1 – 8 of 8 Works in Conversations

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  1. forgive me my muzzle by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • G
    • ✓

    2026-05-28

    "I think,” Scott decides on, “I’ve at least proven I’ve got some surprises up my sleeve.”

    A startled laugh bursts from Rozanov’s chest. “Yes. Yes, you have done that. I did not think you had it in you.” Before Scott can figure out if he should be insulted, Rozanov continues around his next puff of his cigarette, “Did not think anyone did. Good for you.”

    “Thanks.”

    Rozanov nods before frowning, like he still hasn’t said what he wants to say, but Scott’s content. What else is there for him to say?

    "I..."

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    AO3:
    #85703516
  2. “Sometimes, when people are very sick and they don’t get the medicine they need, they can feel very sad, and the sickness tricks them. It makes them think they’ll never feel better. They end their own lives so that the sadness will stop. That’s what happened to your grandmother.” Sonya furrowed her brow and took a bite of her yogurt. “I don’t understand.” “I didn’t understand either, solnyshko. I wish I knew the answer. The sickness is very confusing, sometimes.” “Are you or daddy sick?” Ilya has a difficult conversation with his five-year-old daughter.

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    AO3:
    #80909111
  3. “You are Scott Hunter’s boy, yes?” Hockey Guy asked, and fuck, he was Russian. Not that Kip had anything against Russians, of course, but the chances were that any given Russian in the NHL was not going to be all that friendly to gay people. The only Russian NHL player Kip was at all familiar with was that Rozanov guy from Boston, and based on the “fighter, womanizer, party boy” stories he’d heard about the guy, he was really hoping that he was not the man standing next to him.

    “Yeah. That’s me.” Kip confirmed, standing straighter and flashing a tight smile.

    Hockey Guy grinned and offered his hand. “Ilya Rozanov. Nice to meet you.”

    God fucking damn it.

    Or: During the MLH award ceremony, Kip finds himself having a very interesting conversation with Ilya Rozanov.

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    AO3:
    #77990796
  4. “How fast were you driving?” Shane asked. Ilya groaned, rolling his eyes. “A normal speed.” “You can’t have been driving a normal speed. I was driving at a normal speed, and you beat me here.” “Yes, second time tonight I beat you.” Shane glared at him, but went and opened his front door anyway. As soon as it clicked shut, Ilya was pressing him up against the wall, his mouth on Shane’s neck. ~~ or: they got through the immediate storm of ilya being outed. now shane must learn to be a little bit braver, and ilya must learn to talk a little more

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    AO3:
    #77623266
  5. Somehow, Yuna ends up washing dishes side-by-side with Ilya Rozanov. Shane had resisted her help—telling her to sit back down—it was his cottage, he'd wash the dishes, but Yuna needed her hands to be busy. Needed to be alone, really. But that last piece didn't work out. Rozanov—Ilya. He asked them to call him Ilya— slipped into the kitchen easily, and took up the task of drying and putting the dishes away without a word. ——— Yuna talks to Ilya after their dinner at the cottage. Set after episode 6.

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    AO3:
    #77183161
  6. Hayden keeps trying to call, but with only three days until Ilya leaves the cottage, Shane doesn't feel like answering. He's jealous, Yuna and David are understanding, and Ilya finds a way to bag out Hayden Pike and Scott Hunter, be not so secretly possessive about his boyfriend, and declare his intentions to be future father of the year all in the space of two minutes.

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    AO3:
    #77127616
  7. tell me by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • T
    • ?
    • ✓

    2025-12-30

    Ilya has been thinking. Since Christmas has rolled around and no work on the ice has been done, Ilya and Shane have retired to the cottage, and Ilya has been thinking. Maybe it’s time to voice those thoughts. SET POST ‘THE LONG GAME’ The cottage houses both Shane and Ilya, and has been since the NHL sent their players home for the winter. Shane, who sits on the left side of the couch, is engrossed in his phone, meandering over Instagram. Ilya sits across from him, on the right, sprawled over the cushions with his eyes closed, pondering his thoughts. Shane sends Ilya a look or two from the side, watching over as Ilya’s eyes work under his lids, pouring over whatever it is he’s been thinking of the past week. Seems it has come to the surface, now. He shifts from his splay and sits up properly, opening his eyes. Shane looks away. Ilya stretches his arm out over the back of the couch, alike to a panther. He awkwardly taps his fingertips against the material, pursing his lips in thought. Shane, naturally, notices. Ilya’s knee is bouncing. The rhythm is disrupting. “What are you thinking about?” “Nothing,” Ilya is quick to defend. Shane tilts his head, defying Ilya’s answer. “Ilya.” “Nothing important,” he insists. “Just . . .” He inhales to blow up his cheeks then exhales to pop like a balloon. “You’re very . . .Neurotic, sometimes.” “Gee, thanks,” Shane scrubs his nails over the nape of his hair, now short, stubbly like he likes it. “No, is good.” Ilya amends, sitting up and leaning closer. “Is good to have attention to detail. Sometimes you pay too much attention.” Shane chews on the inside of his cheek, feeling the line of a scar marred across it with his tongue. “Where is this going?” “You feel a lot.” Ilya adds, tugging at one of his curls, trying to convey his point. “Yes, Ilya. I’m not a robot.” Ilya hums low in his throat, looking momentarily very confused and frustrated with where the conversation has gone. He reels Shane back in: “remember when you told me to get therapy?” “Christ,” Shane expels in unprepared shock, “how could I forget?” It’s how casually Ilya says it that catches him off guard. “I think you could benefit.” Shane nods. “I don’t disagree,” he shrugs, wanting to melt into the pillows. Sadly, long ago, they promised to be honest to one another. It is both a blessing and a curse. “I’ve been seeing Ottawa’s counsellor every once in a while.” “‘Once in a while’.” Ilya parrots, lifting his bouncing knee from the floor to tuck it beneath himself, crossing his legs. “I, uh . . .” He huffs, computing his next words. “Spit it out,” Shane urges softly, straightening his leg and taking his foot at a point to poke Ilya’s thigh. “You know how my mother had depression. I got depression,” Ilya articulates, inching closer to Shane on the couch, shimmying over. “Yes?” Shane says, gaze tender, shifting to meet Ilya in the middle. His hand finds itself snaking around Ilya’s thigh and gripping him close. Ilya’s arm comes around Shane’s shoulders around the backrest. “Your father . . .He has autism?” “You think . . .I have autism?” Shane’s eyebrows knit. “Wouldn’t be so far fetched.” Ilya shrugs. Shane is trying to be somewhat angry with this conclusion. Thinking, how dare Ilya diagnose him like this? Yet, all he can think is how sickeningly sweet being so intimately known by another for them to recognise something monumental like this is. His eyebrows stay knitted but he’s almost smiling. “When did you start thinking that?” “It wasn’t . . .How you say? Conscious? I just started noticing.” Ilya tries to explain, dropping his arm to rest across Shane’s waist, drawing patterns with his fingernail politely tracing into Shane’s side. “Things I didn’t pay attention to before. Your routines. Bad social skills.” Shane looks offended for a moment, before reality sets in and he wonders if Ilya really is so far off. “My social skills aren’t bad.” “Not . . .Bad. Fuck. I’m bad at this.” “No, no . . .” Shane comforts, trailing off. He can’t seem to get enough of the conversation. It’s almost amusing. “Keep going.” “Internet said about social cues. Sometimes you don’t get conversation. Like, jokes don’t land.” Ilya explains, swallowing anxiously, chuckling slightly for it to wear off. Shane nods at him. “And this might not mean anything, but you like being clean . . .The cottage is always clean. Your car; clean. Bedroom; clean. You shower every day. Wash your face morning and night.” “Yeah,” Shane agrees, “comforts me.” “Another thing,” Ilya is reminded by Shane’s word choice, “they said comfort. Like, your weird rituals. The way you make your breakfast then eat it. Your routines. Game day is different but same, you know? Always the same.” Shane has begun smiling, now. “My parents have always said the same thing—I’ve had the same routines since I was maybe a teenager.”

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    AO3:
    #76692166
  8. Set the night after the Hollander parents find out the truth about Ilya and Shane. Yuna Hollander talks to Ilya about Shane's accident, and what she saw on the ice that night.

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    AO3:
    #76138601