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18 | she/her | bakugou simp | I like anime and kpop

[xxharumixx]

Fandoms I'm in :

Anime :

My hero academia

Attack on titan

Death note

The promised neverland

Demon slayer

Jujutsu kaisen

Cyberpunk Edgerunners

Lookism

Horimiya

Maid sama

(I have so many animes in my watch list but absolutely no motivation)

Kpop :

Bts

Stray kidz

Enhyphen

I listen to songs from a bunch of groups but these are my main ones Ig

I have no idea of what I'm gonna post here lmfao

[diarygirls]

every august without fail is like i will give you some of the most beautiful golden summer moments of your life but also you will be thinking about childhood and loss constantly. it will always be either 5pm or 2am

[russianblush]

like father like son

[kaijuerotica]

i need more fics to play with shane boasting about his ability in private vs acting super hockey player humble when he's on camera

[kaijuerotica]

shane texting ilya after a metros game like: im so fucking tired of carrying this entire team on my back like fuck sure we won tonight but i'd have had a goddamn hat trick if stevens hadn't been off fucking sides like at what point is it easier for me to be the only guy on the fucking ice at least then no one is gonna miss my fucking passes

shane 2 minutes later to the media: oh for sure it's a team effort, we all do our best to contribute 🙂

[il81ya]

everyone’s favourite rookie and everyone’s favourite captain

[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

[okoyestrainee]

I would like for us to consider the way Shane probably crashes hard after each season.

I was that student in school who went overboard every semester. I’m talking color-coded notes, binders on binders of prep for exams, overly prepared for every contingency on the final. I earned my A’s, damnit. So when that last exam was done, the grades were in, and I could relax? Baby, I was down and out for at least a few days. Don’t call me or beep me if you wanna reach me. My phone is off. My leg’s half off the bed. My bonnet done came off—it’s halfway across the room. My mom has to wake me up to drink some water. I barely speak English. Huh? What? No sé. Je ne sais pas. I can’t do the words right now.

Whether the Cup is won or not, the end of the season is Shane’s equivalent of that last final exam. The months-long adrenaline rush is over. Pencils down, hit “submit,” you’re out of time. Shane’s always aiming for the A+ but time’s up, regardless of the grade. He can rest. He needs to rest.

Every year, Shane powers through an hour of his team’s post-season celebration before his eyelids start to droop. The physical, mental, social, and emotional pressures of the year have evaporated in an instant and fuck, how long has he been this exhausted? He goes back to his hotel room, gets a quick nap in, then makes his way to his parents’ place.

That’s when his strings get cut and he just drops.

The moment he’s through the door, he hugs his dad, kisses his mom on the cheek, then heads straight for his childhood bedroom and faceplants into familiar navy blue sheets. He’s out like a light before he hits the pillow. Yuna waits 5 minutes before she comes in to gently take his shoes off, plug his phone in on the dresser, and pull the blankets up to his chin. She tousles his hair and smiles at the way he nuzzles into her hand before she pulls away.

Shane’s dead to the world until dinner. He stumbles out of his room with one sock on, one arm out of his shirt, and eyes half unfocused. Nobody says anything; it’s pointless. Shane’s lost all ability to speak coherently. Any attempts at conversation will be met with gibberish. He’s physically exhausted and mentally fried. Cannot people right now. Try again later, please and thank you.

He allows David to guide him to the table and plops into his seat, blinking owlishly as Yuna sets a plate in front of him. He has to eat with his chin propped up on one hand, to avoid faceplanting into hot food. He can and has fallen asleep in his dinner before without so much as flinching.

David unapologetically takes advantage of the situation every year by making a carb-heavy dish. It’s usually pasta. He knows Yuna will back him up and give Shane seconds. And instead of arguing or making a face, Shane will eat every bite. He’s on autopilot and simply fulfilling basic bodily functions to address hungry-tired-thirsty-sleepy-feed me-take care of me as efficiently as possible.

After he clears his plate (at least twice), Shane smacks his lips and cringes. Good God, his mouth tastes like lasagna and death. Has he brushed his teeth today? He wordlessly makes his way to the bathroom and finds everything set up for a quick routine. Brush, pee, shower, brush again because he forgot he already did. If he has a quick cry, muffled by the shower, nobody says anything. Nothing’s wrong, but the emotional release is very much needed. Retainer in, stare at reflection in mirror for a bit, and right back to bed.

David comes in around midnight to leave a glass of water on the nightstand. He takes his turn to ruffle Shane’s hair and laughs softly at the muffled nonsense he gets in return. Realistically, Shane’s training unicorns to ballroom dance in his dreams and murmuring about their godawful adherence to accepted waltz standards with half the blanket in his mouth. David chooses to take that as “love you, Dad, thank you for tolerating me in my zombie state.”

When Shane wakes up the next afternoon, he accepts a cup of coffee, then looks blearily up at Yuna and utters the first words he’s consciously strung together since arriving the morning before. Usually, Yuna and David take bets on whether it’ll actually make sense. Last year it was: “Why is…cookies and cheese?” The year before was “I have no idea where dogs lie in keyboards for boats.” He always looks at them in confusion when they don’t answer, then chugs the rest of his coffee before putting his head down and napping a bit more.

This year, with Ilya still asleep in the navy blue sheets down the hall, dead to the world and snoring like a freight train, Shane comes up with something different.

“We have…tea for Ilya?”

David blinks. That’s…surprisingly coherent. Also, tea?

“Um,” Yuna responds. “We have green tea.”

“Mmm…no,” Shane yawns, jaw clicking as his mouth opens as wide as possible. “No caffeine in off-season. He gets…mm. No.”

None of them have noticed that the snoring’s stopped. As if on cue, Ilya stumbles into the kitchen—curls flat on one side of his head, eyes barely open, and creases from the sheets imprinted on his face and chest. His sweatpants are on backwards, but it’s highly unlikely he notices.

Yuna and David have a silent conversation as Ilya plops himself into Shane’s lap, grabs his coffee, takes a sip, and makes a face like someone just insulted his mother. He whines pitifully and flops back into Shane, who buries his face in Ilya’s neck and promptly falls asleep again.

“This is too cute,” David says with his eyes. “They’re like drunk toddlers.”

Yuna nods jerkily toward the table at their cell phones. “Take a picture, take a picture!”

[everythingzconnected]

Polina

Ok, hear me out. I can no longer remember if it is just Fanon or it is actually canon that Polina is a gold digger. But what if she is not?

We know that Grigori was abusive and is assumed major reason for Irina's suicide. Based on the real life abuse stories I hear about on the daily, is continuing the abuse on the next spouse. I have a hard time believing Grigori stopped being abusive just because he got remarried.

Yeah, I 100% believe Grigori tried marrying a younger version as Irina, but that just makes me worried that it is a younger and more vulnerable woman. A woman pressured into this marriage from a father because Grigori is such an upstanding part of society. Polina is then faced with a horrible man for a husband, and two adolescent boys that hate you for replacing their mom. In fact you are in charge of both of these boys, despite being closer in age to them than her husband.

I can imagine this Polina, who also had a terrible father, bonds with Ilya and the two of them try to protect each other, and it's not really a mother/son relationship, it's more older sister and younger brother vibes. Polina is the one that convinces Ilya to go to the NHL instead of the KHL, tells him that he needs to get out while he can.

That is the true reason he goes back to Russia, he needs to look after Polina and Alexei's daughter. He makes sure they are taken care of and when he decides he's never coming back after his dad's death, Ilya tells Polina that this he isn't coming back and they're crying and then Ilya impulsively asks her to follow him to Canada, because at this point he know's he is settling, wherever Shane is. With Grigori's money and Ilya's connections, she can rebuild a new life. She says she will think on it.

Then sometime after Shane's parents finds out about Ilya and Shane, they are trying to coax information about Ilya's family back in Russia. Ilya is reluctant at first, but he trusts the Hollanders, so he tells her about Polina and by the end of the discussion, Yuna has gotten 5 pages of legal pad filled in with notes about the situation, has Googled 8 different laws and has an email sent out to the family lawyer for immigration lawyer recommendations.

And when Polina finally comes to Canada, the Hollanders take her under their wing and are instantly getting her into English classes, helping her find a place to live, and taking her to the Russian bakery in Ottawa. Polina, the completely fictional made up character I have grown attached to, gets to live her happily ever after with the Hollanders as adopted family and Ilya constantly setting you up with only the nicest and hottest hockey players.

[bfbkg]

FOUND IN TRANSLATION (2.6K)

— bakugou katsuki x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: you ask your boyfriend what language he thinks in. NOTES: suggestive, 18+, you speak english, established relationship, cosy n sleepy. probably needs another proofread aha

your bedroom is toasty, with remnants of your citrus honey perfume you sprayed on before you rushed to work in the morning and lingers of your boyfriend’s infamous smoky sweet smell from where he undressed moments ago to lay beside you.

under the covers beside bakugou katsuki, you couldn’t imagine anywhere safer. you both purposely decided to go to bed early (early for you, not for him) just so you had enough time to make out like teenagers.

you’re in your pyjamas, a lilac soft camisole and old granny striped panties from years ago. they’ve slightly lost their elasticity, a little out of shape but that’s the reason you love them so. also they always manage to get a hearty laugh from katsuki despite their lack of sex appeal. they don’t bother him, he’ll still tug them off with his teeth.

you’ve got your pale pink silk bonnet on, tied to a bow around your head. you’ve tried getting bakugou to wear one, protecting his blonde locks but you’re lost on getting it to stay during the night. it ends up by his feet on the bed, the floor, his face, one time your face. you’ve given up, buying him a silk pillowcase for when he stays over.

the silk is cold on your cheek as you share a pillow on your double bed. nose to nose, body to body.

katsuki is way too big for your bed, the width of his shoulder covers half of your side and it’s something you should complain about… though you can’t when all that toned raw muscle cuddles you to his chest.

it’s quiet in your room, aside from the smacking of your lips, katsuki’s low grumbles that rumble from the pit of his stomach. then when he bites on your bottom lip, it’s a little whine that accidentally flutters out.

it’s a few seconds of staring at your sleepy lover in the dark while your lips are apart, breathless. your hand cups his cheeks and bakugou tugs you closer to him by your hip. you know he’s aroused, he struggles to hide it on a good day but in your bed with his guard down, he finds no reason to.

he squeezes your waist harshly, pushing out a shaky exhale from you like a squeaky toy.

“you’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, guttural like the truth is pulled out from him without his permission. being alone with you does this to him. has him struggling to lie and not say what’s on his mind. katsuki wouldn’t have it any other way.

his skin is shiny from the expensive moisturiser you recommended, making him appear like a baby that just got doused in vaseline. luscious. healthy and stunning with his plucked eyebrows and scar right under his cheekbone.

“no, you are,” you reply, shutting him up by giving him another kiss.

it’s a leisurely kiss. you feel his jaw widen as he tilts his head over yours. your tongues tangle for fun, as if you’re playing a pointless game where you’re both going to win. bakugou manages to suck on yours and without meaning to another whine slips from you.

the only thing on your mind is bakugou katsuki.

you pull away from him, a quick peck on his lip before blinking at him.

“what?” katsuki breathes, tapping your ass cheek twice before resting back on your waist. then he decides to sneak his hand under your cami, his hand cosy under the fabric.

“what language do you think in?” you ask, running the pad of your thumb over his cheek scar. 

“why’re you thinkin’ about that?” he rubs his top lip on his septum then he grabs your hand off his face to kiss your thumb. he’s always transferring your love back to you.

you hum inconspicuously, “i’m thinking about you.”

“japanese, baby. then i translate in my head to talk to you.”

katsuki wants to go back to feeling his lips over yours, tasting every inch of you. but now he’s studying the sleepy sadness in your eyes, how you jut out your bottom lip like you’ve just been wronged.

you’re not wearing anything under your camisole so he’s able to run his thumb on the underside of your breasts. 

“what’s wrong with that?” he asks, trying to figure you out.

bakugou katsuki finds that having a girlfriend often means having to learn another new language. that when you tuck yourself away from him after an argument in the car, it means you want him to talk and not that you need space. that when you want to get dessert, he has to also say yes. you can’t get dessert alone, even if he doesn’t want any. 

you huff softly, running your hand down his bare stone carved chest to the rim of his cotton shorts.

“it sounds like a lot of work you have to do mentally to be with me. i want it to be easy.”

bakugou frowns. you’re disappointed, fucking heartbroken by the looks of it. he wants to laugh, how silly you can get when your unfiltered thoughts come out. you wouldn’t admit something like this during the day, you’d probably make a joke that he should be working his brain to keep up with you.

but you’re softened and closer to the dreamworld than you are on the bed with him.

“it’s not like that, princess. i don’t gotta think twice,” he half shrugs, “it’s not a conscious thing anymore. i just think and out my mouth is english. nothin’ deep.” 

you’re not having it, sighing to yourself, “i’m gonna get really good at japanese for you. i’m not bad at it.”

“your pronunciation is amazin’,” he smiles at you, ducking forward to kiss your lips.

“thanks,” you mumble, opting to feel him up instead.

your hand smooths up his chunky bicep, then down the deep chisels of his back. bakugou thinks you’ve moved on, that he can go back to smushing his face against your pretty one when you speak again.

“there’s a whole world in your head i don’t know about.”

you look at his necklace when you speak, an old gold chain of yours that you gave to him. it was too thick on you and it suits him perfectly. you tug on it, feeling each ridge between your fingers.

“hm?” he pushes you to explain.

“words that can’t translate. the dreams you must have. you know how you can read translated poetry and the notes about the poem are longer than the poem itself? that’s your head and i’m outside of it.” you whisper, holding onto his chain while you kiss him like you feel lonely. though he’s right there.

but bakugou doesn’t pout back. you’ve got him thinking.

“you should be an outsider when i’m with you and your friends or you and your family. i think i know english and then you’re saying words and phrases that i can’t understand. all sounds like gibberish to me.”

“that’s like made up words and slang. you’re still fluent. it’s not the same,” you poke back.

bakugou chuckles, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. he pulls your hand to rest on the centre of his chest and he places his hand over yours. you feel the gentle patter of his heartbeat, it soothes you.

“‘m not fuckin’ fluent.”

you nudge closer to him, unable to not be all over him for a second. you sling your leg over his waist, hugging him to you and running your nose along his ear.

“yes you are. you know everything.” 

“you don’t know what it’s like to argue with you.”

that makes you pause which makes bakugou turn back on his side to look at you.

you purse your lips then relax, “what do you mean?”

“when you’re mad at me, you speak fast as hell, usually cussing me with words i’ve never thought to put together and you’re so quick with it. so fuckin’ quick.” 

you’re unsure how being quick is different to speaking fast.

bakugou can tell you’re still confused. “my brain just can’t keep up. like i’m still translatin’ the last sentence and now you’re tellin’ me to go fuck myself ‘cause i’m a shit piece.”

you giggle at that. piece of shit, he knows.

“i think you’re making excuses because i’m always right,” you play.

bakugou shrugs, “maybe baby. but it’s so fuckin’ hard. i know what i wanna say when we argue but then you’re already on to the next point and i haven’t answered the first and then ‘cause i’m not talkin’ ‘cause im tryin’ to think, you think i don’t care.”

it’s easier to talk about arguing when you’re not arguing. 

“oh kats. that makes me sad. i’ll be more patient—,”

“no, no. i wanna be able to handle it.” he squeezes your hand.

“it’s not something to handle. i see when you argue with kiri and deku. you’re quick then, even though i don’t know what you’re talking about,”

bakugou grins, “i do like when you call me a fuckin’ dickhead.” he mimics your accent, his own chesty chuckle falling out when you put your hand on his face and grimace loudly.

he kisses the centre of your palm and the tickle causes you to pull away.

“i’ll be better for you,” you whisper and bakugou shakes his head.

“no, i will.” you finalise. 

bakugou sighs softly, knowing your mind won’t change.

you chew the inside of your cheek, a sign you’re dying to speak.

“go on then, baby.” he smiles.

“english isn’t even a romantic language. nothing sounds pretty, if anything it’s a pretty evil language—,”

bakugou stuffs his head into your neck, pushing you back into the bed softly. he begins nibbling on a soft spot before resting his lips on top in a wet kiss. he rubs over your lower back in slow circles.

“too much thinkin’, baby,” he works on your neck, loving how you mould your body into his, “it’s romantic ‘cause i’m talkin’ to you. your birthday cards, even your texts to me sound like poetry.”

you grunt to yourself. you are a good writer.

“you speak english at work. it’s not always romantic for you.”

bakugou rests on his forearm, hovering over you. “i can speak any language i want at work and people will find a way to listen.” 

there’s the humility you love in your boyfriend. 

“but i love talkin’ and understandin’ you. your big ass world in there,” he taps your temple with the tip of your finger, “the only benefit to knowin’ this language is i get to know you.”

you awe before you can help it and bakugou hangs his head in a blush. he manhandles your body with a single hand, pulling you closer under his arm.

“maybe english is romantic.” you hum, “and don’t lie to me. you need english for me and to watch those american superhero movies without subtitles.”

bakugou looks up at you grinning, nudging his nose into your cheek, “not true. the japanese dub is sick. rather listen to it in japanese.”

you can’t push your smile off, “so just me?”

he nods like a lovesick fool, droopy sleepy eyes and a wandering hand. “just you, princess.”

with your mind settled and tonight’s questions answered, you and bakugou go back to learning each other's language.

this time bakugou lets you sink your tongue into his mouth. wet kiss after wet kiss, your nails satisfyingly scratching through his hair and scalp.

bakugou moans into your mouth, sending vibrations throughout your body. “i love you.”

“i love you and thank you for letting me win all the arguments. you need to level up before you can fight me,” you giggle against his lips.

bakugou rolls his eyes, he’s got you back, bubbly and tender in his arms.

“yeah, yeah, princess,” he grins at you, looking over your body. he brushes his hand over your clothed groin, your fluffy pubic hair all tucked under your high waisted panties. “d’you wanna take these off for me? wanna hear you moan for me.”

you look like he just offered to eat you out. shiny eyes, pawing down his chest, finger already hooking in your underwear. 

“head, please,” you say politely, the sweet back and forth that gets you internally giggling at yourself and bakugou always rolling his eyes.

“that’s a word i learnt from you. head. through context clues and all. didn’t learn that at school in japan.” he shakes his head, helping you yank off your underwear. he tucks the fabric under his pillow to find it easily later.

“what would you call it? cunnilingus?” you look at your boyfriend, shirtless and sexy, hike your legs over his shoulders as he ducks down to lay on his stomach between your legs.

“the fuck is that?” he blurts, forcing his eyes from your glistening pussy to your pretty face, hitched up from your pillow.

“the proper word for eating pussy.” you say.

bakugou blinks at you, “repeat it f’me.”

“cunnilingus.”

bakugou repeats it after you as if he’s tasting every syllable on his tongue. though since he’s so close to you, your hips inch up in his face without meaning to.

he ignores you for the time being, “i don’t like that word.”

“w-what would you say?” you ask, licking your bottom lip. despite the rising heat over your body, you’re still curious.

“eating pussy.” he smirks like an idiotic boy that just said a bad word. he spreads your thighs apart, rubbing his cheek against your inner thigh.

“oh. duh,” you laugh flustered, thoughts all on a one track road. he’s so gorgeous. sexy. you wanna drag him up to kiss him, you also wanna be touched. “can you? eat my pussy?”

bakugou says something to you, full japanese with beaming cheeks. his lips curl around every syllable, fluent and unfamiliar to you yet home on katsuki’s tongue. his smile doesn’t let up, he punctuates his comment by kissing your thigh.

“what?” you whimper, breathless just from his mouth close to your centre.

“said you’re a brat.” he translates, spreading you open with his thumbs. damn. he might have to fuck you after.

“yours, though.”

he agrees, looking straight at your wet folds just from a little kissing. he ensures that he says his next words directly to you so there’s no mistranslation, “mine. and i’m yours.”

comments n tags appreciated! part two comments will be deleted.

[snowsmoked]

Shane doesn't understand how lucky he got that his parents didn't come to the All Stars game. Yuna would have taken one look at her dressed up/prettied up son (who has never worn dressy clothes unless contractually obligated) talking to Ilya-heart-eyes-Rozanov who is looking at her boy like he's the love of his life, and she would have clocked their shit immediately. David saw their chemistry just by watching the game on TV. The game probably didn't even show Ilya kissing Shane's helmet because they would have been replaying the goal.

Then all three Hollanders would talk around it without actually talking about it for the rest of the weekend.

"Rozanov actually seems pretty nice in person."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Maybe we could invite him to grab dinner with us."

"No."

"You really hate him that much?"

"No, I just - like, we're not friends or whatever."

"Okay, where should we get dinner then?"

"I can't. I have plans tonight."

"Alright then, you boys have fun."

"What?"

"What?"

[franks23]

I think the day after Shane’s hockey obligations are over for the season, he sleeps for an absurdly long time, just totally dead to the world, really deep, nothing short of the apocalypse is gonna wake him up type shit.

The first year Shane and Ilya live together, when the season ends, Shane goes to sleep and then just doesn’t wake up for a full day. Ilya, obviously, freaks the fuck out, tries to wake him and then when that fails, goes to check his pulse.

Unfortunately for Ilya, because Shane is a ridiculously fit athlete, his resting heart rate is shockingly low (hey Sid Crosby and your 36-38 bpm) and in Ilya’s panic he legit thinks Shane’s dead or at the very least experiencing some kind of heart issue and is in a coma.

Cue Ilya calling an ambulance, convinced his husband is a goner, only for Shane to wake up extremely confused with a room full of strangers and a stretcher next to his bed.

Ilya is, understandably, equal parts distraught and relieved, and Shane is horrifically embarrassed and then has to spend the next week making it up to Ilya because he didn’t give him a heads up that that was likely to happen.

[mymoonandmyshane]

another incredibly tragic thing shane just drops casually happens when he and ilya do a house tour for gq or some shit. the interviewer asks something like “whats the biggest change in your living space since coming out and moving in together” and shane goes “honestly just being able to comfortably live with each other. for a long time we were erasing every tiny detail of ourselves so we wouldnt be caught. but now we can have our wedding pictures on the mantel :)” and everyone dies

[jewelcoatfish]

it is a widely known fact that one should not bother themselves to ask hollanov for any relationship advice because most of the time it involves psychological warfare, but i think the elder centaurs have a more understanding outlook on it compared to the rookies. like young would complain to bood about shane not helpful in the gf advice sector and how they’re insane for doing what they did etc, and bood would glance over and say, “well were you ever afraid of losing your career or passport because you kiss your girlfriend?” and young just 😐 point taken. like the older guys hang out with shane and ilya a lot more often and have watched most of their careers, so i believe they have a more empathetic stance on it all, and the cens overall did find a few particular areas that hollanov are very good at, mostly taking care of your partner

[ladyelspeth14]

in his last year in boston, ilya calls shane’s number a lot, mostly to listen to his boring voicemail message:

hi, you’ve reached shane hollander. i’m sorry i can’t take your call right now. i’ll get back to you as soon as i can. thank you!

one night, with the bribe of a lot of soft kisses, shane finally finds out why he always has so many missed calls from ilya.

“your voice makes me relaxed, shane,” ilya tells him. “is like you’re talking to me. i—i miss you, a lot.”

so shane records a new voicemail greeting every week, referencing something he loves about ilya, or jokes that only ilya could understand.

it became their little secret.

and yuna wonders why shane, who has never changed his voicemail message since he first got a cellphone, is suddenly doing all this.

[jewelcoatfish]

shane looooovesss shaping ilya’s curls into hearts. the problem is they are curls, so a tiny action could send all his work to waste at once, so both shane and ilya has to be very very still for this whole ordeal. usually shane would find curls that already sort of faces each other and guide them to the desired position, but sometimes the curls beat him and he has to find another one. my point is, one time shane makes a whole head of heart curls (this is an exaggeration, he probably made 5 sporadically) on ilya and he snaps a photo of it. it has ilya’s lovesick eyes looking at him too and so it becomes shane’s homescreen wallpaper (his lockscreen is them hoisting the cup together, thank you very much).

they have a fun interview with harris one day and harris asks to see their lock and home screen photos. it goes semi viral on hockey twt and one of the most popular rt was “roz’s ass down horrendously bad for his husband his hair is proclaiming love lmfao”. that was retweeted by bood, accidentally, after laughing and showing it to cassie.

[adorableyak]

I see posts where hockey players see Shane and Ilya being gay and it makes them realise things about themselves sexually. And sure, that can be harmless and fun. But I also think there might be a really dark side to this where players start to process that some of the 'hazing' they went through was actually sexual assault.

Players thinking things like: 'when I got stripped naked by my Junior Hockey team, maybe that wasn't okay actually' (happened most famously to Wayne Gretzky, but to many many other players too.) Junior hockey, especially in the era Shane and Ilya grew up in, was absolutely rampant with that kind of shit, and it still happens, there was a hockey hazing assault case this year, in 2026.

I think seeing Shane and Ilya together challenges this idea of 'it's not sexual because it's hockey and hockey can't be gay' and it really fucks with some players heads. I think they accidently send a bunch of people to therapy.

[bitchass97]

Okay yes we laugh and joke about Ilya never winning an argument in that marriage, but we have proof IN THE SHOW that Shane will not stay mad at him for ANYTHING.

Shane got ghosted for 6 months and after yelling at him for 20 seconds folded under NO PRESSURE and was giggling and cheesing when Ilya came near him. STAND UP