petricor

I'm a little from all the people, songs, books, movies, shows & characters I love 🖤

[echoesinmyears]

I took this and I'm proud of it

[paper-wounds]

[thisandthatandeverythinginbtween]

This.

[snowsmoked]

Shane doesn't dislike his body. He likes what it can do - that it listens to him, that it responds in a predictable way. He knows he's conventionally attractive, he knows his husband finds him attractive. So, he doesn't dislike his body.

But, like everyone, his body has it's imperfections. Ones that are visual, but don't effect his function. Ones that are just annoying.

Ones like his stretch marks. He got them as a young teenager, when he starting gaining muscle faster than his skin could stretch to accommodate it.

Ones like the dips in his lower back that he could never fill out with muscle.

Ones like the layer of fat over his stomach that never lets him have really visible definition unless he restricts his water intake.

He's used to these things being airbrushed away when he does commercials or promotions or modeling. Stretch marks are smoothed over, his back is groove free, his abs are well defined. Foundations smooths out his skin and his body is arranged in the most flattering light.

He's never given it much thought. It's just what post-production does - make people look perfect.

His viewpoints shifts one day, as he goes through the photo album on his husband's phone. The Cens are doing a Paws for Pucks night and Harris requested a few pictures of everyone's dogs for their post. Ilya takes a lot more pictures of Anya (or just pictures in general) than Shane. And for some reason, Ilya roped Shane into finding suitable pictures.

He couldn't resist opening the album that was simply titled 'Shane'.

There were hundreds photos of Shane. There were super close-ups of his face with the .5 lens that made his eyes and forehead look big and his chin look little. There were pictures of him on the couch leaning over, skin rolls visible on his stomach. A picture of him blinking, with his eyes half closed. A picture of him sleeping with his face smushed on the couch. A picture of him looking down at his phone that makes it look like he has a double chin. A zoomed in picture of the crinkle lines by his eyes when he smiles. A picture of him first thing in the morning, grumpy look on his red, puffy face. A picture of him from the side with his face slathered in shaving cream.

And yes, there were some of Shane's modeling pictures and some stills from hockey videos, but the vast majority where just random candid photos.

He's not really used to seeing photos of himself like this.

"You are snooping?"

"Jesus Christ!" Shane jumped at his husband's voice behind him. He twisted around on the couch, unhappy look on his face. "Why do you have all these?" He waved the phone.

"Photos of my husband?"

"Photos like - like this!" Shane tapped on one. A picture of him with his hair sticking up in all directions, hand rubbing at his clearly tired eyes.

"That one?" Ilya leaned over the back of the couch, arms wrapping around Shane's shoulders. "That one is because you looked adorable."

"I did not," Shane grumbled. "I look stupid in all these pictures."

"You think my husband looks stupid?" Ilya's arms tightened.

"I am your husband," Shane selected another picture. A zoomed in picture of the stretch marks on his thighs that wrap around to his ass. "And yes, in these pictures, I look stupid."

"You don't look stupid," Ilya pressed a hand on his forehead, pulling his head back so he was looking up at Ilya leaning over him. "That is what you look like."

"Well, sorry," Shane wiggled out of his grasp, embarrassed.

"Why sorry?" Ilya hopped over the back of the couch, causing Shane to grunt as he was jostled, and settled next to him. "These are my favourite pictures. Not all pictures make the cut for this album."

"But they're all so...," Shane struggled for the word. Saying ugly was not necessarily true. It felt true, but he knew that wouldn't be well received. "Unflattering."

That still seemed to make Ilya unhappy. "I am your husband."

"...okay?"

"I am not just stupid crush or boyfriend. I get to see all of you. Not just public you. Not dressed up you. I get to have it all. This is just for me."

"Oh," Shane looked back at the photos. It was true - he wasn't much for posting online anyway, but he had a brand to keep up. He's sure that Rolex wouldn't enjoy people seeing him out and about in old sweat pants with holes in the knees.

"And," Ilya continued, pulling him over to rest his head on Ilya's chest. "You understand we will not always look like underwear models, yes? We get old, retire, abs are gone. Gray in our hair. Wrinkles. Still, you will be most sexy man in the world to me. Because you are my husband."

Shane swallowed, the familiar feeling of tears in his eyes. "You really think that far ahead, Rozanov?"

"That is Hollander-Rozanov to you," Ilya whispered into his hair. "And yes, I do. About this."

[snowsmoked]

One of the Shane's traits that Ilya finds most endearing is his inquisitiveness. Shane asks a lot of questions. He asks about people, he asks hypotheticals, he asks for opinions. He even asks follow-up questions.

It's not rare for Shane to start a conversation with an abrupt, blunt question. So it really shouldn't have surprised him when Shane interrupted the comfortable silence of breakfast to ask, "did you like fucking women more than men?"

Ilya paused, his spoonful of Lucky Charms (Shane could pry them from his cold dead hands) half way to his mouth. "What?"

"Like before we were together, obviously."

"Shane, you know I love fucking you more than I've ever loved fucking anyone else."

"I know," Shane rolled his eyes and held up his wedding ring. "I meant, like, in general."

"Why are you asking then?"

"Rose asked me once if being with a man was better," Shane explained. "And obviously, yes for me, because I'm gay. But you like both, so I just... I dunno. I wondered if you liked one a little better."

"Hmm," Ilya considered. He tried to answer all Shane's questions as well as he could. "I don't know. I have only been with two men."

"You - really?"

"Yes," Ilya nodded. "Just you and Sasha. It was risky to find men and I like women, so. That was easier. Sometimes men flirt with me but they weren't..."

"Weren't what?"

"They weren't...," Ilya realized his answer then, one he hadn't even been aware of until he thought about it. "They weren't you."

Shane did one of Ilya's favourite smiles. His lips pressed together, a little awkward, one that he couldn't control and he did when he was really pleased.

But of course, now Shane was curious, so he followed up, "how is it different?"

"You have fucked women, Shane."

"I know," Shane rolled his eyes. "But I wasn't attracted to them. You were. I mean, it must of been good."

"With me, always," Ilya smirked and Shane scoffed, but didn't deny it. "It's different in a lot of ways. I can be rougher with you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Some women like rough, too, but I can't be too rough. Most women don't like sucking cock as much as you do."

"They don't?" Shane's brows drew together, so adorably confused about how someone wouldn't love sucking cock.

"Not usually," Ilya shrugged. "But it was fine. More time for eating pussy."

Shane scrunched up his face like Ilya didn't just eat him out this morning. Or maybe he was jealous. Like a jealous little kitten when their mama is paying attention to someone else

Ilya suddenly got an idea. A great idea.

"Biggest difference was probably the challenge," Ilya lamented, keeping a close eye on Shane's expression.

"What challenge," Shane eyes zeroed in on him like a little cat on a laser pointer.

"Oh you know," Ilya said distractedly, using all his self control to keep his face blank. "How many times women can come."

"What do you mean?"

"They don't have a, uh, cool down time, you know," Ilya said. It might not have been strictly true. He knew most women needed a little cool down, but much less than men. But he didn't have time for semantics right now while he's trying to rile up his husband. "I mean, they can come over and over and over..."

"I get it," Shane said tightly, stabbing his protein pancake with a little too much force.

"I think my record was like 20 times in one hour."

"Oh fuck off, it was not."

"It was."

It was not. More like 8 times, which was still impressive, in his humble opinion.

Then Shane paused and considered him. He had that cute concentrated face he gets when he's thinking through a play.

"We have tomorrow off," Shane thought aloud. "We could go by day instead of hour because that's fucking impossible. Or, maybe 12 hour periods." Shane taps his fingers against the table and narrows his eyes. "We could keep score with each other."

This isn't fair. This was Ilya's fun game to make Shane jealous and get to fuck a jealous Shane before practice which was one of his favourite types of Shane to fuck.

"What do you mean," Ilya asked.

"We make it a challenge," Shane smirked a little. "Since you miss that so much. Tomorrow. 12 hours. How many times I make you come are points for me and how many times you make me come are points for you."

"Fuck, Shane," Ilya readjusted himself and glanced at the clock. "We have 2 hours before practice. We can get a head start."

"No way," Shane stood up and started clearing the table. "We need to start fresh for tomorrow. No sex today or tonight."

He really should have known that first question was a fucking trap.

Ilya groaned and grabbed his bowl to help Shane clear up breakfast. It was going to be a long day. And an even longer day tomorrow. (He couldn't wait)

[mournfulroses]

Georgia O’Keeffe, from a letter to Alfred Stieglitz featured in My Faraway One: Selected Letters of Georgia O'Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz: Volume One, 1915-1933

[butimaficwriter]

before dick and kisses

after dick and kisses

from 😾 to 🙂: an ilya rozanov guide to keeping your shane happy

[kaijuerotica]

after dick no kisses

[wermbrain]

Some Sundays, when he is home and not hungover, Ilya goes to church. Orthodox, Russian-speaking. He puts on a suit, likes the way it hugs his shoulders and his hips tightly. He sits in the rough wooden pew, body aware of itself. He lets the easy language wash over him, unthinking. He knows the prayers, mumbles them softly with the others.

During communion, he crosses his arms and receives a blessing instead. He doesn't go to confession anymore, he likely never will again. He will keep his sins to himself; they are precious to him.

After the service, he goes to the annex and indulges in the free, shitty coffee, mingles shyly with the other congregants. Breaks off a piece of fresh pirozhki, crumbs falling on a papery napkin, lets the babushkas tell him all about their lovely, single granddaughters. Recently, some of the children figured out he plays for the Raiders, shyly coming up to him to ask him to sign their service programs. Then, weeks later, they expect him and bring pucks and silver sharpies.

Sometimes, when gossiping with the women or talking hockey with the men, he has to lean in and ask someone to repeat something, not recognizing a Russian word, and he worries he's forgetting. He thinks to ask Shane if he ever can't recognize a word in English or French, but thinks it's too vulnerable, memory being a strange and painful topic for both of them.

He always leaves earlier than all the others, pocketing one more pirozhki for the road and sneaking out without saying goodbye.

The cathedral is the only place in Boston where he is reminded of home and mama and himself. He goes mostly just so he can be in a room where everyone speaks Russian, where he doesn't have to waste precious energy translating all this stupid English. Sometimes, when he is feeling particularly indulgent, he listens to the singing children and he allows himself to believe. In this brief belief-state, he is deserving of his lover, he will see his mother again someday. It barely lasts a minute, and then the heels of his feet start to hurt in his dress shoes.

After, he calls Shane.

[hollanoveau]

it’s late 2016. shane hollander is dating rose landry. ilya rozanov is breaking every traffic law known to man in his hideous sports car and tearfully scream-singing DONTCHA WISH YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS HOT LIKE ME….. DONTCHA WISH YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS A FREAK LIKE ME…..

these two things, of course, have nothing to do with each other

[jewelcoatfish]

shane (a little tipsy) being cornered by a few fans at a bar one night and they ask him what’s the best thing about coming out, expecting him to say something motivating like self-expression and liberation and shane just goes

“i don’t know, probably that i can have ilya’s photos on my phone now :).”

and the whole of non bigot hockey twt just fucking crash out and montreal metros and crowell gets burned at the stake

[toapoet]

These tags are my fave

[nyctophilia-35]

[kosmogrl]

[the-wolf-and-moon]

NGC 3576, Liberty

[sahlesummerhill]

[waldemarstr]

Have we considered that between Ilya Slavanov and Mr. Autism 3000 this is probably how they look to the outside world even when they're as happy as can be 😭

[heavensenthousepet]

you learn something new everyday. unless you're a historian. then you learn something old

[melonisopod]

[tinylilhollander]

David and Yuna are clearing out their attic, and they come over with a box of Shane's old childhood stuff to see if there's anything Shane (but realistically, Ilya) wants to keep.

As Shane and Ilya are going through the box, Ilya pulls out a little Centaurs branded notebook, with "Shane's Fun Facts!" written on the front in sharpie. Ilya is understandably delighted.

"What is this?" he asks, smiling from ear to ear, quickly yanking it out of the reach of Shane who immediately tries to swipe it out of his hands.

"It's nothing," says Shane, but the way his cheeks have gone pink behind his freckles tells another story.

"Uh-uh. It cannot be nothing if you don't want me to see it this badly."

Turning his back to Shane so he can't easily grab at it, Ilya opens to a random page and reads in Shane's 8-year-old scrawl:

Lightning bolts are five times hotter than the sun. That is very hot!

Ilya is grinning even wider now.

"Wow, Solnyshko, that is a fun fact."

"Fuck off," Shane says. He doesn't even attempt to grab it again, just kind of collapses and bonks his head into Ilya's shoulder. "I used to have trouble making friends as a kid. Dad suggested I start collecting facts to use as icebreakers. Y'know, to get conversations going."

"Did they work?" asks Ilya, tilting his head so that it rests on top of Shane's as his husband gives an almighty sigh.

"I think they made it worse, actually."

Ilya turns to another page and reads it out loud.

"Oology is the study of eggs. It's so cool because it looks like there are three eggs in the word!"

"Oh god," says Shane, burying his face further into Ilya's neck.

"I think you knew all the worst kids in Canada," says Ilya, putting down the book and wrapping his arms around Shane. "Those facts would have worked on me."

"Really?" asks Shane, glancing up at Ilya's face to see if he's teasing him, but Ilya is being perfectly serious.

"Of course. You came up to me and started telling me fun facts straight away, remember? 'I don't think you can smoke here.' 'Wow, Rozanov, you are the best player ever to watch.'"

"Fuck off, I didn't say that," laughs Shane.

"Well, it was something like that," says Ilya, pressing a kiss to the top of Shane's head. "So at least the fun facts worked when it mattered, yes? Imagine where we'd be if you hadn't come over to break the ice."

And Shane tugs Ilya even closer.

"I don't think I want to."

[mutinsfromthemoon]

there’s a viral video going around of someone who snuck a camera into the tunnel and caught shane and ilya embraced right before they hit the ice. it’s an incredibly warm and tender moment, they’re holding each other so tightly. ilya’s face is buried in shane’s hair and he’s kissing his head while whispering something to his husband. and they’re kinda slowly swaying together, and shane’s got one hand caressing ilya’s back while the other one is just playing with the ends of ilya’s hair. and it’s the most domestic and romantic thing that anyone have ever seen from them. they’re just so soft and in love and and the fans are mad about the invasion of privacy but also so grateful they got to witness such a beautiful moment between the married hockey players. and harris is absolutely beaming because for once the hollanders are viral for something nice instead of some chaotic or unhinged moment