layers of honey by sushiwriter (T, 5k)
Once, belied by the notion of a city teeming with other Russians, he spent the day going from bakery to bakery in New York City, trying to find a cake that would even come close. It was the dead of winter, and he blamed any teariness on the way the wind whipped at his face. He ignored texts from everyone but Shane.
Vishnya by Kate Andrews (k8andrewz) (E, 9k)
Shane wears panties for Ilya.
a clear view by guarddog (E, 10k)
Shane made a decision a long time ago: he wants hockey, needs it, and he wants it for as long as he can get it. He's going to play till he can’t anymore, and he’s going to do all the right things so no one can ever argue otherwise. Or: the Shane abortion fic
how do you feel? by exogenesissymph (T, 10k)
Shane Hollander, interviewee, throughout the years.
A Fierce and Blazing Thing by Annwolfe87 (M, 11k)
In the days leading up to the first time Shane Hollander faces his old Montreal team with the Ottawa Centaurs, he kinda goes through it. Maybe a lot of bullshit built up over the years. Maybe now that he's finally in a place to deal with it, he starts to.
to stand by a river and go by placebythering (T, 12k)
Ilya spends his second Christmas in Shane's cottage, and contemplates the idea of home, grief, and what it means to speak a language.
clear to a hedgehog by magneticwave (E, 12k)
Every Boston Raider knows that although their captain has a girl in every port, he’s got a soft spot for the one in Montreal. Dr. Shane Hollander knows it’s better to have a semi-regular source of casual sex than try to make a relationship work during residency. Ilya Rozanov knows that the doctor he’s fucking in Montreal is unaware that he plays hockey, and in fact probably thinks he’s Bratva.
for richer or poorer by lowkey_existential_despair (E, 14k)
There was a twitter post. A video. The caption said #pissgate. The video started playing automatically, and Ilya saw the nondescript white tile of the Metros locker room, and then the camera peered around a corner, and there he was. There Shane was. It played just long enough for Ilya to hear himself—say it—and Shane—piss on me. please—before his phone fell from his nerveless fingers and shattered on the concrete.
Shine A Light In The Morning by thegoodthebadandthenerdy (M, 14k)
She looks, if he unfocuses his eyes, if he tries very hard, if he pays close attention to the bridge of her nose and the baby fat still in her cheeks, not much different than she did when he last saw her. A little stone angel marking time at a mean old man's wake.
Sit Tight, I'm Not Far Out From You Tonight by hollanoved (E, 16k)
Ilya buys his fwb, totally casual situationship Shane a pair of panties to try.
Aching, Aching, Aching, and Alive by verbaepulchellae (E, 17k)
Goddamnit, now is not the time to crash out over fantasies of Ilya working his whole hand down to the wrist into Shane’s ass and fucking him on his fist. And yet. Shane should know by now that timing and “good ideas” are rarely factors in whether or not he gets obsessed with something.
Gatorade Galas & Moscow Mules by toraten (E, 34k)
Shane and Ilya are having trouble balancing their very private relationship and their very public lives.
theartofmadeline
kaledo-art
tangentwithtanner
janainaart
dededos
origamiaround
germansingergirl
baratheonpilled
