Ilya watches Shane win MVP from the hotel, the image of him in his tux crystal clear on the huge flatscreen adorning the wall of Shane’s penthouse suite. The words penthouse scream luxury anywhere, but in Vegas it’s different; the suite is fucking huge, and Ilya figures he could fit about four of his apartment into it. Both his room and Sveta’s could fit into the living room of this suite alone, and still have some space left over.
Maybe something is broken in him, that it doesn’t feel weird or wrong. If anything it turns him on, the excess of it all, the beauty of it. Gaudy mock-ups of Grecian statues in the foyer, their own fucking pool. A balcony overlooking the strip, a games room, a fully-fitted kitchen as if either of them can cook. And the way Shane had shrugged it off, like it’s normal. Which, Ilya reminds himself, it probably is for him.
Well, Ilya has plans to fuck him in every single room of this too-big suite, and the balcony, too. He could probably get him to hump one of the statues until he comes if he wanted, which he doesn’t. Not right now, anyway; his mind is subject to change, and Ilya knows that Shane will do whatever he asks of him.
And he looks so fucking good in his tux. Custom Calvin Klein, part of the brand deal he has with them, fitted tight at his thick waist and tapering out at his wide shoulders. The second he’d stepped out of the bathroom it’d taken everything in Ilya not to drop to his fucking knees right there and suck his dick through the silky fabric.
Shane shakes the presenter’s hand, plastering on his media smile and looking down at the trophy in his hands. There was once a time that Ilya wouldn’t know the difference between the Shane Hollander smile and his real smile; there was once a time he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to learn. And isn’t that a scary thought, that he could’ve lived a whole life without meeting Shane, without kissing him or teasing him or fucking him. Without counting the freckles on his cheeks, or learning his pre-game routine, or knowing the minutiae behind something as small as a smile.
Lately, Ilya has been getting the feeling that he’s fucked. That he’s crossing a line, and that once he’s fully over it he won’t be able to go back. Watching Shane lift the trophy and say “I’m so grateful to my team, my family, and for the people waiting for me at home,” feels a lot like a crossing of its own.
The music plays; Shane leaves the stage, joins his teammates in the audience, and for the first time since they left Montreal, Ilya feels something curdle in his stomach. For the people waiting for me at home. Is that supposed to be him? Maybe. Possibly. Likely, even, since he knows good and well that Shane doesn’t have anyone else waiting for him. And it’s Ilya’s job to wait for him; he has no right to wish that he was there, sitting next to him, kissing his cheek and applauding embarrassingly loud.
Crossing a line. Moving from we fuck and you pay for dinner, for my apartment, for my skates into calling Shane Hollander’s penthouse apartment in uptown Montreal home. Kissing him on the cheek when he passes in the kitchen, cooking together. Fucking face to face, slow and intimate, kissing his eyelids. Ilya needs to get his fucking feelings under control or he’s going to get himself hurt. He’s a professional, this doesn’t happen to him; a good time, an easy fuck, easy money. That’s what he’d said to Shane when he was signing the NDA. Trust me, Mr. Hollander, this isn’t my first time.
When was the last time he’d even called him Mr. Hollander? Somewhere between midterms and finals, maybe. Ilya hadn’t even registered the shift, hadn’t realised that even this small show of emotion had permeated his carefully-crafted performance. Not so careful, if he calls him Shane, if he misses him when he’s gone, if he wears his t-shirt to bed. Fuck.
Tumblr already has a personalization algorithm it's called my beloved mutuals who have great taste and only wish to psychologically damage me sometimes
*stumbling back into the room* AND ANOTHER FIC IDEA!!! I want a different first meeting au where Shane, newly self actualised gay boy courtesy of his recent break up with Rose, is in the midst of a sexuality crisis of epic proportions (can you even really qualify as gay if you've never slept with a guy?? What credentials does he need for this???) when he spots Ilya in the bar of the fancy hotel he's staying at. With his beautifully styled hair, his gaudy silk shirt, his flashy jewelry, his vaguely European accent and his come-hither gaze, Shane mistakes him for a hooker.
Shane then, in what he will later chalk up to a fit of horny madness, very awkwardly attempts to solicit Ilya for Gay Sex™. At first Ilya just thinks this refreshingly earnest man is hitting on him, but once Ilya figures out this misunderstanding, he laughs so hard he gets actual tears in his eyes. Shane wants to melt into sea foam and evaporate.
They still fuck nasty in the hotel, though. ("Free of charge! I must really like you~" "Oh my god, please stop bringing it up, I'm begging you")
Reblogging with @tafkarfanfic's BRILLIANT spin on this au:
Can I see you and raise you: Ilya plays along with it instead of laughing at him! He plans to come clean in the morning, but Shane flees in the middle of the night (leaving a fat wad of cash) and now Ilya has to find him?
ilya voice Shaaaane don’t be mad sweetheart. hitting marly’s vape in the club doesn’t count as smoking. is basically for babies, that’s why it is mango flavor. i can ask next time if he has kale flavor so you will kiss me
Word Count: 27,363 Completed: 4/4 Very very very very mature :)
Shane froze slightly at that, his mind running through all the thoughts. “We get ranked together?” He questioned, his eyebrows squinted.
“I guess,” Ilya shrugged. “If you want, but usually it is ah… one person themselves.”
“Individual.” Shane said, looking directly at the Russian. The words were like bells to Ilya Hollander–Rozanov’s ears.
“Ah, yes. But if you do not want to go…” He trailed off.
“I’m going to crush you Rozanov.”
or;
Shane and Ilya Hollander-Rozanov get invited to the Met Gala and Marriage sure hasn't slow down their competitive nature.
My Met Gala fic is completed!! Everyone go check it out and leave a kudos if you enjoy!
i am convinced that ilya is into doing old people shit with shane, especially after they’re out.
there’s a tulip festival in ottawa that shane has never even heard of despite living there for a major part of his life, and ilya’s like “please let’s go to the tulip festival” and shane’s like ???????? why???? tulips?????? wtf?? but of course he goes and he Doesn’t Get It but ilya’s having fun, he’s full on turning his megawatt super smile on shane and taking a million photos of shane among the many colourful tulips and holding his hand and kissing his cheek and talking to random old ladies who tell them (well, mostly ilya because shane doesn't compute information about flowers) about tulips and stuff, and shane stands next to him and holds his hand while ilya animatedly talks and gestures with their hands linked and shane watches him, so enamoured, so besotted, because this isn’t about tulips, it’s just spending time together somewhere outside of hockey, where they're not shane hollander and ilya rozanov but just two guys among people, and shane is happy to continue standing next to his husband and nearly letting him smack Shane's own hand in his face from waving their joined hands around so much.
now that im seeing this again, im realizing im not done.
they go to an art museum that david recommended because there's a new exhibition and ilya, again, wants to go and shane is looking at him like ??? you know nothing about art, and ilya nods and says, that's why we should go. learn. broaden our horizons, and shane sighs and books them a guided tour.
they get to a painting, you know, one of these things that's just a blob of single colour, and shane thinks he could’ve done that. shane doesn't get it. it's just a blob of colour. and not even a pretty colour, just some weird muddy shade that looks like vomit, maybe. and the guide is talking about it and next to him, ilya is oooooohhh-ing and aaaahhhh-ing and nodding along and saying “of course” and “yes, i thought so” and shane is staring at him as if he's seeing him for the first time, because. what. and they move along and he feels so stupid because nothing of what the guide said about this “painting” made any sense to him.
ilya notices how pinched shane’s expression is and kisses the back of his hand, raising his eyebrows in a silent question. shane chews on the inside of his cheek and finally, whispered, asks how ilya knows all this stuff about this painting, and ilya shrugs and says, i don’t, and, it’s just a fucking a circle with colour that looks like puke, and shane is so relieved. they look at each other and snicker like teenagers about how stupid and pretentious it is and then duck out of the tour to go gossip about terrible art but end up finding pieces that they both actually like and stand side by side admiring and finding new little things to point out to the other.
as they take another turn around the exhibition, they pass a couple looking at and discussing the puke blob very seriously, they look at each other and snort, and then walk away very quickly when they receive glares, laughing the whole way.
"We must not allow the delicate womenfolk to write perverse and obscene materials" is literally what yall sound like
how about gay man sex is not that special and unique such that women cannot intelligently speak or write about it. How about we generally possess brainstems
Women have anal sex women can stimulate prostates women suck dick women HAVE dicks women everywhere do all of these things and more this literally isn't that big of a deal. Every single sexual act on heated rivalry has been performed and enjoyed by 10000000000000 women in the course of human history. And if you fact-check on me on my math I will hereby decree 5000 years of gay man fetishization as penance for misogyny
In my mind Shane’s allergies are latex, peanuts, tree nuts, and mangoes. The mango allergy is pretty mild and he LOVES mangoes so he eats them anyway but Ilya hates that so when he’s away from Ilya for sponsorship-related trips he’ll go eat a bunch of mangoes alone in his hotel room and later when he FaceTimes Ilya he’s got a suspicious mouth rash. Ilya’s like what are you doing. That better not be a mango reaction, Shane. Tell me it’s anything else. Tell me the makeup artist didn’t wash the brushes right and now you have herpes but do NOT tell me you’ve been eating fucking mangoes behind my back AGAIN—
the idea of shane who denies himself SO MUCH and optimizes SO MUCH OF HIS LIFE and is SO focused and SO dedicated
but who cannot resist the siren call of Forbidden Mangoes
it ends up being his end of season treat
he did a whole season, he did a great job, he stayed focused and On It the whole year. other people celebrate with champagne. shane celebrates with an allergen.
shane who has one last photoshoot to knock out before he's free and is just oh no :) it conflicts with my husband's schedule :) guess that means ilya can't go with me :) so sad :)
why are you so happy
i'm not :)
then he does the photoshoot and has knocked out the last thing he has to do in front of a camera for a while.
now it is Mango Time.
he facetimes ilya with the lights down WAY low later and ilya just ?? shane??? i can barely see you, malysh. turn a light on.
uuuhh, no thanks. it's sexier like this.
what? i want to se-
...
shane is it the fucking mangoes
...no
SHANE
YOU GET TO SMOKE SOMETIMES. I GET TO EAT MANGOES.
ARE YOU FORGETTING PART WHERE ALLERGIES CAN GET WORSE WITH EXPOSURE?
Ilya learning FOR SURE that shane let him win during every foreplay wrestling match the day he has to try (*TRY*) to get this contraband mango away from him
Now imagine, this has been a conversation, this has been a fight, it's been years and it's one of the few arguments that they never reach a compromise on...
And then they win the cup together, for the first time.
They've won and carried the cup and the loved ones have entered the locker room and everyone has been drinking out of the cup already, everyone at least tipsy if not completely drunk, sogging wet from champagne and beer and what else, and it's time for the the media to do their round of questions! Not a whole interview, of course, but some quick questions to get the winners fresh reaction and capture that victorious feeling, you know?
And they're happy, they're in love, they won their first cup together just now, they're tipsy and everything is lovely and wonderful! And Shane feels so fucking proud. Of Ilya, of his team, of himself. He's so proud of himself. He adapted to his new team and truly contributed to this win, especially the last two rounds of the playoffs where they did a series and a half with Ilya playing with bruised ribs, and Shane's line had to pick up the slack and increase their already long ice time minutes... Shane is proud. Shane feels like he truly earned this. He earned this happiness and the wonderful summer he's about to have. He earned anything and everything he might want.
And then the media comes and the questions come and Shane's so fucking happy and thirsty and hot, and it's summer and they've been playing this last series against LA, six games and three of them in hot California.
And they ask "Hollander, you just won, what's the first thing you're gonna do?"
And he says "I'm gonna eat some mangoes"
And Ilya is answering his own set of questions a few feet to the right but he heard him, and he turns on his feet so fast he almost looses his balance and screams "YOU WILL NOT"
And the reporter who asked the question in the first place was already confused, all of them were, really, because eating mangoes? That's the first thing he would do? What kind of celebration is that? But then Rozanov is making that angry sound and Hollander responds with a very, very offended face and what is this about, that's juicy, so they all shut up and let them bicker.
And Shane goes, mullishly "I will eat as many mangoes as I want!"
"Absolutely not! Why are you like this? It's not good for you!"
"Neither is smoking, neither is alcohol, or the absolute trash junk food you have all the time!"
"I quit smoking! And I'm not allergic to fucking McGriddles"
"But I'm sure is worse! You have them all the time! I can have mangoes one time! I just won the cup!"
"Allergies get worse with exposure Shane, you CAN'T have mangoes one time! It's a bad idea!"
"YOU WERE A BAD IDEA"
"What thE FUCK DO YOU-"
"I KNOW I'M ALLERGIC TO MANGOES. I ALWAYS KNEW I WAS ALLERGIC TO MANGOES. IF I WASN'T THE PERSON WHO KNEW MANGOES WERE BAD FOR ME AND ATE THEM ANYWAYS I WOULDN'T BE THE ONE WHO SLEPT WITH YOU AT NINETEEN"
"Shane, lyubimyy, are you comparing ME TO MANGOES?"
"Yes!"
"They are bad for you!"
"Well I still love them! And you! TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT"
Well... Idk how this scene ends, but I sure know where it ends: In the internet! also as the first time Hollanov does any kind of confirmation of how long they have been involved together.
yuna getting really lovely, thoughtful, sometimes extravagant mothers day and birthday gifts from ilya never really understanding why hes going through all this effort even if she does appreciate it and thinks hes so so sweet for it all, even after the boys tell her and david about ilyas mother and the irina foundation it doesnt fully click for a while. it only comes together on some random day, ilya has a game later that night and he’s had lunch with yuna and david planned for a while and he shows up with the good vodka david likes and this small package of candies that ilya hands to her very shyly for the first time probably in his life, definitely since shes known him, and he explains with shaking hands that they were his mama’s favorite, and it was her birthday today.
yuna feels her heart break a little bit when he tells her that she would have been younger than her, maybe too young for how old her children are considering he had an older brother, but he thought about his mama when he was happy in the hollander home, and wanted to share his mamas favorite candy with the woman who was mama to his favorite person in the world. like they got to meet, in a way. and yuna realizes very suddenly that he does the birthdays and mothers days for both her and irina because she is the closest thing he has to a mother, and she looks at him and realizes with it that he is in some ways still 12, finding his mother, and she has never met a little boy so tall and tired when she pulls him into a hug and doesnt let go till david suggests they get inside for lunch.
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