my controversial hollanov take is that the two of them retire at exactly the same time. none of that ilya retires first to take care of the kids bs no sir. they retire at the same time. because both of them are just not interested in playing without the other to push them and the thought of doing long distance for even a week makes them start shaking crying screaming staring into the distance.
the thing about het romances is most of them are sexist so even tho i’m meant to root for them ill spend half of it thinking he shouldn’t talk to her like that
I have no skin in the game as I’m not currently writing but I am a person with severe trauma and suicidal ideation who constantly makes those jokes.
Just because it’s your experience and makes you uncomfortable doesn’t mean that applies to everyone who’s had that same experience. It’s also fiction and there’s a lot of room to play around with concepts.
Sometimes humour during dark moments is the only way for a human being to make sense of suffering, and given Ilya’s sardonic nature, it’s not that much of a stretch to imagine.
It’s also just good practice to assume that anyone who writes like that or makes those jokes are doing so from a place of experience and good faith rather than malice.
ladies… has anyone ever told you it’s okay to be feminine 🩷 i’m sure no one has ever ever ever reinforced this deeply held secret, that’s it’s okay for you to be feminine. 🩷 i know the world totally tries to tell you that you have to be manly and masculine and grow your body hair and eat as much as you want and get strong and stand up for yourself and make waves and take up space and show your bare face and show your anger. but it’s okay to do the exact opposite actually. 🩷 it’s okay to shrink yourself down to the exact same mold every other woman is expected to conform to. 🩷 did you know that it’s okay to be feminine. 🩷 did you know it’s okay to be feminine. 🩷 did you know it’s okay to be feminine. 🩷 has anyone ever told you it’s okay to be feminine. 🩷 will you be feminine. 🩷 will you be feminine. 🩷 will you be feminine. 🩷 will you just be feminine already. 🩷🩷🩷
What if Irina killed herself because she couldn’t get out?
Imagine she is making plans to take her youngest son and leave Russia. She has passports for both of them. She has been researching Visa requirements. She has some money saved up, set aside from her personal allowance. It's not much, but she is getting close to what she thinks she’ll need.
She has been in contact with a friend who moved to another country, has notes and letters from them. She is making plans.
Then Grigori finds out.
He flips out, tears her down, hits her. Tells her she will never leave, ever. And how dare she try to take his child from him?! He burns all her documents, including her passport. Even her money, just to prove that he can.
Her last shred of hope for getting herself and her baby boy out of Russia has failed. Her son, who is sensitive like her, and has the sweetest heart. Who she suspects might like boys the way she likes girls.
The way she liked her friend Ana when she was 17. The first girl she ever kissed, and the one her parents caught her with.
Irina tried to pass it off as girls being girls—practicing kissing on each other so they can be ready to kiss boys. Her father believed her, but her mother didn’t. She started going through Irina’s things.
That scared Irina more than anything. Her mother found the bracelet Ana had given her, and a distinctly flirty note they’d passed one day, with hearts drawn in the corner. In a panic, Irina destroyed her beloved journal. It was like tearing out a piece of her heart. But inside were love notes she never sent to Ana, and poems about her beauty.
Her mother threatened to tell Ana’s parents what she saw. Her father threatened worse.
So to throw them off, Irina said yes to the next man that asked her out. Nevermind that he was nearly 20 years older than her. He lavished her with gifts and praise. Told her she was beautiful. Promised her things. She saw a chance to get out of her parents’ house, which had become suffocating since the Ana thing.
Then Irina fell pregnant. She and Grigori were married within months. And she was starting her new life with a man who certainly wasn’t what she’d pictured, but who Irina knew would take care of her. She truly believed that everything was going to be fine.
Well, I’ve written and posted chapter 1 of a new fic!
It’s a Heated Rivalry Au based on The Last of Us!
The last of us is one of my all time favorite games and i decided to start rewatching the HBO series in between my Reheats 😁
The fic is calllllled
You are my Priority
The fic will follow a mix of the show and game storyline, with my own scenes sprinkled in here and there. So you’ll notice similarities and quotes from both.
I don’t have a schedule planned for updates but it’s the main fic I’m focused on. I’m currently writing Chapter two.
I’ll post the link to it here, i hope you enjoy and Happy readings ❤️☺️
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
the whole boston team knowing about montreal jane and they think that ilya rozanov who can pull any girl he wants must have found a real baddie the way he keeps coming back for more and then hard cut to shane hollander on a friday night drinking tea and reading the same hockey book for the fourth time who when ilya texts him asking what are you wearing? texts back my new organic cotton pj set and ilya texts back i'm so hard tell me more
“Teachers are often unaware of the gender distribution of talk in their classrooms. They usually consider that they give equal amounts of attention to girls and boys, and it is only when they make a tape recording that they realize that boys are dominating the interactions. Dale Spender, an Australian feminist who has been a strong advocate of female rights in this area, noted that teachers who tried to restore the balance by deliberately ‘favouring’ the girls were astounded to find that despite their efforts they continued to devote more time to the boys in their classrooms. Another study reported that a male science teacher who managed to create an atmosphere in which girls and boys contributed more equally to discussion felt that he was devoting 90 per cent of his attention to the girls. And so did his male pupils. They complained vociferously that the girls were getting too much talking time. In other public contexts, too, such as seminars and debates, when women and men are deliberately given an equal amount of the highly valued talking time, there is often a perception that they are getting more than their fair share. Dale Spender explains this as follows: “The talkativeness of women has been gauged in comparison not with men but with silence. Women have not been judged on the grounds of whether they talk more than men, but of whether they talk more than silent women.” In other words, if women talk at all, this may be perceived as ‘too much’ by men who expect them to provide a silent, decorative background in many social contexts.”
—
PBS: Language as Prejudice - Myth #6: Women Talk Too Much (via misandry-mermaid)
Every EVERY women’s studies class I’ve been in has had this problem and failed to address it.
While I am a Ilya was allowed to hit raw for the first time at the cottage truther, I also like to imagine an alternate world where Ilya convinced Shane to let him hit raw their first time
“Ah, we don’t need those” Ilya tossed the strip of condoms back onto the bedside drawer.
“What? Are you crazy? Of course we do.” Shane scoffs, giving Ilya the craziest side eye over his shoulder.
“Why? You can get pregnant, Hollander? Through your asshole? Should probably see doctor about that.”
“No, fuck you, Rozanov! For STDs! Don’t know if you remember but you’re a slut, I don’t wanna catch anything.”
“Hollander, I am clean, i sent you test results last week. And besides, I wear condoms with everyone else, bare dick is only for you.” Ilya persuades, trailing sloppy kisses across the back of Shane’s shoulder. Ilya rolls his hips so Shane can feel his bare erection sliding against his asscheeks.
Shane’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling. His brain fights hard against the fog starting so slip around the edges of his mind, but something about ilyas deep accented voice and the fact he could feel his precum rubbing against his ass just made it creep in faster.
“You think I would put you in danger, Hollander?” Ilya asks, suddenly soft in a way that surprised Shane.
Shane takes a moment to look at Ilya directly in his eyes. “No.” He states.
“No.” Ilya nods. “Will feel so good, Hollander. I promise, I will take care of you.”
“Okay, rozanov.” Shane whispers.
Ilya smiles down at him, his dimple illuminated by the soft orange light of Shane’s lamp. “Good boy, thank you.” He presses a soft kiss to Shane’s lips, then trails kisses all the way down to Shane’s ass.
Shane lets his brain go fuzzy again as Ilyas tongue slides against his hole.
And then everything is the same except they’re even more insane about each other
hi baby. I have this little prompt for you: Shane giving Ilya a massage. Do what you will with it. Loveya
hi my baby. okay. i can work with this easy.
so, it's the middle of shane and ilya's first year on the cens. over the summer ilya started taking antidepressants and its been a lot of trial and error re finding the right dose, the right drug, which side effects are tolerable and which ones are absolutely not acceptable. ilya's most recent trial of SSRIs was a combination of pervasive apathy and a complete and utter inability to get a hard on. even with shane beautiful and eager and wide eyed between his legs. soft cock on his tongue. not growing hard no matter how much ilya concentrated or how much he really liked to see shane on his knees. the apathy part is the main priority of his psychiatrist and galina and shane too -- shane is worried about his husband's lack of interest in running around with anya, the absence of his gentle bullying of the rookies and the almost vacant look in his eyes after a win, the lack of a witty retort when shane chirps him about something -- but to ilya the sex drive thing is his biggest concern. he knows his husband loves him for more than his body -- intellectually. like it's a fact but it's just not a fact that's clicking with him right now. his brain is murky and heavy. it is also a fact that sex is a big part of his relationship with his husband and he is worried about losing shane. he doesn't tell shane this, of course, not at first. at first he is explaining it to galina -- that the combination of feeling nothing when he's on the ice beside his husband scoring off a power-play and then nothing when he's in bed with his husband pressing down on top of him is making him want to quit SSRIs alltogether, infact he almost just quit cold turkey but the psych had been very firm about not doing that and ilya didn't want to jeoporadise the season over his stupid fucking brain -- and then upon her advice he discloses this to his psychiatrist. and he's moved onto a new drug slowly the following week.
it takes a fortnight for the new drug to entirely replace the old drug. a little bit of the fog has cleared. he actually laughs properly, genuinely, when holmberg falls asleep on the bus and the guys decide it'll be fun to douse him in shaving cream as he naps -- because the kid naps like the dead. when they win the next game and he scores off of an assist from his -- gorgeous, patient, perfect -- husband ilya smiles and feels it in his chest. something warm and happy glowing there. there's side effects with this drug too. like sweating. he's sweating more than he's ever sweat in his entire life. but he can feel things. and that kinda matters more than the sweating.
as the drug starts working ilya is adjusting the dose higher with his psych and feeling more and more like himself... almost. he still has shit days but his brain is functioning and he's present in the room and he loves playing with anya and bullying the rooks and sharing the ice with his husband and... there's just the issue of the sex... it's been a while. he's been too humiliated to try again. worried he'll get his husband's hopes up and go soft before things get started or just continue to be entirely unable to get it up in the first place. his desire to have sex is back though -- in bursts. he can feel heat prickle under his skin and want thrum through his fingers whenever he sees shane getting out of the shower -- shoulders damp and long hair sticking to his neck, cheeks flushed from the shower steam -- or whenever shane sits close to him, pressing their thighs together in front of the guys, subtle and lingering just for them but still exhilirating because he fucking didn't think he'd get this. but humiliation is never something he's felt in sex before, he's never been self-concious about his body in the bedroom. his dick has been failing him and so he hasn't tried it with shane since the new SSRIs started working.
so it's been a month and a half. six weeks of no sex.
he knows his playing is suffering for it. he knows shane's is too. he also knows his husband is giving him space and being patient and tolerant and not complaining because he doesn't want to bring up last time. (last time when ilya had sat for half an hour with his soft cock pressed to shane's tongue, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to make anything happen before pulling away harshly when shane, gentle and trying to be kind, had said "it's okay. maybe tonight's just not the night." and ilya had felt hot with embarrassment even as he'd manhandled his husband onto his stomach and fucked him on their favourite dildo. shane had cum. pretty and melty and gorgeous with his face pressed into the mattress. and ilya's dick had stayed soft against his thigh. when shane had caught sight of ilya's flaccid cock a look unreadable to even ilya had crossed his face. and that never happened. ilya could always read shane. and since then shane hadn't even tried to fuck him. barely gave him more than a tender, whispering kiss. instead, every night, they snuggled. which was nice. sure. it was nice. but ilya wanted to sink his teeth into his husband's shoulder and thread their fingers together and fuck into him all bruising and sharp and deep. wanted to kiss him until it ached in both their jaws and swallow each of shane's wonderful, breathy gasps. wanted to be close close close. because he fucking loves his husband. loves him so much. and that's how he knows best to show him. there are other ways too ofc but they'd always been best at communicating with their bodies. this SSRI bullshit felt like a particularly cruel joke upon his marriage and ilya was sick of it.)
they've been away for about ten days. on the road travelling the geography that makes up the Atlantic division. usually when they get home the first thing they do is pick up anya from the dog hotel and their meal service delivery from yuna and david's. this time shane has asked david to pick up anya and watch her for another couple days and gotten take-out delivered to the house so that when they're pulling up the food is there waiting for them. ilya is confused by the turn of events, by the break in their routine -- as routines are precious to his husband -- but he delights in the rare treat of thai take-out and sitting on the kitchen bench with shane stood between his legs, letting ilya feed him mouthfuls of laab gai and steamed brown rice. he kisses ilya between mouthfuls of food, brushing their noses together, fingers curled over the tops of ilya's thighs, scratching at the material of his sweats. ilya makes shane feed him pad see ew and shane even willingly eats desert. the little kanom krok pancakes that taste like coconut -- shane isn't the biggest fan of coconut but he tries a couple at ilya's insistence and ilya smiles big and dopey at his husband as shane screws his nose and declares "nope, still don't like coconut". when they kiss, shane tastes like sweet coconut and diet ginger ale. and ilya hums into it, mouth parting, tongue pressing past the seam of shane's lips. licking over his husband's tongue, the roof of his mouth, his teeth. his fingers find shane's hair and he's tugging him close and kiss kiss kissing him. something is turning in his belly, pulling down, and he shuffles a little at the sensation. gone for so long but not forgotten. but then shane is pulling back and pressing his big palms to the sides of ilya's face and stroking his thumbs tenderly beneath ilya's eyes and murmuring "i missed you" and ilya aches a little because he'd missed his husband too. even though they'd been together every day for months. they hadn't been easy and quiet like this -- the tension of ilya's struggle with his drugs and the pressure from the fans and media about their relationship always kinda there between them even as they dealt with both challenges together. the best they could. as a team.
shane is detangling their limbs then. stepping away from between the bracket of ilya's thighs and ilya is whining, pouting, frowning. he was so close to feeling something and he misses his husband so much that even if he can't get it up he really really really just wants to kiss him some more. but shane is tugging on his hand and dragging him upstairs and pushing him down onto his back on the mattress and telling him to just "relax, i will be back in a minute" and ilya is humming, spreading himself out on the comforter and wriggling out of his clothes -- again, because even if he can't get it up he wants to feel shane's skin against his own -- and waiting for shane who is puttering about in the bathroom with his hands clasped behind his head, trying to flex maybe just a little. shane comes back in with his t-shirt removed but his sweats still hanging low on his hips and a little bottle in his hands -- not lube, to ilya's dismay, but an unfamiliar green glass bottle with a little squirty top -- and a towel slung over his shoulder. shane is grinning when he sees ilya and says "well, i guess i don't have to ask you to undress" and ilya is waggling his brows as shane rolls his eyes and lays out the towel over the sheets -- it's one of the big ones, fluffy and wide and big enough for ilya to splay out over. which he does. shane nudges his over until he is on his stomach on the towel with his head pillowed on his arms. and ilya isn't asking what's happening. he's just intrigued. and then shane is sitting on top of him, on the backs of his thighs still with his sweats on, and then his big hands are pressing into ilya's lats, warm and calloused and drenched in sweetly smelling oil.
ilya shivers but as quickly as he is startling he is immediately settling into the feeling. the feeling of shane's fingers digging into the tense muscles in his neck, finding knots there and working them out, untangling the gripping parts of ilya that he'd been carrying around more and more lately. the heels of shane's big palms pressing into the mounds of his shoulderblades, digging in, releasing the tension caught between the his spine and ribcage. then shane's hands are going lower. kneading into the curve of his lower back, thumbs massaging into the aching muscles in his thighs, of his ass. shane is shuffling down, kneeling over ilya, carefully loosening the pains aching in ilya's legs. regular hockey pains. the season wearing on him maybe a little more than last year and the year before. shane is touching him everywhere. from his shoulders to his palms to the back of his neck and his scalp then down his back and ass and thighs to his calves. every inch of ilya slippery with delicately scented oil and burning with the pressure of shane's touch.
and he's hard. pressed between his stomach and the mattress, involuntarily rolling his hips when shane presses a thumb into the arch of his foot. digging his finger into something painful and erotic and pleasurable and overwhelming. ilya breaths through the sensation and releases an unmistakable moan, muffled where his face is pressed into the towel but heard all the same. he hears shane huff a little laugh behind him and then he's being gently guided to roll over. he goes easily because he feels like liquid and shane's hands are so warm. his husband smiles at him tenderly but then his gaze catches, his breath stalls, tongue darting out to wet his lip when he notices ilya is hard and pink and twitching. a sound escapes shane's throat -- low and needy -- and he is dropping down to push his face between ilya's pecs.
ilya is surprised his husband didn't go right for his cock but then shane is mumbling "i wasn't trying to make you hard" and ilya is swallowing, frowning, carding his fingers through shane's hair, tucking it behind his ears then gathering it in a fist and pulling, dragging shane's face up to look at him.
"you weren't?" he's asking and shane's shaking his head.
"just wanted to help you feel better, i know the antidepressants have been a lot," shane says, big eyes all dark and heavy as he looks at ilya. "it has been so nice to see you smile for real again. i missed you."
"so you weren't trying to seduce me?" ilya cocks an eyebrow and shane groans, blowing out a heavy breath through his nose.
"i may have looked at some stupid chick magazine that jackie had in the bathroom about erogenous zones and massages for blood flow and sexual stimulation but i swear i just wanted to make you feel good" shane frowns "i missed making your body feel good. and if i couldn't make you cum i thought i could..."
and ilya is breathing, heavy and ragged, one hand gripping tight at shane's hair, the other slipping over shane's cheek, his thumb tugging at the corner of shane's pink mouth. his husband had wanted to just touch him. touch him and make him feel good even if sex wasn't an option. even if ilya would continue to disappoint him. ilya is a little stupid with his wanting now. his hips shifting, pressing into shane's thigh. pressing his hard cock to shane's thigh.
"well, you made me feel good," ilya murmurs and shane is smiling, that easy, affectionate smile that always makes ilya a little breathless and he's saying "yeah?" and ilya is nodding nodding nodding. "wanna make me feel even better?" and shane is moaning, eyes fluttering shut, tugging against the hold ilya has on his hair. "yes" he is breathing and ilya is letting go, watching as shane shuffles down his body and presses his face into ilya's pubic hair, nuzzling close and breathing deep then pressing the tip of ilya's cock to his cheek. eyes shut like he's savouring the moment. "i will make you feel so good i promise" shane is murmuring and then he's taking ilya in his mouth and ilya is gripping at the edge of the towel and breathing through the pressure, the wetness, the warmth. and he fucking missed this so much and he feels something indescribably and unequivocally good which for a moment he'd thought he'd lost bc of his stupid fucking brain.
it still takes ilya a while to cum. even after so long without it. the drugs make it harder. but it happens. with shane on top of him. thighs bracketing ilya's hips, abdominals tensing and shuddering as he grinds on top of ilya, taking him in and riding ilya hard and dirty and deep. not letting up until ilya is cuming with a groan and a shuddering exhale.
when shane collapses on top of him, cum smearing between their shivering chests, ilya tucks his face into the side of shane's head and kisses kisses kisses over shane's temple, his ear, his cheek. everywhere he can reach. pressing tenderness all over. murmuring softly in russian 'i missed you i love you' and shane is humming, nodding, nuzzling back. returning in fumbling russian 'i missed you too i love you so much' as he tangles his fingers through ilya's curls and scratches at his scalp.
later, when they're cleaned up and snuggled in bed -- shane behind ilya, his feet tucked between ilya's calves pressing his cold toes to ilya's shins, his arms locked around ilya's waist and his face burried in the crook of ilya's neck -- ilya tells him -- facing away from him as he strokes his fingers over shane's hands where they overlap on his stomach -- that "i am sorry it took so long for me to find a drug that let's us fuck" and shane is shaking his head, kissing at ilya's nape. "i'm just glad you found one that makes you feel... well, like you can feel" and ilya is nodding. "would you have still loved me if i never got it up again?" and shane puffs a breath of air against his ear and laughs "yes, baby. i love you. and i love having sex with you. but i want you to be happy more than i want you to get hard or whatever" and ilya is arguing "getting hard makes me happy" and shane is biting his ear in response then kissing at his neck. "if this ever happens again can you promise not to stop touching me?" ilya asks, and feels vulnerable for it, but less terrified because he's speaking it into the dark and not into shane's face. shane's face in pressed into his skin, lashes brushing over the nape of his neck. thank god ilya can't see his face in that moment. "i didn't want to make you feel bad" shane explains "i'm sorry, i shouldn't have been so distant with you. i thought it was the right thing." and ilya hums and says "i probably should have just told you what i needed instead of making you guess" and he feels shane grinning against his skin "therapy has done wonders on you, rozanov. is that self-reflection i hear?" and ilya is rolling his eyes and huffing and burrowing back into shane's hold and ignoring as shane chuckles against his neck then settles, arm squeezing around his middle. "next time just tell me" shane says eventually, voice soft with near-sleep. and ilya says "there won't be a next time" and shane goes "mhm" and ilya sighs "but i will" and shane mumbles "thank you baby" and then he's tucking his nose behind ilya's ear and falling asleep. ilya sleeps easily after.
blakekathryn
stormborns
theartofmadeline
areudirty
yousharknotpass
janainaart
