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Shane and Ilya go out for coffee a little while after they're outed and it's not until they're home and have parked the car in the driveway and are walking up to the door that Shane suddenly realizes:

"I think that was our first date."

Ilya frowns at him. "What?"

"I mean, kind of?" Shane says. "At least our first date in public."

Ilya stops to consider and realizes that holy shit, Shane might be right. Still, "It was just coffee. If I am taking you on a date, it will be somewhere much nicer. Someplace with candles."

Shane shrugs. "I've heard coffee is a pretty classic first date activity, actually."

They've reached the door and as Shane goes to unlock it, Ilya leans against the door frame with a teasing grin.

"It was a good date then?" he asks. "Maybe nice enough that you want to invite me in?"

Shane feels a giddy rush and has to fight to suppress his smile. "I don't know. I'm pretty sure that's more of a third date activity."

"You are Mr. Dating Expert now?"

"Just don't want you to think I'm easy."

"You are easy," Ilya says, wrapping his hand around Shane's waist and tugging him in close for a kiss.

Shane hums into the kiss happily, clutching Ilya's shoulder when he trails his lips down the column of Shane's neck. "Just for you."

my-castles-crumbling

attached - hollanov - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 485 - click here for my hollanov microfic archive on ao3

“You’re being an idiot,” Shane said to himself firmly as he glared at his utterly miserable-looking reflection in the rearview mirror, trying not to break down in the middle of the highway. “You’re being stupid.”

It wasn’t the best pep talk he’d ever given himself, but it was doing the job of helping him keep himself together.

It was just…he felt like he was dying. Like he’d left a crucial piece of himself on the curb at the airport. Like the small, halfhearted wave he’d given to Ilya as he’d driven off (because he couldn’t exactly kiss him, could he?) had just made this entire thing so much worse.

His chest was aching, his heart hammering, his eyes stinging, his stomach churning…it felt like he’d been checked hard into the boards, the wind knocked out of him, and he was wheezing on the cold ice, disoriented and alone.

The worst part?

They’d both known this was coming. They’d known they would have to go back to this, that their time at the cottage would end. It was so stupid, to get so attached, when now he felt the real world overtaking him. Sure, they’d made promises. Daily texts and facetime dates as much as possible. Monogamy and meetups whenever their schedules allowed. But did Ilya actually want that? With him?

The panic quickly overtook the misery, his heart thrumming in his throat.

“Fuck!” Shane hissed furiously, slamming his palm on the steering wheel, the first tear spilling over onto his cheek as he swerved a little.

He was suddenly so terrified that he almost didn’t hear his phone ring. But when he looked over to see the word Lily on the screen, he nearly drove off the road trying to answer in time.

“Ilya,” he muttered desperately as soon as the line connected, unable to hide his emotions, hide the panic in his voice. The tears were falling thick and fast now and a quickly swiped at them with the hand holding his phone, trying not to cause an accident.

“Shane,” Ilya responded.

And…oh.

He sounded just as bad.

Hollow and wrecked and devastated.

Was it bad that Shane’s panic subsided a bit at that?

“I…how are you?” he asked, taking a huge breath and trying to calm himself.

But Ilya’s wry chuckle made his whole being hurt, his skin call for the other man’s touch. “Is stupid,” he murmured, “I miss you already.”

Shane let out a watery laugh. “Oh thank fuck,” he breathed, shaking his head. “Me, too.”

Ilya began laughing with him, filling Shane with aching longing. “You have ruined me, malysh,” he muttered in a tone that sounded almost adoring. “I…am not sad about this.”

“Same here.”

They laughed again, amusement almost harmonizing, making Shane feel warm, easing the pain.

So by the time they hung up, Shane could breathe again. It would be hard, but they could do this. Together.

pavlmescal

Heated Rivalry | 1x06 - The Cottage

my-castles-crumbling

constellation - hollanov - @hollanovmicrofic - slightly NSFW - word count: 314 - click here for my hollanov microfic archive on ao3

They’d never had time for a lot of after. Usually, things were rushed–either because of flights or because they were hiding feelings. So, as Shane lay, sated and smiling, with Ilya mostly on top of him, he enjoyed the warmth, the glow, the ability to bask in the after.

It was as he did this, hands drifting lightly over Ilya’s soft, sculpted back, that his eyes were drawn to the moles dotting his skin.

Dazedly, mind still in the clouds, he began tracing. Connecting constellations from mark to mark, admiring the beauty of the man collapsed on top of him as Ilya breathed. His heart felt so full, his chest aching with adoration, the desire to put into words the feelings he had for this man nearly overtook Shane. Fuck, he loved Ilya so much. It was indescribable. Painful in its purity.

But as the words pushed at the inside of his lips, begging to be let out, Ilya began to shiver, so Shane froze, his fingers stuttering. “Are you okay?” he murmured, crooking his neck, a little concerned. “If you don’t want–”

But Ilya interrupted. “Don’t stop,” he muttered, voice gruff and thick, his face pressed insistently into Shane’s neck.

That was when Shane felt it–Ilya’s body again responding to his touch, his arousal making itself known on his thigh.

“Oh,” he whispered, smiling triumphantly, allowing his fingers to continue. “You like it.”

But Ilya’s next words stole his breath away.

“Nobody…nobody has ever touched me like this before,” Ilya admitted, face still hidden, hips rocking a bit now.

Shane bit his lip, resisting the sudden, ridiculous urge to cry. Fuck. How long had it been since Ilya Rozanov had been loved?

But then it occurred to him almost instantly after that: he had loved Ilya Rozanov for a long time. He just finally had the space to do something about it now.

hollandar

hudson admiring connor's physique + wanting to get as big as him

(sources below)

my-castles-crumbling

radiant - hollanov - @hollanovmicrofic - word count: 389 - slightly NSFW - click here for my hollanov microfic archive on ao3

The girl on Ilya Rozanov's arm was absolutely radiant.

Silky hair, a curvy frame, and eyes rimmed with makeup that made them pop, she was clearly the type of woman most men fantasized about. She also was clearly interested in Ilya, as she hung onto his elbow like it was a life raft, giggling and flipping her hair, batting her eyelashes and touching his chest.

She was exactly the type of person that, for years, Shane had heard about Ilya going home with.

It was hard to avoid the pictures, the rumors, the locker room talk. Ilya was...well...well-known for his trysts. Even through his jealousy, Shane had never blamed him–they hadn't been exclusive, and Ilya had never been known for treating women badly so who was he to judge?

But now that they were dating?

He was doing his very best not to set the world on fire.

He knew Ilya didn't have much choice. They were still a secret, after all, and Ilya wasn't actually doing anything with the girl. They'd agreed to still be social with their teams, to keep up pretenses. This was all according to plan. What was more, as they both stood at opposite ends of the bar, reluctantly dragged out to indulge after a tied game with their teams, Ilya actually looked like he was trying to gently let her down, stepping away little-by-little and sending an oblivious Marleau pointed looks.

But it wasn't good enough for Shane. Ilya was his. And suddenly, he needed both of them to know it. Now.

Skin hot, heart racing, dick already hard in his pants, he stood, murmuring a goodbye to Hayden and pulling out his phone.

Shane: Fuck this. My place. Now. Tell her you're fucking taken.

Pausing by the door, he turned to watch Ilya, who pulled his phone from his pocket casually, attention pulled between the girl and the message, then read over the text Shane had sent.

His whole body went rigid. A hungry grin spreading over his face, he immediately pulled away from the girl so fast she tripped, nearly falling to the ground. Then, ripping his jacket from the barstool it hung on, Ilya strode toward the door, their eyes locking.

Shane grinned.

Ilya licked his lips.

In ten minutes, they would forget about everything but each other.

hollandar

hudson admiring connor's physique + wanting to get as big as him

(sources below)

my-castles-crumbling

missed - hollanov - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 408 -click here for my hollanov microfic archive on ao3

*One Missed Call - Lily*

As soon as Shane saw the words flashing across his screen, his stomach clenched.

Sure, he and Ilya called, now. They'd talked on the phone a few times while he was in Russia, they'd done things, even, and spoken about the difficult time Ilya was having. But now that Ilya was back in North America, Shane wasn't sure of the rules. Surely, there had to be a reason for Ilya calling. Was something horribly wrong?

So, distracted, preoccupied, and a little scared, he quickly showered after practice, putting his things away with more haste than normal and speed-walking to his car, hardly bothering to say goodbye to Hayden before he drove away from the rink, caling Ilya as he did.

"Hello?"

Fuck.

The way his body relaxed at the low cadence of the other man's voice, the way he felt the anxiety seep right out of his exhausted muscles...it couldn't be good. He was probably in trouble.

"I--Ilya?" he asked, trying to still focus on the road.

"Shane."

And Ilya sounded so happy to hear him, too. Like his voice was also a balm for aches of life.

He wasn't sure if that made things better or worse.

"Hey," he murmured. "I...are you okay? You called."

"Yes, I am fine." Now Ilya sounded unsure. "I just...is it okay I called anyway? I wanted to hear you."

Oh fuck. It was ridiculous, but tears were forming in his eyes without his permission. "No. I mean, yeah. It's okay," he mumbled. "I like hearing your voice, too."

Ilya let out a huff of air, both of them now just breathing quietly, the silence tenuous, full of things neither of them were ready to admit.

Ilya was braver. He broke the silence. "We will beat you in game tomorrow," he murmured, but his tone sounded fond.

Shane let out a startled laugh, relief and affection and--fuck--adoration flooding his senses. "In your dreams, Rozanov."

But the little 'Da' Ilya muttered seemed like an admission, not a teasing remark.

So Shane decided to go out on a limb. "Uh...after the game. You could come over? To my actual apartment?" he asked, body thrumming as he pictured Ilya in his actual bed, sitting on his actual couch.

The other man's grin was apparent, even on the other end of the phone. "Yes. I think so," he replied.

Shane smiled to himself.

Yeah.

He was definitely fucked.

handsywoman

ILYA ROZANOV’S RULES FOR HAPPY RELATIONSHIPS:

№24: keep your bottom’s tits squeezed and nipples pinched. Daily pectoral stimulation leads to an increased level of endorphins and an overall happy glow.

note from the author: while in an argument, the tit squeeze tactic of calming only works 50% of the time. The effectiveness of the method depends on the severity of the argument and if used amiss might result in an even bigger confrontation 😔

hotvampireadjacent

ilyashaneconnorhudson

bisexualrozanov

# bisexual terminator's eyes locking onto his target

mrmnn

Well you can't get what you want, but you can get me, So let's set out to sea, love, 'Cause you are my medicine, When you're close to me

brigid-faye

“You’re so far away,” Shane said, sniffing hard. “I want to rent a car and drive there.”

“Would be a long drive,” Ilya said with amusement, “from Washington.”

“Thirteen hours,” Shane smiled sheepishly. “I looked it up.”

TLG AU - post near crash but Shane does that 👆 after hanging up

spoilers for TLG obvs - just go read it already

Ilya is in a Florida IHOP booth with Harris, Wyatt and Luca Haas and he doesn’t feel real. He knows distantly that this is the combined effect of a hangover and the massive adrenaline crash after the near death experience yesterday. It’s unbearable and he doesn’t care and it feels like it will last forever.

He's been staring out the window at the parking lot without seeing it for probably too long.

“Too bad Chiron isn’t here,” Harris jokes. “That would cheer everyone up.”

Ilya’s mind fills with terrified puppy noises and his attention snaps back to his companions. “Then Chiron would have been on the plane. What the fuck, Harris? He would have been so scared!”

Harris puts his hands up, startled. “I was just saying. A puppy would be nice right now.”

Ilya glares and takes a bite of his toast and feels completely justified but also like he needs to bury himself in his phone. He pulls it out of his pocket while Harris tries to be cheerful.

He finds texts from Shane, the first of the day. They came in just a few minutes ago. Ilya feels his pulse lower and loses track of the conversation around him.

J: I did something stupid J: good morning also J: where are you

L: morning L: harris made us get pancakes L: what did you do?

J: IHOP or Denny’s?

Ilya’s cheek tugs a little like he might smile. He only ordered black coffee and toast for himself - he had no appetite - but maybe he'll take a picture of Luca's pile of whip cream just to gross Shane out. He's not sure why it matters if it's IHOP or Denny's (Florida is ridiculous, the two places are right next to each other in a hideous parking lot across the street from the hotel) and he doesn't care; he likes that Shane is texting like normal and not like they were both crying over facetime 12 hours ago.

I: IHOP, thank god, I could not have dealt with denny’s bacon today

J: oh good J: wyatt, luca and harris are cool right? Like they’re not… dallas kent?

I: they're cool

Ilya frowns after hitting send and scrolls back up through the short conversation. He never told Shane who he was sitting with.

I: shane... I: what stupid thing did you do?

There's a timid knock on the glass door of the restaurant, the one Ilya was staring out of minutes ago. He looks up again very slowly.

Shane Hollander is standing there in the Florida sun looking exhausted and anxious. He's in pajama pants and a McGill hoodie. There's luggage on the sidewalk next to him. He's shifting his weight from one foot to the other like a kid who has to pee. His face splits into an overwrought smile when their eyes meet and he waves and then winces at himself and crosses his arms.

"Roz," Wyatt says, "you okay?"

Is he? Probably not. He's hallucinating, which can't be good. Shane is in Washington. Shane's worst fear in the world is being abruptly outed. Shane doesn't like Florida.

Or maybe Shane feels like Ilya does, and all the reasons to stay hidden seem very, very feeble right now, so fuck it all and here he is, waiting for Ilya in broad daylight.

The hallucination knocks again, loud enough for Harris to glance over his shoulder at the door. Harris turns back to Ilya, his eyes wide and his mouth a perfect "o" of surprise.

"Is that... Shane Hollander?" Luca squeaks.

That's enough proof to get Ilya crashing out of the booth and running to the door. Shane pulls it open just as Ilya reaches it.

They collide together and barely keep their feet, stumbling in a circle across the sidewalk, Shane's arms tight around Ilya's neck, face buried against his throat. Ilya knots his hand in soft, dark hair and tries to pull him closer.

"Fuck," Shane is saying, "fuck, you scared me, fuck, fuck fuck-"

"How-how-"

Shane laughs against his skin. "D-don’t ask what I spent on that Uber."

They hold each other in the sunshine for a very long time. Shane's heart pounds against Ilya's chest, and Ilya, for the first time since that plane dropped, feels completely, vividly, joyfully alive.

scunthotter

Here's the thing, Shane doesn't love having to share his relationship with Ilya with the world. But. He does love the fact that now that they work together, and they love together, and they're married, they're automatically on the buddy system for forever.

He never has to worry about who to talk to at an event because he's there with Ilya, he never has to worry about where to sit because he can sit with Ilya, photoshoots and brand meetings are so much less awkward because he brings Ilya or Ilya brings him and they can talk to each other in the downtime. He doesn't have to worry about rooming with a teammate or not rooming with a teammate on the road because he's gonna room with Ilya. He doesn't have to worry about the best time to dip out of a place because Ilya can always make their exit so smoothly and always knows the right time to go. He doesn't have to stress about going to his new teammates house because he's going with Ilya who can handle any social situation smoothly and always includes Shane.

I think they're going to get about 18 months into their new marriage and Svetlana or Troy is going to make a joke about how they're attached at the hip and they're gonna do the math when they get home and realize that the longest they've been apart in a year and a half is the 4 hours that Ilya spent doing a really intense puzzle with David after Shane took an uber home because he was bored.

my-castles-crumbling

ew - hollanov - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 468 - click here for my hollanov microfic archive on ao3

“Is ‘boyfriends’ better?”

Ilya asks as soon as they turn onto a main road, car far enough away that Yuna and David cannot possibly see. The question feels out of left field to Shane, but he can tell that it comes from some train of thought he hasn’t picked up on or isn’t privy to.

“Um…what?” he asks a bit dazedly, still overwhelmed from the past few hours.

He sees Ilya glance at him, then look out the window. “‘Lovers' is no good, yes? ‘Ew,’ you said. ‘Boyfriends’ is…this is okay? To say?”

It hits Shane in that moment that maybe Ilya didn’t completely know the context of the first word. That he hadn’t meant to tease or embarrass. That he, like Shane, had simply been searching for a label for what they meant to each other. Something that encapsulated the overpowering want that they had been experiencing for years, the deep love they’d only been allowing themselves to acknowledge now.

He swallows, trying to find a way to explain. “‘Lovers’...it means…people who fuck,” he says awkwardly, thankful he can keep his eyes on the road and he doesn’t have to look at Ilya for this. “It’s…a nicer word for it. Better than saying ‘fuckbuddy’ or something. But it’s still…” he trails off, nervous to insinuate that for them, it doesn’t feel like enough. Not anymore.

Thankfully, Ilya takes the words from his mouth and makes them a reality. “Is not…enough?” he suggests, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

“I don’t think so,” Shane agrees, nodding with relief.

“No,” Ilya confirms simply. “We love each other, yes? But not lovers. I understand.”

Shane nods again, allowing himself to smile just a little. “But…you said ‘boyfriend.’ You know that would mean, like, not fucking anyone else? Just us? Commitment and shit?” He tries to phrase it in a slightly-humorous way, to mask his fear of being rejected. But really, his heart is cracking his ribs with the way it hammers against them.

But Ilya just shrugs, murmuring, “I am not afraid of this, with you. I only want you, Shane. My boyfriend.”

Suddenly, he can’t breathe properly. He’s fighting back tears and the overwhelming need to kiss Ilya until they’re both breathless. His chest is expanding with the ridiculously delicious feeling of being loved and chosen by his man, and he just wants to float in this moment. His hands clench, his heart sings, a tear drops from his eye and he wants.

And now he can have it, can’t he?

So in a very un-Shane-like moment, he pulls over to the side of a secluded road and throws himself at Ilya, not caring about the occasional car passing by or the fact that this car’s interior was damn expensive.

He just allows himself to have this.

hollanovverse

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