I’m never over Ilya, still dick deep in Shane trying to be all sweet, kissing on him, stroking his leg, fully thinkin they’re basking in post orgasm glow, and the absolutely bewildered “What???? Shut up???” he lets out after Shane complains about the bed being messy now
Shane honey never let them know your next move. They say zig you zag! Your situationship fucks you so good you come hands free, barely come down from the high before offering a mild complaint. That’s how you keep them addicted!!
no but seriously "gimme kiss" plus those big fat pursed lips is one of the sweetest parts of the whole show because their relationship has been characterised by lust from the beginning, it's what they started with and it's what they padded their feelings in before they were ready to let those feelings stand on their own, but in this moment there's not even a hint of lust, there's no ulterior motive to seduce, ilya just wants a moment of connection with shane — physically and emotionally — and he knows now that he doesn't have to do anything to get it. he can be relaxed and silly and he can just ask to receive it. gimme kiss! said in the most mischievous manner ever. and shane gives him kiss!!!!!!!!
in my heart ilya does get off to the dynamic of the "bad boy seduced the golden boy of hockey" thing, which does make it especially funny after they're married because like
ilya, spent the day helping david and yuna reorganize their home office and put new shelves in, dropped by with lunch for shane at a shoot because he KNEW he wasn't going to like anything on offer, just ordered anya new little snow boots for her little baby paws because she doesn't like the velcro on her existing set and his sweet baby princess deserves what she wants forever, refilled shane's water bottle for him with ice water before beginning tonight's seduction because shane likes both cuddles and cold water afterwards so this way he can have both: i am a devious and sexy evil seducer who has TEMPTED YOU into my devious and sexy evil clutches >:)
does make me think extremely chewy thoughts about how fucking complicated this has to be for ilya. like obviously things with his father are SO fucking complex and layered and there's so much pain there, but also what emotional potential of being the only person he consistently remembers. even ilya's older brother gets forgotten, but when he's distressed, ilya is the one he calls? he ALWAYS seems to know ilya?????
it adds to the guilt also that he's the only one who can calm his father down or at least handle him when he's like this and yet he's the one on a whole different continent, but also what a twisted wreck of feelings it has to be to be the only one their father consistently remembers. like there HAS to be love in there, doesn't there? if i'm the one he remembers when he forgets everything else? i'm at least THAT important to him? i have to be, don't i? even if everything else is gone, i'm still in there. that HAS to mean something, doesn't it?
but also what fucking guilt to know that alexei almost certainly feels resentment about this as confirmation that ilya is their father's favorite and always has been and always will be. and like from ilya's pov, it didn't save him AT ALL, but also how fucking complex to be the younger sibling and yet be the only one their father consistently remembers.
And yes I DO think that Shane was velcro baby with Yuna and I think she let it go on just a little too long. In my mind, Shane is a rainbow baby several times over and Yuna just...never quite gets past that with how permissive she is of him as a young child. So yes Yuna IS going to pick up Shane from daycare at ten-thirty AM on a Tuesday because the teacher called and said he was having a difficult time calming down after drop-off. And yes there is a stretch of six months or so when Shane is six and struggling with nightmares during which Yuna and David do not have sex one single time because Shane is in their bed like clockwork by nine PM every night. And yes Yuna continues picking Shane up and balancing him on her hip until she literally cannot do so anymore. And she cries, somewhere where nobody can see her, the first time Shane doesn't reach out to hold her hand in the grocery store anymore--and he's already too old to have been doing it for this long but fuck. Fuck. And from the day she brings him home from the hospital to the night before he moves out of her house permanently at age nineteen, if he is sleeping under her roof, and if she wakes up in the middle of the night, she cannot go back to sleep without cracking open the door of his bedroom and checking to make sure his chest is rising and falling.
Sometimes, occasionally, on random nights, she'll wake up and she won't know why and she has to call him to make sure it wasn't some kind of sign. And she knows it's probably bad and she knows it's probably not fair to his sleep schedule or to whatever personal life he may be trying to have but she just can't help it. And usually she only has to call once for him to pick up, voice bleary and sleep-deep, and he'll just say, "I'm fine, mom, go to sleep," because he knows her so well, her velcro baby.
And then once or twice it's two in the morning and it takes three calls for him to pick up and by the time he finally does she's pacing in the hallway in front of her and David's bedroom and the sound of his voice, slightly out of breath and strangely awake for this time of night, strikes her with icy relief.
"Mom," he sighs, "Sorry, I'm fine, I was just--I was, uh, asleep. And I didn't hear my phone."
"Oh, that's okay," Yuna says, even though she can tell he wasn't asleep and isn't sure why he's lying to her. She's been encouraging him to, like, live a little. Go out for more than just team bonding. Be a little fucking wild--be a twenty-something in one of the most interesting cities in the world. Surely he knows she wouldn't judge him.
And then she hears a rustle of sheets and a clearing of a throat that sort of very clearly didn't come from close enough to the phone for it to be Shane's throat it came from. And as soon as she hears it she knows that she shouldn't have, and that she needs to forget she did, and so she does.
"A-anyway, Mom, I gotta get back to sleep," Shane says. "We're on ice first thing in the morning and Coach isn't gonna go easy after that shitshow tonight, so..."
"Theriault always makes it personal about Boston," Yuna muses.
"Yeah, well, it's Boston. So, um. G'night and I love you and tell Dad that I'll see him on Thursday after his, uh, banquet thing."
"Will do. Love you too, sweetheart." There's a beat during which Shane should be hanging up the phone, but he doesn't, because he can probably tell that she has more she wants to say.
"Mom," he says, a little impatient, but he doesn't hang up. Sometimes, Yuna is glad that Shane is her only baby, because she genuinely doesn't know where she would fit twice as much love in her body.
"Just--are you...I mean..." She wants to ask are you happy, are you lonely, are you WITH someone right now and if you are please just tell me if they take care of you--
But, of course, she can't say any of that because Shane really, truly is not the baby in her arms or the child wrapped around her leg anymore, and she has to make her peace with that even if it means not knowing if he's okay.
"You know you can always talk to me, right?" she says finally.
And Shane just sighs, still a little impatient and frustrated, but his voice is gentle when he says, "Yeah, mom, I know."
Okay, but Shane getting kidnapped by a bunch of fanatical Boston fans. (In the fun, crack, let’s not think about the trauma of it all kind of way.)
Montreal and Boston are meeting in the playoffs and there’s a group of very drunk Boston fans discussing the upcoming series who reach the final conclusion: the only way they’re losing against Montreal is if Hollander is playing. Ergo, if Hollander is not playing, Boston is going to win for sure. Now what’s a loyal fan to do? Their part obviously! And especially Rozanov, who hates Hollander, will think this is funny. And they’re not going to hurt him, obviously. Like Hollander is the enemy, but he’s like a good guy, probably, for a Metro, so they’re just going to grab him before the game, and then the Metros will lose the first two games, and then they’re going to let him go and it’ll be fine. Because the first two games are in Boston, so they’re just going to stash him in Randy’s basement, and they’re going to wear cool masks, like those bank robbers in movies, maybe with presidents’ faces—that’s way too political, shut up, Tommy—and they’re even going to give him food and a bucket and stuff, and wouldn’t that be hilarious? And no one will ever know they helped their team win the Cup, but they will know, and maybe they will wink at Rozanov, and he’ll get it and then Rozanov—Ilya fucking Rozanov himself—will buy them a beer in his favorite bar.
Randy wakes up the next morning with a giant headache and a pounding coming from his back door and is like what the fuck, and then he opens the door to Tommy and Steve holding a guy between them who’s got a bag over his head and Randy thinks he must still be drunk because surely he's only dreaming that his friends actually went out and kidnapped Shane fucking Hollander.
AJ comes ambling over from where he crashed on Randy's couch and blinks at the situation in the backyard, scratches his belly and goes, “how did you even find him?” And Steve is like “that’s your fucking contribution??? Our friends committed a fucking crime, the Feds will be here in an hour with a fucking SWAT team and probably bring the Mounties too, and we’re gonna go to fucking jail in fucking Canada because kidnapping a national treasure is probably treason there and we're gonna get fucking extradited.” And Hollander is trying to tell them that he hasn’t seen their faces and if they’ll let him go, they’ll be fine and he'll pay whatever ransom they want, and Randy is yelling because these fuckers are too stupid to live, but Tommy and Steve are still going on and on about their hero Ilya fucking Rozanov being so grateful, and then Randy’s next door neighboor opens their back door and Randy pulls everyone into the house, and in the silence Hollander says, “you know if you just want to meet Rozanov, I have his number, I’m sure he’d come by.”
And that’s how Randy finds out they have Hollander’s phone but these goddamn idiots didn’t even fucking disable it, and so they all sit in Randy’s kitchen, and Tommy’s staring at a contact reading Lily and Hollander says, “it’s an inside joke,” somewhat panicked, but they do call the number and a dark voice with a Russian accent they all know very well answers, “Hollander, did you change your mind about no sex during playoffs rule? Is a little late before game, but I’m sure I can comfort you after losing tonight,” and the only one who says anything after that is Hollander, who mutters a fuck under the bag over his head which he’s still wearing because Tommy and Steve didn’t buy any goddamn masks. Randy can see that the other guys don’t get it because they’re either still too drunk (Tommy), too hungover (AJ) or just too fucking stupid (Steve). And look, Randy’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s bi and occasionally hooks up with a guy and he is suddenly aware that he’s having Ilya fucking Rozanov’s… something… kidnapped in his kitchen and if Rozanov is anything in real life like he is on the ice they’re dead men if they hurt a hair on Hollander’s head.
“What the fuck?” AJ’s scratching his head this time and Steve’s blinking like a confused mole rat, but Tommy’s maybe less drunk than Randy thought because he blurts out, “you’re fucking Hollander?”
There’s a beat, then Rozanov’s voice comes over the phone, an entire octave deeper. “Who is this?”
Panicked, Tommy slams the phone down. “What the fuck?”
“He’s going to kill us,” Randy says, seeing his life flash before his eyes. “He’s not going to thank us, he’s going to kill us because we kidnapped his boyfriend or whatever.”
“Boyfriend?” AJ repeats.
“Wait, you thought Rozanov would thank you for kidnapping me?” Hollander’s voice comes from under the bag and that’s officially too much for Tommy, who rips the bag off, takes Hollander by the shoulders, shakes him and shouts in his face, “you’re his fucking boyfriend?”
Hollander blinks against the sudden brightness. “What? No. No, I’m not—we’re not—look, I just—we—you can’t think he—we’re rivals, okay, and he loves winning, but he’s fair, like he wouldn’t want me kidnapped to win. That’s all, I swear.”
Hollander looks freaked the fuck out, but he’s also been kidnapped so Randy can’t be sure that this is gay panic, because kidnapping panic probably trumps gay panic, even for a closeted athlete.
“Someone tell me what fuck is going on!” Rozanov’s voice comes through the speaker and yeah, he sounds angry. Dropping gloves, beating out a couple of teeth, getting a game misconduct angry.
Tommy, Steve, and AJ all turn to Randy which is just un-fucking-fair. “Why are you looking at me? This was your hair-brained scheme!”
AJ takes a step back. “Whoa, hey, I was asleep on the couch.”
“It was your fucking idea,” Tommy says.
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” AJ yells. “I thought we were all joking around. I didn’t think you fucking morons would actually go out and kidnap Shane fucking Hollander!”
Shane fucking Hollander, who is in Randy’s kitchen, still watching them with apprehension. No one’s holding on to him and his hands are only tied with zip ties in front of his body. He’s not a fighter on the ice, but he is a two hundred pound hockey player and Randy thinks he could probably do some damage.
“Shut up!” Rozanov roars through the phone, and everybody falls silent.
“Someone put Hollander on the phone right fucking now!”
With shaking hands, Tommy takes the phone and holds it out to Hollander.
“Rozanov,” Hollander says, and his voice is entirely flat.
“Are you hurt?” Rozanov’s voice is clipped.
“No.”
There’s a slight pause. “How much do they want?”
“They haven’t said anything,” Hollander says. “I, um, get the feeling this is not about money though.”
“Then what do they want?”
Hollander looks at Randy.
“Nothing,” Randy hastily says. “We don’t want anything, okay, this is just a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding.” Rozanov’s voice is cold enough to freeze the blood in Randy’s veins. They’re all so fucking dead.
“A drunken prank that went very wrong,” Randy says. “We're really sorry, we meant no harm. Please, this is just—”
“Address,” Rozanov interrupts him.
Randy swallows and then tells Ilya fucking Rozanov where he lives.
“I will be there in twenty minutes. No one moves. If you hurt Hollander, you are dead. If you breathe a word about this to anyone, you are dead. If you post about this on social media… you understand.”
“Yes.”
“Good. You will also not hang up. Hollander, keep talking so I know you are okay.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know! Recite hockey stats or something. Fuck. Just keep talking.”
“Fuck.” Hollander looks up at Randy’s ceiling, then he starts talking. “So the Metros and the Raiders met for the playoffs for the first time….”
And then Randy and the morons he calls his friends get a pretty good history lesson on the Metros-Raiders rivalry.
Sixteen minutes later, Randy’s back door almost flies off its hinges as Ilya Rozanov storms into his house. Thankfully, no one ends up dead, even though Randy wishes he could kill Tommy and Steve with his bare hands.
(Boston loses the series in six and the Metros end up winning the Cup that year, and Randy thinks that they probably deserve that.)
unreasonably amused by the idea of passenger princess ilya on vacation with shane
obviously shane hired a travel agent to create The Optimum Vacation, but he also studied and approved everything and also has custody of all important documents just because it makes HIM feel better and in control
meanwhile ilya?? straight elevator music. where are they going? unclear. when's the flight? not his concern. how long are they staying? who's to say. where's his passport? his husband has both of theirs.
his job is look pretty and "he asked for no mayonnaise" and that is IT
Sorry to hijack your post OP, but I couldn't help be inspired by @ufckinpussygohomegohomeur45yrold tags about their travel mishaps while I was sitting in my doctor's waiting room.
Nicole is working international passport control today. She likes it. Contrary to some of her colleagues, she’s not bothered by some of the people’s broken English or French, she enjoys the challenge. Besides, Nicole is a bit of a language nut, and she’s learning Spanish, Korean and Swedish on the evil owl app. Just the basics, of course, but enough to light up people’s faces when they’re greeted in their native language.
Currently she’s getting a lot of people from the 594 from Thailand and the 475 from Windhoek. There are also a few European flights but those are from Spain and Greece so it’s mostly returning Canadian tourists.
She finishes with a Thai student coming back from visiting his family and looks up to her next customer.
She manages to get out a professional “next” even though the man approaching her booth is wildly attractive. Like could be a movie star attractive. He’s tall and even through the black hoodie he’s wearing against the airport’s overly chilled air she can tell he’s broad-shouldered and built. He’s got a wild mop of honey-colored curls, messy from a long flight but still attractive, and just gorgeous features.
“Hello, sir,” she greets him and if she’s a little bit friendlier than usual, well. Nicole is only human and she might be married but she’s not blind.
He looks up from where he’s been fiddling around with his phone.
“Oh, hi.” There’s a slight accent to his voice that sounds eastern European.
His hand goes to his pocket and Nicole is always a little annoyed at people who don’t have their passport ready—because people know they have to show their passport, so why not be prepared instead of holding up the line?—when she watches his eyes go wide and mutter a curse under his breath. He keeps patting down his pockets and now Nicole really gets annoyed because how does anyone lose their passport between going through security at their starting destination and getting to their final destination?
“So, this is very embarrassing,” he says with a slightly embarrassed smile that’s still charming, “and I am very sorry, but I think my husband has my passport.”
Nicole looks behind him but there’s no husband, just two young women standing next in line.
The guy makes a face. “Ah no, he is Canadian citizen, so he probably already is through customs.”
Well, things were really going too smoothly. Nicole tries hard not to roll her eyes because the man in front of her looks honestly chagrined.
“Okay,” Nicole says, going into problem solving mode. “If you can call him to come to the passport control exit, we can arrange for someone to bring your passport. I can’t let you through without it.”
He nods quickly. “Of course. I will call him.”
He puts his phone to his ear and even from where Nicole is sitting she can hear the automated voice announce that the person he is trying to call is not available.
“Blyat,” the guy says again. He adds a “fuck” for good measure. “Okay, maybe you can call for him on the announcement thingy?” The guy says. “His name is Shane.” He cringes a bit. “Hollander.”
Nicole stares at him.
Nicole isn’t really into hockey, but she is still Canadian and Shane Hollander is something like Canadian hockey Jesus. He brought the Cup back to Canada, to Montreal specifically, after a sixteen year drought, three, no four different times now, and his admittedly very pretty face is on every billboard. It was a whole thing when he left Montreal a year ago, after he famously got outed and then got married to his husband, Russian rival hockey player Roza-something.
Who must be the guy standing in front of her now.
Nicole can’t stop staring. Her friend Shannon got Ryan Gosling twice already, which is just unfair. Nicole’s never had someone actually famous come through her booth. Certainly not someone whose husband all of her cousins venerate like a saint.
“I know, I know,” Russian hockey player Roza-something says quickly, “Sounds insane but look.”
He does something on his phone, then holds it up to her. The Google search bar reads Shane Hollander husband and there are pictures of Shane Hollander with the guy currently standing in front of Nicole. Google informs her that his name is Ilya Rozanov.
“Okay, Mr. Rozanov,” Nicole starts, aiming for professional as if it’s completely normal to deal with a passport mix-up for the most famous couple in hockey, and doesn’t get further, because behind her there’s a really loud, “Holy shit Ilya Rozanov!”
Contrary to Nicole’s lukewarm interest in hockey, her colleague Dave is an absolute hockey fan. He has a Montreal Metros mug at his station.
Rozanov looks up. “Yes,” he says pleased. “That’s me.”
And then Dave is there, ignoring all regulations, as he squeezes into Nicole’s booth and says, “This is so unprofessional, but could I get a selfie?”
“Of course,” Rozanov says magnanimously, and then Dave leaves the station and actually walks up to Rozanov for a bro-hug selfie.
Nicole doesn’t have the heart to scold him, because Dave has been gloomy after his girlfriend broke up with him and this is the first time she’s seen him really smile in two weeks.
Dave’s very exuberant excitement and his anti-regulation behavior attracts everyone else’s attention, and then two guys from security come over and of course they also want a picture.
Nicole worries about the other people in the queue being annoyed at Rozanov holding up the line, but in a blatant violation of the no pictures rule at customs, everyone has their phones out and is taking pictures. She wonders if everyone just knows Rozanov or if they’re just taking pictures because he’s obviously famous. Or handsome, going by how the two young women are giggling.
“Okay, Dave, how about you sort Mr. Rozanov’s passport situation and I keep going here?” Nicole says after they’ve taken several pictures and Rozanov has recorded a message for Dave’s beer league.
“Oh, yeah yeah,” Dave says and waves Rozanov off to the side. He’s beaming like Christmas just came early.
They’re not entirely out of earshot, so while Nicole processes the two young women from Spain who are doing an exchange semester at McGill, she hears bits and pieces of the conversation between Rozanov and Dave.
At first it’s about the passport situation and tracking down Shane Hollander, then it changes to hockey.
“Man, his OT goal in game three against Colorado was sick! And you know, we were all kinda mad when he left the Metros at first, but like, we get it now, and we still love him, the front office really screwed him over.”
“Yes, Shane is second best hockey player, and yes, Metros management has shit for brains.”
Then the conversation turns to their vacation.
“This was on hike. I want to be lazy on vacation, but no, Shane says hiking is Canadian so if I want to become Canadian I need to hike on vacation.”
“That’s true,” Dave says earnestly.
“It is ridiculous. But view was nice.”
Nicole looks over once and apparently Rozanov is showing pictures. The group has so grown with two more security people having joined them.
“The food was so good, though I don’t think hotel calculates what two hockey players can eat from buffet.”
“Yeah, but it’s the off-season.”
“Shane still needs to work out, remember? Also was second honeymoon…”
The group’s laughter rings loudly through the arrivals hall.
Nicole quickly deals with a business woman who travels regularly from Thailand and has the process down to an incredibly efficient science.
Ilya Rozanov is now complaining, very lovingly, about his husband’s caution.
“So much sunscreen, Shane is obsessed!”
“Yeah, it’s because of the moles, right?”
Nicole looks up just in time to see Rozanov’s betrayed expression. “Not you too!”
“Skin cancer prevention is important!” Dave says.
“You Canadians and your prevention. The team doctor checks me out all the time.”
“Yeah, but is he a dermatologist?” Susan from security chimes in and Rozanov mutters something incomprehensible.
Nicole welcomes two Norwegian exchange students to the country, then gets caught up in a family of five from the Windhoek flight. The children are absolutely adorable even though they do slow down the process a bit.
When she looks over the next time, there are even more people around Rozanov who are cooing at something on his phone.
“She’s adorable,” Paul from security says while Dave says, “fuck, I want a dog.”
“Anya is the cutest,” Rozanov says, sounding like a proud parent. Huh. Nicole thought she would’ve heard if Hollander had a kid, but maybe she missed it.
“What do you do with her when you’re on the road though?” Susan asks.
“Short trips she goes to hotel,” Rozanov says and Nicole clicks the wrong button, because what? “You know, nice dog hotel. But long trips, Shane’s parents take her.”
A dog. Well, that makes more sense. Nicole manages to input the information correctly now and hands the passports back to the Windhoek flight family.
“They would take her all the time but they still work and Yuna is always busy,” Rozanov continues.
“Oh my god, I can’t imagine having Yuna Hollander as my mother in law. Isn’t that super intimidating?” Dave sounds intimidated just saying Yuna Hollander’s name.
“Was at first,” Rozanov says, “but she is the best.”
“I wish my son-in-law said that about me,” the elderly lady who just walked up to Nicole’s station says, clearly having listened to the conversation.
Nicole laughs and takes her passport.
It takes two more people before there’s a commotion and a group of three airport employees, two security guys, and a woman from admin come running down the lane behind the stations.
“Rozanov. Where’s Rozanov?”
Everyone points to Rozanov and his own security guard posse and once again everyone waiting in line gets their phones out.
Nicole focuses on processing the elderly lady from Thailand, here to visit her daughter and her son-in-law who apparently does not speak as fondly of her as hockey super star Ilya Rozanov speaks of his mother-in-law.
And her husband thinks her work is so boring. He’s going to sing a different tune after today. Maybe she should ask Rozanov for a selfie before he leaves.
She gets the chance when Ilya Rozanov gets back into her line.
“Still need to go through right?” His smile is very disarming.
“Absolutely,” Nicole says and takes his passport. “And next time…”
Rozanov laughs. “I keep telling Shane, during the season, I cross the border so many times, but he does not trust me on vacation. Now the tables have turned, yes?” Rozanov winks at her.
Nicole feels a little faint. It’s the only reason why she’d possibly forget her professional training and says, “Indeed. Would you mind taking a picture? My husband, he’s a big hockey fan.”
“Of course!” Then Rozanov’s eyes narrow. “Montreal?”
“Vancouver,” Nicole says. “It’s where he’s from. But I know he thinks your husband is the best player in the league.”
Rozanov shakes his head. “Is very wrong, Shane is second best player. Let’s do a video, we need to correct his mistake.”
And that’s how Nicole ends up with a twenty second video where she’s squished into the frame with Ilya Rozanov, who smells much better than anyone has the right to after a transatlantic flight, where Rozanov tells her husband that Shane Hollander, Canadian hockey Jesus, is in fact only the second best player in the league because he, Ilya Rozanov, is of course the best.
“But you were smart enough to marry wonderful wife, so you’re not entirely hopeless,” is how Rozanov ends the video, and Nicole thinks she’s never met such a charming asshole in her entire life.
(thinking about maybe writing Shane's side of it and putting it on ao3, but I really don't know enough about first class travel lol)
Post outing, during Shane’s first season with Ottawa, he meets up with Rose. The Centaurs have a game in New York and Rose has a Colbert appearance. The press immediately speculates why Ilya didn’t come with them. After all, he and Shane are married now. The more trashy outlets speculate about Shane and Rose rekindling their romance while the more serious ones (lol) write about tension between Rose and Ilya and Ilya being jealous and A Close Friend bemoans how poor Shane is in the middle of his husband and his best friend not getting along.
Fast forward a couple of months, the Centaurs are playing LA. Shane is sitting out the road trip due to a minor injury. Ilya meets up with Rose at a small restaurant to avoid the press, but they get caught by paparazzi. And they get absolutely swarmed. Usually, Rose can handle a few paps going after her, but this time there are so many, they block the way from the restaurant’s door to where her car is parked. Rose was just caught leaving a party hand in hand with another actor a week ago and the paps are after her like crazy and because she and Ilya were meeting on the dl she didn’t bring security. Turns out, she didn’t need to. The paparazzi are in their faces, yelling at Rose about her possible relationship with her actor or whether she’s hooking up with her ex-boyfriend’s husband now, shoving them around and flashing their cameras. Unfortunately for the paparazzi, none of them have a lot of experience with professional hockey players. Hockey players who can fight and are good in a scrum. So Ilya drags up his I’m gonna drop my gloves and punch out your teeth persona and yells at them loud enough that at least two of the paps drop their cameras. Even these hardened vultures don’t know what to do in the face of Russian hockey player fury. Ilya doesn’t punch any of them, but he doesn’t have to. Just wraps an arm around Rose and clears a path for her with the other, his broad shoulders and the murderous expression on his face equally well suited to get them back to Rose’s car. The clip goes viral, especially because it catches Rose’s absolutely vindicated expression when Ilya basically glares the last photographer out of his way, and says, just audible for the camera, “next time we go out, we bring hockey sticks and just sweep them out of the way like ugly overgrown pucks.”
Later that night, Rose posts a clip of her and Ilya on the ice, shooting pucks with the caption 💪 practice.
i find it so funny how we collectively as a fandom have resorted to 'and shane is out of the house doing a commercial' as the one all-encompassing excuse for any post-TLG headcanon where they have to not be in the same place for plot reasons, because it's an actual mental gymnastic to conjure up any other circumstances where they would ever willingly be apart once married.
I think my favorite throwaway detail in Hit or Miss so far has got to be "Madonna & Co-Critic." I can see it so clearly. It's the best picture ever taken. It's David's favorite picture. It's Ilya's favorite picture. Shane & Yuna will never not complain about it, they were just watching hockey, and that's what their faces look like.
After Shane & Ilya's first joint Cup win a picture of them kissing on the ice ends up on the cover of Time and Ilya posts online like "yes yes it was a very nice photo @/unnamedphotographer but have any of you seen this one my father-in-law took named Madonna & Co-Critic" and Shane threatens bodily harm in his comments
I also can't help imagining someday in the future when Shane is the Centaurs' assistant GM or coach or consultant or whatever, Ilya comes by during an open practice and 20 minutes later he's blowing up the Hollander Fam groupchat like-
Ilya: DAVID DAVID DAVID DAVID
Ilya: DAVID YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE THIS
Ilya: [photo attached] [picture of Shane holding their two-year-old daughter, both of them watching the rink with identical judgmental expressions]
Ilya: DAVID THIS IS THE BEST PICTURE I HAVE EVER TAKEN WHAT SHOULD I NAME IT
David is thrilled, Shane is unimpressed, Yuna maybe finally gets the hype because that's adorable
I'M SO GLAD OTHER PEOPLE LIKED IT BECAUSE IT'S TRULY ONE OF MY FAVORITE THINGS I'VE EVER WRITTEN
and oh my GOD THE IDEA!!! OF A SECOND ONE HAPPENING!! WITH SHANE AND THEIR DAUGHTER!!
stormborns
turnnoffyourmind
germansingergirl
tangentwithtanner
titsay
