KupferRost

Would you read a fic with this theme? 🥰~ I would love your opinion! (This is an homage to my job as an optician, and it's still a WIP.) He didn’t need glasses, but as an optician, he had to wear them because his face, with a perfectly fitting frame from the newest collection, was the best advertising one could get. And he made the glasses look better. A few customers - a lot actually - had complimented him; some even wanted the exact same model he wore, and Ilya liked playing around with different choices. Every day he chose something else. His private collection was big by now, a perk he got from his employer and used shamelessly. Some glasses were cheaper for him; the majority were even free. It was almost a shame he only had anti-reflective lenses without prescription. Some of them had at least a blue light filter for working with screens. Still a little useless for non-fashion purposes, and in private he wore mostly sunglasses if the occasion asked for it. One of the new glasses caught his interest, and he took the frame to try it on. It was after hours, the store was closed, and he was only here to do some finishing touches before the business opened up again tomorrow. It would be unprofessional to do the arranging of new articles and cleaning during business hours - at least for ‘Azure Elegance,’ the high-end store he worked for.

As he scrutinized the fit of the frames on his face, he heard the phone ring. A little unusual, especially after opening hours; he raised a brow at the phone. He meant to ignore it, but it was persisting - longer than normally people would wait for someone to take the call. Also, it was his fault that he hadn’t enabled the recorded message that played after hours whenever a treasured customer tried to reach them. Ilya sighed, prepared himself mentally, and grabbed the phone.

“The fuck? You’re licking my palm!” he sputtered, and not a moment later Hammersmith was in a headlock clawing at Ilya’s arm, laughing like a madman and looking pretty smug about getting a rise out of Rozanov. Ilya’s muscles were bunching under the golden, sun-kissed skin and Shane's brain went blank for a moment.

“So… what is it you have for me?” He patted Anya's soft fur as she greeted him.

Shane entered the living room of the cottage, hair still wet from his shower after his morning run. Ilya had shooed him away because he needed some time to surprise Shane. And Shane, being Shane, had made up all sorts of scenarios in his head, and that was probably Ilya’s intention all along, because he knew his husband. A big smile was plastered on his face. “Patience, Моя любовь,” he breathed against Shane's lips and kissed him, deep and passionate. Shane was about to shove his hand down Ilya’s pants as he drew away. “First breakfast!” Ilya broke the connection and led him to the kitchen, where the table was set carefully and was simply perfect. After Shane had eaten a lovingly prepared meal, not just a plain protein shake, he leaned back in his chair and stared at Ilya, who smiled and started to clear away everything, giving kisses to Shane's cheeks, lips, and forehead whenever he passed him while cleaning the table. He had insisted Shane didn't lift a finger. The table now clean, Ilya fished out a book-shaped present. The paper was covered with cute little ‘wolfbirds’ and Shane had to smile. “Open it,” Ilya sat down opposite Shane and his hazel eyes didn’t leave him for a second as Shane carefully opened the package so as not to destroy the paper. Ilya only rolled his eyes.

Then Shane pulled out a book. Not just any book. It was a photobook and Shane already felt tears well up as he saw the picture on the front. It was him and Ilya at the cottage, sitting on the couch. A cheesy selfie. Ilya laughing, eyes sparkling, and Shane reaching out, a little panicked but smiling, towards Anya because she was trying to lick the lens of the phone. Then he opened the book. On every page were pictures of them, scattered across, with comments added by Ilya. Pictures out of newspapers, online articles. Press conferences, then the selfie he took at the award ceremony. And on and on it went; finally, there were photos of them together out in the open. Normal couple selfies, with his parents. No, their parents, and their friends. Together. He felt Anya's head resting on his thigh, as she looked up towards him out of big concerned eyes and Shane patted her. “I’m fine, girl,” he mumbled and looked up towards Ilya, his face was blurry. “Thank you, Ilya,” he hiccuped and then he felt his husband stand up, going around the table, picking up the book, placing it on the table and sitting down on Shane’s lap. “Always, моя любовь,” Ilya whispered, his own voice sounding choked and wet. He kissed Shane, and he tasted the salt of Ilya’s tears and smiled into the kiss. “I love you so much.”

It was as if Hollander knew exactly that Ilya was watching, and it was so out of character for the polite Canadian that even the commentators fired up about it. But something else lodged inside his chest as he felt his heart pump even harder… His hand rested against his chest, feeling the rapid thumping of his heart, the phone forgotten, as he slowly realized his thoughts and swallowed hard. Hollander, his boyfriend?

Nah.

But he wished at that moment it was the truth.

It's too fast, Ilya's brain can't catch up, his spiraling thoughts and his body moving before he can even think... words leave his mouth and everything is silent, everyone holds their breath at the scene unfolding, in the final minutes at the game Montreal Metros vs Boston Raiders.

or

Shane on the ice, people on top of him and the fear of losing him gets Ilya to dive in and forgetting that he is mic'd up for the game.

~ “I can’t do this again,” he mumbled, fear etched into his voice. The memory was one of many, replaying in his head at this moment. As people crashed inside and on top of each other, he saw Shane go down and before he remembered, before he even registered what was happening, what he was doing, his stick was thrown against Marlow, hitting him in the chest and sliding away on the ice, and Ilya was in there. Throwing his entire bodyweight into Pike, he felt something ugly hit him in the side, but he didn’t feel pain. In his head, only Shane was important. ~

Shane Hollander is the first Omega in the NHL, and the league isn’t ready for him. Between relentless media scrutiny, a skeptical team, and pheromones thrown dangerously off balance by one Alpha, just focusing on his future is a fight.

Unfortunately, that Alpha is Ilya Rozanov. He is not just a disruption, but a constant pull on instincts he can’t afford to lose control to, and the only one who sees past the pressure.

One clash on the ice is all it takes to get under Ilya’s skin, and into his head. Months later, he still can’t shake it, even though his career seems finally stable. Not only Shane is on his mind constantly, his family is closing in on him, endangering is new won independence.

And next he knows, one incident could end it all, if he can't find a solution and it unleashes a wave of events that throw off his and Shane's life.

___________

or: Shane and Ilya are unlikely magnets who draw in and throw off each other and their only way out is working together, to find out how they align best. Rated: Explicit - Please mind the tags!