directors cut

the morning light filtering through joseph’s curtains is soft and gray, the kind of winter light that makes you want to burrow deeper into the blankets and never surface. you’re half-aware of movement in the room, the quiet rustle of fabric and the gentle click of a drawer closing, but it’s the dip of the mattress that fully pulls you from sleep. when you blink your eyes open, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, already in his leafs practice hoodie, the blue athletic fabric hanging loose on his broad frame, his hair still damp from the shower and curling at the nape of his neck.

“hey,” he whispers, turning when he senses you awake, his voice barely above a breath. “didn’t mean to wake you, baby.”

you shift, pushing hair out of your face, and the sheets pool around your waist. the room smells like him—like clean soap and the faint, cold scent of the ice that never quite leaves his skin, even after showering. “what time is it?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep.

“early,” he says, reaching out with one of those massive hands to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers trail down your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw with that gentleness that makes your chest ache. “i’ve got to head to the rink. go back to sleep.”

you nod, still groggy, and start to push yourself up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. your clothes are somewhere on the floor, your bag by the door, and your brain is slowly assembling the thought that you should probably go home, shower in your own place, not overstay your welcome in his space—

a hand closes around your wrist, not tight, just enough to stop you. “where are you going?” joseph asks, and there’s confusion in his voice, soft and concerned.

“home,” you say, rubbing your eyes. “i didn’t want to just… stay here while you’re gone. i should—”

“no,” he says, and the word is gentle but firm. he tugs you back toward the pillows with the slightest pressure, his big hand easily guiding you, those goalie fingers wrapping all the way around your wrist with room to spare. “get back in bed, sweetheart.”

“but—”

“get back in bed,” he repeats, and this time he’s smiling, that shy, sweet smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. he stands up, all six-foot-three of him towering over you, but there’s nothing intimidating about it. he’s just joseph, your joseph, looking at you like you’re the only thing he wants to look at before he has to leave. “i want you here when i get back. okay? i want to come home and find you right here in my bed.”

your heart does something complicated and warm in your chest. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he says softly, and then he’s leaning down, both hands framing your face, his palms covering your cheeks completely, thumbs stroking your temples. he presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there, his breath warm against your skin. “i want to walk through that door after practice and see you all sleepy and cozy in my sheets. can you do that for me? just… stay? sleep in. use my shower. eat the cereal in the cabinet. be here.”

you nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat, and he rewards you with another kiss, this one on the bridge of your nose, then the tip of it, then each eyelid as you close them, soft as butterfly wings. his hands slide down to cup your shoulders, those massive palms kneading gently, working out tension you didn’t know you were holding.

“you’re so good to me,” he murmurs against your hair, and then he’s pressing you back against the pillows, his hands moving to tuck the blankets around you with meticulous care, pulling them up to your chin, smoothing them over your chest. he finds your hand under the covers and brings it to his mouth, pressing kisses to each knuckle, his lips warm and soft. “my good girl. staying in my bed where you belong.”

he doesn’t let go of your hand, even as he’s clearly running late, his keys in his pocket. he sits back down on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle you, and brings your hand to rest against his chest, right over his heart. you can feel it beating steady and strong under his hoodie.

“i’ll be back by two,” he says, leaning down to kiss your lips, chaste and sweet, then again, deeper but still soft, still unhurried. he pulls back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes warm and devoted. “and when i get back, i’m gonna make you pancakes, okay? and we can build that lego set you wanted to start. or i can play piano for you. whatever you want. but i need you to be here. i need to know you’re in my space, safe and warm, while i’m gone. it makes practice better. knowing you’re here.”

“okay,” you whisper, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him down for one more kiss. “i’ll be here. promise.”

he exhales like you’ve given him the world, and then he’s kissing you again anyways, a flurry of them now, unable to stop—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your chin, your lips, your jaw, your throat where your pulse flutters. his big hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, holding you like something precious and fragile despite the size and strength of him.

“you’re the best thing,” he breathes against your collarbone, pressing one last kiss there, right above the neckline of your shirt. he pulls back, his thumb tracing your lower lip one final time. “sleep more. you’re tired. and if you get cold, my hoodies are in the second drawer. the gray one’s soft. wear that.”

“okay,” you say, already sinking back into the pillows, surrounded by his scent, his warmth still imprinted on the sheets.

he stands up, finally, and at the door, he pauses, looking back at you with such open affection it takes your breath away. “be here when i get back,” he says again.

“i will,” you promise, your voice small and sleepy.

he smiles, bright and beautiful, and blows you a kiss, his big hand cupping around his mouth like a child, and then he’s gone, the door clicking shut with a soft sound that echoes in the quiet apartment.

all the players, their partners, their kids, even grandparents were involved. the party was in full swing. the music was loud; there was splashing around in the pool; drinks were flowing; someone was plating up a fresh batch of burgers by the grill.

even though you and seth had been together for almost six years, a little before he was brought on by the canes, but it still felt surreal that this was your life. to be sitting in a backyard, celebrating something that at one point was something he had been dreaming of since he was a kid.

you were brought back into the conversation you were having with karly and lauren, laughing at the joke that had been made and taking another sip of your drink.

you glanced across the yard, and tried to find seth. you easily found him. gone were the shirt and shorts he had been wearing when you arrived, he had changed into his swim trunks and was chasing a few kids around the pool, gently tossing them in and laughing when they bobbed back up to the surface.

"how did that happen?" you muttered, brows pulled together, but you couldn't help but smile.

lauren and karly both laughed, watching as seth jumped into the pool, splashing all the kids in the water, who tried their best to swim away from him. he popped back up, shaking his head around like a dog and getting droplets all around them.

"well, at least he'll sleep good tonight," lauren joked, nudging you softly. you smiled, shaking your head, watching him for another moment. "do you ever think about kids?"

you shook your head. "with seth, it's like raising a kid." you joked, making both women laugh. "i love him, but neither of us is ready for kids."

a few hours later, the kids seth had been playing with had been pulled out of the pool by their parents and were being fed. seth made his way over to you, practically sitting on your lap as you picked at your own plate of food.

he picked at a few pieces of fruit, listening in on the conversation that was going on around him. somehow, you switched positions, and he was sitting in your chair, and you were sitting in his lap, resting comfortably with your head on his shoulder and his arms around you.

karly leaned into jackson's side, her eyes on you and seth. she couldn't hear what was being said, but she could clearly see you in his lap, your eyes closed as he talked in your ear. she couldn't hear what was said, but his face was animated, and she could see you nodding your head every so often.

suddenly, his head whipped up as a new song started playing on the speaker. he looked down at you, and karly saw your eyes open, and a similar smile found its way onto your face. he helped you stand up, then followed, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the makeshift dance floor.

you giggled as he danced around you, moving his arms around. clearly, he was dancing around, just wanting to see you smile. you laughed, shaking your head before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in and jumping as the song continued.

keeho gets so excited the moment he finds out that the two of you will be special mcs for an event. it's clear that he's elated, smiling uncontrollably before you even walk into the room. he makes sure to take care of you throughout the event. tries to get the stylist to get you matching outfits as a joke—completely backfires when you're little bo peep and he's... the sheep. keeps his eyes on you when you're talking, if you look up and catch him the two of you can't help but break out into a fit of giggles. you both cringe over the lines, when he’s forced to read them out the two of you turn to face away from the camera (there's a 15 minute compilation of you guys on youtube). would often forget what he’s supposed to say—too busy paying attention to you, swaying from side to side as you speak with a huge smile on his face, impossible to miss. really conscious about himself, wants to do well for you. will find himself embarrassing himself on camera but the laugh that escapes you is so worth it. keeho would try to keep it professional in front of the camera but sometimes he finds himself being too obvious with how much he adores you (the fans catch it and can’t deny how sweet it is).

taeyang is a bit stiff. tries his best to ease the tension between the two of you. he greets you the moment you walk in, his hands clammy and smile shy as if he hasn't been rehearsing how to say hello for the last five days (the other members are sick of him). gossiping with him is so much fun, fans love the dynamic between the two of you. somehow got super comfortable with you in record time, nearly sending you flying whenever you're laughing together. lots of inside jokes where you have to physically shift your body away from the camera so you can fight the urge to laugh. loves the fact that he can get close to you, practically savoring every single moment. it’s difficult to hide his admiration for you on camera, always complimenting you, masking it with the fact that it was in the script—but really, he just likes seeing your reaction. nearly drops to his knees when you ask if the two of you could exchange numbers. gets you a bouquet after each recording.

jiung finds himself going above and beyond to make you feel comfortable before and after recording—cracking god awful jokes and embarrassing himself on camera so you can feel at ease. whenever you make a joke, he's always the first to laugh regardless of whether it was funny or not—the fact it came out of your mouth makes his laughter linger in the air for longer than it should. always taking care of you, getting snacks in the break room, and opening bottles of water while in deep conversation with you. fans are genuinely going crazy after seeing a video of him watching you talk to the camera with hearts in his eyes.  jiung is constantly reassuring you how great of an emcee you are, he's not having any of your negative self-talk, especially not in front of him. gets so happy when you give him a signed album from your group and secretly [not subtly] puts your photocard on the back of his phone, hugs it before going to bed now.

intak tries to be subtle, to keep his composure but can you really hide this 180cm giant puppy from looking at you with love sick eyes and dimpled smiles? he's a complete gentleman the entire time, guiding you next to him whenever he can. so so nervous, heart pounding against his chest, scared if you stand too close you'll hear it. always making sure to send you a thumbs up your way whenever you finish saying your lines. sometimes he musters up the courage to go off script and compliment you, his dimples on full display as he tries to comprehend his terrible actions but it’s totally worth it when he sees you smile once the compliment lands. hides behind his card half the time when you speak, can't help but smile to himself when he hears your voice. absolutely adores matching outfits, loves the selfies you take together even more. rehearsals for performances are his favourite though, where you can see him in his true element. always trying to lighten the mood and help you out if you make mistakes. practically combusts whenever you make some sort of physical contact with each other [high fives].

soul's face says it all. eyes glittering under the fluorescent lights. tries to be as interactive as possible, maintaining eye contact, tons of hand hearts. wants to do his best, always asking if he's pronouncing stuff right and if you could help him go over his lines :( starts emoting and making random psh! noises to mask his nervousness but it gets you giggling and smiling and he loves the way it looks on you. will do anything for you to look at him, wants to impress you so bad. refuses to let you down during mc performances, cannot hide his smile on camera when he makes eye contact with you. bumps his hip against yours when you're standing next to each other, thinks he’s being subtle but fans can’t help but coo over it.

jongseob thinks he's being slick, but the tips of his ears turn a nasty shade of red when you compliment his rapping skills. he's extra smiley around you, attempting to make small talk at every given moment. it's a bit awkward at first, but eventually the two of you get comfortable with each other. always finding ways you can both matching accessories without it being too obvious — points to the box of hair clips and helps you decorate the top of your head. staff and fans think you both look adorable. you can hear his heart skipping beats if you lean in close enough. helps you with outfit changes backstage, holding out a coat for you to slip your arms into — his teeth peeking out when you thank him ever so softly. once it's all over though, he gifts you a handmade bracelet and later falls off his bed when he sees you posted a selca with it.

extra notes pls don't forget to reblog & leave feedback!!

yourbff

Liked by yourusername, lando, and others

yourbff 🍸🤪

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user1 best nights evrr

lando 😉😉

user2 all this just to get swamped by exams next week 💔💔

↳ user3 ughhh don’t remind me 😖😖

yourusername never drag me to these ever again..

↳ yourbff luv u too 😚❤️

—☆

—☆

—☆

yourusername

Liked by yourbff, oscarpiastri, and others

yourusername i lied ..

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user4 never in my life did i think (name) would post smth like this

↳ yourusername me neither tbh but here we are

yourbff WHAT DID I SAYY

↳ yourusername yeah yeah do u want a cookie 😒

lando i recognize that room 🧐🧐

↳ oscarpiastri no u don’t

—☆

—☆

oscarpiastri

Liked by lando, yourusername, and others

oscarpiastri was an okay night

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lando nice girlfriend u got there

↳ oscarpiastri u could call it like that

user5 did not know u could smile

↳ user6 bros grinning ear to ear after he bagged a girl

yourusername nice seeing u back there

↳ oscarpiastri it’s more nicer when you’re here 🤷

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑

fraser was just about to hit the shower, his body still buzzing with adrenaline from the game, when he noticed mason hunched over his phone, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a scowl – a rather peculiar reaction after a well-deserved win. slightly alarmed, fraser made his way over and took a seat on the bench next to him.

“everything okay?” he asked, taking in mason’s distraught expression. 

“have you checked the group chat?” mason nodded toward his phone, referring to the chat you had with him and his girlfriend.

fraser shook his head. “no, why? has something happened?”

“it’s y/n,” mason said, handing him the phone.  

fraser felt his heart drop, the high from the win twisting into a sharp pull in his chest as he scanned the texts, hands clutching the device tightly. 

y/n is telling me to tell you not to freak out 

but she got hit by the puck 

in the head 

being the epitome of all smiles and no worries, fraser rarely showed anything other than his gentle, default smile, one of the features you instantly fell in love with. but in that moment, none of it remained, not with the last part of the message echoing in his mind.

in the head. 

fuck. 

he didn’t even think to grab his phone, just pressed call on mason’s instead, leg bouncing nervously. while he prided himself on being rational, coolheaded, and able to make decisions under pressure – qualities that had gotten him this far in his career – all that, however, did not apply when it came to you. not a bone in his body could be ‘rational’ when there was a chance you were hurt. fraser pushed himself to a standing position, then sank back onto the bench, running a hand through his hair and pulling at the ends, unsure of what to do with himself. he didn’t dwell on worst-case scenarios, but it didn’t stop him from feeling as if all the oxygen had been punched out of his chest.

once mason’s girlfriend answered and put you on the line, you reassured him that everything was fine, and that you hadn’t even needed stitches. the worry in his chest softened slightly, though he still rushed through his routine faster than usual just to get to you. even in the shower, his mind ran through small things, like what to grab at the grocery store to cheer you up, though he could already imagine you rolling your eyes, saying he was overreacting. for the next week, he stayed extra soft-spoken around you, careful with every noise, scared even a louder sound could make your headache worse. he insisted you stay home from the next games, just to make sure you were safe.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐑

connor was just about to leave the locker room, hair still damp, shirt slightly wrinkled, a grin spread across his face – he couldn’t hide how happy he was with the win. he couldn’t wait to get home, crash on the sofa, and retell the whole game to you, second by second, as if you hadn’t been there watching it yourself.

connor looked around, making sure all his things were packed, when his gaze landed on Frank.

“you good?” he nudged him. “you don’t really seem celebratory.”

frank shook his head, thumbs still moving over his phone. connor caught a glimpse of the contact photo, his girlfriend, and rolled his eyes, though internally, he wasn’t much better. he couldn’t wait to get to you either, drag you to the car, and get home.

“y/n got hit by a puck. she was bleeding, so they took her to the hospital,” frank said, locking his phone.

“that’s crazy,” connor muttered, opening and closing his bag one last time, ready to head out.

he didn’t notice the confused glances the others exchanged, baffled by his reaction.

“that’s crazy? that’s it?” frank asked.

connor shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “shit happens.”

“sure, but… it happened to your girlfriend.”

connor blinked. once. twice.

“what?”

“i told you. y/n got taken to the hospital. puck,” frank gestured to his head, “to the forehead.”

“yeah, but…” connor trailed off, looking around.

for a second, the locker room went completely silent, you could’ve heard a pin drop.

then it hit him.

he lunged for his phone, hands trembling as he tried to pull it from his jacket pocket. it slipped from his grip – once, twice, three times – it was a miracle the screen didn’t shatter. someone told him to sit down, but connor couldn’t hear a word.

he just needed to know you were okay.

when you finally picked up – right as he was about to drop everything and run to the hospital – his breath hitched.

“fuck, y/n, are you okay?”

hearing his voice, rushed and uneven, you were quick to reassure him. a couple of stitches, no concussion, nothing serious. you even tried to joke about it, brushing it off, slipping into that dry humor you knew he liked, but connor didn’t laugh.

“just sit tight,” he said, voice firm despite the panic underneath. “don’t move. i’m coming to get you.”

𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐘

sidney was so focused on what was happening on the ice that at first, he didn’t feel the gentle push on his shoulder. he only tore his eyes away from the game when geno shoved him with his elbow and nodded toward someone behind him.

sid turned his head to see one of the staff members standing there, eyes wide, chest rising and falling quickly. a daunting thought immediately took over his mind, the game fading into distant noise. a list of his loved ones flashed through his head, his brain working overtime to rule out the worst-case scenario.

“who?” was all he asked, pushing himself off the bench, his hand tightening around his stick as if to steady himself, suddenly unsure if his knees would hold.

“y/n,” they said. “i don’t know much, i just got a text that she’s at the hospital after getting hit by a puck.”

any other time, sid might have found it a little funny – something you’d both laugh about later. but knowing you, you wouldn’t go to the hospital unless it was absolutely necessary, which meant there was nothing funny about this.

“she also, uh…” the staff member rubbed the back of their neck awkwardly. “she said she’d burn all your navy suits if you even thought about leaving the game.”

sid had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, even as all he wanted was to be with you, to hold you and take the pain away. so, with no other choice, he sat back down on the bench, eyes forcing themselves to refocus on the ice.

the second period ended with them down by two, and Sidney missing three shots on goal. he could feel it in his gut , if you knew how distracted he was because of you, you’d absolutely tear into him and then give him the silent treatment for a month.

the second he got to the locker room, he dug his phone out of his bag, thumbs moving over the screen faster than ever. when you didn’t pick up, another wave of panic hit him – until he noticed the notification from your messages.

before you start acting like my mom, i’m okay.

seriously. i’ll need a couple of stitches, and it hurts like a bitch, but i’ll be fine.

and you better score a goal, or i’ll rearrange everything in the living room.

he locked his phone and let out a long breath. you were definitely downplaying it, but at least you sounded like yourself.

everything in him screamed to grab his things and go to you – to sit beside you, hold your hand through the stitches, more for his own peace of mind than yours. but he couldn’t leave his team, not now. instead, he made a quick mental list of takeout from your favorite places and mapped out the fastest route to the florist you always went to for your favorite flowers.

(he’s also very much part of the fraser minten soft-spoken club.)

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋

with his bag slung over his shoulder, will looked around the family room, trying to spot you among the WAGs and girlfriends that still lingered. at first, he’d waited outside the locker room, texting you that he was almost ready to leave – giving you time to say your goodbyes and make your way over to him.

but you didn’t come.

you didn’t text either.

so will made his way to the family room to see what was holding you back. but you were nowhere to be seen there, either. it didn’t set off any alarms just yet – he figured you were in the restroom, or maybe you’d gotten caught up talking to someone outside.

it wasn’t until cat approached him, brows furrowed, phone clutched tightly in her hand, that something in him shifted.

“no one told you what happened?” she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder, only making the unease settle deeper in his chest.

“about what?”

but he didn’t really need an answer to know it had something to do with you.

“obviously it was an accident, but y/n got hit by a puck at the end of the third period.” the older woman gently took hold of his arm and guided him to one of the sofas, sitting him down. “at first she seemed fine, but then she noticed blood, and she started to feel lightheaded.”

will felt it then, that same lightheadedness creeping in. getting hit, checked, roughed up – that was part of his everyday life. but not yours. you came here to have fun. to cheer them on. to hang out with your friends. not this. not getting hurt.

guilt hit him hard. even as he tried to push it away, a part of him still felt responsible, like somehow, this traced back to him, even if it wasn’t his puck that hit you.

“do you think i could, uh… call her?” will asked, clearly at a loss.

when you didn’t pick up, his expression tightened, something in his chest pulling painfully as his shoulders slumped, more than they did after even the worst losses.

“i’m sure she’s just being checked by the doctors and can’t answer right now, hun,” cat said softly, rubbing his back. “i’ll tell you what. we can go to the hospital together. i’ll come with you, keep you company, okay?”

will nodded quickly, grateful for the support. he wasn’t sure he could’ve gone alone.

𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍

when macklin got a text from cat that you were at the hospital, his brain short-circuited. he froze in place, phone in one hand, shoulder pads in the other. on the outside, mack looked like a statue. on the inside, he felt like a volcano – confusion, worry, disorientation, and fear bubbling in his chest.

“you okay, man?” will joked, shoving his shoulder as he passed by on his way to the showers. when he noticed the phone in his hand, his best friend whistled under his breath, clearly thinking it was a very different kind of message.

“she’s at the hospital,” mack said, his voice strained. “cat texted.”

that was enough to get the attention of the others in the locker room, all eyes shifting to the two of them.

“what happened?” william asked, stepping closer to glance over mack’s shoulder at the messages.

mack told them what cat had written, trying his best to keep his voice steady and calm, even though he could hear how badly he was failing. with every breath, it felt like his knees might give out beneath him, despite cat reassuring him that you were okay and that she’d only dragged you there to rule out a concussion.

your relationship wasn’t new – you’d been through your share of obstacles, whether it was hockey, your personal lives, or whatever people said online, but he’d never faced something like this. not you actually being hurt. not hospital-level hurt.

what… what was he supposed to do now?

on one hand, his stomach twisted with worry. on the other, he was scared of overreacting – of making it worse somehow.

so he just stood there, glancing around the room, silently searching for someone to tell him what to do.

“cat said she was fine, yeah?” tyler asked, pulling his shirt over his head. “then just go through your routine and head to the hospital after. there’s nothing you can do right now. and you know my wife, i’m sure y/n’s more than okay.”

“maybe you should sit down for a second,” will said, grabbing mack by the arm and guiding him to the bench. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

all mack could do was nod, his gaze fixed on his wallpaper – one of you and cali.

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌

william had just stepped out of the shower, meticulously scrunching his curls with a towel, thinking about crashing on the couch and watching a movie with you, when alexander came running over, phone pressed to his ear. william froze in the middle of the locker room, water dripping onto the floor, stomach sinking as he saw the older man’s scowl deepen.

“okay, let me put him on the phone,” alexander said, handing over the device.

when he heard felicia’s slightly out-of-breath voice, he knew something bad had happened.

“i swear it happened so quickly, and y/n was in such shock she didn’t even notice she got hit. but then she started bleeding, so we came to the hospital. i’m not really sure how bad it is, but she’ll definitely need stitches.”

as felicia spoke, william’s vision blurred at the edges as a heavy dizziness washed over him. his face drained of colour, leaving him pale and weak, stomach twisting uncomfortably as his chest tightened with fear. 

he thanked her and nearly threw the phone at alexander, hastily making his way to his spot in the locker room. 

“how could this have happened?” he breathed, trying to slip into his shirt, which wasn’t the easiest task considering he hadn’t bothered to fully dry off, the material stubbornly sticking to his skin. “fan i helvete,” he cursed, tugging at the sleeve. “who could have done something like that?” he muttered, though, realistically, that kind of thing happened at every game.

the other boys exchanged glances, not sure what to do. they could see why he was panicked, but he was so flustered and chaotic that it looked like he might hurt himself at any moment.

“i know, i’m going to call her.” before anyone could stop him, he already had your number dialed. one hand held the phone, the other tugging on his trousers, almost tripping in the process.

“wille?”

he let out a breath of relief at your voice. “hur mår du? har du huvudvärk? självklart gör det ont. såg du vem som gjorde det här? jag lovar att jag ska hitta honom och han ska komma ihåg mig.”

when brandon gets home, its late. like 3am. the calgary game had sucked the life out of him and he couldn't wait to get home and just relax.

you can hear the lock on the door twist and it pulls you out of your sleep. your drowsy, half awake as you stay snuggled under the blankets while listening to brandon shuffling into the apartment door. you can hear a thud, which is probably his suitcase.

you then hear the steps coming down the hallway and then the door slowly opening.

the dog was already up, tail wagging at the door as brandon entered the room. he leaned down, croaking out a quiet hello to the dog as he scratched his head before he shushed his best buddy.

when he moved past the dog, you finally turned over—eyes still closed—signaling to him that you were in fact awake so that he didn't feel too bad for making noise.

"hey," you croaked out.

"sorry," he mumbled in a low whisper. "i didn't want to wake you up."

you hummed kindly, "i was already half asleep."

he grunted as a response as he toed off his shoes before removing the rest of his clothes, leaving him in just his boxers as he climbed straight into the bed.

"you know i can't really fall asleep when i know you're coming home." you mumbled out as he scooted closer to you as you opened your arms for him to crawl right into.

you quickly found your home tucked into his side, head laying on his chest. "how was your flight?"

"it was fine. long but fine." he mumbled.

the dog, realizing that the excitement was over, jumped onto the bed, making his home at your feet.

"do you wanna talk about the game?" you asked quietly, drawing small circles on his bare skin.

he let out a long sigh, "not really. we have an optional practice in the morning. i'm gonna go."

"thats only like five hours of sleep, babe?" you question quickly.

his hand—which was gently holding your shoulder—squeezed. "i need to. i played like shit—"

"no you didn't." you interrupt quickly.

"yeah, i did. i need to get on the ice. at least clear my head a little." he responded quietly before placing a gentle kiss onto the top of your hair.

"do you want me to make breakfast before you go?" you practically yawned out as the late—or rather early—hour was getting to you.

"nah..." he trailed before yawning. "i can stop on the way back. bring us something home. that way you can sleep in." he added another kiss to the top of your head.

that was all that was said until you both finally dosed off.

when you woke up the next morning, he was gone, stealthily gone albeit. you looked at the clock on the nightstand, seeing a piece of paper, folded like a tent with your name on it.

when you opened it, it said:

good morning beautiful i walked the dog before i left get your beauty sleep and i'll bring back breakfast xoxo

you smile before putting the piece of paper down.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻:

@dancerbailey3 @fiendforwriting @wherethezoes-at @djojomama

want to join the taglist for brandon? join here!

user8 I don’t come to this page to see a man

user9 they’re adorable

user10 kinda the cutest couple OAT

user11 she litteraly has an Oscar but she’s dating a man who plays hockey, this is the representation Canada dreams of

user12 Yn you were so good in one battle after another

quinnhughes ❤️

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user13 I will #notice that her family never comments on posts with Quinn in them

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ynhollander added to their story!

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ynhollander

liked by mackinnon29 evgeni71malkin and 8,611,811 others

ynhollander Pittsburgh film festival I love you!!!

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user13 girl broke up with her boyfriend and moved to….Pittsburgh????

user14 serving

user15 love her so bad

michaelbjordan 🔥

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laila_edwards you’re the cooler Hollander

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teyanataylor I LOVE YOU!!!

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user16 she’s kind of the coolest person ever

user17 so obsessed

zendaya you’re glowing

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user18 she really broke up with Quinn and didn’t look back

ilyarozanov81 the coolest

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yunahollander my sweet girl!!!

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shanehollander24 you need to teach me how to dress

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leonardodicaprio 🌆🌆🌆

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user19 yn’s insta comments kinda the hottest place to be for celebrities im ngl

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ynhollander

📍Canada

liked by evgeni71malkin shanehollander24 and 10,611,511 others

ynhollander moments from this summer

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user20 WHO IS THAT

user21 Yn saw Twitter speculating that she’s dating Sidney Crosby and said “oh, let me confirm that for you”

user22 SIDNEY CROSBYYYYY

ilyarozanov81 😎

user23 my dream date….cute

user24 oh to be an actress model model actress dating Sidney Crosby and having Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander as your brothers

user25 the concept of Sidney Crosby spending his summer with Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander

user26 who remembers the time Ilya fought Sid

user27 and then they started playing for Canada together so everything’s fine

user28 so glad Yn escaped the curse of dating an American

shanehollander24 ☀️☀️☀️

lando 🙌

user29 lando what are you doing here 😭

evgeni71malkin what is this “soft launch”? I have photos of you making out with him

ynhollander Geno.

user30 Yn never replies to comments this is so funny

yunahollander my VOGUE cover girl!!!!!!!

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user31 Sidney Crosby log in your beautiful gf is soft launching you but you don’t have Instagram to post a really vague comment neither confirming nor denying

krisletang 🐧🐧🐧

sabrinacarpenter you’re the hottest

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ynhollander

📍Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

🎵 bloodonmyhands - Tate McRae

liked by ilyarozanov81 shanehollander24 and 16,872,987 others

ynhollander bounced back and found another (and he hates you)

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user32 that soft launch really went out the door

user33 the concept of Sidney Crosby talking shit about Quinn Hughes

ilyarozanov81 I also hate him

shanehollander24 me too 🙋‍♂️

user34 I love this

yunahollander my favorite couple 🫶

shanehollander24 ?

user35 QUINN HUGHES FIGHT BACK WHERES YOUR ANGER

user36 the mostly cropped pic of Sid omg I’m melting

user37 just the cutest couple ever

evgeni71malkin showed him this post and he wants me to comment “my beautiful girl” do not make me communicate for him ever again this has disgusted me

user38 IM DYINGGGGG

user39 Sidney’s never ending commitment to being a digital nomad will never not make me giggle

user40 how quickly the Hollander-Rozanov’s accepted Sidney actually warms my heart

user41 mind you they NEVER liked Quinn this much

user42 the concept of Yn using a song by her ex boyfriends brothers Canadian girlfriend to shade her ex boyfriend and posting her new Canadian boyfriend….there’s levels to this

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haydenpike I like him! 🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦

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ilyarozanov81

🎵 Free Bird - Lynyrd Skynyrd

liked by ynhollander yunahollander and 21,345,911 others

ilyarozanov81 we always invite the women

tagged: shanehollander24, ynhollander, yunahollander, pittsburghpenguins, laila_edwards, carolineharvey, jackiepike, svetlanavetrova, roselandry

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user43 free bird? Ilya hello??? 😭😭😭

user44 so obsessed with this post

user45 this team America shade!!!!!

haydenpike I am in this post and am not tagged hello

user46 the concept of a family dinner where Caroline Harvey and rose Landry are at the same table

user47 Ilya tagging the penguins on the picture of Sid and Yn because he can’t tag Sid, he rly dgaf

user48 Ilya “I love women” Rozanov

jackiepike ❤️

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yunahollander 🤗🤗🤗

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haydenpike hello?

user49 will never not giggle at Ilya’s beef with Hayden

ynhollander me and Sid say “❤️”

ilyarozanov81 tell Sid I say “🙌”

user50 “Sid” UGHHHH I’m SOFT 🥹

shanehollander24 this is not the caption we agreed on

ilyarozanov81 🤷‍♂️

user51 genuinely so obsessed with this family and how nice and kind they all are to eachother. This is the kind of family everyone deserves.

user52 Caroline and Laila getting invited to family dinners don’t talk to me I’m crying

user53 the concept of rose Landry eating dinner with Sidney Crosby

user54 they’re the sweetest people ever and I’m so glad they all have each other ❤️❤️❤️

you lean back in your chair with a groan. "i made a tiny mistake earlier in the experiment and didn't realise until the end."

he winces in sympathy. "so do you have to redo it?"

you hesitate, then glance up at him. "no. i...adjusted the data."

there's a beat. "adjusted..."

"it was one tiny thing," you defended, sitting up straighter. "redoing the whole experiment would've taken hours. this was me being time efficient!"

"his eyebrows lift, clearly unimpressed but trying not to laugh. "so you faked your data."

"it's theoretically consistent," you insist.

that breaks him -- he laughs, shaking his head as he leans against your desk. "i don't think that's how science is meant to work."

"listen," you say, turning your laptop toward you again, "sometimes survival comes first."

he stays there anyway, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him beside you, watching in a quiet steady way. after a moment, he nudges your shoulder.

"for what it's worth," he says, softer now, "what you're doing is still very impressive."

you glance at him, smiling a little. "even the faking data part?"

"especially that," he replies, just a little amused.

somehow, with him there next to you, the report feels a little less impossible to get through.

WILL SMITH — TECH

you're halfway through debugging when you hear the familiar thud of a hockey bag hitting your apartment floor. you don't look up right away -- just one more line, one more fix, one more run -- and then the error finally disappears. only then do you lean back, stretching, eyes burning from staring at your screen.

"hey, genius," will says, dropping onto the couch behind you. there's a grin in his voice, easy and warm. "you look like one of those hackers in movies. you know, the ones who type for ten seconds and suddenly break into the government."

you chuckled slightly, spinning your chair slightly to face him. "it's not like that."

he leans forward anyway, resting his chin on your shoulder, eyes scanning your code like he can make himself understand it if he looks at it long enough. "okay, but why does it look like that?" he asks.

"it's python. it's a really easy language to pick up; nothing too bad."

"well that's not helping," he says immediately, squinting harder. "why are there so many brackets? and why are all the words different colours?"

"it's just syntax highlighting. it helps with reading everything better."

he sits back, shaking his head like he's just witnessed something deeply unsettling. "i read plays on the ice better than this," he mutters. "at least those make sense."

you laugh, finally closing your laptop for a break. he reachers for your hand without thinking, thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that feels grounding after hours of getting lost in logic and loops.

"you're insane, you know that?" he adds, softer now. "like, actually. i don't get how you just...do this."

"and i don't get how you skate to the other side of a rink at full speed without falling," you shoot back.

"okay, but that's different," he says, like it's obvious.

but the way he looks at you -- equal parts amused and impressed -- makes it feel like it isn't so different at all. just two completely different worlds, meeting somewhere in the middle, where he brings the noise and motion, and you bring the quiet focus, and somehow it fits.

FRASER MINTEN — ENGINEERING

your desk is chaos in the way only you understand -- oscilloscope traces frozen mid-measurement, simulation windows layered across your laptop, handwritten notes curling at the edges with arrows and corrections. it's all alive, all in progress. you barely notice the door open when fraser steps in, checking in on you.

the window is open beside you, cool air slipping in to carry away the sharp tang of solder. you're bent over a pcb, iron in hand, breath steady as you guide the tip to a tiny pad. it's delicate, precise work -- nothing like the pace of his world.

you barely register the soft footsteps as fraser makes his way into the room until a second later, when the air shifts -- thicker, warmer. you blink, glance up, and your stomach drops.

"wait- no, can you leave the window open?"

he pauses mid-step, already turning toward you, confusion flickering across his face before concern replaces it. "what- did i-?"

"i need the ventilation," you say quickly, setting the iron safely beside before you gesture toward the board. "the fumes from this."

he's at the window immediately, pushing it back open wider than it was before, like he's correcting a mistake he didn't realise he made. "sorry. i didn't know."

"no, it's okay," you say, softer now, the small worries from before already leaving.

he lingers there for a second, letting the fresh air settle back into the room, then glances over at your setup -- the layers of code, graphs, and notes scattered like a map only you can read. his gaze moves between the screen and the board, trying to piece it together slowly.

"you're doing all of this at once?"

you huff out a quiet laugh, picking the iron back up. "kind of have to."

he steps closer again, careful this time, like he's entering your space on your terms. there's something steady about the way he watches -- not overwhelmed, not dismissive, just trying to understand what you're doing.

"what does this do?" he asks, nodding toward your screen.

and you explain it to him, words coming easier than they usually do with anyone else, your work unfolding in real time while he listens -- window open, air clear, everything exactly how it needs to be.

CONNOR BEDARD — MATH

you're halfway through a proof when your phone buzzes, vibrating against a desk littered with scribbled symbols and half-erased integrals. you ignore it at first -- because if you lose the thread now, you'll have to rebuild the entire argument from scratch -- but it buzzes again, and then a third time. persistent.

when you finally glance over, it's connor.

he's sent a picture to you: his stick propped against his locker, laces undone. messages below it reading

won today you sill buried in your math problems?

you let out a quiet laugh, pressing your pen to your lips before replying.

always

you send back a photo of your notebook, the page crowded with letters and numbers, half a theorem sprawled across the page, and send it with a short message: help?

a minute later, his reply pops up.

i thought math was about numbers...those are all just letters is this even real math

you let out an actual laugh this time, shaking your head.

very real math. the letters are numbers...kind of?

almost immediately, he replies back.

"kind of" literally what is that supposed to mean

you can picture the slight tilt of his head as he reads it, a half-smirk he probably isn't aware he's making. there's always a mix of curiosity and challenge with him, like he's trying to understand how you think, and trying to comprehend how you're able to know what to do with all those numbers...and letters.

i guess it's just a different way of looking at it

there's a pause before his next reply.

hmm i guess that makes sense

you return to your work, but the problem doesn't feel as isolating now. somewhere between the symbols and structure, between his certainty on the ice and your slow unraveling of the problem in front of you, there's a shared rhythm between you two, both built on persistence, and both quietly pushing toward something that finally clicks.