561 – 580 of 583 Works in Angst

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  1. He thinks it cannot be healthy to be pacing the streets of Boston, an empty, hollow ache ricocheting up his spine. It does not make sense that he feels as though he is a bird caught in the mouth of a dog, the world appearing through tightly clenched, slobbering teeth. He is no fragile-boned creature, no docile lamb for any slaughter; he is the wolf on the prowl, the shadow that hunts from above. He is fear that haunts the world; he does not have it.

    OR: Ilya wants: home, Shane, freedom—it does not matter. It is all selfish in the end. He is sure he does not deserve it.

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    Files:
    1
    AO3:
    #75592531
  2. Instead of texting Ilya at the Sochi Olympics, Alexei finds his brother at the short-form figure skating...with Shane Hollander. A fight breaks out, leaving Shane injured and Ilya mortified and unsure what to do in a country where he can't do anything to help Shane.

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    AO3:
    #75454416
  3. ”I need my laptop. For the transfer.” He finally says. ”It’s in the top drawer next to the fridge. I don’t think I can walk right now.” The second the man has his back turned, Shane is turning around and fumbling with the key in the patio door and finally, it turns. He’s able to push the door open and he doesn’t look back as he starts running as fast as he can while being injured. or, Shane is attacked while home alone

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    AO3:
    #75525151
  4. He liked it when Rozanov held him down, more than he would ever admit, liked those big hands around his waist, around his wrists, pressing on his back so his chest would lie flat on the bed and his back would arch to give Rozanov the perfect angle to take him apart. He liked it when Rozanov held him tightly and kissed him gently, he liked it when Rozanov looked at him like he was the only thing in the world. Omegaverse Ilya and Shane try something new in bed, with unexpected consequences.

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    AO3:
    #75567221
  5. Shane thinks of universes in which the plane never lands. Or, an alternative continuation of the post plane scene. In which Ilya is nowhere to be found, and Shane is mourning the love that was kept silent,

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    AO3:
    #75425831
  6. fuck the news by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • ?
    • ✓

    2025-12-08

    "What are we going to do?" Shane whispered.

    "I will tell them it was me." Rozanov said, interrupting them both.

    "You would do that for Shane?" David asked.

    "Is only way."

    "Ilya, don't be stupid."

    "Tell me other way then, Hollander."

    Shane's eyes went glassy again. "But - you won't be able to go home. Russia. It won't be safe for you-"

    Hayden exchanged a look with J.J. This whole situation was so fucked.

    (someone working at the hotel leaks a picture of shane entering ilya's penthouse)

    Language:
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    Files:
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    AO3:
    #75235571
  7. Shane's heart shatters when he finds a ring at Ilya's, the kind you propose with. A woman's ring. With Svetlana's name on it.

    Language:
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    Chapters:
    1/1
    Files:
    1
    AO3:
    #75400901
  8. Shane shuts down. Ilya handles it about as well as you’d expect.

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    Files:
    1
    AO3:
    #75352056
  9. “You want a sandwich? I make really good tuna melts.” “I haven’t had one in ages,” Shane admits and then grimaces. “I’m on this diet actually, it’s macro-biotic, so… you know.” Rozanov stares at him, frowns. “Hollander, what? Macro… What are these words?” Shane laughs. “It’s for performance.” “‘It’s for performance,’” Rozanov singsongs back. “No, too boring. Shane Hollander, I will not accept you can be defeated by bread.”

    Language:
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    AO3:
    #75113791
  10. Jane: We didn't even kiss. The words stare back at him. They fucking taunt him, the same way Ilya does with that wink of his, with his smirk and his deep voice. Abruptly, Shane feels pissed off and a little like he’s grasping for something that’s slipping away. He feels the way he did in that bathroom, the first time he had Ilya’s attention for months and didn’t want to let Ilya escape without stealing more of it. The elevator door opens. Shane does not get off. Instead, he presses the button for Penthouse 1 and hits send on We didn’t even kiss. He watches the floor numbers increase as the elevator carries him back to Ilya. Shane has no idea what he’s going to say to the asshole but he knows he has so many words that are about to burst out of his mouth. Fuck you being the first two. OR Shane goes back for that kiss.

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    AO3:
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  11. lucky bastard by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • M
    • ✓

    2025-11-30

    “I like it,” he says weakly. “I like it, I like you holding me like this.”

    “Like what?”

    “Like you own me.”
    ---
    or; They're falling in love. They can't have it, even if they can have each other, just for a little while.

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    AO3:
    #74995891
  12. Five times when Ilya is hurt on the ice and Shane can’t go to him, and one time he can.

    ---

    For a Fullfill a Crave-ing prompt.

    Language:
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    AO3:
    #74849766
  13. slipfast by

    Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
    • E
    • ✓

    2025-11-26

    "You're supposed to smoke over there." Someone said from behind Ilya. Ilya almost dropped his cigarette. His English was shitty, but he had studied that sentence enough times over the years to understand it immediately. He didn't even think about his words much anymore, but it was impossible to avoid them. He turned instinctively, and was face to face with Shane fucking Hollander. Out of almost seven billion people, of course Ilya's soulmate had to be his fated rival. It was almost poetic. Still, Ilya had enough sense to realize just how bad this was. or, Shane says Ilya's soulmate words. Ilya vows to never speak a word to him to keep him from finding out. They fall in love anyway.

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    3 versions
    AO3:
    #73643456
  14. PopBase ☑ @PopBase People Magazine has named Ilya Rozanov the Sexiest Man Alive of 2025. (2.1k replies 21k retweets 138k likes) [Photo: Ilya on the cover of People Magazine’s November 2025 issue. He’s wearing an Ottawa Centaurs t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and holding his 6-year-old rescue dog Anya.]

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    1
    AO3:
    #74325036
  15. Shane Hollander wins the Stanley Cup and the come down is harrowing. He hasn't had sex in 4 months and the only person he wants to have sex with who won't destroy his life is avoiding him and who cares? He'll just find someone else to fill in.

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    AO3:
    #73867096
  16. Shane is at a sports bar in Tampa when people at his table start talking shit about Ilya. It becomes impossible to keep his mouth shut. Or, an alternative retelling of how Hayden finds out. Shane never really got the point of going out after a game, and he certainly didn’t understand going out with players from the opposing team. Still, he somehow found himself at some sports bar in Tampa, seated around a table with Hayden, J.J., and what felt like half of Tampa Thunder. It was actually just three of them, one of whom J.J. knew from junior hockey. Or something. “—and I swear we just got her to sleep through the night.” Brandon Wheeler, one of the Tampa players, rubbed a hand over his face. “And then suddenly she just started waking up again at 5 A.M.” Hayden winced. “That time’s really rough. Have you tried a white noise machine?” “Darla’s sister keeps suggesting it, so I guess we should.” Shane tried hard to keep a polite expression on his face. Sitting in a sports bar in Tampa talking about babies wasn’t really his idea of a good time. His idea of a good time was to go to the hotel and nap. Or FaceTime Ilya, but Ilya was occupied at the moment. Shane’s eyes flicked unbidden to the game on the TV. The Centaurs were playing at home against the Admirals and, by some miracle, they had yet to concede a goal. They hadn’t scored one either, but they weren’t losing. Ilya popped up in frame, mouthing off to Scott Hunter who rolled his eyes at him, and by now Shane was familiar enough with this dynamic to bite back a laugh. He watched his boyfriend on the screen, surrounded by people who had no idea. He wasn’t the only one watching the game, though, and one of the other Tampa players scoffed loudly. Andy Something-or-other. “Rozanov is such a fucking scumbag,” he spat, turning away from the game again. “I hate playing against that guy, he pisses me off.” J.J. snorted into his beer. “Is there anyone Rozanov doesn’t piss off?” Feeling his shoulders tense, Shane forced himself to reach out for his ginger ale and take a slow sip. It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself roped into similar conversations, but it was his absolute least favorite situation to be in. He hated hearing people who knew nothing about Ilya tear him to pieces. It was one thing when people said bad things about Shane, but there was something so fucked up about listening to people dig into the person he loved most in the world. “Oh, yeah, I guess you’d know better than anyone,” Brandon said, gesturing at Shane with a laugh. “That guy’s been in your face being annoying for years. Don’t know how you haven’t punched the daylights out of him.” Shane just shrugged, not finding it in him to agree with it. A few years ago, he’d have played along a little, just half-hearted insults and laughs, but he was fed up with all of it. “Shane’s a saint,” Hayden said, clapping him on the shoulder. “He wouldn’t punch the worst person you could think of, probably.” Shane rather wanted to punch Andy, actually. There was something about his face. Of course, Ilya Rozanov had impeccable timing and chose that moment to score. Shane sucked in a breath because it was a fucking cool one too, and he watched as Ilya pumped his arms over his head, skated over and crowed in Scott’s face before being engulfed by his team. They zoomed in his beaming face and Shane had to press his lips together to not smile along with him. Everyone else around the table groaned and the goal with the ensuing celebration added fuel to the fire. “I hear he’s honestly fucking disgusting,” Andy said. “Has like three women going and none of them know they’re the sidepiece.” Shane should honestly just laugh. Because it was so obviously stupid and made up shit. But he didn’t want to laugh. He actually kind of wanted to cry because it was so unfair. If they were out, they wouldn’t be saying this. If they were out, he could defend Ilya freely. In the back of his head, he knew they would just say something else. Would say he was cheating on Shane, probably. And still, the anger was building inside him. Brandon nodded at his teammate. “It’s people like him that give the rest of us a bad reputation. Everyone assuming we all cheat on our wives, like we’re all complete animals.” “Yeah, fuck, it’s so annoying,” Hayden said. “I get that shit all the time.” The third Tampa player finally chimed in as Shane was quietly planning his escape. “Probably has a bunch of kids everywhere. They’ll be their own hockey team in like 20 years.” Everyone else laughed at that. Obnoxiously loudly, like it was the funniest thing any of them had ever heard. Something snapped in him, something he’d been holding together with the force of his will and the clench of his teeth. Maybe it was the implication that Ilya would be a shitty dad that finally broke every single resolve. “He’s actually a good guy,” Shane said quietly, but the whole table fell silent for a moment. J.J. looked at him with his eyebrows raised, and the Tampa players still had signs of laughter in their expressions. “You’ve been enemies for like a decade,” Brandon said. “What do you mean, good guy?” “Rivals,” Shane corrected, his hands twisting in his lap. “And yeah, almost a decade. So I know him better than you, then, don’t I? And Rozanov isn’t just whatever you see on the ice or hear from the rumour mill.” “Alright, relax?” Brandon laughed, dismissive.

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    Chapters:
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    Files:
    2 versions
    AO3:
    #73871931
  17. The doorbell rings just as Shane is finishing brushing his teeth – the first thing they rose to do, because he wants to kiss Ilya good morning – and he and Ilya exchange a confused look in the bathroom mirror. It's barely dawn, and Ilya's curls are adorably tousled from sleep as he scratches his ribs lazily, toothbrush dangling from the corner of his mouth. 

    Shane hesitates, then rinses his toothpaste out and runs a hand through his hair. "Fuck, it's probably anti-doping."

    No one else would be here at this hour – unless it's an emergency.

    Language:
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    1/1
    Files:
    2 versions
    AO3:
    #73571001
  18. Shane once told himself it was purely strategic, that Ilya was his greatest adversary on the ice and that his obsession was borne of his killer competitive instinct. Now he knew better. Shane could be battling for the Stanley Cup and in that room full of people he would look for Ilya. Always and against his better judgement. Shane wandered into the communal showers and peeled off the undershirt that stuck to his body like a sweaty second skin. His teammates milled around him with the pleasant hum of a victory in the air. Even naked under the stream of the shower heads, they swatted at each other and horsed around. Shane stuck to his corner and ignored the merrymaking. He had a reputation for being a bit of a wet blanket but he could not begrudge his team the celebrating this time. He of all people knew there were few better feelings than trouncing Boston. Every game against Rozanov went something like this. The rink was charged with electricity before they even set foot on the ice. By the time they were facing off the feeling was overwhelming. Small forms of release would come in body checks and stolen pucks, in thrusting each other against the boards, in assists and goals. At some point around the second period they would start to lose sight of anyone but each other. Shane once told himself it was purely strategic, that Ilya was his greatest adversary on the ice and that his obsession was borne of his killer competitive instinct. Now he knew better. Shane was looking for Ilya because not a single person in the arena of screaming fans mattered. Shane could be battling for the Stanley Cup and in that room full of people he would look for Ilya. Always and against his better judgement. This game had became a two person test of wills, a stubborn and begrudging negotiation of who would come out on top that night. They hated to lose about as much as they loved to fuck each other. And that energy would inevitably follow them into locker room as they quickly moved through the post game rituals. Shane was almost shocked his teammates could not feel it, that he and Ilya orbited each other. The press conferences were torture. It was one of the rare times he and Ilya got to exist together in public without skates on. But there were cameras everywhere and questions designed to instigate barbs that would end up in headlines or on Twitter. “Shane, you have played against Rozanov for five seasons. Talk to us about that. What does it take to beat someone with his agility and strength?” Or “Ilya, Hollander’s backhand conversion at the end of the second period looked an awful lot like one of your signature moves. What do you have to say to that?” Ilya loved when the press leaned into their rivalry. He would give taciturn one word answers or wink to the camera with his signature grin. He rarely if ever made eye contact with Shane. Their feet would tap against each other occasionally, but beyond that they were focused on the mics and cameras in their faces, as if they were two unruly specimens behind a wall of glass. Finally they were back with their teammates and at the part of the night where they made their inevitable excuses about why they could not go out that night to celebrate their victory or bemoan their loss. A festering injury. A previous bad night of sleep. A far off girl who wanted to FaceTime. And each time their teammates would accept it with teases and exasperated shrugs. Now they were off to the race. Sprinting to Ilya’s penthouse or Shane’s empty apartment, where every minute to midnight felt like running through water or dancing on a knife’s edge, equal parts exhausting and excruciating. This night it was Shane who burst into Ilya’s apartment and into his arms. They were on each other as the door shut, wrestling for the upper hand as if this was the real conclusion to their on ice spars, a final wrestle that had them at each others throats and hip to hip. Ilya practically consumed Shane’s mouth. His tongue delved into him like he had hadn’t had a drink of water for days. “Shh,” Ilya mumbled thickly as Shane whined into his mouth. “I know. I will not let you out of my sight.” They had until noon of next day, when Shane’s team would make their way to the airport and back to Montreal. Getting a proper morning was a real treat for Shane and Ilya, and one they never squandered. Ilya spent the first two hours taking Shane apart in every way possible. First with his hands as he gripped their shafts tightly against one another. Next on his knees with Shane’s cock in his mouth. Then with his length buried into Shane and his balls slapping wildly as he piled into him from behind. And then with Shane riding Ilya as Ilya held his impossible large hands to his hips in the way that Shane loved, that made him feel somehow feminine and so obviously a man, the sharply sculpted lines of his abdominals moving as he rode Ilya’s cock. It was usually here, where Ilya had a perfect view of Shane’s wanton and blown out eyes, that he couldn’t hold back his commentary, often in Russian, a language that Shane had slowly begun to understand. In Russian, “you are so beautiful. Taking me like you could do it forever, like this is all you want.” Shame let out a diabolically low moan, one that sounded as if he were in pain. He arched his back as he took Ilya even deeper inside him, frantically riding him as his muscular thighs drove himself up and down. This was nirvana. He felt a level of transcendence here that he only came close to feeling when he completed a perfect assist or slotted in the winning goal in a playoff game. Sex and hockey. He was fastidious in both. Athletic, quietly but consistently skilled, aiming to please. Shane came first, pulling Ilya in with him. He loved the feeling of Ilya’s warm release filling him. And the panting the came after. And him leaning forward to let Ilya’s softening cock pull out. And the feeling of his come running down Shane, gushing out in a way that made him stumble to the bathroom with a mumble and a promise to be back over the bark of Ilya’s laughter.

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    Files:
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    AO3:
    #71515466
  19. Ilya stumbles upon Hayden's new profile picture on instagram, one with his wife and four kids, and he tries to not feel anything about it. Set in 2019 and 2025

    Language:
    English
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    Files:
    1
    AO3:
    #67655841
  20. Days like today, Ilya's heart felt heavy. Like there was a dense paperweight or heavy stone pressing down on it. Deep in his gut, it felt like a tender bruise, so far inside that he couldn’t reach it, but its presence was powerful. It was the emotional equivalent of how his body felt after the playoffs, totally beaten down and sore everywhere. It was a deeply permeating sense of despair.

    quick little Ilya depression fic, with comfort from his caring husband.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    1,192
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    1/1
    Files:
    1
    AO3:
    #67114021
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