Shane & Ilya's Trophy Room

He starts rationing it more carefully when he sees the contents of the bottle dwindling. He dreads the day he will find it empty. Sure, he could buy another bottle but it wouldn't feel the same. It would feel like a poor imitation of the mark he's been proudly wearing in secret, right under everyone's noses.

The first time he meets up with Rozanov without wearing it, the reception is cold. He can feel the anger simmering under every word. He doesn't address it until he's pushed Shane to his absolute limits and it comes out in mean and harsh and accusatory comments that try to cover up how affected he is by Shane not wearing it; the worries about what it means that he's stopped. Shane is far enough gone by then that he admits he's been saving it; that he's close to running out. It comes out in oversensitive whimpers and half-swallowed whines as Rozanov's punishing thrusts punch the pathetic confession out of him. They don't discuss it further but, after that, Rozanov starts gifting him colognes with increased frequency.

the profounder is the stain by Anonymous (13,489 words, rated E)

“Adventurous,” Ilya said, smiling sharply.

“Shut up.”

“This is unlike you.”

“Shut up.”

Ilya did, pulling open the sealed cardboard slots instead and upturning the box over his palm, not all that careful considering its contents were glass, letting the bottle fall into his hand.

“Shit, Rozanov,” Shane said, exasperated. “I was going to return it.”

“Oh, no, you will go broke now?" Ilya popped the cap off the perfume and sprayed it at Shane.

A pretty gift by 11T (1,351 words, rated M)

“Well, don’t you look... pretty.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, embarrassed at his choice of outfit. “This was such a bad idea.”

Sliding Doors by @sweet-s0rr0w (3,166 words, rated T)

“But – but your son. Maybe he is busy,” Ilya says, loudly. She’s still holding the doors open with her foot; they give another clunk of protest. “Maybe he make plans already.” “Oh, Shane’s not busy,” she says, tapping away. “He’ll be getting an early night.” “Maybe–” Ilya tries again, “maybe I get an early night.” Her gaze flicks up to him then, sharp and knowing. “I won’t keep you long,” she tells him. “It'll be so good for you two to get to know each other...”

hope is a heartache by @anincompletelist (3,246 words, rated M)

But the smoke clears and Hollander is gone and Ilya is alone again on this rooftop, and the cold is sobering, the tie at his neck too tight. Hollander knows fear too: No one is looking. You don’t know that.

And now he is somewhere downstairs again, with aged liquor in his stomach and Ilya’s smoke on his breath, alone but in a different way. This, too, is Ilya’s fault somehow—the rooftop, his absence, the cigarette. The way Hollander had come up here in search of something and left with less than even that. 

Ilya looks down at his hands. He knows how to do more than just take, he thinks. He just has to remember. 

He curses, jabs the flame out until it’s ash, and finds his way back inside. 

we're strangers, we're not friends by @isozyme (5,359 words, rated T)

The Metros really were lousy at hockey. Shane Hollander was the only talent they had, which was why they threw the C on his chest before they even made it to the All Star break. The Raiders hadn’t given Ilya even an A yet. Coach had taken him aside and told him they weren’t going to think about a leadership role on the team until he’d finished his rookie year. He had enough to deal with, Coach said, which was nicer than saying Ilya was still nineteen, and his English sucked shit, and they weren’t quite done being worried about “character issues.”

next time, probably by @schittyfic (5,729 words, rated E)

"We should – in the shower, maybe? The water would cover up any…” Hollander clears his throat awkwardly. “Noises.”

Ilya stares at him. A thoroughly entertained grin spreads slowly across his face. “Noises,” he repeats.

Hollander opens his mouth, closes it again. His lips are so swollen. Ilya wants to bite them. “Well, do you want him to hear everything?” 

Or: Shane's worried they'll be overheard in room 1221. He has a very sensible solution. Ilya has other ideas.

Bad Thing I: Saddle Up, Cowboy by synchronik (10,838 words, rated E)

Ilya Rozanov has seen the tape on Hollander, seen his blazing speed and his quick hands, his almost psychic ability to know where the puck will be. Hollander is a magician on the ice, the best prospect in the world except for Ilya himself.

But up close, Hollander looks young. Soft. Western. He has big eyes and freckles across his nose like a little kid. He is attractive in the way that many young men are attractive, his face not yet hardened by the work of the real world, and he seems nervous to be out here, nervous to be seen with Ilya. Because Ilya has been forced to learn everything about Hollander, Ilya knows that Hollander is older than him, not much, a few weeks. But looking at him, Ilya feels weary and old. He hates that.

Good Thing I: You Think I'm Pretty by synchronik (18,376 words, rated E)

I should probably just leave this guy alone, Shane thinks as he pushes open the heavy metal security door. He's already said hi to Lemaire and the other guys playing in the tournament, so there's no reason why he needs to come out here in the cold. He could wait to meet until they're all back inside. He could wait until the interviews. He could just not do it at all.

A pretty gift by 11T (1,351 words, rated M)

“Well, don’t you look... pretty.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, embarrassed at his choice of outfit. “This was such a bad idea.”

Sliding Doors by @sweet-s0rr0w (3,166 words, rated T)

“But – but your son. Maybe he is busy,” Ilya says, loudly. She’s still holding the doors open with her foot; they give another clunk of protest. “Maybe he make plans already.” “Oh, Shane’s not busy,” she says, tapping away. “He’ll be getting an early night.” “Maybe–” Ilya tries again, “maybe I get an early night.” Her gaze flicks up to him then, sharp and knowing. “I won’t keep you long,” she tells him. “It'll be so good for you two to get to know each other...”

hope is a heartache by @anincompletelist (3,246 words, rated M)

But the smoke clears and Hollander is gone and Ilya is alone again on this rooftop, and the cold is sobering, the tie at his neck too tight. Hollander knows fear too: No one is looking. You don’t know that.

And now he is somewhere downstairs again, with aged liquor in his stomach and Ilya’s smoke on his breath, alone but in a different way. This, too, is Ilya’s fault somehow—the rooftop, his absence, the cigarette. The way Hollander had come up here in search of something and left with less than even that. 

Ilya looks down at his hands. He knows how to do more than just take, he thinks. He just has to remember. 

He curses, jabs the flame out until it’s ash, and finds his way back inside. 

we're strangers, we're not friends by @isozyme (5,359 words, rated T)

The Metros really were lousy at hockey. Shane Hollander was the only talent they had, which was why they threw the C on his chest before they even made it to the All Star break. The Raiders hadn’t given Ilya even an A yet. Coach had taken him aside and told him they weren’t going to think about a leadership role on the team until he’d finished his rookie year. He had enough to deal with, Coach said, which was nicer than saying Ilya was still nineteen, and his English sucked shit, and they weren’t quite done being worried about “character issues.”

next time, probably by @schittyfic (5,729 words, rated E)

"We should – in the shower, maybe? The water would cover up any…” Hollander clears his throat awkwardly. “Noises.”

Ilya stares at him. A thoroughly entertained grin spreads slowly across his face. “Noises,” he repeats.

Hollander opens his mouth, closes it again. His lips are so swollen. Ilya wants to bite them. “Well, do you want him to hear everything?” 

Or: Shane's worried they'll be overheard in room 1221. He has a very sensible solution. Ilya has other ideas.

Bad Thing I: Saddle Up, Cowboy by synchronik (10,838 words, rated E)

Ilya Rozanov has seen the tape on Hollander, seen his blazing speed and his quick hands, his almost psychic ability to know where the puck will be. Hollander is a magician on the ice, the best prospect in the world except for Ilya himself.

But up close, Hollander looks young. Soft. Western. He has big eyes and freckles across his nose like a little kid. He is attractive in the way that many young men are attractive, his face not yet hardened by the work of the real world, and he seems nervous to be out here, nervous to be seen with Ilya. Because Ilya has been forced to learn everything about Hollander, Ilya knows that Hollander is older than him, not much, a few weeks. But looking at him, Ilya feels weary and old. He hates that.

Good Thing I: You Think I'm Pretty by synchronik (18,376 words, rated E)

I should probably just leave this guy alone, Shane thinks as he pushes open the heavy metal security door. He's already said hi to Lemaire and the other guys playing in the tournament, so there's no reason why he needs to come out here in the cold. He could wait to meet until they're all back inside. He could wait until the interviews. He could just not do it at all.

A Hollonov rec list with a theme for seeing their relationship from outside characters points of view.

looking in; looking over by @capriciouswrites (1,685 words, rated T)

Svetlana has been watching Ilya skate since before he could see over the boards. She hasn't watched all of his games, of course, but most of them. Now that he's in the MHL she watches all of them — although sometimes after the fact. If just so she can text him with exactly what she thinks he did wrong — openings he didn't take or bad choices. He loves her, really.

Cliff does not claim to be one of the smartest bastards on the ice — wouldn't wanna be. That kind of pressure and stress? Fuck that. But he isn't dumb and he's observant as shit.

Hayden loves Shane. He does. But he sometimes get pissed off with what Shane can get away with.

Or: No one sees the fully picture, but they all get pieces.

parachute by titowrites (4,816 words, rated T)

In the quiet of night, twenty minutes after Darya turned twelve, her mother hands her a present with a blank name slip.

“These are from your uncles, they love you so much. Uncle Ilya misses you.”

speak to us of clothes by @baroness-elsa (5,003 words, rated T)

Shane Hollander, hockey player extraordinaire, hovers in the doorway to his impressively designed but sparsely filled walk-in closet, looking at her with wide eyes like she might shoot him if he’s got the wrong things in there. If she finds any cargo shorts, she might shoot herself.

or: shane hires a stylist.

Out of the shadows, and onto the ice by @gingerbaggins (6,817 words, rated T)

In this exclusive profile, spend the day on a lakeshore in Ottawa. Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov are finally ready to introduce themselves.

we keep it secret (won't let them have it) by @poppypickle (7,418 words, rated T)

Five times someone unexpected keeps Shane and Ilya’s secret, and one time they don’t have to. Featuring the Pike twins, Zane Boodram’s pregnant wife, Ilya’s neighbors, and more.

the things you buy, the secrets i keep (3,627 words, rated G) and the stories you tell (and those i keep safe) (5,128 words, rated G), a series by @sleepberries

Amélie's work days are usually boring. Sit at the counter, help people find things, process orders. If she's lucky, she'll get great commission when someone shows up to spend money for money's sake. Her only companions her phone and the near constant presence of Shane Hollander's Rolex campaigns.

So, boring. Until Shane Hollander walks through the door.

Vibes Are Not Data by (18,684 words, rated T)

Wyatt was not, like, nosy. For sure, he was interested. He was curious. He engaged with people, obviously, because most people were interesting and engaging and had cool thoughts and said neat stuff if you asked.