I love the opening of Heated Rivalry so much because it sets up the show and Shane and Ilya's dynamic so perfectly. From "not the most sociable" Shane Hollander actively going out of his way to interact (because he's already fascinated by him) to "not liked outside of his own locker room" Ilya Rozanov being a bit of a cocky shit (which we pretty quickly realise is a front) to the instant spark of attraction.
Look at this man experiencing freckles and awkward Canadian politeness and developing a fat crush.
My favourite part however is as Shane is leaving clearly uncomfortable with how their conversation went (he does a head tilt like "well, that went horribly")
Ilya notices and that's when he chirps, immediately making Shane more comfortable as he chirps back. And thus, their lovingly teasing, when they say "asshole" and "boring" they really mean "I love you" dynamic is born.
Also, yes, Ilya's lighter doesn't spark until Shane appears which is just an additional beautiful touch.
âŚ..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.Â
I broke my car lost 2 phones lost 1K my mother has cancer and my work trip of nyc was just cancelled. I am utterly desperate please good luck post save me
baby Ilyaâs tiny angry Russian ranting when Irina wonât let him stay on the ice and his cheeks are all bright pink and his little nose is wet and heâs 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.
âIt just means you have to work double as hard as most people!â
Well maybe I donât WANT to work double as hard as abled people!! Maybe I deserve a BREAK!! Maybe Iâve been working MORE THAN double as hard for MY WHOLE LIFE and itâs led me to immense burnout & caused me to develop several MORE disabilities!! Maybe I should be ACCOMMODATED so I donât have to KILL MY BODY AND BRAIN over trying to do what abled people can do!! Maybe I DONâT have to work double as hard!! Maybe if thereâs the option to let me NOT work double as hard, I should have it, because Iâm already working double as hard JUST TO SURVIVE!!
Why do you think disabled people deserve less rest than mentally & physically abled people?
bug what's nurse shane up to rn.....i gotta know......
Shaneâs said four words since he woke up fifteen minutes ago. Heâs sat at the counter, stool pulled up to it, hunched tiredly over a bowl of cereal. Heâs in his scrub pants and no shirt, as usual for pre shift dinner to avoid any spills or smells on his top.
Ilya is leant in the doorway of Shaneâs kitchen. Heâd finished his short shift at three in the afternoon, been at Shaneâs place by half past.
Heâd let himself in quietly, (using the key Shane had given him two months ago now to come go and he pleased) very careful as he moved around the home, to stay quiet and not wake Shane from his pre night shift sleep as he changed into the sweats he bought with him.
Shane would be up at four thirty to stretch, shower, do his skincare change and then out in the kitchen by five. Ilya had folded and stacks Shaneâs clothes from the dyer, and filled Shaneâs waterbottle while he waited for his boy to wake up.
Theyâd have and hour and half before Shane would have to leave before shift, it wasnât much, but Ilya hadnât seen Shane outside of in passing at work in a few days and heâd missed him. The chance to kiss and cuddle and sit with his boy was worth it. Ilya was curled up on the couch when the door to Shaneâs bedroom clicked open, and his Shane had shuffled out, in his scrub pants and socks, rubbing at his right eye with his fist.
Ilya had gotten so absorbed in real housewives that heâd not even realised the time, and his eyes darted to his phone. His stomach flipped a little at the 5:21 on the screen. Ilyaâs eyes darted back to Shane, who had come to a stop at the end of the couch. Heâd leant down and pressed his lips on Ilyaâs head, mumbled âhi babyâ and sniffled before shuffling onward to the kitchen before Ilya could reply.
Ilya watched the slump of his retreating boyfriends back. This was bad, late out of bed and no kiss on the lips. Ilya had managed to sit still for all of five minutes before he was climbing off the couch and following after Shane. He wanted to give him space, to wake up, to settle, to seek out Ilya when he was ready for him. But Ilya had missed him, and a Shane out of pattern was unpredictable.
It bought them to now, Ilya leant in the door with Shane bringing spoonfuls of cereal to his mouth, the soft clink of his spoon and the distant noise of the tv the only sound in the room.
âSleep okay?â Ilya asked softly, and then went about making Shaneâs pre shift coffee- half to do something with his hands and half because Shane was already late to get up, late to have his coffee in hand warm and fresh ti help wake him up.
âMmhmâ Shane hummed, nodded, muffled a yawn into his hand.
âWork ok?â Shane asked then, voice low and scratchy with sleep. Ilya turned to look at him as the coffee machine spluttered and spilled smooth coffee into Shaneâs mug. Shane had a pillow crease down his cheek, his eyes were hazy with the edges of sleep, chest flushed with sleep warmth. Ilya wanted to bundled him up whole, maybe bite him a little. Maybe kiss and suck at the warm skin of his neck while he got him all cosy in his lap and touched him until that bunch of his shoulders dropped and the loosened into something softer, warmer, loose limbed.
Shane looked at him with expectant brows and Ilya bit down a smile as he turned the espresso shot into an iced long black. Of course Shane would check on him with the few words he managed to get out, those somehow worked past the tangle in his brain.
âWas good, not too busyâ Ilya shrugged and crossed the kitchen to place the coffee in front of Shane, looked down at the grumbly shape of his boyfriend, he could feel his stewing radiating off him. Ilya placed a gentle hand on the back of Shaneâs neck, rubbed the pads of his fingers up against Shaneâs hairline. He dipped his head to kiss the top of Shaneâs head.
âThank youâ Shane mumbles and its wobbly, and ha lingers, pets at Shaneâs neck but Shane doesnât lean back into him, doesnât chat to him about last nights shift in slow hazy words, doesnât catch Ilyaâs hand to hold while he eats. Ilya hums, and pulls back.
Sometimes his Shane is quiet and sometimes his Shane needs space; especially on his last shift on a block of nights. Ilya is familiar with the way they untangle you, leave you spacey and backwards. Like youâre jet lagged or a toddler or a tiny bit drunk and hungover at the same time.
Ilya strolls out of the kitchen and goes to mute the tv, incase the sound is too much, and then goes to his bag for the three item heâd thrown in there for Shane this morning. He wordlessly makes his way back to the kitchen where Shane is rinsing his bowl, his backpack sitting unzipped on the bench, now containing his lunch bag.
Ilya places the small box of peppermint tea inside the bag (Shane said it helped with the bloating and nausea he sometimes got on nights and shane had texted Ilya with many sad faces that he was out of it last night) and well Ilya had stock for Shane at his place so it just made sense to bring some.
He lays the jumper he has in his arms over the top of the bag. It was Ilyaâs, a sweatshirt heâd had for years, worn in thin and comfortable, soft in that way that only came with time. Shaneâs favoured jumper to take of Ilyaâs when they were at his place. Shane could decide if he wanted it for work- but at least the offer was there.
Ilya takes himself back to the couch, sits down and clicks the volume up to a soft murmur. Tells himself that heâs doing well not to hover, even though he kind of needs a smile and a kiss from Shane before he leaves to feel confident that is boy is alright. But then again, maybe heâs simply too tired for that- or overstimulated by Ilyaâs presence. And yes Ilyaâs missed his boy, but even if his time with Shane, being in Shaneâs orbit consisted of only this, that was okay- they knew, time together between shifts like this, in overlap, they were just whatever they could find energy to be together.
Two weeks ago Ilya had come home with such a migraine post work that date night with Shane had been a cool shower and then laying in the dark of Ilyaâs room in silence with the fan on, not touching because Ilyaâs skin felt throbby.
A week before that, both post a 12hr day they had drunk wine directly from one shared bottle, and ate Thai food on the floor in front of the tv as they ranted about their equally fucking cursed days. It would change, what they needed but, what they needed would always be from each other, to exist together.
Ilya is halfway through a text to Sveta, when he suddenly blinks and oh, thatâs a lap full of Shane. Heâs warm and heavy and no longer shirtless, in his scrub top and Ilyaâs jumper and heâs shoving his face into Ilyaâs neck, tucking his arms in between their chests and his thigh pressing to either side of Ilya.
Ilya lets out a soft breathless laugh, knocked out of him the the weight of Shane, but then, then he feels the ripple of Shaneâs shoulders, hears his big drawing breath in the way itâs coming faster than usual. Oh. Oh Shane.
âHey, heyâ Ilya is cooing, his hand is soothing over the back of Shaneâs silky soft hair, other arm wrapping tightly around his waist, pressing Shane into his chest.
âHeyâ ilya coos, low, draws out the vowel and tucks his face down against the side of Shaneâs face. Ilya focuses his breathing, makes it slow and gives Shane a moment before he rushes in with questions, gives him space for words.
âI just-â Shaneâs voice wobbles where itâs tucked into the space between Ilyaâs jaw and collarbones.
âI just want to go to bed with youâ Shane gets out, voice small, and thereâs a tiny sniffle and then heâs perfectly quiet. It makes Ilyaâs stomach ache. Ilya can imagine Shaneâs stubborn wet lash line, the way heâs refusing to let tears fall. His stubborn, exhausted sweetheart.
âItâs fine Iâm ok.â Shaneâs voice is flat
âI donât know maybe I could be tired, but last night wasnât so busy, nothing bad, just. Iâd just really like to go to bed with you right now and fall asleep togetherâ Shane explains and Ilya nods, nods, begins to gently sway them side to side.
Ilya wants to tell Shane to call in sick, to just put himself first please and let his body get some rest. It gets like this for Shane, handling the long hours- juggling it with workouts and seeing friends and dinners with his parents and helping his dad fix the deck and doing it all, till the exhaustion finds him suddenly and he just, gets heavy, slow- and frustrated with himself for feeling effects of the full life he has, the standards he holds himself too. Ilya has to remind him, at times the large stretches of sleep that Shane has surrendered for years. How it might be okay to be exhausted.
But Ilya knows Shane, his Shane, and knows that telling him to stop is futile, trying to persuade him that he could call in, come to bed with Ilya, the unit would be okay, wouldnât fly with Shane, especially not so close to shift. Ilya knows how important work was to Shane, and that Shane is important to that place. That he cared, it mattered to him, showing up and being present, helping. Being reliable. Most of the time Ilya could just make himself a soft place for Shane to land, to come apart, to need, even if for a short while, to try and fill the exhausted spaces of him, hold him up.
âItâs been a little while huh?â Ilya agrees, (it had been four days, and even one felt too long to Ilya so he was helpless to do anything but agree) and starts his kisses, from the top of Shaneâs ear all along his hairline, nose brushing in his hair with the pecks.
âStupid hospitalâ Ilya adds, and it gets a small scoff laugh from Shane who nods. âStupid hospitalâ he mumbles because itâs easier, to blame the building than all the other parts of it.
âI miss youâ Shane adds, and Ilya nods, cups Shaneâs face in his palms and eases him back from his neck, keeps him close and looks down at him, drops his neck to drop little kisses over Shaneâs brow, the high of his cheeks. Ilyaâs hand slides to the back of Shaneâs neck and starts rhythmic squeezes.
âAnd I woke up. I donât know angry? Or just-â Shane waves a hand. âFrustrated. I kept waking up through the day and I was I thought it was- I kept rolling over or reaching out expecting to find you in bed but then Iâd remember andâ Shane shrugs and blinks his eyes half open, eyes heavy and brow frowny as he looks up at Ilya.
âThen it took me ages to wake up cause I was groggy and then I didnât even say hi to you properly when you came here from work and pushed back going to the gym just to see me before shift and itâs just because I was feeling sorry for myse-â
âI miss you tooâ Ilya interrupts, leaning in to knock noses with Shane, lingering in his space. His pinkies tuck down past the neck of Shaneâs shirt, fidget against the skin.
âBenjamin does not cuddle like youâ Ilya teases and he sees a tiny smile flicker at the corner of Shaneâs lips at the mention of Benjamin.
Benjamin was a giant stuffed bear Shane had won Ilya on their fifth date at an old refurbished arcade in the city. The thing was stupidly large but Shaneâs heart had felt stupidly large at the time; heâd wanted to show off, to win the dumb biggest prize for the cute boy he was on a date with.
The game had aptly been called âBenjaminâs Hammerâ with a scarily drawn off brand imitation of the marvel character of Thor that was distinctly off putting, not to mention the strangely out of place name. They could have at least tried to go with a name similar to Thor.
Ilya had whispered to Shane that Benjamin seemed more like a man youâd find in a cross fit gym than a super hero and Shane had agreed. The weird characters six fingers did confirm Shaneâs suspicions it has been made by AI. His cape was too short and eyes weirdly formed, a smile that was sinister. Of course they had to play it; they decided.
The âgameâ had consisted of using the large wooden hammer to swing and hit the target as hard as you could. The harder the hit, the higher the score, the bigger the prize.
Ilyaâs smile had been blinding when Shaneâs swing had pushed the red light just shy of the top of the large screen that displayed the force of the swing. It had somehow grown even more when Shane had selected the too big bear and passed it into Ilyaâs arms with a shy smile. Ilya had thanked him with a kiss to the cheek, a sigh of âmy hero, my Benjaminâ Shane had replied âewâ at being compared to knock off Thor and dug his fingers into Ilyaâs side but his flush had gone down his neck.
Ilya lugged the large brown bear around on his back the rest of the night, proudly declaring his name to be Benjamin of course. The large soft floppy dark coloured bear had taken residence in Ilyaâs flat since then, usually sat in the armchair in his room or at the end of his bed (in his bed when he was missing the warm figure of Shane beside him most).
âI think you love him more than meâ Shane grumbles and Ilya nods, unable to help but tease, and presses a feather light kiss to Shaneâs nose, then his top lip. âVery much soâ he whispers and wraps his whole hand over the back of Shaneâs tense neck, massaged with his full hand working, firm presser and watches Shaneâs eyes flutter.
Shane whines and huffs and oh his poor tired boy. Ilya kisses his top lip again, then his bottom lips pulls back just enough for Shane to tilt his chin up to chase his mouth and then kisses him properly, slow and soft, a hungry lick of his tongue that Shane returns, tightens his arms around Ilyaâs shoulders. He tastes like coffee and the sweet residue of cereal. Ilya kisses Shane until he feels his neck and head slacken in Ilyaâs grip, feels the weight of his head back into his palm.
Ilya hums against Shaneâs mouth and pulls back, bites down his smile when Shaneâs head lulls closer to him as if hypnotised.
âShaneâ Ilya whispers and Shane blinks his eyes open, small frown working its way back between his brows.
âWhatâ he asks, and Ilya kisses the crease of his brow.
âI do not love Benjamin more than you, he is just an affair, for when my lover is busy being be very important at his jobâ Ilya whispers and he feels a small laugh draw from Shane.
âBesides he does not wear glasses soâ Ilya shrugs, sucks his teeth. âIs no contestâ he concludes and Shane whines, that annoyed sound when Ilya carries on. Ilya loves it.
âOkay okayâ Ilya concedes and then twists and lays back on the couch, shane curled on top of him.
His eyes flicker to Shaneâs Apple Watch, 5:52pm
Shane nuzzles his face into Ilyaâs throat and Ilyaâs hand is steady massaging over Shaneâs neck, pressing out along the lines of his shoulder with steady pressure of his fingers.
They donât have enough time for Ilya to bring Shane back to himself the way he wants to, the way they both know works best, doesnât have time to let his Shane get the full sleep he needs, doesnât have the ability to give Shane what he wants, a night together just them, falling asleep at the same time. So he problem solves.
âHere is planâ Ilya says and he feels Shane hum, nod slightly Ilya distantly thinks of those videos of owners saying dogs favourite words in front of them, how they perk up and their ears twitch. Ilya values his safely so he doesnât voice this thought.
âI will drive you to work, we will leave at 6:45 yes because you will not need extra time for parking so extra time for us. Then you will work and it will be okay, and you can keep my jumper so you are warm and is like I am not far. I will go to gym very nice and early and then come and pick you up, we will come home, have gross smoothie you like and eggs on toast that I like and then we will shower, and then I will fuck you to sleep yes?â Ilya keeps his voice low and calm, washing it over Shane like the ocean pushing in, the movements of his hands on Shaneâs neck and back rhythmic, his breathing steady.
âWe will sleep, together, in bed, us- and then when we wake up we can go for a walk or to sauna or to the couch to watch a movie or we stay in bed and I fuck you some moreâ Ilya shrugs listing Shaneâs prefers post last night shift activity. âYou will pick from these options- what you want and I will make happenâ Ilya kisses the shell of Shaneâs ear, slides his hand down to press and rub at his lower back.
âYou do the next twelve hours and then Iâve got you for the next whole day okay? You just let me have youâ Ilya mumbles the instruction, hand slides to Shaneâs hip and holds, rubs his thumb.
âYes?â Ilya prompts and Shane nods, nods, his hands are fisted into Ilyaâs shirt, breathing steady and even.
âYeah. Pleaseâ Shane replied and illya kisses kisses kisses the crown of his head.
âOkayâ Ilya confirms and feels Shane snuggle down into him, loose like some of the strings pulling him have slackened.
âOkayâ Shane echoes, the slightest lilt to his voice that makes it fall like Ilya says the word. It makes Ilya kiss his head, makes something warm like pride pulse in his chest.
âGood boyâ Ilya whispers, a secret for just them and his hand slides up to Shaneâs ear, rubs over the shape of it, his earlobe.
Shane shivers against him, yawns so wide it makes his jaw click.
Ilya checks the time again, eyes on Shaneâs watch. 6:04pm
âIâll get you up when we need to go okay?â Ilya mumbles, waits till he feels Shane nod. He wishes he could put Shane on his knees for the next half an hour or so, take his brain out of where it was rattling, but he knows there is no chance Shane would be in the right headspace to work after that. But this, this was good too. A moment of rest, a moment together.
âIâm right here, just rest nowâ Ilya whispers and pushes his hand up under Shaneâs scrubs and his jumper, palm flat against warm skin, rubbing wide steady circles.
Ilya tilts his face down, nose to the top of Shaneâs head and closes his eyes, not worried about falling asleep, not when he had the job of looking after his Shane, looking over him while he got to rest with Ilya. A moment of something warm and true and real to take into his shift with him, something Shane could keep tucked against his chest when it got to the seven hour of decision making, being in control, in charge, calculating and compassionate and alert and open and ready.
When it got too much. Like a worry stone Shane could rub his thumb over and over and over and over, smooth from use, this memory of being soft and warm and held. Safe.
Ilyaâs chest tingled with the delight of helping Shane carrying the weight of it all- the everything- and he let the steady sound of Shaneâs breathing clear his mind as he focused on the weight and warmth and smell of his boy, his favourite person in the world, right there safe against his chest.
andrew minyard never skips therapy. his best friend is a born-again knife-wielding christian ex-gangster. his other best friend is a 6'2" lacrossehockey prodigy/recovering alcoholic with a face tattoo. he doesn't smile. his situationship got him to stop doing drugs by buying him a maserati. he didn't meet his own twin brother until they were fifteen years old. he's been to jail. he is five feet even. he's the best goalie in the league and he couldn't care less. he gets in the shower fully clothed to give neil josten a blowjob. he's a chainsmoking pro athlete. he killed his own mother. he's getting a criminal justice degree as a joke. he picked the guy with a dozen fake names and a mafioso daddy to be with forever. he's a scorpio. the closest thing he's ever had to a father is his college exy coach. he loves hot chocolate and ice cream and clubbing with his cousin.
thinking about jeremy being forced to stay home with his family the night before the trojansâ most important game while his brother destroys every jersey he owns. ripping fabric apart right in front of him while jeremy just watches with tears burning his eyes because no matter how cruel his brother gets, jeremy cannot imagine hurting him back. never raise a hand, never scream loud enough, he only knows how to endure it quietly.
so the next day he shows up wearing a red shirt, the closest thing he has to the team colors. and when his teammates ask where his jersey is, he laughing softly pretending everything is fine even though the shadows under his eyes tell another story entirely. but cat notices. laila notices. jean notices most of all.
and right before everyone walks onto the field, jean stops him inside the locker room and silently hands him a jersey "MOREAU 29" jeremy looks up so fast, stunned speechless, but jean is already gone before he can ask why.
so that day there are two Moreau on the field.
just like there will be years later, after jeremy officially takes jean's last name and before their first game together he cups jean's face in both hands and kisses him hard enough to steal the air from his lungs, thanking him for that moment years ago. for making him realize that having Moreau on his back made him feel stronger. just like the man who had carried it his entire life.
It actually is so important to me that Ilya and Shane have soft time together. Donât get my wrong I love them being snarky and teasing each other and talking shit (with love) to each other, or fucking nasty with Ilya bullying (with love) Shane during sex but like. I could absolutely read a fic, 1mil words and counting of them just being quiet and soft with each other, speaking just in looks and touches and the knowledge of who your partner is as a person. Soft words and softer pet names and declarations of love and subtle acts that show love. Iâm unwell. I need a doctor. Someone call an ambulance and yes itâs for me.
The thing is, yeah they bully the fuck out of each other, tease each other, play with each other, be stupid and snarky and silly. But !!! They are each other babies. Letâs be so real. They love each other so much, they are devotional to each other and there is nothing they wouldnât do for each other.
Shaneâs in bed with a migraine, a tension headache that had spiraled. Shane maybe got them once or twice a month- his physiotherapist tells him itâs because of how he holds his neck and shoulders so tight, how he grinds his teeth in his sleep. The pain of it is horrible, burns up from behind his eyes like barbed wire around his temples, back through his skull and down his aching neck. Everything sucks- light, sound, hard smells. Ilyas seen enough of them now to know the drill. Bedroom dark, aircon blasting, rain sounds because silence rings worse, a cold cloth for the back of his neck and head and an icey freezing cold can of ginger ale to sip at. Most importantly, Ilya sat with him. Shaneâs head in his lap, fingers gently tracing his brow. Soft whispers of, âitâs okay babyâ âjust wait, the medications will set in so good itâs ok. Iâve go youâ his voice soft sweet low and warm. âYouâre okay here, itâll settle baby, Iâm gonna stay here just let yourself sleepâ his voice low and warm and so full of love.
Ilya when heâs having a bad day, and Shane is just with him through it. He makes his breakfast, small picky parts that Ilya could slowly make his way through, whatever he felt like. Shane who holds his hand and asks Ilya to sit with him outside for a while if that okay? Because Shane knows, Shane knows it helps him, the fresh air, some sun. They sit on the couch outside, Ilya eventually curls himself down to lay his head on Shaneâs lap, face hidden in his tummy. Shaneâs hand on Ilyaâs back, nails gently scratching up and down the length of his back.
âYou wanna sleep honey?â He breaths, and Ilya nods and Shane says âokayâ And Ilya fusses a little, getting comfortable and then asks âcan you talk to me?â And Shane nods and he does, tell Ilya soft and low about his call with his dad last night, about what heâs thinking about making them for dinner. When Ilya goes sleepy and heavy, breaths evening out, Shane leans down and kiss kiss kisses all over Ilyaâs handsome face.
They are tangled up on the couch together, half asleep, Ilyaâs face shoved in Shaneâs neck, nuzzling nuzzling at the warm skin. Shane is playing with his curls and smirking, whispers in his ear thatâs heâs like a puppy and Ilya huffs, nips at Shaneâs throat and growls a little. âMy puppyâ shane coos and pulls Ilyaâs face back to kiss kiss kiss all over it.
quarterly reminder that if i reblog something ai-generated it is 110% and always an accident and for the love of god please tell me so i can delete it from my blog
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