KIROKAZE
almost home
Origami Around
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Janaina Medeiros
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Sweet Seals For You, Always
Kaledo Art
roma★
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One Nice Bug Per Day
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Game of Thrones Daily
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@caprozanov
"𝙄 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚."
carrd ♕ memes ♕ tags ♕ playlist
MATURE CONTENT 21+ only
mutuals only
mix of series and books canon
any dialogue typed in between < > is said in Russian
mutuals can use my wire ➞ ilyarozanov
⫸ trigger warning: some depictions of severe depression
♕ starting line up: @iinmortales | @payingtheprice/@seesgood | @hawkinsingenue | @formerfirstson | @rivaledmuses ( Cliff Marleau )
♕ married to: @caphollander
➠ coached by JT / 30+ / he or she / PST / @hargrove
[]Make a deal with God.... Indie Selective Maxine Mayfield from Netflix's Stranger Things Bee est. 2022
Fuck. He hadn't meant to sound so…mean about it. He just wanted a minute alone, and he felt trapped in this tub, though he appreciated what, exactly, his husband was trying to do. Shane was tense, and the massage and warm water was relaxing, but he couldn't escape the conversation like this, so he had done the first thing that had come to mind. Kicked his husband out of the room, something he had never done.
Which he realizes once the door closes, and Ilya has left him, just as he requested, but done so with a melancholy that lingers in the air. He leans his head back over the edge of the tub, closing his eyes, taking a shaky breath and shaking his head. "Fuck." The tightness that coiled in his chest when he was talking to the therapist that hadn't stopped when he'd sat in his car for almost an hour, or gotten home to his husband.
There's no use sitting here after saying he wanted out, though the water is still warm, meaning it felt more like a waste, particularly because he had been so shut down about it all. He didn't want to do that again, talk about Montreal more than he had to when he had to. It was a place he'd lost: been thrown out of the organization basically, and lost the respect of the fans, and no one really quite seemed to recognize that, not that he was willing to talk about it if they did. He had lost the respect of his teammates, his fans, all because of a trip - which could have happened to anyone. It's just that it happened to him, right after he had been outed with Ilya, which had caused everyone to doubt him.
He does get out, drains the tub, takes a towel and dries off quickly, before going into the bedroom, putting on something comfortable - he highly doubts Ilya wants them to go out anywhere that day, and they have no practice, no game. Ilya had been the one to make sure he chose a day that had no other obligations. Sweatpants, and a Centaurs shirt, before walking out of their room, through the house, seeking out his husband.
He definitely owed him an apology, even if he was still wound up tight, ready to snap, but he cannot figure out how to let that go, how to relax, how to shake the uneasiness in his chest, but he needs to settle Ilya first, because he knows he was rude, he fucked up. Ilya was just trying to help, to relax him, to help him through this. Because Ilya has done this, has spent over a year in therapy himself now.
He has two theories about where to find Ilya, and the latter is more likely, and the one that turns out to be true. He might have preferred to find Ilya just sitting with Anya on the couch watching the end of that action movie, rather than outside smoking a cigarette, but he was hardly surprised. It wasn't as though he didn't know about the pack of cigarettes in the freezer, or that it would miss one when Ilya was having a particularly bad day. Shane takes a deep breath, before walking forward and wrapping his arms around his husband, resting his forehead against the back of other man's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I just needed a minute." Not that it had helped, because he was now dealing with the guilt of how he knew he'd made Ilya feel, but it was true. He just wanted the conversation to change, and he doubted it would just then.
"Can we just make lunch, and then relax? Play a game or watch a movie? I just don't want to talk about it anymore. I'll think about going back, but not today, not right now, okay?" And he will think about it, and probably today, unfortunately, because now he has made that promise. It will be on his mind, even in the back of his mind, until he tells Ilya whether he will or won't make another appointment. He places a kiss to the back of Ilya's neck, before tightening his arms around his waist. "I didn't mean to dismiss you like that."
✘ ♕ ✘ The sound of the sliding glass door opening heralded Shane's appearance on the back porch. Ilya didn't turn, his eyes still trained on a tree in the distance by the edge of the water. Its leaves moved so easily in the wind, giving up complete control and trusting the wind to take over. The warmth of familiar arms wrapping around him caused Ilya to close his eyes and give a small, appreciative hum. He marveled at the way they fit together, as though they were made for one another. It didn't matter which one was hugging who, arms fell perfectly into the grooves and curves of the body, allowing them to almost melt together. Despite everything, whatever mental struggles or fights or miscommunications existed between them, Ilya knew they'd always be okay. Shane's breath warmed the back of his neck and only one word hovered in his mind as he thought of his husband: home.
The apology felt unwarranted. It was true that being told to leave had hurt Ilya, but he also understood (at least tangentially) what the other man was going through. He knew that the last thing Shane would ever want to do was upset him. The gentle kiss on the back of his neck had Ilya leaning further into him. Reaching out, he snuffed the cigarette in the now rarely used ash tray on the table next to them. Then he let his head fall back onto Shane's shoulder, turning slightly to look at him.
"Is okay," he finally replied with a small smile. "Is not easy, what you did today. But I am proud of you." And it was true. Having to leave his husband was heartbreaking and certainly pulled some dark thoughts into his head, but Ilya did understand. There had been times, albeit very rarely, when he'd return from therapy and need to be completely alone. Sometimes he was more than sad; he was agitated and frustrated.
What mattered is that they were together now, in each other's arms. He reached up and over, his fingers running through Shane's soft, black hair. Then he kissed his cheek and decided to let the subject drop. For now, at least. "How about video games? I can beat you for one hundred-thousandth time in Mario Kart." He grinned teasingly as he turned around in Shane's arms, giving him a quick peck on the lips. Though darkness lingered at the corners of his mind, Ilya smiled, pushing it all away. The man in his arms was his light, pulling him back from the depths. As he gazed into those brown eyes that he loved so much, he was reminded again that this wasn't about him. This was about bringing strength to the strongest man he knew. He would do whatever it took for Shane to be happy.
ilya happy trail and bush ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-
「 when it comes to horror movies and such, Ilya actually jumps pretty damn easy. sometimes that can be the fun of it, but he's not usually watching that genre.
in his late teens, though, while his team was in America for a tournament, he came across a Russian translated version of the book Interview With the Vampire. normally he wouldn't be into vampire stuff, but it was the first time he'd ever seen (or read) gay men in media. he found it fascinating and freeing, as though it were proof that his wants were perfectly normal. though that book isn't actually banned in Russia, it's not good to be caught reading (and especially wouldn't be allowed in his household), so he tore off the covers and glued on some other, more "appropriate" cover and took it everywhere with him for that year. it was his companion on long travels and at nights when he couldn't sleep. he doesn't know how many times he read it. though he wasn't able to get ahold of the other books in the series (nor did he want to push his luck with owning them all), this one book was his favorite.
it currently resides in the shoe box he has that contains the few personal items he took from his apartment in Moscow after his father died. 」
「 am....am I here? Am I actually going to write??? hell yeah I am!!
but first, how about a really dumb headcanon that's completely unfounded and not supported by a single thing in canon? 」
[ I like how I thought I was gonna write today. Lol. ]
#caprozanov ✘ ♕ ✘ mutuals only independent rp account
𝙄𝙡𝙮𝙖 𝙍𝙤𝙯𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙫 of crave's & rachel reid's 𝙂𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨 series coached by jt 「 30+ / pst / he or she 」
「 HAPPY PRIDE!!!!! new icon to celebrate the month! I love you all, and whether you're in or out of the closet, not matter what that sexuality and identity is, know that you are VALID!
love,
your neighborhood bisexual bigender menace! 」
HEATED RIVALRY | 1x02 - "Olympians"
➠ @caphollander gets a new roommate for the season
✘ ♕ ✘ A flight from Moscow to Ottawa would be 23 hours, if it were a direct flight. Those, of course, didn't exist. Ilya's full trip with the two layovers (during one of which a late flight made him miss his connection, leaving him stranded in the airport for four unnecessary hours) ended up being closer to 30 hours. At only sixteen years old, he was exhausted and irritable by the time he arrived in Canada. The local time was somewhere just past one o'clock, though he had no idea what time his body thought it was. All he knew was that he was wanted to be asleep as soon as possible.
Everyone he encountered as he made his way through the Ottawa airport was so nice and chipper that it only worsened his terrible mood. He resented everything about the country that he'd been forced to relocate to, completely alone. Last year, at only fifteen years old, he was not only the youngest player on Moscow's junior hockey team, but he was one of the youngest in the whole league. More importantly, he already showed more promise than almost any of the other players. He was going places, and had even been captain for the new season.
Unfortunately, the current season in Moscow had been cut short. They'd only made it one game in before his brother happened to walk in on him being far too intimate with his coach's son. Once alerted, his father got together with his coach, and after much debate about his own life (that of course he had no say in), they decided that he was still too valuable to be taken out of hockey completely. Strings were pulled, and even though the season had already started, it turned out that Ottawa's team had need for a second string center.
Before the teenager even understood what was happening, he was kicked off his team, kicked out of his house, and kicked out of his country, all under the guise of "helping him to refocus on what's important". Demoted from captain and starting line, Ilya was now forced to live in a foreign country who's language he was still trying to grasp, and live with some family he'd never even met.
Not that the billet family system was something new to him. Some of his own teammates (old teammates) lived with host families during the season so that they could play in Moscow. He knew how it worked. As soon as he was told that he'd be staying with another player, he looked up everything he could about the kid. The Hollanders seemed like a typical family living in Ottawa. The dad did something in the government (relatable) and the mom did... he had no idea. But it was the their son that he was interested in. Shane Hollander was the same age as him, and just like him, was already making some waves in the hockey world. Grainy team photos didn't give him a good idea of what he looked like, but that wasn't important. The interesting part is what Ilya saw in the highlight videos. Hollander was good. Very good. He might even give Ilya a run for his money, not that the Russian would admit that.
It was the father who picked up Ilya from the airport. He, just like every Canadian apparently, was far too cheerful as he chatted on about this and that while they drove to his house. The English felt too fast, and with his currently exhausted mind, Ilya could only make out every few words, so he simply stared out the window, looking at the place that was to be his new home for the next few months.
Once they arrived, Ilya got out of the very boring car and grabbed his suitcase. Mr. Hollander got his hockey bag full of his gear before leading the way up to the front door. The house was beautiful, looking like something out of an American TV show. What really struck Ilya was all the space around the house. Where he grew up in Moscow, there weren't many trees. It was buildings stacked on top of buildings, full of people. He never hated it, always enjoying the constant thrum of energy and the comforting chaos that never let life get dull.
This was unlike anything he was used to. There were trees everywhere, birds singing and flying from branch to branch. The driveway was long and the neighbors felt so far away. Truly, it was gorgeous.
As they walked inside, David removed his shoes, so Ilya followed suit. While the older man walked further into the house, he stayed close by the entrance, taking it all in. "We're home!" David announced, making Ilya flinch a little. This wasn't his home and he was sure it would never feel like it. A pang of sadness shot through him as he realized that his own home no longer wanted him, which now left him with nothing. He pushed it aside, schooling his features.
Then his eyes caught sight of him. Shane Hollander. It had to be. Ilya had looked up everything about him that he could. What position he played, the awards he'd won, how long he'd been playing, his age and height, all of it. What google hadn't told him was how beautiful Hollander was. Soft jet black hair, warm dark eyes, muscular build, but most importantly, those freckles. Scattered across his nose like a constellation of stars. Ilya couldn't help but wonder if this was some sort of sick joke played by the universe. Kicked out of his own home because he was caught fooling around with a boy, only be moved into into a home where the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen lives.
Blyat.
All of these thoughts were locked tight behind an expression of cold indifference as he simply stared, taking in his full surroundings with an air of boredom and disappointment.
☆☆☆☆ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs - it's time to spread positivity! ☆☆☆☆
「 BERRY!! You're one of MY favorites!!! 💛🖤💛🖤 」
「 ➠ while in juniors, Ilya moves to Canada and moves in with his billet family, the Hollanders.
ok, so I'd have actually have to do some research into this system, because honestly, I'm still learning about the hockey world and all I really know is what we saw in Tough guy. but like, maybe at 16, he was discovered with Sasha. so, as a way to save face for the family and keep Ilya's sexuality from being noticed by the public/government (and a desperate attempt to "save" his son), Grigori kicks him out and sends him to Canada to play on that team.
total work in progress, but I'm willing to plot it out. 」
[ why are we not calling it The Tuna Meltdown?? ]
he almost fell over when ilya pushed him. it was unexpected, and it hurt, hitting shane in the pit of his stomach. had he misunderstood? ' ilya, i-- ' but then he was being pulled in, and ilya's breath brushed against his ear as he whispered the room number. fuck. fuck fuck fuck. the last thing he wanted to do was leave ilya alone, even just for the time it would take each other them to get to his room. but before shane could reach out again, ilya was pushing him away, vanishing right in front of him.
ilya to the elevator, and shane bolted for the stairs. faster than he should, almost eager. carter vaughn was saying something, but shane wasn't listening. he was struggling not to freeze the entire bar, to keep the frost from following him up the stairs. he took them two at a time, practically sprinting out of the stairwell when he got to the right floor. it wasn't hard to find the right door, not when it was slightly ajar and there was a crashing sound coming from inside.
shane slipped inside and closed the door before he could think that the situation might be dangerous. ' holy fuck, ' he cursed. not because of ilya. no, vourdalak might be dangerous, might be frightening monsters in stories, but shane wasn't afraid of ilya. no, he was cursing because it was insanely hot in this room. why was it so hot?
but temperature be damned, shane would deal with the heat sickness later. ilya was standing there, mirror broken, desk upturned, his features more animalistic than shane had ever seen them. over the years, he'd seen small hints of the more feral persona of the vourdalak, but never this much. maybe it should scare him. instead, shane surged forward, placing cold hands on ilya cheeks, seeking contact with those red eyes. ' ilya. ' first name again, begging for his attention. ' when did you last feed? ' fuck, he wasn't even completely sure how often ilya needed to feed, but he'd never seen the other man have such a strong reaction to such a small amount of blood. but shane was already tipping his head to the side, bearing his neck as he gently tugged ilya in closer, offering his blood as he had so many times before.
✘ ♕ ✘ The temperature of the room hadn't even registered for Ilya when he returned. He forgot that in his petty anger, he'd turned the thermostat way up to keep Shane out. It was truly sibling level petty, but it had felt justified in the moment. Now, however, his whole body felt as though it were baking in a oven, and it had nothing to do with the temperature. His body was changing, the monster inside starting to take hold. By the time Shane had caught up to him, his face had nearly contorted into something hellish. It was the most he'd ever transformed before, and given that it was involuntary scared him. He knew the warnings. Without the blood of a loved one, he'd eventually be trapped as a wolf-like creature for the rest of his life. Surely the threat of that happening wasn't upon him yet, right? He was still young and felt as though he still had time, but the reflection he'd seen in the mirror before he shattered it said otherwise.
It was the cool touch against his cheeks that seemed to calm him. Ilya stilled in Shane's hands, his breathing still heavy as he closed his eyes, trying to force himself back into control. It was difficult, though, especially with the object of his desires so close. He could actually hear the blood pumping through the other's veins. For a long time, Ilya had assumed that the other man's blood tasted so divine to him, so unique and amazing, all because of his yuki-onna heritage. It was in that moment that he finally admitted the truth to himself. It was for the same reason his heart had shattered when Shane left that afternoon; why he'd gone into a spiral ever since he learned about Shane and Rose's relationship.
Ilya was in love.
Slowly opening his eyes, he saw the exposed neck being offered. The veins were visible to him just underneath. Even if he wanted to refuse and back away, he couldn't. He was starving and the animalistic side of him took control as his lips parted and his elongated teeth bared. Before another word could be uttered, he bit down. It wasn't as gentle as the last time he'd done this, but he couldn't help it. The instant that blood hit his tongue, a wave of relief washed over him. His arms wrapped strongly around Shane, holding him close as he drank deep. It was heaven, enough to almost get lost in.
Almost.
The man in his arms wasn't just a meal, and before long, Ilya threw his head back, breathing in air. Crimson fell down his chin and he wiped it as best as he could with the back of his hand. A hand that was already looking more human. "Fuck, Hollander," he breathed in relief. Putting a hand to his face, he felt that it had also mostly returned to normal. Though he couldn't see it, his eyes were as red as ever, the iridescent crimson giving away how much he enjoyed that. Then he spotted the wound he'd created in the other's neck, and though he echoed the same words, they were said with a much different inflection.
"Fuck, Hollander. You are hurt? Come." Already he was moving to the bathroom for a first aid kit.
Shane had a plan, and everything was falling into place. When he politely declined the offer from the other guys, he hoped Ilya would follow them for at least one drink. It would give him time to get ready back in his room for the little surprise he had waiting for his boyfriend...
It was a silly thought really, brought up while by JJ when they were talking about what they thought was attractive.
"Mon cheri in nothing by my jersey? Oh putain!"
Shane raised a brow, "You really think that's hot?"
"Don't you? You don't think you would go insane seeing Landry with only the words HOLLANDER on her skin?"
He wasn't going to tell his teammates that, no, he really wouldn't. But it did get him thinking, wondering really, if Ilya thought it was attractive? How many women from his past played coy and laid themselves out on hotel beds, or his own in Boston, with the name ROZANOV stitched along their backs?
All Star weekends were always times when he felt a bit more adventurous. Everyone around them was more relaxed, which meant Shane was more relaxed, willing to let himself go to enjoy it. So he went back to his room to do just that; enjoy himself and relax...
...in Ilya's jersey...
And this one was one of his game worn ones. Taken stolen from the Russian's closet during Shane's last trip to Boston, and hidden in his bag to take back to Montreal, saved for this very occasion. He'd been hyping himself to just do it all day, but Ilya's teasing just egged him on even more...
After a shower, Shane stood in front of the mirror and just stared at himself. He was surprised how big the jersey was on him since they were both around the same height. Though, Ilya's shoulders were broader than his, and apparently that made all the difference, the hem falling all the way to the top of his thighs, the bottom of his boxer-briefs just peaking out underneath.
His cheeks blushed, freckles sticking out more against his skin, trying hard not to second guess himself for doing this. This was hot, Ilya will think it's sexy, right? Fuck, he didn't want to wait too long, he wanted to see his boyfriend's reaction now...
Before he could stop himself he grabbed his phone and snap a quick picture against the mirror, the name on the back of the jersey reflecting backwards in the image.
[sms: Lily] -image sent-
[sms: Lily] I hope you're enjoying yourself.
✘ ♕ ✘ As the players cheers together at the next bar, Ilya was feeling smug about himself. He had no way of knowing that his boyfriend had actually manipulated everything and was glad that Ilya had gone out. If he were to find out, though he might be a bit pouty, he'd also be impressed. It was clear that he'd been a bad influence on the good, proper Canadian boy all those years, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Shane had become quite devious in his own way, and it always excited Ilya, taking him by surprise.
The All-Stars were always an interesting time because of the teams he was paired with. Most of the time he'd find friends there, but given his usually antagonizing style of play, he often found enemies. Which of course, he loved. The men were all genial as they ribbed each other, throwing harmless chirps back and forth, laughing loudly over something dumb.
Feeling his phone buzz, Ilya pulled it out to see a photo. He nearly choked on his beer and quickly pocketed the phone before anyone could see the screen. Setting the half finished glass down, he made up a bullshit excuse about his head hurting and left. Behind him, he could hear his teammates laughing that he was clearly running off for some sexual rendezvous with a fan. Little did they know...
On the way back to the hotel, Ilya allowed himself to stare at the photo more properly. Though they weren't "rivals" anymore, seeing Shane in the Boston jersey, his very own old jersey, did things to him that he hadn't expected. His own name emblazoned on the back as though staking claim satisfied his possessive side in ways it hadn't when other girls had worn it. He didn't pack that jersey for the All-Stars, which meant Shane had planned this. That thought alone was almost enough to make hard on the spot.
( txt ➞ Jane ) : I would say fuck you, but is my job tonight. 😈 ( txt ➞ Jane ) : Which room are you in?
