On Saturday I said to my partner, as I have said for months, "A ten thousand dollar a year raise would solve so many of my problems."
As of this morning I was reluctantly looking for jobs because I love my job and don't want to leave it, but see: $10k raise problem solver.
As of noon today this was no longer an issue, because my boss called me with the news that I was getting a $10K merit raise.
I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. This is roughly $200 extra per paycheck. Enough to pay off debt faster, rebuild my savings, and spend a weekend a month in Milwaukee getting obscenely laid. The sex I'm going to have on $200 extra per paycheck. You can't even.
May all of you get the $10K raise your soul has yearned for. And whatever level of sex you can be satisfied with for $200.
Shane/Ilya; 5k; Explict
Tags: dom/sub, sexual free ese, POV Shane, face-fucking, rough sex, objectification, exhibitionism, possessiveness, under-negotiated kink (but that's just them), married Hollanov, Post-TLG
Preview:
Don’t talk and don’t come and stay where I put you when I need you, or I’ll find another hole to fuck, one that’s always ready for me, Ilya had said last night in Shane’s ear, making him shiver in anticipation.
Shane doesn’t have anywhere to go. He doesn’t have anywhere to be, other than right here, until Ilya needs him.
~
Or, Shane experiences a day of free use.
Read on Ao3
(Please read the complete list of tags on Ao3)
(shout out @mybloodstream-caffeine for the original idea that spurred this I can't find the post but it was something about Shane dealing with being ignored by Ilya)
After an eventful loss to Montreal the night before, Coach LeClaire is happy to get his team on the road back to Boston. It's only when they're about to go through Customs that he realizes the Raiders have a stowaway on their bus.
Notes:
This is Canon divergence from the AU (We Could be) Something Great picking up hours after the end of chapter 5.
“Oh.” Shane rubbed his fingers on a napkin, looking back up at the TV. “That’s nice…”
Ilya studied him, leisurely sliding a bite of his tuna melt in his mouth. “You like them? Girls?”
“Yeah, sure.” Shane felt himself answering too quickly, Ilya’s gaze roaming over his profile. He straightened, placing the napkin neatly on the coffee table. “Of course I do.”
Ilya’s face spread into a slow grin. “I have told you already. You are a very bad liar.”
Shane flushed, his head whipping towards Ilya. “I’m not lying!” His eyes seared into Ilya’s smug gaze, something thick filling his throat. Shane pushed it down, forcing his voice to settle, eyes flicking back to the TV. “Give me her number then.”
OR
An alternate take on Episode 4, where instead of Shane trying things out with Rose, he makes a bet with Ilya over who can bed Svetlana better instead. Followed by them both acting very normal and non-insane about it.
watching the opening promo for LA vs COL and it's all season highlights n things and then BAM Ilya Rozanov winking at the camera best jumpscare of my life
Ilya was only a few strides behind Shane on the ice.
He clocked the angle before the hit even landed; Marlow coming in too hot, too fast, shoulder high. Shane turned and slowed at the wrong moment, skates clipping, balance gone.
Impact.
The sound carried oddly through the arena, duller than boards, sharper than ice. Shane went down hard, helmet skidding, body twisting. And then it all happened at once. Skates tangled. Marlow stumbled over him as he fell, too. A skate’s blade flashed too close, too sharp.
--------------------------------
Shane's injuries during the Boston/Montreal game are much more life-threatening than in canon. Ilya's quick thinking and bone-deep instincts are the only reason he survives.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Cassie:
btw jane now that ilya is captain this means you’re officially Head WAG 💁🏻♀️
Jane:
what?
oh nononono that's not necessary
Selena:
sorry girl it's not really a choice
Heated Rivalry (fic rec): courage [it couldn't come at a worse time] by veilofimagination
@veilofimag
Oh, this one hurt, but in a good way. There is a happy end, because I don't like the stories that don't have one, and I love the realism of it all when you love each other, but it is still not working out - for now. I had to read this fic in one go, no matter the length, because it was so, so good. This one will be one of my example when people ask me whether fanfictions are as good as the original books - they are, and for some readers, they might even surpass them.
Here's the summary:
"Why are you not scared?"
"I am scared," Ilya admits. "I just am tired. Of hiding me. Of hiding you. Of hiding how much I love you. I want to go to the rink— how do you say it? Authenti."
"Authentically," Shane supplies, automatically.
"Yes. Authentically. I want to go to the rink authentically, as me," Ilya confirms.
Ilya looks at Shane, pauses until Shane meets his eyes. "I want to say: I, Ilya Rozanov, love a man, and that man's name is Shane Hollander."
-
Or, sometimes it takes a little more time, and some courage, to be with the one you love.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Jane: I have an idea.
Those were Ilya's favourite texts to see from Hollander. Usually it was Ilya who came up with new things to try for them, but when Hollander set his beautiful mind to something... Ilya had yet to be disappointed.
Lily: What is this idea of yours, does it involve both of us in a dark, suspicious Montreal alley?
Jane: Yes. What if I pretend to not want it, and you do it anyway, next time?
Jane: I can text you the code for the door, and you can just come in and take what you want?
Jane: If it's bad we have the armchair.
Ilya looked at the texts, read them. Read them again.
And if Hollander needed to wait for a reply because Ilya's cock had opinions about that suggestions, that was none of his business.
Lily: I will order clothes for you to wear, to that address. Disposable ones.
Lily: [grinning devil emoji]
Explicit, 2.2k
Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov
Consensual Non-Consent, Subspace, Aftercare
Written for Day 4 of @mean-dom-ilya-week: But did you want it?
Chosen Kink: Consensual Non-Consent
Summary:
Shane wants to experiment with pretending that he doesn't want it. Ilya is into it.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov
Characters: Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov
Additional Tags: Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Top Ilya Rozanov, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, and by that I mean the blowjob, Mild Smut, My First Smut, Shane Hollander Gets Road Rage, Ilya Rozanov Gets Horny, Attempt at Humor, Post-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers)
Summary:
Ilya shifted in his seat.
“…You good?” He asked, already knowing the answer was no, but also not really caring because something about this was…
“Yeah, I’m great.” Shane muttered, heavy sarcasm laced in his words. He flicked the turn signal a little too aggressively and changed lanes. “I just love when people forget how to drive.”
What if they got a moment together, back at the Sochi Olympics?
What if the party Ilya attends with his father and Svetlana, is held after Canada takes gold? What if after dealing with his father berating him, and Sasha coming on to him, Ilya leaves the bathroom, only to find the Canadians have been invited to the event as honoured guests, a part of a celebration of their win?
They've clearly been here for a while, judging by the relaxed way they're mingling, and Ilya's fighting for his life to appear calm, in control, and not fucking devastated at how hot Hollander is in his very best tux. He hasn't seen him since he told him to go away. Since Hollander actually seemed to care about him, all wrapped up in that stupid fleece, causing him physical pain to make him leave.
Seeing him here, looking so hot, so untouchable, is the worst kind of salt being rubbed into the wound.
He quickly finds his father again, knowing he's going to be pissed that he hasn't been around to welcome their guests, and no sooner than he does, he's pushed right into Hollander. Forced to meet his eye and congratulate him on leading his team to victory. And Hollander? He's his perfect, sweet self. Gracious, and gentle, and modest.
"You lose to him?" Ilya's father mutters in his ear in disgust, trusting Hollander to not be able to understand. Ilya can't quite keep himself from flinching.
He sees Hollander watching a bit too closely, and is grateful when he's forced to move on to the assistant coach for Canada. But no matter where he goes, he can feel Hollander's gaze tracking him.
Eventually, once he's one more glare from his father away from punching something, he's able to slip outside. Cigarette already in his mouth, he flicks his lighter desperately, cursing when it won't do more than spark.
"That's still bad for you, you know," a voice says behind him. Hollander's voice. Ilya doesn't know if he wants to latch onto it or strangle him.
"I told you to go away, Hollander," he spits, feeling the eyes of his father track him, even here. The lighter does nothing but spark again, and he swears loudly, almost throwing it.
"Whoa, hey, easy," Hollander says, stepping closer. "Give it here."
"What?" He hisses, forcing himself to breathe in through his nose.
"The lighter. Give it here."
"So you can stop me smoking? No thank you."
But Hollander just sighs. "Rozanov."
Rolling his eyes back, he barely swallows back a groan but hands it over, clenching and unclenching his too-empty hands. A few seconds later, the unmistakable click-whoosh of the lighter catches his attention. Turning around incredulously, he sees him holding out the flame like an offering. After staring at him for a moment, he curls around it, finally lighting his cigarette.
He can't bring himself to say thank you, or chirp about the fact that Shane Hollander, health nut extraordinaire, is lighting his cigarette, so he just nods. Just the once. But Hollander nods back, silently returning the lighter.
Hollander's meant to leave, then. But of course he doesn't. He just follows Ilya's lead, leaning back against the building, staring at the night sky, heedless of the cold. And Ilya hasn't got the energy to tell him to go away again.
"I'm sorry home is... complicated, for you," Hollander says eventually. Quietly, but all too loud in the open space. "And I know you don't want me here, but. I just... I wanted you to know that. I can be. I guess. To talk. If you ever wanted to. I might not understand, but. I want to."
The words just hang in the air between them. They should feel impossible. Ilya should scoff, roll his eyes, or find a snarky retort of some kind. But with the way something warm slowly trickles into his chest - the way his eyes start to sting, and he has to take a break from his cigarette because he can't find breath to take a drag - all he can do is swallow. Hard.
It's then that Hollander moves. When Ilya's drowning. When he's pretending that he can feel the heat of Hollander's arm through his jacket, just because he wishes he could. When he's dying to just kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. Hollander pushes himself off the wall and suddenly he's standing in front of him. A good, respectful distance, but close enough to hold out a hand for Ilya to shake.
"See you after the Olympics?" he asks, meeting his eye.
Gospodi. He's so beautiful.
Shoving the cigarette in his mouth to stop him doing anything stupid, he lets his gaze linger on Hollander's mouth, just for a moment, then grasps his hand. He squeezes as tight as he can bring himself to before dropping it to grab his smoke again. He hopes he doesn't imagine the understanding tilt to the small smile on Hollander's face. Then Hollander disappears inside.
Later that night, chest heavy with the latest round of criticism from his father, he flexes his hand carefully, the ghost of Hollander's warm hold still making it tingle.
Teeth - the story of ilya rozanov as told by dental trauma, incredibly sharp prose that made my jaw ache in sympathy
sympathy fuck - if you ever thought about how quickly ilya went from "my dad's dead" to "hey let's fuck" and went huh, this is for you
nothing makes me feel as good - jj boiziau & his relationship with the terrifying creature that is shane hollander, really hits the sweet spot of shane's characterization as the guy who's so good at one thing that you either love him, hate him, or both
2.0 - people assume ilya is david's son more than shane, with all the heartbreak that comes with it
Decisions, Decisions - the slippery slope to 24/7 total power exchange, or as one comment puts it "Why did this FEEL like 22k of porn without there being ANY smut what so ever that's SKILL"
daisy chain - hanahaki, or the absolutely terrifying realization that if you get the surgery you will live but will you, really? if so much of yourself is caught up in one person?
crossfire - shane/ilya/marleau threesome that's just. so hot in that dripping-in-luxury-and-bad-decision-making way
advice from fools - shane hollander handles being a boyfriend (not ilya's) with uh. a certain amount of grace. which is zero. absolutely fascinating man
that'll leave a mark - i never get tired of "shane & the inherent violence of hockey" fics and this one also has beautiful outsider povs along the different fights
And a Sense of Guilt I Can't Deny - a yuna fic that made me ugly sob
A Longing as for Sin's Beguiling - the love triangle between you, the man you're attracted to and the man you've translated him as onto your desires
