HeirOfSlytherin1980

"It's so hard to leave - until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world." ~John Green; Paper Towns

[jewelcoatfish]

i just imagine the oldies at david’s mcgill hockey team is jealous as fuck like what do you MEAN his son and son in law are THE HOCKEY GUYS like the best ones. some of them tried to get their child to date a hockey player and didn’t even succeed but david hollander not only is the father of the best hockey player but also the father in law of the other best hockey player??? i swear he’s living the dream of some of his old teammates they hate to see a uni reunion coming

[sunnywithachanceofbi]

Heated Rivalry fic for @fandomtrumpshate, Shane/Ilya, Ilya & Alexei, Shane & Yuna & David; angst, hurt/comfort, whump; pseud: home_planet_hero_90

[chapter 5/7; 2854 words]

Read On AO3!

for @carpediemma!

part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here

David Hollander didn’t grow up expecting to be a husband or a father. In fact, he didn’t think much about the future, his parents always told him to live in the moment, experience life, stop stressing out about everything, David.

He spent years trying – to no avail – and somewhere between his fifth birthday and his first year of middle school, found the best place to do it. Sports.

Keeping a schedule became spiritual at times, his focus precise and exact when it came to hours spent on the field, time locked down on the ice. Team sports always felt like home to him, a group of friends that were built in, a support system that spoke the same language as him without the effort of small talk.

It consumed him, the breath of practice, the rigor of the game – he wore t-shirts branded with his team, his numbers embroidered on the back or the lapel, made a habit of checking statistics and news like he’d be quizzed on it every night.

Until he met Yuna.

Yuna was everything he didn’t know he was missing. She owned every room she walked into, demanded respect and didn’t stop there. If love was an art, Yuna was an editor, adjusting and deepening each word, each brush stroke, so that the piece landed whole.

David was timid in so many ways, soft-spoken, eager to please, gentle in the way he inhabited space. Yuna was the opposite, she was loud and unapologetic, brilliant and beautiful and so patient with him, it ached.

He got up the courage to request a date and her eyebrows lifted like she was surprised she’d been asked. The blush that crept up her cheeks when she smiled made her eyes shimmer just for him, and from that moment forward he pledged to earn that look every possible day she’d let him.

The balance they shared always felt right and still feels right today. Bringing Shane home, eyes bright with wonder as he blinked into the world, was natural, easy. He carried her legacy forward like he carried David’s name, and all the best parts of Yuna glowed in the heart of their son.

Powerful, but kind. Eager, but patient. Intense, but polite.

Sure, pieces of David peeked through – his worries, his rigidity in so many ways, his dedication to something he loves. But the consistency, the exponential growth, the rapid pace he learned. That was every bit of Yuna.

It’s close to midnight when his phone rings, and David’s heart skips a beat when the face fills the screen. It’s Shane, beaming on the lake, towel wrapped around his neck where Yuna leans in close. He’s resisting, just barely, a product of his age, and the small gap between them where the dipping sun peeks through haloes them in ethereal light. Every time David sees it, he smiles.

This time, though, something feels off. If Shane’s calling him this late instead of Yuna, it’s because he’s hurting, because he needs something Yuna will respond to with certainty and precision and if Shane’s anxiety is high, it might not be what he needs right away.

David slips out into the living room, trying not to disturb his sleeping wife, trying to manage whatever’s going on first before he sends her into a frenzy. Especially if Shane’s already well on his way.

“Shane?” David says, voice light.

“D-Dad?”

David’s heart breaks at the sound, the word cracks, a choked cry getting caught in Shane’s throat before the rest spills out.

“Yeah, buddy, what’s going on? Are you okay?” David’s already eyeing the bedroom door again, counting down the clock until he needs back-up, hoping it’s a panic attack over something like his play schedule or the cost of a last-minute flight.

He knows Shane. Knows the hurt in his voice and that it can’t possibly be something as trivial as that, but he can hold out hope until he hears more. He clings to it like a lifeline as shaky breaths shudder through the speaker.

“I think…someone needs help an-and I don’t know what to do, they’re…I can’t get to them, not fast anyway,” Shane’s rambling now. David hears the distant sound of heavy-footed steps, pacing. “Wh…I think I need your help, but I-I don’t know how to, where to start. I just need you to not…you can’t be mad.”

“Shane,” David takes a deep breath, hoping it will slow Shane’s spiral. It doesn’t seem to help, but he keeps it up regardless. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. Are you safe? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, no I’m not hurt, I mean…I’m not fine, I guess, but–”

“Okay, good,” David pauses, takes another breath. “Are you still at the hotel? Is Hayden with you?”

David knows he’s on a roadie, isn’t supposed to be back for another day, and he’s met Hayden enough times to know the guy would help with whatever has Shane this worked up. Unless something happened to Hayden…

“I’m leaving now. I have to…Hayden’s fine, I talked to him, but I have to help…” David can hear it now, the pounding footsteps are in an echoing stairwell, the sound of nylon sliding against Shane’s sweatshirt, duffel likely slung over his shoulder in a hurry.

“Okay, can you take a second, tell me what’s going on?” David asks calmly, glancing back at the bedroom. He’s closer to heading back in and gently nudging Yuna awake, worried now about Shane being so wrapped up in something he has to leave his team. Leave a hotel room in the middle of the night.

Shane pauses, taking a shaky breath, and David can picture him – scrubbing a hand down his face, eyes darting between the room he left behind and the exit, mind already stacked with to-dos and checklists, alarms blaring between breaths.

“O-Okay, I…” Shane takes another breath, and David’s heart is threatening to flutter free from his ribcage, shake itself out of the threat of fear and tumble headfirst into dread. “I don’t hate Ilya Rozanov.”

The confession startles David – shocks him into silence. Out of everything he was expecting to hear, this didn’t even come close to the top 100.

Ilya Rozanov and Shane have had a rivalry since his rookie season, on and off the ice, the pair at the top of their game, their teams enemies since long before they joined. It was innate, now, hating the guy.

Yuna used his name like an insult, told him to stop acting like Rozanov when he got too snippy cooking dinner, teased Shane when he would complain about his season openers, call him Rozanov for being afraid of a little competition.

David didn’t care much for the kid, but it was less about hockey and more about his attitude. Always seen around town with a girl on his arm, throwing insults at other players in interviews, a cocky attitude baked into his brand.

The confession from Shane nearly pulls laughter from David’s chest, the surprise of the statement equally as shocking as the nature of it.

“Okay…” he says, patient as ever. If Shane called him, it’s because he’s vulnerable, emotional – too emotional, Shane would say, before David reminded him it was pretty normal for people to experience a whole range of emotions. “That’s…that’s fine.”

Shane huffs and David doesn’t know what to do with that. He thought he had a handle on everything about Shane, thought he knew him like the back of his hand, but this…this isn’t anything he’s dealt with before.

“Like…that’s just…it’s just for media,” Shane continues. “We get along.”

“I’m sure he’s a good guy, Shane,” David says gently, knowing if Shane trusts him he must be. Shane doesn’t hand out loyalty like candy, he keeps it close to his heart, like a secret, one that only a select few are in on. “You felt the need to call me at,” he glances at his phone to check the time, mouth dropping in surprise, “11:48 p.m. to tell me that you get along with Ilya Rozanov?”

Shane groans and David hears the footsteps pick up speed again, hitting cement with purpose before metal slams into metal and the sound of a heavy door creaking open screeches through the phone.

“No,” Shane huffs. “I didn’t call you to tell you that. I called because he’s in trouble.”

“Shane, I’m sure if he’s in trouble his team or his coach can–”

Shane cuts him off. “He’s in Russia.”

That’s right – the announcers over Shane’s game had mentioned Ilya would be out for a couple of games after a death in the family. His father, David thinks.

The thought makes his heart ache in an entirely different way, the knowledge of their friendship now burrowing deeper into David’s chest and softening Rozanov, just a little.

Still, nobody deserves to lose a parent, let alone someone barely into adulthood and living across the world without any family nearby. Another thought softens the ache, one of Shane checking in on him, making sure he has support.

That’s their son, through and through. Always looking out for everybody else, eager to help where he can.

“Okay. He’s in Russia. What’s going on? What makes you think he’s in trouble?”

Gather all the facts, line up everything in order, make sense of it, bring it to Yuna. He’s done this with so many things, connected dots where they lose shape at times, soften the sharp pain of sorrow that comes with being a parent sometimes.

“I was on the phone with him,” Shane starts, his breathing uneven, picking up steadily. David keeps himself calm, tries to bleed it into the phone and pass it to Shane over the airwaves. “And we were just talking, I was asking him about his niece. He has a niece, she seems really sweet, he buys her anything she wants Dad, it’s a little ridiculous–”

“Shane,” David nudges him back to the point, unable to help the small smile that worms into his cheeks.

“Right, we-we were on the phone and he said he was on a walk. Hi-His dad just died and the funeral was today,” Shane’s voice cracks again, and David wishes more than anything he was there so he could offer a hug, wrap his arms around Shane, always his son first – his baby.

“I heard,” David says softly. “I’m sorry to hear.”

“Right, yeah,” Shane clears his throat, tumbles ahead. “And it didn’t sound like it went well – he was…his family isn’t great. But he was fine, I could tell his mood was a little better. Out of nowhere the phone – it sounded like it got thrown. An-and I heard–”

He falters again and David swears he can hear his heart thundering behind his ribs in the dim glow of the kitchen where he’s now hunched over the counter, still eyeing the bedroom door like Yuna’s waiting for him on the other side.

“I don’t know, Dad, they were speaking Russian, but it sounded like he was getting the shit kicked out of him,” Shane continues, failing to hide his emotion now, the spark of anger and fear seeping into every word. “I think he got knocked out or something. I heard a car drive away and then it was just…he didn’t sound good. A-And I lost the connection.”

“Okay,” David says, oozing confidence he doesn’t feel. This is the big secret of adulthood, he’s found – everyone’s just as scared shitless as the next guy, all clueless on how to get by without breaking down at every turn. “Do you know anyone that’s there with him?”

“No, no – that was my first thought too. I…I tried to call Cliff Marleau and he said another friend might be with him but we don’t have her number,” David can hear Shane hopping into a car and asking for a ride to the airport, hears the tapping of fingers to phone while Shane navigates across his screen. “I messaged her on Instagram but she hasn’t replied.”

“Okay. I’m gonna get your mom,” David says, knowing he needs his wife’s level head and command of a room now more than ever. If anyone can get to a kid in the middle of Russia without anything more than a name and phone number, it’s his wife. “She can help figure this out.”

“O-Okay,” Shane says, taking another shaky breath. “I’m gonna book a flight.”

“To Russia? Shane, I think that’s a little–”

“Dad, you didn’t hear him,” Shane says, desperate now.

Even though Shane started the call with the news he and Rozanov didn’t hate one another, David’s still trying to stumble his way ahead and catch up with that fact. Beyond that, though, Shane’s worry is more than it would be for just any hockey player, just any friend.

David doesn’t land on the thought too long before re-focusing his attention on his son, feet moving without thought, back toward the bedroom and his sleeping wife.

“Okay, Shane, just take a breath. I’m gonna get your mom,” David says as he opens the bedroom door, careful but not quiet.

Yuna’s tucked in just so, face mask slipped over her eyes, mouth slack with sleep. She looks so peaceful, David hates to disturb it, especially with something that hurts so much to hear. Still, this is Shane. She needs to know what’s going on and David knows more than anyone how much she can help.

He reaches out, tapping the mute button on the phone before latching onto her shoulder and shaking her gently.

Mumbling groggily, she reaches for the mask and squints up at him as he turns on the lamp. The room soaks in butter yellow, the peaceful calm so at odds with what’s on the other side of the phone – of the country – it makes his head spin.

“David?” She rasps. “What’s going on?”

He gestures to the phone as she starts to sit up. “Shane’s on the phone. Two things right away. Number one, he’s okay. And two, he doesn’t hate Ilya Rozanov.”

Yuna’s brows tilt down in confusion, her mouth opens, then shuts as she rubs the last dregs of sleep from her eyes.

“Okay,” she says, straightening up and bringing her feet to the floor, settling beside David. “What’s going on, David?”

“They were on the phone earlier and Shane thinks he heard him get attacked. He lost connection to the call and he’s on his way to the airport now. Hayden is aware, Cliff Marleau is aware.”

Give the facts. Keep it concise. The late hour and the panic bleeding from Shane require it.

Yuna tugs off the sleep mask completely, snaps her attention to his phone and presses the mute key to talk to Shane.

“Shane? It’s Mom,” she says with the confidence of a mother – of Shane Hollander, Hockey Star’s mother.

“Mom,” Shane exhales, “You need to help me. Did Dad tell you–”

“Okay, listen Shane, Dad told me what’s going on and I need you to tell me a couple of things,” she says as she takes the phone and heads for the closet. She’s already packing her own bag, tossing clothes and electronics onto the bed. David, always at the ready, grabs the bag and starts to tuck everything inside, getting his own and doing the same. He’s already drafting an e-mail to Shane’s coach, working on an explanation as Yuna inquires about Ilya’s health, whether or not Shane could hear him breathing, if he has family around, friends.

David doesn’t hear every detail, doesn’t need to, instead focusing on the home, on what he knows. Yuna brings a battle axe to every unknown, latches tools to her belt to be prepared for anything at any given moment.

David’s always in her corner, waiting with ol’ reliable, keeping everything steady while she trudges ahead. He can worry about what they know, she can focus on Shane.

And Ilya, he supposes.

By the time he’s gone through the bathroom and the kitchen, left the last portable charger plugged in to build up the most power possible, Yuna’s dressed like she’s prepared for a press conference. She’s latching on her earrings, grabbing her shoes and bag without question.

David collects everything else and follows her out, knows anything they missed he can outsource, can find elsewhere. They’ve got each other, their passports and wallets, phones and keys, and between that and Shane, it’s everything David could ever think of needing.

Yuna connects the phone to Bluetooth as soon as they hop in the car and Shane’s voice echoes in the speakers.

“And if he’s…wait, hold on, someone’s calling me,” Shane says suddenly as his breathing grows distant. “I-It’s Ilya, I’m gonna answer.”

He hangs up before they can respond and they sit in quiet purgatory, waiting for word from Shane, too scared to spook the silence with a taunt about luck.

The night around them breathes with an edge of fear, quiet but not calm, and David can only hope whatever’s on the end of that call won’t destroy his son completely.

follow along on ao3

[ellisonwongparty]

the way rr/tierney introduce ilya is so funny to me because when you first see him you're just like jeez this guy is such an asshole why is he like this. and then seconds later it's just like um it's because he has a 1) dead mom 2) who killed herself 3) an abusive dad 4) with alzheimers 5) a brother 6) who verbally abuses him on the phone 7) when ilya refuses to wire him 50 bands all at once 8) all while he spends new years eve all alone in the grossest motel you've ever seen 9) and he's bisexual.

and you're just like. well shit. that will do it i guess.

[argillaforma]

shane in the beginning of their official relationship being unsure of how to do casual intimacy because he’s used to only get it if it’s during sex or with the intent of turning into sex but now they’re boyfriends and he doesn’t always know how to navigate that so sometimes he will just 🧍🏻‍♂️ in the middle of the room because he wants a smooch but he’s unsure of how to progress and he feels weird asking for it before eventually realizing that ilya is more than happy to indulge

[gaynehollander]

Shane set out to learn Russian because he didn't want the burden of communicating in their second language to always fall on Ilya, by default. He also wanted to learn more about Ilya's culture through the language, he wanted to hear his husband make jokes in his mother tongue, to get to know the side of him that comes out entirely unimpeded when he doesn't have to filter himself through his second language. He expected to mostly use it at home, perhaps especially when Ilya was feeling overwhelmed. However, once Shane actually learns Russian to the point that he's fully conversational, they mostly use it to shit talk people in public.

[snowsmoked]

Even after they come out, Shane is a private person. So is Ilya. And, look, Shane is very happy that the centaurs are so accepting. He really, really has to remind himself how relieved and happy he is about it. He also remembers that this is how locker rooms are. As captain of the metros, the amount of times he had to tell off a player for showing pictures of their girlfriend's breasts or ass to other players was uncomfortably high.

So he really should have expected the question, "so who is, you know, the man?"

"Excuse me?"

"Dude, you can't ask that," a very progressive Young advised. "You gotta ask who's the top. Not the man."

Shane exhaled slowly. He loves his team he loves his team he loves his team.

"That is private," Shane said firmly. "And inappropriate in the workplace."

He was, of course, largely ignored. And while neither him nor Ilya really enjoyed their team, their friends, the internet, and homophobic players guessing their bedroom arraignments, Shane was surprised that nearly everyone got it wrong.

The general consensus what that Shane was the man. His going out outfit was usually jeans and a t-shirt, Ilya's was tight leather pants and a leopard print with four buttons undone. When they drank, Shane got a beer and Ilya either got shots or the sweetest cocktail they had. Ilya was more flamboyant, Shane was more reserved. Ilya liked to bake, Shane liked to grill.

And yes, Shane was aware why all these seemingly innocuous personality traits accumulated to make Shane the man and Ilya the girl. Still, it didn't stop it being generally annoying, offensive, and uncomfortable. Nonetheless, Shane liked finding the silver lining in that this was something just for them to know.

Ilya finds it more amusing then Shane. And, like most things, tries to use it to his advantage.

"Shaaaane, carry my bag," Ilya held out his hockey bag.

"No."

"I can't believe you treat your girlfriend like this."

~*~

"Is it a happy bouquet or an 'i'm sorry' one?" Holmsberg asked as he and the rookies peered over Young's phone. "Get the all roses one."

"That's the most expensive one!"

"Dude."

"Shane," Ilya whined, calling their attention to him. "Why don't you ever buy me flowers?"

"That's messed up, dude," LaPointe shook his head.

"I'll buy you roses, Roz." Wyatt grinned.

"You will not," Shane grumbled.

~*~

"Ah," Ilya winced as he lowered himself on the bench.

"You okay?" Shane asked him. He had taken a hard check into the boards early in the game and, despite reassuring Shane he was fine, he knew his hip was killing him.

"Fine," Ilya said predictability. "Just sore. Will be fine in a minute."

"Hey," Zane nudged Shane's shoulder. "Go easy on him on game days, okay? We need him."

"Go easy?" Shane's eyebrows drew together. "What do you - Oh! No, that isn't - he - I didn't -"

"It's fine, man. Whatever you two-"

"No!" Shane interrupted. "He's still sore off of Richard's check - Not - Ilya, stop laughing!"

~*~

"Doesn't it bother you?" Shane asks Ilya one day.

"What?"

"That everyone assumes you're, you know," Shane gestured, a cute little blush on his cheeks. "The girl."

"There is no girl," Ilya raises his eyebrows and palms Shane through his pants. "I would know."

"Asshole," Shane scoffs. "You know what I mean."

"I know," Ilya smiled. "But no. It does not bother me."

"Why not?"

"Because it's hot," Ilya lifted his hands, over Shane's chest and up to his face. "That people can't even imagine you like this."

Ilya dips to kiss his neck and Shane's eyes flutter shut.

"Makes no sense," Ilya continued, hands roaming down to Shane's ass. "To me, I know this immediately."

"F-fuck off, you did not."

"Oh, I did," Ilya gripped his chin, forcing Shane to look at him. "I see you... those beautiful freckles and I know how desperate you are for it. So obvious. Thought everyone was looking at this boy thinking how good he would look getting fucked. How well he would take it."

"Ilya..."

"Shh," Ilya patted his face. "But I think is better this way. That only I get to even imagine you like this. Only I get to have it."

"Only you," Shane agreed readily, hands flying to the zipper on Ilya's jeans.

"Only for me," Ilya agreed, letting Shane take down his pants and boxers. He pressed down on Shane's shoulders, the slightest pressure getting him to sink down, eyes already heavy. Ilya ran his hand through Shane's soft hair, watching the gold of his wedding ring catch the room's low light. "Only for me. Forever."

[depsidase]

[raccoonspew]

When #myshane is overstimulated, he takes off all of his clothes. He can’t stand all the fabrics rubbing against him. It started as a chubby toddler when he would get upset and run around the house (ass naked) while Yuna and David chased him around with pajamas. Shanebug be a big boy and let mommy put on this damn onesie an intensely exhausted Yuna would sigh.

As he grew up he obviously stopped doing it around others, but sometimes after a brutal day at school or a bad practice, in the comfort of his own room, Shane would crawl into clean sheets with nothing on and wait for sleep to take him.

He can and does persevere through the urge, of course, because Shane Hollander is an expert at perseverance.

But after he marries Ilya and starts to accept himself a little more…he has fewer issues with letting himself be comfortable.

Which is how Ilya finds his beautiful husband completely naked (except for glasses) sitting on their couch reading a book, a folded pile of clothing abandoned next to him. He filters through several reactions and settles on bewilderment. Shane looks up and smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t take all the textures right now.” He shrugged. “You don’t mind right?”

Ilya understands that this is not sexual, and is a big milestone for Shane’s self acceptance journey, so he is forced to ignore the naked elephant in the room and nod his head. He’s half-hard and so, so proud.

[themoonandmyman]

Thinking about Shane learning the Russian words for ‘my little bear’ because Ilya’s so large and imposing but so soft and his hair is so fluffy- but he also delights in knowing he can use it on Ilya to needle at him and sweetly annoy him. He can imagine Ilya’s faux-irritated brow crease, followed by wrestling Shane into the couch to prove he’s no little bear- he’s a grizzly bear who’s going to eat Shane for breakfast…

So he works to get the pronunciation down, and finally springs it on him one day when Ilya’s just come in from the lake, hair air dried and floofy and he’s all open limbs and soft edges.

The moment the words fill the space, Ilya goes silent, and tears start to fall. Shane panics, and closes the gap between them to hold his husband close with a crushing grip.

‘What’s wrong? Did I not do it right? Did I say something bad?’

Ilya stays quiet for a moment, trying to control the inevitable break in his voice when he speaks. When it comes out, it’s wet, and wounded, like blood seeping out the mouth of an injured animal.

‘No, no. It’s ok- my mama, she-’ another small sob. ‘She used to call me that. I have not heard it in a very long time.’

Shane knows he doesn’t need to reply, or to fill the following lull.

He just needs to stand there. Solid and unyielding.

Arms a vice around Ilya’s torso, large hands stroking down the damp skin of his back. Soothing kisses pressed like a comforting brand to his temple, his cheeks, his eyes. Urging the tears to flow because they need to. Loving his man exactly how he needs to be loved.

[depsidase]

[theconcealedweapon]

[penandinkprincess]

blessed with the divine vision that bb shane was a fucking STICKLER for equal application of rules when he was an itty bitty. he'll accept the rules just fine, but they will now be HOUSEHOLD rules.

and most of the time it's fine. shane's bedtime is 7:30 pm because he is so itty bitty, but yuna and david have always just gone to their room after that so bb just assumed they were also following The Time To Sleep rules.

which is all well and good until nana is visiting while staying with her sister, it's 7:40 pm, and she is just cooing and delighted at bb shane just repeating "night NIGHT" over and over from the doorway to the living room because she is not understanding that this is not him being cute and saying goodnight.

this is attempted enforcement of the rules because nana, it is time for NIGHT NIGHT and you are clearly NOT ready for night night, and to TOP IT ALL OFF!! YOU ARE KEEPING MAMA AND DADDY FROM NIGHT NIGHT. RULES!! BROKEN!! RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIS LITTLE BABY FACE. >:(

[junkdrawertales]

and he’s wearing Snoopy footie pajamas….babyyyyyy

[4e-hollanov]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[depsidase]

[v0mitwhores]

I love tumblring I hope we all get to do this forever

[tjisntnice]

[mutinsfromthemoon]

the intern is doing a funny montage video with a bunch of questions for the centaurs and they ask shane “what do you consider to be a perfect day?” and shane answers “any day i spend with ilya is a perfect day” and the intern’s like “but you spend every day with him” and shane just deadpans “yeah? it’s been perfect since i married him” and they ask “even when you guys lose?” and shane goes “if i lose, i still go home to ilya”. and then they ask the same question to ilya and he answers “a perfect day is when i spend every single hour with shane” and the intern says “shane answered the same way” and ilya’s like “really?” and the intern tells him “he said that every day has been perfect since you guys got married” and ilya gets a little emotional and asks softly “he said that?” and the intern nods and ilya just gets up and leaves to go find his husband because he needs to give him a big sloppy kiss immediately.