multi-fandom but mostly audio fiction (tma, midnight burger, tpp, amelia project, tsv), arcane, whatever else strikes my fancy. header by @arcanegifs. I follow as casthewise.
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tampa "you have new clothes to show off" suddenly activated a part of my hindbrain and now i DO want a fic post-outing where ilya occasionally picks out a very nice outfit for shane & puts it on him -- carefully leaving the top two buttons of his shirt undone, gently clasping the watch onto his wrist, etc etc -- and takes him to a bar and now shane's job is go be visible and beautiful and available while ilya nurses a drink, and then when ilya's ready he'll go find shane at the bar & put a hand on the fabric taut over his thigh and say "can i buy you a drink" into his ear
shane might say yes; he might say no. one time ilya orders a tequila shot for himself, makes shane spread his thumb & forefinger and shakes the salt onto the back of his hand so he can lick it right back off, salt-shot-lemon squeezed between his teeth, and shane gets so glassy-eyed ilya has to dig his thumb into the bruise hiding on shane's bicep and drag him out to the car. one time ilya puts him in linen, well-tailored, nearly white, and gropes him beneath the bar until there's an unmistakable stain at the crotch he has to untuck his shirt to hide. one time shane lets ilya buy him glass after glass of the house wine and when his lips are dark like he's been biting them he leans over and says, "i have a boyfriend," like a secret, and ilya gets hard so fast he stops being able to hear the music for a full five seconds.
every time when they come home ilya makes shane stand still, slides the pants slowly off the hips, peels the underwear off with his teeth, painstakingly undoes each shirt button while asking, "did you like your clothes, did you like showing off for me," and every time shane says "yes" and "thank you" and, if ilya's very lucky, "did i do good, did you like it," and then ilya has to kiss him and fold him onto the couch right there so he can say yes in all the languages he knows, his shane, stripped bare of everything, still murmuring into ilya's mouth "yours, yours, yours"
At Toba aquarium in Japan, after closing time, some clever little otter pups help their grandpa tidy up their toys. As a reward, he gives them ice cubes
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[Medicine and the law of gender binarism portray the process of transsexuality as a narrow and dangerous path, a definitive, irreversible mutation, that can be achieved only in extreme conditions, such that few people, as few as possible, would be able to follow that path. I, however, would say that the path is easier and more pleasant than most of the experiences and experiments that the dominant discourse suggests are desirable and obligatory and which have been legitimized by medical and judicial institutions. In itself, gender transition is easier to accomplish than going to school every day at the same time throughout the long years of childhood and adolescence, easier than a faithful monogamous marriage, easier than pregnancy and childbirth, easier than starting a family, easier than finding a rewarding full-time job, easier than being happy in a consumer society, easier than growing old and being shut away in a retirement home. I would go so far as to say that, contrary to what is routinely claimed, the mutation process that accompanies gender transitioning is one of the most beautiful and joyous things that I have ever done in my life. All the things that are terrible and terrifying about transsexuality and gender transitioning are not found in the process of transition itself, but in the way in which the boundaries between the sexes punish and threaten to kill anyone who dares cross them. It is not gender transitioning that is horrifying and dangerous, but the regime of sexual difference.]
wait all this talk about a hypothetical Scott and Kip divorce got me thinking…
Imagine Scott’s at an all star game, drunk off his ass at the bar. Shane walks in and leans on the bar and Scott notices that Shane’s not wearing his wedding ring. Shane always wears his ring off the ice, there have been fucking articles about how Ilya wears his on a chain and Shane doesn’t
Scott audibly sighs and Shane looks over at him. Scott’s too drunk not to say, “Fuck, sorry, I’m just so glad I’m not alone. When did it happen? It was the fucking media, right? That was part of it for us. All this pressure to be perfect. Who can live up to that?”
Shane’s like, “Uh. What?”
Scott’s like, “Sorry. Probably still fresh, huh? It is for me. I’m just glad I won’t be the only gay divorcé in the league. Hey maybe we could time our announcements so they come out at the same time? Soften the blow for each other? Or, no, that could get political fast” Scott keeps drunkenly rambling on
Shane’s just standing there, panicked, trying to figure out the best way to break the news that the only reason he’s not wearing his wedding ring is because it really breaks his immersion in their roleplay that he’s a random slut Ilya’s picking up at the bar
Thinking about Shane Hollander today, who canonically puts on a rugby game just to watch hot sweaty guys run around.
So Ilya is taking part in a charity baseball game, Shane is sitting it out for plot reasons. Ilya is in those skin tight pants, with knee high socks, and his shirt is unbuttoned far lower than regulation. Shane is watching from the stands, baseball hat on his lap to cover his growing hard on. He has his phone out and is about to text Ilya to keep the uniform on after the game, when Ilya strikes out swinging on pitches that were thrown specifically to be easy for anyone to hit. Ok that’s fine, Ilya’s never played baseball maybe he just needs time to warm up. But as the game goes on it becomes painfully clear that he SUCKS at baseball. Shane is able to move the hat back onto his head in the second inning. By the forth inning, when Ilya slipped and fell running to catch a routine pop up, Shane is starting to worry he may never get hard again.
When Ilya Rozanov makes Shane Hollander come three times in a row he crows obnoxiously about scoring a hat trick and it would annoy Shane a lot more if he hadn't just come three times in a row send tweet
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first post for context / see the tag 'open relationship au' for more snippets or the masterlist so kindly put together by @tafkarfanfic. we're nearing the end now! just two parts left.
July 2015
Under normal circumstances, returning to Russia feels like treading water.
Ilya keeps himself busy. He trains, he cares for his father, and on the weekends he drinks and parties and fucks his way through Moscow's best nightclubs. It's all just enough to keep him afloat.
But these aren't normal circumstances. Right now, Ilya feels like he's drowning.
He ruined everything in Vegas. Approaching Shane the way he did, pushing his feelings onto him and demanding he break up with his boyfriend. Ilya doesn't know what the right words would have been in that scenario but he does know that he picked exactly the wrong ones.
And still, he didn't appreciate at the time how badly the night went until the radio silence from Shane that followed. The night before his flight to Moscow, Ilya caved and sent a text. Shane read it almost immediately but he hasn't replied.
Ilya understands rejection when he sees it.
Worse than his own broken heart is knowing that Shane is suffering, too. Ilya doesn't know how Brian convinced Shane to stay with him but he sure as fuck knows he didn't do it by becoming a better person. Men like him don't change.
So Ilya failed. He failed himself and he failed Shane, and all he can do about it now is drown his sorrows.
Sveta helps. She follows him from club to club, drinks with him so he doesn't have to do it alone. She hits the dance floor when he insists he's fine, really, go have fun, but she's always there to drag his ass home at the end of the night.
"You'll figure it out," she tells him in the backseat of a taxi one night, her hand soft on top of his.
She doesn't even know what happened. Ilya would rather die than tell her how badly he fucked up. "I won't."
"You will," Sveta says with absolute confidence. "As soon as you're done feeling sorry for yourself."
Ilya wants to tell her it's not himself he feels most sorry for.
His hangover the next morning is thankfully mild. The emotional hangover - he's pretty sure he shed a few tears while hugging Sveta goodnight, how pathetic - is much worse.
Still, Ilya keeps the blinds drawn and the lights low as he goes through his morning routine. He eats is breakfast in a distracted daze, mind running through memories of last night (he didn't cry in front of the taxi driver, too, did he?). It takes him a few moments to notice that his phone is ringing.
He glances down and nearly drops it in surprise.
Shane is calling.
Ilya has the phone by his ear before he can even stop to think.
"Hi," Shane says again. His voice is tinny and far away and Ilya misses him so much it aches. "I, um. Sorry. I know we don't really call but it's been a weird night."
Ilya does a quick calculation in his head. "It is still night for you, Hollander."
"I guess so, yeah." Shane laughs. "I just got home, and I realized it would be morning for you and I just - I wanted to talk to you."
Ilya's heart is pounding. This has to be a good sign, right? Shane wouldn't call in the middle of the night just to tell him he never wants to see him again.
Shane clears his throat. "I wanted to apologize, first of all. About Vegas. And about not responding to your text."
Ilya is shaking his head before he realizes that Shane can't see him. "Don't. I should be apologizing. I didn't mean to push you like that."
There's a long silence.
Then, "I'm glad you did. What you said... I needed to hear it."
Ilya doesn't know how to interpret that, can't read Shane over the phone like this.
"I thought about it after you left," Shane continues. "What I really want. If I'm happy. I don't think I've done that in... fuck, maybe ever. Not since I decided I wanted to be a professional hockey player."
Ilya laughs, because God. That is so Shane.
"I think - I think we could be happy. Together." Shane's voice is quiet but steady. Ilya's hand curls, itching with the need to touch him. "I want us to try, at least."
"I want that, too," Ilya says thickly.
Shane lets out a shuddering breath. "Fuck. Okay. Good, that's - good."
"So you and Brian - ?"
"I tried breaking it off," Shane says, and Ilya is flooded with relief for a moment before his brain snags on the word 'tried'. "Last week. I invited him over to end it. I was so sure that I didn't want to be together anymore, I don't know how I let him change my mind." He laughs, a bitter sound. "Bad habit, I guess. I don't know, I had a whole speech prepared. It threw me off when he showed up with a black eye."
Ilya winces. "Ah. I'm sorry about that."
He's not, really, but it feels like the thing to say.
"Sorry about what?"
"About... punching him?"
"Ah." He hears Shane exhaling slowly. "That's not - he told me something else."
This surprises Ilya. He would have figured Brian would relish in the opportunity to make him look like a violent thug.
"He tried to punch me first," Ilya offers.
"Of course he did," Shane mutters. "That's - I'm getting off topic."
"Sorry," Ilya says, more sincerely this time.
"I met someone tonight," Shane says, and Ilya's heart seizes before he continues, "Rose. She kind of... talked sense into me. I didn't realize how bad things have been with Brian until she laid it all out."
Ilya is glad for it but also, "I told you he was an asshole many years ago."
"Can't imagine why I might have thought you'd have an ulterior motive," Shane says dryly.
This is fair.
"But you will break up with him now," Ilya says, not quite as confidently as he'd like.
"I want to," Shane says. His voice has gone tight. "I'm just scared."
Ilya feels cold. "He would hurt you?"
"I'd kick his ass if he tried." It calms Ilya's heart, how quickly and certainly Shane says it. "But I don't trust my own judgment, I guess. I don't think he could change my mind again, but I didn't think he could the first time, either."
"I'll come with you."
The offer has left Ilya's lips before he can think twice. But he means it, truly.
"You'll come with me?" Shane repeats, baffled. "To break up with my boyfriend?"
Right. Maybe this is a strange suggestion. "Or I will be close by. For moral support."
"But you're in Russia."
"I will be back in..." Ilya hesitates, calculating the shortest possible amount of time it would take him to put all his affairs in order, "four days."
"Really?"
"Really," Ilya says. He will have to look up flights as soon as he hangs up. "If this is alright?"
"Are you sure? You must have other plans."
Ilya waves his hand. "Nothing that can't wait."
"If you're sure," Shane says. His voice is shaking, a little bit.
Another closely guarded take of mine is that I think Hollanov actually did do the whole lovemaking thing before the cottage.
Not often. Maybe only a couple of times. Maybe only once.
Some brutal fucking game where Shane cracked his fucking head on the ice hard enough that Ilya swore he felt it through the ice. The visor on his fucking helmet snapped off. His ears rang and his head swam but he didn't lose consciousness, his eyes were dilating fine. The trainers kept him back for half a period but eventually had to let him back out on the ice because someone complaining that much and talking that lucidly was probably alright. And he is, he is actually alright, but by the time the adrenalin of the game is gone and by the time he's done self-flagellating for the fact that, after all of that shit, Boston won by one point--by the time that's done, he's tired. His head aches. And this is the last time he gets to see Ilya, maybe, before playoffs ramp up and they don't speak for awhile. So of course he still goes to Ilya's place and of course he lets Ilya kiss him hard in the doorway, though he can't help the slight Ah, ah that comes out of his mouth when Ilya does his normal thing and fists a hand in his hair.
"Oh, oh, your head." Ilya says this far too gently and far too sweetly, like one might to an animal or child. Because Ilya is a little like the Big Bad Wolf and at times speaks with a voice not his own. Sometimes he opens his mouth but what comes out isn't his normal voice, deep and sexy and sometimes crude. At times he speaks with a different voice enirely--soft, higher. Call it loving, if it wasn't Ilya fucking Rozanov.
(This is because Ilya Rozanov is a loverboy at heart, always has been. Shane doesn't know this yet.)
"It's fine," Shane mutters, already searching for Ilya's mouth again. "Come on. Come on."
And Ilya obliges him, slots their mouths back together and slots his hands behind Shane's thighs to lift, and Shane loves that. He always does. He would never ever tell Rozanov, but he fucking loves submitting to him in that way--giving over his entire body as something to be picked up, moved around. This instrument of his that he keeps so finely tuned, and when he's with Ilya it doesn't belong to him anymore. It feels so fucking good, every time.
It feels especially good tonight, when all he's heard for hours is Fuck Hollander that one was bad. Careful with that head man we're gonna need it. That one was nasty, you sure you're good. Gotta be careful man.
Ilya says absolutely none of this. Ilya hauls him to the bedroom and tilts onto the bed, landing on it widthwise with Shane under him. He kisses Shane's stomach and hips as he takes off his pants for him and then he rests his chin in Shane's bush as he smiles and says, "You have headache, hm? I see you squint."
"A little. It's fine."
"You know what's good for headache?" Ilya kisses him twice, once in the hip, once on the stomach, low enough that Shane feels the suction of the kiss at the base of his dick.
"What?" Shane whispers, arms over his head and knees dropped onto the bedspread.
"Orgasm," Ilya says simply. "Releases chemicals, makes you feel good. I'll make you feel good, okay? See if that headache goes away."
And Ilya, as always, makes him feel good. But only after he puts a pillow behind Shane's head and a pillow under his hips and asks him if he's comfortable. And Shane would roll his eyes and accuse him of patronizing him, making fun of him for taking the hit, if there wasn't something different in Rozanov's eyes tonight. He kneels between Shane's legs and looks down at him, hands massaging Shane's thighs, and he looks unbearably handsome. Shane tells him so.
"Are you gonna fuck me?" Shane murmurs, when the staring and the touching has gone on for a very long time.
"Mm-hm. Yes." Ilya kisses his belly again, presses his forehead there. Says something that might be So beautiful or Pretty boy or even My baby. Shane decides it's not for his ears and doesn't listen, and then makes himself forget he ever heard it.
Ilya fucks him for absolute ages and says things like Feel good? Nice for you? Nice full feeling in your tummy? How is your head, baby, feel better? And Shane doesn't know why it doesn't feel condescending, why it feels so fucking good to let Ilya handle him this way when they normally snarl and bite at each other after games like the one tonight and like it that way. He doesn't know why this version of Ilya's control over him feels so right and fucking special.
Shane comes twice. Once with Ilya's hand around his cock, hand fisted in Ilya's perfect hair, Ilya grunting into his neck, the beautiful sensation of Ilya's thick cock twitching inside him, ideal in almost every way. Once a little later, in Ilya's mouth after he'd come and tied off the condom and got back in bed and kissed his way slowly down Shane's body from his shoulder to his hip. A gentle, soundless orgasm that Ilya swallowed down without comment before he rested his cheek on Shane's hip and dozed for a little while.
Shane taps his chin because it's getting late and he's going to miss curfew.
"I will pay your fine," Ilya mutters next to Shane's balls.
"Bad idea," Shane mumbles. There's a beat of silence, and then he says, "We probably shouldn't...do it like that again."
Ilya, after a moment, only nods.
It's the closest they come to talking about it. The way that it gets just a bit too real sometimes. The way that they let it keep happening, each of them making eye contact with it and then plucking their own eyes out just to forget its shape.
At the door, Ilya says, "Your head feels better, yes?"
And Shane says, "Yeah, you took good care of me."
And Ilya puffs up, proud of himself, then kisses the side of Shane's head while Shane resists the urge to say Fuck, Rozanov, what did I just say, because he wants it. Goddamn it, he fucking wants it and he's tired of denying himself.
So he lets himself be held for just another minute, because someday he won't have this choice anymore.
Harris: You're impossibly fast, and strong. Your skin is pale white and ice cold. Sometimes you speak like— like you're from a different time. You never eat or drink anything except what’s on your meal plan. You don't go out in the sunlight. I know what you are.
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hmm kind of want a childhood toxic best friends au where they're in love with each other and completely clueless about their own feelings and ilya keeps "stealing" girls shane says he's interested in by sleeping with them first.
and when shane finally does get a girlfriend when they're like eighteen, ilya seduces and fucks her. he thinks about shane the entire time and is absolutely furious with himself about it. he casually tells shane about it like a week later because as angry as he is at himself for doing something so terrible, he's equally angry at shane for making him feel this way and it makes him want to be cruel.
shane confronts his girlfriend about it and as she's tearfully apologizing to him, all he can think about is how jealous is of her. and he kind of wants to ask her what it felt like, getting fucked by ilya, and of course he hates himself so much for it that when she asks him to forgive her and take her back he says yes, just to punish all three of them.
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