once shane moves in with ilya and they’re able to codependencymaxx i think shane’s parents (probably yuna) broach the topic of how they’re together all the time but shane cuts her off before she can even say anything with “I know!! isn’t it great we get to do everything together it’s the best!!! we thought we’d have to wait until we retired but we get to play together and live together and i’m very happy and Ilya is too!!!” and she’s like okay honeymoon period got it and then like 5 years later thinks about trying again but decides it’s not worth it because those two want to live in eachothers skin but that’s not possible to this will do.
Another one for the pile of Shane wearing Ilya’s jersey to remind him who he is. And who Shane knows Ilya is.
At some point during Ilya’s first year in Ottawa, the losing streak starts getting to him. He knew what he signed up for, knew that it would take time to rebuild. And he’d told himself, he’d done it before. Boston had been out of the playoffs for years when he was drafted and it had taken him two more years to drag them back there. Still though. Ilya hates losing. Even with the upside of having Shane, he gets frustrated and moody and he can’t take it out on his team because it’s not their fault they’re dogshit and to add insult to injury the Metros are doing well and definitely going for another deep playoff run—of course they are, Shane is dragging them there by the skin of his teeth and contrary to Ilya he has some semi-competent teammates to back him up. Ilya tries not to take it out on Shane either, but Shane notices.
It doesn’t help that there's an article going viral today, asking if Shane Hollander is finally, indisputably the best hockey player, now that Ilya Rozanov has fucked off to Ottawa and can’t compete with him in the scoring race anymore. It especially doesn’t help that Ilya says, viciously, petulantly, embarrassingly, “it only took half a season for people to think you are better now.”
“Well, the numbers don’t lie,” Shane says, who’s leading in the scoring race. Ilya's left winger, Bood, is good, but without a good right winger, Ilya’s not even in the top five right now.
And Ilya does manage a “skill is more than fucking numbers,” but it comes out more bitter than their usual banter.
So Shane kisses him, and tells Ilya to get into bed and close this eyes and not to peek and Ilya isn’t really in the mood for elaborate sex games, he’s tired, okay, he just wants a nice blowjob or some cuddly spooning sex, but Shane sounds so hopeful that Ilya sighs and closes his eyes.
When Shane gets on the bed with him and straddles him, Ilya opens his eyes but Shane immediately covers them with his hands, “you promised, Ilya,” and Ilya says “fine okay,” and Shane huffs and kisses him and Ilya keeps his eyes closed. He keeps his eyes closed all through the slow but increasingly filthy kisses, keeps his eyes closed when Shane wrestles Ilya’s shirt and then his pants off, and with a frankly herculean effort keeps his eyes closed when Shane takes his dick into his mouth. He even keeps them closed when Shane moves away, when there's some rustling, the tell-tale snap of the lube bottle, Shane's warm and slick hand around his dick. And Ilya would really like to watch Shane ride him, but for some reason he promised so he squeezes his eyes shut harder against the temptation and then there's more shuffling and it feels unfamiliar when Shane straddles him, and then Shane's hand is around him, holding him while he starts taking him in, just the tip, hot and tight and familiar but different and it's right there at the edge of Ilya's consciousness but he's also just incredibly riled up, fighting against opening his eyes to watch his beautiful boyfriend and fighting to keep his hips from snapping up, and he doesn't know where the strength for this kind of self-control comes from except that Shane asked him to, and Ilya will always try to do what Shane asks of him.
Finally, Shane speaks. “So I'm the best.”
“Second best,” Ilya says, a reflex as old as their relationship.
“Not right now. I'm leading you in points and assists.”
Ilya grinds his teeth, but admits, “not right now but just in stats,” and wonders why Shane is twisting the knife and why Ilya is still hard and straining.
“Look at me,” Shane says.
And Ilya opens his eyes. Shane is straddling him but in reverse which is why it felt so unfamiliar, they don't do it often like that. Shane's looking at Ilya over the back of his shoulder, wearing a—a jersey, fuck, Ilya's jersey, ROZANOV across his back like a brand with the number 81 below it.
And Shane, who always adamantly refused jersey sharing because it's bad luck, because he's not a WAG, he's a player and Ilya better not forget, that Shane says, “If I'm the best, then what does it say that I'm wearing your number?” and slams himself down on Ilya's dick, taking him all the way. It's a question Ilya can't possibly answer because Shane’s riding the hell out of him, and he comes so hard he sees god (Shane Hollander. He still sees Shane Hollander, god of hockey, not that Ilya will ever say that out loud, but it's not like he can talk right now anyway.)
After, Shane holds Ilya, still wearing his fucking jersey, and Ilya is going to have a stroke, and Shane says, “You're still the only one who can challenge me. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but I know you can rebuild Ottawa. You're going to turn them into a contender team, just like you did Boston, and I can't wait to beat you in the Conference finals in a few years.”
“Hm yes,” Ilya says, barely able to string a coherent sentence together, especially in English. “You better win all your cups with Montreal now because in a few years, it will be my turn again.”
“Keep dreaming, asshole,” Shane says and presses a very gentle kiss to Ilya's forehead.
Ilya doesn't say that when he dreams, when he really lets himself dream, he's lifting the cup together with Shane. So he just turns his head up and gets a very gentle kiss to his mouth, and for now, that's enough.
I've just been to my first pride this year (woop woop!) so naturally, I'm thinking of Hollanov at pride after they've been outed. (Some internalised homophobia, imposter syndrome. All resolved at the end)
After their first year playing together, enjoying actually getting to spend time together and having the support of some fans, but also dealing with the homophobia and backlash of being an out couple in the MHL, they've been working hard and trying to rebuild Shane's image and make the league more accepting in general. Someone suggests they attend pride, and everyone in the Centaurs, as well as the sponsors and Ottawa officials, love the idea.
Despite the pride nights, the acceptance the MHL has given has always been performative, so the teams have never gone to local pride events. As both Ilya and Shane were closeted with lots to lose if anyone started asking questions, neither of them have ever actually gone to a generic pride event just for themselves.
At the suggestion, Ilya practically starts vibrating. He loves embracing his identity as a bisexual man. He never thought he'd be able to be this open, this free, be this happy, and it's important to keep marching for progress, keep making people visible, and celebrate the wins. Shane, who never wanted his sexuality to be his whole identity and just wanted to play hockey and have a quiet life otherwise, is less enthused by the idea, but does love the idea of spending the day making his husband happy. So it's agreed.
On the day, during the march, Ilya and Shane are basically front and centre on the truck carrying them and the rest of the Centaurs through the street. Everyone can see them, and everyone is so happy their local heroes are there, leading the way, waving their progress and bisexual flags. And it's great. Really. But initially, Shane finds himself basically feeling like this is like another PR job. Another modelling job. His purpose is to stand there, smile, wave, and make others happy. Only this time he's meant to do it and be gay. And somehow, despite being out for a year now, doing countless interviews with Ilya, and having adjusted a little more to this being part of his public identity, it feels impossible, because he doesn't know what he's supposed to be doing.
All Shane can think about is how he's standing. Is it right? Is it gay enough? He's nowhere near as flamboyant as most of these people. What if- what if he's not doing 'being gay' right? Is he even wearing the right thing? He'd run his outfit by Ilya that morning who had groaned that guttural sound that meant he wished he could eat him alive, but it wasn't particularly colourful. Should he have more merch on? He hasn't let anyone paint his face because it makes his skin feel tight and sticky, but maybe he should, and-
Ilya, who is in his element, grinning at little kids running around with flags, bubble machines, glow sticks, and more, and is decked out in every bit of merch possible, knows something is wrong straight away, and taps out with Troy so he can pull Shane away and try and have a private moment whilst surrounded by literally thousands of people. Thankfully the team kind of huddle closer, protecting them a bit, and both Shane and Ilya love them all the more for it.
With gentle words, a few tender, teasing kisses, and some deep breaths, Ilya calms him down enough that he can do what Ilya says, and just look around for a moment. Just watch people's faces when they see him. When he waves. And better yet, when he reaches towards Ilya, takes his hand.
Tentatively, Shane tries it, something loosening inside him when just taking Ilya's hand makes someone coo loudly.
"See, moy lyubimyy? There is no wrong way to be here. This is just meant to be you. Who you are. You know how I know you are gay enough even without sparkles? You get symptoms of withdraw if you go a day without my dick," Ilya grins, then brushes their noses together when Shane calls him an asshole, much to the crowds delight (because try as they might, there really isn't anywhere to hide right now).
Slowly, Shane starts to relax, to just try and focus on Ilya, who makes him laugh without even trying. The pull Ilya's had on him has always been nigh irresistible, and Shane realises that here is the one place - the one place - that he doesn't have to censor himself at all. As the parade goes on, Shane can't help but hug Ilya more often, snaking his arms around Ilya's waist from behind and cradling him close. Dancing with him in a way that isn't fully open, but definitely isn't reserved either. Even dipping him for a deep kiss once or twice. Each time, the crowd goes wild, and Shane can't help but grin. Because the whole day is just about being with Ilya. About letting others know they're allowed to love the person they love. About celebrating the fact that they fucking adore each other, and would choose each other over everything else, time and time and time again. After so many years of being terrified of the consequences of being out, of worrying about losing his job, Shane gets to celebrate the part of him he was always most ashamed about. It's healing, and it's cathartic, and it's wonderful.
And Ilya, who was so desperate for Shane to touch him in public for years, who always felt like he was going to be a secret, forbidden and shrouded in darkness, simply glows. Shane's own personal ray of sunshine.
Do you get it? Zhou Guanyu posted on Xiaohongshu(rednote), a Chinese social platform, with the caption "Making yourself happy is what it's all about" — this line is from "Rice Field" by Jay Chou, his favorite singer! The full verse goes: "Smile, success isn't the goal; making yourself happy is what it's all about. The paper airplane of childhood has finally come back to me now."
I'm in tears... In zhou's heart, PIA's always been P1.😭😭😭
this show forcibly dragging me out of slump. thank you connor storrie for accurately portraying the slavic special: self-sabotage yearning paired with the classic refusal to talk about your feelings. may your pillow always be cold on both sides, your socks always dry and your hair always perfect.
