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Shane swallowed hard, tears still slipping down his face, but he managed another breath. Then another. Each one shaky. Each one fragile. But they were coming. Ilya kept his hand steady against his back, the other still lightly holding his forearm. “You’re okay,” he repeated quietly. “I’m right here.” Shane’s voice came out broken and small. “I'm sorry. I couldn’t- I tried- I needed-” His words dissolved into another shaky inhale, frustration and shame mixing with the remnants of panic. Ilya didn’t press him to explain. He knew Shane’s mind was still tangled in whatever storm had triggered this. Right now, breathing mattered more than understanding. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said softly. “Just breathe.” --- The pressure gets to Shane and he has an anxiety attack mid-game.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,187
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79927841
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“Ilya,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I don’t feel right.” The hand doesn’t pull away. Instead, it slides lower. Shane stiffens as fingers trace down his spine, lingering too long, dipping beneath the hem of his shirt. Skin-on-skin contact sends a jolt through him, not pleasure, not comfort, but something sharp and wrong. His breath catches. Then the hand grips him. Firmly. Possessive. Fingers digging into his ass through his jeans. Shane jerks slightly, confusion slicing through the fog. His heart stutters, a hard, uneven beat that makes his chest ache. That’s… not- *** Someone puts something in Shane’s drink. Ilya is not happy.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,944
- Chapters:
- 3/3
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78669441
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“Ilya,” Shane says, slurring just slightly, eyes glassy and bright. “Did you know-“ he giggles, actually giggles, shoulders shaking, “-that you are very handsome?” “Yes, I am aware,” Ilya grins widely as he steadies Shane by the waist, fingers firm and familiar at his side. Shane turns suddenly, interrupting a conversation between a handful of players and executives who absolutely did not ask to be included. “Hello. This is my husband,” he announces proudly, like it’s breaking news. “He’s Russian. And annoying. And very in love with me.” *** Shane Hollander wins ‘Player of the Year’ and celebrates with his husband, Ilya Rozanov. Shane drinks a little too much, but thankfully, Ilya is glued to his side.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,577
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77620446
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“You fainted,” Ilya says. “You barely eat. And now you are-“ He gestures vaguely at the mirror, at Shane, at everything. “Explain.” Shane swallows. His heart is pounding again, but this time it’s not dizziness, it’s fear. Real, gut-deep fear. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he says. “I just… I needed to get better.” Ilya’s brow furrows. “You are the best center in the league.” Shane laughs weakly. “Yeah. On the ice.” *** Shane struggles with the hate he’s receiving online. He limits his eating, he overworks, trying to prove to the world, and himself, that he deserves Ilya.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,573
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77581566
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Shane lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. His shoulders sag. “I just-“ He stops, words tangling. “It’s the final. So much is on the line. And- and it’s Montreal…” Ilya’s thumbs brush slow circles over Shane’s pulse points. “You don’t play for them.” “I know. I know.” Shane presses his lips together. “But I want to prove-“ Ilya leans in a fraction, voice firmer now. “You don’t have to prove anything to them. You gave them everything, and they didn’t give you shit back.” --- Shane and Ilya are both playing for Ottawa, open and married. They make it to the Stanley cup final, and Shane is anxious about meeting their opponent, his previous team, Montreal.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,566
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76739966
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Then the sound comes. It isn’t like the other creaks. It’s sharper. Deeper. Wrong. Shane feels it before he understands it, a sudden vibration beneath his feet, a jolt straight through his bones. He looks up, mouth already forming Ilya’s name. The ice fractures under Ilya in a split second. There’s a crack like a gunshot, the surface splintering outward, and then Ilya is gone. Swallowed by black water that surges violently up through the hole. “Ilya!” Shane’s skates scrape uselessly as he tries to stop, heart slamming so hard it knocks the air from his lungs. He drops to his knees a few meters back, terrified to get closer, terrified not to. Steam curls up from the water like breath in the freezing air. Time breaks. One second. Two. Three. Nothing. - Shane and Ilya enjoy their Christmas break at Shane's cottage, until Ilya falls through the ice as they skate on the lake.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,168
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76402316
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Ilya stands in the hallway of Shane’s parents’ house with his boots still on, shoulders slightly hunched, fingers worrying the sleeve of his sweater. He’s been here before, plenty of times, but tonight feels different. Tonight means something. Christmas lights glow along the banister, warm gold reflected in the windowpanes, and somewhere deeper in the house there’s the low murmur of voices and the clink of dishes. He leans toward Shane and whispers, for the third time since they parked the car. “Are you sure it’s okay? Like, really okay?” Shane smiles at him, soft and fond, the way he does when he understands exactly what’s going on in Ilya’s head. He cups Ilya’s elbow, thumb brushing reassurance into skin. “Yes,” he says gently. “They want you here. I want you here.” Ilya nods, even though his chest still feels too full, like something might spill over if he breathes wrong. Christmas with a family. A real one. Not a hotel, not a team dinner, not a quiet night pretending it doesn’t matter. This matters so much it scares him. - Ilya's first Christmas with the Hollanders.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,602
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76283261
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Shane’s breath stutters, then steadies. His hands curl into the fabric of Ilya’s sweater, holding him close. When Ilya’s mouth lingers a little longer in one spot, Shane hums, soft and content. “You’re going to leave marks,” Shane says quietly, not stopping him. “Yes,” Ilya replies just as softly. There’s no teasing in his voice now, only certainty. “Is about time.” — Ilya admires Shane in the safety of Shane’s cottage.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,894
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75998636
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“I said I’m fine.” “You don’t sound fine.” “Why does it matter how I sound?” Ilya spins back around, frustration spilling over. “Why is there always something? Tone, face, body language. Maybe I’m just fucking tired, Shane. Maybe I don’t have the energy to be ‘okay’ correctly.” Shane swallows. “I’m not asking you to be okay.” “It feels like it,” Ilya scoffs. “It feels like if I don’t say the right words, if I don’t say them the right way, you’ll keep pushing until you get something out of me.” — Ilya’s mother’s birthday sends Ilya down a rough episode, in which Shane tries understanding him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,027
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75839256
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“Shane- Hey. Hey.” His voice cracks. A tremor runs through his hands as he turns Shane carefully onto his side, supporting his head so it doesn’t flop. The warmth of Shane’s skin is still there, but it feels wrong now, like a warning instead of an invitation. Fuck. What the hell just happened? He tries to steady himself, but his hands are trembling so badly that they fumble over Shane’s body, checking for any sign that he’s okay. A pulse. Anything. His head is racing, his chest tight with panic. When he finds the pulse, fast, irregular, but there, Ilya exhales shakily. But it doesn’t help the wave of dread crashing over him. - Shane passes out during sex, and it freaks Ilya out.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,019
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75666621