Personally I do think that sometimes non-hockey fans can end up mischaracterizing Shane and Ilya because they don't know enough about hockey/hockey playstyles
The Ilya we see in Heated rivalry would not be throwing the first punch, he's not an enforcer. Ilya is a star center and a Pest. He wouldn't be doing his job correctly if he was punching players every other game, it would end up with not enough ice time to let him be the playmaker he's paid to be.
But being a pest can be playmaking! Find a player to bait, emotionally push them just enough that they try to fight you, and then get the fuck out of there before the ref gives you both penalties. This gets your team the power play. There is probably someone on Ilya's line dedicated to helping him get out of the fights he starts, and finishing them for him!
I also think this is also something that Shane would respect. Ilya is good at it and it's a good strategy for his team. I don't think Shane would see it as some dirty tactic, because Shane probably thinks everyone with a brain can see it for what it is! He probably thinks everyone should be able to see that being an asshole is a tactic for Ilya, that it's something to ignore and not fall for, that it's a strategy and not personal beef.
I think Shane's more disappointed when a Metro falls for it. Shane sees it as Ilya set up a Looney Toons ass obvious trap and one of his teammates ran into it. Why be mad at Bugs Bunny when you can be mad at your defenceman for falling for a fucking Bugs Bunny trap.
can't describe how happy i am that the "hockey is sex and sex is hockey and both are ilya and ilya is both" line in "he's my best friend (who i think is hot)" is resonating with so many people like is that not the core thesis of shane hollander's existence
Fandom is so obsessed with contrasts in ships that they force them onto hollanov, a couple who are FAMOUSLY supposed to be similar. There is no slutty one and prudish one. They both love sex. There is no smart one and dumb one. They both excel at the same career where traditional metrics of academic intelligence don't apply. There is no jock and nerd. They are both professional athletes. There is no neatfreak and slob. They both pay other people to clean their houses. Please release yourself from the need to manufacture an opposites attract dynamic in every facet of their relationship, ESPECIALLY when the central conceit of hollanov as a couple is that they're more alike than everyone else seems to think.
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
re: the city of montreal loving shane hollander to a maybe concerning extent, i have a deeply unserious vision.
i just know like. he could tweet the word "riot" and downtown montreal would be on fire within two hours. he would never do this! but he has the power. 3x cup winning captain and he's beautiful and niceys and fluent in french? they will move mountains for him. if he so much as just obliquely hints that management is giving him any sort of trouble literally ever, the gm has to worry about his house getting firebombed. the people do not play about captain hollander. it is life and fucking death.
so like if shane has any sort of troubles with management after he comes out, just imagine. he discusses strategy with farah and yuna and they're like some public pressure might not be a bad thing. you can't say anything about specifics, but just a little mention of where you're at, emotionally speaking. and shane says okay, i can try that. so he just very casually mentions in an interview or whatever that some internal issues w the organization have come up after he and ilya got outed, and he's always wanted to retire in montreal, but he's starting to get scared that that might not be entirely up to him anymore, but that's probably just pessimism and paranoia after the outing talking, haha. he's sure, logically, that everything will work out. it's just kind of scary.
[smash cut to downtown montreal on fire]
and he's just like holy shit. i mean i knew montreal has strong feelings about hockey and even about me, but i just thought they might bombard the metros on social media if i mentioned the organization being kinda homophobic. was NOT expecting this???? oh my god??? did i just start a riot by making sad puppy eyes at a camera during one (1) interview?????????
(ilya: i have told you your big beautiful brown eyes are powerful beyond measure. what, you didn't believe me?)
like i can't stress enough. he just was like "psst if some of you guys could send a few strongly worded emails or tweets that would maybe help me out a bit :)" and his fans went "understood. preparing our molotov cocktails now. WE RIDE AT DAWN"
so shane is trapped in his apartment going holy shit oh my god i didn't mean for this to happen???!!! what do i do?!!?? and management and ownership are having an emergency meeting as they abruptly realize that maybe capitalism and property damage matter more to them than homophobia and maybe they need to RAPIDLY restructure their whole approach to how they're handling the hollander situation. please hollander whatever you need we'll do it. please just never make the sad puppy eyes at a camera again holy fuck jesus christ they're going to burn down the gm's house.
there will be a second emergency meeting scheduled with hollander shortly, in which the gm will swear his undying loyalty and fealty to the service of shane hollander and the owners will declare that whatever he needs to keep getting cups in montreal, he can have! just let us know what you need from us hollander. and also please tweet that we are no longer making you sad. please your fans are going to rend us limb from limb and eat our hearts in the square hollander please just tweet a rainbow emoji and smiley face or something. please. hollander please
meanwhile ilya is trying to drive over to see shane to provide emotional support during all this nonsense, but montreal is on fire. theres barricades in the streets. people are yelling and waving signs and throwing things. the fucking french are so dramatic, he complains. for fuck's sake. like yes this is also exactly how he feels about shane's big beautiful brown eyes but good fucking lord.
finally he has to roll down his window like "excuse me! i am shane hollander's boyfriend and i am trying to bring him some ginger ale! can you let my fucking car pass!" and somehow this actually works. it's like when a crowd parts to let an ambulance through, but its "MOVE, ROZANOV IS BRINGING CAPITAINE HIS GINGER ALE" spreading through the crowd. shane is utterly flabbergasted when he hears about this. he doesn't even know the full extent of the power he holds
Thanks for all the hard work you've been doing, curating and finding all these fics, you're amazing ☺️
Looking for a post outing fic where Shane and Ilya do an interview with a female interviewer that tries to trick them into revealing when they started their relationship by showing them a wall of pictures and asking which photo is "the before" photo. And if I remember right, Shane is also BAMF in dealing with the interviewer.
Hmmm here is what I could find.
It's Just An Interview
Shane and Ilya have been married for a while. It's about time someone told the press something, right?
OR
Yuna is not above bribery, Ilya is not above being a menace, and it's a good thing Shane loves them enough to be along for the ride.
Does this fic sound familiar to anyone else? Please let me know x
baby Ilya’s tiny angry Russian ranting when Irina won’t let him stay on the ice and his cheeks are all bright pink and his little nose is wet and he’s plopping down onto the ice and crossing his arms and yelling NYET NYET NYET.
Across the ocean at the exact same time, the exact same thing is happening to a very exhausted Yuna Hollander.
Ok but Cliff Marlow somehow managing to get into Ilya's phone after the Tunameltdown in the middle of the Hollandry crashout, and getting Montreal Jane's number.
The entire Boston roster piling behind Marly as he types, trying to decide what to say that could save them because their captain has been possessed by the spirit or a soviet military trainer with knife shoes and if they are forced to make double bagskates again they will either puke or die or both.
So Shane Hollander wakes up one day to a message from an unknown number like "Hello Miss Jane ma'am this is Clifford Marlow I don't know if you have heard of me I am sorry to be a bother I'm just wondering if you could give my good friend Ilya another chance, I promise that whatever he did he won't do again, we will help we will teach him to cook and clean and do laundry and he will cook you the best sandwiches ever if you only give him a chance only if you want of course if it's not too much of a bother Miss Jane please and thank you" and he goes through the seven stages of grief in like 4 seconds before it's even 7am. They manage to add the link to a very big spa gift card that they all chipped in to buy because at that point they're desperate.
It was a huge milestone of scientific and technological advancement. (Plus, at the time, politically significant). Humanity went to space! We set foot on a celestial body that was not earth for the first time in human history! That’s a big deal! I’ve never thought about it before but now that I have, it’s ridiculous to me that that’s not part of our everyday lives and the public consciousness anymore. Why don’t we have a public holiday and a family barbecue about it. Why have I never seen the original broadcast of the moon landing? It should be all over the news every year!
It’s July 20th. That’s the day of the moon landing. Next year is going to be the 54th anniversary. I’m ordering astronaut shaped cookie cutters on Etsy and I’m going to have a goddamn potluck. You’re all invited.
PITCH: We call it Moon Day, and then every 7 years when it falls on a Monday, that's an even BIGGER deal and we call that Moon Day Monday and go absolutely apeshit about it (the next Moon Day Monday is in 2026 so we have a couple trial runs first)
I scheduled this in 2025 to give you all a week to make Moon Day Monday preparations! I think I will order a little rocket cake or bake some moon phase cookies!
Shane does an interview after they're outed where he says, kind of off-handedly, that the one thing that still bothers him about having to keep their relationship secret for so long is that there are no pictures of them together as a couple from those years.
Someone clips it and it goes viral.
Over the next few days, Shane and Ilya's mentions start to get flooded with pictures. Mostly it's screenshots from various games they played against each other, meticulously picked through by dedicated fans to find every moment Shane and Ilya looked at each other on the ice.
Some screenshots get shared by hundreds of different people because they stand out so obviously: Shane and Ilya meeting each other's eyes during a face off; Ilya looking at Shane while his back is turned, naked longing visible on his face; Shane chasing after Ilya with a small but delighted grin.
There are also pictures from press events, award ceremonies, behind the scenes at All Stars. Seemingly any time Shane and Ilya got captured in the same frame gets dug up and shared.
Finally, a couple of weeks later, the director of Shane and Ilya's CCM commercial posts outtakes from their shoot. It's captioned 'Took a bit of digging but I knew I still had these somewhere! I had to make my contribution to the #HollanovArchives even though this must have been a while before they got together. These kids had crazy chemistry, right from the start!'
Shane hasn't responded to the onslaught yet, too overwhelmed by the (slightly terrifying) dedication of their fans as well as the fact that he now has dozens of pictures clearly displaying his and Ilya's love for each other during a time in their lives when it was so desperately hidden.
He does respond now, sharing the director's post with a sincere (and publicist-approved) caption thanking him and the fans.
Ilya also shares the post, tacking on 'yes if a while means a few hours 👅' like he didn't cry when Shane showed him the videos.
Hiiii! I'm looking for a fic where shane asks ilya about the sex he had with other people and ilya worries he's jealous but actually shane just wanted to know he's the best at it because he's competitive motherfucker
Thanks!
UPDATE: Fic Added ⬇️
The Top 1% (Of Lovers)
He and Shane are in bed together, Ilya’s lips attached to Shane’s neck as they lazily grind against each other, when Shane says, “So you’ve slept with like eight hundred women.”
I struggled with searching for this one. This was all I could come up with, but hopefully someone here finds it familiar and can help if what I posted is not it.
all my perversions
A sex tape of Ilya with a girl leaks. Shane reacts normally.
Hiiii! I'm looking for a fic where shane asks ilya about the sex he had with other people and ilya worries he's jealous but actually shane just wanted to know he's the best at it because he's competitive motherfucker
Thanks!
I struggled with searching for this one. This was all I could come up with, but hopefully someone here finds it familiar and can help if what I posted is not it.
all my perversions
A sex tape of Ilya with a girl leaks. Shane reacts normally.
freckles (NC-17, 2,272 words) (i put a poll out about the number of freckles shane has but ilya has spoken for himself)
“How many do you have?”
Shane blinks, turning to look over his shoulder at his boyfriend as he cooks dinner. It’s another night at the cottage; the air is slightly cool as the sun goes down, but perfect to sit outside and eat. He can turn the fire pit on a bit early, maybe lay there with Ilya and look at the stars. It’s ridiculous how his stomach flutters at the concept, like he hasn’t spent time with Ilya in such an intimate manner before.
“What?” He laughs softly, unsure what Ilya is asking about.
Ilya steps closer to him, somehow predatory in his gaze; assessing. His eyes trail over his face, cupping Shane’s cheek. Shane feels heat gather behind his chest, dipping low behind his sternum like melting honey. Sticky and sweet. He finds himself closing his eyes as Ilya drags a thumb over his cheekbone,
“Freckles. How many?”
“Oh,” Shane shakes his head, pulling away just slightly so he can turn the fire off underneath the pot on the stove. He leans against the counter, “I don’t know.”
There’s a slight crinkle to Ilya’s nose, like this information somehow offends him. He leans closer, bumps their noses together and says, “There are thirty-two on your face.”
Another laugh rumbles in his chest because— “There is no way you counted the ones on my face.”
Ilya tilts his head, his hand moving to clasp Shane’s chin between his fingers, “Do you think this is something I joke about.” It’s not a question.
Shane touches the side of his own face, his eyebrows drawing together because he never…there’s really thirty-two on his face? Ilya seems to read that question loud and clear, his hand moving to drag his thumb down the bridge of Shane’s nose,
“They are here too.”
Shane should not feel so light-headed when Ilya leans in and kisses his cheek. Something soft and gentle and far too loving that it makes his chest want to crack wide open in the middle of the kitchen.
He clears his throat, “Dinner is done.”
Ilya hums, “YA sobirayus' dokopat'sya do suti etogo dela.”
Shane blinks, unsure of what Ilya’s said, but he knows him well enough to gather that it’s a promise.
—
It takes Shane one (1) time for him to realize what Ilya is doing.
They’re in the shower, slowly waking up together. Shane shifts to let Ilya slide under the showerhead, a soft yawn leaving his lips. He rubs his hands over his face and tries to mentally put his day together. He can feel Ilya step closer, pressing kisses along the back of his shoulders and neck and then—
“Fifty.”
Shane stills, turning his head to look at him over his shoulder, “Are you—what are you doing?”
Ilya runs both his hands through his curls, getting them out of his face, “I think you know.”
“Oh my god,” Shane reaches for the shampoo bottle only for Ilya to snatch it out of his hands. His boyfriend pours some into his palms and lathers it between his fingers before he begins to wash Shane’s hair. “There are probably more important things to keep track of.”
“No,” Ilya disagrees, one of his arms wrapping around Shane’s waist and tugging him back against him. A smile pulls at the corners of Shane’s lips. “Not for me.”
Shane rolls his eyes but it doesn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat, either.
—
It continues like this over the course of two days. Shane thinks he’ll eventually get annoyed with Ilya actively looking for patches of freckles all over his body.
But of course, he doesn’t.
—
“Ow.”
Ilya hums lightly, crouching in front of Shane as he sits on a large stone in the middle of the woods, “Who said hikes were good idea?”
Shane gives him a look, “They are when you’re watching where you’re going,” He winces, “Case in point.”
They’d been taking a walk (not a hike, a walk) through the woods in the back of his parent’s place while they waited for dinner to be made. It's a beautiful day, the sun high in the sky, lots of fluffy clouds, and a breeze. Shane’s always enjoyed being outdoors and he knows that’s not Ilya’s favorite, exactly, but doing things like this every so often isn’t going to hurt anything. Or well, unless your sneaker slides against gravel because you’re too busy looking at your boyfriend.
“You were checking me out,” Ilya grins, "Distraction makes sense.”
“Shut up.”
Ilya spills some water from the bottle he was carrying to clean the bit of road rash Shane has along his knee. It’s not too bad. When he gets back to his parent’s place he can get a band-aid and call it a day. His stomach does a ridiculous swoop when Ilya leans closer and presses a kiss right above the cut,
“Fifty-three.”
A huff of a laugh leaves Shane’s lips and he tilts his head back, “Right. That would be your concern right now.”
Ilya grins, another kiss, “Malysh.” Baby; a heated zing travels right down Shane’s spine. “Do you want me to carry you back?”
Shane playfully pushes on Ilya’s shoulder, “Fuck off, Rozanov.”
Ilya considers him for just a moment before he’s moving; a practiced speed. He scoops Shane up into his arms bridal style, regardless of the ridiculous squawk noise that leaves Shane’s throat, walking back down the path to Yuna and David’s home.
—
It’s one of those days where Shane feels exhausted. Between practice and obligations and expectations of tomorrow sitting heavily on his shoulders, he’s feeling worn down and slightly overstimulated. He tugs his shirt off his head, not wanting the fabric against his body. He tosses it towards the hamper in the closet and runs a hand over his face. He can hear patterned movement on the carpet approaching him, Ilya’s hand reaching out and gliding down his arm.
“Is okay if I touch you?” He asks, squeezing his fingers.
It takes a moment before, “Yeah,” Shane manages to reply, “Even though I feel like crawling out of my skin.”
Ilya gently pulls him closer, brushing his lips over his cheek, “You are tired,” He says softly, “Come here.”
There’s a depth of warmth inside his body that Ilya always seems to reach and understand without trying too hard. He knows that Shane’s overworked and drained and knows what he needs without Shane having to voice it.
Ilya tugs him towards the bed and pulls the sheets back. He props pillows along the headboard and turns to look at Shane, encouraging his sweatpants down and off. Shane plays with the hem of his briefs before he takes those off too. He waits, eventually allowing Ilya to manipulate his body on top of his own after he lays down in bed. Shane sinks into his boyfriend, his face tucked into his neck, his legs slipping between Ilya’s. Ilya, who has taken off all of his layers too, lets Shane get comfortable.
That skin to skin contact unlocks something in Shane, he can feel himself relax, muscle by muscle, bone by bone. He lets out a long sigh, no longer clenching his teeth, no longer trembling. Ilya guides his hand up and down Shane’s back, his nose and lips pressing a kiss to his head.
“That’s it,” Ilya soothes, “Dyshat'.”
Shane’s getting a little better at Russian but he still doesn’t know enough. Luckily, he doesn’t need that word translated, because Ilya takes deep breaths into his lungs, holds, and lets it out. He wants him to breathe. Shane closes his eyes, memorizes the pattern of Ilya breathing and copies until he completely unwinds.
Ilya’s hand strokes his hair, shifting his body a bit. He can’t see him smile, but Shane can hear it in his voice as he says, “Sixty.”
A laugh flutters from his chest, “Ilya.”
“Shane,” Ilya parrots back, his thumb tracing a circle underneath his ear, “Right here.”
He keens into the touch, isn’t shy about it, allowing Ilya’s touch to ground him. He keeps his eyes closed, listening to the solid beat of Ilya’s heart, “How many do you think I have?”
Ilya is quiet for a moment, then, “One hundred.” An amused noise rumbles in Shane’s chest at the very specific number, “I think I am right.”
And Shane knows he’ll figure it out, too.
—
Shane’s arms come up to cover his eyes for a moment, his chest heaving with shallow pants as he lays on his back. Ilya lies between his spread legs, arching one of Shane’s to rest over his shoulder. He peppers kisses along his inner thigh, getting close to his hard cock but never close enough.
“Fuck,” Shane pants, “Stop teasing.”
Ilya smirks, nipping at a spot near his knee, “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”
“I hate you.”
Ilya shifts to press a kiss underneath his belly button, mouth then brushing the head of Shane’s cock. Then the fucker licks his lips, “Mouth says one thing but dick says another.”
Shane swallows a whine when Ilya slips down his body again, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the inside of his thighs, sucking hickies—and then he suddenly stops.
“I swear to god, Rozanov, if you don’t put your mouth where it’s more useful—”
“Sixty-five.”
Shane’s mind goes utterly blank, “What?”
“Actually,” Ilya pauses, brushing his thumb over, seemingly, a cluster of freckles on his inner thigh near the swell of his ass, “Sixty-six.”
“Jesus Christ,” Shane pants, “I feel like you’re just making it up at this point.”
Ilya nips at the spot with his teeth, “I would never.”
All other thoughts melt right out of Shane’s ears when Ilya finally, finally, wraps his lips around his cock.
—
Ilya finds three more, in random places along Shane’s back, while he has him face down on the mattress.
—
While Shane drives them to the grocery store, Ilya holds onto one of his hands. He turns their palms over, smiling as he presses a kiss to Shane’s forearm. And finds two more freckles.
—
They’re drying off in the sun after swimming in the lake and Shane hands Ilya a bottle of sunscreen.
“Put this on.”
Ilya purses his lips, “You first.”
Shane rolls his eyes, a small smile pulling the corners of his mouth. Ilya thinks this will make him forget that he also needs sunscreen, but it won’t. Ilya squirts a small amount into his hands, lifting Shane’s arm to get his sides—
And presses a kiss to his ribs.
“Stop,” Shane lets out a breathy laugh.
“I forgot you are ticklish, but needed to be done.”
Shane hums lightly, “How many?”
Ilya grins, rubbing sunscreen into his skin, “Three.”
—
“How did I miss this one?”
Shane turns his gaze away from the book he’s reading, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion as he looks down at Ilya (who has been tucked against his chest for twenty minutes). Shane’s shirt has ridden up a little to expose a strip of his skin near his belly button and—
“This is getting ridiculous.”
Ilya pouts, “What’s ridiculous is that I somehow did not see this one.”
Shane squirms when Ilya presses a kiss directly next to his belly button, sliding his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, “How many is that?”
Ilya hums, getting himself comfortable again against Shane’s abdomen, nose burrowing slightly in his shirt. “Seventy-four.”
Shane smiles, a soft scoff leaving his lips as he trails his fingers through Ilya’s curls.
—
Ilya lets out a soft groan, as if he’s not exactly where he wants to be, when Shane plops himself down on top of him on the patio couch. It’s late, the stars winking in the sky, the fire pit at Yuna and David’s crackling as he and Shane wait for dessert to come out of the oven. Shane is wine tipsy, his cheeks flushed, his eyes a little unfocused, warm and top-heavy and his.
He wraps his arms around Shane’s waist, keeping him close, gliding a hand up and down his back before settling at the scruff of his neck. He squeezes, rubbing his thumb back and forth.
Shane lets out a sleepy noise that makes Ilya want to bite him, but he refrains. At least for now when there are glass doors that show Yuna and David in the kitchen.
“Dessert is probably cookies,” Shane says softly, “But I want ice cream.”
“I will get you ice cream.” Ilya replies instantly. He would figure out a way to get the moon if Shane wanted it.
Shane smiles against the skin of his neck, “Yeah?”
Ilya nods, brushing a kiss to his temple. “Whatever you want, moya lyubov'.”
There’s another hum that reminds Ilya of a cat purring as Shane settles against his chest, head tucked along his shoulder. Ilya strokes through his hair again and smiles as he pauses, fingering the top of Shane’s ear.
A freckle.
He feels like he’s done a pretty thorough job looking for these, as well as anyone can anyways. Shane must sense his hyperfocus because he clears his throat, “How many?”
“Total? Seventy-five.” He lets out a long sigh from his nose, as if in defeat. He thought one hundred was a good guess but, “The only time I do not mind being wrong.”
Shane smiles, pressing a lazy kiss to Ilya’s chest, his hand playing with the sleeve of his shirt. He tips his head down, brushing his nose along a mole on his bicep, “How many moles do you have?”
Ilya grins, “Maybe you should count.”
A soft smirk as Shane presses a kiss there, “Maybe.”
Fun fact, i live near the stadium. But my uncle? Oh my uncle used to live rgt in front of it, like super fans would camp out in his building garage bc it was in the same direction as the players entrance.
He couldnt even move the car during game day, and sometimes even during non game days bc people wouls try to see the players b4 and after practice.
Shane would have been dealing with this shit since he was 18/19.
Sidney Crosby once talked how he always wore a cap during game days and his parents wouldnt say his name in public bc otherwise he'd be harassed by parents of the other team. At 12.
Shane and Ilya have the kind of skill that would have been making waves since before they were teens.
Oh this is really interesting insight.
The dedication of sports fans continues to blow my mind. I have seen that Sidney Crosby faced a lot of harassment growing up which is. Bonkers to me. Like he’s 12 and grown adults are coming from him.
Shane and Ilya’s childhoods and the role fame played n them is one of those other details that I wished was a little bit more fleshed out in canon. We got a little flash of it in the show that not everything was sunshine and rainbows when Shane mentioned to Rose that he’d faced kidnapping threats before—which could have all happened when he was an adult, but I personally headcanon that some where when he was younger and started making waves.
We know that Shane and Ilya were big deals by 2009. They’re described as two of the most talked about prospects in the world. But canon just kind of ends there. We don’t really know what form that attention took or when exactly it started or what their relationship with fame is. But if we take their real-life counterparts’ as inspiration, then their fame has fascinating implications for the pressures on their relationship.
Sidney Crosby has been in the news for his hockey ability since he was seven years old. When he was 13, they tried to sue to get him into a league that was above his age level because he was that good.
When he was in minor hockey—not even junior leagues, minor—he did this interview with CBC where he talked about how other players would try to injure him, how he was being verbally abused by the parents of the other team, and about how he’d have to try to keep people from recognizing him between tournament games so the abuse would stop. He moved to fucking Minnesota for a time to get away from the abuse.
Like. Sidney Crosby is a Canadian national hero. He’s a question on their nationalization test. He has the Order of Canada. The man is a legend. Canada loves their hockey boy so much. And he plays for goddamn Pittsburgh.
What happens if Canada’s most special hockey boy gets drafted to its most hockey city, home of its most dedicated hockey fanbase? What happens if that guy revitalizes his team and brings the Stanley Cup home to Canada for the first time in nearly two decades?
Legitimately, can Shane Hollander even go to the grocery store? How many stalkers has he had? When was the last time he’s touched his own wallet in Montreal city limits? Has the Prime Minister name dropped him in a press conference?
How many little kids have told him they want to grow up and be just like him?
Then consider Ilya. What about his public image in Russia?
Hockey is a very big part of the Russian identity, and I do not mean from a cultural standpoint. I mean from a state propaganda standpoint.
Hockey is regularly used by the Russian government to promulgate a nationalist ideology. Athletes are figures you rally around. The Russian government personally promotes athletes as ideals to its citizens to inspire national pride. Look at how much better, faster, stronger we are. The KHL is so entrenched in Russian propaganda that multiple countries are trying to stop their own citizens from joining that League.
The fact that Ilya plays in America instead of the KHL would not insulate him from his role in state propaganda. Sending its hockey players to play abroad is part of Russia’s global playbook. They go out and they beat Western athletes on their own playing field and then Russia pushes their achievements to their own citizens. Look at how much better, faster, stronger we are.
Ilya is based off of Alexander Ovechkin. Ovechkin has fucking Putin’s cellphone number. He was part of Putin’s last presidential campaign. Putin personally sent that guy a gift at his wedding. When Ovechkin broke the record for all-time career NHL goals, Russia immediately incorporated it into a state propaganda push. If you are a big enough Russian hockey player, you are part of the Russian national identity. It does not matter if you don’t play in Russia.
Ilya isn’t just some Russian hockey player good enough to go pro. He is the best hockey player to come out of their country, possibly ever. He is neck-and-neck with some Canadian fuck for the title of greatest hockey player in the world. He is one of the greatest hockey players of all time.
And he’s a guy who was raised by a controlling, abusive family that was heavily involved in the government.
His dad worked for the Ministry of Internal Affairs. That’s Russia’s federal law enforcement agency. It reports directly to the president. And all of his dad’s goddamn medals suggest that he was no small fish. Ilya and his dad have scenes where they are mingling with members of Putin’s cabinet.
There is absolutely no way that Ilya has not been heavily featured in Russian state propaganda. He was the best of the best. His family was already involved in high-level government activities. He is best friends with the daughter of Russia’s Minister of Sport. And he did not have control of his own image. His family was too controlling for that.
This is bigger than him just being a Russian hockey player. Because he isn’t just some Russian hockey player. He is the Russian hockey player. He is the guy that Russia has been pushing to its own citizens as the guy they should all aspire to fucking be, and they have been doing it since he was goddamn 17.
So what does Russia do if Putin’s favorite hockey player defects from the goddamn nation so he can be with his gay lover, the Prince of Canada?
Suddenly it’s not as simple as just choosing to be together. Because there are two very powerful countries invested in each of them. And they do not want the two of them together.
At least once a year when the Raiders come to town Ilya reactivates his inner fuckboi and goes out with his boys who are still on the team, goes hard at the club, wears something objectively hideous, steals someone's Raider's ballcap and throws it on backwards. Phone buzzing in his pocket all night while he ignores it (this is Part of the Game) and when he finally closes out his tab after midnight he sees that someone has changed his contact for Shane back to 'Jane' and that 'Jane' has been blowing up his phone for the last few hours
Jane: Are we still on for tonight?
Jane: ???
Jane: Rozanov.
Jane: Fuck you I'm not going to just wait around for you all night.
Jane: Asshole.
Ilya just smirks to himself and replies with a room number.
And the thing is that they do actually have to be a bit sneaky. It wouldn't do for someone to draw some false conclusions about why one half of the most scrutinized marriage in the NHL is loitering in a random hotel lobby in Ottawa on a Thursday evening. Ilya doesn't want that kind of publicity and he does not want to try to explain that it's not what it looks like to his in-laws.
So there's a thrill to it when he scans the keycard into the reader and Shane is sitting there in the dark, breath heavy like he's nervous or like he's just run up six flights of stairs to avoid elevator cameras.
(It's both)
And yeah maybe it breaks kayfabe a bit that Shane already had the room key or that he's wearing his Centaurs team crewneck instead of the Metros one that he would have been wearing in this scenario years ago (because he threw them all out in a fit of pique and Ilya cheered him on) but the hotel room is dark and the only difference in the crewnecks is that the number 24 over the breast is red instead of blue.
He's even combed his hair down over his forehead. Fuck.
"Where the fuck have you been," Shane says, cornering Ilya as soon as the door is closed. "I've been sitting here like a fucking idiot, Rozanov."
"Relax, Hollander," Ilya coos, angling Shane's face with a hand on his jaw, and Shane tries to jerk away and Ilya steels his grip and then the game is really on.
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