Ana. Fangirl, Nerd, fanfic writer, artist and occasional poet. Multi fandom but mainly SPN
with a healthy sprinkling of Marvel, PJO, ATLA, SH and books.
Hate free, love for all. SPN season 15 positive.
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Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?
Warnings: Mentions of death, murder, kidnapping, human trafficking, sexual assault, and torture; graphic language, PTSD, Angst, Forced marriage, suspense, slow burn, somehow butterflies-in-stomach kind of fluff, mutual pining. Detailed tags and warnings will be included at the beginning of each chapter.
The series is still a work in progress and so far the torture, and sexual and physical assault are only implied or briefly portrayed. I intend to keep it that way, but should the series take a darker turn, I want to mention the possibility beforehand.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10
Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15
Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20
Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24
**********
Absolutely brilliant art and aesthetic board by the talented @nightsisterkaris
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“I never want to come back here again. I fucking hate it here. And they all fucking hate me. I pay for everything. I make sure everyone has clothes they like. I make sure the food is perfect. That father is buried next to his parents, that the tomb is perfect. And the only fucking word I ever hear is: i want more Ilya, i need more Ilya. More, more, more, more, more. And I have nothing for these people. I give them everything.. but I feel fucking empty. They don't care, they look at me and see a bank. Or an enemy. Or I don't even know what. My brother, he always hated me. And I know why... but it kills me. And it kills me that he took care of my father and I didn't. But I couldn't. I wasn't here. I still paid for it all. And he will never forgive me. For any of it. For existing. And it means... I have no one now. Well not no one, I have Svetlana. She loves me, and I love her. But not like... fuck me. But not like I love you. That's the worst fucking part of all this is. That all I want is you. It's always you. I'm so in love with you and I don't know what to do about it."
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i think the appeal of shane joining the WAGs group chat comes from him learning that people love him when he isn’t shane hollander, and is just himself. he doesn’t have to put on a front or act for the cameras. he’s helping one WAG buy a house, looking at the floor plan, he’s watching games and commenting on weak backhands, he’s giving relationship advice.
i think the appeal of ilya joining the WAGs group chat comes from his ability to insert himself into a group of women and fit in without much effort. he’s watching shane’s games, playing smash or pass with players, ordering a WAGs jacket with hollander written on the back and wearing it with pride.
Summary: The Ottawa Centaurs lose brutally to Vancouver, and Ilya Rozanov is interrupted during a nighttime walk by a little girl asking for an autograph.
In case you want to read it on AO3
"Mr Rozanov?"
Ilya turned at the small, timid voice to see a little girl of no more than seven looking up at him with wide blue eyes.
"It's you, isn't it? Mr Rozanov?"
He'd left the hotel this late into the night to clear his head more than anything. However, he had still found himself at the harbour with a cigarette in his hand—rolling it between his fingers, hesitating a moment before lighting it.
Ilya had texted Shane immediately after the match, just to get a reply, any reply, really. He missed his boyfriend so much it hurt in his bones. He needed to know Shane was around and that Shane cared. But he would probably be asleep. Of course, he would be asleep, given the time in Montreal. The thoughts were pelting his head like unrelenting rain against glass. If he lit the cigarette now, Shane wouldn't know. No one would know except him, and he would have to live with disappointing himself.
But then again, what else was new? Ilya should be used to disappointing himself by now. The match against Vancouver had been brutal, but the team's reaction had been worse. They'd expected the loss, just as they'd expected a defeat in Tampa, New York and Boston. Ilya usually didn't mind the booing of the home crowd, but something about Boston's home crowd's reaction...
That had decided for him as he'd raised the cigarette to his lips when the sweet voice had interrupted him. He'd hastily shoved the cigarette in his pocket and turned around.
The girl's face brightened. "I thought it was you!"
It was well past eleven, and Ilya looked around for the girl's mother, who was standing hesitantly a few feet away. She had an apologetic expression on her face, but also a wariness that Ilya understood well by now. She didn't want him to break her daughter's heart.
"I love watching you play!" the girl said, shuffling her foot. Now that Ilya was looking at her, she couldn't seem to meet his eyes. A flush was creeping up her face as she pulled something out of the small bag slung across her torso. “Can I please have your autograph?”
“Of course.” Ilya crouched to take a closer look at the object, which turned out to be a Funko Pop doll; black eyes from his own inflated head stared back at him.
“She does not leave the house without it,” the mother said, coming to stand behind her. “I can’t believe we ran into you here of all places! We were at the match earlier but could not get to you. We’ve been to every match of yours here.” She pulled out a Sharpie and handed it to a stunned Ilya.
“Ahh, so you were the one cheering for me, yes?” He said, signing the doll’s Ottawa Centaurs shirt.
She smiled. "You are one of my favourites."
"One of? That won't do. I have to be the favourite." He wiggled his eyebrows.
She giggled. “He said the same thing!”
“He!” Ilya made a show out of clutching his chest. “I have a rival now? Who do I have to fight to be your favourite?”
She pulled out another Funko doll, and Ilya recognised the signature before she shyly said, “Mr Hollander.”
“Noooo…” Ilya gasped. “It can’t be him!”
The girl laughed again. “We got to see him last year. He is also awesome to watch. But I know you don’t like him very much.”
Ilya didn’t know what to say, so he just shrugged. The mother put a hand over her daughter’s shoulders, subtly reining her in, then smiled. “Don’t mind her. She’s always pretending to be you or Shane Hollander on the ice, and her secret dream is for both of you to play on the same team one day.”
“At night, I make the two of you kiss each other so you two can be friends. See!” She demonstrated by mashing the dolls’ faces together, and Ilya laughed so suddenly that he nearly lost his balance and fell out of the crouch.
It was a while before he could stop laughing, but he managed, “Oh, Hollander should be so lucky to get to kiss my pretty face every night.”
The girl giggled again.
“We won’t take any more of your time,” said the mother. “Thank you for being so nice to my Jane.”
“Jane? Your name’s really Jane?”
She nodded as her mother guided her away after a polite thank you. “Can’t wait to see you the next time you’re in Vancouver, Mr Rozanov,” she said in parting.
Ilya couldn’t help but smile, feeling lighter than he had in days. “I can’t wait to see you, too, Jane!”
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he unlocked it to see a reply from Shane.
* I miss you. I love you. Facetime? *
Ilya hit the FaceTime button faster than lightning. Shane’s sleepy face and sleepy smile appeared on the screen, and Ilya was filled with so much love that he thought he wouldn’t have been able to draw another breath if he hadn’t seen Shane’s face.
“Hey,” said Shane.
“Hey,” Ilya breathed back.
He discarded the cigarette in his pocket in the dustbin by the railing as he started walking back to the hotel, and said, “You wouldn’t believe what just happened, moya lyubov…”
In the background of the video clip, posted by a fan at the hotel breakfast just before Christmas 2018, Shane Hollander is talking on the phone. He looks tired but he's smiling, pushing scrambled eggs around his plate with a fork. "I saw, baby," he says. "No, definitely, no way that was slashing, I'm with you. You'll get them next time, though. Beautiful goal you got in the first, that was so fucking sexy. I can't wait to see you tomorrow. Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Love you."
Which leads to a bit of an uproar because omg Shane Hollander has a girlfriend?? who plays hockey???? that's so on brand for him like. okay who was playing last night and got a goal in the first period, we need to find the woman who has Shane Hollander crooning into his phone like a lovestruck teenager. and the consensus lands on an unsuspecting and entirely unrelated CWHL forward who has never even been in the same city as Shane but the Internet is running with the story and there's journalists harassing her and Shane has to get his agent to call her agent so he can apologise for this mess and she's like, dude, I know it's not your fault, but Shane feels so fucking bad about it, you know?
And unfortunately it doesn't really let up as quickly as they thought because it's right before Christmas and isn't this a great story, fucking Hallmark movie shit, so a very unimpressed Leila (her name is Leila) has to look a reporter in the eye after her team just played a really good fucking game of hockey and everybody wants to talk to her about some fucking guy, you know? so she looks him in the eye and says, no, I am not dating Shane Hollander, I have never dated Shane Hollander, I will never date Shane Hollander, I am literally a lesbian. I have a whole-ass girlfriend. She plays for the Blades.
And Shane Hollander is so consumed by jealousy he almost chokes.
Loving the idea that after some time has passed and everybody has calmed tf down, it becomes a silly little joke like yeah, how's my girlfriend's boyfriend doing?, they mostly hang out at hockey events especially once the Irina Foundation is a bit more established and Shane is putting more effort into his charity work but then they just always end up getting tipsy in a corner together, talking puck and bitching about the press and their own sick enjoyment, all three of them laughing and it's genuinely fun and he's fine, it's fine, Shane is not burning alive with greed at all.
Leila sends him a photo the next morning at buttfuck o'clock of her gf in running gear like "i told her Shane Hollander would bring me breakfast in bed, not abandon me to go exercise" and Shane replies "so sorry to disappoint you also does this mean Marie got the code for the hotel gym?" and then they gradually become real friends and the next time they’re at some gala Leila's insta story complaining that "they’re ganging up on me" because Shane and Marie dragged her out for a run goes a bit too viral and of course the tabloids run all sorts of bullshit about how he's cheating in Rose Landry with Leila or on Leila with Marie or
once Hollanov are out and public the running joke is that everybody thought Ilya was the womaniser but Shane somehow managed to land three girlfriends at once
I think for a long time Shane had a very distant, acerbic view of his own attractiveness that was all tied up with the way he engaged with his body as a tool. Like, I'm not saying he was blithely unaware of his sex appeal, I just think he categorised it as something else his body as a machine, a tool for success, was capable of and that it could be used for fiscal gain (eg: advertisements, brand endorsements, pr gigs, etc. You can't exactly be the face of a franchise if you don't have a nice face).
I ALSO think this ambivalence towards his own sex appeal was primarily due to how thoroughly he'd divorced his mind from his sexuality and thus, desire. WHICH IS WHY it took hooking up with Ilya (ie: having a mutually sexually satisfying and erotic experience) for him to start engaging with himself as a sexual, and thus a desirable, being.
Like, when I say "Shane is unaware of his own attractiveness", I am NOT saying he has low self esteem, I am saying that for so long he could not even think about engaging with sensuality and desirability because that would open up avenues of thought that he'd very firmly closed.
What I'm getting at is, I think Shane's relationship with Ilya was incredibly sexually liberating for him, obviously, but that it was also the first time he could truly conceive of himself as someone who could be sexually desirable. And I'd love to see this newfound confidence blossom in the bedroom~
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Summary: The Ottawa Centaurs lose brutally to Vancouver, and Ilya Rozanov is interrupted during a nighttime walk by a little girl asking for an autograph.
In case you want to read it on AO3
"Mr Rozanov?"
Ilya turned at the small, timid voice to see a little girl of no more than seven looking up at him with wide blue eyes.
"It's you, isn't it? Mr Rozanov?"
He'd left the hotel this late into the night to clear his head more than anything. However, he had still found himself at the harbour with a cigarette in his hand—rolling it between his fingers, hesitating a moment before lighting it.
Ilya had texted Shane immediately after the match, just to get a reply, any reply, really. He missed his boyfriend so much it hurt in his bones. He needed to know Shane was around and that Shane cared. But he would probably be asleep. Of course, he would be asleep, given the time in Montreal. The thoughts were pelting his head like unrelenting rain against glass. If he lit the cigarette now, Shane wouldn't know. No one would know except him, and he would have to live with disappointing himself.
But then again, what else was new? Ilya should be used to disappointing himself by now. The match against Vancouver had been brutal, but the team's reaction had been worse. They'd expected the loss, just as they'd expected a defeat in Tampa, New York and Boston. Ilya usually didn't mind the booing of the home crowd, but something about Boston's home crowd's reaction...
That had decided for him as he'd raised the cigarette to his lips when the sweet voice had interrupted him. He'd hastily shoved the cigarette in his pocket and turned around.
The girl's face brightened. "I thought it was you!"
It was well past eleven, and Ilya looked around for the girl's mother, who was standing hesitantly a few feet away. She had an apologetic expression on her face, but also a wariness that Ilya understood well by now. She didn't want him to break her daughter's heart.
"I love watching you play!" the girl said, shuffling her foot. Now that Ilya was looking at her, she couldn't seem to meet his eyes. A flush was creeping up her face as she pulled something out of the small bag slung across her torso. “Can I please have your autograph?”
“Of course.” Ilya crouched to take a closer look at the object, which turned out to be a Funko Pop doll; black eyes from his own inflated head stared back at him.
“She does not leave the house without it,” the mother said, coming to stand behind her. “I can’t believe we ran into you here of all places! We were at the match earlier but could not get to you. We’ve been to every match of yours here.” She pulled out a Sharpie and handed it to a stunned Ilya.
“Ahh, so you were the one cheering for me, yes?” He said, signing the doll’s Ottawa Centaurs shirt.
She smiled. "You are one of my favourites."
"One of? That won't do. I have to be the favourite." He wiggled his eyebrows.
She giggled. “He said the same thing!”
“He!” Ilya made a show out of clutching his chest. “I have a rival now? Who do I have to fight to be your favourite?”
She pulled out another Funko doll, and Ilya recognised the signature before she shyly said, “Mr Hollander.”
“Noooo…” Ilya gasped. “It can’t be him!”
The girl laughed again. “We got to see him last year. He is also awesome to watch. But I know you don’t like him very much.”
Ilya didn’t know what to say, so he just shrugged. The mother put a hand over her daughter’s shoulders, subtly reining her in, then smiled. “Don’t mind her. She’s always pretending to be you or Shane Hollander on the ice, and her secret dream is for both of you to play on the same team one day.”
“At night, I make the two of you kiss each other so you two can be friends. See!” She demonstrated by mashing the dolls’ faces together, and Ilya laughed so suddenly that he nearly lost his balance and fell out of the crouch.
It was a while before he could stop laughing, but he managed, “Oh, Hollander should be so lucky to get to kiss my pretty face every night.”
The girl giggled again.
“We won’t take any more of your time,” said the mother. “Thank you for being so nice to my Jane.”
“Jane? Your name’s really Jane?”
She nodded as her mother guided her away after a polite thank you. “Can’t wait to see you the next time you’re in Vancouver, Mr Rozanov,” she said in parting.
Ilya couldn’t help but smile, feeling lighter than he had in days. “I can’t wait to see you, too, Jane!”
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he unlocked it to see a reply from Shane.
* I miss you. I love you. Facetime? *
Ilya hit the FaceTime button faster than lightning. Shane’s sleepy face and sleepy smile appeared on the screen, and Ilya was filled with so much love that he thought he wouldn’t have been able to draw another breath if he hadn’t seen Shane’s face.
“Hey,” said Shane.
“Hey,” Ilya breathed back.
He discarded the cigarette in his pocket in the dustbin by the railing as he started walking back to the hotel, and said, “You wouldn’t believe what just happened, moya lyubov…”
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I know deep in my soul Shane is such a fucking enabler, especially after he joins the Centaurs.
He's finally getting to be with his husband, the man he's loved for over a decade, and he, by all means, does not care about the bullshit he says cause as long as it's not getting Ilya in any kind of trouble, Ilya's chirps, while incredibly fucking stupid most of the time, are funny, and always only as offensive as the person deserves them to be. He knows Ilya would never mention anything about their private lives, cause really their time together is as sacred to him as it is to Shane. He has literally no reason to worry about anything.
And sure, people come up to him with the "did you HEAR about what your husband said to me" in the beginning, but these complaints all but stop in only a couple months once people realise that Shane does literally nothing about what Ilya said other than honest to god giggle, and smile fondly at his husband antics
Shane doesn't want kids. He's never said so in so many words, but Ilya's read between the lines. He remembers Shane's interview after Pike asked him to be his daughter's godfather. How the interviewer had asked if he hoped to have kids of his own one day. How Shane had gone a little blank and guarded the way he does whenever he's asked a difficult question. How he'd come back with a perfect media-trained answer ("Not sure. Right now, my responsibility is making sure the cup comes back to Montreal. That's my baby.") How every similar question after that was met with a similar answer, until eventually reporters learned to stop asking.
So Ilya knows that Shane doesn't want kids. And that's fine. Ilya thinks he does want them, but not so badly that he couldn't live without them if Shane didn't want them. Their family is already perfect, just the two of them. And Ilya gets to help look after Pike's kids sometimes, and he adores those kids, so that's good enough.
That's why Ilya is completely blindsided one day when Shane turns to him after settling all the Pike kids down for their afternoon nap, and says, "Do you think our kids would be this easy to settle if we ever had them?"
And Ilya's so shocked that his brain has to buffer for a moment. He's just staring at Shane, whose cheeks are now flushing with colour. Ilya can't figure out where to start with this conversation, and the longer he's taking to reply the more awkward Shane is getting, until eventually his eyes drop to his hands. "I mean, uh, nevermind. Forget I said anything. I just thought... nevermind."
This snaps Ilya out of it. "Where is this coming from? I thought you didn't want kids?"
And Shane has a little confused frown on his face. "I've always wanted kids. I thought you might not want kids. You always get a little weird when anyone brings it up in conversation. I can't ever get a good read on what you want."
And this is truly not how Ilya thought this conversation was going to go if they ever had it.
"But what about all those interviews where you avoid the question? All that 'the cup is my only baby' stuff...?"
"That's because it's a stupid fucking question and none of their business," Shane laughs. "And also because it's not something I thought I'd ever be able to have. Not when I couldn't imagine ever being happy with a woman. Not when I thought I'd never be with someone I actually wanted to build a life with. But with you? Yeah. Yeah one day when hockey is done, Ilya Rozanov, I'd really like to have kids with you. But only if you want it to."
And Ilya smiles Tampa-bar bright, and swoops in to kiss Shane all giddy and messy, following it up with at least a dozen more peppered all over his face.
"Of course I want to have babies with you. They would be the most beautiful babies in the world," he says. And then he looks around the living room. "How mad do you think Hayden would be if we made our first one right now?"
He's waggling his eyebrows, and Shane laughs and shoves him.
"Fuck off, asshole," he says, leaning in to kiss him again. Before pulling away, lips still brushing Ilya's, Shane mutters, "When we get home, I'll let you try to make as many as you want."
