Shane's eyes shot open with a full-body shiver as his chest tightened in anxious waves. He sat up slowly, trying to catch his breath without disrupting his husband.
With a gentle touch, Shane reached over and placed his hand on Ilya's back to feel the reassuring rise and fall of his breathing. A much-needed sign of life after Shane's terrible nightmare.
Ilya lifted his head off the pillow just enough to turn toward Shane with a curious hum, sensing something was wrong. "Shane?"
"Shh," Shane quietly shushed Ilya, hoping to lull him back to sleep. "Go back to sleep, baby."
Shane smiled slightly at the confused, mostly asleep English. It was enough to distract him from his stuttered breathing. "I'm okay, just a bad dream."
Ilya let out a disgruntled huff as he rolled onto his side and held out his arm. "Come," he said, peeking one eye open to make sure his husband followed the request.
Shane tucked himself into Ilya's chest with a relieved sigh. In the quiet of their bedroom, he let the strong heartbeat beneath his ear soothe away the lingering worry from his nightmare about losing this exact sensation.
"Sleep now, do not listen to mean brain," Ilya mumbled as he raised his hand clumsily and stroked Shane's hair. "We are good here."
Shane smiled into Ilya's chest at the sweet ramblings that were nearly incoherent but comforted him all the same. He somehow tucked himself closer and quietly repeated, "Mhm, good here."
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Shane was actually not prepared for how different travelling with the centaurs are. Sure, he expected it to be nicer, having Ilya at his side. Basically he thought, he would just stick to watching movies, maybe read a few pages, and taking perfectly timed naps to prevent a jet lag, just that maybe now he could rest his head on Ilyas shoulder. Well. He might never know peace again.
He is now regular part of the little card playing group, playing one or two rounds of poker or asshole at the beginning of their flight. They are laughing and trashtalking and Shane's pleasently suprised he's not getting thrown out the group for ripping the others off with his stone hard poker face.
Shane accidentally started a book club that now semi-regularly holds meetings in their airplane to discuss hockey books, a tradtion that started when Luca asked Shane what he was reading and then proceeded to buy the books as well, which caused a handful more team members to follow suit.
But his favourite thing to do is talking shop with Ilya. Both off them sticking their heads together over their ipad, going though game tape, discussing strategies, examine plays with a level of perspicacity reserved just for them. Often they sit together with Bood and Troy, so they all can exchange their experiences with different opponents, examine weaknesses and strengths & Shane finds so much calm and joy in being part of a group of like-minded people, talking like equals, like a real team, not having to carry the burden of being the head of the team alone.
Shane doesn't get to watch as many movies alone and in peace anymore as before but he wouldn't change it for the world.
it's ilya's first morning waking up at the cottage. he's all drenched in soft golden light and warm along his left side, the press of shane's skin against his in the delicate, hazy morning sunshine is a heady thing. shane's body is lax, all his tissues like butter, soft and maleable, his skin dimpling where ilya presses his fingers into muscle. he's never had shane beside him quite like this. in boston he'd come close. waking up with shane trapped in the cage of his embrace but that had been a short nap, and shane hadn't been warm like this, he hadn't smelt like this. all sleepy and a little sweaty and a little like the smoke from the fire last night and a little like his eucalyptus shampoo. and it's the best he's ever slept. pressed along the soft line of shane's sleeping body, his bicep pinned beneath shane's head, and even when he wakes up and his arm is numb and a little sore at the elbow where it's been bent all night it's the best he's ever slept. it's also the best wake up ever.
shane is looking up at him when he blinks his eyes open. he gets an eyeful of puffy-faced, sleep rumpled shane. all big brown eyes and freckles and mussed hair and swollen pink lips -- from kissing, from all the kissing they did yesterday, their mouths drawn together over and over and over throughout the day like they just couldn't stop. ilya wakes up to shane murmuring 'good morning' all gravelly and low, soft and sweet. his voice like honey. and ilya says 'good morning' back and his accent is a little thicker than normal but he doesn't feel self-conscious. shane smiles at him and ilya melts. shane gets these lines just beneath his eyes, dimpling into the skin of his cheeks when he smiles like that, and his mouth stretches puffy and red and lovely and ilya is helpless but to confess 'i like you' and shane's eyes are so so so tender when he says 'i like you too'. ilya stares at him, moves his hand to card his fingers through the mess of shane's hair and he wants to kiss him so bad but shane is moving, nuzzling into his touch, smiling as he settles back against ilya. and ilya turns his face to press his nose into shane's hairline, breathing him in, swallowing around those other words sitting in his throat.
it's quiet for a while, shane just breathing deep against him as the forrest outside wakes up, birds chirping and bugs buzzing in the rising heat of the morning. ilya wonders if shane's fallen back asleep but then shane is rolling into him, pressing his mouth to the underside of ilya's pec, smearing his mouth over the moles dotted there and he's making that sound that's something like a purr and makes ilya want to eat him. ilya turns his head down and watches shane as he nuzzles his face into ilya's pecs, as he kisses over ilya's breastbone and heart. his fingers stay in shane's hair, gently tugging on the strands as shane presses tight tight tighter to his side until they're plastered together, shane's leg between his, half of shane's body on top of him.
and then shane is lifting his head and ilya is cupping shane's chin, pressing his thumb to the corner of shane's mouth, tugging on his pretty swollen lips. shane's face tilts into the touch and his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, catching the tip of ilya's thumb. shane's hands are tucked around ilya's ribs, fingers making circles over sensitive flesh. and then ilya is bending awkwardly, stretching his neck to capture shane's mouth in a searing kiss. he doesn't care that the angle hurts his neck or strains his traps. he wants to kiss this beautiful sleepy version of shane that's nuzzling into him and purring like he's some big, heavy cat. and shane's mouth tastes like stale morning breath and his lips are sloppy and a little over sensitive but ilya doesn't care. the kiss is perfect. he licks into shane's mouth and drags shane closer until shane is sitting on his stomach and bending down over him, his big hands now on either side of ilya's head and holding him in place. shane's thumbs rub over his earlobes and ilya breathes a sigh of relieve -- the touch soothes the parts of him still lingering in the impossibility of this all -- and ilya grips shane's face back, thumbs pressing into the hinge of shane's strong jaw and urging him to release, to slacken, to let ilya press his tongue into the depths of shane's hot mouth. shane relents to the touch easily, of course, jaw slack and breathes panting in increasingly higher whines and ilya bites at his already sensitive lips and sucks on his tongue.
the makeout turns to rolling over the mattress, limbs tangling together, hands shoving briefs aside so they're entirely skin-to-skin. ilya's hands find the meat of shane's ass and his fingers dig in, kneading the flesh, pushing them closer together. shane's hands mimic the movement of ilya's and he grins as shane squeezes his ass and drags their hips tight together in a uncoordinated inelegant rhythm. rolling waves of pressure and closeness in each sliding press of their swollen cocks together. and shane is breathing a little shaky and his mouth has dropped open and his lashes are fluttering and his cheeks are pink and ilya is dropping kisses over and over and over, all across the skin in reach. a kiss to shane's jaw, his chin, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his eyelids, his brows, his lips, his lips, his lips. and he wants to swallow shane whole and he wants to look at him forever and he wants to fuck him and he wants to hold him and he wants to kiss kiss kiss him.
"please fuck me," shane's whispering, shivering when ilya presses his fingers between his cheeks and feels where shane is still relaxed and tender from yesterday. they'd fucked once, twice, three times before the end of the day. unable to help themselves. the first time a rush of pushing biting scratching shoving with shane on his knees. then with shane on top gripping at ilya's chest and riding ilya so filthy, so fast, so fierce it had made ilya's brain melt out his ears helpless but to grasp at shane's hips and grunt with each skilled roll of the man's body. then with shane on his back, legs locked around ilya's hips and their fingers tangled, pressing into the mattress above their heads as they kissed and moved lazily in the soft glow of the lamplight. and between that they'd kissed, and kissed, and kissed. kissed tangled on the couch after dinner. kissed by the firepit with ilya's hands cupping the back of shane's head. kissed in the shower pressed against the cool glass. kissed after they'd brushed their teeth, breaths minty, shane sitting on the counter and wrapping his legs around ilya's hips, keeping them close together.
and then shane's pleading, again, "please, ilya, fuck me." and ilya is humming, nodding, pressing shane down into the mattress and pushing his knees back to open him up. he's staring for a moment, thumb brushing over where shane is sensitive and clenching around nothing, begging to be filled, and then he's moaning and dragging his tongue over the hot flesh, kissing and sucking and prodding into shane's body with his slick tongue. and he stays there between shane's legs until his chin is slick with saliva and shane is writhing and tugging at his hair. when he pulls back shane is all blushing neck and flushed chest and sweat slick forehead and wide blown pupils and he's so so so fucking pretty. he's so fucking pretty and he likes ilya. he's so fucking pretty and he wants ilya to fuck him. he's so fucking pretty and he wants to relax with ilya, for once. and ilya is crawling back up his body and kissing him again and shane is moaning and biting at his mouth and arching up to rub his cock into ilya's hip and he's cupping ilya's balls with one hand and shoving the other in ilya's curls and gripping tight and saying "i like you so much" and ilya is grinding his body into shane's touch and then he's gasping and fuck did he just...?
shane's hips still and ilya squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a long, self-admonishing groan, head dropping down to the crook of shane's neck, hiding himself there in the warmth of shane's skin. and shane is giggling and ilya is pinching his side and shane is just giggling harder.
"did you just...?" shane asks and ilya is growling "shut up" as shane is tugging on his hair trying to get him to look at him. when he pulls back -- finally -- he expects to see maybe disappointment but shane is grinning wild and wide. his eyes are all crinkled and his freckles are bunched up around his nose and his mouth is stretched in a smile ilya has never seen before and he puffs a breath as he looks at this pretty, beautiful, perfect man. who likes him. so much. of course he just...
"sorry," he mumbles and shane shakes his head and nuzzles their mouths together, dragging lazy kisses over ilya's slack lips. "no," he's saying "that was hot" and ilya is making an indignant sound. it was definitely not hot that he just came from shane barely touching him and talking to him all sweetly in his deep morning voice. "you really like me," shane teases and ilya groans "you like me so much you came before i even did anything" and ilya is muttering "shut the fuck up" and shane is laughing again but it turns to moaning gasping whimpering when ilya wraps a calloused palm around shane's dribbling cock, thumb pressing meanly into the sensitive head.
and then he's bullying shane onto his stomach and yanking his hips up and spreading his cheeks with his hands and pushing his tongue back into shane's hole. eating him out ferociously, rough and sloppy, morning stubble dragging a little painfully over sensitve skin. and he won't touch shane's dick. he won't let shane come. he won't let shane touch himself. he's indulging in sucking and kissing and tonguing at shane's pretty wet loose hole until he is hard again and then he's fucking shane long and slow and mean. not quite giving him enough to come, driving him over the edge of over sensitve, holding him down between the shoulder blades and making him take it. ilya's come once now he can go on and on and on. and shane is whimpering, tears spilling over red cheeks, by the time ilya finally picks up the pace, adjusts his angle, and gives shane what he wants. fucking into shane hard and brutal and precise. cock dragging over that perfect spot on every press in and on every drag back out. still he doesn't let shane touch himself and shane is hiccuping, gripping at the sheets and clenching his teeth around pathetic little mewls by the time he is finally coming. handsfree. shaking beneath ilya's hold. ilya pulls out and tears of the condom and jerks himself off furiously until he's coming all over shane's ass, painting his skin in sticky, thick cum. shane's gasping at the sensation and his spent cock dribbles more between his legs as he whimpers, reaching back for ilya's hand, fingers clenching and unclenching begging for connection.
and ilya's slowly turns shane over and slides their fingers together, bring shane's knuckles to his mouth, kissing over the thick, boyish knobs of his knuckles. and then he's slumping over shane and kissing all over his face and murmuring "i do really like you" and shane is smiling, dopey and fuckdrunk and angling his face into each kiss like a sunflower seeking sunlight. "i really like you" he's mumbling and their noses nudge and their lips smear and that's how ilya wakes up on his first morning at shane's cottage.
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headcanon that like his son, david hollander too can also stare at his partner with big doe eyes and get what he wants. it’s rare for ilya to see it but the first time he does he points aggressively and goes “YOU!!! is your fault i never win an argument!!!!” david just blinks while yuna nods solemnly and tells ilya that unfortunately shane learned from the best
shane effortlessly defying ilya's internal self deprecation with the most blunt, heartstopping, to the point sincerity is such an important part of their dynamic to me
"but you know me, i'm lazy, so." "i don't know that side of you at all."
"is that what we are going to do? relax?" "i hope so. i would like to relax with you. for once."
"because you like to be bad." "hey, that's not what this is. you and me. maybe it was at first but, not now, and not for a long time."
to the point where it even usurps other peoples interpretations of ilya before he gets the chance to internalize them -
"but, you hate him." "no. i mean, i get that. but no. i love him."
and ilya has that exact same subtly gobsmacked expression every time he does it
@yearnalisms requested to bring this beautiful text post by @honeyybrii to gif form! all inspo credit to op of the text post! 💜 this tag is especially a good sum up of the set:
#it's genuinely so funny everytime ilya tries to teeheehaha around an insecurity #shane is like actually 🤓👆🏻
My absolute gospel truth and I'm sorry this is so sappy but--where I'm living, Ilya fully changes his name to Hollander when they get married, like just fully legally changes it. And despite the fact that he continues to use Rozanov professionally ("Just like J. Lo," Ilya says.) everyone who knows them personally obviously knows what Ilya's legal name is and also assume it's a way to kind of stick it to his shitheel father. To this end, and kind of as a joke at first, people start referring to their two-person unit as The Hollanders ("Okay, the Hollanders are in room 508" etc.) but it becomes steadily less and less a joke when neither Shane or Ilya really seems to think of it as one. Ilya especially seems to genuinely love it. He'll say shit like "Oh yes the Hollanders will be there" when asked if they're coming to a barbecue like they live in a postcard. He LOVES to give his name as Ilya Hollander and he LOVES to book reservations under 'Misters Hollander' and he LOVES to say the words 'Shane and Ilya Hollander' out loud with his mouth. I also think that for their last game together in the league Ilya and Shane wear jerseys that say S. Hollander 24 and I. Hollander 81 and it's like. An end of an era type thing. And they frame the jerseys.
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To celebrate the final volume coming out, I reread the entirety of Heartstopper 💜 it's incredible to see how much is packed in those 6 volumes, from the romance to mental health issues... I will miss Nick and Charlie 🥲
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Ok. But have any of you thought about shane and Ilya fucking while Ilya is fully dressed in a suit while Shane is all naked and needy in his lap. Maybe it’s an award show- something for the charity. But when they get home, Ilya stays in his pressed expensive suit, nice heavy cuff links, watch, neatly done tie. Even his dress shoes. Shane is on Ilya once they get through the door, nosing and kissing and grabbing and Ilya grabs his face and whispers “needy huh?” And shane huffs “come on Ilya I need you” he’s nuzzling his face into throat, mouthing at the skin, hands pushing under Ilya’s jacket, trying to get the jacket off him. Ilya just clicks his tongue and pulls Shane’s hands together behind his back, gripping at his wrists. “Why don’t you show me, how bad you need me” he asks, and he’s stripping shane out of his jacket, before moving to sit on the couch, legs sprawled out.
Shane gets completely naked, careful work of his clothes as Ilya watches him. Maybe Ilya asks Shane to get them a nightcap, and shane does, naked as he pours them one glass of vodka. “One for you too” ilya insists and shane nods. “wanna share” which makes Ilya smile, rub his hand over his peck as he watches him.
Ilya keeps his arms sprawled along the back of the couch, legs wide as shane climbs into his lap. Ilya wants to touch but it’s so much more fun to feel shane nuzzle into him, like an over eager puppy, his big strong bare thighs shifting against the rough rich fabric of his suit.
Ilya is careful not to move, not until shane is saying “here” and handing Ilya the glass, and Ilya accepts it in his hand. Ilya takes his sip, slow and pulls back to eye shane, who low lidded and staring, chin tilting up in the way that’s him asking for a kiss. Ilya presses the glass to his lips instead and helps shane take a drink. They share it a couple times more before Shane’s squirming getting incessant, wriggling and pushing into Ilya’s warmth. Then a soft “Ilya?” And his hands are on Ilya’s chest, pushing up to fiddle with the white press of his shirt collar, to his tie, fingers fussing.
“Mm come, give me a kiss then” Ilya concedes and shane is on him, hands gripping into his tie and Shane is licking into Ilya’s mouth, hungry, needy, and pressing in tight.
They make out like that, until shane is aching dripping hard and his bare cock is rutting against Ilya’s clothed hip. The suit fabric has such a perfect lovely nice scratch to it, making Shane’s skin tingle and burn. It feels filthy, having Ilya’s hands gripping at his waist, ass, thighs, the fabric of his sleeves dragging over skin.
Shane is making a mess of Ilya’s suit when Ilya gets his fingers inside him, steady wet precum dripping down to the black fabric of Ilya’s suit pants. Lube dripping messy from between his legs, where Ilya is knuckle deep. Some of it smearing on the sleeve.
They fuck like that too, just Ilya’s cock pulled out of the open zip of his pants, and Shane rides him. Shane’s hands are all over Ilya’s body, rucking up fabric and dizzy and needy at not being able to feel his skin- while shane is all skin right now, nude and stretched and wet. Everywhere free for Ilya to be able to touch and grip.
