561 – 580 of 624 Works in Angst with a Happy Ending

  • Angst with a Happy Ending ×
  1. “Why are you calling me, Hollander?” Ilya asks more harshly than he means to. But he’s tired, and impatient, and strung out on a mixture of emotions and longing for the voice on the other end of the phone. “If nothing is wrong, why are you calling?”

    “Will you come?” Shane asks, and Ilya’s heart sinks before he can even say the rest of it. He shouldn’t have asked. He should have just let Shane ramble. “To…to the wedding?”

    The lump in his throat feels insurmountable. But he manages to say, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

    Shane doesn’t acknowledge it. “I invited alllll these people, but the only one I actually care if they come or not is you.” He stops and giggles. “Isn’t that weird?”

    “Yes,” Ilya replies, because it is. You shouldn’t want your years-long situationship at your wedding. He doesn’t want the drunken musings of Shane Hollander to give him hope.

    _________

    Or Shane gets engaged. Ilya gets a phone call. Everything breaks. But sometimes breaking is what finally makes room for the truth.

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    AO3:
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  2. “Hollander,” Ilya urges, voice deceptively level. “Who did this to you?” ---- Shane stumbles back to his apartment, bruised and battered, after a grueling night of patrolling Montreal as Spider-Man. He finds Ilya waiting for him on his bed, shirtless and cocky and woefully uncaring that Shane warned him not to come by tonight. Lying to the world is one thing. Lying to Ilya, the one person he truly trusts, is another.

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  3. “Rozy—shit,” he manages, voice strangled, want bubbling molten and inescapable in his gut, hips trembling with the force of not rudely bucking up into Rozanov’s warm, far too talented mouth. Because I just wanted you to fuck me, he thinks after he’ s finished making Shane unravel with soft, unforgiving motions, as Rozanov—as Ilya—laves his tongue hungrily over the mess dripping down the planes of his abdomen, blinking overwhelmed tears away from the diminuendo of pleasure. But then I became greedy. And now all I want is for you to love me. Or: despite the initial fear, the world doesn't end when Shane Hollander realizes he loves Ilya Rozanov. Now, he just has to convince Ilya of that same truth. An adjusted timeline. A collection of moments. A story about completing someone, despite the odds.

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  4. 'I have seen your charity in her name, Mama should not be forgotten.' The note was short and to the point, no love for Ilya from his brother was scrawled into the familiar letters. But there was love for their mother there, and there was the fact that Andrei had sent it at all. - Ilya's brother sends a parcel containing home video from Ilya's childhood to Canada. Ilya never expected to receive a parcel from his brother after five years of no contact, and He never expected to hear his mother's voice again.

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  5. Maybe if the video ended there, Shane thought, it would be okay. Okayish. Still incriminating. Still a fucking disaster. Still embarrassing, to have his breakup with this beautiful actress filmed and disseminated on Reddit of all fucking places, but not a nail in his coffin, burying him alive. But the video didn’t end there.

    “Can I ask if you’ve ever been with another guy?” she had to ask.

    And he, tears visible in his eyes, had to nod.

    Just once. Just a single nod.

    Why did he have to nod?

    “Have you ever told anyone that before?” He shook his head. “Was it different? With a guy?”

    “Of course.”

    Of course.

    “Was it better?”

    “Yes.”

    +++

    Shane’s conversation with Rose is secretly recorded. Months later, after the All-Star game and Ilya’s confession in Russian, the video gets leaked online. Shane is outed to the world while Ilya is in Russia, and must now finish the 2016-2017 season with the entire world in on his secret.

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    AO3:
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  6. Shane has had a long week and decides to relax by taking a bath and using a bath bomb to relax his muscles. He's so relaxed he takes a nap, not even registering the colour of the bath bomb he used... Inspired by someone, I dont remember who it was so if someone remembers the fic, please tell me. It basically had Shane taking some panadol or something cos he had a headache but he fainted and Ilya found him and thought he tried to overdose The rivalry between Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander was the kind of legend that fueled sports talk radio for decades. It was the stoic, iron-willed Russian Captain against the golden boy of Canadian hockey. On the ice, they were a collision of tectonic plates—heavy hits, sharp words exchanged through mouthguards, and a mutual disdain that seemed etched into their very bones. In reality, the disdain was the most expensive mask in professional sports. For over eight years, they had been a ghost story told in darkened hotel rooms and anonymous apartments. For two years, they had been "forever." They were boyfriends in the shadows, navigating a world of secret back entrances, and the constant, crushing weight of a double life. But tonight, the ice was far away. Ilya had just finished a late flight back to their shared sanctuary in Shane's quiet cottage outside of Ottawa, a home no one else knew Ilya was embraced in. The cottage was hushed, the only sound the hum of the refrigerator and the distant whistle of the wind against the glass. Ilya dropped his gear bag by the door, his shoulders aching from a grueling game against Toronto. He wanted nothing more than to find Shane, bury his face in the crook of his neck, and let the persona of "The Iron Rozanov" melt away. "Shane?" he called out, his voice raspy. No answer. A sliver of light spilled from beneath the master bathroom door. Ilya smiled faintly, rubbing the back of his neck. Shane must have beaten him home and opted for a soak to soothe his own battered ribs. Shane was a fan of rituals—expensive salts, high-end candles, anything to drown out the noise of being Shane Hollander. Ilya kicked off his shoes and padded toward the bathroom. "I’m home, malysh," he murmured, pushing the door open. "I hope you saved some hot water for-" The sentence died in his throat. The smile didn't just fade; it vanished as if it had never existed. The bathroom was thick with steam, smelling of hibiscus and cedarwood. But Ilya’s brain didn't process the scent. It processed the sight. Shane was submerged in the tub, his head tilted back against the porcelain, his eyes closed, his body unnervingly still. And the water-the water was a deep, visceral, terrifying crimson. It looked like a massacre. It looked like a life drained out into a ceramic basin. In an instant, the year was no longer the present. The luxury apartment dissolved. Ilya was twelve years old again, standing in a cramped kitchen in Russia. He was seeing his mother’s pale, limp hand draped across the ground, pills scattered everywhere. He remembered the silence of that day, a silence that felt like a scream you couldn't hear. The trauma, suppressed under layers of muscle, fame, and hockey padding, erupted like a geyser. "Shane!" The sound that ripped from Ilya’s chest wasn't a name; it was a sob, a fractured howl of pure, unadulterated agony. He didn't walk; he lunged. He hit the tiled floor on his knees with a bone-jarring thud, his hands shaking so violently he could barely grip the edge of the tub. "Shane! No, no, no-. Shane, wake up! Look at me!" Ilya’s large, calloused hands plunged into the dark red water, frantic and clumsy. He grabbed Shane’s shoulders, hauling him upward. His mind was a strobe light of horrors. Did he have a knife? Did he take something? Was the pressure of the secret too much? Did I miss the signs? "Please, pozhaluysta, Shane, don't leave me!" Ilya was hyperventilating now, the air coming in jagged, useless gulps. He dragged Shane’s limp upper body out of the water, pinning him against his chest, heedless of his own expensive sweater getting soaked in the red liquid. He was checking for wounds, his fingers searching Shane’s wrists, his neck, his chest, his eyes blurred by a thick veil of tears. "Stay with me, stay with me, I’ve got you-" "Ilya? Wh-what?" Shane’s eyes flew open, wide and disoriented. He sputtered, coughing as water splashed into his face. He felt Ilya’s heart hammering like a trapped bird against his back, felt the crushing, desperate grip of the man’s arms. "Ilya? What’s happening? Are we-is there a fire?" Shane scrambled for purchase, his hands splashing in the red water. Ilya didn't let go. He couldn't. He was rocking back and forth on the floor, holding Shane to his chest with a strength that was bordering on painful. His face was buried in Shane’s wet hair, and he was making a sound Shane had never heard bbefore, a low, broken whimpering. "You’re alive," Ilya choked out, the words barely intelligible. "You’re alive, you’re alive..." Shane finally managed to twist around in Ilya’s arms, his own heart racing from the sudden, violent wake-up. He looked at Ilya and his stomach dropped. The giant, stoic Boston Captain looked like a ghost. His skin was ash-gray, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused, and he was trembling so hard his teeth were literally chattering. "Ilya, look at me. Hey, look at me," Shane said, his voice dropping into a soft, urgent tone. He reached up, cupping Ilya’s face. "I’m okay. I’m right here. I just fell asleep. I was so tired, I-" Shane’s gaze flicked down to the tub, then to the red stains on Ilya’s clothes, then back to the tub. The realization hit him like a cross-check to the throat. The bath bomb. He had bought a new one at the boutique near the arena. "Midnight Rose," the label had said. It was supposed to be luxurious. He hadn't realized it would turn the water the color of an arterial spray. And he knew, God, he knew, about Ilya’s mother. Ilya had only told him once,

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  7. The photo is blurry, timestamped 2:17 AM, but there's no mistaking Ilya Rozanov walking into Shane Hollander's building the night Boston wins in Montreal.

    By morning, it's everywhere.

    --

    They've been so careful. But one fan with a camera phone unravels it all, and suddenly Shane and Ilya have to answer questions about what they are besides rivals. Shane's team wants him to deny everything. Ilya's family demands the same.

    Canon divergence where the secret comes out three years early, and Shane and Ilya have to decide if what they have is real under intense media pressure. Set right before the tuna melt game would have happened.

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  8. "- Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. There was a wreck... pushed my car into the water. I can see the lights from the first responders, but... I don't think they're going to make it. And I can't get out. I tried, Ilya, I swear I tried. I just... I love you. That's all I'm thinking right now. I love you, and I'm so sorry I'm not going to-" There was a choked-off sound. Shane fighting off a sob, Ilya thought, and a matching noise came out of his own throat. "I wanted to marry you. I wanted to marry you more than anything in the whole fucking world."

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  9. Four Minutes by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • T
    • ?
    • ✓

    2025-12-26

    "Ilya had loved him through his worst moments. Ilya had helped him find a therapist when he’d collapsed on the floor of their hotel bathroom after losing a particularly brutal game, scratching at his chest. Ilya had held him, even when Shane yelled at him because there was panic crawling under his skin and he felt as though it might claw its way out. Ilya had told him it was okay; that it didn’t make him a bad player to resent the spotlight sometimes, that it didn’t make him a bad teammate to hate the team when they were too loud and too drunk and too physical, that it didn’t make him a bad person to need space to breathe. Ilya saved him.

    And look what you give him in return. You’re a shitty husband, Shane Hollander.

    You don’t deserve his last name."

     

    -

     

    content warnings: discussion of mental health, depiction of a panic attack, depiction of invasive medical procedure, depiction of violence (generally non-graphic), use of hate speech, depiction of a hate crime

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  10. “Can you believe it? How the hell did he end up bagging her?” Ilya stared, brain not comprehending what his body already seemed to, that Hollander was dating- “Rose fuckin’ Landry! How does the lamest guy in the League-” He knew that smile. He thought it was for him, just for him. But it wasn't. “No,” he whispered. His stomach spasmed. “You good, Roz?” Why would he- How could he- They were holding hands… “Rozanov? What the fuck?” He jumped up from the table and stumbled for the front door, just barely making it through before the first mass of petals came up. He heaved as he ran, trying desperately to get away from the pavement, somewhere he could hide what was happening. Unfortunately, his teammates had followed, because of course they would. He saw a photo of Shane Hollander holding hands with a movie star and promptly threw up. Who wouldn't be curious?

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  11. What if Ilya and Shane never had that fight on Boxing Day? What if he never told Shane how he felt about hiding their relationship? an alternate(sadder) version of how that conversation in chapter 22 could have gone, set in the long game :(

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  12. He needs to move, maybe get Rozanov’s attention before he loses his nerves. And then the room tilts. His vision narrows, red light smearing into pink and white streaks. Shane staggers. The beer slips from his fingers. It shatters, foam splashing his shoes, glass skittering away. His knees give out like someone kicked him, and his hands shoot forward to hold himself upright. His left palm lands in broken glass, though he doesn't feel it. What he notices is the certainty that everyone sees, that they can smell him—something sour and wrong. His scent, despite patches and care, has turned exposed. OR: What if we took the club scene from episode 4 and had Shane collapse from experiencing Omega Rejection Syndrome after seeing Ilya dancing with someone else?

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  13. It’s automatic, taking care of Anya like this. Despite the darkness in his head, and the pit resting in his ribs, Ilya manages to ground himself to her. Shane can be just as grounding, but it’s Anya that allows him to let his mind smooth out and focus on just about nothing. Because if Ilya thinks of Shane, the worst thoughts always return. OR, Ilya’s depression gets the better of him.

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  14. Shane gets called ‘boring.’ Ilya makes it worse by playing along. Shane tries to pretend it's fine. Ilya calls his bluff. Cue in a fight, a stubborn silence, a slammed door that never closes, and a tiny, broken sound that changes everything. “You say you’re boring, fine. You can be boring for the whole damn world. I’ll still kiss you senseless and drag you home after every game. I’ll still make you moan loud enough to shake the walls. None of that changes.”

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  15. Forever, Shane wanted to say. Forever if you ask. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Shane was in too deep, in over his head. Sure, Ilya would entertain the idea of possibly being more for these two weeks, but after that? He would go back home, to Boston, to his incomparably talented team, to his roster of other lovers. Ones with no repercussions. Ones that he could share everything with; ones that he could take out into the world, could love openly, loudly, without shame. --------- or, 5 times Shane and Ilya didn't say everything they wanted to, and 1 time they finally did

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  16. “Ilya hasn’t been very well recently.” Shane swallowed, he hated saying that out loud, “Not for a long time actually.” ~ Ilya's depression is flat, still and cold like water, sometimes he thinks it might drown him. The Hollanders are here to help him float. (Or Ilya has a bad day, Yuna notices, and in the Hollander household love and support are given by force.)

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  17. PS: Prompt is related to the events of The Long Game, so there will be spoilers for the plot of that book! _______ After Shane and Ilya are outed in the events of The Long Game, Montréal and Ottawa play seven games against each other in the Eastern Conference. The Centaurs still love their captain, of course. The Voyageurs, however, are not so united. _______ A.K.A - Five times Shane’s team was an asshole to him, the one time Ilya got to do something about it, and the obvious humiliation ritual that is the Centaurs playing a game against a post-Hollander era Voyageurs.

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    AO3:
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  18. Shane loves Christmas. He always has. A quiet time surrounded by family, with good food and presents, and time to let his brain just sit. He can’t wait to bask in his parents' love and attention, being with people who he (mostly) doesn’t have to hide or perform around. Though he’d be lying if he said that his thoughts have been solely on them. Because every time he’s not busy, he finds his thoughts wandering to Ilya Rozanov. What is Rozanov doing? Does he even celebrate Christmas? Does he wish he could spend it back home in Russia? Does he have anyone to spend Christmas with? Would he want to spend it with Shane if he could? Fucking, of course. They would be fucking, because that’s what they do. Always. There is absolutely nothing else there. But still, in the quietest moments, he wonders… _____ Or, Christmas keeps finding Shane and Ilya at every stage of their lives— from rivals, to lovers, to husbands

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    AO3:
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  19. A misunderstanding, old insecurities, and one badly timed coffee leave cracks in Shane and Ilya’s marriage just as the Centaurs take the ice against Montreal. When a sudden injury forces everything into sharp focus, love has to speak louder than pride.

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  20. Shane has his wisdom tooth removed. Ilya panics, Shane is high on painkillers. Inspired by the hospital scene in episode 5

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    AO3:
    #76231211
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