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ringanon · 10 months

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Nap Time | John Marino

Pairing: John Marino x gn!reader

Warnings: John acts a little whiny in this, mentions of love/marriage/kids

Word Count: 575

Summary: John insists on taking his pregame naps with you

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"Honey, I'm back!" John came bursting through the door of your shared apartment. He found you in the kitchen making him his pregame meal, a task you had taken on when you both still lived in Pittsburgh. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. The kisses he pressed to your shoulder and neck were the same ones he did every time he came back from morning skate.

"Johnny, why don't you eat a little first."

"Come nap with me, sweetheart. Just for a little while," John pulled you closer to him, making it increasingly difficult to cook. He could tell based on the sigh that left your lips that you were conflicted, "we can eat after we wake up, I'll set an alarm."

"You know that if I sleep right now, I won't be able to sleep tonight, then I'll be miserable when we wake up tomorrow."

He sighed, kissing your jawline. He mumbled against your skin, "Then just lay with me, you can finish that book that you've been reading or something."

There it was. Between his fingers tracing your hip, his lips on your skin, and the soft pleading sound of his voice, you caved, "let me finish this first and I'll go take a nap with you."

John celebrated with a harshly whispered, "yes!" behind you. You finished what you were doing and turned off all the burners on the stove. The look on his face when you turned around was blissful. Never in your life did you ever think you would find a man who enjoyed being close to you like this. John appreciated the smaller details of your relationship, he loved the feeling of your skin against his and he loved the way he felt when you were with him. Everything about you made him fall in love with you. Having his pregame nap with you was, hands down, one of his favorite parts of his job.

By the time you were comfortable on the bed, you were laying down against the pillows, your boyfriend laying on top of you. His head was on your stomach, hands around your waist, his hips pressed against your thigh. He encouraged you to wrap your legs around him as he layed in between them. You listened as John dozed off to sleep.

He enjoyed the feeling of your hands in his hair, the rising and falling of your chest, and the safety of being crowded by your thighs. There was a peace that he felt around you that made him want to cling to you for the rest of his life. He wouldn't mind making this a routine for the rest of his career. Maybe one day he'd add a kid in a bassenett next to the bed and the soft lullibies of his favorite person in the world to his kid.

You stared up at the white ceiling above the bed listening to John's heartbeat. There was tranquility in his pregame naps. There was no where safer than laying in bed with John, a concept you had not quite gotten used to. As much of a fight that you put up, John's pre game naps were one of the things about his job that you looked forward to. Sure, the travelling and whatever kicked rocks, but everything you felt in this moment made it all worth it. There was no one better for you than John, and you were more than okay with that.

-💍

I wrote up the original concept of this during Christmas of last year and I'm finally ready to send this out into the world, I think.

#John Marino #john marino imagine #nhl #new jersey devils #john marino x reader

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ringanon · 11 months

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Thank you for your service 🫡

Pedro boys kissing

No commentary needed. Happy Monday y'all! 💋

• Masterlist •

Pedro boys being sassy AF

Ode to shoulder holsters

Pedro boys disrobed

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ringanon · 11 months

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My Girl | Thomas Bordeleau

Pairing: Thomas Bordeleau x fem!reader

Warnings: jealousy, suggestive smut, couple swear words

Word Count: 943

Summary: Based on a concept/conversation with @lukeevangelista . you go to one of Thomas' games and catch the attention of some of the rookies

Read the conversation

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He knew. He pretended like he didn't, but he knew. Thomas was more than well aware that bringing a girlfriend as attractive as his in front of a bunch of single rookies was a risk. It was a risk he was willing to take, though. Thomas didn't get a chance to show you off a lot, and by God, was he taking the opportunity tonight.

There was something about watching you cheer for him that made him perform better. Knowing that you were doing so with his last name across your shoulder blades drove him wild; knowing that all of his teammates saw you behind Reimer during the second period ignited a fire in his stomach and an eruption in his chest that led him to a hat trick that night. He knew his girl was watching, he could hear some of the rookies talking about it on the bench.

One of them, whose name he had yet to learn, yelled out, "it's a shame that girl over there is wearing Bordy's sweater, otherwise I'd think I had a chance."

Another one leaned over, "She with you Bordy?"

"Yeah she is, actually. That's my girl, Y/N." Thomas didn't look away from the game. He tried to keep his tone firm and even. He wanted to convince the kid sitting next to him that he hadn't been waiting to shout it from the rooftops since they saw him throw you a puck during warmups.

He had walked into the locker room after the game. By the time he had finished talking to you, most of his teammates had left. It left him and a group of three rookies. He tried to not evesdrop onto the conversation happening a few stalls down.

"...fine as fuck."

"Do I want to know?" Thomas didn't need to ask, he knew who they were talking about.

"No." The rookie was quick to brush him off, turning a deep shade of maroon, and clamping his hand over his knee until his knuckles turned a pale white.

Thomas paused, looking between the huddle of boys, "That's what I thought."

He tore off his clothes, thinking about the way your fingers would feel against his skin later tonight. He buttoned up his shirt. Thomas laughed when he did the last few buttons, knowing that it would be off too soon to really be worth buttoning it now.

"I'm surprised your girl didn't come in with you, Bordy." The same voice from the opposite end of the row of stalls caught him off guard.

"And why is that?" He sat down at his stall to put on his shoes, "Is this an excuse for you guys to gawk at her?"

"No-" they were quick to defend themselves, knowing they had been caught.

Thomas shot a text message to you, asking you to come into the locker room, they got to gawk at a sight to behold, and he got to dig his nails into the brains of those rookies. He wanted them to remember you were all his. A few minutes later, the door creaked open, you peeked your head in, frantically looking around the room to make sure that no one was changing and that, in fact, Thomas was still in there. You made eye contact with him and smiled. Thomas leaned back in his seat and opened his arms. The way you smiled made him forget that you were being oogled over a couple seats down. His hand met your thigh to pull you closer to him, giving his other hand a change to curl around your hip. He rested his other hand on your back, holding you there to press a kiss to your stomach through your jersey. He had to consciously hold his head together when your fingers found his hair, running them through his damp curls, "Hi pretty girl."

You whispered out your response, "I know they've been gawking at me the whole game, I know this is you marking your territory."

He pulled away to look up at you, "I'm not an idiot, Thomas."

You smiled, moving your hand to grab his cheek in your palm. You leaned down to kiss him and suddenly everything melted away. He pulled you down to straddle his lap, running his hands over your back, slipping a hand into one of the back pockets of your jeans to pull you closer to him. You pulled away and rested your forehead against his, "I'm glad you came today."

"And it totally isn't to brag to all of your teammates." You smiled, sitting up and wrapping your arms around him. You let him rest his head on your chest.

"Nope not at all, although I think it's working." You looked over your shoulder and the group of rookies all looked away to avoid eye contact with you, pretending they were deep in conversation.

"It's 100 percent working, Thom." There was a long pause, Thomas listened to your heartbeat while you just enjoyed the chance to have him this close to you, "Are you ready? I have plans I need to attend to."

Thomas snapped his head to look up to you, "What plans?"

You sighed, reaching behind you to grab his hand. You slid it up your jersey, letting him feel the lace that clad your skin. His eyes glittered when he looked up at you, "It's a new one, black, you haven't seen it yet."

He grabbed his backpack off the floor, and stood up. You yelped, wrapping your legs around his waist and clutching his shoulders to hold yourself up. The door slammed behind him, which made all the rookies jump. They sat and waited until you two were well down the hallway to continue their conversation.

-💍

This has been sitting in my drafts for FOREVER, yall can have it now.

#thomas bordeleau #thomas bordeleau imagine #nhl #san jose sharks #san jose barracuda #thomas bordeleau x reader

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ringanon · 11 months

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Phone Call | Auston Matthews

Pairing: Auston Matthews x gn!reader

Warning(s): none

Word Count: 680

Summary: You call your boyfriend, Auston, before Game 6 of the 1st Round (2023)

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"Hi, baby!" He had only been gone for a day, but you were still happy for the chance to talk to him. You set up the camera on your kitchen island, sitting on one of the bar stools.

"Hey, mi amor, we're about to head out, but I wanted to call you first." Auston's voice came over as somber: he was focused. There was intent in his voice. He set up his phone against the bed side table in the hotel room, grabbing the office chair behind him.

"Are we doing fit checks?" It had been a tradition of yours for every away game. Now that they were in the playoffs, it was crucial. He liked seeing you all pretty, you liked seeing him in formal attire.

"Obviously, whatchu rockin'?" He leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows against his knees.

"So we went with something a little calmer today. A couple of the girls are coming over here, we're gonna crack open a bottle or two of wine and watch the game. The jersey is a one-of-a-kind game worn jersey given to me by a player of the Toronto Maple Leafs. I think his name is Auston? He spells it with an O, not an I, tryna be different, or something.

The jeans are a light-wash Lee's that I thrifted from my hometown. I am not wearing shoes since I will be inside, but in case I do need to go out, I will be rocking my blue and white Air Forces that I got custom-made." Auston tilted his head, not quite sure which ones you were talking about. You dipped out of camera and picked them up from underneath the island. You had commissioned casual shoes to wear for games and events from a guy you saw on tik tok. Auston had only seen them a handful of times.

"Ah, I forgot about those ones. Looking good."

"What are we working with?

"I ended up deciding on the tan one."

"Oh come on! I expect a presentation! Some Pizzazz please, Matthews!"

"Fine! God! The jacket and trousers are the Lardini suit from Farfetch, shirt is from Men's Wearhouse, and the shoes are white Air Forces."

"That's better, we'll work on it."

He laughed, "are you watching the game tonight?"

"Do you listen to these presentations or do you just stare at my ass the whole time? A couple of the girls are coming over to watch, I got a whole spread, do you wanna see?"

"I would love to see the fruits of your labor, sweetheart."

You grabbed your phone from the island and stood up. Flipping the camera around, you walked around to the other side of the kitchen, "I wanted it to be mostly snack stuff, but I think Steph and Aryne will be here early, so I wanted actual food-food, but nothing too insane. We popped out with sliders- ham and cheese, and then I made a couple vegetarian ones. I also made a salad, nothing too insane, just Romane, crutons, cheese, and a vinnagrette that I made, and some chicken on the side that I chopped up."

"Oo bougie."

"I try, thank you. Next, we got a little grazing board thing. Most of this side is all white wine pairings and this side is red wine pairings, because I'm a good host who cares about her guests."

"Is that a dig?"

"Just a little. We got shrimp with cocktail sauce, and this is the spinach dip my mom used to make all the time."

"How long did it take you to prep the shrimp?" You turned the camera around to face you again.

"So long, you know I'm picky about them."

The door in Auston's room opened, "hey man, you ready to go?"

"Yeah, give me one second," He sighed, "alright, sweetheart, I gotta go. I'll talk to you after the game?"

"Go win a series for me."

"I'll try, let me know how your food goes over."

"I will, I love you."

"I love you more."

"That's impossible."

-💍

I'm clearing out the notes app. Can y'all tell? This one's short and sweet, though

#auston matthews #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews imagine #toronto maple leafs #NHL

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ringanon · 11 months

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I’m so happy you’re here 😭😭😭

I can't believe I let you talk me into this, dude

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ringanon · 11 months

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DIRECTORY/INFO STATION

Spaces I Exist:

My humans! The loves of my life!

@harlowhockeystick

@lukeevangelista

@angelelliee

Who I Write For:

Andrei Svechnikov (Carolina Hurricanes)

Auston Matthews (Toronto Maple Leafs)

Cole Caufield (Montreal Canadiens)

Dougie Hamilton (New Jersey Devils)

Erik Johnson (Buffalo Sabres)

Freddie Anderson (Carolina Hurricanes)

Jeremy Swayman (Boston Bruins)

Kasperi Kapanen (St. Louis Blues)

John Marino (New Jersey Devils)

Leon Draisaitl (Edmonton Oilers)

Luca Fantilli (University of Michigan, NCAA)

Matthew Tkachuk (Florida Panthers)

Nathan Mackinnon (Colorado Avalanche)

Nick Blankenberg (Columbus Blue Jackets)

Pedro Pascal

Quinn Hughes (Vancouver Canucks)

Sidney Crosby (Pittsburgh Penguins)

Tyson Jost (Buffalo Sabres)

Thomas Bordeleau (San Jose Sharks)

William Nylander (Toronto Maple Leafs)

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ringanon · 11 months

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Date Night | Tyson Jost

Pairing: TJ17 x fem!PotteryTeacher!reader

Warning(s): none (this is so damn cute)

Word Count: 2974

Summary: Part 2 to this blurb, cute dates, adorable humans

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Well, at least he wasn't late.

You also didn't expect him to be almost 20 minutes early

Luckily, you had your makeup done and were half dressed when he knocked on the door, "Give me a minute!"

You partially ran to the front door. Tyson was smiling on the other side, holding a bouquet of roses, "Hi," he took a moment, "oh my god, I'm so sorry-"

"No, Tyson, it's okay, you had no idea." You stepped to the side to let him into your apartment, "I'm almost done, I promise, most guys who pick me up for dates are always late."

he shook his head, nodding his head towards the hallway, a gentle okay to go finish getting ready. You came back out 10 minutes later in a black dress, it was your favorite. You walked back out to the living room and saw Tyson still standing in the foyer, "Tyson, you could have sat down."

"I know, but I didn't wanna-" he turned around to face you, "wow, you look- you look amazing."

"Thank you, I really appreciate it." you walked up and met him in the foyer, moving your earring and putting it in a good place.

He handed you the roses in his hand, "I bought these for you, I didn't know your favorite ones, so I figured these were the best bet."

"Tyson Jost, you're the sweetest," You thanked him again, "I'm going to go put these in water, I will be in 2 seconds."

A few minutes later, he was following you out the door, shutting the door behind him. He walked ahead of you down the stairs, opened the front door of your building and let you hold his arm to walk you to your car. You chatted the whole way down, he talked about his family back home, you talked about yours. There was a pleasant conversation about living in Buffalo on the stroll through the parking lot. Tyson took an extra long stride in front of you while you dropped your hand from his arm. Tyson grabbed the door handle of his car and opened up the passenger side door for you. you smiled up at him and kissed his cheek, "thank you, darling."

you saw his cheeks flush a deep shade of red and mumble out a response. You couldn't make out exactly what it was, but you figured it was some variation of 'no problem' or 'you're welcome.'

You giggled as you watched him take a brisk jog around the front of the car and slip into the driver's side. The drive to the restaurant was mostly you asking him where you were going and him refusing to tell you, "It's a surprise."

"Oh come on, Tyson!" you laughed, "not even a hint?"

"Tage recommended it, and said it was his and his wife's favorite place."

"Oh good! Which means this is either going to be the most expensive Italian restaurant in Buffalo or we're going to McDonald's."

"Hey, don't knock McDonald's' ' He lifted up his hand and pointed a finger at you, dropping it back on the center console immediately after.

"Oh no way! Professional Athlete Tyson Jost is a McDonald's fan?" You turned your body towards him and clapped your hand on the center console over his. Your mouth was agape, eyes wide.

"Yes! I enjoy a good drunk Big Mac, don't tell me you don't?"

"I'm indifferent about it." You crossed your arms over your chest, sitting back in your seat, waiting impatiently for his response.

"Okay, next date is going to be McDonald's." he tightened his hand around the steering wheel.

"You're already planning our next date? You don't even know how this one is going!" You laughed, looking over at him, admiring the way the moonlight poured in to the car, how the headlights from passing cars lit up his face, extenuating his jawline and the million-dollar-smile plastered across his face, "I could eat like a pig, I could chew with my mouth open, I could be rude to the wait-staff. You don't know any of this! At this point, I have to assume you've already rented a UHaul to move me into your place-"

"Hey, that actually isn't a bad idea, grab my phone." He smiled even bigger now. His eyes were still glued on the road, but you saw his hand creeping over the center console out of the corner of your eye.

In the midst of the laughing fit you both had, your hand found his again, this time,wrapping your hand around his fingers. His thumb, maybe unconsciously, rubbed soft circles across yours. Both of you noticed, neither of you were willing to move.

When you pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, the place was packed. It was one of the nicest, and most expensive, places in Buffalo, "Tyson-"

"I don't wanna hear it." He said, opening his door and stepping out. You sat in awe until Tyson opened your door, offering you a hand, "it's okay, it's not gonna be that bad, I promise."

You let him help you out of the car, didn't say a word about the way you caught him staring at you when you stepped out, and certainly didn't say anything about the hand on your back guiding you to the door. He held open the door for you, you took a step in front of him, "no kiss this time?"

"maybe next time." you laughed, turning back around to look at him. The smile on his face told you he WAS actually just joking, even if the tinge in the bottom of your gut told you otherwise.

The crowd in the foyer was a little alarming and incredibly overwhelming. Luckily, Tyson ended up having a reservation. There was something about him using his last name as the name for it, with a hand clasped tightly around you that felt oddly domestic. The walk to the table felt like a lifetime. Tyson was right behind you, and laughed a little when you opened your hand behind you and waved it at him. He took his hand in yours, "I'm right here, you're okay."

His voice was soft and reassuring. He pulled out a chair for you, let you sit down, and sat across the table from you.

Dinner went so smoothly, you spent the entire night anxious. It felt almost too good to be true; something was bound to happen. The conversation never faltered; there was something so easy about being around Tyson. You couldn't tell if it was that his first impression of you was being covered in clay or that there was some weird dynamic around you two that preceded tonight. Either way, it felt like you had an endless amount of things to talk about, like you knew his family personally, like he was best friends with your brother, and knew your hometown like the back of his hand. You laughed over a bottle of wine and the best pasta you've ever had in your life. When dessert was eaten, and the bill was paid, after a slight disagreement about who would pay, you both walked out of the restaurant.

When Tyson opened the passenger side door for you, you smiled. Leaning over, you grabbed his face in your hands and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "Good redemption arch."

You smiled up at him and laughed, "thank you! I figured you would chirp at me for it again if I didn't."

You saw his shoulders rise and fall, a breathy laugh released from his nose, as he shut the door. After he was situated in the driver's seat, he put his hand on the steering wheel and paused, "I know, realistically, the next step is to drop you off at your house, but I really don't want this to end."

"Just because you drop me back off at my place doesn't mean you have to leave immediately after." Tyson outweighed his options next to you. He could drop you off and leave immediately after and save himself from undeniably falling in love with you, or he could stay awhile, maybe watch a movie over a glass of wine or whiskey, continue on with the conversation, and maybe kiss you at the end of the night before he leaves.

"You bring up good points, but I'm not sold." He turned to face you, resting his back against the door of the car.

You copied his actions, looking at him, "Well, if you stay, we could watch a movie, I just bought a really good bottle of wine that I think you'll like, you get to brag about how you're a professional hockey player and I get to brag about how I'm actually good at making pots."

He chose to ignore the subtle dig, "I like the way you think."

Tyson slipped the seatbelt over his shoulder and drove out of the parking lot. There was a comfortable silence on the way back to your apartment; his hand sat on the center console, tapping his fingers on the leather to the beat of the song playing softly on the radio. You were hyper-aware of the hand placement, and also of how nice his hands were. There were an endless amount of possibilities to chirp him for giving you hints that he wanted you to hold his hand. You wanted to put your hand on top of his and let him curl his fingers around yours, however, you were fearful for the way your boss and his teammates would take the news of your date. You weren't sure who all he had told, and you knew you didn't want to tell anyone from your social circles until well after the Sabres' pots were out of the kiln.

By the time you had made it back to your apartment building, you had rested on the fact that you didn't want to take tonight too far. Not like you were going to anyway, but there was something in the back of your mind that wanted to make out with him on your couch.

The walk back up to your apartment was full of a pleasant conversation (and maybe a little arguing) over what movie to watch when you got up there. Horror movies were not a good first-date movie, rom-coms felt like too much, and comedies felt too cheesy. Ultimately you decided to just bite the bullet and give Tyson the choice, "I would be fine with just sitting on your couch and talking to you, we don't have to watch a movie."

You blushed as you unlocked your apartment, "that works perfectly fine, too."

The clock on the wall read 8:17, it was earlier than you thought it was going to be, but you liked the prospect of having more time with Tyson.

When the door opened and both of you had taken a step inside, you were overwhelmed with the idea of this becoming a routine. It felt wrong to be thinking of living with him this early on, but you couldn't shake the idea from your mind.

You take a step into the door of your apartment, motioning to the little table by the door for Tyson to drop the keys to your apartment and the rest of his things. Your shoes come off almost immediately after. Your hand braces the wall for stability to slide your heels off, you ignore the hand on your back, "oh my god I feel human again."

Tyson laughs and lets you lead him into the kitchen, "so what is this wine that you talk highly of?"

He found a place at the kitchen island, sitting on one of the bar stools.

"I have a Merlot here that I bought a few weeks ago, hoping that I'd have a couple friends over for a girls night or something, but I never got the chance to open it. You grab the bottle and set it on the counter in front of him, "what do you think?"

"I think the idea of drinking wine with you on the couch that I'm building in my head is hot as fuck."

You laugh, "I hope I'm fully clothed in this image."

"You are, I'll have you know. That's a third date kinda thing."

"Okay, so the second date is us moving in together and the third date is us having sex on the couch? What's our fourth date?"

"The courthouse, obviously-" The laugh you let out is disgusting. If it were anyone else sitting at the kitchen island, you would have blushed and apologized for the swamp-witch cackle that just left your mouth. Lucky for you, it's just Tyson.

Just Tyson. The thought plagues your mind as you open the bottle of wine. Especially when he offers to do it for you. Just Tyson has treated you with nothing but respect the entire night. Just Tyson has been kind, sweet, almost dotting since the moment you made eye contact with him. Just Tyson is burning holes into the back of your skull, and you can't say you're made about it. You think about Just Tyson as you grab two glasses out of the cabinet above your head. Once the glasses are poured and you're heading to the couch in the living room, you think that maybe you were overthinking the whole situation. Maybe Tyson was right; you'd created the worst possible scenario in your head about your boss and his teammates, and never thought that maybe everything would be okay.

As you prop your legs on Tyson's thigh, taking a sip of your wine and sitting against the arm of the chair, you can't help but take the opportunity to chirp at him, "Is this the idea you had in mind? Since I was totally fully clothed in the picture in your head?"

He laughed, leaning his head against the back of the couch and letting his hand fall to rest on your leg, "Yeah, something like this. 'cept I was calling you all kinds of pretty names and trying to resist the urge to kiss you."

The conversation comes easy, even though both of you are stone cold sober. It would have been almost unfathomable that you can talk to someone for this long without a glass or two of wine in your system. Before you have time to comprehend the words coming out of your mouth, the conversation has switched from the teammates you know and the pots he has seen you work on to his family back home in Canada, and all of the embarrassing events that plagued your childhoods, "your family sounds wonderful, Tyson."

He has become so lost in the comfortability of being around you, he spits out, "They'd love you."

You can tell he didn't think before he spoke by the way his face turns a deep shade of red and the apologies spew from his lips, "Tyson, it's okay, I sure hope they will."

By 10:30, half the bottle of wine is gone, and the 'image' he had been playing out in his head is slowly starting to come to life, "did you want another glass, sweetheart?"

You ignored it on the surface, but your stomach was exploding, "maybe just a little."

He stands up from the couch, taking your glass off the coffee table, "for sure, give me one second, my love."

The cute names and casual domesticity of the whole situation has you pressing your legs together.

He gets a text message a little after 11:15.

"Oh fuck it's Tage."

"Is everything okay?" You sit up, hoping that no one is hurt, and that no one is mad.

"Yeah. Yeah, I just told him I'd be back around 11 and he wanted to make sure you weren't harvesting my kidneys or something."

"Did he say that exactly?"

"No, but it was implied."

"If you need to go home, you're allowed to. I won't be offended or anything if you have other stuff to attend to. You guys are back in the studio Sunday, anyways. It's not like we have a chance to ghost eachother after this."

"Yeah, I should probably get going," both of you stood up off the couch, "I had a lot of fun tonight, Y/N, more than I ever thought I would."

You take a few steps to the front door, watching him put on his shoes and grab his suit jacket, "I would love to do this again at some point or another."

You look up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time all night. You have a chance to take in the details of his face and admire the color of his eyes, "I would like that, yeah."

"This might be an insane thing to ask, but can I kiss you right now?

You smile, "I would be a little sad if you didn't."

Tyson takes a step towards you, taking your hip in one hand and your face in the other. Your hands find the collar of his shirt, smoothing it out before looking up at him. He leans down and kisses you. You hate to admit it, but you can't ignore the fireworks in your chest and the little flutters against your stomach. It doesn't last for too long, but you're disoriented when you pull away. You're fuzzy in the head and a little dizzy, "I'll see you Sunday, Y/N."

"I'll see you Sunday" Tyson ignores the fact that you whispered your response. He bids you another adieu as he closes the door. You try not to squeal with excitement as you take off your makeup and go to bed. You hope and pray to God that you can keep your cool tomorrow around Tyson, knowing the way you felt.

-💍

Does this make me a cool Tumblr writer now?

#Tyson Jost #Tyson Jost x reader #buffalo sabres #NHL #tyson jost imagine

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ringanon · 11 months

Note

Part 2: coming soon 👀

You know how NHL teams will send their players to do random shit, basically just to embarrassing them for laughs?

The Buffalo Sabres learning how to use pottery wheels.

"Y/N, can you take that 4pm class?"

"The one who asked if they could film?" You turn to your boss, Steve, who nods his head, "how many?"

"5, I think, beginner class."

"Thats fine, I'll take 'em, let me finish up this project."

10 minutes later, as you're taking the intricate vase off the wheel, a man walks in, "hi sir, how are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

"I'm doing great, thank you! I'm going to take a gamble and say you're the representative from my 4pm beginner class?"

"Yes, ma'am, we're filming for the Buffalo Sabres. It should already be paid for."

"Alright, give me one second I'll get you checked in," you set the vase down on the front counter, wiping your hands off on a rag hanging on a drawer handle. You pull up the class times, "What's your name, honey?"

"It should be under Scott Balzer" (he's the videographer for the team, per nhl.com)

"Gotcha. Ah, is this- yes, there's 5 people plus crew?" He nods, "awesome, so we're gonna be in the first room on the left hand side, just to give you guys more privacy and so you're not privy to all of the hot gossip that happens around this place. I'm gonna go set you up, you can start moving all of your stuff in."

He thanks you again before turning around and disappearing out of the door. You wrap the vase and set it down with the rest of your Works in Progresses. You can see them moving camera equipment and people in and out of the room while you gather tools and water buckets.

There's 5 men standing in a huddle off to the side, who take silent directions from you when you set up their stations.

At 4pm on the dot, you sit down for class, scootching your way around the crowded room, "I'm going to be honest with you, I never know how to start these. We'll get there at some point. My name is Y/N L/N, I've been here for about 3 years. I recently graduated college with an education degree, which I'm learning now I should not have put on my resume," it pulls a hearty chuckle from the men in front of you, "Now, Mrs. Future Teacher does at least 10 of these a week. Either way, welcome to the studio. So, generally, I like to start these and just guage how much each of you know, has anyone here done anything with clay before, whether on a wheel or just kinda a little ball on the table in your highschool ceramics class?"

All of them shook their heads, "awesome, So we have 2 kinds of wheels in this studio, you're all sitting in front of an electric wheel. If you've ever operated a sewing machine before, it's powered by a pedal near your right foot. You can move the pedal over if you're more comfortable with your left foot, you can do that while I'm talking.

"We also have kick wheels here in studio, they're the manual wheels, it's all one giant rotating system, and you move the wheel by pushing off the bottom with your foot. The little ledge-slash-desk part of your wheel has all of the tools and stuff that you saw me putsing with earlier. From left to right, and you can rearrange these to your comfortability, there's a towel, you can lay this over your lap to avoid anything splashing onto you, this little medieval torture device is a wire cutter, it doesn't mean anything to you right now, but you'll use this when you're done with your creation to separate it from the board without screwing anything up. That little plastic box has some tools that you can use to shape your creations as you build it, to avoid doing a lot in the refining process later on. The most important thing, arguably, is that black bucket of water. If you feel around in there, there's gonna be a sponge floatin' somewhere near the top. This thing will be your best friend over the next hour. Most of your refining will come from ol' SpongeBob here as you're building.

"There's roughly 7 stages that clay goes through, you only need to be concerned with 3.

Fresh or Plastic clay is the block sitting on your wheel. It's the most workable form of clay, and is mostly what you build from to start.

From there, clay will go to either one of 2 ways. When you add water to fresh clay, it becomes Slip, which is pretty much what you'll be working with. You're going to add enough water to the clay, it'll turn to roughly-slip to make it easier to work with and move around where you need it to go. From there it'll dry out back into fresh clay and then into a leather hard stage. Some people divide this stage into 2, damp leather hard and firm leather hard, but we're just gonna smash 'em together for the sake of today's class. Any questions? I know it's a lot."

One of them raises their hand, "yes, my love?"

"Do you have anything in particular that we're making today?"

"Not really, if I'm being honest, we're going to try and use this as just getting a feel for the clay. The easiest to make are bowls, but you can make anything you think you can handle."

A different one raises his hand, you nod in his direction, "any advice for us?"

"99% of this art is failing. You will inevitably make something you don't like or that isn't structurally sound. You need to try again, don't let the clay get the better of you." There's a long pause while you look around the room, "before we begin, I'm going to ask all of your names, like I won't have to ask you again in 5 minutes."

They introduce themselves as Tage, Dylan, Tyson, Owen, and Jeff.

"Remember those when I inevitably have to ask you when I forget. Are we ready to start pulling pots?" There's a general agreement in the room, "Alright, so you're gonna take the block of clay off your wheel, and just get a feel for the pedal. Press it little bits at a time, so you have a basic understanding of what's going on after you throw it."

You let them play around with the wheels, teaching them that they have to keep the center of their chest in the center of their pots, like spotting pirouettes. You teach them that there's a disk on top the wheel, so its easier to move the pot and clean the wheel afterwards, "So you're gonna take your sponge out of your waterbucket, and try to get most of the water out of it. You want a thin layer of water on your wheel when you throw, just enough to force cohesion with the water in the clay so they stick together. Start from the center and pull out."

You end up having to help Tyson and Owen. You're standing on the opposite end of Tysons wheel, "slowly press the pedal. Don't try and rush, take your time, you have more of it than you think you do." You press your sponge to his wheel, watching the black disk darken, "there we go, and now you're ready to add clay."

He chuckles, "oh no, that's so scary."

"Its not that bad, I promise. Good anger management tool."

The clay ends up centered on the wheel, but not without some difficulty. You can feel eyes burning into you when you help Jeff who seems to be having some difficulty with the hand placement. You offer Tage words of encouragement while he tries, "the water isn't going to hurt you, darling."

It clicks a few seconds later, dipping his hand in the bucket of water. You look in Tysons direction, who quickly looks back down upon the realization of your eyes, you nod at Tage and Jeff who seem to be picking the task up quickly, "you guys are naturals."

Teaching them how to flatten the top was easy, "take two fingers, preferably your index and middle fingers, and slip them slowly into the center, try to keep it together when it makes a weird sound."

A 'that's what she said' joke was mumbled, much to the distaste of one of the producers.

"Y/N I'm having trouble, how did you do that?" You look up to meet Tysons eyes.

"You're going to need more water than you think you do." He dips his fingers into the bucket of water, you watch him use his left hand as a guide for the fingers on his right hand to open up the inside of the pot. Normally, it wouldn't bother you, but you find yourself staring at his hands longer than you should, "make sure you leave enough room at the bottom, don't go the whole way down."

Pulling the pots outward was met with more questions, more confusion, and a ton more one-on-one help, some jokes about recreating that one scene from Ghost, "wouldn't I be infront of you, then?"

Tyson giggles, "I guess it would defeat the purpose of my hands on top of yours-"

"If I'm the one who knows what I'm doing? pretty much." You try not to spend too much time helping Tyson, trying to evenly spread out your abilities and niches, not because he makes you uncomfortable, but to try and cover up the fact that you flush a little everytime you meet his eyes, how you lose it slightly everytime he says your name, how you smile everytime you call him the cute little pet name you call everyone that walks through the door because his guard is falling everytime "my love" slips from your lips. You try to avoid the fact that he tenses a little everytime the clay doesn't move correctly, sending the veins in his arms to the surface, how you can see the crease in his forearm, how focused is on making it good, on impressing you. You're so caught up in the moment, you forget there's more people than just the 6 of you.

You try not to spend too much time with Tyson, but there's no way he needs this much help, "there you go, just like that"

Your voice is soft and encouraging, and Tyson has never appreciated the towel draped over his lap until that moment. He knows it's wrong, he knows he shouldn't be day dreaming about you. He knows he shouldn't want to kiss you this bad, just to grab your waist and pull you towards his chest, press his lips against yours and kiss you softly, letting you chase his lips when he pulls away. He just wants to call you pretty, open doors for you, and guide you through crowds with a hand on the curve of your back.

Class finishes up before he can grow the set of balls he needs to ask for your phone number. He assumes he'd have to show his face here on his own time, until you ask the group when they're coming back to refine their pots.

Scott sets up the date, and he's immediately counting down the days, hours, hell, minutes until he sees you again.

Four days later, he finds himself back within the walls of the quaint pottery studio. He found you laughing with another girl, a song he's never heard of (country, maybe?) playing through the speaker sitting on the counter above your heads. You're elbow deep in a vase larger than anything he's ever seen, hands and arms covered in clay, your hair pulled back in a delicate clip, "Sades, can you grab that? They're for my 3pm beginner refine."

Sades nods her head, standing up from her seat across from you and checking in the group, "You're about 15 minutes early, so you can take a seat anywhere," she disappears into the office and Tyson finds himself occupying the seat infront of your wheel a few minutes later.

You look up from your pot, meeting his curious eyes, "hi, my love, how are you?"

"I'm doing better now, how are you?"

"I'm good, why better now?"

"Because I'm in the same room as you again."

"Smooth, Jost, very smooth."

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, your eyes revert back to the vase you're tending to, pulling and maneuvering the top rim outward. He takes a glance around the room, realizing that everyone is focused on something else, no one is paying any mind to you two. His eyes find you again, he's enamored by the focus you have, the delicate curves of the vase, the potential you're sitting infront of. You know he's burning holes into your soul, you flash your eyes upwards, double checking that he's watching you, "Are you okay?"

"No-yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I just enjoy watching you work."

"Do you enjoy watching me work, or just watching me?"

"Maybe a little bit of both. I enjoy watching pretty girls do stuff they enjoy." You find yourself blushing, blood rushing to your face so fast you can't deny it.

"You know, you were so meek and quiet and awkward 4 days ago, what changed." You pull your hand out of the pot, standing up to wash the clay off in a sink right over his shoulder.

"I've had 4 days to daydream about you, and I realized I never asked for your phone number."

"I'm unfortunately compromised," you motion towards your arms immersed by the water, leaning slightly forward into the sink, "Give me your phone."

You wipe your hands off, and gently grab his phone out of his hand, typing in your phone number, and handing it back to him, "and now you're one step closer."

It's casual conversation as you carve details in the outside of the vase until a room opens up. Before he knows it, the conversation is long-since over, and he's being ushered into the same room he was in 4 days ago. You've taken your same spot at the front of the room, they file in the same seats as last time.

Refining goes smoother, you spend a little bit of time retelling them about the tools, what they're going for, and how this step works. There aren't too many mistakes, everyone seems to be too nervous to take more than a sliver off at a time. Soon, you're asking them to come back in 2 days to glaze them.

Tyson finds you on the way out, "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing right now, why?"

"Let me take you on a date tonight."

"Tyson, I don't know. I'm still technically your superior in a sense until-"

"Then we don't make this serious until after. Just let me take you out, I'll buy you flowers, open your door for you, give you an opportunity to wear a pretty dress, and let me treat you like a princess. One night, and then we let it go until after you're not teaching me how to make pots."

You chuckle, "we can work with that, I'll text you my address."

"I'll pick you up around 5?"

"Thats perfect."

-💍

One of these days I'll write a part 2 to this. Today is not one of these days

I FUCMING LOVE THIS

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