#ilya replies

[bostonlilyxo]

@gamechxnger said: [txt] you r

Ilya's English must've been failing him because when he saw the text from Hunter, he squinted at it for a good minute before giving up his attempt to translate it.

With a snort, he texted back.

[to: Ancient One] Am I what? Do you need help with English? Thought this was only my problem.

[bostonlilyxo]

Anonymous said: "So what does it feel like being adopted by the Hollanders?" Cliff chuckles at Ilya and elbows him gently, it's all supposed to be lighthearted banter okay, nothing to serious. "You know they say that Mrs. Hollander now has two boys to tear people into shreds for, no one's ever gonne chirp back at you anymore, man."

Despite his typical impulse to look proud, Ilya's eyes softened at the mention of his in-laws. "It is amazing," he replied surprisingly softly. It was genuine. He adored Shane's family. They were like the family he never got to have in his childhood.

Yuna sometimes reminded him so much of his mother. Even if she could be ruthless as a manager, off the ice, she shone with a warmth that made him envious. Similarly, David was everything he wished his own father could've been to him.

"I love all of them," he added with a nod. "Though, you are right. Yuna can be scary sometimes."

At the last part, he smirked at Cliff. "Yes, maybe do not tease me as much in front of her. She might kill you."

[bostonlilyxo]

@montrealjane said: "Did you know that the smell that so many people like, of freshly cut grass, is a distress signal? It's an aromatic alarm to heal wounds, warn neighboring plants of danger, and attract insects that prey on plant-eating pests."

Ilya blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Huh. I did not know this," he admitted before splaying himself across Shane's lap. It was his favorite place to rest his head.

He peered up at his partner before a mischevious glint showed in his eyes. "Did you get this fact from your boring books?"

[bostonlilyxo]

@montrealjane said: Shane had spent far too long staring at online shopping pages trying to figure out what exactly you buy for a man who seemingly already owned everything. The answer, as it turned out, was apparently not much. Or at least not one big thing. Instead, he ended up with a basket. A ridiculously oversized basket. One that looked like it belonged in some sort of holiday catalog. Inside was a collection of things Shane had quietly taken note of over the past few months. Russian snacks he had tracked down after way too much time spend with translating things back and forth and almost having a total meltdown over delivery issues and taxes. A few specialty teas. Several expensive chocolate bars. A bag of premium coffee. A jar of nutella. Two different hot sauces because Shane couldn't remember which one Ilya had mentioned liking and refused to take the risk. There was a bottle of decent vodka tucked into one corner too. The one his father mentioned Ilya liked when they first came out to his parents. There's a wooden gift box containing a set of crystal vodka glasses etched with his jersey number, accompanied by polished stone chilling cubes because apparently Shane had developed Opinions about proper vodka presentation. And sitting directly in the middle of everything else was a small potted chili plant. Not because it matched anything. Not because it was particularly impressive. But because Ilya had once spent almost ten minutes talking about peppers with an alarming amount of enthusiasm and Shane had apparently decided that was important information.

When Shane had brought out the basket of goods, Ilya stared at it in shock. "Shane...?"

His eyes darted between his partner and the basket before crossing over to the table. He begun digging through the contents, amazed at all of the individual gifts. There was so much attention to detail from the brand of his favorite vodka to the Russian snacks he'd been craving over the past few months.

"Shane, this is..." His eyes lit up even more when he saw the pepper plant. "You got me pepper plant and my favorite vodka...?"

He couldn't help it. He quickly made his way over to his husband and half-tackled him in a warm embrace. He first peppered Shane's freckles with kisses before properly kissing the man on the mouth with added passion.

He didn't stop kissing Shane until they were panting and out of breath. He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together with a small, dazed smile. "This is the best gift you've ever given me..." He paused suddenly, an abrupt teasing edge to his voice. "Well, besides your blow jobs."

More seriously, he added, "Thank you. I love it. Love you too."

[bostonlilyxo]

@montrealjane said: "Lookie." a small voice says if Ilya turns around to face it. There in front of him is a very small someone. Someone that might seem oddly familiar. The sun catches on short, dark hair, dark eyes, round face, rosy cheeks littered with freckles, barely reaching Ilya's knees in height. From the looks of it the child is barely more than a year old or maybe two. The small someone waddles forward holding something out for him to take that looks suspiciously like a puck. A puck that looks way too big in tiny clumsy hands. If Ilya takes a closer look at it, he will see a date but the numbers are a little blurry- something something 2021. And then suddenly they're on the ice. The child waddles forward on tiny skates, squealing with happiness as they slide forward a few feet, giggles as they slow to an halt again - almost falling - but remains standing and clapping their tiny hands a few times for the successful maneuver. Now Ilya finds his own feet in skates too, they look a little worn and once his eyes look up again, the child is nowhere to be seen. Chuckles from behind as small arms wrap around his knees. This time the voice is a little lighter, dark curly hair, messier and longer, the same freckles but blue eyes this time and they look up at him when he turns around. "Papa-" she says, looking at him like he's the sun to her universe. Somewhere in the distance a dog barks. It feels familiar too. Paws that scramble on the ice with claws looking for purchase. A wet snout pokes at the small girls cheek and she giggles again turning her head away. "Nooooo-" she half whines as the dog licks her face.

Ilya came home to an empty house after the long road trip, dragging his feet over the threshold like every step drained the life out of him. He dropped his carry‑on on the couch and stared at it for a long moment before deciding that unpacking could be tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, he didn’t have the energy for anything more than existing.

He didn't bother with cooking, and instead opted for a fast food stop at McDonald's on the way home. He was sure that Shane would have been aghast from his Big Mac meal, but he wasn't too worried about it. He'd work off the calories with exercise and practice.

He texted Shane to say he’d made it home safely. They talked for a few minutes--enough for Ilya to feel the warmth of him through the screen, but not enough to fill the hollow space in his chest. When he finally admitted he was exhausted, it wasn’t a lie. It was a bone‑deep heaviness, the kind that came from much more than just travel.

After a quick shower and the motions of his nightly routine, he collapsed into bed. The sheets were cold. The room was quiet. Much too quiet.

He tried not to think about how much he missed Shane--His warmth, his voice, and the grounding presence that made the world feel less sharp. But the ache settled in anyway, all too familiar and unwelcome.

Sleep pulled him under before he could think too hard about any of it.

It wasn't long before he found himself in a bizarre dream. Suddenly, he was in a skating rink and heard a child's voice from behind him. He whirled around, blinking and looking down at the toddler. He furrowed his eyebrows, taking in the young boy's features. Why did the child look so familiar?

A soft smile crossed his face and he knelt down to the boy's height when the puck was held out towards him. "So you're learning hockey?" he remarked. He reached out to claim the offered puck before he was suddenly on the ice and watching the child skate ahead of him.

The longer he was in the toddler's presence, it abruptly clicked to him who the child was. "...Shane...?" Even at the kid's age, those freckles and deep eyes gave him away quickly. Not to mention, he'd seen the pictures of baby Shane at the Hollanders' family home.

He watched Shane waddle forward, suddenly laughing in delight at his ability to skate. It made Ilya's heart squeeze in his chest. Adorable.

Though, before he could pick the toddler up, there was suddenly another child in front of him, taking Shane's place. It was a little girl this time. Her features felt familiar even though he'd never seen her before. Her hair resembled his own, but even more, her eyes reminded him of his mother's. The freckles lining her cheeks were distinctly much like Shane's.

And then he heard her call him her "papa." His eyes widened significantly. This girl was his child? His and Shane's daughter? His heart squeezed again.

He barely paid attention to the barking dog until she was suddenly licking at his supposed daughter's face. He skated towards them both, reaching out and opening his mouth to speak. Though, just as he grabbed his child's hand, everything around him disappeared into a cloud of smoke.

He shot up in bed, his eyes immediately full of tears. His hand impulsively moved up, shaking fingers wrapping tightly around the crucifix on his necklace as he tried to calm his heavy breathing.

He glanced around, impulsively searching around the bedroom for Shane's presence. When he found none, he let out a small curse in Russian. He loosened his grip over his necklace only after his breathing returned to normal.

Of course. Shane wasn't here. He wouldn't get to see him for another week.

The dream was so vivid. He could imagine all of it happening. Being married to Shane and having a family with him. He wanted it so badly, it made his chest ache.

But they couldn't. Not now. Not while they were hiding their relationship from the world. He hated it so much. He wanted nothing more than to stop hiding and tell everyone how much he loved his boyfriend.

He wiped his wet eyes with the back of his right hand before reaching over to grab his cell phone from the nightstand. He brought up Shane's number and sent an impulsive text.

He glanced at the time on his phone, knowing full well that if he sent his boyfriend a text, there was a low chance that Shane would reply at 1:46 am. Shane was most likely asleep.

[To: Jane] I love you so much. I miss you. Waiting whole week to see you again feels like torture.

[bostonlilyxo]

Anonymous said: Anya senses that something is wrong and whenever her human looks like he's about to cry, she will do everything she can to cheer him up again. She doesn't like seeing him upset. In her little mind that can only be solved with playing! So, she runs up the stairs, barks at him, waits for his attention, runs into the bedroom and keeps barking as she jumps onto the bed. She grabs one of Hollander's designer pillows - he is not gonna like that - and throws her head around, shaking it violently. Her barks are muffled now, but she keeps trying. If he doesn't follow her she will run down the stairs with the pillow in tow. If he tries to grab it she will be speed and outrun him! Around the sofa, zooms back to the kitchen, around his legs in circles, then back to shaking the pillow again. Does that help?

Ilya was trying his best not to spiral. He was trying his his damndest. Though, whenever Shane would leave him for roadtrips, it felt ineveitable at this point.

After saying goodbye to his boyfriend, he fought back tears and the ache in his chest as he made his way back up to his bedroom. Maybe if he just slept it off for a few hours, he'd feel better again? It was worth a shot.

Apparently, Anya had other plans.

A sudden burst of movement jolted him upright. She was bouncing on the bed with one of Shane’s expensive pillows clamped in her mouth. Ilya’s eyes went wide. "Anya! No!" he exclaimed in English.

Shane actually loved that pillow. He would be upset if it ended up being destroyed.

What on earth had gotten into his favorite girl?

He reached out to try and snatch it back from her, but the dog had darted out of his reach and rushed downstairs. With a groan, he got up and followed after her.

Despite having to chase her down, her happy earnestness was infectious. He wanted to be mad at her, but he just couldn't find it in himself to reach that emotion. Instead, a small laugh escaped him. "Anya!"

After a fruitless chase, he finally pointed towards the floor. "Anya," he said firmly. "Фу."

With a whine of protest from Anya, Ilya watched her drop the pillow from her mouth to the floor. He went over to pick it up before placing it on a countertop that was safely out of reach.

He sighed and went to the couch. There was no use going back to bed now. He had a feeling his girl would most likely do a repeat offense. "Ко мне," he added, patting the spot beside him.

He was sure Shane would lecture him later if he saw her on the couch, but it was a problem for future Ilya. Right now, he wanted her company.

Immediately, Anya rushed over and hopped onto the couch. She made her way over to Ilya's lap and plopped across his lap with a triumphant bark.

A fond smile crossed the Ottawa captain's lips. He stroked her gently between the ears. "Хорошая девочка."

As heavy as his mood had been, he was genuinely grateful for the distraction she’d given him.

“Thank you,” he murmured into her fur.

[bostonlilyxo]

@puckbrush said: Luca is looking at his captain like he's currently uncovering the mysteries of the universe and eternal wisdom. He's pursing his lips, waiting for Rozanov's attention before he speaks. "Captain, I have a question." Yes, he's aware he sounds like a smart-assing student asking their favorite teacher something annoying but he's been wondering about this for a while. They played Montreal tonight and even though they didn't get used as a mop to wipe the floor, they lost anyway. It's to be expected and the team is less disappointed than he thought they would be but there is something else on his mind. "You care quite a lot about Shane Hollander, don't you?" Yes, his voice delivers something between the lines and suddenly the room seems to fall silent and Luca feels like he can feel everyone's eyes at the back of his neck. Suddenly, he's nervous. Why is he so nervous, oh my god did he ask something bad? "I- uh- uhhh- I just mean in like.. you eh-"

Ilya was frustrated by their loss to Montreal. Of course, he was. Just because he was engaged to their captain didn't mean that didn't take their every game seriously.

Though, his loss usually translated into heated sex with Hollander in his house. Every chance he got to spend with partner was still precious even if Ilya hated losing games against that rival team.

After giving his customary speech about how they'd win their next game, he moved to dismissed his team. Though, when Haas suddenly brought up Shane's name, it took everything in him not to go stiff.

He schooled his expression into something resembling neutral. He raised an eyebrow at the rookie. "We are friends, and we opened a charity together," he said as if was obvious. "Of course, I care about him."

It was the practiced answer; one he was growing to hate. With each passing day, the lies ate away at him more and more. He wanted to be honest with his team, but he promised Shane they would still stay a secret.

He couldn't help but be curious at what brought up the question. "...why do you ask?"

[bostonlilyxo]

"HAH! GOTCHA!" Hayden hollered, throwing his arms in the air as Luigi crossed the finish line after the last lap. He had beaten Ilya again and even though Hayden had to admit that he was impressed at how the russian menace never grew tired of challenging him, he never went easy on him either. He also had to admit that he noticed how Rozanov had steadily climbed the ranks from last place to sixth, to fourth, to second. He was getting better at this and it genuinely frightened him. Right now though, nothing could outshine Haydens shit eating grin. Rozanov was much less of a sore loser than he extected either. He fought like a beast, as if he was defending his honor - or maybe Shanes? Hayden was pretty sure that Rozanov didn't need to impress Shane anymore. As much as it pained him to admit, Hayden might not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he has eyes and he can see how Shane looks at this man like he hung the moon in the sky. Well, well, well. If anyone told him a couple months ago, that he would be lounging on Shane Hollanders sofa, playing Mario Cart against Ilya fucking Rozanov, while said Hollander was rummaging through the kitchen like some mom preparing snacks, his past self wouldn't believe it. But here they are. "Heh, what do you say, Rasputin~ Care for another ass beating?" - "Be nice, Hayd-" - Shane called from the kitchen and Hayden just rolled his eyes. "I'm always nice, Hollander, even when I'm kicking your fiances ass!" - "Swear jar, Hayd." Shane again and Hayden groaned, eyes never leaving Rozanov.

Ilya’s eyes narrowed, laser‑focused on the screen as he tried to beat Hayden. His fingers were rigid on the joysticks, knuckles tight, his character skidding around the final corner with everything he had.

And of course--of fucking course--Hayden crossed the finish line a split second before him.

“Second Place” flashed across the screen, and Ilya glared at it like he could will it to change.

He hated losing. Hated it even more when the person beating him was Hayden Pike. Still… he’d never admit it out loud, but playing against the Montreal forward was more fun than he expected. The asshole was good.

At the taunting insult, Ilya's head snapped towards him before he let out a loud, offended huff. "'Rasputin'?" he echoed incredulously.

He thought the historical figure for a moment before a smirk curled over his lips. "Does this mean you're thinking of my cock?" he couldn't help but taunt. "You compare me to the one man who has legend about his dick size."

He could only imagine how Shane would react when he overheard this.

@captainswinged