luca tells shane and ilya he wants to start going out to gay clubs by himself. they support him, of course, but it’s not *safe*, luca, don’t you know there are *bad people* out there, luca, we can’t possibly let you go without self-defense lessons
and then it’s just shane grabbing luca from behind, choking him, hitting him, tackling him onto the yoga mat, but luca can’t bring himself to hurt shane so he just takes it every time
but then shane starts calling him every name in the book — come on, you little fag, hit me, fucking cocksucker — and luca finally, finally tackles him to the ground and starts whaling on him just like shane wanted until shane’s lip is split and bloody and he’s humping luca’s leg and coming in his jeans and ilya is just watching and stroking himself in the corner
luca never does end up going to the club by himself
This is the fight/angry sex scene from my baby cow princess @myshangel 's wonderful sugar daddy au. I saw your tag asking for my take on it, and here it is. I hope I did it justice, babe!
TW for brief violence, but don't worry, it's foreplay for them.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
Ilya was going to kill him. He was going to kill him, and then he was going to go to prison for the rest of his life. They're all probably going to say that he was a psychopath stalker. He'd never get to play hockey again.
At least Alexei would finally leave him the fuck alone.
He took one last drag of the third cigarette he had smoked in the past fifteen minutes, scraping it against the side of the picture perfect building in front of him. He tucked it into his coat pocket and walked to the entrance. The doorman didn't even question his presence; he had seen Ilya around long enough to know what he was up to.
Or who he was up, rather.
As soon as the elevator arrived on the fourteenth floor, he took the few short steps forward to the door of Shane's penthouse. It took up the entire floor, ensuring he didn't need to worry about how loudly he banged his first against the hardwood door.
Shane didn't even look surprised to see him when he swung the door open. As if this was exactly what he was anticipating. And to be perfectly honest, he probably was.
"Ilya." He breathed, his eyes glassy and unfocused. Was he drunk?
He shoved past him into the foyer, throwing his jacket onto the ground and kicking off his shoes. He'd follow Hollander's house rules, but he wasn't going to put his things away neatly. A small act of defiance, but one nonetheless. He whipped himself around so that he was facing the other man.
"Well?!" He exclaimed, his arms crossed over his chest.
Shane blinked repeatedly, looking confused by what was being asked. "Well what?" He slurred, his brows furrowing as he swayed slightly. Yup, definitely drunk.
"You know what, Hollander. Buying my fucking building? I fucking told you not to do that shit!"
Shane rolled his eyes before walking in the direction of the kitchen, Ilya stomping along behind him. "What I decide to invest in is none of your concern, Ilya. You know I purchase property, and that's exactly what I did." He snatched up a half empty glass of brown liquid and took a swig, grimacing as he slammed it back down onto the counter. "Besides, what are you so worried about what I'm doing for? Don't you have some new, hot plaything to mess around with?"
Ilya's nostrils flared as he bounded closer. "What the fuck are you talking about?!"
Shane laughed bitterly. "You know what the fuck I'm talking about. That fucking girl who had your tongue down her throat at the club a couple weeks ago. Surely she can give you whatever you need better than me, right? Or did you go out and find another lonely, pathetic older man like me to leech off of?"
"Go fuck yourself, you fucking piece of shit! You say I leech?! I do not ask for half of the fucking bullshit you give! Fucking prick!" Ilya shouted in utter disbelief. "We make arrangement and then you throw it in my face like this?!"
Shane swallowed hard, his body straightening out. "I.. I didn't mean it like that..."
"I do not care how you mean it! It is fucked up to say, Hollander! Did you fucking forget that you left me?! You ghosted me! Act like I do not exist anymore. You have not answered a text from me in weeks, then, what; get mad because I danced with some fucking girl?!"
"You did it right in front of me. You stared while you did it. You just wanted to hurt me." Shane replied, his tone clipped.
"You hurt me first!" Ilya roared as he threw his arms out. Shane went to reach for his drink, but Ilya grabbed his arm. "Nyet. You have drank too much already. No more."
Shane scoffed. "Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do? If I want to drink myself into my fucking grave, I will!"
"Hollander, no. You are being fucking stupid."
Shane ignored the other man and quickly grabbed the glass, going to swallow what was left until Ilya yanked it out of his hand. Shane growled in frustration, but when he went to take it back, Ilya whipped the glass at the wall, making it shatter across the marble flooring.
"What the actual fuck, Ilya?! What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Me?" Ilya asked incredulously. "What the fuck is wrong with me? What is wrong with you?!" He yelled, shoving Shane backwards once, twice, until finally Shane stumbled back onto the leather sofa. He shook his head and pushed Ilya back.
"Fuck off!" He yelled, squirming as Ilya wrapped his arms around him and squeezed, effectively making it near impossible to move. Without thinking, he leaned forward and sunk his teeth into Ilya's forearm, biting hard as the other man dropped his arms and let out a string of Russian curses. Before he could say anything else, Ilya slapped him across the face.
Shane whimpered, his breathing going ragged. He pressed his hand against his hot, stinging cheek as he glared up at Ilya, the two men staring each other down. Shane could feel the heat in his belly burning hotter than the mark on his face. "Fuck." He whispered before lunging forward and yanking Ilya into a filthy, open mouthed kiss.
They both groaned into each other's mouths, their tongues slipping in and rubbing against one other sloppily. Shane knotted his hands into Ilya's curls, tugging hard as they began to grind their bodies together at a quick, frenzied pace.
Ilya pulled back before they both came fully clothed. "On the couch, now. Face down."
Shane quickly stripped himself of any clothing, forgoing his usual ritual of folding everything neatly. He needed it so bad he could feel it in his fucking bones. He laid across the armrest of the sofa, the side of it pressing into his stomach as he heard the sounds of Ilya removing his own clothes. He moaned loudly into the leather when he felt Ilya's hand come down in a quick smack against his ass, his fingers sinking lower until they were circling the rim of his pulsing hole. He froze when he felt a lingering wetness, felt that Shane was much too loose.
"You fucked someone else?" He asked slowly, his body stiffening. "Was it that stupid fucking assistant that is not good for you, hm?"
Shane shook his head furiously, wanting to soothe him as quickly as possible. He ignored the fluttering he felt in his gut in response to Ilya's obvious jealousy. "No! Of course not, Ilya. I just, you know. Got off earlier. Haven't.... I haven't been with anyone else ever since we met."
Ilya hummed softly, clearly pleased with the admission. "Been saving this all for me, Mr. Hollander?" He teased, breaking into a broken moan as he pushed inside.
"Fuck. Holy shit, Ilya. Fuckfuckfuck!"
Shane mirrored Ilya's moans, muffled by the cushions as Ilya began to move in and out of him. They usually took much more care with their encounters, but this was exactly what he needed right now. He needed to be fucked hard, fast, and dirty; needed to feel like Ilya's slut.
"Can't. Fucking. Believe. You." Ilya grunted, each word punctuated with a thrust of his hips. "You think you can leave me? Think you can give this up?"
Ilya gripped Shane's hips and pistoned in faster, the room filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and their own moans. "No one can fuck you this good. No one knows this body like me, yes?"
Shane dug his fingers into the spaces of the cushions, whining loudly as he rolled backwards into Ilya's movements. "Uh-huh. Nobody like you. "
"You are insane." Ilya grunted. "You are so fucking crazy, Shane. Buying my building like that. Cannot believe the shit you pull."
Shane turned his head and looked back over his shoulder, meeting Ilya's smoldering gaze as he slowed his thrusts. "Yeah. For you. M'so fucking crazy over you, Ilya. Would do it over and over again. Anything to make, fuck. Make y-you stay."
Ilya's eyes widened for no longer than a split second before they rolled back as he groaned. "Yeah? Fuck, Shane. Fuck."
He picked his speed back up, his body flushed from exertion. He leaned forward and laid on top of Shane, his mouth dragging along the back of his shoulders. He flicked his tongue out once he reached the scar on his shoulder, rubbing the tip of it up and down the marked flesh. He nipped gently, his hand gripping Shane's bicep as the older man once again shocked him to his core.
"Fuck yeah, Ilya. Mark me like you fucking own me, baby. Show everyone I'm your property."
Ilya cursed under his breath, his movements becoming shakier and less coordinated. He slotted his teeth over the scar and bit down, sucking hard as he rutted into Shane's writhing body. They were both so close.
He pulled off with a loud pop. "You are going to come, Shane. You will come, and then you will buy me fancy jewelry to make up for being asshole."
Shane laughed, sounding drunker than he did before. "Mm, yeah. Gonna cover you in diamonds. N' buy you fancy cars and designer clothes and weekend getaways. Gonna give you fucking everything. My money and my body, yeah? All fucking yours."
Ilya moaned against Shane's neck, his body feeling more and more like it was on fire. Jesus, the way he felt hearing Shane talk like that. It did things to his mind and to his heart that he couldn't let himself think too deeply on right now.
"Come for me moya lyubov; show me who you belong to. Be a good fucking boy for your owner."
Shane came with a wail, his body shaking as he splattered his cum against the side of the couch.
Ilya gasped and pumped into him faster, muttering under his breath as he came to the edge. "Gonna come in you, gonna mark you inside and fucking out. Want you to feel me dripping out of your sweet fucking hole for days."
Shane arched his back as he panted, "Oh god yeah Ilya, fuck. Yours, m' yours."
Ilya came with a growl, shooting hot ropes of cum inside of Shane before collapsing on top of him.
They said nothing for a moment, their heavy breathing being the only sound around them.
Shane eventually broke the silence. "Can you see a mark?"
Ilya felt his heart sink. Shit, he didn't really mean it.
"Yes..." He trailed off, waiting for Shane to start panicking. To his surprise, he became visibly thrilled.
"Mm, good." He murmured with a smile. "So good."
Ilya said nothing, didn't move an inch. He was sick with the worry that as soon as this bubble popped, as soon as the haze faded away, he'd be exiled from Shane's life once more.
"Stay with me." Shane whispered, so softly that any other person would've missed it. Anyone who wasn't so desperate for any scraps of attention they could possibly get from the man.
"Stay here tonight. We can shower and order take out from that Italian place you like with the chicken parmesan. Watch silly movies in bed until we fall asleep. And tomorrow we can go to breakfast and pick out whatever jewelry you wanted, okay?"
Ilya huffed a laugh. "I was not serious, you do not have to buy me something. I think my building was enough, yes?"
Shane wriggled underneath him, turning his head to him as much as he was able to. "I know. But I want to. I wanna spoil you. Will you let me?"
Ilya bit his lip and smiled in a way he never really had before Shane, soft and sweet. Like he always did when Shane made him feel warm and gooey inside like this.
"Yes, okay. If you want to spend your money on me so badly, I will not stop you."
Shane grinned at that. "Yeah, I do... Okay, let's order and then we can shower while we wait for it to be delivered."
His smile did that same thing to Ilya's heart like he had felt earlier, the familiar buzzing in his body coming back in spades.
haasollanov ficlet: let me show you how to do this
Ilya has been inside Luca Haas for all of a minute when the kid starts crying on his cock.
After-dinner drinks had escalated more quickly than Shane anticipated. He’d no sooner brushed a hand across Luca’s thigh and suggested that perhaps he could mold him into the next Shane Hollander—not just on the ice, but in the bedroom—when Luca surged forward and kissed him. Please, Shane, please teach me, Luca had panted into his open mouth, high and needy, like the poor puck bunnies that used to throw themselves at him in the before.
If you want me to teach you, Shane had said, you’ll need to call me Mr. Hollander.
Luca had obliged. Ilya looked like he was going to come on the spot. They hadn’t made it to the bedroom.
Now Luca is on all fours on their living room rug and Ilya is pounding into him hard enough that his sculpted arms look like they’ll give out beneath him. He’s gone from whimpering to keening to straight-up sobbing faster than he can say fuck me, Captain—which he has been, loudly and repeatedly.
It’s a little bit like listening to a recording of himself when he was younger, and it’s got Shane leaking in his jeans, but Luca doesn’t need to know that right now.
“I thought you wanted to be like me, Haas.” Shane kneels and tangles his fingers in Luca’s cornsilk hair. When he doesn’t respond, apparently too drunk on Ilya’s cock to care (and Shane gets it, he really does), Shane tugs sharply until their eyes meet and their lips are centimeters apart.
“I do,” Luca gasps. His cheeks—still so round with baby fat in a way that makes him look unbearably vulnerable—are dripping with tears Shane wants to chase with his tongue. “I do, Mr. Hollander, please.”
Fuck, Ilya mouths.
“You think I cry like a little bitch when my husband fucks me?”
Ilya raises an eyebrow at him, which Shane chooses to ignore.
Luca shakes his head just as Ilya’s hips snap forward in another punishing thrust, filling the room with the filthy slap of skin on skin.
“N-no, Mr. Hollander.”
The kid’s body lurches forward and his face collides with Shane’s chest, leaving an unfortunate smear of sweat on his t-shirt. He peels it off with careful fingers and tosses it aside.
“Oh, fuck,” Luca moans. “Look at you.”
“Really, Haas,” Shane says, tutting even as his chest swells. It’s not like Luca hasn’t seen him in the locker room, but now the kid’s eyes are saucers, the way his own must’ve been the first time he’d seen Ilya’s pecs. He drags a thumb through the tear track on Luca’s cheek before sucking it into his mouth. It only makes Luca keen harder. “Listen to yourself. You sound pathetic. You’ll never be like me at this rate.”
Despite being balls deep in his rookie’s ass, Ilya manages to huff out a laugh that he tries to cover with a groan. Just for that, Shane vows to get cum in his eyes later tonight.
“Please teach me.” Luca’s voice cracks. “Please, I’ll do anything.”
“Oh, I know you will,” Shane says. He realizes as he says it that the situation is beyond inappropriate, but his husband looks blissed the fuck out and his own cock is dripping steadily and he can’t bring himself to care right now. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? So fucking desperate for it. No self-respect. Little slut.” He pets Luca’s hair just like he does Anya’s fur; there is something hopelessly puppyish about the boy. “If you want to improve, you have to admit where you’re falling short, yeah?”
“Yes, Mr. Hollander.” Luca can barely get the words out. Ilya’s every thrust seems to knock the air from his lungs; his mouth drops open on a long whine as Ilya fucks him mercilessly. “I’m a—I’m a little bitch. I’m pathetic and desperate and—oh, God.” Luca chokes on a moan. “I’m a slut. Your slut. Captain’s slut.”
Well, fuck. It’s a little like looking in a mirror, isn’t it?
“That’s right, Haas. Good boy.” Shane glances up at Ilya. His husband’s eyes are molten, his lower lip caught between his teeth like he’s trying to hold back a moan. “But you’re lucky. You know why?”
“Uh-uh,” Luca says, breathless.
“I said I’d be your teacher, and I meant it.” Shane cups Luca’s face, fingers digging into the fat of his cheeks. He pinches them together just hard enough to make the kid wince. “I’m going to let my husband fuck you until you learn to take his cock properly.”
Luca moans. Good. Shane is being awfully generous.
“You’ll never be as good as me, of course,” Shane says lightly, and Luca looks up at him, eyes wide and wet. His lower lip trembles. It’s pathetic in a way that makes Shane’s cock throb in his jeans. “But I’ll get you so close, Haas. Almost as good as me.”
Shane kisses him, plunging his tongue between Luca’s lips and savoring the whimper that escapes, and then Ilya does moan, long and low in a way that sends heat knifing through Shane’s belly. His relentless thrusts keep knocking their teeth together until Shane finally pulls away.
Luca gapes at him like he’s a god, and to Luca, Shane supposes, he is. He really should discourage that sort of thing—it’s not good for the team to have a hierarchy—but his dick likes it too much.
“You should thank Mr. Hollander, Haasy,” Ilya says through clenched teeth as he switches to a slow, dirty grind. “You are lucky to have such good teacher.”
“Thank you.” Luca’s response is immediate. Shane isn’t going to tell him so, but the way the kid takes orders from Ilya is, of course, all too familiar. “Fuck, thank you, Mr. Hollander—oh my God. Right there, yes, don’t stop.”
It all crystallizes for him, then. Ilya taught him everything he knows. It had been unbearably sexy, and Shane wouldn’t have changed a thing. But apparently some part of him has been waiting for his turn. To teach. To correct. To watch someone absorb his every word like it’s gospel.
“You really want to thank me, Haas?” Shane asks.
Luca nods frantically. “Uh-huh.”
“Then let’s find a better use for that mouth,” Shane says, and pulls out his cock. “Let me show you how to do this.”
---
Later, when Luca has collapsed onto his stomach and come is dripping from his ass and off his nose, Ilya breaks the silence.
“Is okay, Haasy. Shane cries like little bitch when I fuck him, too.”
“Take it back, Rozanov!” Shane lunges for him and they topple onto the couch.
From somewhere on the floor comes a small, exhausted voice.
“Oh, no.”
Shane freezes mid-tickle.
“This is so terrible,” Luca murmurs. “My dads are fighting.”
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 our 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.
inspired by this post by @ilyasmole , the whole thing is incredible, but specifically this part:
ilya's own fingers dig into the soft flesh of shane's waist and he tugs him impossibly closer, murmurs, "are you gonna come for me, hollander?" all low and sensual, and shane can barely speak, can only give a desperate nod as his eyes squeeze shut and his cock bobs in the mirror. "yeah? you gonna show me how you come from just this?" and he punctuates the words with the slow pounding of his hips, burying his nose in the side of shane's face and keeping his eyes fixated on where shane continues to leak.
thank you for your beautiful inspiring wonderful hornyposting <3
dealing with a chronic illness flareup and the nonsense that happens in your comments section… gods strongest soldier i fear
<3
after three brain surgeries, even the nastiest ao3 comment is ehhh. like ok susan, a neurosurgeon has removed chunks of my skull and cut into my brain three times, you think your comment that’s basically a couple spelling errors and a fundamental misunderstanding of the purpose of fanfic can faze me?? fuck all the way off
Absolutely no pressure but any updates on the next ch of Shane Hollander is not a stalker? I need the foursome but ofc take your time to cook, just curious, thanks!
Hey, thank you for asking! I am in the middle of a brutal chronic illness/pain flare that’s making it hard to write(/function/live), so unfortunately I don’t have an ETA right now. But I promise we will get that Shane/Ilya/Luca/Marlow scene, even if it kills me and pisses off half my comments section haha.
Not sure if anyone else out there can relate (& if you can, come talk to me), but man, it’s rough when your body and brain won’t let you do something that feels like a core part of your identity. What is a creative who can’t create? I have to remind myself that my identity isn’t tied to my output. This shit (trigeminal neuralgia, chronic migraine, MCAS, & some other equally dumb/painful conditions) has taken a lot from me but I’m still a writer, even if I barely feel human at the moment.
Anyway, that was probably way more info than you wanted! It means so much that you’re excited about it (honestly, it will keep me going today) and I am looking forward to delivering the foursome ASAP. Thanks for any good health vibes you can send my way.
What if Ilya brought Luca into the relationship and Shane went along with it to make him happy, but Shane just gets more and more unhappy and jealous of Ilya banging Luca alone and Ilya isn’t paying attention because he’s sex drunk... Until eventually Shane breaks down and says he can't do it anymore, and he'd understand if Ilya chose Luca because obviously Shane is really boring and not enough to please Ilya, but he needs Ilya to make a choice about the future of their relationship? What then?
Hmm, interesting question!
I love me some toxic Hollanov, but if we’re talking about a post-TLG scenario where they’re married and on the Centaurs together, I have a hard time believing Ilya would let the situation get to that point. He’s always been so good about checking in with Shane (Consent King Ilya Rozanov!), and I don’t think he would enjoy having Luca in their relationship if Shane wasn’t very vocally and obviously into it too.
If we’re talking about a canon-divergent scenario during the TLG timeline like in my fic shane hollander is not a stalker, where they’re not yet married, playing on different teams, and living apart (and maybe this is what you were asking about?), then I can see how the physical distance between them and their well-documented communication issues could potentially get us here. Even so, I think Ilya would horrified once he realized what was happening, and he’d walk away from Luca in a heartbeat.
“Does it turn you on?” Shane asks, licks a stripe up Ilya’s dick. “When he calls you Mr. Rozanov?” Shane punctuates the question by sinking his hot, wet mouth over Ilya.
Ilya lurches, fights against the press of Shane’s strong hands and buries his free hand alongside the other in Shane’s hair. He moans, feels himself losing whatever battle Shane has warred against him. In a last-ditch effort, he tugs on Shane’s hair, pulls his mouth from Ilya’s cock with an obscene slurp. Ilya leans down, cheek brushing against the top of Shane’s head.
“No, kotenok, it does not,” he breathes, gasps, into Shane’s hair. Ilya leans further down, delivers a sharp nip to Shane’s ear, before whispering, “It turns me on when he calls me captain.”
it's finished! my toxic hollanov infidelity fic where, in a TLG-era depressive spiral, ilya gets outed after photos leak of luca haas blowing him in an alley behind a club.
it's not going to be everyone's cup of tea. but i personally had fun with it, i think it has some of the best prose i’ve ever written, and so if you fancy some angst with a side of meditation on fate and control and what happens if you let certain things that simmer under the surface of canon (no one can make shane feel the way ilya does, ilya would rather lie than confront shane with the truth of how unhappy he is in ottawa, these characters are soulmates and destined to be together but at what cost....) then this could be the one for you!
okay walk with me so Shane and Ilya can’t find a dog sitter for Anya while they’re at the All-Stars game. Sveta has a work thing, the Hollanders are on vacation that weekend, and that one time when they hired some lady off of an app she tracked mud into the house and Shane nearly had an aneurysm (there is that fancy pet hotel downtown but last time Anya stayed there they received a voicemail that said Anya was being a little spoiled and wasn’t playing well with others and Ilya took it so personally that he swore to never take her back there) and hey! Luca isn’t going to All-Stars so why doesn’t he just dog sit?? he loves dogs and wasn’t planning on going anywhere over the break anyway sooo he stays over a few nights at the Hollander-Rozanov residence and oh I dunno maybe Ilya sees something he wasn’t meant to over the dog camera they have set up in the living room that they tooootally meant to warn Luca about but must have forgot to mention and Ilya knows he probably shouldn’t but he watches the rookie jerk off and moan both his AND Shane’s name as he comes and so that’s how Ilya finally convinces Shane that Luca would definitely be down if they asked him to have a threesome. send post.
i am so deeply curious about hollanov schrödinger’s kidnapping luca 👀👀👀 (respectfully) i have my hands outstretched asking for more like oliver twist
If you do not want to read some vaguely DD:DNE (haas)hollanov concepts, do not read on.
Imagine that Shane had to quit hockey for whatever reason. He still ends up with Ilya, and maybe things are … not great. Depending on your desired level of horror, maybe Ilya is directly responsible for Shane no longer playing hockey. Regardless, he ends up in the metaphorical basement — or probably the attic with a little window which he uses to look out onto the world that used to belong to him. He is super bitter about it, obviously. It makes him fucking hateful.
And then, maybe ten years later, Luca comes along with his baby face and fucking incredible stats, and people are saying that there hasn’t been a rookie this promising since Shane Hollander vanished from the public eye all those years ago. And maybe Shane watches Ilya start watching Luca, and it makes him see red, and maybe Ilya notices and starts watching him even more intently (I love a good manufactured jealousy moment).
Maybe Ilya pushes Shane to befriend Luca, and Shane doesn’t want to — because he hates him, both because he’s a prodigy and because his husband won’t stop staring. Maybe he does it anyway, because Ilya said so.
Maybe Luca has a little slip-up on the ice and needs someone to care for him for a bit.
the meltdown ilya will have if he ever finds out shane used to call rose babe. he never calls ilya babe, and it doesn't matter if shane tells him that's just what guys call their gfs and he was just doing the same, ilya is gonna be so dramatic about this
landrygate ii - babegazi is gonna be two weeks of ilya going "idk why don't you ask your babe rose landry" "oh wouldn't you rather be kissing rose, she's such a babe" "look shane, that pretty girl smiled at you, you wanna go call her babe too?"
it's important to note that shane calls ilya baby often, and ilya would never want to be called anything else, but he's gonna ride this wave for as long as it gets him shane kissing his neck and saying he's the only one for him, calling him every sweet name he knows in english, french and russian. shane knows it's ilya playing, but if there's even a tiny grey cloud over ilya when he remembers those months, shane is gonna kiss it away again and again, as much as he needs
ilya railing the life out of shane with his hand around shane's throat while grunting, "take this fucking cock, hollander. good boy, good fucking boy" and shane is laying there making this face cause he's so fucked and blissed out:
"The Back of Pride Night", Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Scott Hunter [Hudson Williams, Connor Storrie, Francois Arnaud] from Heated Rivalry, the bonus rear cover from the [REDACTED] zine
Mar 2026
I messed up a few things with this one, mostly because it was going to have a big title text over the top of it. Shane and Scott's hands on Ilya's back look horrible (again, they weren't actually meant to be visible), and while I'm tempted to go in and change it, I'm not going to because hey, guess what? People make mistakes too. The little rainbow bit was a colour swatch from another part of the image, and I messed up the layers when I was overlaying it. If you know how hard it is to differentiate between 700+ colour layers, you'll understand my plight right now.
(Also, the first time I did this, I spelled both "Rozanov" and "Hollander" wrong and had to argue with my own brain even after I fixed it because I'd stared at it for so long they'd ceased to be words)
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