Jesus, m’gonna come,” Tyson announces.

“Come inside me, Tyson,” you call with a moan, willing your body to prolong the blissful elation. He feels so good, thrusting beneath you, aided by the slick from your own orgasm. “Please, want you to come.”

JT curses lowly as Tyson lets out a guttural groan when he reaches his own climax, hips stuttering once he’s pressed deep inside you. The warmth of his release splutters against your walls, filling you and earning a soft moan from your lips.

Once Tyson’s caught his breath, his hands grip your hips to gently lift you off of him. Instantly, you can feel a warm glob of cum slipping out of your used cunt, dripping back onto his still-hard dick.

“God fucking damn, what a fucking sight,” JT whistles, squeezing his dick in his palm.

As Tyson shifts out from beneath you, he gently helps you to your back and you sigh contentedly. Your eyes flick to JT’s dick, bobbing freely, and you feel another throb between your thighs, your pussy not ready to be done yet. With a smirk, you spread your legs in a silent invitation.

“Want more already?” he asks, eyes catching your line of sight. His lips curl up into a smirk that matches yours perfectly. “Greedy little whore.”

“You gonna fuck me like one or what?”

The redhead growls at your snark, his big hands gripping your sides to tug you roughly toward the edge of the bed. It’s a display of his physical strength, the military training making it all too easy to manhandle you in a way that has you stifling a moan. With one hand, he holds your thigh open while his other presses the tip of his dick against your opening, collecting all of Tyson’s remaining cum before nudging it back toward your aching hole. 

“Fuckin’ filthy,” he mutters, smearing the liquid over your swollen, already sopping lips. His actions earn a fresh flood of wetness to the exact spot where his dick is caressing, and you preen with desire. Beside him, Tyson’s got a hand wrapped around his own dick that’s twitching with interest again at the sight of his own creation, dribbling between your thighs and catching on the head of his best friend’s cock.

JT teases you, prodding gently at your entrance, barely nudging past your folds even as you arch your back to draw him in. You whine, frustrated, glaring at the way he smirks, refusing to give in to what you want.

“You gonna ask nicely, darlin’?”

“Please, JT, want you to fuck me,” you say sweetly, shifting immediately and batting your lashes. “Want that big cock to fill me up.”

He smirks, enjoying the way you stroke his ego and allowing himself to indulge, listening to your agitated whimpers as he continues to prod at your clit. You watch his eyes drop between your legs again, moving his tip to push the latest bit of cum drooling out of your hole. “All this cum won’t stay in this slutty little cunt. Guess I should help push it back in where it belongs, huh?”

Beside you, Tyson nods hungrily and JT hums briefly, barely allowing you the moment to process before he’s pushing into your tight heat. Your head falls back in relief, quickly drawing a moan from you once JT’s snug inside you.

“Even better than I imagined,” he grunts out through a grimace. “Fuck, you feel good, darlin’.”

“Move, JT,” you sigh, then open your eyes to smile sweetly at him. “Please.”

Tyson chuckles. “So polite.”

“You’re lucky I’m dying to fuck this pussy or else I’d be making you beg for me for hours.”

“Guess it’ll have to wait til next time,” you quip back, closing your knees on his hips as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Not even done and already talking about next time? Greedy girl,” Tyson chirps.

“If you could feel how hard Comphy is inside of me you’d be confident there’ll be a next time too.”

In response to your snark, JT punches his hips forward forcefully, any remaining sass exiting your mouth in a moan. He’s quick to find a brutish rhythm, gripping onto your thighs tightly while his eyes bore into yours. The furious pace is enough to render you speechless, your mouth hanging open as you’re unable to do anything other than take what he’s giving you.

You catch Tyson’s eyes, warm brown of his irises nearly swallowed whole with his lust-blown pupils. His lower lip, now a flushed pink, is tucked between his teeth.

“Do I look good getting fucked like this, T?” you breathe, watching the way his eyes zone in on the way your breasts bounce with each determined thrust.

“Fuck yeah you do, baby,” he groans, stroking himself leisurely. “Look so good takin’ dick like that.” 

JT’s hand floats over your collarbone, grabbing your breast and kneading the supple flesh. “Perfect tits you have.”

“Taste good, too,” you shoot back, craning your neck to look back at Tyson expectantly.

He doesn’t need more encouragement than a quirk of your eyebrow to shift so he can scoot closer and wrap his lips around one of your nipples. You moan as he sucks, the additional stimulation driving you wildly close to your third orgasm of the night as JT holds onto his steady pace.

“JT — fuck, don’t stop, I’m gonna come.”

A smirk blooms beneath the thick mustache, amusement written on his handsome face. “Already? Barely fucked you yet, darlin’.”

“Thought you said you were gonna spoil me.”

Tyson glances up at you from his perch at your chest before reaching around your body, hand gliding over your hip to press his finger against your clit. A loud moan sounds from your throat as he circles it teasingly, returning his mouth to continue his work on your breast. 

“You want to come?” he breathes. 

Before you can even get words out, you’re nodding, tears pricking in your eyes from the buildup of your release. You’re desperate for it, only able to beg. “Please — please.”

“Come, baby,” Tyson murmurs against your chest. “Come all over his cock for me.”

His words are the catalyst for your climax, his permission all you need to let go of the band held tight in your belly. Pleasure shoots through you as your head falls back with a cry. Distantly, through the haze, you can hear a low groan — whether it belongs to JT or Tyson, you aren’t sure. The orgasm pulses through you, even as Tyson removes the pressure of his finger from your clit.

The two pilots admire the sight of you, sprawled on the bed and looking beautifully and thoroughly fucked. Your skin is glowing, hair tousled in that perfect bed head, your eyes lustful as you catch your breath. Groaning softly when JT pulls out, missing him instantly, your eyes close while your heart thumps inside your chest.

Your eyes open when you feel JT nudge the tip of his dick against your face with a cheeky grin. “Gotta clean this up, now, since you made a mess all over it.”

It’s meant to be in jest, a jab at you for your quick reload, but you know he’s more than pleased with himself for making you come so quickly. Biting your lip, you ignore the way your legs shake and move to kneel on the floor in front of him. You allow yourself a moment to admire his dick, glistening with the mixture of yours and Tyson’s cum, and Tyson chuckles beside you. “She’s lookin’ at you like you’re her last meal, man.”

JT responds by carding his fingers through your hair, resting his hand on the back of your head, not pushing, but enough pressure to encourage you to take him into your mouth. With a show, you lick a long stripe up from the base of his dick, collecting some of the cum coating his dick. Tyson whistles when you turn to show him the mixture melting on your tongue before swallowing fully with a moan.

“Yeah? You and me taste pretty good together, don’t we, sweetheart?”

“Why don’t you try for yourself?” you ask, repeating the action to collect another mouthful of cum.

Tyson hums, gripping your jaw to pull your mouth to his, tongue immediately delving between your lips. He groans at the taste, the mixture tangy on his tastebuds, eager for more as he deepens the kiss. Blindly, you reach your hand for JT’s dick, wrapping your fist around it and giving him a stroke while Tyson’s tongue explores your mouth.

“Your hand is nice, but I’m feeling a little deprived here, darlin’,” JT husks beside you. An impatient quip bubbles up in your throat, but Tyson’s mouth is far too tempting to bother. Finally, you tear yourself away from him with one last apologetic kiss and return to your original position in front of JT, looking up at him with your biggest doe eyes.

“What a fuckin’ sight,” he muses, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Always imagined having you on your knees for me.” 

“And what is it that I do on my knees for you in your imagination, baby?” 

His hand returns to the back of your head with a smirk, inching your mouth onto his dick. “Somethin’ just like that.”

Words are no longer necessary as your mouth envelops him. Your tongue runs alongside his shaft, lips wrapped tightly around him while you focus on his head. Now, you think, is your opportunity to blow his mind — literally — and you decide to take advantage of the time and study each inch of him. 

So you do, dragging your tongue down his length, pressing your lips against his hard flesh, savoring the weight of him in your mouth. You explore the sensitive spots, noting which ones make him grunt and twitch in your mouth, throbbing against your tongue. He groans loudly, accompanied by sharp curses from Tyson, when your mouth trails to the base of his dick, dropping to tenderly kiss and lick at his balls. You’d do this for hours, if you could.

“Darlin’, as — fuck — insanely wonderful as you are with that mouth, y’gotta stop. Gotta be inside you.” His voice is deeper, raspy, his pupils blown as he gazes down at you, lips flushed from tucking them between his teeth. 

You smile at him, smug, and send a wink to Tyson, who was enjoying your performance almost as much as his copilot. JT’s large hand reaches for yours to help you up to your feet, and you move to lay back on the bed. He watches, hand stroking himself, aided by your saliva.

“Can you flip over for me, sweetheart? Want to watch this ass bounce on my cock.”

Obediently, you shift to your hands and knees, arching your back in a way you know he’d like. It doesn’t take long for him to line back up with your slit, pushing into you again with a grunt.

“So fuckin’ tight, Bow was right.”

Tyson, taking his cue, smirks down at you, enjoying the blissful expression on your face as you’re stretched around JT’s dick. You feel the curl of his fingers wrap around your jaw and he lowers his voice. “You like that, sweetheart? You like takin’ his dick, huh?” 

“Y- yes —” you wail, stuttering when JT delivers a particularly hard thrust. 

“Yeah? Knew you would, little slut,” he coos. His gaze is hot, eyes ablaze while he licks his lips. You whimper when his thumb trails over your lip, swollen from the kisses and the dicks pushed between them. 

Another whimper leaves your throat when he pushes your head back slightly so that he can spit into your open mouth. It’s warm on your tongue that you stick out to show him, his eyes watching it slide down your throat. JT groans behind you, fingers gripping tightly onto your hips as Tyson leans forward to kiss you again. His tongue is hot against yours, probing your mouth while he pulls the moans from your throat.

“Bet you fuckin’ love being between two big dicks, don’t you?” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips.

Your response is a whimper, all words completely void in your mind. 

“So brain dead for dick she can’t even talk,” JT teases. Again, meant to be a jab, but honestly, he isn’t wrong.

“Yeah? You like being a pretty little slut, taking both of these cocks, don’t you? Spreadin’ these gorgeous legs for us two pilots?”

Tyson’s words are honeyed, sweet, but the way his hand shifts to wrap around your throat as he reclaims your mouth is anything but. The wet sound of Tyson’s tongue in your mouth is overpowered by the slap of JT’s hips against your ass, clapping rhythmically with his powerful thrusts. You already know you’re going to be aching tomorrow, body nearly pushed to the limit of pleasure.

“You ready for another one, sweetheart?” Tyson asks, standing up and wrapping a hand around himself.

Biting your lip, you nod, looking at him desperately. You don’t know if it’s the way JT’s fucking you, or your inhibitions flying out the window, or maybe you really are just a whore, but suddenly you’re desperate to feel him in your mouth.

Tyson shifts onto his knees in front of you, gently slapping your face with his erection, drawing another moan when JT slows his thrusts down to allow you to enjoy the moment. Your eyes look up into Tyson’s, who’s looking down at you like he might eat you alive, and he grunts when your tongue darts out to flick the tip of his dick.

“Open wide, darlin’,” JT coos behind you.

When you reflect on the night later on, you’ll wonder if they really had studied telepathy or if they were just that in sync with each other from years of drills and missions together. Either way, they’re able to read the other’s eyes with ease, anticipating the other’s next step every time. Seamlessly, Tyson follows his cue, pressing his hips forward until your mouth is full and you’re gagging. He takes his time, building up his pace slowly, until the two of them are thrusting in tandem, making you a literal human spit roast, but you don’t mind in the slightest. You feel so full, so complete with both of them in you, and it’s a sensation you’ve never experienced before. The sound of your slick blurs with the wet sound from your mouth, and you lose yourself in the filthy symphony that fills the room. 

It certainly wasn’t what you had in mind when you stepped into the Hard Deck, but with pleasure radiating through your entire body, every nerve and cell in your body buzzing with heat, you can’t bring yourself to complain. 

A slight shift of JT’s hips have you pulling your mouth off of Tyson’s dick to moan loudly, your eyes shutting in a moment of pure bliss. 

“Fuck, Tiger, right there,” you breathe, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the base of Tyson’s cock to allow yourself a brief reprieve from his onslaught of your throat. 

“Ah ah,” JT tsks from behind you, pausing the movement of his hips. You whine, and he slaps your ass in punishment. “I know it feels good, baby, but you gotta keep sucking him, or else you don’t get to come again, okay? If you stop, I stop.”

Your cheeks burn as you glance up at Tyson, who’s smirking far too smugly for your liking. With a motion of his hand, pointing lazily at his own dick, you debate if you should dish out some attitude. But then your pussy throbs around JT, desperate for a release, for him to keep striking the perfect spot deep in your core, and you have no choice. Instead, you opt to roll your eyes, opening your mouth to take Tyson’s length between your lips again. 

“Good girl,” comes the praise from JT, along with another slap of his hand against your ass, this time a reward. “Know you like having that cock in your mouth, don’t you?”

Tyson doesn’t allow you the chance to answer, instead pushing his hips forward to render you effectively speechless, gagging on the dick he’s pressed into your throat. He knows you do, though, by the way you eagerly hinge your jaw to accommodate, blinking away the tears at the blunt intrusion. You can’t help your earnest, hungrily sucking on the smooth skin, tongue admiring the firm appendage. 

“Make him come with that hot little mouth of yours, darlin’,” is JT’s command, voice ragged at the way you feel around him. 

In any other situation, you’d bring a hand up to aid your movements, stroking in unison with your mouth, driving him to insanity. But with the rough way JT is pounding into you, your body can’t hold itself upright on just one arm, so instead you open your mouth wider, jaw aching, with a glance up at Tyson. He takes the hint, pressing a hand to the back of your head as he fucks your mouth, thrusting roughly into your throat the same way he did to your pussy earlier.

Your vision blurs with tears, breathing as steadily as you can to avoid gagging. Soon Tyson’s hand is gripping tightly onto your hair as his hips still with a groan, your lips pressed snugly against the base of his pelvis while he spills into your throat. It’s all you can do not to cough, tears spilling down your cheeks from the effort. Tyson pauses, holding himself in your throat while JT continues to thrust, and it’s the last inch of movement that has you gagging, causing a stream of cum and saliva to spill out of the sides of your mouth. You’re a mess, but you know Tyson wants you like that.

When he finally pulls out, you gasp for air, and Tyson smirks. “God, you look so pretty like this, baby. Turn around and show Tiger.”

Instead of turning, though, JT simply tugs on your hair and pulls you backward, twisting your head with his free hand to kiss you, his hips never faltering in their rhythm. 

He hums, licking his lips at the taste of your saliva and Tyson’s cum. “Gorgeous.”

JT releases you, and you fall forward onto your hands again, bracing yourself against his brutal pace. Tyson catches his best friend’s eye, a silent message sent between the two of them.

“You gonna flood that tight little cunt, Comph?”

He grunts in response, and you turn your head to look at him with pleading eyes. “Please, JT, come in me.”

He responds by gripping your hips tighter, his other hand reaching to press your neck down into the mattress as he adjusts to drape himself over your back, his hips pumping at an even deeper angle that has you moaning. His breath is hot in your ear, panting, and you hear him whisper, “Fuckin’ come for me, sweetheart. Want you to cream all over my cock like a good little whore. Gonna fill up this tight little cunt with my cum. Yeah? Would you like that, baby? Gonna make you fuckin’ mine.”

All you can do is whimper, his filthy monologue filling your brain while the force of his thrusts destroy all other thought. He’s hitting spots you didn’t even know existed in you, the sound of his hips slapping crudely against your ass. 

“J —” is all that leaves your throat, a hoarse whisper before you’re forced to succumb to what has got to be one of the most powerful orgasms of your life. Your limbs go rigid, the force of the release paralyzing you as it rips through your body. 

JT’s hips stutter like he’d barely been hanging on, coming with a shout, pausing deep inside of you. You swear you can feel his cum hitting your insides, warm as it spills into your waiting and eager womb. He’s throbbing against your walls, near enough to send you spiraling into another final euphoric release.

Panting, he slumps against you, and Tyson chuckles observing the scene. Distantly, somewhere miles away, you hear the sound of feet padding on the hardwood floor, the feeling of being alone with JT registering vaguely in your brain. Your body buzzes, vibrating all the way down to your toes.

“Feeling less stressed now, sweetheart?” 

Wincing slightly when JT finally sits up and pulls out of you, you nod blissfully. Your eyes are still closed, brain fuzzy as you process his question. “Yup.”

“Told you we’d show you a good time.” Tyson’s voice. Briefly, you wonder if you imagined him leaving the room or if he’d just returned that quickly. 

“Never doubted you for… a second,” you say, breathless, rolling over with great effort once JT gently taps your hip.

“Tyson drew you a bubble bath, so I’m gonna help you, okay?” he asks. You open your eyes, vision still slightly blurred, to meet his own. All of the previous lust and heat in them has been completely replaced with care and a rich, warm russet. 

“Wh —?”

“He got it going while we were… recovering.” He chuckles, amused at his own choice of words.

“W — why?” 

“Darlin’, as incredibly sexy and hot as all of that —” he nods toward the bed, “— was, we definitely used this gorgeous body for all it’s worth, and you need to rest. You’re going to be sore.”

Oh.

Tyson laughs when you mutter, “Worth it,” against JT’s shoulder when he tucks you into his arms, picking you up. He’s warm and sturdy against you as he carries you to the bathroom, setting you gently into the tub that’s filled with warm, bubbly water and —

“Is that lavender?” you ask, the scent taking a moment to register. “Are you serious, Jost?”

JT snorts, laughing that your first real sentence is a jab at Tyson.

“Essential oils are a godsend when I have a hard time sleeping,” he shrugs from his post leaned against the doorframe. 

You hum, only then realizing as the water soothes your muscles that JT was unfortunately right and that you are, in fact, already sore. The redhead takes your hand delicately in his own, pulling it toward him to press a kiss against your knuckles in a simple gesture that you’re ashamed to admit has your heart melting. “Rest. We’ll check on you in a little bit, okay?”

Tyson offers a smile and a nod before he turns away to head back into his bedroom, mumbling something about finding pajamas. JT stands up with a grunt, placing a lit candle on the edge of the tub by your feet before he, too, turns to leave.

“JT —”

He turns back, holding your gaze, and you try to say everything in your head without saying any words, unable to form a coherent thought even if you wanted to. 

“I know, darlin’. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

Your heart flutters at the thought, and you smile and nod, whispering, “Okay.”

Returning the smile, he goes to close the door, pausing just before he does. With one more glance at you, he adds, “After your homemade french toast.”

[shutth3puckup]

Tyson is very picky on who he likes basically he likes blondes but he’s very picky on features but that ain’t working for him cause he’s still single 💀

Yes! I heard he is very particular on physical appearance and what he likes and that if they aren't thin/fit they basically don't have a shot. He does follow blondes ans brunettes but if it were to come to hooking up/dating he could lean towards a blonde (like most NHL players do😆)

[puckgoss]

william eklund and tyson jost are on raya

unsurprising! ty anon!

[lobo1tomia]

Mit olvastunk mostanában? - a 248. epizód

Az előző évadunk a pöttyös-csíkos könyvek bűvöletében telt, lassan azonban visszatérünk a megszokott műsorsugárzáshoz és a vegyes tematikánkhoz. Első átvezető epizódunk így nem is lehetne más, mint egy rövid(nek szánt) visszatekintés arról, mit olvastunk mostanában. Tartsatok velünk! Friss olvasmányaink Le is töltenéd? Popkult, csajok, satöbbi S11E01 Ahol lehet értékelni is: ITunes…

[laurenairay]

Summer days pass me by - T. Jost

“I feel like I’m stuck, doing the same thing over and over with the same nothing at the end. I need to do something new. Wanna help me make this the best summer ever?”

“You do know that sounds like the start of a coming of age film, right?”

Summary: Mollie Thomas has been friends with Tyson Jost since they were children – but this summer by the lake could change everything.

Warnings: childhood friends to lovers, some bad language, a little angst

Word Count: 9.5k

A/N: I love Tyson Jost so much – this is a super indulgent fic that I started back in August 2020, and it’s been one hell of a journey writing it, including a complete rewrite about 2/3 through. This OC was actually the first one I ever attempted on hockeyblr, although I’ve since written a fair few in stories I've since posted over the years, and she holds a special place in my heart.

This Tyson blurb I wrote in July 2022 is what inspired me to rewrite this story (and thank you @bqstqnbruin for all the encouragement to finish it!).

~

If there was one thing about summer that Mollie Thomas loved the most, it was being by the lake. As soon as the weather was good enough, she would head up there with friends to relax, have barbecues and mess around on the water. Being by the lake simply was the epitome of summer, sunshine and friendship – she’d grown up doing it, her parents trusting her to go alone since the age of 15, and now 10 years later (despite some friends moving away), she still loved nothing more than watching the days roll on by from the lakeshore.

Utter bliss.

Mollie had been teaching history at the local Kelowna high school ever since graduating from the local college three years ago, and when the weather started getting consistently sunny, she even went up to the lake some evenings after work, depending on who was around. But now that the end of the school year was approaching, she would no longer be restricted to the occasional evening after work, and she honestly couldn’t wait.

Why? Because soon one of her best friends would be coming back to Kelowna for the summer. Tyson Jost.

Mollie had known Tyson ever since he’d moved to Kelowna to live with his grandparents when he was 13, his family's house being down the road from Mollie’s family. Her older brother John had been on the same hockey team as Tyson, so he’d always been around – but with John being a couple of years older than them, Tyson and Mollie had become fast friends.

Sure, things had become harder when Tyson had gotten more serious with ice hockey. When Mollie’s brother John had quit playing, choosing to focus on school instead, Mollie had been worried that they wouldn’t want to hang out any more – but that wasn’t the case. Hockey or no hockey, Tyson had always been there for her, and she knew she could count on him for anything.

He was the guy that encouraged her to get out of her comfort zone. He was the guy that turned to her for help asking out his first girlfriend Sarah Cooper. He was the guy that punched her first boyfriend for kissing Jenny Prince behind her back. He was the guy that made her laugh down the phone when college had been stressful. He was the only guy that she would wear another team’s colours for whenever he played against the Canucks. He was the guy that called her with a broken heart when the Avs had traded him. He was the guy that she looked forward to seeing most every summer, and she couldn’t wait to see him this year.

She missed him – who could blame her?

It was a Sunday afternoon, just about to head into the last week of the school year, and Mollie was soaking up the sun by the lake with some of her best friends; Bryony, Louis, Michael, Chase and Allison. There had been other people hanging out with them in the morning, including Mollie’s brother John and his wife Michelle, but the remaining six were the tightest group. So tight, that they’d all chipped in to rent a cottage together this summer, Allison’s uncle owning a couple in the area and offering them first dibs. Naturally, they’d all sprung at the chance of having a summer home base, even if not all of them were there all the time, so Mollie had that to look forward to starting next weekend, the moment that the school year ended. Bryony, Louis and Michael were also teachers, although across various different schools to Mollie, so at least she wouldn’t be the only one up at the cottage during the weekdays.

“Anyone for a refill?”

Mollie turned her head to the camping chair next to her, watching Bryony stand up and wiggle her empty can in the air. Mollie nodded, smiling at her friend, and a few others nodded too. As soon as Bryony walked away, Allison plunked down in the vacated seat, turning to Mollie with a grin.

Allison was probably Mollie’s closest girlfriend in Kelowna – also living on the same street as Mollie’s family – and while the two of them couldn’t have looked more different (Allison a curvaceous insta-airbushed blonde compared to Mollie’s chestnut hair and tomboy runner’s body), Allison had encouraged Mollie to be as confident and friendly as her, and Mollie was forever grateful. Sure, Allison was an incorrigible flirt and flitted between jobs, and sure Mollie had her moments where her anxiety got the better of her – but Allison was as close a friend to her as Tyson was, and Mollie loved that.

Even when Allison’s grin spelled troublemaker, like it did right now as Allison got comfy in Bryony’s vacated chair.

“So you know how my Uncle’s got me helping out with administration for his holiday home rentals this summer, in exchange for us getting our cottage for a lower price?” Allison prompted.

Mollie raised an eyebrow at the glee in her friend’s voice. Whatever it was, clearly she was excited about it – and considering that the cottage had been a good deal, clearly this was good gossip.

“Yeah, I remember…why?” Mollie mused.

“Well, a couple of cottages on this side of the lake have been rented…one of them by someone you know very well…”

Mollie knew her friend meant well, but this cryptic stuff was not helping.

“Out with it, Ally,” Mollie said bluntly.

“Tyson rented the cottage closest to ours for two months,” Allison grinned.

What?

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

“He’s going to be here all summer?” Mollie asked, excited.

“Yep! As far as I’ve heard, Tyson’s got some buddies coming up to stay with him at various points, and probably his sister too. I don’t know when or for how long, but there’s definitely enough rooms for all of them in that cabin to be there together so it’s going to be so much fun!” Allison told her, “Now that I think about it, I probably wasn’t meant to tell you. Tyson was probably keeping it as a surprise. Oops.”

Mollie just giggled, too happy to care that Tyson hadn’t said anything to her about his plans. It had been too long since she’d seen her childhood friend – summers just weren’t enough time with him – and knowing that he was going to be around for two solid months just made her heart soar. This was everything.

“Oh man, this is going to be the best summer,” Mollie sighed happily.

“Maybe this summer you and Tyson will finally admit how much you love each other.”

Mollie rolled her eyes, shaking her head. For some reason, Allison (and the rest of their other friends) had it in their heads that her friendship with Tyson was more than platonic. Sometimes it got really annoying because honestly nothing had ever happened between them (not even a hint of an almost) but she tried not to let it bug her. She knew where she stood with Tyson – yeah, he was incredibly handsome, with a good heart and a wonderful smile, but she wouldn’t trade their friendship for anything. Ever.

“We’re just friends, Ally-cat,” Mollie sing-songed, rolling her eyes.

“We’ll see,” Allison sing-songed back.

Honestly. Troublemaker.

Mollie ignored her friend’s laughter as she pulled out her phone, opening up her text thread with Tyson.

From: Mollie

A little birdy tells me you’ve rented a cabin by the lake for the summer…

Mollie barely had to wait a couple of minutes before her phone buzzed with a reply.

From: Tyson

I swear Ally can’t keep her mouth shut.

I was trying to surprise you!

Mollie giggled to herself, ignoring Allison’s wriggling eyebrows.

From: Mollie

Trust me, I’m surprised.

School finishes next week – I can’t wait to see you!

It really had been too long.

“Tell your future husband we miss him!” Allison crowed.

“Oh you’re texting Tyson? Say hi from me!” Chase grinned from across the chair circle.

Mollie stuck her tongue out at him as Allison cackled next to her. Her friends were such dicks sometimes.

From: Mollie

The gang say hi and that they all miss you

“Done, happy?” Mollie said dryly.

“Extremely,” Allison grinned, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“I don’t know why I like you at all,” Mollie said bluntly, although her smile gave away her lie.

Allison just wriggled her eyebrows again, earning laughter from the whole group and another eye roll from Mollie.

From: Tyson

Hi back from me!

I miss them too

I miss you the most

Mollie’s eyes widened slightly, a light flush warming her cheeks. What? Why was she reacting like this? Tyson said that all the time. Kind of. No, stop it. Mollie swallowed heavily, keeping her eyes down to avoid a reaction from their friends.

From: Mollie

I miss you too

With that, Mollie shoved her phone back into her pocket, just in time for Bryony to arrive with a fresh round of beers, which Mollie was more than grateful for. What was that all about?

~

“I am so ready for a drink.”

“Make it two,” Mollie mused, grinning at Allison’s words.

“Make it three,” Chase laughed, “I can’t wait to cool off in the lake, it’s too damn hot today.”

That was an understatement. The temperature was sweltering and even just thinking about jumping into the cold water was almost too much to bear. Mollie been waiting all week for this Friday evening – while the four of them who were teachers had been up at the lake during the week every day since their schools finished for the summer a week ago, Allison and Chase had weekday 9-5s, so Mollie had volunteered to drive back into town to bring them out for the weekend, finally bringing their big friendship group together in their rented cabin for the summer. Of course Mollie had visited her family (with her brother John and his wife Michelle reminding her they wouldn’t be up at the lake until next week) to fill the time while she waited for Allison and Chase to be ready, as well as stocking up on supplies, but now Mollie was more than ready to kick back and relax.

After she’d been in the water, of course.

Thankfully Mollie had put a bikini on underneath her clothes, just a simple little red thing, before picking up her friends today, so as soon as she’d parked outside their cabin, brought the cooler of drinks and snacks into the kitchen, and dumped her duffel bag by the stairs, she stripped off her clothes as she walked towards the tempting water. Bryony wolf-whistled as Mollie walked past the three who were already there, and Mollie just flipped them all off with a grin, kicking off her shoes quickly before taking off in a run down the dock and diving into the water.

Bliss.

Allison and Chase, both having stripped down to their swimsuits too, wasted no time in joining Mollie in the water, and all Mollie could do was smile as she resurfaced. This was summer. All of them together in glorious weather at the most beautiful place in Kelowna. What more could she ever want?

“LOOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN!”

Mollie turned her head at Michael’s hollering, grinning at the sight of the familiar figure walked over from the neighbouring cabin. Tyson. Mollie eagerly hauled herself back up onto the dock, slipping back into her shoes and picking up a towel from the stack at the beginning of the dock to dry herself off with as she walked back to the cabins, waving hello as she got closer.

“There you are.”

Mollie just grinned and threw her arms around Tyson’s neck, him just laughing as he picked her up, swinging her round in a circle, not seeming to care that she was getting him wet.

“You’d think you were happy to see me or something,” Tyson teased, setting her back on her feet.

“Oh hush, you know I am,” Mollie sighed happily, running the towel over her wet hair, “Are you happy to be back here?”

“You know it,” he nodded, smiling sweetly at her, “even more so knowing that I’m nowhere near Buffalo and that you’re here.”

Well Mollie would never say no to a bit of Tyson charm.

“Flattery gets you everywhere, Mr Jost,” she mused, trying to calm her racing heart.

It wasn’t fair that nothing about him had changed at all and yet somehow his pretty curls and pretty face were even more handsome since she’d last seen him. So unfair.

“HEY LOVEBIRDS!”

A shout from Bryony broke Mollie out of her thoughts, and she saw Tyson blush fiercely as they both looked at the group by the chairs to see them all smirking at the two of them. And to think it was usually Allison who was the troublemaker. Mollie just flipped them all double birds, earning laughter.

“We’d better go before people start talking eh?” she laughed, trying to hide her blush.

“Let them talk,” Tyson grinned, but starting walking over to the ring of chairs anyway.

It wasn’t fair that her stomach filled with butterflies at the simple sight of his smile.

As Louis handed Mollie a cold white claw, Tyson already having one in hand, she took the empty seat at Tyson’s side. By the time that Allison and Chase hauled themselves out the water to join the group, they were all well on their way to catching up.

They talked about Bryony and Louis still being together, their relationship going on 5 years strong. They talked about Allison losing another job, her uncle having taken pity on her and letting her do his administration for the summer cabins he owned. They talked about the school year, how parents and kids were a stressful nightmare most days now. They talked about Tyson’s season, sort of, Tyson just saying that he was happy to be back up from the AHL. They talked about Tyson’s sister Kacey, how she was kicking ass and taking names. They talked about Chase’s hard-earned promotion at work, finally getting the recognition he deserved. They talked about all the plans they had for the next two months here at the lake and the more they talked and drank and laughed, Mollie just sank back in her chair, taking everything in, soaking everything up.

This really was heaven.

Tyson noticed her relax back in her chair and just smiled at her, earning a genuine smile back. Yeah this was going to be a summer to remember, she could feel it.

~

Another couple of days passed at the lake cabin, Chase and Allison heading back into town while Tyson stayed at his place, and Mollie couldn’t be happier. Happy enough to make breakfast pancakes and bacon for Bryony, Louis and Michael after she showered following her early run around the lake, leaving it all in the oven for them with a note while she cleared up. Breakfast she could handle – it was the little things. She knew her friends would appreciate it anyway.

As she was taking out the trash though, she spotted Tyson doing exactly the same from his cabin, and waved enthusiastically at him, grinning as he laughed. He was clearly still adjusting to waking up early, same as she was – he still looked a little bleary eyed as they walked towards the end of their driveways.

“Good morning Tys!” she said cheerfully.

“Morning!” he mused.

She jogged over to him, Tyson catching her in a hug as she reached his side, making her laugh and squeeze him back tightly. Mornings like this were exactly what she had missed while he was away. As she pulled away though, her phone buzzed with a series of texts, and she pulled out her phone only to frown at the sender. Her ex. Ew. He really wasn’t getting the hint.

“Who’s making your face do that?”

Mollie cursed under her breath and tucked her phone away with.

“It’s no-one,” she said simply, willing him to let it go.

“No-one doesn’t make you grimace like that,” Tyson pointed out, “And it doesn’t make you hide it from me. So who is it?”

She really couldn’t pretend around him, could she? And it wasn’t like he hadn’t heard about her terrible ex boyfriends before.

“It’s my ex. Justin. It’s been six months since I caught him texting other girls with all the things he wanted to do to them, and while I don’t know if he physically cheated, I still kicked him to the curb the moment I found out. Every now and again he blows up my phone, even though I never answer him,” Mollie explained, “His mom even knows and yells at him for bugging me. He’ll get bored soon enough.”

Yeah, this latest ex wasn’t exactly one of her finest choices.

The deep frown that shifted onto Tyson’ face was an interesting reaction though.

“If he doesn’t leave you alone, tell me. I still know enough people in this town, and I can hunt him down and punch him if he doesn’t back off.”

A rush of heat went through her veins at his words, a flush spreading across her cheeks.

There was a flashback in her mind to when they were 15, when Tyson found out that her first boyfriend Todd kissed Jenny Prince behind her back, and sucker-punched him at school in her honour. It was a beautiful memory. And to know that he’d still defend her like that?

“You always were my knight in shining armour,” Mollie teased.

But Tyson just shrugged. “You know I’ve got your back no matter what. That’s what best friends are for.”

Such a sweetheart.

Something about his tone though, how seriously he’d taken her words, made Mollie keep her eye on Tyson throughout the day, and by the time that late afternoon rolled around when their barbecue was in full swing, she finally cornered him again. There was just something in his eyes that looked…tense. It wasn’t the Tyson she knew and it worried her that even in the most relaxing place in Kelowna, he still looked so stressed.

“Hey, Tys, fresh beer?”

Tyson smiled his thanks, taking it with a nod. There was no one else standing too closely so she didn’t feel bad for confronting him like this, not at all.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?” she said softly.

Tyson’s eyes widened a little, before he huffed out a laugh.

“There’s no point hiding anything with you, is there?”

Just like her with him. But Mollie winced. “If there’s something you don’t actually want to talk about, then I’m not going to push. That’s the last thing I want.”

Tyson just nodded, taking a sip of his beer, as if to steel himself. Clearly this was more than passing worry. What was going on?

“Every summer I’ve ever had has been the same. Arrive back to Kelowna, get sympathy and pitying smiles for how shitty the season was, hanging about by the lake, train, start hockey again. I’m tired of it,” Tyson groaned.

“Tired of it?” she asked, confused, trying to understand what he meant.

Surely he didn’t mean he was tired of hockey? She knew how much the sport meant to him.

“I’m tired, Mollie. I feel like I’m stuck, doing the same thing over and over with the same nothing at the end. I need to do something new or I feel like I’m going to go crazy,” Tyson sighed.

Okay, okay that she could manage.

“It must be so frustrating, pouring your whole heart into the sport you love, and not getting the reward you deserve. And the fact that you still feel like this in the off season? That’s not good, Tys,” Mollie murmured, “What can I do to help?”

He sent her a sad smile.

“I’m not sure, really. If I don’t know what I can do, I don’t know what anyone else can do,” he said softly, “But being here with you right now, talking with you like this, I appreciate it. I don’t exactly trust many people with my full thoughts like this.”

That both saddened her and made her heart soar. The fact that he didn’t really have anyone else he could really talk to was devastating…but the fact that he trusted her enough? That was everything.

“Then we can talk and vent and rant and scream as much as you need. And we’ll build your happiness back up, just like you deserve. I’m here for you, Tyson,” she said firmly.

“Yeah?”

That smile would be the end of her, she just knew it.

“Yeah, I mean it,” she nodded, helpless to do anything but smile back.

“Wanna help me make this the best summer ever?” he grinned.

“You do know that sounds like the start of a coming of age film, right?” Mollie teased.

Tyson nudged her with his shoulder, earning a nudge back.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, hope filling his voice.

“Obviously,” she grinned.

How could she say no to him?

But as she looked into his eyes, there was something in his gaze that made her breath hitch in her chest, her grin sliding from her face. Tyson seemed to be caught in the moment too as his own face drifted into neutral, his eyes locked on hers in return. She didn’t realise how close they had shifted until her fingers brushed against his arm, Tyson’s eyes darting down to where they were touching before he looked back up at her. Her heart was pounding, ears full of a rushing sound, her thoughts filled with nothing but the dazed look on Tyson’s face.

It was when his gaze flicked down to her lips that she jolted out of her reverie, just in time for a couple of shrieks and splashes came from the end of the dock.

Fuck. Fuck.

What was that? What the hell was that?

“Mollie…” Tyson murmured, fingers brushing against hers finally.

“I’m going to get some more food,” she said quickly, stepping backwards.

It took all her strength to turn away from the confused hurt expression on Tyson’s face, and walk over to join Bryony and Louis at the barbecue, plastering a smile on her face as her head whirled, desperately trying not to panic. Tyson had almost kissed her. She had almost kissed Tyson. Tyson wanted to kiss her. She wanted to kiss Tyson. Did she want to kiss Tyson?

Of course she wanted to.

But since when did she give into fleeting desires around him? And since when did he ever look at her like that? No, she couldn’t deal with this. She wouldn’t, not tonight. Maybe not ever. What the hell, Tyson?

~

Tyson and Mollie didn’t talk about the moment they shared at all. The first two weeks of their two month summer, almost a full week since that fateful night, passed quickly and the longer they went not mentioning it, Mollie found herself burying the topic completely. From Wednesday morning to Friday midday, Mollie, Tyson, Bryony, Louis and Chase all quickly fell into a routine that she knew would carry on for the rest of the summer. Mollie did her usual run along the lake front each morning, with Bryony and Tyson joining her for a yoga session today, the Friday morning. She spent each day cycling through swimming, sunbathing, and reading, all of the group taking it in turns to cook dinner while sorting out their own lunches. She kayaked with Chase and Tyson for a couple of hours before lunch on Thursday, the three of them paddling in a comfortable silence most the way, taking pictures to make their friends jealous of the beautiful views.

And now Bryony and Louis were back from their grocery run for the barbecue tonight, to celebrate Mollie’s brother John and his wife Michelle coming up for the weekend, as well as Tyson’s friends Mat and Dante arriving ahead of their own week’s stay. They’d all met Mat and Dante before, the two of them joining Tyson for a few summer’s now (and Dante joining on his own the year before that started) so Mollie was well prepared for the chaos those two always seemed to bring. At least in comparison to the peace and calm that Tyson’s friend JT brought when he visited (which he would be doing for two weeks after Dante and Mat left).

It was going to be an interesting stretch of time, that was for sure.

After Tyson had gotten his friends settled in, they immediately joined Mollie’s group to chill on the clearing by the dock, relaxing for a few hours before they needed to start prepping for the barbecue tonight. Chase and Allison wouldn’t be joining them until later, and neither would John and Michelle, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t have fun before then.

“We’ve got snacks and fresh fruit and cold beers, help yourselves,” Michael grinned, waving towards the coolers on the back decking of their cabin.

Mat, Dante, and Tyson saluted, making them all laugh, Tyson carrying over their own crate of beers to add to the coolers too. Mollie just stayed silent, offering Tyson a small smile, to which he sent a hesitant one back. Great. He was still going to be awkward around his friends too. With a quiet sigh, quiet enough that no-one else heard it, she laid back down on her deckchair, eager to let the sun wash away the underlying tension she was desperate to ignore.

Maybe with his friends here, Tyson would get over the awkwardness and they could return to normal. At least, she hoped they could. She didn’t know what she would do if they didn’t.

~

“So, Mollie looks good, huh?”

“Don’t even think about it Barzy,” Tyson scowled.

Dante and Mat looked at each other only briefly before bursting into laughter.

“We know she’s yours, Josty. Chill,” Dante snickered.

“She’s not mine,” Tyson shot back, narrowing his eyes.

His friends just laughed harder.

“Yeah okay, and you totally weren’t distracted when she was sunbathing in that tiny pink bikini this afternoon, right,” Mat teased.

“I swear, I will throw you in the lake.”

~

The weekend was…odd, to say the least. Mollie didn’t spend nearly as much time with Tyson as she normally did, mostly because he looked like he didn’t know what to say to her and she didn’t have a clue what to say to him. She got away with it though, having her brother and sister-in-law up at the cabin, and Tyson having his friends to distract him. She had to get over this weirdness. She needed to.

On the Sunday evening, when her brother John and Michelle drove back into town, she followed them back, staying at her apartment for a night ahead of a family dinner their mom had insisted on for the Monday night. It wasn’t a hardship to take a little break from the cabin, using the time to pamper herself with a long bath and a face mask, giving herself the time to refresh. And Monday she spent giving her apartment a giant deep clean, driving all thoughts from her mind until she only had enough time to shower and change before heading over to her parents house.

“Mollie! Baby! Are you eating enough?”

Mollie just rolled her eyes fondly at her mom’s greeting.

“Nice to see you too mom. I brought wine,” she mused, stepping into her childhood home.

“Ooh, I do love a good cabernet, thank you darling. John and Michelle are already here – they’re with your dad in the den,” her mom said cheerfully, “I’m just finishing up in here!”

“I’ll help you, mom. It’s been a while.”

Mollie’s mom just beamed at her, kissing her cheek before wandering back into the kitchen. She followed with a smile on her face, heart bursting with the love that only a mom could cause, her mom especially. Mollie put on the apron that her mom passed her, the two of them chopping vegetables for the salad in a comfortable silence, Mollie just enjoying her mom dancing along to the radio while they worked. True to her word, they didn’t take long to finish preparing everything, and in no time at all, her mom was calling everyone to the table for dinner.

Incredible chicken pot pie, with creamy mash, a variety of greens, and homemade gravy, with a fruit cobbler for dessert. This was exactly what she needed.

What she didn’t need was her brother opening his mouth the moment that they finished eating.

“So mom, has Mollie told you about Tyson yet?”

What the hell?

“No? Is everything okay?” her mom asked, voice full of concern as she turned to look at Mollie.

She kicked her brother under the table but he just smiled sweetly at her. Her older brother was such a child.

“He’s fine mom. A little stressed after the season, but fine,” Mollie said, as calmly as she could.

“I was talking about all the flirting actually,” John said innocently.

“Shut up, John! There hasn’t been any flirting!” she hissed.

He was a dead man. Michelle could move on happily.

“Flirting?” her dad frowned.

“Flirting?!” her mom cried happily.

For fuck’s sake. She needed to nip this in the bud before her mom pulled out her scrapbooks.

“There is no flirting. John is delusional, maybe a touch of heat stroke. You really check that out for him, Michelle,” Mollie said firmly, her sister-in-law just sending her a pitying smile, “Tyson and I don’t flirt with each other.”

“It’s been different this year and you know it,” John shot back.

Michelle elbowed him, but other than a grunt he didn’t react at all, his smirk staying put.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s one of my best friends and you know it,” Mollie scowled.

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” John sing-songed.

“Oh you assho-”

“That’s enough,” their mom interrupted, gaze firm. Mollie snapped her mouth shut, John doing the same. “Johnathan Neil Thomas, cut it out. If Mollie says they’re still just friends, then that’s that.”

Mollie smiled triumphantly, earning an eye roll from her brother.

“And Mollie Eliza Thomas, if there ever is a change between you and Tyson then you know you can be open with us.”

Ugh.

“Mom!” Mollie hissed.

John just threw his head back and cackled, not even flinching at the elbow from his wife this time. How was he 27 years old?

“Alright, alright, I’m stopping,” their mom grinned, “and so is John.”

Seriously. It was bad enough that her head was messed up from whatever the hell had happened at the lake the other day, whatever the hell had been happening since Tyson came back this summer, but she didn’t need her family adding to it too.

“Cheer up buttercup. Whatever happens, happens,” her dad shrugged, smiling.

Mollie didn’t know if that made things better or worse. Sure, John could be doing the opposite, getting defensive and shutting down a ‘potential’ relationship between her and Tyson (not that there was anything) but this wasn’t helping.

“I’m disowning you all,” Mollie grumbled, “not you Michelle. As always, you’re an angel.”

Her brother’s wife just beamed. “If John doesn’t want to sleep on the sofa tonight, he’ll stop.”

What an angel she was indeed.

Her dad tactfully changed the topic to his upcoming fly fishing trip, finally giving Mollie some peace, but she was lost in her head from there on out, Michelle just filling up her wine glass in solidarity. By the time John and Michelle went home, Mollie had drunk a couple of glasses too many to safely drive home, so she crashed in her childhood bedroom, her mom thrilled that she got to fuss over her for another day.

Her dad promised to make her a hearty breakfast.

While she got ready for bed, doing her usual skincare routine after she changed, Mollie finally let herself embrace her thoughts. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, John’s teasing had gotten under her skin.

It’s been different this year and you know it.

Because it had been different this year. This summer had been full of all of this tension that hadn’t been there before that she didn’t know what to do with. This was her and Tyson. If she couldn’t figure out what it all meant to her, then where did that leave them?

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

John was right. He’d been right all along. It was different this year. Everything with Tyson had felt different this year, the flirty teasing, the innocent touches, the way her heart had skipped at his smile. But why? What had changed?

And what could she do about it?

Tyson had never said anything to her about being more than friends in all of their years of knowing each other, not even as a joke in passing. There’d never been a moment like that almost moment before the barbecue the other day. There’d never been anything that had flared Mollie’s feelings into a tailspin like this, but now? Now she didn’t know what to think.

Breathe. Take a moment.

Mollie inhaled shakily, running her trembling hands through her chestnut hair. It was like a dam had burst, her emotions rushing over like a tidal wave, her heart racing and her breathing getting ragged. This had changed everything. How could she not think about Tyson differently now that the floodgates had opened? How could she ignore that he was her everything now that she’d admitted it to herself? What the hell was she supposed to do now?

“Mollie? Is everything alright?”

Mollie snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of her mom’s voice through the door, clearly having seen her light was still on. Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it.

“Yeah mom, just doing some yoga!” Mollie called back, hoping that the lie wasn’t too obvious, that her voice wasn’t too shaky.

“Alright sweetheart, get some rest! I’ll see you in the morning,”

Mollie just squeezed her eyes shut tightly, balling her fists at her sides as she curled up under her duvet. This wasn’t fair. All these years she’d maintained an amazing friendship with Tyson, a constant steadiness that she cherished, but now…could it really stay the same? Could she stay the same, knowing her feelings were actually real, when he didn’t feel the same? Could she pretend to be normal?

Could they even stay friends?

~

At the lake, unbeknown to Mollie, Tyson was going through his own emotional turmoil, sitting with Dante and Mat in the living area of his cabin.

“What’s going on with you and Mollie?”

“It feels different this year,” was all Tyson could offer to Dante’s question.

“Different…how?” Dante frowned.

Tyson sighed, running a hand over his face, missing the look that his friends exchanged.

“Tys, seriously. You and Mollie have always been so close, and yeah we tease you about it…but has something happened?” Mat said softly.

“I don’t know. There have been some moments. Like, emotionally-charged moments. That first weekend when we first saw each other again, she was wearing this tiny red bikini and she just looked so carefree and beautiful and so goddamn hot that it completely blew past all my defences. I couldn’t help but flirting and she flirted back. Talking to her felt like my heart was clenching and there was something in her eyes that said it wasn’t just me. And the other day at the barbecue, I just…I don’t know. We almost kissed and then she basically ran away,” Tyson said miserably.

Mat laughed softly, making Tyson whine in protest.

“This isn’t funny!”

“Oh it’s kinda funny. Why is it that everyone can see the connection between you two other than you?” Mat mused.

“We’re just friends. That’s all she wants, clearly,” Tyson sighed.

“That’s all she wants? Are you saying that you want more?” Dante asked, grinning.

Tyson just whined again at his friend’s excitement, dropping his head to rest in his hands. He couldn’t deny it, not any more. Not now that things felt so different, so…new. How could he?

“So you’re admitting that you like her. Finally. Are you sure that friendship is all Mollie wants? Have you even said anything?” Mat asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Why would I say anything?!” Tyson yelped, lifting his head up again.

Was Mat crazy?

Both Mat and Dante rolled their eyes. “You literally said that it wasn’t just you that had that emotionally charged moment,” Mat pointed out.

“I know but…”

“If there’s another moment like that, why don’t you just take a chance?” Dante interrupted, before Tyson could spiral into a panic, “if things are stressing you out this much, then maybe she’s feeling the same.”

Tyson bit his bottom lip, contemplating his friend’s words. Could he really do that?

Mat sighed, seeing Tyson’s hesitation. “Look, bud, you never know until you try. The friendship that you and Mollie have is so solid – even if things don’t happen between you two, nothing will change that.”

“I guess you’re right. She wouldn’t be weird about it, even if it is just me with feelings,” Tyson murmured.

Mat frowned, opening his mouth to argue, but Dante just elbowed him in the ribs, making him grunt.

“I don’t think it is just you, but yeah, you really should act on this, before you get too in your head about things. I know it’s scary and I know that you’ve got to take a risk, but I honestly think it’s going to pay off. It’s Mollie, Tys. How can things not?” Dante said warmly.

Mat nodded enthusiastically, making Tyson laugh softly.

“You really think I could take a chance?”

“Absolutely. You’re Tyson fucking Jost – you’ve got this!” Dante grinned.

Tyson smiled weakly, trying to put on a brave face. He wasn’t convinced, not with how much was on the line. Mollie was too important for him to lose. But maybe, just maybe, he could gain even more?

~

The week went on with Mollie no closer to an answer to what her next steps should be. At least Tyson was a little more relaxed around her, offering her genuine smiles rather than the awkward ones he’d been giving her since their almost moment. On Mat and Dante’s penultimate day, Allison arranged for a four jet skis to be sent up to the lake as a surprise, and they all took turns in racing each other on them, no-one getting too drunk to make sure they stayed safe.

After a few races on the jet ski, Mollie took a break, letting Louis take over to race Bryony, Mat and Dante, while Michael cheered them on and took photos. She could see her phone lighting up with jealous messages from Allison and Chase – FOMO was a bitch – so she could already predict that Allison would be extending their rental until after the full weekend had passed so she could have a go herself.

Mollie headed back out of the cabin with a book, a bottle of water, and some sunscreen, ready to relax for a little while now that she’d pulled some shorts back on, only to see Tyson already sitting where she had been planning to sit. Maybe it was fate. Maybe this was the time they needed, apart from the others. Maybe this was a sign.

Then again, Tyson had been fairly quiet today so far, letting Mat and Dante take the reins in conversation.

“Hey Tys. Mind if I join you?”

He jolted, looking up at her like she’d surprised him, making her frown slightly.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure.”

Okay, not quite the reaction she’d been expecting. Even for him, this was weird. Still, she sat down in the chair next to him, reapplying her sunscreen before opening up her book. But the way that Tyson was sitting silently next to her, just staring out at the lake, was unsettling.

“Is everything okay?” she murmured, putting her bookmark in her book.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

His answer was so short, almost distant, unlike any way he’d ever spoken to her, and it hurt a little to hear that tone in his voice. Maybe she was just missing something, but him brushing her off like that on top of all of her emotional turmoil lately was just enough to make tears spring to her eyes.

It was all she could do to swallow heavily to keep her composure, and she stood up, dropping her book on her chair.

“Where are you going?” Tyson frowned.

“I don’t know. Just need to clear my head, I guess,” Mollie shrugged, attempting to keep her voice light.

“Can I come with you?” Tyson blurted.

That would be the opposite of helpful right now. But when he looked at her so hopefully, how could she say no? Maybe he’d actually open up, and his attitude was all a big misunderstanding? She could only hope. She couldn’t take him pulling away from her, if that’s what this was.

No, she had to have hope.

With a quick glance over her shoulder to check that their friends were all occupied, Mollie started to walk in the opposite direction down the lake front, knowing that Tyson would be following her. She wandered, a little aimlessly, trying to clear her head as she’d said to him, but nothing helped knowing that it was his footsteps following her.

Eventually she slowed to a stop at a little cove, ducking into it to get out of the harsh light of the sun, and Tyson stopped next to her, offering her a small smile. She had to return it – this was the place they’d dubbed ‘their spot’ after all. Back in Tyson’s first summer, she’d found him here after a difficult training session, full of frustration and homesickness, and it had been one of the things that bonded them so quickly. She’d never told anyone about this place, that it was hers and Tyson’s. Mollie hadn’t intended to come here, but clearly her subconscious had other plans.

Tyson took a step towards her, slipping slightly on a rock, and Mollie’s hands darted out to stead him, Tyson clinging to her forearms as he regained his balance. It was only when she laughed and looked back up at him that she realised they were standing so close that she could count his eyelashes, and she froze.

No, no she couldn’t do this. She needed less drama, less intensity, less…

“Mollie,” Tyson murmured, voice breathy.

“Tys, I…I can’t,” she choked.

Her head was swirling as she jerked out of his grip, trying not to slip herself as she stepped past him, but Tyson grabbed her hand to stop her leaving.

“Mollie, please don’t go! Just listen to me!” Tyson begged.

The desperation in his voice made her stop in her tracks. She closed her eyes, keeping her back to him as she tried to control her racing heartbeat, jumping slightly as his hand move to touch her shoulder. Against her better judgement, with a gentle squeeze of his hand, she turned back around to face him, biting her lip at the devastation in his face.

“Tys,” she whispered, a little helplessly.

He’d never looked at her like that before, like she had the power to destroy him completely. She wasn’t sure if she liked it.

“Mollie, sweetheart…”

Sweetheart. He trailed off at her whimper, running a shaky hand through his unruly curls before he looked into her eyes with such determination that butterflies erupted in her stomach.

“You’ve got to know how much I like you, Mollie. Seriously. You’re one of the only people I keep in touch with from home, one of the only true friends I can count on, and you know how much our friendship means to me. But you’ve got to know how our friendship has evolved. It’s…more now, right? You feel it too?”

Mollie’s breath caught in her throat. He…what?

How much I like you.

How much our friendship means to me.

Our friendship has evolved.

You feel it too?

“Please. Say something,” Tyson begged.

How could she deny him that? After everything she started admitting to herself? She closed her eyes, swallowing heavily, only opening them when her heart cracked open a little. If he could be honest, as much of a dream as it felt, then so could she.

“I do feel it, Tys. I just…I didn’t let myself hope that you felt the same,” she whispered.

There it was. She’d finally said the words out loud. Tyson let out a wounded noise, low and sad, but Mollie didn’t say anything. What else could she say without losing all composure?

“I’ve liked you for so long, Molls. I just never let myself act on it because I didn’t think you felt the same. But now…”

Tyson trailed off again into nothing, letting out a whoosh of breath. The hope and wonder in his voice sent a thrill through Mollie’s body, her heart beating a little bit faster. Tyson liked her. He really liked her! And she’d told him how she felt about him too? She’d never thought this moment would actually happen. Definitely not since her emotional realisation a few evenings ago. But now that it was? It felt mindblowing. Was this really happening?

But there was still that niggle of doubt she couldn’t deny. So Mollie gathered her thoughts while Tyson stayed silent, hoping they wouldn’t bite her in the ass.

“I can’t do this if it’s just for the summer,” Mollie blurted, “I can’t be only a fling for you, Tyson. I wouldn’t be able to cope with that. Not with you.”

Tyson quickly shook his head, reaching out to clasp both of her hands in his, making her gasp softly at the warmth in his grip.

“You could never be a fling. This is the real deal between us, Mollie. I know it is. You know it is,” Tyson said firmly.

Mollie just nodded, choking out a laugh, unable to stop the tears welling up in her eyes as she smiled at him, earning a hopeful smile back. He was right. Deep down, no matter how her insecurities whispered, she knew that their friendship meant a solid foundation. It wasn’t a temporary wavering summer-fun. It was…everything.

“So what are you saying?” Mollie murmured, trying to blink away the tears.

Was this really happening?

“Will you be my girl?” Tyson asked, his voice full of hope.

Mollie choked a laugh, her voice thick with the tears that wouldn’t leave. “Yeah, Tys. I’ll be your girl,”

Tyson let out a whoop, throwing his head back, making Mollie laugh again. What a ridiculous guy. She liked him so much. He rested his forehead against hers, one hand rising to cup her cheek, making her inhale sharply as his eyes went more serious.

“Can I kiss you now? Finally?”

Mollie tilted her head up to press her lips to his in answer.

~

Being with Tyson was easy, easier than Mollie could’ve ever imagined. Somehow that transition from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend was seamless, with not even a little awkwardness like she’d feared there would’ve been. She attributed that to Tyson mainly though – he was such a driving force of happiness, and now that she’d allowed herself to feel all those thoughts she’d subconsciously pushed down before, it was like everything had clicked into place. It was almost like it was fate.

Fate that she was seizing with both hands and never letting go.

The moment that they’d returned to the cabins from the cove, Dante had taken one look at them and demanded Mat to ‘pay up’. Bryony had immediately pulled out her phone, typing away furiously, until she groaned and admitted that Allison had won their pool. Tyson had just laughed when he realised that everyone had been betting on the two of them, Mollie hiding her face in his chest with a groan. Somehow she wasn’t surprised – it was their friends after all – but that didn’t make her feel any better in the moment.

Nor did John’s smug texts – Michelle’s happy ones soothed that a little. She wasn’t surprised either when Tyson came to her after the weekend and admitted that John had given him a shovel talk in private, one that he refused to share the details of (so she knew it had to be violent), but when she’d texted John to berate him, all her brother said was that he approved and that Tyson was a good guy.

That much she knew already, thank you very much.

The rest of their summer raced by. After Mat and Dante left, JT stayed for two weeks, just as thrilled for them as Tyson’s other friends had been (especially since he won the bet he had with Alex Kerfoot about them). After JT left, Kacey and Tyson’s mom came up to stay for a week, and their genuine heartfelt welcome to the family talks left Mollie more emotional than ever, Tyson just smiling with watery eyes (that he later denied).

And obviously her parents were thrilled, Tyson being dragged down to a couple of family dinner over the remaining six weeks of summer, in between his intense workouts, getting him ready for the upcoming season.

But those six weeks flew by faster than Mollie anticipated, the end of summer drawing closer, and Tyson only had few weeks before he needed to get back to Buffalo for training camp. His time at his cabin had come to an end, as had Mollie’s, so he’d come to stay at her apartment with her while he figured out what he wanted to for his remaining time.

The more time Mollie could spend with him, the better, so she wasn’t going to complain. Especially if it meant waking up in Tyson's arms in the mornings. Even if it meant Tyson watching her with adoring expressions as she shuffled through old lesson plans to see which she could spruce up ahead of the upcoming school year.

A few days into them living in her apartment together though, Tyson made breakfast for them both and sat down opposite her with a serious expression on his face, making her a little nervous. They ate mostly in silence, the radio playing in the background, and it wasn’t until he’d put their plates in the sink that Tyson was ready to talk.

“Everything’s been so good between us, right?” he blurted.

The nervous expression on his face made her heart twinge, and not in a fun way.

“It has for me?” she offered, wincing.

“It has for me too, I promise,” he said quickly, taking the edge off her anxiety, “I just…I’ve been thinking a lot. About our future. Where we could end up. Where I want our relationship to end up.”

She tried valiantly to ignore how her heart started beating a little faster.

“What have you been thinking?” she prompted, hoping her voice didn’t sound too shaky.

“I don’t know where I’m going to end up with hockey in the future. The Avs didn’t want me, it didn’t work out with the Wild, and who knows where I’ll be after this coming year with the Sabres after all the up and down this past season. I don’t know where I’ll be playing or what city I’ll be in, but…will you come with me?”

Mollie’s jaw dropped slightly, her breath catching in her throat. He wanted her to go with him? To leave Kelowna? Tyson saw her shock and immediately reached across the island counter to take both of her hands in his, desperate to ground her as he knew she needed.

“I know this is fast, or at least it would be by normal relationship standards, but with how long we’ve known each other and with how right this feels…I just can’t bear the thought of another 9 months without you. Especially not in Buffalo,” Tyson said, his eyes wide and honest.

Go with Tyson? Uproot everything she’d ever known, move away from all her friends, her job, her life?

“Tyson, I…”

She trailed off, biting her lip, unsure of how to continue as her thoughts swirled. But as soon as she did, she noticed how Tyson’s shoulders slumped slightly, his grip on her hands going limp.

“No, you’re right. It’s too soon, isn’t it? I couldn’t ask you to give up your whole life, just like that, that's not fair on you,” Tyson sighed, finally dropping her hands.

Her breath caught in her throat at the defeat in his eyes. That, more than anything else, she hated. How he second guessed himself? His lack of self confidence? That devastation, it just wasn’t right. So Mollie shook her head, taking his hands back in hers.

“Tys, I need a moment to process, yeah?”

He nodded, a glimmer of hope entering his eyes again, making her smile slightly. Mollie huffed out a breath, running her thumbs over his knuckles, as she tried to process his words. Moving with Tyson – moving in with Tyson fully – would change everything. It would be the biggest step she’d ever taken with a relationship, but with Tyson it would be…

“Tell me what’s going through your mind,” Tyson begged, interrupting her flow.

“You just can’t stand the silence huh,” she teased, unable to resist.

“You know I can’t,” he laughed.

But the laugh was strained, making her sigh. Time to be honest.

“I guess…the main thing going through my mind is that this is such a big step,” she admitted.

“Yeah it is. But it’s also exciting? And I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t sure it would work,” Tyson said honestly.

She couldn’t help but blush slightly. The fact that he was so certain about their relationship was refreshing. And she knew that Tyson always put his whole heart into everything, which was exciting - no-one else had ever had this conviction.

“What about my job? My friends? My family? And a visa? I’ve never even left BC, you know I haven’t,” Mollie prompted, going through all her doubts.

Tyson tilted his head back slightly, averting his eyes as he chewed his lip, clearly deep in thought. She couldn’t help but smile – he really was putting so much effort into this.

“I know you love teaching, even though the school you’re at right now has terrible parents…but I know you’d also smash any teaching job in any place, so I think that part is solvable? Family and friends though…that’s the big sacrifice. And I know, because it sucks leaving mine at the end of every summer. It’s sucked leaving you at the end of every summer, even though we were only ever just friends before. I don’t want to leave you again, but I understand if only seeing everyone else a few times a year outside of summer is a deal breaker,” Tyson sighed, “The visa thing I can work out with my agent, so that shouldn’t be an issue. And I know that you haven’t ever left BC – but there’s so much of the world I want to show you, even if that starts with Buffalo.”

Mollie huffed out a breath at his words, knowing he was speaking from the heart. But what should she do? Tyson watched the frustration play out across her face and smiled sadly, squeezing her hands in comfort.

“Hey, whatever you decide, just know that it won’t change how much I love you, yeah?” he said softly.

He loves her? Of all the times to drop that declaration, so simple and sweet. How could her heart not sing at that?

“My god, Tys, I love you too. So much. And you’re right, it would suck to watch you leave again because everything is so different this year. I finally have you and to lose you?”

Mollie frowned, shaking her head as she cut herself off. How could she let him go?

Tyson saw the change in her expression, a wide smile spreading across his lips. “So…?” he asked hopefully.

She laughed at his prompting, and squeezed his hands back.

“Yeah, Tyson, I’m willing to try this, to try us,” Mollie nodded, smiling, “I’ll move with you, to Buffalo, and then wherever you go after that.”

Tyson whooped and stood up from his chair, making her laugh again as he ran around to her side of the island, which quickly turned into a squeal as he threw his arms around her and picked her up to spin her in a circle. The joy in his face was just pure happiness, and Mollie knew right then that she’d made the right decision.

“I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us,” Tyson grinned, resting his forehead against hers.

There was so much to think about, with moving, with getting a visa, with her job, with her apartment in Kelowna. But a future with Tyson? That was all Mollie wanted - and she couldn’t wait to see what the future held for them either.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

with you - t. jost

tyson jost x f!reader

warnings: hospitals, swearing, fainting/dizziness/light-headedness, mentions of blood tests, medical inaccuracies, implant as a method of hormonal contraception, anxiety, pregnancy, implications of sex, mention of alcohol (lmk if there's more)

< a/n: this has an abrupt ending so i apologise in advance >

word count: 8.1k

Your eyes were glued to the screen of your phone, watching Tyson’s contact photo wander to the parking lot of the golf club. Your foot was bouncing on the linoleum bed they’d put you on, arm laid flat against the surface, a cotton wool ball taped at the crease of your inner elbow.

The phone itself was leaning against your thighs, still clad in your sports leggings, and your free hand was anxiously pulling at your bottom lip.

The thumping in your chest was way too prominent to ignore, and you guessed it was the knowledge that you’d most definitely feel better if he was with you that had you pressing his contact number.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He picked up on the second ring, airy tone already suggesting he was smiling. 

Almost instantly the sound of his voice seemed to ease the knot in your chest, and you sighed into the phone, your bouncing foot stilling, “Hi,” you started, the words lined up in your brain and dancing on the end of your tongue, yet somehow still stuck behind the blockade of apprehension, “um–”

“Are you okay?” Tyson’s worried voice cut through your phone, somehow clearer than it had been ten seconds ago. 

You nodded to yourself, sucking in a deep breath and trying to prepare yourself for what you were about to tell him, but it didn’t seem to have the desired effect to the desired extent. Your chest was still heavy and your mind was racing, and you were vaguely aware of the fact that he’d cut his car engine because your silence was worrying him, “I’m fine,” it was a partial truth, “I just…Are you sitting down?”

It was his turn to hesitate, “Yeah.” Then, in a low voice, just a smidge harsher than a whisper, “Baby, you’re kind of scaring me right now.”

You blinked, “Don’t be scared, and definitely don’t freak out.”

“Now I’m scared and freaking out. What–”

“I’m fine, okay?” The more you repeated that, the less confident you felt in the weight of them, your certainty wavering by the second–

“You keep saying that, but you sound like you’re not.” His voice was soft, still most definitely concerned, but still displaying an insane amount of patience.

If the roles had been reversed (although, considering Tyson most definitely could not get pregnant, this situation was a little different), there was absolutely no way you would have been able to maintain that same level-headedness if he was on the phone sounding as completely out of it as you assumed you did.

You swallowed, feeling a multitude of emotions begin to simmer under your skin – so much so that trying to dissect and analyse each pound of your heart or tremble of your fingers was exhausting – and you could feel your previous shock-induced numbness begin to fade, “I need you to pick me up from the hospital–”

“Said no fine person ever!”

You ignored his rather panicked comment, instead soldiering through before you lost your nerve, “I’m not injured, nothing’s broken, nothing hurts, but I fainted out at tennis and Sabine drove me here. I can’t come home by myself for another two hours, but I want to come home now and the only way I can do that is if someone picks me up.” 

Silence.

You felt your eyes prickle slightly – you were so overwhelmed the lightheadedness felt like it could start to make a comeback, “Tys?” 

A dry sniffle sounded through the phone, and before his voice cut through to answer you, the sound of the engine spurred back to life, “Of course I’ll come and get you. I’m on my way, ‘kay? Just pulling out the lot right now, I’ll be about fifteen minutes.” 

“Okay.” You whispered, focusing your eyes on the ceiling and trying to get your breathing under control.

“How are you feeling now?” He asked gently, just the sound of his voice giving you something else to focus on besides the flickering lightbulb and the calling of other names from the waiting room outside.

“Better than I did earlier. They gave me something to eat so I don’t feel as weak, but the lightheadedness is kind of still kicking around. The dizziness has gone, but my arm’s a little sore from where they took my blood.” 

You could picture him behind the wheel of  his car, phone hooked up to the Bluetooth system, a crease between his brows and the telltale tilt of a frown playing at the corners of his mouth. He hadn’t shaved recently, a soft scruff coming in, and your hands tingled in remembrance. He’d be warm, too, a vast contrast to your current state. 

It wasn’t just the room you were in either, even despite wearing a hoodie, you were freezing. Your hands and feet were almost numb, and your skin was littered with goosebumps – it was the stress of the entire day manifesting into physical symptoms. 

“Bl..” He began, sentence trailing off, “Bloods – is it anything serious?” He rambled, voice straining slightly.

It was serious. Very serious – life changing, in fact. But not serious in the way he was insinuating.

So you lied; it wasn’t the sort of thing to tell over the phone, much less when he was driving, and if you were being honest, you wanted to keep the news to yourself a little while longer just to mull it over and let it sink in, “No, nothing serious,” there was a twinge of guilt that nested itself under your ribs, “They said it was caused by low blood pressure from my hormones.”

He made a noise of acknowledgement, not delving further into the reason as to why it was caused by your hormones – something you were grateful for – before continuing, “You didn’t hurt yourself when you fainted did you? Your head’s okay, right?”

Despite yourself, you cracked a small smile at his questions, “You should know.” It was a half-hearted attempt to try to reassure him, and judging from the short huff of laughter, it did so to an extent, “But no, I didn’t. I was literally warming up and then out of nowhere, I was just hit with this wave of dizziness. I thought it’d sort itself out when I sat out for a bit, but it got worse and the next thing I know I’m waking up to Sabine kneeling next to me saying I passed out.” You sighed again. Your brain hadn’t shut up since the whole incident had occurred, and, cautiously, almost curiously, you slid your sore arm under your jumper.

It felt weird, perhaps a little silly considering the fact that there was nothing to show for said pregnancy just yet, but as you gently skimmed a thumb over the skin, your nerves spun on their head a little. It was anticipation, with a peppering of excitement.

It had been a wedding that started everything; a friend of yours from high school was marrying their college sweetheart and you’d dragged Tyson along (freshly from your second year anniversary) with the intention of spending a few days away from the chaos of the NHL and the uncertainty surrounding his career. 

Amidst it all, you’d both somehow become the in-ceremony babysitters – unintentionally. It turned out Tyson seemed to be some kind of magnet for all things hockey related, including children and rogue pucks. So when a rubber disk was flicked too high and too wide, hitting someone in the middle of their back, he’d taken it upon himself to teach the ones playing on the grass (how they’d made playing hockey work on uncut grass you had no idea) how to properly control and flick the sticks with more precision, and, you wanting a break from the mini high school reunions, had followed him, taking a seat on the banking of the hill.

It was a good view, even more so when the sun had started to drop, casting an orangey glow from behind you. Tyson had been teaching about ten kids the ways of hockey for a while by that point, them completely enraptured by what he was saying. He’d let the bigger kids go off by themselves, and was crouching in front of a five year old girl, pigtails held up by pink ribbons, helping her when she couldn’t quite get the grip right on the stick. The boys had wandered off, leaving her by herself, even though you’d heard her shout after them, but Tyson had stayed.

He’d shed his blazer a while ago, and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and even though you knew how expensive his dress pants were he’d not even thought twice about kneeling on the dewy ground. Everything about the entire scene was endearing – in the way that had you falling in love with him even more. 

You barely held yourself back from dropping your head in your hands when the little girl had reached out to tug on one of his curls inquisitively, giggling when it bounced back immediately. And when he ducked and shook his head for her to see? 

You could have died happily.

But you, on the other hand, also had company of sorts. 

From where you’d initially sat down by yourself on the banking, a glass of Prosecco in your hand, a group of three girls had slowly migrated towards you, led by sheer curiosity. 

One looked around nine, wearing a deep purple tulle dress with butterflies embroidered along the bottom, and was holding hands with another little girl who could barely walk without assistance and looked half asleep. The third must have been about six or seven, trainers on her feet, with a green jumpsuit.

Green jumpsuit was Fiona, purple tulle was Iris and the toddler with ruddy cheeks and a pink pinafore dress was Eden. 

And two out of three of the girls had their eyes focused on your hands, where you’d been picking daisies and knotting them to form a chain.

It barely took five minutes, a reassurance from Iris that, yes, Eden’s parents are aware she’s taken her for a walk, and yes, they do trust her to look after her as long as she’s with Fiona, and within no time you’d found yourself showing the older girls how to make the daisy chains, and somehow, somewhere along the lines, Eden had slumped her head against your chest, legs kicked out around your waist, and was snoring gently on your collarbone. 

After that, it had been difficult to keep sneaking glances at Tyson due to your stolen attention, but that was your moment. It was the moment.

Watching the girls cheer in excitement and giggle and smile at each other and boast about their successful daisy chains, eventually showing them off to Tyson when the little girl he’d been teaching had joined the boys (she’d stunned them with her determined flicks into their makeshift net) and he’d climbed up the banking to sit with you.

It wasn’t his moment, that much you knew, but it certainly solidified what he’d already decided, and you could tell just in the way he’d taken a seat next to you, leaning back on his elbows with his legs stretched out down the hill. It was in the way he’d looked at you with the girls, with Eden, in the way his smile seemed to physically split his cheeks, in the way they seemed to turn a little bit pink when you raised a knowing eyebrow in his direction at his lack of subtlety. It was also in the way he’d leant himself towards you, hand tracing shapes on the red silk at your hips, before gently tracing the seams of Eden’s baby shoes.

Neither of you had actually brought up the unspoken yet entirely noticeable change until you’d both tucked yourself under the duvet in your hotel room.

“Are you still awake?” You whispered into the darkness, eyes trained to where you knew the ceiling to be.

You knew he wasn’t because he’d been pretty still – a stark contrast to his usual fidgeting and shuffling. Though, as soon as you’d spoken you could feel and hear the rustle of the duvet as he rolled onto his side, eyes burning into the side of your face from where you’d laid on your back.

“I can’t sleep.” He admitted, sighing through his nose, the action blowing strands of your own hair into your face.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, body still but mind loud. 

Then you flicked your bedside light on and rolled towards the middle of the bed, nearly nose to nose with Tyson, who, up close and personal, looked more awake than he definitely should have been considering the fact that it was getting on to half past one in the morning.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You whispered, watching his face closely.

Gentle brown eyes pierced your gaze, his lashes fluttering when he blinked, hair separated into curls after the late night shower, and something in his jaw ticked. It elicited your own motions, a tentative hand reaching up to brush your fingers over his chin, soft stubble greeting your touch. 

“Yeah.” He mumbled, nudging his chin further into the palm of your hand until you were cupping his cheek, thumb swiping lightly against his cheekbone, before retracting your hand and using it to tug the covers closer to your chin.

Even the broach of the topic on both your minds was enough to feel uncharacteristically shy in his presence. Strangely, it felt intimate, leaving you feeling somewhat vulnerable and sheepish.

“You first.” 

His face broke into a small smile at your comment, and you rolled your eyes at his teasing laughter.

“Okay,” he started, laughter dying out as a hint of seriousness bled into his tone, “I want kids. Plural. I mean, I think I’ve always known I wanted them, but now I’m at an age where it’s…I’m not a teenager anymore, I’m not immune to being broody. And I guess after today, seeing you with those girls got me thinking about us in the future, and I do want kids. With you.” He pursed his lips, looking at you with hopeful eyes, before nodding.

Your turn.

You swallowed, heart pounding a little at his admission, “I…” you sucked in a breath, nerves having skyrocketed completely, “I’d never really thought about having my own children before, I guess because I’d always just thought I’d be happy with my life with or without having them – like, I wouldn’t feel like something was missing if I never had kids, y’know?” 

He nodded, listening intently.

“That being said, recently – and not just today – I don’t know, I think you’ve changed my mind.”

He furrowed his brows, “Me?”

You nodded, “And your mom and sister. You come from such a loving family, and…” you sighed, frustrated, “I don’t know how to say it, but I think if I was with any other person, the idea of kids wouldn’t be so appealing, but because it’s you, having children half you and half me just seems like an absolute dream.” You took a breath, “And it’s not just because I kind of knew you already wanted kids even though you didn’t actually say it, but I came to that decision by myself.”

Tyson smiled properly this time, teeth and everything, with creases appearing on the corner of his eyes. You felt yourself furrow your brows, thoroughly confused with his blatant joy and lack of words, not entirely knowing what to do or what to say.

“Say something.” You urged, his warm palm landing on your back as he used the leverage to pull you closer, coaxing you to drape a leg across his hip as he breathed a laugh.

“Holy shit, you’re so in love with me it’s actually kind of embarrassing.” You could practically feel him roll his eyes as he moved onto his back, pulling you with him so he could wrap an arm around your shoulders and weave his hand in your hair, pulling it away from your face.

“Excuse m–”

“But that’s okay, y’know. I’m also embarrassingly in love with you too, so it’s not that bad.” He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, but before he could continue you pushed yourself up onto your elbow, his arm dropping to our waist.

“That’s not the end of this conversatio–”

“Even more so now than, like, five minutes ago.” He interrupted, eyes focused on the ceiling with a dopey grin on his face.

You didn’t know if he was even aware of the fact you were talking, or if he was stuck in his own head, imagining your children–

“You mean when I told you that I wanted to have your babies and your babies only?” You teased, poking him in the cheek.

This time it was evident that he’d heard you because his eyes rolled into his head and he dragged both hands away from you and ran them down his face, groaning out loud. You laughed at his reaction, his hands tangling into his curls as though even the sight of you was too much for him at that moment, “My heart can’t take this,” he shook his head, “you’re killing me, woman. I honestly think I can’t love you more, and then you say shit like that and it just makes me want to propose on the spot.”

You felt your cheeks burn instantaneously at that confession, and you tilted your head, eyes wide, “It makes you want to what now?”

He blinked, “Um–”

“You can’t get shy on me now, Tys.”

“Like you haven’t been thinking about it either.” He said with full conviction as he too pushed himself onto his elbows, the both of you now essentially sat up in bed, covers pooling around your middle.

You shrugged coyly, “I–This has nothing to do with me, I was asking you.”

His eyes were wide, a smile on his face despite the disbelieving scoff that passed his lips, “I didn’t think it was a secret that I’m gonna marry you at some point in the future.”

You stuttered, mouth opening and shutting. He was right, it wasn’t exactly a secret as such, what with both your families and friends making jokes and whatnot, but…it was different hearing it come from his mouth. In confidence.

So, you switched it up a little, “Before or after children?”

He froze, this time it was his turn to stutter, “What?”

“Marriage. Before or after children?” 

He straightened, tilting his head with some amusement, “That depends on when you want to come off birth control, sweetheart.”

If you weren’t so suddenly awake, you’d have stalled at his words, at the sweet yet condescending way he used the term of endearment reserved only for you. But your brain was going a mile a minute, and you were way too fired up to even consider letting him leave you speechless. 

“We’re twenty-two, I don’t want kids yet for at least another couple of years. Twenty-five, maybe. It might change depending on whether or not you propose, though.”

The challenge was there, laid out in the open for him – you’d put the ball in his court pretty much. Whether or not you’d change your mind if he did propose was another thing altogether, but you had no preference.

“Change how?” He shot back.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see, yeah?” You raised a brow.

He blinked, that irritating smirk still on his face. Your fingers itched to snatch the pillow next to you and whack him with it, but you refrained, waiting patiently for an answer.

“Yes, ma’am.” He muttered, sarcastically.

You rolled your eyes, throwing yourself back on the mattress with a dramatic flair. Tyson copied you, still using his elbow to hover over you with that grin still on his face, “Cheeky bastard.”

He winked, “Your cheeky bastard though. The cheeky bastard you want to have children with – wait, how many do you want?”

You inhaled, taking him in. He’d worn a soft black t-shirt to bed, one that, now as he hovered over you, just seemed to make him look so incredibly, deliciously broad. The kind of good-looking that had you debating whether or not to retract your previous statement of having your implant taken out in another three years. 

Though, with the one you’d just had put in, you’d be twenty-five when you’d have to replace it…you could just not. 

“Two to three.” You said, “One would be lonely, and four would be too much. Depends how the first one goes, too.”

He nodded, something on the tip of his tongue, but thought better of it, instead leaning down (thus, taking you by surprise given the previous nature of the conversation) and planting a slow kiss on your lips. He pulled away slightly, a smile on his face, his hair tickling your forehead, “You were so just checking me out, weren’t you?”

You shook your head, a hand on the back of his neck pulling him back into you to avoid answering the question.

He laughed, resting his forehead on yours for a moment before something seemed to occur to him, “Are you fussy about what we’d have?”

“No, I’d just like one of each at least. What about you?” You swiped his hair back, watching in delight when his curls flopped back over his forehead.

“Same as you.” 

Another kiss.

“You never said how many you wanted.” You pointed out, fingers once more grazing against his cheeks.

Maybe you’d underestimated the power of being broody, because after what you’d witnessed it was like a switch had been flicked in your brain because you could not stop touching him. 

He collapsed into his shoulder, forcing you to turn your head to keep your eyes on him, “Two or three. I think you’re right about the four kid thing, though. I couldn’t have imagined growing up with two more siblings on top of Kacey.”

“Even the thought of four kids is exhausting.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Speaking of exhaustion…” you muttered, stifling a yawn with the back of your hand.

Accomplished. That’s how you felt having that incredibly mature (it had its moments) and very adult conversation. 

You’d essentially just planned the next five years with the man next to you, and although the thought of having kids and everything that would entail — should it happen — was terrifying, it felt right.

You’d switched off the bedside lamp and rolled over towards the middle of the bed when something else occurred to you; a rogue idea you’d had once that had seemingly flashed back up once you’d shut your eyes, “When you grow a pair and propose, I’d like it if you wear a ring too. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy if you don’t want, maybe like one of those titanium ones.”

He shuffled, and you could hear the smirk in his voice as he looked back at you, “Possessive much?” 

You shrugged, “We’re engaged to each other, I don’t know why only women typically wear the rings…and there’s no harm in sending a hint.”

Tyson hummed, “Whatever you say.”

That entire conversation had been three years ago. You’d had your implant removed and not replaced around five months ago…and you’d not exactly been careful during sex because ‘it’ll happen when it happens’, only it happened. You’d talked about it happening early, enough to the point that you’d done your research and prepped everything in terms of checking finances, but it didn’t mean you weren’t…shocked.

There was just simply nothing that could prepare you for the actual moment.

Nor, it seemed, seeing Tyson after everything that had happened. You’d been holding everything in, the fear, the shock – not just of the pregnancy, but the whole fainting debacle, and getting a blood test and being seen to by multiple doctors all by yourself. Sabine had dropped you off and waited with you in the ER waiting area but that had been the extent of it; she’d had to go pick up her kids from her sister’s or something, and…something else you couldn’t quite remember.

But you’d heard him before you’d seen him, and then the door to your room was opening, a nurse walking through first and offering you a knowing smile before he’d all but barrelled through the doorway, somewhat frazzled. You’d been sitting with your legs slung off the side of the bed when you heard him ask for you at the desk, and almost instantaneously his eyes had zeroed in on the cotton wool ball now screwed up next to you.

“I’m fine–” The words died in your throat when he immediately wrapped you in a warm hug, moving to stand between your dangling legs with one arm wrapped around your waist, his left hand curled around the base of your neck and your face tucked into the curve of his neck.

The coolness of the ring on his hand soothed you somewhat, but as soon as the door shut and the nurse left, you lifted your arms to hug him across his back, sniffling wetly as the tears began to accumulate along your waterline.

“Hey, hey, shh, shh, it’s okay,” his hand rubbed up and down your back, and he pulled away slightly, running a thumb under your eyes to wipe the tears away before they could fall, “you’re okay–”

“I just–I’ve never fainted before,” you took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself, eyes watery and blurring your view of him, “It just took me by surprise, and I don’t know…it was scary.” You let out a watery and rather self-deprecating laugh, taking a deep breath and running your hands over your face to remove the evidence of tears, bar red cheeks and puffy eyes.

Tyson said nothing, simply ran his hands over the tops of your thighs as he waited patiently for you to calm down. In all honesty, he’d never really seen you have an emotional outburst like that – no matter how short. Sure, he’d seen you cry; your childhood dog was put down in your first year together and he’d held you in Colorado, hundreds of miles away from your own home; he’d seen you cry for him (however much you tried to hide the few loose tears) when everything went down with Minnesota; he’d seen you cry over the ‘heartfelt, charming’ film you’d put on one day (‘Red Dog’, it was called) that destroyed both your souls; and he’d helped you through grief, from the days you’d need space to the days you’d just need him to sit with you.

But never in your entire relationship had he seen you cry from terror, let alone such a cathartic release of emotion. He’d heard your wobbly voice crack over the phone and done his best to try to take your mind off it, but he knew by the way you’d just barely held it together at the mere sight of him that there was something amiss. 

“I know it’s scary, sweetheart, when you told me, I was scared too. It’s a completely normal reaction, okay?” He was talking softly, neck bent slightly so he could look at you, and his fingers tenderly swiped some of your flyaways back from where they’d escaped from your updo.

You ached at his compassion, the gentle touches and sneaking glances at your arm, and at the thought of him looking after your baby like that almost sent you down another emotional spiral, but you straightened slightly, trying a small smile no matter how it wobbled.

“I’ve never cried like that before.” Was all you said, a watery laugh falling from your lips just as he nodded.

“I know.” He offered a small smile, “Bet it felt good, though.”

“Cathartic.” You agreed.

“Today’s been pretty hectic for you, huh?” 

Oh, he had no idea. 

This time you smiled properly, eyes and lashes still wet as he passed you a tissue from the box next to the bed, you dabbing under your eyes.

“Yeah.” You inhaled through your nose once more, expelling out of your mouth, “I’m so tired. When we get home can we camp out on the couch?”

He smiled, crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes, “You’re insane if you think I’d let you do anything else after today.” You rolled your eyes at that, not having the heart to argue with him, “How’re you feeling now? Faint? Light-headed?” 

“No, I feel fine now. Do I look okay?” You scrunched up the tissue, throwing it in the bin, only to look back at Tyson, who was still standing between your legs and was arching a brow in your direction, his hands having moved from your body to come to rest on his own hips.

“You look stunning. You always do.” He deadpanned, thumbs caressing your cheeks before he leaned forward, you meeting him halfway in a delicate kiss.

“You have to say that.” 

“I don’t have to say anything. I could tell you look horrible, but then I’d be lying, and breaking our vows–”

“We’re not married.”

“Yet.”

“We’ve both got rings but nothing is actually official–”

“Let me have this one, please.”

“I just fainted, you let me have this one.” You complained, throwing your head back in his grip, hand instinctively going up to hold his wrist when he leaned in for another short kiss.

“Only because I love you.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fucking hell, you’re really gullible–”

“You just fainted, my so-called gullibility is reasonable.”

“Whatever. In all seriousness, though, does it look like I’ve been crying?” You pointed at your eyes, knowing they’d be red-rimmed and still a little watery after that, and he winced slightly.

“Yes.” 

You sighed, dropping your head, “You know what, I don’t even care anymore. I just want to go home.”

Tyson nodded, “Is everything sorted out with the doctors?”

“I have a follow-up appointment in a few days–”

“I thought it wasn’t serious?” His voice did that thing it did earlier, right after you’d told him you’d fainted. It went up, both in pitch and harshness, and there was a crease between his brows and a frown playing at his lips.

Said follow-up was actually a dating scan, your first ultrasound to make sure everything’s healthy and whatnot, but in the meantime you’d decided you wanted to tell him outside of a placeless hospital room surrounded by strangers.

Oddly enough it was Father’s Day in two days. Technically his first one, too.

You’d decided on his way to pick you up that that’s when you’d tell him, and you could keep a secret from him that long.

“It’s not serious, but because of the low blood pressure they just need to make sure it was a one-time thing.” You waved a hand, ignoring his gaze as you jumped off the bed, moving to pick up your backpack on the chair.

The handle of the tennis racket was poking out the top, taunting you (even despite the mess of emotion swimming around you right now, you were still kind of bummed you missed out on that), but before you could even bend down to pick it up, a very familiar hand reached out and snatched it up before  you, his black titanium ring glinting under the lights as he swung it over his shoulder.

“Can I come with you to that appointment?” He asked, holding his hand out for you to grab, innocently pretending to ignore the glare you were sending his way.

“Sure.” You nodded, feigning nonchalance, as though you hadn’t purposefully booked the appointment on the day you knew he didn’t have any plans.

***

Father’s Day, despite having only been two days away, came incredibly quickly. It felt like you’d barely blinked before you were sneaking out of bed in the morning to make Tyson some tea and breakfast.

You’d kept the breakfast simple, just a couple of slices of toast and jam, as well as some extras for you because you couldn’t risk him wandering downstairs and ruining his own surprise. The card you’d picked out with assistance from Kacey over FaceTime was in your bedside drawer, but it was the mug that was important, too.

Weirdly enough it was absolutely the right amount of subtle for a quiet announcement. It was a handmade mug, a dainty, cream thing with words pressed onto the inside base, so when he’d finish his tea the words ‘WE’RE PREGNANT!’ would be visible at the bottom. The plan was, you’d decided, to wait for him to nearly finish his tea, and then hand him the card, so that way the card thing would be fool-proof, but also partly because you were way too nervous to actually tell him yourself using actual words out of your own mouth.

You’d thought about what his reaction might be, but given the fact that he’d practically buzzed with eagerness after you’d asked him if it’d be okay with him if you didn’t get your implant replaced, and the fact that every time you went out for a foodshop he’d get lost and coincidentally be found in the baby clothes section, you’d say he’d probably have a pretty enthusiastic reaction.

Kacey had tried to bet $20 he’d cry, but given the fact that you also agreed with her, she’d dropped it completely.

You took a deep breath, straightening the plate on the tray to calm your nerves, your engagement ring getting caught in the light coming in from the window. It glittered, iridescent colours dancing against the cupboards, and it was at that moment that you realised you’d have to make adjustments to the wedding planning.

“Marriage. Before or after children?”

Looked like that one was still up in the air.

The quiet tiptoe up the stairs carrying a wobbling tray was one mean challenge and a half, especially considering the fact that you couldn’t see your feet and you were also trying to avoid any creaking floorboards.

You nudged the bedroom door open with your foot, peeking around the corner and cheering internally when you saw Tyson was still face down on his pillow, arms above his head, shoulders and back muscles prominent.

You paused, unable to help biting your lip at the view.

Fuck, you hoped your kids would have his hair.

You didn’t bother shutting the door behind you, making your way around to your side of the bed, the shadows from your figure blocking the light from the window causing Tyson to blink slowly at the interruption.

“Good morning.” You hummed, putting the tray on the floor and leaning across the mattress and gently pressing a kiss against his lips, quickly removing yourself before he had the chance to pull you any closer.

You heard a grunt of disapproval before he yawned audibly, arms stretching up from where you’d crouched on the floor to pick up his tea and toast.

“Morning.” He groaned, pushing himself to sit as you placed his toast on his bedside table and handed him his tea, his ring clinking against the porcelain.

Before you could walk back to your side, his free hand caught yours, gently tugging you towards him, a confused and bleary expression still on his face, “Did I forget something?”

You shook your head, kissing him once more when he puckered his lips in your direction, and he nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer before taking a sip of his tea and twirling the lone diamond ring on your finger before letting you go.

From the way you could feel his eyes burning into you when you climbed back into bed, your own breakfast in your hands, you thought maybe he’d caught on to something. That maybe he’d figured something was up to warrant a rare ‘breakfast in bed’.

“I just woke up earlier than usual, couldn’t wait for you to wake up.” Was all you said, hoping it’d suffice for now.

He nodded again, this time taking a bite of his toast, “How come you woke up early?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. You knew avoiding eye contact would be suspicious but if it was even more intense he’d definitely know something was up, “Just did.”

His chewing seemed to slow, and he furrowed his brows, “Are you feeling okay?”

You swallowed, anxiety levels slowly beginning to creep up, “Yeah, why?”

“You look flustered, is all.”

You pulled a face, “In what way?”

“I don’t know, you just—Are you not telling me something?” He was nervous now, his eyes wider than usual as he washed down his toast with a gulp of tea.

You held your breath as he did so, expecting him to look inside the mug but he stubbornly kept his eyes on you, assessing every square inch of your face like the apparent secret he was accusing you of was written there.

“Did you break something?” He brought the mug to rest on top of the covers on his lap, his spare hand playing apprehensively with his bottom lip.

You couldn’t help it when you laughed at him, “No.”

He still didn’t look convinced, and you found his confusion adorably endearing in that moment.

Until your phone dinged on your bedside table. Then, his expression narrowed, a hint of a smile curling at his mouth as you blatantly ignored it.

“Don’t you want to know who’s messaging you at nine on a Sunday morning?” He teased, placing his mug on his bedside table as he scooted further into the middle of the bed, purposefully crowding into your space.

You hid your face in your mug, tapping your fingers against the porcelain and attempting to hide the smile that had suddenly appeared on your face as he not-so-subtly manoeuvred his arm over your shoulder. There was a scuffle of fingertips against the surface of the table, and you saw him frown out of the corner of your eye, scruff just grazing your forehead as he looked over your head, successfully snatching up your phone.

He made no move to look at the home screen notification, instead just picking it up and planting it on your lap without a care.

You rolled your eyes, faking a dramatic sigh at his insisting, “I already know who’s texting me.”

At that he stalled, head tilting as he used the hand on your shoulder to tangle and play with your hair, “Who?”

You blinked, giving in and picking up your phone, ignoring his watchful eyes, “Kacey.”

“Kacey?” He echoed, “My Kacey?”

“Yeah.” You placed your mug and plate on the table, giving your phone your full attention.

“Why is Kacey texting you?” He rested his chin on your shoulder, breath fanning softly across your neck in a huff as you switched your phone off, not allowing him to read the messages, which – even taken out of context – were rather incriminating.

“Because we’re friends.” You shut your eyes to avoid being poked in the face by your own hair as he purposefully raked it over your face as he removed his hand from your shoulder.

“Obviously,” he drawled, rolling his eyes, “But you’re being weird.”

You sighed, throwing your phone to the end of the bed and giving him your full attention. 

He’d caught on already, before either of you had even finished breakfast. It was earlier than you’d initially planned for, but with the kicked puppy/borderline worried expression on his face as he fiddled with his ring and waited for you to ease his mind, you felt yourself soften. 

“Is it about the hospital thing?” He murmured, pursing his lips as though to brace himself for something bad.

His head was hung, but he was still looking at you, “Yes.” You held his hand, stopping the alarmed expression that had instantly taken hold of him, “But it’s nothing bad, I swear. I’m gonna get you something, but can you drink some more tea?”

You neglected to throw him a reassuring look, too focused on the task at hand, but bargained on the fact that he’d drink the tea like before: his eyes carefully trained on you as he took a few gulps to ease his nerves.

Your fingers caught the edge of the card, pulling it out of the drawer and slamming it shut to turn and face a severely anxious Tyson. His jaw was clenched and his fingers were tapping on the mug you’d given him.

When you produced the envelope, however, the tension in his jaw seemed to slacken, the unease melting into uncertainty – it only seemed to magnify when you, with shaking hands, passed it to him. 

He swallowed, the curve of his neck bobbing slightly, “It’s got my name on it.”

Your lip caught between your teeth for a moment (you absolutely tried to quell the rising agitation within yourself watching him, but it was partly a losing game), other hand offering to take the tea from his hand. 

He took the card from you gently, gladly letting you take his almost empty mug (you drank the rest of it, able to see the writing at the bottom), and held your breath in anticipation.

He untucked the lip of the envelope, gently sliding the card out. 

You’d put it backwards, the front design hidden from his eyes unless he turned it over, and waited. Your eyes briefly flickered to his shirtless chest. He was breathing a little heavier than usual, predictably from the nerves because you’d left him in the dark about something important, and you knew if you placed your palm over his chest his heart would be hammering.

He went to turn the card over, but stopped, his brown eyes flickering to you, “Why am I scared?”

You smiled, patience wearing thin, “Just turn it over.”

He inhaled deeply, flicking the card over.

He blinked.

The card you’d picked was pretty simple – on the front there was one acronym: DILF. It wasn’t in large letters either, about 96% of the entire front was blank, and there was a single full stop at the end. 

The message was pretty clear, you thought, but after about ten seconds of Tyson’s silence, his mouth repeating the word over and over, a slight crease on his forehead, perhaps from either denial or confusion, you’d concluded that he wasn’t completely grasping the message.

You remained quiet, heart hammering almost painfully against your ribs.

“DILF.” He muttered, opening the card, mouth parting in shock at the slip of paper that fell out onto his lap.

He made a move to pick up the paper, sending you a glance that had you thinking maybe he’d got a brief idea of what you were intending, but not let himself get too hopeful until he was properly sure.

Sure as if it came from your mouth, or sure as in a copy of your blood test results from two days ago in his hand with the words ‘pregnant’ scribbled on the receipt in your handwriting.

He froze, tensing on the bed. He seemed to blink a few times, before inhaling sharply, arms lip at his side and head swung in your direction, “I’m pregnant?” He breathed shakily, and you bit back a soft smile at the tears already glistening on his lash line and a slight quiver in his chin.

And at his muddled words you breathed a laugh, but before you could even move to confirm his accusation, he was shaking his head, “I mean, y…you’re pregnant?” 

You felt your own eyes prick, “Yeah.” You sniffled, curling into the pillow under your head from where you’d sunk back under the duvet when you’d given him the card. 

You showed him the mug, and like a snapped elastic band, as soon as he read the words imprinted there, dropped the receipt onto his lap and covered his face with his hands, shoulders shaking. Your reaction was delayed in itself – you’d expected him to be a little emotional given how excited he’d been at the mere thought of being a dad, but not to the uncontrollable sobbing extent.

After you put the mug back down on the side of the bed, you wasted no time in positioning yourself on his lap, gently taking a hold of his wrists and pulling them away from his face. His eyes were rimmed red and a little puffy, cheeks wet with tears, but he wasn’t frowning. There was a wobbly smile on his face that seemed to twitch every now and again and when you wiped his cheeks dry, unable to suppress your own grin, he seemed to calm down.

He wasn’t hiccupping anymore, but his breathing was a little heavy and his cheeks rosy.

“I’m glad I didn’t tell you when you were standing up.” You teased, brushing his hair back with your hand.

“Me too.” He sniffled, looking up at you through damp lashes and a watery gaze.

“Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that.” 

You tilted your head adoringly, “I’m not the one currently crying.”

He nodded, agreeing, “We’re really lucky. Some people wait years to get here, or for some people it just doesn’t happen, and I’m just so grateful, I…” he trailed off, eyes looking straight up at the ceiling to blink away a fresh bout of tears.

“It’s okay to cry.” You mumbled, sliding your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug as he sniffled again, his hands on your lower back, pressing you into him as close as he could. His uneven breaths tickled your neck, and one of your arms draped across his back, tracing lines against his skin in the soothing manner he likes.

After a couple of minutes, breathing back to normal and tears at bay, he pulled back, a question on his lips as, once more, you wiped away his tears, “When did you find out?”

You were so fucking in love with this man. Gone. Ruined. Whatever. 

Before you could even consider answering, he pushed himself further down the headboard, taking you with him as he placed his head on his pillow, pulling the duvet over your bodies and enveloping you both in a cocoon of warmth entirely too hot for mid-June.

“It was actually when I was in the hospital the other day. The hormones changes from the pregnancy made me faint, but it wasn’t until the bloodwork came back that I found out.”  He nodded, rolling you onto your side to look at you easier. His hand came up to the joint of your hip, rubbing back and forth as he listened intently.

“What was your reaction?” 

“I didn’t really have one until I saw you walk in to pick me up.” 

His brows quirked up at that, mouth curling into a smug smile, “That’s pretty romantic.”

You rolled your eyes, “You were fine with this,” you motioned between you both, “until you looked at me, and then you also cried – twice – so you can’t even think about–”

He silenced you with a sweet kiss, scruff tickling your chin, “I love you so much.”

“I know.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Can the fainting thing happen again, or was it just a one time thing?”

You shrugged, as much as you could given the close quarters you were both in, “Guess we’ll have to ask them tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” 

“The ‘follow-up appointment’ is actually a dating scan to see how far along we are.”

At this he breathed a laugh, “We have too much sex–”

“No such thing.” You denied, shaking your head vehemently, “It’s not my fault you look so gorgeous all the damn time–”

“Baby,” he groaned, it melting into a soft laugh, “you should look in the fucking mirror–”

“This flirting is exactly why we’re in this situation in the first place.”

“I can’t help it though.” 

You briefly turned around, fingers finding your phone by the side of your bed, “You’re gonna have to because you need to call Kacey and tell her you blubbered like a fucking baby–”

“Hey–”

“She wanted to put $20 on it–”

“You bet on me crying?”

“No, she wanted to but…” you winced, “I agreed, so.”

“You’re supposed to side with me–”

“I’m making you a Dad, just remember that.”

He blinked, pursing his lips to prevent himself from laughing at your deadpan tone. You were both joking, but at your last comment, a silence seemed to stretch between you, both of you really absorbing the truth to your words.

Tyson’s eyes seemed to soften, looking at you like a man most definitely in love, and he made a noise that seemed to come from the back of his throat, “We’re gonna be parents.” He grinned, almost wistfully, “I…”

“I know.” You passed him the phone, Kacey’s contact already lined up for him, “It doesn’t feel real.”

He shook his head, kissing you once more and taking the phone out of your hand.

It barely took five seconds before Kacey’s excited voice burst through the phone.

[divinelolita]

Hey omg ive been reading your storys and i cant stop ther all so good omg anyway can you make a fic with male reader x tom and bill. Basically we are bill and toms celebrity crush evry scene they were little like 2005 and like in 2006/2007

And like we reach out to them and ask if they wanna make a collaboration (like a song together) and every one from tokio hotel is excited to be working with us but tom and bill are like freaking out wean they see us infrot of them

KAULITZ TWINS X MALE READER

hii bae! I loved this request <3 I went off track near the end so pls forgive me 😋

For as long as Tom and Bill could remember, they had always liked M/N. I mean, who wouldn't? He was funny, handsome, and kind. At first they thought it was just admiration, but they found out that they had a true crush on this celebrity. The twins found this a bit strange though, as they almost never liked the same person at the same time. The two of them just couldn't stop loving M/N though, as much as they tried to. 

Georg and Gustav would sometimes tease the brothers about this, though. And today just so happend to be one of those days.

 "Seriously though, who's gonna walk down the isle with the dress?" Georg teased as he tossed a cracker into his mouth, Gustav giggling beside him. Bill just rolled his eyes and ignored the two as he sipped his coke. "Bill definitely has the legs for it." Gustav muttered, making Tom snort and Bill throw his can of soda at the blonde. Gustav yelped, flinching as the can missed him by a centimeter. "Oh,fuck you!" Bill sneered, although his cheeks flushed red. 

The tour bus door opened as Jost walked it. Everybody quickly fixed their posture and stopped goofing off, although they felt less tense as they saw Jost smile. "Well kids," he began, making Georg scoff before clearing his throat as Tom shot him a piercing look. Hey it wasn't his fault- Georg was 19, he wasn't a kid anymore! "Good news. We have just recently gotten a collaboration request from somebody. I'm sure you guys will be excited when-" Jost was cut off by Tom, who excitedly exclaimed "Avril?!". Gustav chortled quietly, his smiling dropping as quick as it appeared when he received a stern look from Jost. Bill gave a little smile to Jost, excited to see who he would make music with. 

"... No. I was going to say the collab was 'gonna be with M/N." The twins smiles fell quickly, a look of disbelief and excited in their eyes. "I...M/N? Like.. M/N L/N?" Bill coughed. All it took was a nod from Jost and the tour bus went wild. Georg whooped out loud, Gustav started to laugh, and the twins talked non stop. "Really?!" "We're gonna work with M/N?" "AHHHHHHH I CAN'T WAIT!" Bill and Tom squealed like little girls seeing puppies. Jost shushed them, the tour bus going silent apart from the little giggles from all members. 

"Hush, you sound like toddlers." Jost scolded, but he was smiling brightly himself. "But yes, we will be working with him." Georg quirked an eyebrow, looking at Jost expectantly. "Is he coming to our studio or..?" he questioned, glancing at Gustav to see if he knew. "Don't look at me you dumbass." Gustav muttered, rolling his eyes. "Yes. He should be at our studio.. in two days." When Jost said that Tom let out a small gasp. "T-two days? Really?" 

"Mmmhhmm." Jost concluded. "Now, M/N wanted to see if you guys wanted to......" 

-TWO DAYS LATER 😱😱-

Bil groaned as he looked in the mirror. Although he wasnt going out to brunch or photoshoots he had still did his makeup, yet he was too lazy to do his hair so it layed over his shoulders. Tom came in behind him, pushing him lightly to the side so he could get his toothbrush to brush his teeth. "Tom.. Are you nervous?" Bill asked, sitting on the closed toilet seat. Tom took a second before responding, brushing his teeth fast before he spat into the sink, washing out his mouth. 

"I'm always nervous before studio days, Billy. " He responded, going to wash his face with the soap. Bill groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. "Nooo Tom.. I meant about M/N being here." Bill pouted, elbows resting on his kneecaps as he rested his chin upon his hands. Tom shrugged, leaning against the wall. "Ehhh I guess so. But I'm not too worried, you?" Tom asked, adjusting his baggy shirt. Bill bit his lip," Aggh, I don't know! I think I am but I just-" Bill began, but he was cut off as Gustav banged on the door.       " Hurry the fuck up I gotta piss dude! ". Tom giggled as he opened the door, letting Bill out before himself. He gave his little brother a small smile. "C'mon, Bill. Don't worry about it. Everything will be okay." Bill softly smiled back. "Yeah.. Yeah." Bill nodded, "I'm okay." 

-at the studio-

Bill paced back and forth, humming Monsoon under his breath. Georg was adjusting his bass as Gustav played a few beats on his drums. Tom has his headphones plugged into his phone, listening to God knows what. It was mostly silent until they heard a few knocks on the door, Jost going to open it with a smile on his face. When he opened it, it was indeed M/N in all his glory. He smiled at Jost before smiling at all the band members, putting his coat on the cost rack in the corner. Georg smiled and introduced himself, going to shake M/N's hand as Gustav greeted him. Bill felt his legs to wobbly and Tom felt like he didn't have any more air in him. 

Bill had paused his pacing next to Tom, as Tom grabbed onto Bills elbow lightly. Bill smiled at Tom, excitement pulsing in his veins. He didn't even realise M/N was behind him. "Hey, Bill and Tom! What's up?" he greeted politely, holding out his hand. Bill turned around, his face red. He started at M/N for a second before he put a smile on his face and shook M/N's hand, his hand feeling limp as M/N held a firm grip. "Ah! It's so nice to finally meet you." Bill said with what he hoped was confidence. The (color) haired boy then turned to Tom and held his hand out, Tom gulping before taking it and smiling up at him." Hey, M/N..!" he greeted, his tounge playing with his lip ring. He shuddered slightly when M/N winked at him before retracting his hand. 

When they all decided it was time to discuss ideas, the G's came over and sat to the right of Tom. M/N took a seat between the twins, making them both blush and get flustered. M/N began to speak.  "Ah okay, well I was thinking about doing this because....." 

(you can like make up a song the made cuz I'm not writing allat 🙏🙏😍)

"Wow.." Tom said as M/N came to a conclusion. He really did like M/N's ideas as did the rest of the band. Gustav and Georg had even added a few of their ideas, which went with the theme of the song perfectly. M/N began to speak about different intros they could start with, but Bill lost track as M/N's hand brushed against his own. He felt like he had been electrocuted but..in a good way? He wanted it to happen again and again. He felt himself shuffle slightly closer to M/N, trying to disguise it under wanted to hear M/N more clearly. He nearly died when M/N smirked at him and asked his own opinion about the song. 

"I uh.. I think it sounds great so far! Really, it's perfect." Bill babbled, feeling himself grow more red. The two G's giggled under their breath. "I'm glad you think so!" M/N smiled at him. 

When everybody got set up, they began the rough draft. It actually turned out good, but redoing the song 3 times in a row definitely burned it into Tom's mind. Tom groaned after the 4th time, cracking his neck as he rubbed it. "Awhh, fuck man. My neck is killing me." Georg rolled his eyes, knowing that he too was bent over his guitar and he didn't feel any pain. M/N glanced over at Tom, laughing softly to himself as he reached over and began to dig into his shoulders and neck. Even though it would have hurt Tom normally, he felt himself lean into the touch as he flushed pink. 

He forced himself to hold back a small whimper when M/N hit a particularly sensitive spot, biting his bottom lip preventing himself from making noise. He blushed harder as he heard M/N chuckle as he looked at the dreadhead. 

-Later in the break room-

They all sat on couches in the break room, Bill smoking a cig as he was seated next to M/N, Tom on Bills  left. The G's sat infront of them, holding back laughs as he saw how jittery the twins were. Georg finished his water, going to get up to throw it out and get another. Gustav followed, giggling as he whispered something to Georg that made him snort and nearly choke on his own spit. 

So it was just the twins and M/N, yay! Bill continued smoking his cigarette as he leaned onchis brother, Tom humming the best of their new song lowly as he shook his leg. M/N looked between the two of them, smirking slightly. "So.. Y'all trying to grab lunch?" M/N asked, looking at the two of them. He noted how they both went flushed and hesitated before agreeing "Yeah!"they said in union, smiling softly at the celebrity. 

They landed at some Italian restaurant, ordering a pizza. (if u don't like pizza sorry 😴) M/N took a bitevas he realised that the twins would glance at him every few seconds, taking bites of their own food. "Mmhh? Is there something on my face..?" M/N jokingly said, holding back a giggle as he watched how surprised and flustered the boys looked. The two apologized as they blushed, looking down at their food. "Y'know, you guys are pretty bad at masking your feelings."

Tom nearly spat out his water as Bill looked at M/N with a scared expression.  "I-..what do you mean?" Bill started as he stuttered, Tom being quiet trying to recover from choking. M/N shrugged, taking a sip of his water. "I mean, I can tell you guys like me." M/N nearly laughed as he watched Tom's jaw drop and Bill blink rapidly. He spoke again before the twins could get a chance. "Really though, I don't care. You guys are cute anyways." He continued, taking another bite of his pizza as he grabbed another slice "Cute?" Tom repeated, smiling slightly. 

M/N chuckled to himself "Ehhh.. Ive liked you guys since.. He looked up as he pondered." 2006..?" ( it can be like 2007-2008 👍) Bill cocked his head to the side "You've liked us.. Both?" he muttered, feeling his palms get sweaty. "Yeah. I mean, who wouldn't?" It was really shocking Tom that M/N could speak like this with confidence, not being nervous about his feelings. "So... Now what?" Tom asked, spinning his ring on his finger. M/N raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Hmm, I dunno. I mean, you like me and I like you both.." Bills mouth opened and closed a few times before speaking. 

"Do you have to like,.. Pick?" He began, looking worried as he glanced at Tom. "I don't care if you and Tom date." Tom shook his head, about to say that M/N and Bill could date, before M/N spoke with a calm and easy tone. "It's easy. I date you both." Tom blinked s few times as Bill looked at M/N with curiosity. "... You can do that..?" he asked silently, biting his lip. Tom followed up, "What about like..jealously and that shit?" 

M/N smiled softly at both of them, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I mean obviously we'd talk about boundaries and jealously and communication." Bill nodded slightly, looking over at Tom. "I'm okay if your okay with it." Bill said, patting Tom's shoulder gently. Tom seemed to think about it for a few more seconds before he glanced at his brother and then at you, smiling. "I'm fine with it." 

"How much you wanna bet Bill will go down the isle in the dress?" They heard muttered behind them. Bills face scrunched as he turned, revealing the G's giggling. 

[green-cyber]

Paralyze me [Joost💙x Käärijä💚mini fic, but it’s sleep paralysis, mild NSFW] - Part I

2:14 am, August 5th, 2020

Joost felt it right away. The icy grip on his ankle. His body suddenly unable to move. He screamed, deafening silence hitting his senses in response. And all he heard was a hiss. He didn’t see it. The hand that violently grabbed his throat, fingers squeezing deliberately. Strong. He knew this one – a man in a dark grey suit and an old-fashioned hat. No eyes. No features. To be fair, he knew all of his torturers, and this one freaked the sh*t out of him the most.

[…this is not real… this is not real.. this is…]

On his back. Eyes wide open. He couldn’t even close them. Joost felt hot tears dripping down his cheeks. He knew how this would end. Till his last breath. The demonic laughter. Till his neck snaps.

[stop… please stop…]

He’s been through this so many times. So much so that when he sensed a new presence, for a short second in there, curiosity took over his dread. The pressure on his neck loosened. His room suddenly embedded in a greenish mist. […smells so good…] something exotic. A mix of pineapple and...

In his altered state of mind, consciousness sluggish, Joost couldn’t really tell what was happening. The new demon growled. Sounded more like a command and Joost could breathe again. Did he?... did he just chase away the hat-man?.. the thought fluttered in his mind failing to make any sense and Joost tried to move only to hear a playful giggle. It wasn’t menacing. Not at all. Just a little…

Jost gasped when a soft small hand with pointy nails caressed his inner thigh. [Holy sh*t!!..] his face suddenly burning, heat pooling in his lower belly as the fingers worked their way up towards his… and… and… f*ck… if there had been any coherent thought in his fuzzy mind, it had definitely evaporated now. Still unable to move, Joost gasped for air. Now for a totally different reason. Warm fingers found their way inside his boxers and Joost whimpered, heart pounding in his throat. Desperate to move. Desperate to feel. This was so REAL. The demon chuckled. And he was sure the demon must have lost his focus for a second in there or something. ‘Cause otherwise why would Joost be able to lift his head just a tiny bit? That’s when he saw him. Sharp canines. Pointy ears. Small body. Spikes? Joost wasn’t sure. The demon instantly sensed him looking and the last thing Joost noticed were his eyes. Blue. And demonically gorgeous. He’s never seen anyone with eyes like that. The creature looked at him. Pissed now.

[Herää!!]

Joost jumped, suddenly wide awake. Bed drenched in sweat. His weird delusion quickly dissipating into nothing.

[F*ck… I’m so f*cking dumb…]

First time ever in his life Joost regretted waking up from his sleep paralysis. With a boner. An impressive one that needed to be taken care of. Like asap.

~End of Part I~

Author's note: I guess I've been infected, sigh. I have jeest now. Stay away or join in the fun😂

[onlyherefortyson]

brb moving to Raleigh❤️

[blueskrugs]

Written in the Sand | Tyson Jost

it’s finally here! I started this fic in September, thinking it would be a cute couple thousand words, and then finally finished it four months and almost 30,000 words later. 

huge thank you to @antoineroussel​ who held my hand through a lot of this and also did the hard work of beta reading and editing all of this. 

recommended listening: Written in the Sand by Old Dominion (where else would I get title and inspo from?), Colder Weather by Zac Brown Band, and The Dance by Garth Brooks.

length: 29.8k words (lol)

this fic has now been broken into chapters for easier reading 

Are we written in the stars, baby, or are we written in the sand?

Tyson never meant to catch feelings. Really. It was supposed to be a one-night stand. Then it happened again, and again, and somewhere along the line it turned into regular hooking up. And, well, anyone would tell you that Tyson wore his heart on his sleeve. It wasn’t long before he was falling fast and hard. 

Tyson looked across the couch at where she was dozing, wearing one of his T-shirts. His birthday was in a few days. He’d already resolved to ask her out for real before then. This stupid not-quite-friends-with-benefits shit was getting old. It needed to end one way or another, for Tyson’s sanity—and his heart. If he was going to get his heart broken anyway, why prolong the inevitable?

But he was getting ahead of himself. 

November

It’s early in the season, too early to be celebrating wins the way they are. But they blew out the Canucks and the Sharks in consecutive games and don’t have another one for four days, so Gabe dragged them all out to a bar. There’s something special about this team, Tyson can feel it, and so can the rest of the guys.

Which is how Tyson finds himself a couple beers and a shot or two deep on a Saturday night in November, with JT squished against his side in the booth. The team is extra loud to account for the fact that they’re in a crowded bar; EJ is across the table chirping Andre about something or other. Tyson settles in and takes another drink of his beer. 

JT elbows him in the ribs. Tyson elbows him back harder on principle. 

“No, idiot, there’s a cute girl over there,” JT says.

“You have a girlfriend,” Tyson says, not following. He tries to figure out which girl JT is talking about, but there’s a lot of girls in the bar. 

“You don’t,” JT points out, and, oh. 

“I’m not really looking for anything,” Tyson says, because it’s true. Especially not some hookup with a girl in a bar. He doesn’t really roll that way. He really wants to focus on having a good season here. He still doesn’t know which girl JT is talking about.

Gabe, the nosy asshole, leans over Cale to give his two cents. “Josty, I think you need another beer.”

Tyson glares at his unfortunately almost-empty beer bottle. He glances over at the bar again. This time, a girl catches his eye and gives him a small smile over her friend’s shoulder. She is kind of cute, Tyson supposes. Tyson heaves a sigh and elbows JT again to force him out of the booth. A small cheer goes up. He flips them off without turning around. 

It’s even more crowded at the bar, but Tyson manages to squeeze in near the girl and lean against the bar while he waits for a bartender. The person on his left leaves with their drink, and then he’s next to the girl. He wishes he knew her name. She smiles at him again. 

He’s about to lean in and introduce himself when a bartender comes over and asks for his order. She’s smirking at him when he turns back.

“All the beers in the world, and you’re drinking Coors?” she asks. She has to lean in close to be heard, and Tyson doesn’t mind it. He makes an outraged noise, which only makes her grin grow. “I’m Madison,” she says. 

“Listen, Madison,” Tyson starts, but he doesn’t actually have a great argument. He’s just not very picky when it comes to beers. He closes his mouth. Madison laughs at him and takes a sip of her drink. “And what’re you drinking, huh?” Something with a lime wedge on it. Red, maybe. The dim lighting makes it extra hard to see colors.

“All beer is gross, first of all,” she says. “Second of all, it’s a vodka cran.”

“Can I buy you another?” Tyson asks. Her glass is less vodka cran and more ice at this point.

On Madison’s other side, her friend groans. Tyson probably deserves that. Madison rolls her eyes at him. He deserves that, too.

“Real smooth,” she says. Tyson winks at her. “I don’t even know your name,” she points out. Oh, yeah.

“I’m Tyson,” he says. He sticks out a hand for handshake, and Madison takes it, though she raises an eyebrow and laughs at him again as she does it. 

“Okay, Tyson,” Madison says, “you can buy me a drink.” Tyson thinks she sounds amused. 

Tyson fist pumps and turns back to catch the attention of one of the bartenders again. 

Drinks procured, Tyson loses track of time as he chats with Madison, as much as they can over the din and constant jostling. By the time they’re both finished, Madison’s pressed close to Tyson’s side. She’s looking up at him expectantly. 

Fuck it, Tyson thinks. He leans close and settles a hand on Madison’s hip. “Can I take you home?” he asks.

Madison slides a hand around the back of his neck. Her nails scratch the curls at the nape of his neck, and Tyson suppresses a shiver in a warm, crowded bar. 

“God, I thought you were never going to ask,” she says. 

Some of the guys are still posted up at tables in the corner. He’d forgotten about them. He hears a few jeers over the din of the crowd, and he flips them off with the hand that’s not clutching one of Madison’s. 

“Friends of yours?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at the cluster of rowdy hockey players, letting Tyson drag her towards the door.

“Unfortunately,” Tyson says, once they’re safely out the door, and he can talk at a normal volume again. “Can I kiss you?” he blurts, pausing in trying to fish his car keys out of his pocket.

Madison laughs again, but it’s not mean. Tyson likes it, the way she already seems comfortable teasing him. She doesn’t answer, instead just slides her hand around Tyson’s neck again and pulls him down to kiss her. Tyson’s dizzy with the feeling of her lips warm against his, there in the middle of the sidewalk. He makes himself pull away.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

Madison lets Tyson keep a hand on her thigh as he drives, edging up under the hem of her shorts. He’s dying to be able to kiss her again. She lets him as soon as she’s out of the car and pressed up against the passenger door. Then again, in the elevator until they’re both breathless, and even more once they’re safely inside Tyson’s apartment. Against the front door, tripping over themselves down the hallway, and, finally, finally, twisted up in Tyson’s sheets. 

Madison stirs next to Tyson, knocking him out of his bask in the afterglow. Her hair, once nicely curled, is a mess. Tyson’s probably doesn’t look much better, actually.

“I should go,” she whispers.

Tyson wants to argue. To tell her she can stay. But that’s too much, too strange. He rolls over to kiss her again, instead. She pushes him away with a soft giggle.

“Not helping,” she says. She sits up. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, course,” Tyson says, nodding too hard. Madison slips out of bed and collects her clothes. If Tyson watches her ass as she goes, who’s to blame him?

He’s dozing when she re-emerges, fully dressed and a little less disheveled. 

“Can I get your phone number?” Tyson asks without thinking. That’s not what this was supposed to be. He told JT he wasn’t looking for anything just a few hours ago. He just knows he wants to see Madison again.

She hesitates. Tyson understands. 

“I’d really like to see you again,” Tyson says, maybe too honest for a hookup, but it’s late. He can’t be blamed for the things he says after 1 AM. “And it’s late, I’d sleep better if I know you got home okay.”

Tyson can see the moment she gives in. Madison sighs and steps closer to the bed, but there’s something soft in her eyes when she looks at Tyson. 

“Where’s your phone?” she asks. Tyson reaches for his bedside table out of habit. His phone never made it there in their haste to get into bed. He turns back to face Madison, sheepish.

“I don’t know, actually.” Probably still in the back pocket of his jeans, but he can’t remember if he stopped to take it out and set it somewhere, either. 

Madison sighs at him again and shakes her head. Tyson watches as she scoops his jeans off the floor and digs through them before coming up with his phone. He probably should have done that himself, but Madison tosses it at him before he can push the sheets away from where they’re pooling at his waist. Tyson isn’t expecting it and fumbles the phone. He has to dig it back out before he can unlock it and toss it back to Madison. 

She catches it with ease, and Tyson sticks his tongue out at her. Show-off. She ignores him, thumb swiping idly through his apps until she finds his contacts. She types for a moment, oddly serious. Her own phone vibrates in her other hand. She throws the phone back at Tyson. He doesn’t drop it this time. 

He unlocks his phone to see that Madison’s made herself a contact—just her first name and a smiley face typed out— and texted herself—a little blue bubble that just says, tyson.

She checks her phone again. “I really should go,” she says softly. “My ride’s here,” she adds.

“Wait,” Tyson says. He reaches out a hand, wraps his fingers around her wrist when she steps closer and tugs her down so he can kiss her one last time. “‘Kay, now you can go,” he whispers.

Madison cups his cheek and gives him one quick peck, then she’s out the door.

Tyson’s not quite asleep when his phone vibrates next to him, and she slaps at it, squinting at it in the dark. A text from Madison reads, home x. Tyson falls asleep smiling. 

He almost expects that to be the end of it. He knows he said he wanted to see Madison again, but he’s not sure either of them are going to follow up on it. The Avs’ schedule gets busy—away, then back home, then gone again.

But it happens again. Tyson’s high on another win when he dials Madison’s phone number. It rings long enough that Tyson thinks she’s not going to answer.

“Hello?” Madison says, startling Tyson. 

“Oh,” he says. He didn’t think he’d get this far. 

“Tyson?”

“Are you busy tonight?” he blurts. It’s a Saturday night, he’s expecting her to say that she’s going out with friends or something. Tyson’s just getting home from the game himself. 

He’s surprised when she says, “Not really.”

“Oh,” Tyson says again. He pulls his tie off over his head and tosses it aside. 

“Tyson? This is a booty call, isn’t it?”

“Uh. Maybe?” Tyson says. “Is it working?” Tyson surveys his apartment. He’d cleaned before leaving for Dallas, and he’s barely been home long enough to make a mess again. Though, his unpacked suitcase is exploding in the corner of his room where he dumped it when they got in late the night before. 

“God, you’re so bad at flirting,” Madison says. Unfortunately, she’s endeared by it. “I can be there in like thirty minutes, text me your address.” 

Tyson fist pumps when he hangs up the call. He frantically texts Madison before going to change into sweats. He’s fidgeting restlessly on his couch when Madison calls him again thirty-six minutes later. 

“Can you let me up?” she asks.

“Oh, shit, yeah,” he says. He doesn’t bother with shoes, just swipes his keys from his kitchen island and heads downstairs.

Madison’s waiting awkwardly in his lobby when Tyson steps off the elevator. She spots him and grins when he waves at her. She wants to hug him, for some reason, when he approaches her, but that’s not what they are, so she settles for taking his hand and twining their fingers together when he reaches out for her. 

Tyson doesn’t pin her against the elevator wall to kiss her after the doors close behind them, but Madison can tell he wants to. She squeezes his hand, and Tyson pulls her into his side.

“Little excited, huh?” Madison teases, looking at Tyson’s feet.

He wiggles his socked toes and grins at Madison. 

“Well, duh,” he says. The elevator doors open again. Tyson all but drags Madison towards his apartment. He’s kissing her before the door is shut all the way. They stumble over to Tyson’s couch, and Tyson’s pulling Madison into his lap before he’s even settled. She lets him kiss her for a few minutes before she pulls away.

“Is this going to become a thing every time you guys win?” she gasps. 

“You know who I am?” Tyson doesn’t ask, resting his forehead on Madison’s shoulder to catch his breath. “You watch hockey?” he asks instead. He’s not sure it’s a better question than the one he didn’t ask. 

Madison twists her fingers in the hair at the base of Tyson’s neck. “Not avidly. I really didn’t know who you were the first time, but my friends and I were out the other night, and I saw you on TV.” She tugs a little on his hair, and Tyson tilts his head back to look at her. She’s watching his face closely, waiting for his reaction.

Tyson’s relieved, in a weird way, that she didn’t know who he was when they hooked up the first time. He’s just not sure how he feels now that she’s back in his lap, and evidently knows he plays for the Avalanche. Madison’s unwavering, looking steadily back at Tyson. 

“What, so you’re just fucking me because I’m a hockey player now?” he jokes, or tries to joke. He thinks it falls flat.

Madison laughs. “No, you idiot, I’m fucking you because you’re kinda cute.” She rolls her eyes, and Tyson pouts a little. “I told you, I didn’t know who you were the first time. I’m not chasing anything, Tys. Besides, if I were chasing hockey players, I’m sure there are single Avs players who score more goals,” she teases.

“Hey, I scored a goal tonight!” Tyson protests. 

“I know, baby,” she says, kissing him quickly. 

“Did you look up my stats?” Tyson asks, distracted. 

“I like you, okay?” Madison says, ignoring him. “Wouldn’t be here for any other reason.”

Tyson has to kiss her again. They don’t end up making it to the bedroom. 

“Do you have to go?” Tyson whines, watching Madison sit up and search for her clothes. Tyson thinks her T-shirt ended up behind his couch.

Madison pauses. Tyson’s curls are a disaster, and Madison kind of wants to mess them up more. “And what exactly would we do if I stayed?” she asks, eyebrows raised. She threads her fingers into Tyson’s hair, tugs once, because she can. 

Tyson blushes a little. “I dunno, watch a movie?” Madison makes a face. Tyson’s phone got buried in the couch cushions, and he fishes it out to look at the time. “Okay, I guess it is kinda late.” Tyson’s stomach growls. “Do you want to order pizza?” he asks instead. 

Madison finds her shirt and checks the time on her own phone. “I really should get home,” she says, apologetic. “I hate getting Ubers late at night.” 

“You can spend the night,” Tyson says without thinking. At the look on Madison’s face, he says instead, ”Or, I could drive you home. Whatever.” 

“‘Whatever,’” Madison scoffs, shaking her head. But she grins at Tyson and pulls her shirt over her head. Tyson briefly mourns the loss of her bare chest. “I guess I could go for pizza,” she says. 

“Wait, for real?” Tyson asks. He realizes he probably sounds too eager. 

“Don’t make me change my mind,” Madison warns, but her smile is playful. 

She’s still standing next to the couch, and Tyson has to pull her back into his lap. She giggles as she settles across Tyson’s thighs. He kisses her cheek, the corner of her mouth, before she turns her head and captures his lips with her own. They kiss for long minutes, Tyson doesn’t know, time slowed down and unimportant. That is, until Tyson remembers he’s hungry and has to pull away. 

“Pizza?” he asks, somewhat nonsensically, panting a little. 

Madison kisses him again. Tyson tightens his grip on her hips, but pushes her away. “As long as you order pepperoni.” She slides off Tyson’s lap and slumps onto the couch next to Tyson.

Madison suddenly realizes that she’s tired, her eyes feeling heavy as she watches Tyson order pizza. She considers for a second, before carefully poking him in the ribs with her toes. Tyson doesn’t flinch. Madison stretches and settles with one of her feet across Tyson’s lap. He drops his hand to her ankle without looking down, thumb rubbing small circles across the bone absently. Madison closes her eyes and dozes. 

She’s woken up again by Tyson gripping her foot and shaking it. She’s melted further into the couch cushions, bones heavy with exhaustion. Tyson smiles at her.

“Pizza’s here, babe,” he says softly.

Sure enough, there’s a pizza box resting on the coffee table. It smells enticing enough to rouse Madison the rest of the way. She reaches a hand out, intending for Tyson to give her a piece of pizza, but he wraps his fingers around hers and pulls her to sit up. She leans into Tyson’s side. He laughs quietly and drapes an arm across her shoulders. Madison could probably fall back asleep like this, Tyson warm and solid next to her. Tyson hands her a slice of pizza, and Madison’s actually too hungry to resist. 

Tyson turns on some show on Netflix while they eat. Neither of them are paying much attention, but it fills in the silence nicely. It’s cold and dark outside, the city of Denver sleepy, but inside Tyson’s apartment, it’s cozy and warm. 

It’s dangerous waking up next to Madison the next morning. It’s something Tyson could get used to far too easily. Madison’s still asleep when he rolls over in the early morning light. She’s rolled over to face him in her sleep, face soft and hair a mess. Tyson’s not sure what time it is. He should maybe get up, but he’s not in any rush. 

Madison blinks awake to find Tyson watching her. She rubs at her eyes and rolls onto her back.

“Whatchu lookin’ at?” she mumbles. She turns her head back to look at Tyson. 

Tyson grins lazily back at her. “You, duh.” 

Madison facewashes him. Tyson grabs her wrist and wrenches her hand away, cackling. “You’re the worst,” she says over his laughter. 

Tyson scoots closer and sticks a foot in between Madison’s legs. No ulterior motive, just wanting to be close. Okay, maybe a teeny bit of ulterior motive: Tyson’s toes are cold. He’d wheedled Madison into wearing a pair of his sweatpants and a T-shirt before they’d fallen asleep. She looks like she belongs in Tyson’s bed. 

Madison watches Tyson closely as he settles back in. She tries to read the expression on his face, the small smile on his lips. She’s not sure what any of it means.

“So what next?” she asks softly. Two hook-ups and a sleepover does not a relationship make. 

Tyson knows what she’s asking. He runs through their upcoming schedule in his head. They’re about to leave for a week. That’s about as far as he gets. They can worry about all that later. All he knows that he wants, no, he needs to see Madison again. 

What he says now is, “Breakfast?” 

December

Madison doesn’t hear much from Tyson for a while after that. It’s not like she expected to, really. She knows the Avalanche went on another long road trip, and it’s not like they need to be texting each other constantly. 

Madison finds herself checking the Avalanche box scores after each game. Tyson gets two goals while they’re gone. Not that she’s counting, or anything. 

Tyson means to call. He really does. Or even text some. But in the air somewhere over Canada, he realizes he’s never actually talked much with Madison. He doesn’t know anything about her, unless you count what she’s like in bed. He’s never been good at small talk, or the talking phase. Which, when he thinks about it, is probably why he’s still single. 

It’s not until he’s staring down three and a half weeks of nothing but practices that Tyson picks up his phone again. 

Madison answers faster than he’d expected. “You’re not bored already, are you?” she asks. “It’s only been two days since you had a game.”

It’s only been one day since their last game, actually. Tyson whines into the phone. “Yes, I’m bored, okay?” Madison laughs at him. Tyson makes a face, even though she can’t see it. “We never get this much time off, it’s weird,” he goes on. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re a smart boy, Tyson,” Madison teases. “Went to college and everything, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

That’s not to say that Tyson doesn’t have ideas, and he thinks Madison knows what he’s angling for because she’s not a fool. She’s really going to make him work for this one. 

“I mean, I guess I could watch some movies or start a new TV show,” Tyson hedges. 

“Watch The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings trilogies,” Madison says absently. “Could get you through a good couple of days.”

Tyson takes his opening. “You could always come over and watch them with me,” he says. 

Madison groans, as if they both didn’t see where this conversation was going. “You’re terrible,” she tells him. 

“No, really, we can just hang out,” Tyson says. And if hanging out leads to other things, well. “Don’t you have teammates you can hang out with or something?” Madison asks, skeptical. 

“I see them literally every day”—Madison laughs again—“and I want to see you,” Tyson adds. “Really.” 

Madison pauses on the other end of the line. “Fine,” she says finally. “Should I pack a bag?” 

Tyson freezes. He hadn’t gotten that far in his scheming. Never considered Madison would even want to spend that much time with him this weekend. He’s quiet long enough that Madison says something.

“Tyson?” she says softly.

Tyson shakes himself, tries to get his brain back online. “I, uh, I mean. I guess? You can, if—if you want?” he stammers. It’s Friday afternoon. He still has some practices over the weekend, but the long break between games suddenly seems less daunting with the prospect of Madison staying over, staying in his bed.

“I’ll be over soon, okay?” Madison says. 

Tyson isn’t sure if he manages to say anything else before she ends the call. Fuck. He’s getting the sense for the first time that he’s in over his head. He isn’t so sure he minds, actually. 

The weekend passes quickly once Madison’s there, though Tyson swears time slows down when he’s with her. They do actually end up watching The Lord of the Rings movies—which Madison had proudly produced from one of her bags, along with several packs of microwave popcorn, which had sent Tyson into a laughing fit— in between falling into bed (or the couch, more than once) and Tyson dragging himself out of the apartment to get to skate. 

“We really should do The Hobbit first, since those come first chronologically, but other than the first one, they’re not as good,” Madison explains at one point, gesturing with a handful of popcorn. Tyson just nods. “And we could have probably had a proper marathon and watched all the movies, but that’s like twenty hours, and I figured you had other plans, anyway.” She looks sidelong at Tyson, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re kind of a nerd, you know that?” Tyson asks later, breathless from making out. He’s pressing Madison into the couch cushions, their legs tangled together underneath a blanket. He’s aiming for light, teasing, but he’s not sure he quite gets there.

Madison tugs on the hair at the nape of Tyson’s neck. “Yeah, but you like me anyway.” Madison’s smirking a little. 

Tyson absolutely does like her anyway. It might make him like her more, actually.

Madison’s standing at the kitchen counter with the last of her coffee on Sunday morning when Tyson comes up and presses himself against her back, pinning her in place. He presses a kiss to the spot where Madison’s neck meets her shoulder. Madison tilts her head to the side some. With better access, Tyson drags a line of kisses down her neck and across the top of her shoulder.

Madison sets her coffee mug down on the counter with shaky hands before she drops it. 

“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” Tyson mumbles into Madison’s skin. 

From this angle, Tyson can see the hickey on Madison’s collarbone from the day before. He’s got one to match, somewhere. He wants to get his mouth on it again, make it darker, make sure it’s there for days. 

Tyson feels it more than he hears it when Madison laughs. She reaches up and drapes an arm backwards over his shoulder, holding him in place as much as he’s pinning her. 

“Sorry, bud, but some of us have to get back to the real world,” she says. She doesn’t make any effort to move. 

Tyson bites her shoulder, gently, but pulls away. “Same time next week?” he asks next, only half a joke. 

Madison turns around and looks at Tyson. “Tyson, next week is Christmas.”

“Fuck, is it?” Tyson tries to remember what day it is. His family is coming to town this year. He should probably put some effort into decorating his apartment, then. 

Madison just shakes her head at him. Tyson wonders if his mom and Kacey will be able to look at him and know what’s going on in his heart. 

Tyson’s apartment feels empty without Madison in it when he gets back from practice later that afternoon. She’d filled in all the quiet spaces Tyson didn’t realize it had—a spare throw blanket strewn across the couch, her makeup bag overflowing on his bathroom counter, an extra set of dirty dishes in the sink. 

He misses her. More than he should, probably. Huh.

This was never supposed to be anything. Just a hook-up from the bar. Now Madison’s spending weekends at his place, and Tyson wants to see her all the time. He should’ve seen it coming, maybe. He’d never been good at flings. 

He thinks about calling Madison, but that seems like too much. He’s been told he can be too much, sometimes. He puts his phone back down, flops face down onto his couch for a while, instead. 

Tyson spends the next few days doubling down on getting ready for Christmas. He had, in fact, forgotten that it was coming up so soon, and he still needed to get presents for his grandpa and sister. He digs out his meager box of Christmas decorations and sets them up around his apartment. It’s not very much, but it does go a long way towards making the apartment feel a bit more like home. 

He holds off on texting Madison until Wednesday. He shouldn’t have; his family’s flying in later this evening. They’ll be in town all week, and Tyson might actually go insane if he can’t see Madison, get his hands on her again until after the new year. 

If Tyson ends up picking up his family with sex hair, well. They probably didn’t notice. He’d shoved a ball cap on, anyway, though Kacey still raised her eyebrows at him in the rearview as she slid into the backseat next to their mom. He’d flip her off if he could, but his grandpa is right there.

Tyson makes it through the holiday without an interrogation from his mom and sister, but he knows it’s coming. The blanket Madison had left behind is still laying across the couch, and Kacey’s been curled up under it more often than not. Madison texts Tyson on Christmas morning, a simple merry Christmas! with a heart emoji that has Tyson grinning stupidly at his phone. Kacey clears her throat loudly, on the floor next to Tyson. He feels himself blushing as he fumbles to lock his phone and drop it face down next to him. His mom and sister share a look over his head. 

Madison texts again a few days after Christmas, asking if Tyson wants to grab lunch and hangout. Tyson does, obviously, but he has to figure out how to dodge his family for a few hours, first.

“I’m gonna go workout, I think,” Tyson announces. He needs to find his shoes, a water bottle. He is restless, too many days off in a row. 

Kacey looks up from her computer. “Oh, can I come? I’m supposed to be working out over break, too,” she says. 

“Uh,” Tyson says, trying to stall. He should’ve thought this through better. Kacey raises an eyebrow at him. “I was actually hoping for some time alone, y’know?” Kacey’s other eyebrow raises. 

“Are you saying you’re tired of us?” his mom asks, teasing. 

Tyson’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Madison again. He hasn’t had a chance to respond to her yet. He hates lying to his mom, but he still says, “Yes? No?” Tyson’s never been one to need space. “I just—”

“It’s okay, Tys,” his mom says gently. “Have a good workout, sweetheart.” 

Tyson doesn’t linger, grabbing his coat and shoving his feet into the first pair of shoes he sees on his way out the front door. He texts Madison that he’s on his way in the elevator. He does pick up lunch for both of them, too, on his way over to Madison’s place. He’s thoughtful like that. 

It takes just about all of Tyson’s self-control to actually sit next to Madison on her couch and eat first.

“How’d you ditch your mom and sister?” Madison asks eventually, eyes still on the TV, playing some random Hallmark Christmas movie. 

Tyson swallows. “Told them I was working out,” he admits.

Madison turns to smirk at him. “Working out, huh?” she asks, laughter in her voice. 

Tyson nudges her knee with his foot. “It’s not entirely a lie,” he points out. His lunch is practically finished anyway, so he sets it aside and slides closer to Madison. “I think they’re on to me, though.” He never could hide anything from the people he loves. 

Madison swings her feet into Tyson’s lap. She’s still eating, and Tyson’s about fifteen seconds away from taking her lunch from her and just kissing her. His leg bounces—his restless energy has only gotten worse since landing on Madison’s couch—until Madison digs her heel into his thigh, forcing him to stop. 

She’s looking at him carefully. “Would that be such a bad thing?” she asks. “People knowing about us?”

Tyson considers. It’s not like there’s anything to keep a secret, really. He realizes that no one even knows that he and Madison had hooked up more than just that night at the bar. He hadn’t realized how close he’d been keeping them to his chest. 

Madison’s still waiting for an answer. Tyson squeezes her ankle where it’s still draped across his lap. “I guess not, actually,” he says. 

Madison grins at him and, finally, finally, sets aside the remnants of her lunch. Tyson slides his hands up Madison’s legs, underneath her thighs, and drags her into his lap, finally, finally, getting his mouth on hers. 

Kacey and his mom are waiting for Tyson when he sheepishly slips in his front door an hour later. Kacey’s smirking, leaned up against the counter with her arms crossed. Tyson could kill her. He tugs the collar of his hoodie up, hoping it covers the hickey Madison left on his collarbone. 

“Good workout, Tys?” Kacey asks. Tyson flips her off. Even their mom smacks her arm in reprimand. 

“Great, actually,” Tyson says, allowing himself a moment of smugness in spite of his embarrassment. He hopes he’s not blushing. Kacey laughs. 

“If you’ve gotten yourself a girlfriend, Tyson, you know you could always bring her around,” his mom says gently. Tyson winces. He really hates lying to his mom. And he definitely could not just bring Madison around.

“Yeah,” Kacey chimes in, “I want to meet whoever’s got you sneaking around like an idiot.”

“She’s not—it’s not like that,” Tyson rushes to say. “We’re taking it slow, I guess.” He’s definitely blushing now, his face warm under the matching gazes of his mom and sister. He forces himself to shrug, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. “We’re just…friends,” he finishes lamely. 

Kacey and his mom pin Tyson with matching pitying, yet disbelieving looks. Tyson hunches his shoulders, nervous underneath their gazes. He thinks of Madison telling him that it’s okay if people know about them. Thinks about having to tell his mom and baby sister that he’s just fucking around with a girl he thinks he could fall in love with, given the chance. He decides against it, for now. 

Tyson shrugs again. “I mean it,” he says. “It’s not really anything right now. I don’t know.” 

He escapes to his bedroom for a shower and to bury his head under a pillow for a while, until he feels like he can face his family again.

The days seem to pass more slowly after that. Tyson works out—for real, thank you very much— and watches way too many cooking shows with Kacey, curled up under a mountain of blankets on the couch. Tyson doesn’t know the last time he got to spend this much time with his family during hockey season. It’s nice, even as he starts getting restless again, anxious to be back on the ice with his teammates. 

There’s a team New Year’s Eve party at Gabe’s. It’s pretty chill, especially as far as team gatherings go, but Tyson maybe has a little too much to drink. He’s surrounded by happy teammates with their significant others, and he’s maybe feeling a little alone. He cracks open another beer.

It’s almost midnight when Tyson sinks onto a couch next to JT and slips out his phone. No notifications. He doesn’t know what he expected. Madison had posted on her story earlier in the night that she was celebrating with friends, too. Tyson stares at his phone for a moment. 

miss you, he carefully types out. It takes him longer than it should to get it right, drunk as he is, squinting at his phone and concentrating really hard on hitting the correct keys.

Madison responds quickly, way faster than Tyson had expected her to. The typing bubble appears almost immediately. Tyson waits.

miss you too tys, it says. Then, please drink some water. 

“Who the fuck is Josty texting?” EJ yells from across the room. Tyson realizes that he’s been smiling stupidly down at his phone. He makes to lock it and put it back away, but he’s not fast enough. JT grabs Tyson’s wrist and wrenches it around so he can see his screen. 

“Who’s Madison?” JT asks, quieter than EJ. He lets Tyson lock his phone, finally.

“She’s—” Tyson pauses. He doesn’t want to say that she’s no one, because that’s not really true. He doesn’t have any other word for her, either.

JT’s been watching Tyson’s face carefully. He knows better than anyone that Tyson isn’t good at hiding his emotions, and something must be showing on Tyson’s face now. JT’s eyebrows raise. 

“Is that the girl you brought home from the bar like a month ago?” JT asks. Tyson hesitates, pulling his hand free from JT’s grasp. Tyson’s hesitation is enough. “Oh my God, are you still fucking her?” 

Tyson winces. It sounds crass when JT says it like that. “We’ve hooked up a few more times,” he admits. JT doesn’t need to know about the number of times she’s slept over, too.

JT laughs at him, shaking his head. “‘Not really looking for anything,’ huh?” he teases, echoing Tyson’s own words from that night in the bar. Was it really only a month ago? Feels like Madison’s been in Tyson’s life way longer than that, with how quickly she’s taken over Tyson’s thoughts.

“I wasn’t!” Tyson protests. He shoves JT a little for good measure. He’s so drunk he doesn’t think it has the intended effect. JT just sways back into Tyson, leaning more of his weight on Tyson’s side. 

It’s almost midnight. Around them, teammates are moving around, finding someone to kiss. Someone’s opened champagne, someone else is passing full flutes around. Tyson takes one when it passes in front of him. JT digs his elbow into Tyson’s ribs one last time before getting up to find Sydney. 

Tyson’s left on the couch, alone. He pulls his phone back out as people begin counting down around him. Madison’s text comes through just as everyone starts cheering and the clock strikes midnight. Happy new year Tyson! 🖤 

Tyson closes his eyes and drains his glass of champagne. 

January

Tyson usually dreads January. It’s a long, cold, and dark month. The grind of the season feels like it’s at its…grindiest. The game days and travel days start to run into each other and turn into one exhausting, never-ending blur. Someone’s always getting sick, or injured, 

He’s perfectly happy to throw himself back into hockey when the new year finally rolls around after so many weeks without it, but he hates how quiet his apartment is without Kacey hanging around, being annoying. He leaves his Christmas decorations up, anything to make his apartment feel lived-in.

Tyson lasts until the team gets back from Chicago on the fifth before he calls Madison again. She doesn’t answer. Tyson stares at his phone after it goes through to voicemail, bewildered. That is, until Madison texts him back and reminds him that she has a “normal job with normal hours.” Right.

Madison calls Tyson back on her way home from work. His groggy, mumbled “‘ello?” makes Madison smile when he answers, voice tinny over her car’s speakers.

“Did I wake you?” she teases. 

Tyson scoffs, but says, “...yeah. Sorry for calling you earlier,” he adds. “I’d just gotten home and wasn’t thinking.” “You can’t just call at 10:30 in the morning on a Wednesday, Tyson,” she admonishes. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I was just—” missing you. Tyson dismisses that thought. Too earnest. “I was just bored,” he finishes. Not much better, actually. 

Madison’s quiet for a while, focused on driving. She realizes she should figure out where she’s actually headed. “Were you calling for any particular reason earlier?” she asks. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

“I could never forget you,” Tyson says quickly. “I just wanted to see you,” he admits after another moment. 

Madison turns on her blinker at a red light. She should be turning left, towards her apartment. She turns right, towards Tyson’s place. “Did you want me to come over,” she asks, wanting to hear Tyson say it.

“I mean, obviously, yeah. I can make us dinner.”

Madison laughs. “Oh, sure, you’re gonna make me some toaster waffles, huh?” She had seen the Instagram stories. “You really know how to woo a girl, Tys.”

She can practically feel Tyson’s playful outrage on the other end of the phone. He sputters for a minute before saying, “Okay, I can order us dinner.” 

Madison’s almost to Tyson’s apartment building. She hates that she already knows how to get there so easily. “Are you going to get your ass out of bed and meet me downstairs?” There’s the sound of something hitting the floor, like Tyson actually rolled out of bed.

“I’ll be right there!” Tyson says, before hanging up. The radio cuts back in, music playing softly to fill in the abrupt silence of the call ending. Madison parks and turns her car off, sitting in silence for a minute. She wonders just what the hell she’s doing, what she’s getting herself into. 

Tyson sprawls onto his couch and pulls Madison into his lap almost immediately after they’re both through the door. Madison rolls her eyes, but she goes willingly. Tyson’s perfectly content to just make out for a while, all sense of urgency gone as soon as he gets his hands on Madison. He’s not sure how long they’re there before he realizes something and pulls away.

“Have you ever been to an Avs game?” he asks.

“What?” Madison lost her shirt at some point, and Tyson’s thumb has been fiddling with one of her bra straps for the last several moments. She’s admittedly a little distracted. She processes what Tyson said. “Tyson, are you seriously thinking about hockey right now?” She tries to roll off his lap, but he digs his hands into her thighs and refuses to let her move.

“I’m always thinking about hockey, a little bit,” he defends. Madison rolls her eyes at him again. What Tyson had really been thinking about was introducing Madison to JT, then he’d remembered that she said she didn’t watch much hockey, and somehow that’s what had come out of his mouth. Madison still looks a little bit like she wants to smack him. “I told my best friend about you,” is what he ends up saying next. “He’s actually the one who pointed you out to me at the bar that night, and he wants to meet you for real.”

JT had actually said that, in between chirps about Tyson’s hooking up habits. Some of the other guys had picked it up, too, but Tyson wasn’t ready to subject Madison to them yet. Except maybe, like, Cale. And maybe after a game at the arena wasn’t the best place to introduce Madison to his friends, but Tyson could get tickets for Madison and a friend, ask Mel to introduce herself or something, and then meet Madison after with JT. 

Tyson realizes Madison hasn’t answered him. She’s still in his lap, but she’s tense. Tyson squeezes her thighs again. 

“You don’t have to, obviously,” he says softly. “I dunno, I just thought you might want to meet the guys.”

Madison relaxes a little. “You really want that?” she asks. 

Tyson can’t help but grin at her. He kisses her again, slowly. “I do.”

Later, when they’re sitting at Tyson’s little table eating dinner—that Tyson did actually cook, thank you very much—Madison knocks her ankle into Tyson’s. Tyson swallows his mouthful of food and traps her foot in between both of his. Madison had gotten re-dressed in one of Tyson’s sweatshirts, and Tyson’s doing his best to feel normal about it. 

“So, did you have a day in mind for me to come to a game, or had you not thought that far ahead?” Madison asks. 

Tyson tries to run through their upcoming schedule in his head. “Uh?” They’re home for a lot of January. “Next Friday, maybe? The…14th?” He can’t remember who they’re playing, but that’s not really important. Tyson squints over at the printout of their schedule he keeps on his fridge. “We wouldn’t be able to hang around because we fly out that night, I think.”

Madison looks faintly overwhelmed suddenly. It might be for the best that the guys will only be able to say hi briefly, actually. “Sure? Whatever you want, Tyson.”

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Tyson reminds her. He feels a bit as if he’s thrown her off the deep end, even though she’s the one who pushed Tyson to tell JT in the first place. 

Madison shakes her head. “No, it’s okay, I just didn’t really expect it.” 

Tyson pulls a face. “Maybe I’m tired of keeping you a secret.” He doesn’t know what he was trying so hard to protect, now. 

Madison stares at him for a long moment, face unreadable. Tyson stares back. Finally, Madison drops her fork with a clatter and leans across the table to kiss Tyson. The fierceness of the kiss surprises him, Madison’s lips hard against his, her hand sliding around the back of his neck. Tyson cups her cheek and tries to soften the kiss, but Madison pulls away just as quickly as she’d kissed him. 

Tyson blinks at her, bemused. He’s not sure what just happened. It feels significant somehow, something unspoken changing between them. Tyson turns back to his dinner.

Madison sees Tyson a few more times over the next week and a half before the game. Tyson acts the same, but Madison feels like she’s on edge, counting down the hours until Friday. Tyson doesn’t seem to notice.

“What the hell am I supposed to wear to a hockey game?” Madison complains over the phone to her older sister, Emma, who she’d asked to come with her on Friday. Emma just laughs at her. Madison’s seen what WAGs wear to games—cute outfits with leather pants and heels. Madison doesn’t own that type of shit, and she’s not really a WAG, besides. She doesn’t own a jersey, either, and it would probably be weird to wear a jersey that’s not Tyson’s anyway. Madison’s pixie pants from Old Navy and sensible work shoes aren’t going to cut it.

“What were you wearing when you met Tyson?” Emma asks, as if she doesn’t know they met in a bar.

Madison snorts. “Nothing that’s appropriate for a hockey game.” Madison regards the handful of sweaters she’s pulled from her closet. One of them is close enough to Avalanche burgundy, maybe. Somewhere in her dirty laundry is one of Tyson’s sweatshirts. Madison’s not bold enough to wear it.

Game day is overwhelming, to say the least. Tyson had gotten them good seats, but Madison’s not used to being around so many people, and it’s noisy all around her. It’s easier to follow the pace of the game in person than on TV, she learns, and her eyes follow Tyson whenever he’s on the ice.

Tyson scores a goal late in the first period, and Madison’s probably the one who cheers the loudest for him. 

Madison waits outside the arena for Tyson after the game. Her sister’s waiting in the car, telling Madison it was too cold to stand around. She watches some of the other players make their way past her and onto a waiting bus. It’s cold, and she hates Tyson briefly. It’s only another few minutes until Tyson appears, closely followed by someone. They’re arguing, but Tyson breaks off as soon as he sees Madison waiting for him.

Tyson forgets himself for a moment. He runs over to Madison and wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her once. Madison laughs at him. He ignores JT snickering behind him in favor of leaning down and kissing Madison quickly. 

Madison’s blushing when he pulls away, but it might just be from the cold. 

“Nice goal tonight, babe,” Madison tells him. Tyson just shrugs. 

Behind them, JT clears his throat. Tyson kind of forgot about that part. He drapes an arm around JT’s shoulders and drags him closer. “This asshole is JT,” he tells Madison. “He’s one of my best friends.” To JT, he says, “This is Madison, be nice.”

JT scoffs. “I’m always nice.” He grins at Madison. “I’m also the reason Tyson went up to you at the bar, so I guess you could thank me for whatever’s going on here.” Tyson smacks him. 

“You can get on the bus now, actually,” Tyson says. JT’s laughing again as Tyson tries to elbow him out of the way. Madison’s smiling, too, though, amused by their antics. 

JT does leave, then, and Madison and Tyson are alone. Or, as alone as you can be with half of Tyson’s teammates watching them through the bus windows. Tyson steps closer to Madison.

“Thanks for tonight,” she says. Tyson barely did anything, but he’s not going to say that now. Tyson should really get on the bus, but he can’t tear himself away. Madison’s hand finds his, tangling their fingers together and squeezing once before letting go again. “Text me when you get to the hotel, yeah?”

Tyson has to kiss her again. “I will, I promise.” He really needs to go. One last kiss, pressed to Madison’s cheek this time, then Tyson forces himself to step away. Madison’s gone when he turns around as he steps on the bus. Tyson shakes himself and goes to find JT, flopping into the seat left open for him. 

“You’re in deep, bud,” JT says. Tyson glares at him. 

“God, I know.”

February

Tyson should be planning a vacation somewhere warm. That’s what most of his teammates are doing, with the All-Star break coming up in just a few days, everyone ready to escape winter in Colorado. What Tyson’s doing instead is texting Madison, trying to convince her to spend the week with him. 

He doesn’t understand why she’s being so resistant to the idea. She’s spent nights and weekends with him before. She’s spent more time around his friends, even sticking around the other night when JT and Cale crashed their evening. 

Fine I’ll just stay over at yours then, Tyson finally texts as a last resort. 

Madison leaves him on read for, like, two hours. He spends most of that time trying to figure out what he could have said to make her pull away so suddenly. 

Tyson’s this close to actually driving over to Madison’s to finish this conversation-slash-argument in person when she finally texts him back. 

I don’t think that’s a good idea either, Madison has texted. Tyson stares at it. Tries to type a response, deletes it. 

Before he can think much more about it, Tyson’s grabbing his car keys. He ends up driving aimlessly around Denver for a while before he heads towards Madison’s apartment. He’s worried he’s too upset to go straight over, that he’ll just start saying things he doesn’t mean out of frustration. 

He still knocks on Madison’s door a little too hard, maybe. She looks confused when she answers the door. Tyson realizes he probably should have given her a heads up. 

He’d planned what he wanted to say in the car, but what he blurts out instead is, “What, are you sleeping with someone else on the side?” Tyson could play it off as a joke any other time, but right now it comes out too accusing, too hurt. 

Madison’s face does something complicated before she grabs him by the wrist and hauls him inside. 

“What the fuck, no,” she says. “Tyson, what the fuck?” she repeats.

He crosses his arms. “I don’t get why you don’t want to spend the week off with me.” She’s already spent days at a time in his apartment. This week shouldn’t be any different. 

Madison’s always hated cuffing season, is the thing. Maybe it’s just because she usually finds herself lonely through the winter months. She’s not stupid, this thing with Tyson has an expiration date; if she’s being honest with herself; they’ve been pushing it ever since they extended all of this past a one night stand. With every day that passes, Madison feels herself falling just a little more for Tyson, and she feels the impending end creeping closer. She needs to put some space between them before she gets her heart broken.

She just doesn’t know that Tyson’s busy falling, too. 

Madison doesn’t know how to put all of that into words without blowing up her spot, though. She settles for saying, “I just need some space, I think.” It’s not exactly a lie. 

Tyson’s face falls, and Madison immediately wishes she could take the words back.

Tyson’s quiet for a moment before he quietly says, “I didn’t do anything, did I?”

“No, God, of course not,” Madison rushes to assure him. She tries to collect her thoughts. “It’s just that, with Valentine’s Day coming up, and winter ending, I don’t know, I think I need to figure out what I want.”

Tyson forgot about Valentine’s Day. He doesn’t even know their schedule that far out. He supposes they have been hurtling towards something they’ve yet to define lately. But, “Hey, we’ve got a good thing going right now, don’t we?” Madison nods hesitantly. “Who said anything about changing that?” Tyson’s heart has other ideas, but he can worry about that later. 

Madison takes a deep breath. “I guess,” she says, and Tyson grins at her. 

“I’ll drop the All-Star break thing if you want. I just wanted to spend some time with you.” He doesn’t spend a lot of time with people other than teammates. It’s nice to change things up. 

“Like you wouldn’t be calling me all the time to hook up, anyway,” Madison teases. Tyson can’t argue with that. 

He ends up sticking around for a while, sprawled across Madison’s couch with her tucked against his chest between his legs. Madison turns on The Hobbit, even though Tyson doesn’t think they quite managed to make it through The Return of the King the last time they had a Tolkien marathon. 

When he leaves later, pulling Madison in for a chaste kiss in the doorway, he realizes it’s the longest they’ve spent together without it ending in a hook-up. It’s kind of nice. 

Tyson does back off some after that. All-Star break is already upon them, anyway. He can handle winging it solo for a few days. Probably. 

Actually, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t properly cleaned his apartment since their last long break back in December. The Avs have been home a lot in January, too, and his fridge is looking pretty bare these days.

He considers texting Madison and asking if she wants to tag along for his groceries, but he thinks that might be crossing the line of “too domestic.” He throws himself into cleaning and does his best to not think about texting her, instead.

It’s Madison who breaks the silence first. She lasts two days. She thought time and distance was what she needed, but that was before she realized how much she missed listening to Tyson chattering at her in between falling into bed. 

She texts, i’m coming over, before she can think better of it. She makes the now-familiar drive to Tyson’s apartment on autopilot. Tyson’s seen her text by the time she parks, and he readily buzzes her into the building. Madison doesn’t even have to knock when she gets to his door; Tyson jerks it open like he’s been waiting, beaming.

“Burky’s here,” he says, pulling Madison in for a kiss. Madison peers around Tyson. She hasn’t met Burky yet, but she vaguely recognizes the guy standing in the middle of Tyson’s living room as another teammate. 

“Hi,” he says. Awkward. Madison likes him.

“This is Madison,” Tyson announces, somewhat needlessly. His brain shorts out a bit after that, unsure what he can call Madison. ‘Friend’? ‘Hookup’? Definitely not ‘girlfriend’.

“Tyson hasn’t stopped talking about you since you came to the game a few weeks ago,” Burky tells Madison, interrupting Tyson’s runaway train of thought.

“Hey,” Tyson whines. “You don’t need to tell her that part.” 

Madison laughs. “Nah, it’s okay, JT’s already told me.”

Tyson’s busy trying to come up with a sufficient way to threaten JT whenever he sees him again as Burky slips out the front door, and suddenly he and Madison are alone. 

Madison starts to apologize for showing up with little warning, but Tyson cuts her off, pushing her—as gently as he can—against the nearest wall and kissing her. 

“Hi,” he breathes when Madison ducks her head to pull away. He kisses her again before he can admit how much he missed her.

“I missed you,” Madison says, which. Tyson can handle that.

“God, me too.” Before, he might have felt overexposed by telling her that, but, now, it’s just comforting to know she misses him the same way he misses her. “I was actually about to make dinner, if you’re hungry?”

He starts to head towards his kitchen, not waiting for Madison to follow. He hadn’t really planned much further than deciding to cook, but he can probably figure out enough to make for two people. Madison leans against the counter as Tyson opens his fridge and peers inside. He could make chicken, but that’s boring.

“I did just buy burger patties,” he says, sort of thinking out loud.

“Tys, make whatever you want,” Madison tells him, laughing a little. “I’ll eat it.”

Tyson twists around to grin at Madison. “Be careful, you haven’t actually seen me cook yet.” 

He’s a passable cook, actually—his mom wouldn’t let him leave for North Dakota before he knew the basics, and he’s only learned more since then. He plucks the burger patties out of the fridge.

Tyson talks while he cooks. He’s not even sure what he’s chatting about after a while, but Madison listens intently to everything he says. She winds up sitting on the counter near him, and he keeps stepping away from the stove to steal kisses in between sentences. He roasts up some red potatoes, too, and digs his hamburger buns out of the freezer. “They last longer,” he tells Madison, sticking two buns in his toaster. “Also, don’t tell Nate I’m eating white bread.”

Madison has not yet met Nathan MacKinnon, and she doesn’t think she’d be telling him what Tyson’s eating for dinner on a night off when she does meet him, either.

Tyson spends almost as much time dramatically plating the food as he did cooking it. Madison pours them both glasses of wine. He finally slides a plate in front of her but whips out his phone before she can take a bite.

Madison groans. “Tyson, oh my God.” She hides behind her wine glass while Tyson takes a picture of their plates.

Tyson reaches across the table to pull Madison’s hand away from her face. “Relax, I’m just sending it to JT.”

Madison scoffs, “Sure, just JT,” but she sets her wine back down.

Tyson tries to sneak another picture of her, but she catches him. The artificial shutter clicks just as she smiles sweetly at Tyson and flips him off.

“Delete that,” she whines.

“Absolutely not.”

They continue to chat over dinner. Tyson drips ketchup on his shirt, and Madison laughs so hard she chokes on her wine, which sets Tyson off, too. It’s several minutes before they can collect themselves again. Until Madison meets Tyson’s eyes across the table and bursts into laughter again.

“What’s so funny?” Tyson whines, still dabbing futilely at the stain on his shirt.

Madison wipes at her eyes, trying to catch her breath. “Nothing, nothing.” It really wasn’t that funny. “I think I’m just over-tired.” She doesn’t tell Tyson that she’s been worrying about him, about their relationship, so much that she hasn’t been able to sleep well.

Tyson frowns at her, anyway, like he knows what she’s not saying. He glances at the time. 

“Do you want to take a nap or something? It’s still early enough.”

Madison knows that if she falls asleep in Tyson’s bed now, she will not be getting out of it until morning at least, and, “I didn’t pack anything.” 

She doesn’t know why she was half-expecting Tyson to shut the door in her face when she arrived. She definitely hadn’t been planning on staying the night. 

Tyson frowns harder. “You can always wear something of mine. Unless…you don’t wanna stay?”

Madison pushes a piece of potato around her plate with her fork for a moment before answering.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to stay,” she says quietly.

“What?” Tyson’s so surprised he drops his fork. He snatches it back up and points it accusingly at Madison. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course I want you to stay. I literally always want you to stay.”

Madison can feel herself blushing and she ducks her head so Tyson can’t see.

Tyson goes on. “Plus, it’s a Friday night, we can stay up late and watch a movie, then sleep in tomorrow. I’ll even make you breakfast!”

He’ll probably actually persuade Madison into going out for breakfast, but that’s an argument he’ll save until the morning. Tyson decides he’s done eating and pushes back from the table. He tries to clear Madison’s plate, but she glares at him and swipes her plate away. Tyson makes grabby hands for it.

“C’mon, I’m not making you clean up after yourself, you don’t have to.”

Madison shakes her head and holds her empty plate farther out of Tyson’s reach. “You cooked, I clean, baby.”

“That’s not—” Tyson’s so distracted that Madison snatches his plate and darts towards the kitchen. “Hey!”

He chases after Madison, who’s laughing again. Tyson loves the sound of Madison’s laugh, the way it fills his apartment. He waits until the plates have clattered into the sink to press up behind her. He kisses her shoulder, her neck, before burying his face in the crook of her neck. Madison shudders and leans back into Tyson.

“How about neither of us clean up, and we go watch a movie instead?” Tyson mumbles into Madison’s skin.

Dishes can wait; Tyson needs Madison on top of him, like, five minutes ago. He doesn’t wait for her to respond before he loops an arm around her waist and drags her over to the couch. She grunts when he pulls her on top of him, but she’s pliant as he arranges both of them until they’re comfortable. He even pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over Madison’s back.

Madison snuggles in, the top of her head nestled perfectly under Tyson’s chin. He had intended for some making out, but now that they’re there, he’s fine with actually turning on a movie. He’s pretty sure Madison’s eyes are closed already, anyway, her breathing already starting to slow down and even out. Tyson scrolls for a while aimlessly before he settles on something stupid he’s probably seen before. He keeps the volume low. He dozes a little himself, absently rubbing Madison’s back underneath her shirt. She mumbles in her sleep and shifts closer.

It’s late by the time the movie ends, and Tyson rouses himself. They should both move to the bed, but he’s loath to wake Madison. She’s cute when she sleeps.

Tyson nudges Madison gently in the ribs. She stirs and blinks blearily up at Tyson.

“Hm?”

“Let’s get you to bed, baby,” Tyson whispers. He starts to move, and Madison makes a grumpy noise and snuggles back in. “C’mon, c’mon, it’s more comfy, I promise.”

He gets Madison up with quite a bit more poking and prodding. She’s unhappy with being woken up, and Tyson’s doing his best not to laugh at her. He nudges her towards the bathroom and gets a glare for his troubles, but she does dig out her toothbrush. 

Tyson roots around for an old shirt for Madison to wear. He holds it out to her when she emerges from the bathroom, but Madison bypasses the shirt and kisses Tyson instead. He tries to keep it gentle, but Madison whines and presses closer. Tyson drops the shirt in favor of sliding his hands along Madison’s shoulders, her ribs, down her hips. They’re not very coordinated as they fall backwards onto Tyson’s bed. Their feet tangle as Tyson tries to push even closer, pinning Madison to the bed as they continue to kiss.

Madison breaks the kiss to yawn in Tyson’s face.

He huffs out a laugh, and Madison whines again. “No more, or you’re gonna fall asleep on me.”

He watches as Madison squirms around until her head is on her pillow. She’s already half-asleep again. Tyson leans over the foot of the bed and fishes around for the sleep shirt he dropped. He tosses it to Madison, and it lands on her face. She tears it away to glare at him.

Tyson’s even polite and doesn’t stare at Madison’s chest as she strips off the shirt she had been wearing and shimmies into his shirt.

He also wins the argument over breakfast the next morning, and triumphantly takes Madison to breakfast at Snooze. Madison’s grouchiness only lasts until a plate of French toast lands in front of her. 

They’re out of town the day before Valentine’s Day. It’s just Dallas, and they’ll fly home after the game, but Tyson’s not actually sure where the line is between him and Madison and February 14th. Romantic dinner is absolutely out of the question. So are roses, probably. Tyson still wants to do something though, which is how he ends up on the website for a local flower shop while he’s supposed to be napping after skate. He scrolls for a few minutes before he remembers that he’s colorblind, and he should probably enlist some help.

JT and his judgmental eyebrows are at Tyson’s hotel room door seven minutes later. He shoulders his way past Tyson without a word, settles next to Tyson’s laptop on the bed.

“Flowers?” JT asks. “For your not-girlfriend?” He’s still being judgy, but Tyson knows he’s amused a little, too.

“Shut up, at least I’m not sending her roses,” Tyson says, trying to defend himself. He flops down on the bed next to JT. JT’s already busy scrolling. ”You need help picking the right colors, don’t you,” he says, teasing.

“Maybe.” Tyson’s never really understood flowers—they all sort of look the same to him—but girls are supposed to like them. Tyson’s never claimed to understand girls, either. 

JT clicks around a few times before he punches Tyson in the shoulder.

“Ow,” he complains, sitting up and peering over JT’s shoulder. “...What am I looking at?”

JT sighs. “I don’t know, some pink and purple flowers.”

Tyson squints closer at the photo of the arrangement JT picked. “Wait, is that a rose? I said no roses.”

“It’s pink, it’s fine.” JT tilts the screen away for a second. “You’re adding on a stuffed animal.”

“I am?” JT gives him a look. “I mean, sure.” JT turns the laptop back towards Tyson, and he dutifully fills in his credit card information. He has to hunt for Madison’s address in his phone, but then he’s pressing the confirmation button, and that’s it. “That’s it? That was easy.” 

JT snorts and shuts Tyson’s laptop. “Sure, easy after you asked me for help.” He facewashes Tyson. “You’re welcome.” 

“I’ll buy your coffee before the game,” Tyson offers, ignoring JT’s sarcasm. “Besides, you’re the one of us in a cute, long-term relationship.”

JT smirks at Tyson over his shoulder, heading for the door. “You could change that for yourself, you know.” 

“Working on it!” Tyson yells as the door shuts behind JT.

Tyson mostly forgets about the flowers after that, with the game, and the flight home, and crashing into bed and sleeping for almost ten hours. He hopes Madison likes them, hopes he isn’t pushing it too far.

Madison isn’t expecting the knock she gets on her door the next morning. She’s even more surprised when she opens her door and finds a small vase of flowers waiting on her doormat. There’s a teddy bear propped up next to the flowers; she hugs it to her chest as she carries the flowers inside. She has to set the teddy back down with the flowers to take a picture to send to Tyson.

She sends, should I be worried about a secret admirer? Tyson, eternal dork that he is, sends back the smirking emoji and the emoji blowing a kiss. Madison adds a selfie of herself hugging the bear and says, come cuddle?

Tyson probably, maybe, goes a little over the speed limit on his way to Madison’s. 

March

Fucking Calgary. Tyson’s face hurts. He gingerly sticks his tongue through the gap where his front teeth used to be, but moving hurts too much. He sits back in the passenger seat of JT’s car with a quiet groan. The training staff had been adamant that Tyson couldn’t drive himself home, and Tyson wasn’t really in any shape to put up a fight. JT looks at him sideways, something amused in the tilt of his eyebrows.

All this and they didn’t even fucking win. 

“Want me to call your mom?” JT asks. 

Tyson groans again. He really should call her. He knows she’s worried, and if he doesn’t tell her he’s fine—mostly— she’ll probably take the next flight into Denver to check on him herself. She’s pretty great like that. 

He should probably text Madison, too. 

What Tyson really wants to do is go home and pass out for about twelve hours. He’s already scheduled for emergency dental work in the morning, though, and then Tyson’s going to have to beg the training staff to let him play on the road trip they’re about to head on. He hasn’t even packed yet. 

JT holds his hand out for Tyson’s phone. Tyson fishes it out of his hoodie pocket and slaps it into JT’s hand. JT waves it at him.

“Unlock it, dumbass,” JT says. Tyson could grumble about how JT definitely knows his passcode, but he just takes his phone back. “And dial your mom while you’re at it, I can’t do it while driving.” Tyson settles for a disgruntled huff and does as he’s told. 

He only half-listens, eyes closed, as JT talks to his mom, repeated reassurances that he’s fine, and, no, she doesn’t need to come down, and, yes, JT will keep an eye on him. 

They’re almost to Tyson’s apartment by the time JT hangs up. He doesn’t hand Tyson’s phone back. Tyson cracks open his eyes to squint at JT.

“Need me to call your little girlfriend, too?” he asks. The way he says it isn’t mean, but Tyson bristles anyway.

“Not my girlfriend,” he manages, swiping for his phone. Not yet, anyway, or maybe not ever. Tyson’s working on it. JT lets him take it, but Tyson doesn’t miss the raised eyebrow he gets before JT turns back to the road.

JT insists on walking Tyson to his front door, then following him inside. Tyson’s too tired to begrudge the fussing. Plus, he does feel like shit, and it’s kind of nice, even if he’ll never, ever tell JT that. JT hovers in the bedroom doorway as Tyson kicks off his slides and faceplants into his pillow.

“Ow,” he says, gingerly turning back over.

JT snorts at him. “Need anything?” The trainers gave Tyson painkillers after the game, and it’s not like he can brush his teeth—or what’s left of them, anyway. He settles for flipping off JT. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll lock the door on my way out.” Tyson probably owes him one after this. 

He barely remembers to text Madison a thumbs up emoji before he falls asleep.

Tyson grimaces when he sees himself in the mirror the next morning. His jaw is swollen and bruised, and he can barely open his mouth. He’s not sure he wants to see the state of his teeth, anyway. A knock on his door drags him away from his mirror.

Madison knocks again, unsure if Tyson’s awake. She should’ve called, or texted, before she showed up. She shifts anxiously from foot to foot while she waits for Tyson to answer. It’s only another few seconds before the door swings open, and Tyson appears. He looks miserable as he leans against the door. 

“You look like shit,” Madison says. She waits until he steps back before pushing past him and inside his apartment. 

“Thanks,” Tyson mumbles, following Madison to the kitchen. 

She hops up onto the counter and thrusts one of the smoothies in her hand at Tyson. “Breakfast,” she says.

Tyson takes it and takes a wary sip. It’s his favorite flavor, and he takes a bigger drink. He’s halfway through slurping his smoothie before he remembers to say anything else.

“I’ve, uh, got the dentist this morning, then I’ve gotta meet the team to fly to New York,” he tells Madison. He talks carefully around his swollen gums. 

Madison shrugs. “Just wanted to check on you, bud,” she says. She sets her smoothie aside and holds her arms out to Tyson. He steps into her arms and lets her hold him. He wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face in the crook of her neck. “Looked pretty rough out there last night.”

Tyson grunts. Madison pokes him in the ribs until he squirms away. He takes a petulant drink of his smoothie.

“Do you need any help with anything?” she asks. 

Tyson still hasn’t packed. His dirty laundry has piled up. He should really clean his apartment. 

Instead, he shakes his head, muttering, “You don’t have to.”

“That’s not what I asked, Tys,” she says, crossing her arms. She stares him down. 

Tyson cracks. “I’ve just got a bunch of cleaning to do, is all.” It hurts to talk too much. He forces himself to shrug, tries to do the math on how much time he has before the dentist and before heading to the airport to get everything done. 

Madison doesn’t seem concerned. “Okay, where do you want to start?”

“You don’t-” Tyson starts. You should just leave, he wants to say, but doesn’t. 

“Shut up and drink your smoothie, Jost,” Madison tells him. 

Tyson shuts up and drinks his smoothie. 

He goes to start a load of laundry while Madison tackles his kitchen. He’d run the dishwasher the day before, but what hadn’t fit had piled up in the sink, and he had never exactly gotten around to emptying it. More dirty dishes piled up in the sink. Tyson stands in his bedroom for a moment, listening to the sounds of Madison putting things away in his cabinets.

He doesn’t know when she learned where everything goes.

They work around each other in silence for a while. Tyson stops a few times and watches the confidence and comfort with which Madison moves around his apartment. He likes it more than he should, probably. 

He’s got clothes in the dryer when he realizes he should’ve left already. He’d gotten a lot of work done the night before, and he’s got more appointments for when they get back to Denver at the end of the week.

He looks around his half-cleaned apartment in despair. He’d managed to pack enough to get by, he thinks. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to borrow socks from JT on a road trip, anyway. Madison must see the look on his face, because she walks over to Tyson. He looks down at her as she places her hands on his hips.

“Go, I can handle the rest of this,” she says. They’d made good progress, but most of Tyson’s laundry—anything that hadn’t gotten immediately packed—still needs to be folded. “Just leave me the apartment key. I’ll finish up, and make sure everything’s locked up. Promise,” she tells him.

Tyson can’t ask her to do that, and he tells her as much. That’s like. Girlfriend shit. He doesn’t say that part. 

What he ends up saying is, “Are you sure? You really don’t have to.” 

Madison leans up on tiptoes to press a quick close-mouthed kiss to Tyson’s lips. “I know. But I want to help you, babe. Let me help you.” 

Tyson sighs. This isn’t a fight he’s going to win. Madison watches him with something like satisfaction on her face as he finds his keys, carefully unhooks his apartment key and hands it over, but there’s something soft in her eyes, too. Tyson can’t bear to think too hard about what that look means, so he steps around Madison and goes to grab his bags.

Tyson gives her a quick kiss on his way past. He wants nothing more than to kiss her properly, like she deserves, but he doesn’t think his jaw could handle that. Madison grabs Tyson’s wrist before he can get far. He turns to look at her again, a question on the tip of his tongue, when she slips a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss him again. It’s almost desperate, but slow and gentle. Tyson lets himself get lost in it for a second. Madison squeezes his neck once before she pulls away. She gives him a soft smile. Tyson presses his forehead to hers for another second before he regretfully pulls away. 

“See you in a few days,” she whispers. 

Tyson deserves all the chirps he gets for being late.

The road trip fucking sucks, to say the least. Tyson’s jaw hurts more often than it doesn’t, and he ends up with more penalty minutes than points. He’s looking forward to going home and sleeping in his own bed for a minimum of twelve hours.

He panics, too, a little. It’s become startlingly obvious that he’s fucking head over heels for Madison, and he has no clue what to do about it. They’ve got a good thing going, he thinks, and he doesn’t want to mess with it, really. He doesn’t really want things to stay how they are, either. 

So, panic. He thinks about JT calling Madison his girlfriend, just a few days before. He thinks of his own realization that the lines between hooking up and relationship have become blurred. What he needs is distance, some clarity. The time difference between Denver and the East Coast is an easy enough excuse to start; they’re busy, and it’s easy to let texts from Madison go unanswered for a few hours, or a few hours longer than a few hours. 

Madison must get the hint, because her texts peter out after a few days. 

Tyson is trying to find his keys in his carry-on bag as they step off the plane when he remembers that he left them with Madison so she could lock up his apartment for him. He’s locked out of his apartment and being iced out by Madison, and all he really wants is to go to sleep and not talk to anyone.

He sheepishly calls Madison as he leaves the airport. She sounds normal when she answers, and she doesn’t hesitate to say, “Sure,” when he asks if he can pick up his keys. Tyson climbs into his car tiredly and puts Madison’s address into his phone GPS.

Tyson’s only been to Madison’s place a few times. He hasn’t realized until now that he usually prefers having her over at his apartment. He likes seeing her there, forcing him to make room for herself in his life, at ease in his bed. He shakes those thoughts off. 

Madison makes him wait when he knocks on her apartment door. He stands awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Finally, after what feels like forever, Madison swings the door open. She doesn’t move back to let Tyson in, keys already in her hand. 

“Hi,” Tyson breathes. Madison raises an eyebrow at him. Tyson gets the sudden urge to apologize. He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Thanks again, uh, for helping me with everything,” he says eventually. “I owe you.” He hasn’t seen his apartment yet, obviously, but he knows Madison left it cleaner than it’s been since he moved in, probably. Madison’s breath catches. That was the wrong thing to say. “No, you don’t, Tyson,” she says shortly. She tosses Tyson his keys. He’s not expecting it and fumbles them. The sound of them hitting the ground is deafening. Tyson’s exhausted, and he’s only so strong.

“Can I come in?” he asks. “Please?”

Madison regards him. Tyson looks pathetic, if she’s being honest with herself, worn-out and worn-down. His swelling has gone down since she last saw him, but he looks uncomfortable. She gets the feeling it’s not just about his jaw. She, too, is only so strong. “C’mere,” she says, finally stepping back and opening the door wider. Tyson’s so relieved he could cry.

Tyson ends up collapsing in Madison’s bed and sleeps for twelve hours, face buried in a pillow that smells like her. So much for getting some distance. 

Madison’s waiting outside Tyson’s apartment door when he gets home after beating Calgary a few nights later. Tyson’s tired, and cold, but he feels himself grinning when he sees her. She’s leaning casually against his door frame, playing idly on her phone, but she’s wearing one of Tyson’s hoodies. He wants nothing more than to kiss her right there, but he settles for bumping her out of the way with his hip so he can unlock his front door.

“What if JT had come home with me, huh? Or Cale?” Tyson asks instead of saying hello. She follows him inside and locks the door behind her. Tyson busies himself with his coat so he doesn’t blurt out something dumb. He and JT weren’t quite as inseparable as they used to be, but it could happen. And Cale only lived a few floors away. Though, now that Tyson thought of it, he hadn’t been inviting teammates over after games very much lately, not when there was usually someone else waiting for him.

He’s seen Madison since they got back from their road trip, but he misses her so much when she’s not around now. He can’t get enough of her. That probably means something. He’s working on it. Sort of. 

“Hello to you, too, Tys,” she scoffs, kicking off her shoes. She carefully aims one at Tyson’s shin.

“Hey, hey, watch the suit pants,” he protests. He gives in and steps closer to her, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her into him. He allows himself a quick kiss, just a chaste one, forcing himself to pull away before either of them can deepen it.

She pouts at him. Tyson allows himself one more kiss. He is beginning to realize that he is so, so fucked.

Tyson strips off his suit jacket as he heads towards the kitchen. She trails after him. Tyson swings around to walk backwards so he can face her. He immediately bumps into the doorway to the kitchen and stumbles. He doesn’t turn back around.

“Snack first,” he says. He doesn’t say what comes next, but he’s pretty sure they both know.

“Didn’t you eat after the game at the Can?” she asks. Tyson drops his suit jacket on one of his kitchen chairs. She picks it up with a sigh and a small smile before draping it nicely over the back of the chair instead. 

Tyson turns back around, intent on digging through his fridge. “Well, yeah, but—” He freezes. Blinks. There are balloons tied to the faucet of his sink. Next to them, a cookie cake and two wrapped presents. Tyson peers closer at the cookie cake. Happy birthday, Tys! It reads, in looping cursive. 

Tyson turns slowly back to face her. She looks shy, biting her lip and watching Tyson with something like nervousness written across her face. Tyson feels guilty, suddenly, for the way he tried to put distance between them just a few days before. 

“How did you—When?” Tyson gets out. She doesn’t look any less nervous, he realizes, and he rushes over to hug her.

She holds up a familiar key when he lets her go, the beginnings of a smile on her face, now. “Cale slipped me your spare key,” she explains. “I snuck in after you left for the game this afternoon, after I got off work.” 

Tyson had completely forgotten that he and Cale had swapped spares when they ended up living in the same building. The idea was to save them from the potential embarrassment of locking your keys in your apartment, but apparently Cale was using his for more nefarious purposes now. 

Madison had been surprised at how easy it had all been. She doesn’t even remember when she got Cale’s number, but he had readily agreed to help her out some. She’d even considered sticking around and surprising Tyson when he got home, but she still wasn’t quite sure how he’d react. She couldn’t tell with him sometimes.

Tyson has to kiss her. She giggles, breathless, when he pulls away.

“Well, now I know what we’re eating for a snack,” Tyson says, taking her hand and dragging her towards the island. He only lets go long enough to dig through a drawer for a knife and to tear off two paper towels. He cuts two large slices and hands one to her. He shoves a bite of cookie cake in his mouth before he says, I love you.

She hops up on the counter when they’ve both finished their slices, swinging her feet into the cabinets. Tyson steps between her legs and kisses her again, because he can. He reaches behind her and picks up one of the wrapped packages. It’s small, light. He flips it over once in his hands. “Hey, your birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she says, swiping for the present. 

Tyson holds it out of her reach, and she wraps her legs around his waist, pressing him close against her. Tyson takes a deep breath.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he says. He sticks a finger underneath a flap in the wrapping paper. He really hadn’t been expecting anything.

She shrugs. “It’s stupid,” she says. 

“Good thing I like stupid,” Tyson counters. He tears into the wrapping paper properly, letting it drop carelessly to the ground. He’s left with a small book. “It’s a ukulele book?” 

“It’s sheet music, so you can finally stop playing the same three songs all the time,” she says.

Tyson realizes he hasn’t said anything else. He stops staring and sets the book aside. “It’s perfect, not stupid,” he says. She tilts her chin for another kiss. Who is he to say no? “Thank you,” he murmurs against her lips. He reaches for the second present, still kissing her. She groans at him.

Tyson tears into the second present just as eagerly as the first. She’s laughing at him, and this time he crumples the wrapping paper up and tosses it at her face. It’s just a case of beer, Tyson’s favorite. He hadn’t realized she noticed it was always stocked in his fridge. 

Her legs are still wrapped around his waist, and Tyson presses closer, as close as he can get. The counter digs into the tops of his thighs, but he’s too busy making out to care. She slides her hands into his hair. She tastes like cookie cake and peppermint Chapstick; Tyson would kiss her forever if he could. 

Speaking of. They fell over the last time Tyson tried to carry her to his bedroom, but he slides his hands underneath her thighs, anyway, tugging her off the counter. She slips down, still pinned between Tyson and the countertop, still kissing him languidly. 

“Gonna actually move at any point?” she eventually asks, pulling away to press her forehead to Tyson’s. 

Tyson pretends to think about it. “I mean, we don’t have to go to bed,” he says. Not being on a bed hadn’t stopped them before.

She pushes on Tyson’s chest, and he goes, laughing. She lets herself be dragged to Tyson’s room, kicking the door shut behind her. 

It’s late by the time they tumble into bed for real. She’s in one of Tyson’s shirts, and nothing else. If Tyson weren’t actually exhausted, he’d be considering round two. He had nearly gotten caught while they were cleaning up in the bathroom after round one, sleepily staring as she took off her makeup and brushed her teeth—a bottle of her makeup remover and her toothbrush live on Tyson’s sink, and have for months. Tyson tries not to look into it too much. 

“What?” she’d asked, catching Tyson’s eye in the mirror.

He had shaken himself. “Nothing,” he said, giving her a sleepy grin. He pressed a kiss to her temple as he slipped out of the bathroom.

Madison watches him go. She’s trying to decipher that look in his eyes. His face was soft, fond behind drowsy eyes. She realizes she’s frozen with her toothbrush still in her mouth. Tyson’s waiting for her. 

He’s staring up at the ceiling fan, rotating slowly above him, when she emerges and slips under the covers next to him. Her toes are cold where she presses them to Tyson’s leg, and he swears under his breath, even as he reaches across the bed to pull her closer. He presses a kiss to her hair and rests his chin on top of her head. Madison hides a smile in his chest. 

Tyson wakes up slowly the next morning. It’s still early, the sunlight filtering through his curtains the hazy grey of dawn. Madison’s still asleep next to him when he rolls over. Tyson dares to pull her closer until she’s tucked underneath his chin again. Madison stirs a little, making a soft noise and pressing closer. She pulls back and blinks sleepily up at Tyson.

“Happy birthday, Tyson,” she murmurs. 

Tyson grins at her and brushes a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. He kisses her quickly, and she makes a soft noise and leans into it before yawning. “Thank you,” Tyson whispers back. “Now go back to sleep.” 

Madison grumbles, but snuggles back in, pressing her nose to Tyson’s collarbone. 

It’s brighter out when Tyson next blinks himself awake. Madison’s already awake this time, scrolling quietly on her phone, but she sets it aside when she sees Tyson look at her. He rolls so he can prop himself up on one hand, leaning over Madison. She grins up at him, reaches to slide her fingers into Tyson’s hair.

Tyson has practice today, and then they’re leaving again. Those things aren’t important right now, though. What’s important is Madison’s mouth opening up to his, the pressure of her knee against his hip, the feel of her skin underneath his fingers when he slips a hand below her shirt. 

It takes them a while to get out of bed. 

Madison moves easily around Tyson when they finally make it into the kitchen. Tyson makes Madison coffee the way she likes it and mans the toaster while Madison makes them both eggs. She showers—Tyson bought all of her shower products weeks ago—while Tyson gets dressed. Tyson perches on the bathroom counter and watches while she does her makeup. She catches him looking at her.

“What?” she asks. She pushes her hair out of her face nervously. 

“Uh,” Tyson says. He had gotten caught up, wasn’t really thinking about anything, distracted by thoughts of how easily Madison moves through his space, by his side.

“Tyson,” Madison says, impatient.

“Do you, uh, maybe wanna go on a date with me?” Tyson manages. 

“Tys, you’re leaving on a road trip in,” she checks the time on her phone, “like four hours.”

Tyson rolls his eyes. “Okay, but we’ll be back in a few days. What about then?”

Madison smiles. “We’ll see, ask me when you get back.” 

“That’s not a real answer,” Tyson says. He can hear himself whining. He needs this answer before he can board a plane, though. He grabs her wrist and tugs her closer. “C’mon, am I really that bad?”

She goes easily into Tyson’s side. She pretends to think about it for a moment—too long for Tyson’s nerves—before relenting. “When you get back,” she says. She goes up on her toes to kiss Tyson’s cheek. “Now get out of here before you’re late to practice.”

They don’t get to go on that date.

He’s in California when he gets the call. Minnesota. It’s not like he didn’t see it coming. The deadline’s coming up in, like, a week, and besides. He’d asked for a trade, hadn’t he? He doesn’t say goodbye to anyone before he’s back on a plane, this time to St. Paul. 

He calls his mom first, asks if she’ll pack him some shit from his apartment in Denver. He was supposed to be back in just a few days. 

“I don’t have any clothes for fucking Minnesota,” he complains, his one moment of self-appointed wallowing. He’ll be happy about this, probably, he just needs to process it.

He doesn’t think about it when he turns his phone off before getting on the plane. He’s met by some people from the Wild—the team, his team, now—at the airport in St. Paul, hustled to a hotel near Xcel Center with his meager belongings and left to “settle in.” He’s expected at morning skate tomorrow; his jaw aches.

They’ve put him up in a nice hotel downtown. He can see a river—the Mississippi, he thinks— out his window. His phone’s still off, tossed on the bed when he came in. He swipes it off the comforter and powers it back on, shoving it and a room key in his pocket on his way out the door. 

His hotel room is too stuffy, too small. He takes the stairs and pushes his way outside. He can see the Xcel Center a few blocks away, and he turns his back to it, starts walking. He has no idea where he is or where he’s going. He hopes no one recognizes him. 

It’s not long before he finds himself in a park alongside the river. It’s quiet, and no one looks twice at him as he finds an empty bench and finally pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his notifications: texts from Kacey and his grandpa—he’ll have to respond to them—dozens from his—former—teammates on the Avs that he ignores, a handful from numbers he doesn’t have saved, Wild players introducing themselves and welcoming him to the team—he’ll have to make some new contacts. He swipes everything away to deal with later, once his head stops spinning. He pauses on one text, the only one he’d really been looking for.

So much for that date, huh. it says. She’s added a broken heart emoji to soften the blow. Then, an hour later, call me when you get the chance. Another emoji at the end, a black heart, even though Tyson’s told her repeatedly that he can mostly tell colors apart.

He already knows what she’s going to say. Can you get broken up with before you’re even dating? How do you make friends-with-benefits work long-distance? Tyson’s not in the mood for that conversation, doesn’t know if he ever will be. He swipes away her notifications, too. 

Minnesota is chilly, and Tyson’s fingertips are a little numb by the time his hotel room door slams behind him later. It’s getting dark. He should order dinner. He should do a lot of things, actually. He lets himself wallow for a few more minutes, flopped on his back in the center of the bed, staring up at the dark ceiling.

He halfheartedly peruses the room service menu on his nightstand before calling something in. He’s not even sure what he ordered. 

Tyson’s woken up by knocking on his door. He blinks awake and stumbles blearily out of bed. It’s fully dark in his room now. Room service knocks on his door again. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Tyson grumbles, not even loud enough to be heard, probably. 

His food is lukewarm at best by the time he gets everything spread out on the little desk in his room. Tyson picks at it more than he eats it.

Back in Denver, Madison’s phone doesn’t ring. She figured Tyson would be busy and exhausted by the time he made it to Minnesota. She wants to check in, but her messages show that they’ve been read. He’s made it clear that he’s not in the mood to chat. 

It’s fine. He’s allowed to be upset over all this. Madison had just thought that they’d made it far enough in their relationship—whatever that relationship was—that she wouldn’t get stonewalled the second something serious happened. 

She hasn’t had a chance to return Tyson’s spare key to Cale yet. She’d stayed behind after Tyson left for the airport on his birthday to clean up some of the disaster they’d left behind the night before. She was going to give it back when they got home. Except now Tyson’s not coming home, and she isn’t sure he’ll speak to her again, either. 

She tries to convince herself she’s not hurt by it. 

Madison sneaks back into Tyson’s apartment the day after the trade. She’s collected some of Tyson’s clothes over the last few months, and she should pick up her own belongings that have become scattered across his apartment. She’s not sure how Tyson’s going to get the rest of his stuff to Minnesota, but she knows it’s not her problem. Tyson’s made that clear. 

She opens the text thread with Tys 🖤 again anyway. No new messages. She starts to type, to ask how Tyson’s doing, if he wants to talk, but she deletes it all. She closes her text thread with him again.

Madison wanders around the apartment, collecting things she recognizes as her own: her toothbrush, a half dozen ponytail holders that Tyson delights in tearing out of her hair to make out, the makeup remover that Tyson bought after she fell asleep there the first time and left makeup all over his pillowcase. She leaves the clothes she dug out of her closet and drawers folded on the end of his bed. She keeps one of his hoodies, because it’s comfy and it smells like him. It’s an Avs hoodie, anyway; it’s not like he’ll need it. The cookie cake she bought for his birthday is still sitting on the counter. They’d eaten it with breakfast on his actual birthday, but it was otherwise untouched. She figures someone will be by soon to pack up his apartment. She leaves it on the counter for them, whoever it is.

She locks the door behind her. It feels final in a way that she hates. 

Tyson drags himself to morning skate early the next morning. He doesn’t feel like he slept much, though he fell asleep before he ever got around to responding to anyone’s texts. He makes no less than four wrong turns trying to find the home locker room in Xcel Center. The equipment staff has a locker set up for him already, all of his new gear waiting for him when he finds it. Tyson stares at the white practice jersey for a long moment, the green helmet already fitted with his full face shield and new number. He’s the only one in the locker room so far.

Tyson feels himself smile for the first time in what feels like days. 

Skate passes in a blur. Tyson throws himself into everything the coaches ask of him, trying his best to learn a new team on the fly. His muscles ache from all the travel in the last few days and the lack of sleep, but he leans into the pain with a grin. It’s fun, in a weird way, and everyone’s quick to chirp Tyson, make him feel like he’s already a real part of the team. 

Madison watches the Wild’s game that night. Tyson’s still in his little fishbowl after the broken jaw, and Madison winces every time he takes a check, even though she knows he’s fine, really. Minnesota wins. She doesn’t watch any of their other games, or follow Minnesota on any socials. She considers blocking Tyson’s phone number, the last message she sent to him still sitting open and unreplied to. 

She can’t bring herself to do it. 

Tyson’s mom, ever the lifesaver, arrives a few days later with most of the contents of his closet in tow. She’s also brought the cookie cake Madison had bought him for his birthday. It’s half-eaten and stale, now, reading only “-hday, Tys!” He eats a piece, anyway, and his mom doesn’t ask who bought it for him. She doesn’t ask any questions, actually, which Tyson is grateful for. He’s told her bits and pieces about Madison over the last few months, but he hasn’t told her how he’s fallen in love. It doesn’t matter now.

Tyson’s trying to unpack, give himself some semblance of “home” in his stale hotel room, when a piece of paper falls out of the pocket of one of his suit jackets. He picks it up and carefully unfolds it, though he already knows what it says. good luck tonight! ♡ in Madison’s pretty cursive. She’d tucked it into his suit before a game in January, and Tyson had scored a goal that night. He slipped it back in the inside pocket of the suit jacket. Maybe it’ll bring him luck in Minnesota, too. 

Madison’s phone rings late one night, a few weeks after Tyson’s been traded. It’s the first time she’s heard from him since he left Denver. She squints at her phone screen in the dark, debating ignoring it. Tyson’s face grins up at her, a stupid selfie he had taken ages ago. She swipes to answer with a sigh.

“Tyson, if you’re just calling because you’re drunk or something, I swear—” she starts. She’s not really sure what she’ll do to Tyson, actually, so she trails off. 

Tyson’s quiet on the other end of the line. Madison hears him take a shaky breath, but he still doesn’t speak for a long moment. “The Avs are in town,” he says finally. “Game’s tomorrow night,” he adds. 

Madison hasn’t really been paying attention to either team’s schedule lately. She hasn’t had much reason to. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to say here, what’s the right answer to comfort Tyson. She might’ve once, but she feels wrong-footed now, unsure of where they stand.

“You gonna see anyone?” she asks.

Tyson huffs. “Yeah, I got dinner with some of them tonight.” He pauses. “They’re still my friends, y’know, it’s not like they’re the ones who traded me.”

Madison hums, something like agreement. She thinks she can hear the hurt in Tyson’s voice, even though he’s trying to hide it. He’s still talking. “I’ve just…never had to play against my best friends like this before.”

“Oh, Tys,” Madison says softly. “That sucks, babe.” The familiar endearment slips out before she can stop herself. 

“Yeah, it sucks alright,” Tyson agrees. He’s quiet again. “Wish you could be here, too. Miss you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Madison says. With the game tomorrow, Tyson might not be drunk, but it’s late, and he’s wallowing in missing his friends. She doesn’t think she really qualifies as that anymore.

“What do you mean?” Tyson asks, indignant. “Of course I mean it.”

“Is that why this is the first time we’ve spoken since you got traded? Two weeks ago?” Madison’s angry, suddenly; that small spark of hurt she’s been trying to bury flares into fury. 

She can practically hear Tyson’s wince on the other end of the line. It’s too late to be arguing, but this is where they’re at now. 

“Sorry for not wanting to get dumped hours after I got shipped off to fucking Minnesota,” Tyson snaps back, but he sounds tired. The fight leaves Madison just as quickly as it appeared. “Who said anything about breaking up?”

Tyson’s quiet. Madison can picture the way his eyebrows furrow when he’s thinking too hard. “You asked me to call you!”

“I asked you to call me because I wanted to check on you, dumbass.” Madison rubs at her eyes. They should both be asleep, but now she feels too awake to hang up, to end this conversation. She might be annoyed, but it’s the first time she’s heard Tyson’s voice in weeks. She’s missed it, though she’s not about to admit that right now. “How can I even break up with a guy I’ve never been on a real date with?” she asks.

“Oh.” 

“It’s been a wild fucking month for you, Tys, I wanted to talk to you and see how you were handling shit,” Madison continues.

Tyson realizes now might not be the best time to admit that he’d requested a trade. This had still blindsided him, somehow. He considers switching to a FaceTime call. He desperately wants to see Madison’s face, the next best thing to being with her right now, getting to touch her. He winces again when she sniffles on the other end of the line. He’d been lonely when he called her, expecting some sympathy, not the anger he was met with. 

He guesses he probably should’ve considered she’d be mad at him after moving over 900 miles away and then giving her radio silence for two weeks, actually. He taps the FaceTime button a little harder than necessary. He’s almost surprised when Madison accepts the request.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been busy,” he says weakly. “I didn’t think—I just figured you were wanting to tell me that we couldn’t keep doing this.” It seems obvious given the distance, but Tyson really hadn’t been in the mood to get effectively broken up with twice in one day. 

Madison’s eyes burn as she swipes at them, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the late hour, or if she’s about to cry. 

Tyson realizes something. “Besides, you had just gotten spooked and tried to slow things down, I didn’t think you’d want to jump from just hooking up to long-distance.” It’s too dark for him to tell if she’s crying. He hopes she isn’t. 

“That was—” Madison starts to protest. But Tyson’s right. It had only been a few weeks since she’d panicked about how fast they were headed towards a real relationship. That had been before the broken jaw, before Tyson’s birthday, before he got traded. Before Madison had the chance to realize just how much she cared about Tyson, and liked Tyson, and how much she missed him when he wasn’t just a text away.

“I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend for real, you know? On that date? But then I was in Minnesota, and I hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to anyone, and I wasn’t ready to talk about anything.” Madison opens her mouth to argue more, but Tyson cuts her off. “You want to know how I’m handling shit? Not well,” he admits.

Hockey is hockey, but he’s not sure Minnesota will ever feel like home the way Denver still does. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Madison blurts.

Tyson laughs in spite of himself. “So many things,” he says. It’s easy, for a second, to forget they’re arguing. Fuck, he wishes Madison were with him, and not for the first, or the third, or the tenth time since he’s been in Minnesota. “I guess I should’ve texted instead of shutting you out, huh? I just never knew what to say.”

“You’re an idiot,” Madison says softly. “I really did just want to check on you. But you left me on read, and then a few days had passed, so I guess you’d made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to talk. I didn’t even think about worrying about our future then.” 

Tyson squeezes his eyes shut. He’s blurry on Madison’s phone screen, but she can tell his hair is a disaster, like he’s been anxiously pulling on his curls.

“Did I accidentally break up with you to avoid being broken up with?” he asks. He sounds like he’s on the verge of laughter. Or maybe tears. Madison can’t quite tell, actually. 

“Mmm, I think so, babe,” Madison says. She rolls over in bed, stifling a yawn. It’s late in Denver, but it’s even later in St. Paul, she thinks. “Hey, you need to sleep. “You’ve gotta beat the Avs tomorrow.” She glances at the clock in the corner of her screen. “Well. Today, I guess.”

Tyson sticks his tongue out at her, but he snuggles deeper into his pillows. “Can I call you later?” His voice is small.

“Yeah, Tys.” They’ve got a lot more to talk about. “Say hi to JT and Cale for me, yeah?” she says.

Tyson grins at her. He stops himself from saying, “I love you,” before he hangs up, but only barely, settling on, “Good night,” instead. There’s still time for the other one, he thinks

The game is…fine. They slap a microphone on Tyson before he goes out on the ice, and it’s definitely weird facing off against some of his best friends, but he gets through it. He doesn’t score, but he doesn’t land in the penalty box either, so. He spends some time attempting to chirp an exasperated EJ that he’ll probably get made fun of for later. Oh, and the Wild win. Tyson guesses it’s an okay night, after all. 

Tyson misses Denver, misses playing at the Can, but after facing off against his friends on the still-unfamiliar ice in Minnesota, he’s not sure he can handle returning. 

Madison finds herself watching the Avs game for the first time in weeks, but she’s not watching for them. She’s paying attention to all of Tyson’s shifts, and she realizes halfway through the game that she’s completely rooting against the Avs. 

The final buzzer has barely blown when she’s pulling out her phone to text Tyson. She hesitates for a moment, unsure of the right thing to say. She feels like they finally made progress last night after Tyson stonewalled her for weeks, but they’re still a half dozen steps behind where they were in the beginning of March. She somehow knows more than she did before Tyson called her, but she feels like she understands their relationship even less now. 

She must type four or five messages before she settles on, great win :) 🖤. She kind of hates it as soon as she sends it, but she can’t take it back. She tosses her phone to the other end of the couch before she can obsess over waiting for Tyson to text her back. She doesn’t have to wait long, though, before her phone is vibrating near her feet. She takes one breath, then another, before scrambling for her phone again. Tyson’s texted back, thanks babe. Then, less than a minute later, wish you were here. 

Madison stares at her phone, chewing on her bottom lip. She doesn’t know the right thing to say once again. ‘Me too’ feels too earnest, ‘wish you were still here instead’ feels mean somehow. She still doesn’t know when she’ll see Tyson again, if she’ll see Tyson again. All she has is a version of Tyson through a screen. Her thumb hovers over the call button. Tyson’s probably busy with post-game stuff, Madison reminds herself. She misses his voice, though.

She finally settles on: :). She waits anxiously until Tyson has read it before sending: Call me later?

She checked the Wild’s schedule already; they’re in town for a few more days. Tyson will probably be heading straight home—wherever “home” is these days— after the game. She spares a moment to wonder about the future of Tyson’s old apartment in Denver. She wonders if it’s been emptied out yet, wiped clean of all traces of Tyson, of them. That had been home to Tyson, and it had almost started to feel like home to Madison, too. 

Tyson sends her back a thumbs up emoji and an emoji with its tongue sticking out. Madison rolls her eyes fondly and tosses her phone back to the end of her couch. 

She’s dozing when her phone rings. Half-asleep, she fumbles for it before answering. “‘Lo?” she mumbles. 

Tyson chuckles softly at her. “You asked me to call you and then fell asleep,” he says, tsk-ing. 

Madison sticks her tongue out at him, even though he can’t see her. “Shut up, it’s late,” she whines. 

“Then go to bed, Mads,” Tyson tells her. She can tell he’s trying not to laugh at her.

Madison feels like a toddler protesting bedtime, but she says, “No! I wanna talk to you.”

Tyson laughs again. “Okay, are you at least in bed already?”

“...No.”

“Go brush your teeth, and get in bed, yeah? We can keep talking then.”

Madison sighs but heaves herself off her couch and into her bathroom. Tyson starts chatting as she walks, mindless stuff, like the weather in St. Paul, or how bored he is of living in a hotel room still. Madison puts him on speaker and sets her phone next to the sink so she can keep listening while she washes her face and brushes her teeth. It almost feels like getting ready for bed alongside Tyson again, elbowing each other for space in front of his bathroom mirror. 

He falls quiet as she crawls underneath her blankets. Madison stifles a yawn.

“How was it?” she asks.

“The game?” Madison nods, forgetting again that Tyson can’t see her. Tyson continues anyway. “I mean, it was fine, I guess. We won, so.”

“Just fine?” Madison prods.

Tyson hesitates. “Weird,” he says after a few seconds. “It was weird. Feels like a Twilight Zone episode, honestly. Like I woke up one day in some other life that everyone else swears didn’t happen. Like, you get traded, and everyone expects you to immediately fit in with this new locker room, and be all in with your new team. As if all the games played with your friends never even happened.”

Madison doesn’t know what to say to that. It must be weird to have to effectively sever all ties with your best friends. To know and trust the face across the faceoff dot from you. She probably couldn’t handle it if she were in Tyson’s place,

“I’m sorry, Tys,” she murmurs, for lack of anything better to say. “It’s business, but business is shitty.” 

Tyson huffs in agreement. Madison’s wearing the hoodie she stole from Tyson, and she tucks her nose underneath the collar. It doesn’t smell like Tyson any more. 

“Hey, is now a bad time to ask if we can have phone sex?” Tyson asks.

Madison bursts out laughing. “Yes, Tyson, it’s a terrible time.” Tyson whines a little at her. “Though,” she adds, “I am wearing one of your hoodies.”

Tyson groans. The few times Madison had worn something of his around him, it usually wasn’t long before the clothes ended up back on the floor.

“Now you’re just being mean,” he says. His voice is muffled like he’s buried his head underneath a pillow.

Madison yawns again.

“You need to go to sleep,” Tyson tells her gently.

“No,” Madison protests again. “Tell me more about Minnesota,” she pleads. “I’ve missed listening to you.”

Madison can’t read Tyson’s moment of silence, but he starts doing as he’s told, telling Madison more about his hotel, about the food in the locker room after games at Xcel Center and how different it is from Denver, about all the different personalities on the team, until Madison falls asleep. 

Madison wakes up to a dead phone. She plugs it in while she showers, and she immediately checks her call log. Tyson had kept talking for well over an hour. He texted her, too, after he’d hung up. Miss you, promise we’ll talk more soon.

Madison responds the only way she knows how: 🖤.

April

The end of the season passes in a blur after that. Tyson settles in as best he can, but he feels like he barely has time to catch his breath. With the end of the season and the playoffs looming, there’s no time for Tyson to find a real place to live, so he’s still holed up in the hotel, living out of suitcases.

Time moves differently in hotels, he swears, the days blurring into one another. Tyson no longer knows what day it is; it’s only travel day, or game day, or rarely, a day off. 

The Wild are winning more than they lose, and Tyson manages to pick up some points here and there. It could be worse. At least it’s not, like, Buffalo. 

The team goes on the road for the first time since he got there, and it’s a good chance for Tyson to get to know everyone a little better, spend some time out of his generic hotel room—even if he goes back to another generic hotel room after each dinner out with the guys. He makes a point to call Madison as much as he can, which is almost every night after he crashes into bed and turns on some shitty TV. 

Their phone calls end up lasting for hours. Tyson realizes that he and Madison spent more time hooking up than really getting to know each other. It’s nice to take the time to just talk and learn things about Madison. Tyson feels himself falling in love more with each phone call.

Tyson talks about his family—his sister, his mom, his grandparents. How much he misses them with the long seasons away. How much he’s looking forward to going home to Alberta when the season ends. He doesn’t tell Madison that he wants to bring her home with him this summer, not yet. 

Madison tells Tyson about everything: her job (graphic design and marketing for a local business Tyson vaguely thinks he recognizes), her family (two sisters, one of whom Tyson briefly met), and her favorite movies (Lord of the Rings, but Tyson could have guessed that). When she tells him she likes to bake, Tyson immediately demands that she sends him some. He’s not even sure if he can get mail at the hotel, actually. Not important.

Tyson throws himself into hockey, though he’s not sure how much it shows. He’s determined to make this work, to stick and make a difference in Minnesota the way he never quite could in Colorado. He tells Madison this, too, voicing fears about his future in hockey that he’s never even let himself think about too much. 

The Wild plays the Avalanche again in St. Paul on the last day of the season. Tyson’s dreading it. He’s privately more than a little glad that they’re not playing the Avs in the first round, but he still can’t help but feel like he should be there instead, still on a powerhouse team poised to take on the postseason, not the underdogs.

Tyson calls Madison a week before the game, laying in bed, fresh off a single assist in back to back wins against Vancouver and Seattle. Tyson can hear the smile in Madison’s voice when she answers. Tyson’s chest hurts with how much he misses her.

Which is probably why he blurts, “Can you come to Minnesota?” 

Madison’s quiet for so long Tyson pulls his phone away from his ear to make sure the call didn’t disconnect. 

Finally, she says, “Tyson, I can’t just drop everything and fly to Minnesota.” “No, I know, I just meant next week,” he says. “We play the Avs again.”

Madison knows that, this time. She’s actually started paying attention to the Wild—mostly just Tyson, though—since April started.

“That’s a Friday night, Tys,” she tells him. “I’d have to take off work for the day.” She could, probably, without too much fuss. She just wants to hear Tyson beg a little. She’s still a tiny bit hurt by the way he stonewalled her after the trade. 

“I’ll pay for your plane ticket!” Tyson adds. That wasn’t really Madison’s point. “I really want you to be there, I need to see you again.” 

Madison already knows she can’t tell Tyson no. She sighs and drags her laptop towards her. She starts searching for plane tickets. “Just for the game on Friday, or am I allowed to stay the whole weekend?” she asks.

Tyson scoffs. “Like I’d let you leave after one night when I haven’t seen you in two like two months.” He’s already planning on only leaving the hotel room except for practice and maybe to finally take Madison on an actual date. Actually: “Hey, pack something nice to wear. I still owe you a date.”

Madison laughs. “How nice are we talking?”

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna wine and dine you so hard,” Tyson says, breaking off into laughter before he can even finish the sentence. 

Madison spends the next week, alternating between excited and anxious. Excited because she hasn’t seen Tyson in weeks, and she can’t wait to be able to kiss him again. She’s not sure why she’s even worried. She and Tyson have already spent months doing almost everything couples do, just without the label. They already know they work well together. Adding a label shouldn’t change things. 

She goes out and buys a new dress the day before her flight, after frantically deciding that nothing in her closet was good enough for a first date.

“He already knows what you look like,” her sister Emma points out. “It’s not like you have to worry about him liking you. Also, he’s colorblind.”

Madison ignores her (annoyingly correct) sister and spends almost over an hour in the mall. She carefully packs the new dress at the top of her suitcase before zipping it up and leaving it by her front door. She’s so excited she can hardly sleep.

It’s not a long flight from Denver to Minnesota, but Madison’s not used to flying, and the whole affair has her stressed beyond belief. It takes her unbelievably long to find her gate, and even though she got to KDEN plenty early, she still worries that she’ll be late. It’s a relief when she can finally settle in her seat. She turns on a Disney movie she doesn’t really watch and counts the minutes until she can see Tyson again.

Except then she can’t find her luggage, and Tyson’s supposed to be picking her up and isn’t answering her texts. It takes her twenty minutes to find out that another passenger mistakenly took her suitcase and has brought it back, and Tyson still hasn’t responded to tell her that he’s waiting.

She makes her way outside anyway, following the signs towards parking. Her hands are too full with her carry-on and suitcase to reach for her phone to call Tyson, but when she steps outside her terminal, she recognizes the person behind the wheel of a car just pulling up to the curb.

Tyson has the car in park and is jumping out before Madison can take another step. She’s so overwhelmed she bursts into tears.

She drops her bags to launch herself at Tyson, wrapping her arms around his neck. He doesn’t stumble, just slides his arms around her waist and hugs her back.

“Whoa, whoa, why the tears?” he asks, wiping one away with his thumb. 

“I just really missed you,” Madison mumbles into his shirt.

Tyson presses a kiss to her hair. He unwraps one hand and reaches for the handle of Madison’s suitcase. “Well, let’s get you in the car, and then we can talk, yeah?” he says. He doesn’t wait for an answer, letting go of Madison fully to swing her suitcase into the trunk. Madison slips into the passenger seat while he throws her carry-on in, too, before he’s jogging back to the driver’s side. He leans across the console to kiss Madison’s cheek.

“Missed you, too, by the way,” he says.

Madison feels silly for crying now. Everything always seems better when Tyson’s around, and right now is no exception, with the windows rolled down and Tyson singing loudly—and badly—to the song on the radio. Tyson reaches for Madison’s hand, and she lets him slip his fingers between hers. Something restless in Madison’s chest settles when he touches her. 

They don’t much as Tyson drives, the city flashing by out the car windows. It’s been ages since they saw each other, but they talk almost every day; there’s not much to catch up on. Madison likes it, the comfortable quiet between two people who know each other well. 

Tyson apologizes for the fact that he’s still living in a hotel on the elevator ride up to his room. 

“Tyson, I don’t care where you’re living, I’m just glad to be able to see you again,” she tells him.

Tyson blushes, but he also boxes her in against the elevator wall to kiss her properly for the first time since she got off the plane. Madison trails after him as he heads down the hallway and pushes open his hotel room door with a dorky sweep of his arm. 

The room’s bigger than Madison expected, with a kitchenette that doesn’t look like it’s been used at all, and a little couch and desk near the TV. Madison can see the bed, sheets rumpled and twisted like Tyson has never bothered to make it in the weeks he’s been here. Tyson’s watching Madison survey the room like he’s nervous. 

“So, what’s next?” Madison asks. 

With the game last night, Tyson didn’t have skate today, but she’s familiar enough with his game day routine to know he should probably be napping soon. She could go for a nap herself. Madison doesn’t wait for an answer, just dumps her carry-on bag on the couch and wanders over to the bed. Tyson follows, still rolling Madison’s suitcase behind him. Madison flops backwards onto the bed. The sheets smell like Tyson.

“Well?” she asks, raising one eyebrow at him.

Tyson scrambles onto the bed after her. He drops to his elbows above Madison and leans down to kiss her, eager and not exactly gentle. Madison reaches up to thread her fingers into his curls. She runs her fingers through his hair once, twice, before closing her hand and tugging. Tyson groans into her mouth, but he gentles the kiss. They make out until they’re both breathless, and Tyson has to pull away. 

“I really should nap,” he says once he catches his breath. Madison tilts her chin up for another kiss. Tyson rolls his eyes but obliges, just a quick peck. He shifts his weight to one hand and pinches the outside of Madison’s thigh with the other. “C’mon, I wanna cuddle.”

They both clamber up the bed until Madison can collapse onto the pillows. Tyson collapses on top of her. 

“Oof, bud, what the hell,” she manages. Tyson’s heavy, and it’s hard to breathe. 

“Told you I wanted to cuddle,” Tyson says back, face smushed into Madison’s collarbone.

Madison pokes Tyson in the ribs, then again, harder, when he doesn’t react, until he sighs and squirms off her. Her reprieve doesn’t long, though, because Tyson immediately reaches out for Madison and pulls her close. She rolls onto her side to face him, and he grins at her. 

“You’re an idiot,” she tells him.

Tyson’s grin only grows. “Yeah, but you like me.”

Madison slides a hand around the back of Tyson’s neck and kisses him. 

When Tyson's alarm goes off later, they’ve shifted in their sleep, and Tyson’s half-laying on top of Madison again. He slaps at his phone without moving and somehow manages to snooze the alarm. 

“Not ready yet,” Madison mumbles, wrapping an arm around Tyson and keeping him close. He huffs a laugh against Madison’s skin. 

“I’ve gotta get ready, baby,” he says. He kisses Madison’s shoulder.

Madison should probably get up, too. She wants to shower the plane funk off and make herself presentable for the game. But Tyson’s bed is really comfy. Tyson rolls off of her, and Madison whines at the loss of her human blanket.

Tyson shoots her an amused look. He leans back over Madison to kiss her one more time, but he avoids her attempts at dragging him back to bed. Madison pouts up at him. It doesn’t work. She watches from the bed as Tyson gets dressed in his gameday suit. He kisses her goodbye before he leaves. 

Left alone in the eerie silence of the hotel, Madison forces herself out of bed and into the shower. She brings her Bluetooth speaker with her, blasting one of her playlists loud enough to be heard over the water. She emerges in a cloud of steam to dig through her suitcase for the outfit she’d packed for tonight. She doesn’t own anything Wild-branded, and she doesn’t think wearing Tyson’s old Avalanche hoodie would go over too well. She’d had to buy something new for this, too: an amazing fleece-lined green corduroy jacket that she’d probably live in come fall. 

She takes the opportunity to poke around the hotel room a little, looking for traces of Tyson in the unfamiliar space. One of the blankets from his apartment was thrown carelessly across the foot of the bed. His ukulele sits on top of the desk. Madison hangs her date-night dress up in the little closet and finds her own good luck note to Tyson taped to the door. The kitchenette is full of Tyson’s snacks, including some of Madison’s favorites. It’s not much, but it’s enough. 

Madison eventually makes her way to the Xcel Center. She’s met by someone’s significant other outside—it’s a blur of faces and names she can hardly keep track of—before they head to their seats. She’d gotten used to the atmosphere at The Can, and Xcel Center is different but the same. It’s easy enough to settle into the rhythm of the game and the crowd. The game is wild from puck drop, but Minnesota manages to pull out a win. Tyson even scores the game winning goal. 

She follows the rest of the girls downstairs to the family room after the game. She’s restless, full of energy after the game, with no outlet for it. She all but tackles Tyson when he pokes his head in, stripped down to his base layers, but his curls still plastered to his head with sweat. 

“Whoa,” he says, steadying her as they tumble out into the hallway. He’s grinning at her, cheeks pink. He lets Madison pin him up against the wall opposite them. “Hi.”

Madison kisses him, before she can blurt something embarrassing, like, “I love you,” or, “That goal was hot.” Tyson makes a surprised noise into her mouth but kisses back easily, his hands tightening on her hips. He pulls away after a minute.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he whispers, kissing her temple. Louder, he says, “JT has requested to see you.”

Madison’s a little surprised, but pleased, to hear that. She’s hung out with JT a handful of times since she met him back in January, but she doesn’t think she’s talked to him since Tyson got traded. It had always felt more like JT was just a friend of a friend she got along with.

Tyson drags her down the halls towards the visitors’ locker room, JT’s already waiting for them, leaning against the door frame and messing around on his phone. Unlike Tyson, he’s dressed in clean clothes. He looks up as they approach and grins at them. Tyson doesn’t let go of Madison’s hand. 

JT ropes Madison into a one-armed hug. “Think you’re Josty’s good luck charm. He’s scored twice now at games you’ve been to.” Tyson sticks his tongue out at JT.

Someone from inside the locker room yells Tyson’s name, and he’s momentarily distracted. JT leans in closer to Madison.

“Take care of our boy, yeah?” he says, quietly so Tyson, who’s still talking to someone else, won’t hear. “He needs you.” 

Madison’s not sure how to respond to that. She’s saved by Tyson remembering they’re there. JT smacks a kiss to Madison’s cheek and nudges her back towards Tyson. 

“See you around?” he asks Tyson.

“C’mon, you know you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Madison watches them hug, and then Tyson’s leading her back down the maze of hallways. He says something to her before dropping her off outside the family room, but she doesn’t really hear it, lost in her own thoughts, thinking about JT’s words.

She’s still thinking about what JT said when Tyson rejoins her, as they make their way back to the hotel, up the elevator and into Tyson’s hotel room. She and Tyson move quietly, easily, around each other as they start to change out of their game-day clothes. She’s still lost in her thoughts when Tyson hooks his chin over her shoulder, startling her as she’s taking her makeup off. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. He looks worried. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

Madison shrugs. “Nothing.”

Madison watches in the mirror as Tyson’s brow furrows further. “Did something happen?” Madison knows he’d been worried about how the Wild WAGs would receive her.

She shrugs Tyson’s chin off her shoulder, suddenly annoyed. “No, Tys, nothing happened.”

Nothing did happen, unless you count JT Compher’s casual words sending Madison into a spiral. 

Tyson slides between Madison and the sink. He crosses his arms. “I don’t believe you.”

Madison rolls her eyes, but gives Tyson a quick peck, before hip checking him out of the way so she can brush her teeth. Tyson watches, still suspicious. Madison ushers him towards the bed. He sits and drags Madison into his lap. He frowns up at her.

“Tys, really. Everything was just overwhelming, I guess.” Also not a lie; she’d never been to a hockey game as Tyson’s girlfriend—or, almost-girlfriend—and everything had been overwhelming in a way she hadn’t expected. Most things had been the same, but sitting with the rest of the wives and girlfriends and listening to them ask her questions about her life and job had almost felt like a well-meaning interrogation. 

“Promise?”

Madison kisses Tyson, slow and gentle. “Promise.”

She yelps when Tyson flips them suddenly. He rolls on top of her, propping himself up on his hands. Madison can tell that he’s not letting this go.

“Then what’s wrong?” He chews nervously on his lower lip for a moment. “And don’t say nothing, I know you’re lying.” 

Madison huffs. “Just something JT said.” She shoves at Tyson’s shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. His glasses are crooked from his acrobatics, and Madison reaches up to adjust those next. He swats at her hand.

“I’ll kill him,” he says confidently.

“First, I think JT would beat you in a fight,” Madison says. Tyson makes a noise of protest, and Madison slaps a hand over his mouth. “Second, it wasn’t anything bad, I don’t know, just made me think.”

Tyson pries Madison’s hand away. “Tell me, tell me, tell me,” he says.

He’s distracted enough that Madison can hook a leg over his hips and flip them back over. She settles across his lap as Tyson blinks dazedly up at her.

“He asked me to take care of you, said you need me, whatever.” Madison’s trying to brush it off, as if she hadn’t spent hours thinking about it, as if she doesn’t feel uncomfortably seen. Far too vulnerable for something that was supposed to just be a hook-up way back in November. 

They’ve come a long way since November.

Tyson’s face clears. “What do you mean, ‘whatever?’” He surges up to kiss Madison before he continues. “Of course I need you. I fucking miss you constantly. I’ve wanted literally nothing but to be around you, like, all the time since, like, December.”

“Oh.” Madison should have realized that, maybe. It’s different to hear Tyson lay it out like that. “I didn’t realize,” she whispers. Tyson grins up at her. “You did kinda ghost me for a while there,” she points out.

Tyson groans. “I am never gonna hear the end of that, am I?” He runs his fingers through Madison’s hair, tugs a little at the ends. “I panicked because I was terrified of losing you, remember?” He punctuates his sentence with another gentle kiss. His hand slips from Madison’s hair to her waist, underneath her T-shirt. He’s missed the feeling of her underneath his hands. An emotion Madison can’t read crosses his face for a second before he says, “Do you—do you not—?” Feel the same way, is what he means to say, but can’t quite get out.

Madison understands him, anyway. “No, God, Tyson, no.” She hesitates; she supposes they’re laying it all on the line here. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Tyson surprises her by bursting out laughing. Hurt, Madison tries to squirm out of Tyson’s lap, but he reels her in and kisses her until she melts into his hands.

“Baby, I’ve been in love with you since you showed up at my door for a Lord of the Rings marathon.” He giggles a little and kisses Madison’s nose. “We’ve done this all backwards, haven’t we?” 

Madison giggles a little too and nods. “I don’t think we’re very good at all this,” she whispers.

Tyson shakes his head, still laughing. “We’ll get better. I mean, look at us, we’re already communicating more!”

Madison kissed him again to shut him up, but by then they were both too busy laughing to take it much farther. Madison collapses to the sheets next to Tyson, letting herself dissolve into giggles. It feels good to laugh like this with Tyson, the last bit of uneasy tension Madison didn’t even know existed disappearing at last. Madison feels delirious with it: the stress of the last few weeks, the long day of travel and hockey, the raw vulnerability of finally being honest with Tyson.

They laugh for longer than the situation warrants. Tyson eventually heaves a sigh and turns his head on his pillow to look at Madison, eyes uncharacteristically serious. Madison sucks in a breath and forces herself to stop laughing.

“I mean it, you know,” Tyson says. “I’ve been falling for you for a long time.” He looks thoughtful for a moment, props himself up on an elbow. “I guess this means you’re officially my girlfriend now, huh?”

“Huh, guess so.” Tyson beams at her. “Don’t think this gets you out of wining and dining me tomorrow, though,” she threatens. 

Tyson leans down to kiss Madison. “I don’t put out on the first date,” he murmurs.

Madison drags him closer, slots her mouth against his again. “Bit late for that, babe.”

Madison wakes up late the next morning, bright sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains. Tyson’s already awake, sitting up against the headboard and fucking around on his phone. He never got dressed besides finding his boxers, and his glasses are slipping down his nose. He grins down at her when he realizes she’s awake. 

“You’re a dork,” Madison says, rolling over to bury her face in a pillow again. Tyson pokes her shoulder blade, and she turns her head enough to glare at him. 

“Brunch in bed, or go somewhere?” Tyson asks, poking Madison again.

Madison’s not wearing anything, either, and she’d have to shower and fix her hair before they could leave the hotel room. “Bed,” she says, burrowing back into her pillow. Actually, it might be one of Tyson’s pillows. It’s hers now.

Tyson chuckles and rolls out of bed to hunt down the room service menu. He orders a bunch of stuff that they can share, but makes sure to include an omelet for Madison. He learned a while ago that she always has to have an omelet with breakfast. He’s also learned not to question it. He jumps back onto the bed. Madison bounces with it, and turns once more to glare at him. 

Her hair’s a disaster, and Tyson thinks he can see a hickey he left low on her neck. He loves her so much. He remembers he can tell her that now.

“I love you,” he blurts. Madison’s face softens. “Also, breakfast in thirty.” He tugs a little on the sheet where it’s slipping down Madison’s shoulders. “Plenty of time for…”

“For what, Tyson?” Madison asks. She’s laughing, now, and she rolls over, letting Tyson slide between her thighs and kiss her, slow and easy. 

He has to fish his boxers out of the sheets again when room service knocks on the door, but it’s worth it.

Madison drags herself out of bed after they eat. Tyson’s promised her plans all day, so she and Tyson take turns showering and making themselves presentable. Tyson holds Madison’s hand from the door of the hotel room until they reach his car, and even then, he only lets go after he opens the door for her and kisses her on the cheek.

It’s a warm spring day, and Tyson drives with the windows down through downtown St. Paul. He refuses to tell Madison where he’s taking her.

“Can we at least get coffee if you’re going to kidnap me?” Madison whines.

“I don’t think it’s kidnapping if you willingly got in the car,” Tyson points out mildly. He pulls into the next Starbucks drive-thru he sees, though, so Madison’s pretty sure she wins the argument.

Placated with caffeine, she stops pestering Tyson for details, but it’s only another few minutes before he’s turning into a parking lot for Como Park Zoo.

“Oh my God, are you serious?” Madison asks. She’d idly mentioned, a while ago, that she wanted to visit the Denver Zoo when it got warmer. She had no idea that Tyson would remember that.

Tyson smirks at her. “I think it’s a little smaller than Denver Zoo—”

Madison cuts him off. “Shut up, it’s gonna be great.”

And it is great. Madison all but runs between animal exhibits, and Tyson’s more than happy to be dragged along by the hand, even though he thinks his nose is getting sunburned. They entertain themselves by naming the animals after his old teammates.

“You can’t name them all EJ,” Madison says at one point. 

“Well, why not?” Tyson argues. Madison…doesn’t have a good argument for that, actually.

There’s gardens, too, and they wander through those after they’ve looped around the zoo, holding hands the whole time. Madison’s pretty sure she enjoys the flowers more than Tyson, but he waits good-naturedly when she stops to point out a pretty flower or to take some pictures. It all feels like a date, which Madison supposes it is, actually.

“Hey, wait,” Tyson says suddenly, after Madison stands back up from taking a photo. “We should get a picture of us.” He snatches Madison’s phone from her hand. 

There’s an older couple nearby, and Tyson approaches them with a smile. Madison can hear him asking if one of them would mind, “taking a picture of me and my girlfriend?” She’s sure she’s blushing when Tyson comes back over and winds an arm around her waist. She smiles obligingly at the camera next to Tyson, and doesn’t even flinch when he turns and smacks a kiss to her cheek for the last one.

Tyson’s gracious and sweet as he takes Madison’s phone back, but he turns on Madison with an evil glint in his eye.

“Shut up,” Madison says, turning and walking away from Tyson so he can’t see that she’s still blushing.

Tyson jogs to keep up, spinning around and walking backwards so he can keep smirking at Madison. “You liked hearing me call you my girlfriend, huh?”

“Shut up,” Madison says again.

Tyson steps in front of Madison suddenly, blocking her path completely. She bumps into him. He’s still grinning. “Get used to it fast, because I can’t wait to tell everyone you’re my girlfriend.” Madison claps a hand over his mouth before he can literally start yelling about it. Tyson pries her hand away and uses it to pull her in for a kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs. The novelty of hearing that from Tyson hasn’t worn off, either.

Madison kisses him again because she can. 

They head out not long after that. Tyson starts insisting that they can’t be late for their dinner reservation, even though it’s still early afternoon. Madison lets him take her by the hand again and all but drag her back to the car. 

She’s suddenly tired once she’s sitting back in the passenger seat, the sun and the walking catching up to her. She rests her head on the window while Tyson drives, fighting back a yawn. Tyson still catches her, and he reaches across to poke her in the thigh. She swats half-heartedly at his hand.

“Do I have time to take a nap?” Madison murmurs.

“What? No way!” He pokes Madison harder. “I’m supposed to be wining and dining you, remember?” 

“But I’m sleepy,” Madison whines. She’ll rally, probably; she needs to complain a little first. Tyson pokes her harder.

“That’s not allowed,” Tyson says. It’s not a long drive back to the hotel, and they’re most of the way back there already. Tyson checks the time on the dashboard. There’s still a few hours before their dinner reservation. “Okay, how about a mini nap?” he allows. “But we’re setting like three alarms.” 

It’s important to him that he still gets this first date right, even if they have done their entire relationship backwards. They got to the right place in the end, though, right?

Madison crashes into bed as soon as they’re back in the room. Tyson considers her for a moment. She’s already wriggled under the sheets, but she’s lying directly in the middle of the bed.

Tyson collapses on top of Madison. He catches himself at the last second so he doesn’t completely crush her, because he’s nice like that. Madison giggles, but she squirms and tries to elbow Tyson.

Her voice is muffled into the pillow as she tries to say, “Get off me.”

Tyson lets his weight press her further into the mattress. “Nope, ‘m comfy.” He does fish his phone out of his pocket to set an alarm and roll off Madison. He pulls Madison close as soon as he lands on his side next to her. “Shh, sleep now.”

They’re both jolted awake half an hour later when Tyson’s alarm goes off. Madison whines and presses closer. Tyson kisses the top of her head where she’s tucked under his chin.

“We need to get up,” Tyson whispers. Madison blinks sleepily up at him. 

Tyson forces himself to disentangle himself from Madison. When she doesn’t get up after him, he grabs her by the ankles and drags her to the end of the bed, ignoring her laughter and shrieks.

Tyson follows Madison into the bathroom after she digs her makeup bag and curling iron out of her suitcase, plops himself down on the marble countertop of the sink. Madison raises her eyebrow at him as she plugs the curling iron in and turns it on. Tyson beams at her.

“I wanna watch,” Tyson says simply, still smiling innocently.

He does watch, intent on Madison as she starts to section her hair.

“What’s that for?” he asks. He hands Madison a hair clip.

She brandishes the curling iron at him. “So it’s easier to curl.” 

Tyson’s quiet for a few more minutes before he slides Madison’s makeup bag closer and starts pawing through it. He pulls items out one by one and starts asking questions, mostly more of, “What’s this for?”—a makeup sponge, eyeliner, one of those jumbo eyeshadow crayons—until most of the contents of Madison’s makeup bag are strewn across the counter around Tyson. 

“Are you proud of yourself?” Madison teases. Tyson snaps a compact of blush shut, surveys the damage he’s done. Madison’s momentarily distracted by Tyson’s shenanigans, and one of her fingers brushes across the hot barrel of the curling iron. “Ah, shit,” she hisses.

Tyson’s immediately serious. “Are you okay?” He grabs at Madison’s hand, bringing it close to his face to inspect her finger. Madison bites her lip to keep from laughing. Tyson frowns before carefully pulling Madison’s finger to his lips, kissing it gently. “There. All better.” 

“I love you,” Madison hears herself saying. She’s not used to being able to just say it. Tyson beams at her again.

Tyson behaves himself while Madison finishes her hair and makeup, though he does giggle at the faces Madison pulls while she’s trying to apply mascara. He even helps put away all the makeup he got out. He finally hops off the counter to start getting ready himself.

Madison grabs his wrist when he reaches for the bottle of hair gel. “Nope, I’m rescinding your gel privileges.” She dies a little inside every time she sees a new photo of Tyson and his curls smothered in gel. Tyson squirms, trying to free his hand; Madison tightens her grip.

“Just a little?” Tyson pleads. 

“No, I like your curls!” For emphasis, Madison cards her free hand through Tyson’s curls.

Tyson grumbles at her and tries to tamp his hair back down. “You’re gonna make it frizzy,” he complains. Madison is still tightly holding onto his wrist. “Ugh, fine, but just for tonight.” 

Madison releases his wrist and kisses Tyson’s cheek as she steps past him out of the bathroom. Tyson blinks at himself in the mirror, wondering what the hell just happened.

Madison’s changed into a dress when Tyson finally makes his way out of the bathroom, too, sitting on the edge of the bed to slide on a pair of heels. She watches Tyson change with a small smile on her face. Tyson takes Madison’s hand and pulls her to her feet, twirling her once before pulling her close for a kiss.

“Let’s fucking do this,” Tyson says, and Madison has to laugh.

Dinner is pretty nice, as first dates go. Tyson picked a good restaurant—good food, nice environment, but not so fancy Madison feels out of her depth—and Madison already knows that he’s good for conversation. The good thing about falling in love before you actually start dating is that you’ve already gotten the awkwardness and discomfort out of the way already, Madison supposes.

She’s even mostly immune to the sad eyes Tyson directs at her as he pleads his case for getting dessert. Mostly. (They end up splitting a slice of tiramisu.)

The weekend passes too quickly. Madison blinks and suddenly she’s standing in the middle of Tyson’s hotel room, trying to figure out if she’s forgotten to re-pack anything. 

“Stay,” Tyson begs. “A few more days, through the beginning of the series.”

“Tyson, I can’t, I have to get back to Denver for work, you know that.”

Tyson does know that, but he also hates coming back to a dark and empty hotel room every night after games. He tries to tackle Madison to the bed, but she side-steps Tyson and crosses her arms at him, disapproval in her eyes. Tyson feels a bit like a scolded child for a moment. 

“What if I refuse to drive you to the airport, huh? Then you’ll have to stay.” Tyson knows it’s a weak argument, but he’s desperate here. 

Madison’s glare softens. She cups Tyson’s face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Tyson, but I really have to go. I’ll see you soon, okay? We’ll figure something out.” She punctuates this with a kiss. Tyson leans into it, his hands tight on Madison’s waist. 

“Soon,” Tyson repeats. “I love you,” he adds.

Madison kisses him again, and Tyson slips a hand beneath her shirt, her skin warm beneath his hand. She shudders and kisses him harder. They both startle when the alarm Madison set to make sure they leave for the airport on time goes off. Tyson tries to follow her when she pulls away to silence it.

“Time to go,” Madison says sadly.

After Tyson drops Madison off at Departures, he’s grateful that she’s not there to see him wipe away some tears. 

May

Madison sees the Avs’ WAG jackets on Instagram the night they start the first round. The WIld had played the night before, an ugly loss Madison hadn’t been able to tear her attention away from. She could have had one of those jackets, sitting next to Syd and all the other girls. Instead, she’s back in her apartment in Denver, alone. 

She wishes she could have stayed in Minnesota with Tyson for the first two games of the series. She gets a text from Tyson after the game that’s just a thumbs down emoji. Madison “dislikes” it out of solidarity. Tyson doesn’t call her that night. Madison has to remind herself that it’s okay, that they don’t have to talk all the time.

She watches anxiously two nights later as the Wild drag out a win, clutching a glass of wine for emotional support the whole time. 

Before she can think too hard about it, Madison’s opening her laptop. She’s in the middle of searching flights to St. Louis when her phone rings. It’s Tyson, and Madison doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“I miss you,” she says, before Tyson can get a greeting out. She has perhaps had a little too much wine. 

He chuckles. “It’s been less than a week, baby.” But then he adds, “I miss you, too.”

Madison shoves her laptop away and flops backwards on her bed. Last minute plane tickets are so expensive. So are playoff hockey tickets, apparently. She wonders if it would be easier to just drive to St. Louis.

“Wish I could be there,” she says next, even though she had just turned down Tyson when he’d asked her to stay. 

“Yeah, me too,” Tyson says after a beat. He doesn’t offer to fly Madison out again, though Madison can tell he wants to.

She doesn’t tell him that she’s only a few clicks away from buying herself tickets and meeting him in Missouri. Though she should probably do it while she’s not sober, before she can talk herself out of it in the morning. 

“Oh, good game, by the way,” Madison remembers to say.

Tyson huffs. “Are you already in bed?” Tyson asks. Madison can hear him banging around his hotel room, tinny and muffled where her phone has slid off her pillow. 

“Sorta,” Madison tells him. She pulls her laptop closer again. She could fly out after work and make it to the arena without missing too much of the game, probably. She winces again at the outrageous prices for the game. There aren’t even any good seats left.

Tyson speaks again. “Go to sleep, we can talk in the morning. I just wanted to say good night to you.” 

“In a minute,” she whines. She’s trying to remember her credit card number without having to get up and dig it out of her purse.

Tyson must hear her keyboard clacking. “What are you still doing on your computer?”

“Online shopping,” Madison lies. Well, half-lies. She is spending plenty of money right now. She triple-checks that her flight is booked correctly and that she purchased the ticket for the game before she finally slams her laptop shut and tosses it aside. “There, I’m done,” she tells Tyson.

“Buy anything good?” Tyson asks through a yawn. 

“Hope so, we’ll see.”

On Friday, Madison rushes off the plane, rushes through baggage claim, and rushes through renting a car. She’s cutting it close on time, with less than half an hour until puck drop. She drives as carefully and quickly as she can on the unfamiliar roads to the arena, one eye on the clock the whole time. The streets and parking around Enterprise Center are a fucking nightmare, but when she finally parks and makes it to the front doors, there’s still lines of people milling about, waiting to get in, too.

Madison checks her watch. Puck dropped five minutes ago. She pushes around a group of people who are somehow already drunk and towards the front of a line. All hockey arenas are the same, in a way, but Madison is immediately overwhelmed and disoriented. The first period is half over by the time she manages to get to the upper level and settle in her seat, but at least she finally made it. 

Madison takes a photo of the ice and texts it to Tyson with her usual black heart emoji. He’ll see it eventually. 

Madison has to keep herself from cheering too loudly for every Wild goal, surrounded by Blues fans as she is, and she’s probably one of the only people in the arena who’s happy when the Wild manage a neat win. 

She follows the throngs of people outside and back to her rental car. She has a text from Tyson waiting for her, just a string of exclamation marks. Another text comes through while she’s waiting for traffic to thin out, a request for Madison to call Tyson in all capital letters. Tyson’s breathless when he answers Madison’s call. “What the hell are you doing in St. Louis?” 

“Surprise?” Madison says weakly. 

Tyson laughs. “Hell of a surprise, babe.” He must pull his phone away from his ear, because Madison can still hear him speaking, but distantly. “Hang on, I’m trying to get you the address of the hotel, you can meet me there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Madison says. Tyson’s gone again, not really listening.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go, I’ll text you where to go, and I’ll see you soon, okay?” He hangs up without letting Madison reply, but he texts again seconds later with the name and address of the team hotel. 

Madison is anxiously idling in the hotel driveway when the team bus pulls in behind her. Tyson bounds off the bus almost before it comes to a full stop, and he races over to Madison’s car door and taps on the window.

Madison rolls down the window. “And what if it hadn’t been me in the car?” she teases.

Tyson is reaching through the now-open window to try and unlock the door, his tongue sticking out the way it does when he’s focusing on the ice. “I would have apologized. A lot.” He successfully presses the unlock button and yanks the car door open. “Come here, come here,” he says.

Madison laughs and climbs out of the car. Both of her feet aren’t even out of the car before Tyson’s sweeping her up in a hug so tight she swears she can feel her ribs shift. He sets her down and immediately cups her face.

“You’re here, I can’t believe you’re here.” Tyson narrows his eyes, and he squishes Madison’s cheeks where he’s still holding her face. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming.” 

Madison pries Tyson’s hands away enough to talk. “I wanted to surprise you.” Tyson’s teammates are still filtering off the bus, and they should probably move inside, too. “Can you let go of me so I can get my bag out of the trunk?” she asks.

Tyson considers this. He slides one hand down Madison’s arm until he can tangle their fingers together. He also leans into the car and deftly turns it off, holding the keys up with a grin. He nudges the door shut. “We can get your bag out of the trunk.” He proceeds to drag Madison around to the back of the car and drags her suitcase out of the back with his free hand. He stares between the suitcase in his hand and the open trunk before Madison takes pity on him and slams the trunk shut.

Madison hangs back while Tyson hands the car keys off to a valet, and then he’s dragging her towards the elevators, happily rolling Madison’s suitcase in front of him. At least the rest of the Wild players have all disappeared, sparing Madison from their stares and jeers. She tucks herself closer to Tyson in the elevator, suddenly self-conscious. Tyson kisses her temple.

Madison is suddenly exhausted as soon as they enter Tyson’s room. Tyson flips the light on as Madison kicks off her shoes. Tyson left the curtains open earlier, and Madison can see the Arch, lit up above the river, through the window. She’s too tired to give it more than a half-hearted glance on her way to face-planting into the pillows. 

Tyson’s laughing when she rolls over and brushes her hair out of her face. “I’m so fucking happy you’re here,” he says, jumping onto the bed next to Madison, and, really, that’s all that matters.

The Wild lose the next game at Enterprise, and Madison holds Tyson tightly for a long time in the hall outside the locker room before he has to get on a plane. They lose again at home, then yet again back in St. Louis. 

Just like that, hockey season is over. 

Tyson calls Madison after the last game. He sounds like he’s been crying, but he tries to be cheerful for Madison. She just wishes she could hug him, but she’s back in Denver. She knows the Avs swept the Predators already, and they’ll be facing St. Louis next. It’s not difficult to imagine how Tyson feels about that. 

“Come home with me,” Tyson blurts. He’s on the phone with Madison, getting ready to leave his Minnesota hotel room behind. He survived locker cleanout and exit interviews, and now he’s ready to sleep for about a week.

Madison, in the middle of complaining at work, freezes. “I—what?” She takes another moment to process. “Aren’t you coming back to Denver first?” Madison knows his apartment sits half-abandoned, filled with things too difficult or unnecessary to move after the trade. 

“Well, yeah, but like, after. You should come home with me,” Tyson repeats. He’s been dying to introduce her to his mom for months. He hopes his mom likes Madison as much as he does. He is a little worried about his sanity if Madison and Kacey get along as well as he thinks they will, though. 

“I’ve never been to Canada before,” Madison says thoughtfully. She’s barely travelled abroad at all, except for one trip to the UK after she graduated high school. Her passport has been collecting dust since then. 

“So you’ll come?” Tyson asks. 

“Is there even anything to do in Edmonton?” Madison teases.

“There’s so much to do, like—” Tyson pauses. It’s been a while since he’s had to play tourist back home. Madison is giggling on the other end of the line. “Shut up, we’ll figure something out.”

Tyson feels like he can breathe properly for the first time in months when he steps out of the airport in Denver. He wonders if any place will ever feel like home the way Denver does.

Tyson had managed to wheedle JT into picking him up, and he even brought coffee. Tyson ignores the way it almost feels like an apology. JT has nothing to be apologizing for, but Tyson just sips his coffee. 

The apartment smells stale when they walk in. Tyson’s mom had done a good job of cleaning for him, at least, and there aren’t any dirty dishes still stacked in the sink. He and JT are quiet as they walk through the apartment, opening windows. Tyson feels like he’s walking through someone else’s life. He stares for too long at his bed, freshly made and untouched for weeks. 

He shakes it off and goes to find the moving boxes.

“So, this is it, huh?” JT says.

He could be talking about all the boxes they’ve spent the last few hours filling boxes and separating them into piles to be shipped off to Minnesota—Tyson finally signed a lease for an apartment there—or to be sent back home for his family to deal with. An alarming amount of Tyson’s clothes is Avalanche-branded gear, and more of it got packed away to keep than Tyson is willing to admit. 

He could also be talking about the end of everything they’ve known together in Denver. Tyson’s spent years accepting the fact that hockey is a business before everything else, has gotten used to the revolving door of teammates each season. It’s been a long time since Rookie House days with Kerf. Tyson is going to walk out that apartment door, and he’s never going to be able to go back. A chapter—or book, really—in the story of his life ended for good. 

Tyson sighs. “This is it.”

The apartment is stripped bare when Madison steps through the door, left unlocked by JT and Tyson.

She drops her laptop bag and kicks off her shoes, saying, “You should be more careful, anybody could just walk in here.”

Tyson drops the box he’s holding and whirls around. Madison winces as its contents rattle. There’s no time to say anything else before Tyson is bounding across the room and wrapping her in a huge hug. 

“What, no hug for me?” JT asks from somewhere behind them. Tyson turns to glare at him, but Madison shoots him a smile.

“Hey, JT,” she says. She lets JT drape an arm around her in a half-hug.

“Betrayal,” Tyson says. He is ignored. 

They leave most of the boxes for the moving company to deal with. Madison bundles Tyson into her car with his bags of clothes, complaining the whole time about wanting dinner. She lets Tyson hold her hand across the console as she drives him to her apartment. 

It’s not the first time Tyson’s been to Madison’s apartment, but it still feels strange to be there instead of his own. They’ve spent so much time there the past few months, watching movies on the couch, doing things other than sleeping in the bed. He misses it already, all the memories they made as they fumbled their way into a relationship. 

He says as much to Madison, expecting her to tease him for something so objectively dumb—to miss an apartment he lived in half of the time for like six months—but the look she gives him is almost sad.

“That’s a bit dramatic,” she says. Tyson pulls her in by the hips, letting her lean her weight on him. “But I guess we’ll just have to keep making more memories, yeah?” 

Later that night, tangled up in Madison’s sheets, Tyson stares at the dark ceiling. He can feel Madison, looking rumpled and in his shirt, watching him. She nudges his calf with her toes. He doesn’t look at her, focused on keeping his eyes from welling up. Then Madison’s hand is on his cheek, turning his head towards her.

“How you doin’, bud?” 

Tyson lets Madison pull him close and hold him tightly. He slides a hand under her shirt and to the bare skin of her hip, just feeling the comforting warmth of her skin. 

“What if it’s never like this again?” Tyson whispers back. This—Denver and the Avalanche, friends who become family; Madison in bed next to him, loving him and wearing his clothes. Minnesota had been okay, but Tyson worked his ass off and never felt settled. Maybe it was the endless hotel life, maybe it was the team, maybe it was him. He feels like a child, begging his mom to tell him everything was going to be okay. 

Madison doesn’t know how to comfort Tyson. It probably never will be like this again. Madison can’t see the future, and she can’t promise Tyson anything, either. “I don’t know, baby,” Madison admits. “I don’t know.” 

Tyson doesn’t cry, but they both lay awake for a long time. 

June

They fly into Edmonton together on Friday. Tyson seems nervous the whole flight and all the way through the airport. At baggage claim, as they wait for their suitcases, Madison turns on him.

“What’s up with you?” she asks. Tyson blinks at her like he forgot she was there. “You’re not seriously this worried about me meeting your family, are you?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know!” Tyson crosses his arms. He’s pretty sure his suitcase just spun past them on the carousel. He lowers his voice. “I don’t really bring girls home, I don’t know. I don’t know how this is supposed to go.”

“Oh, Tys. It’s going to be fine, I promise.” Madison tosses her hair, and Tyson manages a weak smile. “Your family is going to love me so much they’ll forget you even exist.”

“Hey!”

Tyson had lobbied hard for taking an Uber from the airport, to give Madison and himself a few last moments of peace before a week with his family, but his mom had put her foot down and insisted on picking them up. She’s already idling at the curb when they step out of the airport.

Madison calls shotgun, leaving Tyson to throw their suitcases in the trunk and slide into the backseat. His mom is in the middle of telling Madison, “Call me Laura, please!” Madison turns in her seat to grin at Tyson as his mom pulls away and starts driving out of the airport. She refrains from grilling Madison on the short drive home, something Tyson is grateful for. He zones out while Madison explains where she grew up and what she does and lets himself relax back into his seat.

Before he knows it, they’re pulling up to the house, and Kacey is sprinting out the front door to greet them. Tyson groans, but he eagerly shoves his car door open before the car is in park and lets Kacey jump on him. 

Madison gets out of the car at a more leisurely—and sane—pace, and Kacey turns to wrap her in a hug as soon as she lets go of Tyson.

“I’m Kacey,” she says, pulling away and gripping Madison by the shoulders. “The better Jost sibling.”

Tyson pulls on Kacey’s ponytail. She smacks him in the chest without turning around. Tyson’s about to lunge and get Kacey in a headlock when their mom yells, “Behave,” at them from the front door.

Madison’s looking faintly overwhelmed. Tyson mouths “You okay?” at her over Kacey’s shoulder. Madison just grins and lets Kacey grab her by the hand and drag her inside. He’s pretty sure he hears Kacey telling her how much their grandparents can’t wait to meet her as they go. He shakes his head and retrieves their luggage from the trunk.

He’s missed all the introductions by the time he makes it inside. Madison sits on the couch next to Kacey, the spot on Madison’s other side left conspicuously open. Tyson ignores Kacey’s smirk and plops himself down next to Madison. 

“So, how did you two meet?” Tyson’s grandpa asks.

Tyson refrains from glaring at him. Madison laughs next to him.

“He picked me up in a bar, and I had no idea he was a hockey player,” she says. Tyson had almost forgotten about that part. “We kinda just…kept seeing each other after that.” 

That’s a delicate way of putting it.

“So you’re the reason Tyson ditched us over Christmas, huh?” Kacey asks next. She’s smirking again, directed straight at Tyson over Madison’s head. Tyson has not forgotten that part, struggling to lie to Kacey and his mom.

“Kacey!” Tyson and his mom both protest, but Madison just laughs again. Something about the question melts all of the tension out of her shoulders. She turns a little to lean against Tyson.

“Yeah, that was me,” Madison says. Tyson can’t see her face, but she doesn’t sound very sheepish. She tilts her chin to look up at Tyson. “I should’ve known something was up when he couldn’t go more than a few days without seeing me.” “Hey,” Tyson protests again, weakly. She’s right, though. They really should have figured out their shit sooner, but they got to the right place eventually. 

Conversation drifts away from the topic of their relationship after that. Tyson drapes an arm across Madison’s shoulders. After a while of catching up—Tyson and hockey season, or Kacey and her school year—mixed in with his family asking Madison questions to get to know her better, Tyson’s mom and grandma head to the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

Madison tries to follow and offer to help, but Tyson tightens his arm around her. He kisses her forehead, whispering, “Stay here,” into her hair. Madison stays.

They’re getting ready for bed later—banished to separate rooms, of course—when Madison notices Tyson getting nervous again.

“What’s up?” Madison asks, sliding between him and the bathroom sink. They’re pushing it, probably, spending this long in the bathroom with the door closed. 

Tyson shrugs. “Worried about you and Kacey spending all night gossiping.” They’d really hit it off over dinner, which Tyson is simultaneously grateful for and horrified by. From the look Madison gives him, she’s not buying it. “It’s just…the Avs are in town tomorrow night, and I got tickets, and you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, but I want to go, and—”

Madison cuts him off with a hand over his mouth. “Tyson, I’d love to go to the game with you.”

Tyson relaxes again, and Madison moves her hand. Tyson takes the opportunity to bully her up against the sink and kiss her. Tyson’s just getting into it when Kacey bangs on the bathroom door. He’s pretty sure he accidentally bites Madison’s lip when he jerks away. Madison grumbles at him, but she ducks around him to open the door. Tyson tries not to whine about it.

Going to the game together the next night is strange. Tyson hasn’t been to Rogers Place and not been playing a game since he was a kid, probably. Madison had never really been to a hockey game before she’d met Tyson, and she’s definitely never gone to a game with Tyson. 

They mostly go unnoticed, except for a handful of people who stop Tyson and ask for a picture. Madison hangs back while he politely smiles at the camera. It’s easy to fade into the crush of the crowd, and Tyson keeps a tight hold and Madison’s hand as they make their way through the concourse and to their seats.

After that, it’s just like any other hockey game. Cheering for the Avalanche is familiar, even if the way Tyson is squeezing Madison’s hand at every single scoring chance is not. She’d tease him for his nervousness, especially because the Avalanche are winning easily, except for the fact that she knows it had to be hard for him to come out tonight. To cheer for his old team, his friends, knowing that with every win they’re one step closer to something he can’t be a part of. 

So she lets him hold her hand as tightly as he wants. It’s the best she can offer. 

They don’t linger after the game. Tyson seems eager to escape the arena, and Madison lets him lead her back to the car. He puts on a Spotify playlist and turns the volume up loud, but he’s mostly quiet on the drive to the house, one hand on the wheel, one hand on Madison’s thigh.

Madison gets caught up talking to Laura when they get to the house, and she loses track of Tyson for a while. He’s not upstairs in his old bedroom, or even bugging Kacey in her bedroom. Madison ventures outside. Tyson has dragged a lawn chair out to the driveway, but he’s laying on his back on the cold concrete, staring up at the dim stars. The moon is just a sliver in the sky. 

Madison nudges him with her foot. He wraps a hand around her ankle, squeezes once.

“You alive down there?”

Tyson makes a sound that almost passes for a laugh. Madison is pretty sure his eyes are wet, shiny in the dark. Madison lays down next to him. The concrete is hard against her shoulder blades, and it feels damp through her thin T-shirt. 

“This fucking sucks,” Tyson says. It’s too loud for how late it is, and his voice echoes a little around the quiet street. He rubs a hand angrily across his face. “I want to be out there, playing for the Cup, not fucking sitting in the arena watching them. I guess I should be happy for them because they’re my friends, you know? But I kinda want to hate them, too.” He’s quiet for a moment. He reaches for Madison’s hand, brings it to his mouth to press a kiss to her palm, before settling their clasped hands on his chest. “I might not have asked for a trade if I had known it would be this shitty,” he admits.

“It’s okay to be mad, Tyson,” Madison says gently.

“It’s not—I don’t know if I’m mad. I wish I could be.”

“It’s okay to be sad, too,” she says.

“Yeah,” Tyson says, voice thick. 

They’re both quiet for so long, Madison’s half-certain Tyson’s fallen asleep, if not for his occasional sniffle. He sits up after a while, still holding Madison’s hand. Even in the dark, Madison can see him yawn.

“Ready for bed?” Madison asks.

Tyson nods. “D’you think I can sneak you into my bed?”

He pulls Madison to her feet as she lets out a startled laugh. Tyson kisses her quiet. “I’m willing to get in trouble if you are.”

The house is dark when they slip back inside. They giggle their way through brushing their teeth, close together at the bathroom sink, elbows bumping. Tyson shushes her loudly as they tiptoe carefully down the hall. Madison’s pretty sure he’s being louder than her, but whatever.

Madison wakes to an empty bed and late morning sunlight. She can hear Tyson’s voice drifting up the stairs. That boy truly does not know how to be quiet. Madison has an Instagram notification when she swipes her phone off the bedside table: josty17 has tagged you in a post. Madison frowns and unlocks her phone, wondering what unflattering photo of her Tyson took. Instead, it’s a photo Kacey or Laura must have taken the morning before. Madison’s laying on top of Tyson on the couch, Tyson visibly complaining that he’s being squished, despite the fact that he had pulled Madison on top of him. He captioned it with a black heart emoji. 

Madison makes her way downstairs. Tyson sits at the kitchen table, arguing with Kacey over something stupid. He reaches a hand out for Madison without stopping whatever he’s ranting about. There’s a fresh mug of coffee in his hand, already doctored the way Madison likes it. Tyson uses his now-free hand to loop around Madison’s waist and tug her onto his lap. She hooks her arms around Tyson’s neck and sips her coffee, content to listen to this argument, even though she’s still not sure what they’re arguing about. She thinks she hears something about which fruit would make the best weapon. 

It might not be easy, but Madison thinks they’ll be just fine.

[shutth3puckup]

about tyson jost! i know you said he has a particular look he goes for but i swore i’ve seen that he was out with someone who was mid sized/plus sized??? or am i going insane :,)

Oh, that would be amazing if he was!

Does anyone have details on this? Do you know when you saw this - I can dive into it but a rough timeline would help so I don't go too far back!

[puckgoss]

Y'all I NEDD Tyson Jost you don't even get it

lollll there's nothing new on him but here's some old tea

[ilyasorokinn]

welcome to new york , tyson jost

note, i am sad once again, but not as sad as i was when he was first t-worded to minnesota. as always, i am wishing tyson the best of luck with his new team and will forever support him wherever he goes. another note, this fic is part of “the jost family” series. check out this masterlist. pair, tyson jost x reader summary, tyson jost gets signed with a new team. warnings, children, pain, dramatics word count, 1303 words

(gif not mine)

Tyson getting placed on waivers was so out of left field, you didn't even see it coming. Tyson let you know that it would happen a couple of hours before it was announced so you could process it.

The thought of having to uproot your entire life again stressed you out. Even if he wasn't signed with a team and was signed to the AHL team, that was still in a different state.

You sat both Noah and Rory down on the couch, "So, we have some news for you." You and Tyson both looked at each other nervously.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Well, we have some news." Tyson let out a nervous breath, "I got put on waivers." They both looked confused, "Do you know what that means?" Noah both shook his head while Rory still looked confused, "Well, it means that..." He was clearly struggling to find the words as he looked over at you.

"Well, it means that the Wild are letting other teams sign daddy." You explained, which didn't help due to the perplexed look on your children's faces.

"They're letting me go, bud." Tyson cut in, "And it means that any other team in the league has a chance to sign me in the next day."

"We have to move again?" Noah asked, his eyes filling with tears and his bottom lip wobbled.

"I'm sorry, buddy." Tyson picked him up and sat him in his lap, hugging him.

"But we just got here."

"I know." You could tell Tyson was beating himself up about the whole waivers thing. Rory climbed off the couch and waddled over to you, seeking comfort in your arms.

The entire rest of the day, you tried to do things that would occupy your mind and most definitely avoided social media. You ordered food in and watched movies for the rest of the night, or until Noah fell asleep.

You looked over at Tyson and could see the cogs turning in his head, "Hey." He looked over at you, "Stop doing whatever you're doing. Stop blaming yourself, 'cause it sure as hell isn't your fault." He nodded but looked unconvinced as he looked down at his lap.

The most you could do with a sleeping child in your arms was reach over and grab his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He looked over at you, "We're not done talking about this."

-

Before you both went to bed, you had a long and lengthy talk about what you would do if he were to get signed to a new team. If it was in America, you would fly out with him, wherever that might've been, and stay with him for a few days to watch him officially sign and watch his first game, then go home.

If it was a Canadian team, he would fly out alone and sign by himself, but you would watch from home, cheering him on.

The next morning, you continued with the game routine as the day before, doing tasks that would take your mind off of the anxiety coursing through your veins.

Noah was pretty much oblivious to the stress you and Tyson were both having, which was for the better. You didn't want him to worry about that.

You were halfway through your second movie of the morning when Tyson's phone buzzed on the table. You and he immediately looked over at each other before he picked it up.

He read the caller ID, then looked over at you and nodded, "I gotta take this." He stood up and walked into the kitchen. You looked down at Rory and Noah, who were already looking at you.

"Nordy?" Rory asked. Nordy was the Wild's mascot, and the easiest way to explain to her that daddy was on a business call was just to tell her that it was Nordy.

"Yeah, it's Nordy." You kissed her head as you all turned your attention back to the TV. A few minutes later, Tyson came back into the room, looking a lot less stressed and nervous.

"So? What's the word?"

"We're gonna need to pack a few bags." He told you.

"We're still in the States?" You asked.

"Buffalo." He smiled, "We're going to New York."

You let out a breath that had been waiting to be let out since yesterday, "We're going to New York." You chuckled.

"Alexa, play "Welcome to New York." The intro to the Taylor Swift song began playing and before you could even blink, Tyson grabbed your hand and pulled you off the couch, and started rocking back and forth dramatically to the music.

Rory and Noah joined in, dancing around you and Tyson as the music kept playing and even after "Welcome to New York" stopped playing. The rest of the morning was filled with more laughter, a great shift from the day before.

-

After lunch, you were packing a few bags and flew off to New York, where you were greeted warmly at the airport by Sabretooth, the mascot, and a few other members of the Sabres staff.

After getting changed, you headed over to the arena to officially sign the papers. Photos were taken of him shaking hands with the owners and all the important people and his new captain.

After getting all the important stuff out of the way, Kyle Okposo, the Sabres captain, turned to Rory and Noah, "Welcome to the team, guys." He bent down to their height and gave them high fives. You knew cameras were on you but kept your focus on Rory and Noah.

"As a welcome to the team, we got you a couple of things." Someone walked over with two bags in hand and handed them to Kyle. He pulled out two Sabretooth stuffed animals and handed them to both kids.

"Look, mommy." Rory turned around to you and showed you her new stuffie.

"Wow, look at that." You bent down next to both of them as he pulled the next thing out. Two jerseys with 'Jost' and '17' on the back, "These are for you two." He handed one to Noah and the other to Rory.

You looked over at Tyson, a shocked look on your face when you saw the number on the back of the jersey. He only smiled and nodded.

-

There was a game on the day you flew into Buffalo, but things were too last minute, so Tyson's Buffalo Sabres debut was pushed back a few days.

While Tyson trained with the team, you made a quick trip to the store to create a sign with Noah and Rory. You wrote 'Welcome dad. We love you!' then let Noah and Rory draw all over it.

You got them changed into their new jerseys and bundled in many layers before heading off to the arena. You got through security and got your family passes, then made your way down to the glass.

You sat in the seat in front of the glass, Rory in your lap, while Noah stood in front of you, holding the sign.

The lights dimmed, and you watched as, one by one, each of them skated out. You waited until you saw Tyson skate out, "There he is." You pointed this out to both kids.

Noah held the sign up higher, trying to get his father's attention. Tyson looked around every side of the glass before he finally clocked you, and he skated up.

Noah beamed brightly as he and his dad did their special little rituals. Before he skated off, he tossed a puck over the glass for Noah, then one for Rory.

You caught them both and handed them to each child, before looking back up and Tyson, and blowing him a kiss. He smiled and blew an exaggerated, dramatic one back to you.

-

my taglist: @kolsmikaelson @ashleymarine @typical-simplelove @kidlnthedark @bowen-power @nhlrbs @lam-ila @stars-canucks @iwantahockeyhimbo @2manytabsopen @owenpowersglasses @calermakar08 @hamilton160 @pierrelucduboiis @thescooby-gang @huggybearmylove43 @sammysworldddd @corneliaskates @mista-svech @samanthasgone @hockeyboysarehot @nicoleloveshockey @thedukes-56-5 @nickblankenburgg @sidcrosbyspuck @kaydenissleepy @Yagetintoit @seventieswhore @MichelleKirby30 @jamieeboulos @Coffeeandteaandflowers @bibella8swan @cuttergauth @boqvistsbabe @sophia-bordeleau @madison-nhl @jayda12

add yourself to my taglist!

i also don't know if he's number 17, but I'm really hoping he is. he can't be 10 cause someone else is also 10, so we can only hope he's number 17 again :)

[thebusylilbee]

"Vers un bouleversement, mais à petits pas. L’Arcom, l’autorité de régulation de l’audiovisuel, a rendu publique le 18 juillet sa délibération concernant le respect du « pluralisme des courants de pensée et d’opinion ». Désormais, au lieu de contrôler seulement le temps de parole des responsables politiques à la radio et à la télé, afin de s’assurer que les divers courants politiques y ont droit à la parole de manière équitable, le gendarme de l’audiovisuel prendra en compte l’ensemble des participant·es aux programmes.

Objectif : lutter contre l’installation sur les antennes d’un déséquilibre « manifeste et durable » dérogeant aux principes du pluralisme politique, au sens large. Mais sans renouveler fondamentalement la manière dont l’Arcom opère. [...]

« Une évolution importante », qui était attendue depuis le 13 février dernier, date à laquelle le Conseil d’État, plus haute juridiction administrative, a demandé à l’Arcom de mieux veiller au respect du pluralisme par les médias qu’il contrôle en général, et par CNews en particulier.

Saisi par Reporters sans frontières (RSF) en 2021, qui lui demandait de mettre en demeure la chaîne d’information de Vincent Bolloré pour manquement à ses obligations relatives à l’honnêteté, à l’indépendance et au pluralisme de l’information, le gendarme de l’audiovisuel avait refusé. Début 2023, Roch-Olivier Maistre [président de l'ARCOM] avait même assuré que « CNews respecte strictement le pluralisme politique ».

Le Conseil d’État, pas franchement du même avis, avait donné raison sur presque toute la ligne à RSF, estimant pour la première fois que le respect du pluralisme devait tenir compte de « l’ensemble des participants aux programmes diffusés, y compris les chroniqueurs, animateurs et invités ». À charge pour l’Arcom de trouver, dans les six mois suivant la décision, le moyen de s’assurer du contrôle de cette obligation renforcée. [...]

Roch-Olivier Maistre et ses troupes traqueront désormais, a-t-il indiqué, le « déséquilibre évident ou, pour employer une expression à la mode, systémique, structurel, qui saute aux yeux ». Pour retenir leur attention, il faudra que ce déséquilibre soit aussi durable : il sera scruté sur une durée de trois mois pour les chaînes et radios classiques, et sur un mois pour les chaînes d’info en continu.

Pour se faire son avis, le régulateur s’appuiera sur « un faisceau d’indices » : la diversité des intervenant·es sur les plateaux, la diversité des thématiques faisant l’objet d’émissions, et la pluralité des points de vue exprimés sur chaque thème. « Est-ce qu’on est monocolore, monothématique, mono-intervenant ? », a traduit Roch-Olivier Maistre. [...]

Comme aujourd’hui, le gendarme de l’audiovisuel attendra la plupart du temps d’être saisi par des signalements pour se pencher sur un cas. Son attention se portera principalement sur les émissions d’information et « sur les programmes qui concourent à l’information », comme les débats et autres tablées d’éditorialistes, mais aussi les émissions d’infotainment.

Pas de grande surprise

[...] À vrai dire, on ne voit que les médias de Bolloré pour être gênés par les changements annoncés. Le recours de 2021 de RSF s’appuyait en particulier sur une étude de François Jost, sémiologue et professeur émérite à l’université Sorbonne-Nouvelle, qui avait démontré qu’en une semaine sur CNews, « les invités de droite et d’extrême droite [représentaient] plus des trois quarts des présences en plateau (78 %) ».

Précisément, sur le papier, la chaîne ne franchissait pas la ligne parce que, parmi les fers de lance de l’ultraconservatisme qu’elle promouvait, les journalistes étaient plus nombreux que les représentant·es de parti, et échappaient donc aux décomptes. L’Arcom va bientôt répondre une seconde fois à RSF, sur la base du nouveau cadre qu’elle vient de fixer.

La chaîne d’info a donc du souci à se faire. Tout comme sa petite sœur C8, théâtre des outrances de Cyril Hanouna, de plus en plus droitières au fil des mois, et Europe 1, la radio absorbée en 2020 par Vincent Bolloré, et qui n’a désormais plus rien à envier aux autres médias du groupe en termes de tonalité.

Rappelons que dès l’annonce de la dissolution par Emmanuel Macron, Sophie Davant a été éjectée d’Europe 1 pour faire de la place à Cyril Hanouna, qui a, trois semaines durant dans sa quotidienne d’une heure trente, fustigé l’alliance des partis de gauche et déroulé le tapis rouge aux candidat·es d’extrême droite.

[...]

À elles deux, C8 et CNews ont essuyé depuis 2012 plus de 45 sanctions de l’Arcom et de son ancêtre le CSA, pour un total de 7,5 millions d’euros d’amende (dont plus de 7 millions pour C8). Sans effet aucun sur leur manière de traiter l’actualité et de favoriser les thèmes et les prises de position chères à l’extrême droite.

Et jamais l’Arcom n’est allée jusqu’à prononcer les sanctions les plus sévères que lui autorise la loi, comme la suspension d’une émission ou, en dernier recours, le retrait de l’autorisation d’émettre à la chaîne dans son ensemble.

Avant la fin juillet, l’Arcom devra néanmoins faire un choix décisif, en réattribuant ou non à Bolloré les fréquences des ses deux chaînes controversées. L’autorité doit en effet trancher sur le renouvellement de l’attribution des fréquences des quinze chaînes de la TNT. Les auditions dans ce cadre, qui se sont achevées le 17 juillet, n’ont pas montré que les lieutenants de Bolloré avaient l’intention de changer quoi que ce soit à leurs méthodes.

Quelle que soit sa décision, l’Arcom a d’ores et déjà du pain sur la planche pour appliquer les nouvelles règles, car elles s’appliquent rétroactivement à compter du 13 février dernier, date à laquelle le Conseil d’État a rendu sa décision. Nul doute que l’autorité de régulation aura matière à se pencher de nouveau régulièrement sur les outrances des médias Bolloré.

Roch-Olivier Maistre a indiqué avoir déjà été saisi de plusieurs signalements sur le respect du pluralisme des opinions. « Le régulateur sera très attentif sur ce sujet, qui est central pour notre vitalité démocratique », a-t-il promis."

[enibas22]

You Tube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PzLtaF6dYMI&t=101s

14th March 2024

DIE ERMITTLUNG - Plakat und Trailer

Regisseur RP Kahl hat das Theaterstück "Die Ermittlung" von Peter Weiss mit 60 Schauspieler:innen für die Kinoleinwand inszeniert. Der heute veröffentlichte Trailer gibt einen ersten Einblick in das künstlerisch radikale Projekt, das Kino, Theater und neueste Broadcast-Techniken verbindet, um einen eindringlichen und zeitgemäßen Beitrag zur Erinnerungskultur zu leisten.

Im Zentrum des Films stehen ein Richter, ein Verteidiger und ein Ankläger, die im Rahmen der Verhandlung auf 28 Zeug:innen treffen, die von ihren Erlebnissen und Beobachtungen in Auschwitz berichten. Weitere 11 Zeug:innen der ehemaligen Lagerverwaltung sagen vor Gericht aus. Die 18 Angeklagten werden im Prozess mit Beschreibungen der Zeug:innen konfrontiert und sollen Stellung beziehen.

Das Theaterstück wurde 1965 uraufgeführt und hat bis heute nichts von seinem Schrecken verloren: Es basiert auf persönlichen Aufzeichnungen, Zeitungsartikeln und Protokollen des ersten Frankfurter Auschwitz-Prozesses (1963 bis 1965). In unmissverständlich klarer Sprache von Peter Weiss zu einem lyrischen Klagegesang verdichtet und montiert, konfrontiert das Stück Täter und Opfer und lässt das Grauen in Auschwitz spürbar werden.

Nach einer intensiven, vierwöchigen Probenzeit haben 60 Schauspieler:innen den Text von Peter Weiss für die Kinoleinwand zum Leben erweckt. An insgesamt fünf Drehtagen wurden die einzelnen Gesänge im Studio Berlin Adlershof mit einem ausgefeilten visuellen Konzept in nur einer Einstellung gedreht - eingefangen von insgesamt acht Kameras.

In den Hauptrollen sind Rainer Bock als Richter, Clemens Schick als Ankläger und Bernhard Schütz als Verteidiger zu sehen. Hochkarätig besetzt sind auch alle anderen Rollen, so werden die Zeug:innen von Andreas Anke, Filipp Avdeev, Elisabeth Duda, Marc Fischer, Arno Frisch, Attila Georg Borlan, Dorka Gryllus, Marek Harloff, André Hennicke, Marcel Hensema, Rony Herman, Marco Hofschneider, Robert Hunger-Bühler, Rene Ifrah, Eva Maria Jost, Christian Kaiser, Klaudiusz Kaufmann, Nicolette Krebitz, Andreas Lechner, Peter Lohmeyer, Jiri Madl, Karl Markovics, Thomas Meinhardt, Robert Mika, Axel Moustache, Dirk Ossig, Axel Pape, Christiane Paul, Barbara Philipp, Andreas Pietschmann, Ralph Schicha, Peter Schneider, Andreas Schröders, Axel Sichrovsky, André Szymanski, Sabine Timoteo, Tom Wlaschiha, Mark Zak und Matthias Zera verkörpert. In der Rolle der Angeklagten standen Thomas Dehler, Nico Ehrenteit, Wilfried Hochholdinger, Christian Hockenbrink, Timo Jacobs, Ronald Kukulies, Lasse Myhr, Christian Pfeil, Torsten Ranft, Michael Rotschopf, Frank Röth, Matthias Salamon, Niels Bruno Schmidt, Tristan Seith, Michael Schenk, Arndt Schwering-Sohnrey, Adam Venhaus, Till Wonka vor den Kameras.