I’ve reread this scene about a hundred times because I’m currently writing an Anya fic, and somewhere in those hundred times something struck me: the only family that really loved and cared for Ilya abandoned him too. It wasn’t her fault. Irina was sick. But she still left him, and no one acknowledged how terrible that was when it happened because it was more important to save face and pretend it was an accident. Ilya wasn’t allowed to voice his pain or rage when it happened to him. With Anya, he gets to say it. He gets to acknowledge the cruelty of being left behind.
But even though she was abandoned, Anya is not mistrustful. She’s a happy-go-lucky dog, lovable and friendly with everyone. She carries this wound of abandonment, yet every time she meets a new person, all they notice is how friendly she is. How happy. A lot of formerly abandoned dogs are like this: desperate for affection, sweet, friendly to everyone. Doing everything they can to make themselves so lovable that no one will ever leave them again.
That’s the Ilya we see in Role Model. Boisterous, friendly, taking care of everyone else’s pain while hiding his own. It’s not until we get his POV in The Long Game that we see how much he’s suffering.
Shane sees it. When Anya cries at their bedroom door, Shane postpones his very favorite thing to do (fucking his boyfriend) because Anya is scared and alone. He gives Ilya permission to meet her needs, and Ilya can’t move fast enough.
I can’t screenshot the book bc my copy has it spread on two pages, but he says,
“Anya, sweet girl. What is the matter? Are you lonely?”
I think it’s really important we’re in Shane’s POV here. Shane heard her cry first. Shane said, “go get her.” Shane, Mr. “now the bed’s all dirty,” let Anya sleep in their bed because she was alone and she needed it. Shane is not the emotionally illiterate autistic stereotype the fandom makes him out to be. He’s already noticed this loneliness before with Ilya
The difference is, Anya asks for what she needs and lets them give it to her. Shane gets to be there for her in a way Ilya isn’t ready to accept yet. Ilya gets to give her the care he didn’t get as a child who lost his mother. They both can address Anya’s loneliness because she is a dog and she feels safe enough with them to ask.
Meanwhile, Ilya…
He’s not ready. Shane can’t give him what he needs yet because Ilya won’t let him, has spent too long denying his own wound.
When Ilya finally does admit he’s lonely, does ask for what he needs, Shane is right there to give it to him. Ilya gives him one last out, but of course Shane doesn’t take it. He will be there every time Ilya whines at the door, ready to let him in.
Boston and Montreal are at the same club. They're at different tables, but they were all sat in the VIP section - it's a little more secluded, offers the facsimile of privacy more than anything - and the Boston boys are loud, loud enough to be heard even over the thumping bassline of the music. Loud enough for Shane to hear them from where he's sitting in the corner of his booth, nursing his drink.
"Okay, best lay. Go."
"Sorry fellas, I'm a gentleman - I don't kiss and tell."
"That means you have nothing to tell, Connors?"
"Suck my fat one, Lenny."
"And become your best lay? Pass."
"For me, it was twins. In Vegas."
"Yeah, their names were right and left, surname hand. Gimme a break."
"Ye of little faith!"
"Ey, there's nothing little about me, bud. Just ask my best lay - Laura Steeler."
"What, the chick from the car commercials?"
"Oh yeah."
"No wonder she was your best lay, Petey - she was the only one of the poor girls you picked up who could act."
Raucous, jeering laughter drowns out Peterson's objections. It doesn't drown out Marleau's voice, clear and sly:
"We all know who Rozanov's best lay is."
Like they'd rehearsed it, the Boston Raider's all cry out in lilting sing-song unison: "Montreal Jane!"
Shane stops breathing. His skin goes hot, then cold, prickling, his hair standing on end. There's no way. He must have heard it wrong, there was no way-
"Now why are you limp dick losers talking about my best girl?"
Shane has to shut his eyes. This is not happening, surely. Ilya Rozanov is not swaggering up to the next table, calling Shane his - his -
"Ayyye, Cap. We were just talking about our top fucks."
"Ah, I see. You all had nothing to offer so you had to talk about my conquests, I understand."
Boos briefly follow.
"No but seriously, Cap. Yours has gotta be Jane, right?"
Rozanov hums, slow, indulgent, like he's savouring something. "Mmmh yes. My Jane."
Some catcalls follow, lurid. Shane's pulse is in his throat, thumping thumping thumping. He stares out into the throng of writhing bodies on the dancefloor, unblinking.
"Yeah okay so you love banging this chick, but that still doesn't answer the question: what was your best fuck with her."
Rozanov's laughter is rolling, incredulous. "This I cannot answer - no, no it is true!" He adds when he's met with crows of denial, "My Jane, she is always surprising me. She is crazy for my cock. You would not understand what this is like, for a girl to want your dick so bad she is biting your belt buckle."
It's like getting shoved in the solar plexus, hard. Boston's jeering rises but it doesn't dim the memory - they hadn't seen each other in weeks, and it was coming off of summer besides, and Shane had felt like he was on fire, like he'd die if he didn't get Rozanov's cock inside him now now right fucking now, and in his desperate rush, mouthing his way across denim, over Rozanov's zipper, he'd clipped his teeth against -
"I call bull. No way she's that easy for it."
"Oh, but she is," Rozanov's voice is inescapable, like he's whispering straight into Shane's ear, "I go to eat her out and I can already work three fingers inside - she opened herself up for me in the shower because she needs it so bad."
That's not fair, Shane thinks dizzily over Boston's whooping, that wasn't the same night as the belt thing.
Ilya is still talking, rapturous now:
"- but it does not matter if she does not open herself up before I get there because the way this girl gets wet for me? Oh my god, she is like - like faucet, just dripping, always, making a mess in her little panties -"
And suddenly Shane is standing, uncaring if the movement is obvious through the dim lights of the club. He's weaving, stumbling his way to the bathroom. Jesus, people probably think he's wasted what with the way he's walking, but he doesn't care, he doesn't care about anything apart from getting behind a locked stall door right fucking now.
When the lock clicks shut, Shane is scrambling for his pants. He's so hard he's throbbing, hot to touch. And he's - he's dripping, all down his shaft, down to his fucking balls, making a mess of his -
Panties, Shane hears in Rozanov's indolent drawl, and he puts his fist in his mouth and bites down, hard.
It's enough to muffle his noises, if not the shwick shwick shwick of his hand jacking his cock.
It's enough so that he doesn't miss the door handle of the bathroom turning.
Shane's hand doesn't (can't) stop working, neck arching as it flies over his dick, but he's not worried, not really.
When Ilya answers, he’s greeted with a whimpered moan that goes straight to his head, leaving him reeling like he’s just thrown back another shot. His mouth drops open, the cigarette dangling stupidly from his lower lip for a second until he plucks it free with his other hand.
Holy fuck. He must be dreaming. But the rough breaths filtering into his ear are too real, tethering him tightly to the moment.
“Jane,” he murmurs, gleeful and shocked. “This is not like you.”
*
Or: after Shane confesses that he can struggle to get off if he's too stressed, Ilya suggests he should just call him next time. He doesn't think Shane would ever be desperate enough to go through with it.
“I never want to come back here again. I fucking hate it here. And they all fucking hate me. I pay for everything. I make sure everyone has clothes they like. I make sure the food is perfect. That father is buried next to his parents, that the tomb is perfect. And the only fucking word I ever hear is: i want more Ilya, i need more Ilya. More, more, more, more, more. And I have nothing for these people. I give them everything.. but I feel fucking empty. They don't care, they look at me and see a bank. Or an enemy. Or I don't even know what. My brother, he always hated me. And I know why... but it kills me. And it kills me that he took care of my father and I didn't. But I couldn't. I wasn't here. I still paid for it all. And he will never forgive me. For any of it. For existing. And it means... I have no one now. Well not no one, I have Svetlana. She loves me, and I love her. But not like... fuck me. But not like I love you. That's the worst fucking part of all this is. That all I want is you. It's always you. I'm so in love with you and I don't know what to do about it.
HEATED RIVALRY (2025) Ilya's russian monologue to Shane.
gasping for breath: "stop rozanov" 🙄 "no, you better get off" 🙄 "i don't think i can stop" 🙄 "i'm gonna come, rozanov" 🙄 "noooo roz" 🙄 /hands doing nothing but trying to hold roz' hand or hair/ 🙄 like okay,boy,, 🙄🙄🙄
you're not using a single one of your heaping, heaving muscles to try and force roz off, at all, whatsoever, holly!! no one is buying your lil cnc, least of all the dom in question! but don't u worry, it doesn't matter 😉 he won't stop taking what he wants from u anyway🌪️💧
Ilya is so lucky that Shane proposed. Ilya would have been a nervous fucking wreck for the entire day beforehand. Wake up in the morning. Look in the mirror. Today's the day. Sob. Breathe. Okay I'm good! Turn around and Shane's hair is all in his face, still asleep on Ilya's pillow. I am NOT good. Cold shower. Breakfast that Ilya does not eat. Morning jog wherein Ilya runs like someone is chasing him. Lunch that Ilya does not eat. Drive out to the cottage. Make Shane pull over because Ilya needs to dry heave on the side of the road. "Baby we don't have to drive out today if you're not feeling well." "NO WE HAVE TO." Get to the cottage. Immediately send Shane on some kind of extended fool's errand. Shane wants to stay because Ilya is SHAKING and he is so worried. "No my love I'm fine it's just the breeze off the lake haha." It's thirty fuckig degrees Celsius. Shane finally gtfo's. Yuna, David, Rose FUCKING Landry all descend to help Ilya set up. Well. Ilya is supposed to be helping but he is standing on the deck fully dissociating. Yuna brings him tea. "Are you going to throw up the tea?" "Yes probably." Yuna takes away the tea. 800 electronic tea lights on the deck. In a parallel Ilya has no way of understanding, he both puts on and takes off a suit. Yuna fixes his curls into the hockey boy quasi-mullet that magnetizes Shane's fingers to Ilya's hair and says, "Oh, you're so handsome!" Ilya cries big fat tears. David tells a story about how his proposal to Yuna almost didn't happen because David went to the hospital for heart palpitations that morning. Thank You David That Does Not Help Even Remotely. Ilya slav squats on the lawn for twenty minutes. Shane's car pulls up in the driveway and everyone hides while Ilya vibrates in the entryway. Shane has no less than thirty grocery bags hanging from his arms, still complaining about why the grocery service cancelled their delivery last minute. Ilya leads Shane and all thirty of his grocery bags onto the deck. Shane is doing his favorite thing (bitching) and his second favorite thing (Follow Ilya) so he doesn't notice his own mother tiptoing behind him collecting the grocery bags he drops like breadcrumbs. There is an Oscar-winning actress hiding under his sofa and Shane does not notice because Ilya takes him on the deck and drops to his knees and Shane is like, "Haha, right now?" and then he sees that Ilya has a look on his face like he's just been told the sun is never coming up again and he has his hands on Shane's knees and he is saying, "Shane. Please?" and Shane puts his hands on his head and says "Oh my God baby what's happening to you" as Ilya melts and melts and then from the depths of the cottage someone who sounds a lot like Shane's very own father is whispering "The ring the ring" and when he looks back down Ilya is fumbling a ring box out of his pocket. The first picture of their proposal is Shane glaring into the middle distance with a hand cradling Ilya's curls like a baby while Ilya ugly sobs into his knee.
writing is so funny because i could write nonstop for 9hrs and then hit a block where im like "how do i transition between this moment and the next?" and then i just dont touch it for 6 months
Serious advice tho if this happens, it's likely because you already wrote past the end of the scene and wandered too far from the more logical transition point, and you should go back to the last time the writing felt "unforced" and cut everything after.
You can also just skip the transition. Really good writing can span years in a single sentence, like you can just authoritatively state fact and your reader will go with it.
losing my MIND over the fact that Ilya probably thinks he's actually helping when they go to Shane's parents' house.
They get there and Shane is like "Ilya and I are, uh..." and Ilya is like "hmm we haven't talked about this but I know Shane is really uncomfortable right now, so I will shout out the one (1) english word I know that describes this situation. LOVERS."
Then they're talking about how long they've been together and Shane is like "since our rookie season" and Ilya is like "well, hold on now, you said you don't like lying to your parents, so let's be very clear about when this started. We have to be so clear about the fact that it started the summer before our rookie season. Wait, would it make you feel better if I give your parents the exact date and time of our first hookup?"
And then Yuna is like "you've been in love that long?" and Ilya is like "I need you to understand I've been drilling your son into mattresses from here to Florida for the last decade, but I can't say that because I want you to be my mother in law, so are you picking up what I'm putting down?" and Shane is like ILYA and Ilya is like "I am ANSWERING MY MOTHER IN LAW'S QUESTIONS"
And then he drinks his vodka and eats his pasta in his Boston shirt, very proud of himself for being sooooo supportive, meanwhile Shane is actively praying for a black hole to swallow him up
it's @treblerose689's birthday! here's a smutty lil minific written with some of her favourite things in mind: begging + degradation + desperation + coming from dry humping 🙂↕️ enjoy!!
—
“Fuck, I need you inside me, like, yesterday.”
Ilya gives a short, breathless laugh into Shane’s neck, biting his bare shoulder. “Wow, wow. So desperate for it, you can’t even wait to give me proper hello.”
“This is your hello, asshole,” Shane grits out, his hands pawing at Ilya’s clothes, as clumsy and greedy as Ilya feels. They’ve barely made it two steps inside their home, Ilya’s bag dropped carelessly at their feet.
“No ‘welcome home, my wonderful husband’,” Ilya pants, squeezing one of Shane’s pecs. “No ‘how was your trip, love of my life, tell me everything’...”
“Later,” Shane hisses, with a sinful roll of his hips. Ilya growls, crowding him back into the wall of their entranceway, and Shane draws him into his rhythm so they’re grinding like teenagers.
Ilya’s so fucking hard. He’s been hard since the goddamn taxi from the airport, since Shane started texting him all Really missed your dick and I need to be filled so bad, in that matter-of-fact way of his.
“Baby, please,” Shane moans, tipping his head back, eyes gone soft and glistening as his long lashes flutter, pretty pink lips hanging open all swollen and wet. It’s unfair, really.
“Yes, yes,” Ilya manages, nodding jerkily. “I know. You need this cock. I will fuck you like you deserve, lyubimyy.”
A bead of sweat trickles down the nape of his neck, beneath his jacket and t-shirt. Something about being fully clothed with Shane in only his favourite worn-soft grey sweatpants drives him out of his mind. Shane’s cock twitches against Ilya’s hip through the thin material, and Ilya knows he’s wearing nothing underneath. Beautiful, eager little slut.
Ilya’s stomach tightens, balls tingling, electricity thrumming through him. Shit, he’s in trouble. He should pull back. Take a breath. But he just—can’t find the strength to tear away.
They kiss messy and open-mouthed, smearing spit over his lips and chin, and Ilya’s hips thrust clumsily with a mind of their own. He moans at the filthy friction of it, at the solid warmth of Shane’s body under his. He’s missed it. He needs it.
He shoves his hands down the back of Shane’s sweats, hauling him closer and shamelessly groping his ass.
“Fuck, yeah, yeah, please,” Shane moans, clinging to Ilya’s shoulders and trying to wrap a leg around him. “C’mon, baby. Fuck me.”
Ilya’s eyes squeeze shut as his cock kicks, pulsing a hot spill of pre-come into his boxers. He can’t stop grinding forward, chasing that too-much-not-enough, Shane squirming and whining as they pant into each others’ mouths. Ilya grips his ass tight enough to bruise, shakes his cheeks a little to feel them jiggle, then parts them.
His fingertips brush Shane’s hole, and oh, fuck. It’s soft and open and so fucking wet, and it yields so sweetly under his touch—
“I got ready—” Shane gasps, and that’s it.
The orgasm slams through him, stealing his breath and leaving him humping forward gracelessly, driving Shane into the wall with the force of it. He buries his flushed-red face into Shane’s hair, moaning when the familiar scent of his shampoo sends another violent pulse through his body. It feels endless, spilling and spilling into his pants, the filthy-wet slide of his boxers over his sensitive cock only drawing it out as he mindlessly ruts against Shane.
“Oh my god,” Ilya groans weakly.
“Oh my god,” Shane echoes in disbelief, but he holds him close as he quivers through it, shoving his knee up for Ilya to ride it out. His big hands sweep soothingly over his back.
Ilya swallows when the aftershocks fade out and a quiet pause settles between them. It’s Shane who pushes him back, forcing him to meet Shane’s eyes. There’s an apology on his lips, but Shane kisses it away, cupping his face with both hands and laughing sweetly into it.
“You laugh at me,” Ilya complains, but he’s smiling too, dazed and stupid and lovedrunk.
“No.” Shane shakes his head, rubbing the tips of their noses together. Ilya winces a little as his oversensitive dick twitches at that. Fuck, he really is in love. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
Ilya smiles wider, chest puffing up, and pulls Shane into a deep kiss. Shane sighs into it, languidly sliding his tongue along Ilya’s, before he pushes at Ilya’s chest again.
“So, wait… which one of us were you calling desperate?”
actually bonkers to me that the MyMoonMyMan boarding/fucking smashcut exists right there on screen ! and yet ! some folks still insist hollanov are NOT fucking rough and raw with copious pain kink. like, my good brosicle,,.. they literally told you what they were doing...
saw a post that said shane is the most Boy to ever boy and i love that so much. he is so Boy.
and now i’m thinking about how he loves to be romantic and chivalrous to ilya— like when they get to the cottage and shane carries ilya’s bag in. he’s a great Boyfriend(husband.) he holds the door for ilya every chance he gets, and ilya (not so) secretly Looooooves it. when they’re at the bar with their team, shane will ask ilya if he wants a drink and go get it for him, hands it off to ilya with a little here you go, baby and then sits at a stool at the bar and ilya leans back between shane’s legs. at team cookouts, shane will tug on ilya’s arm as he’s talking to people until he’s sitting in his lap and ilya will go willingly without even pausing his conversation. shane will grin and wrap his arms around ilya’s stomach, kiss his shoulder. when they’re out to dinner and the bill comes shane will put his card down and ilya will make it a big thing, like oh thank you shane you’re sooo sweet and shane will be like ah it’s no trouble baby (they have a shared bank account.) he loves taking care of his baby!!!!!!! there’s been a rare time or two where shane and ilya are at a club and shane will let go and have a few drinks, get wonderfully tipsy and ilya will drag him out to dance. shane will hold ilya’s hips as ilya dances against him.
this doesn’t really connect to shane is such a Boy. anyway shane is such a Boy who loves taking care of his ilya
what's important to remember about the 'we didn't even kiss' unsent text is that shane is not mad at ILYA about the sex they had. he leapt readily into the sex, slutty arch that ensnared millions on display etc.
no, shane's in the elevator, biting his lips red, wishing it was ilya's spit he was tasting and he is mad at HIMSELF for wanting to be kissed, for wanting MORE and recognizes (by ilya setting the tone of the sex as competitive -- not personal, by his own estimation of their relationship) that what sex they SHOULD/MUST be having according to the twin torture nexus is not sex where they kiss each other like they need each other's mouth to breathe. 'we didn't even kiss' is 'i, shane hollander, once again want something i cannot have, because that is what i do, lug around a want so ugly and so loud and so mighty that i fear people can read it at a glance across 200 ft of cold, powdery ice.'
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