Bratva means brothers/brotherhood, and is a common name for the Russian mafia
This AU was born when I made this silly post. A lot of people liked it and had fun with it, which is really cool!
I now have an ongoing tag for the AU so anyone interested can explore further (or block the tag, I’m not judging if this isn’t your thing)
Aside from the original post, this is not a full fic (…not yet)
The plot
Ilya is the newly minted pakhan, or leader, or a Montreal-based bratva family following the death of his family and execution/exile of his older brother
Shane is an officer with the RCMP, Canada’s national police force. He is assigned to go undercover and infiltrate the Rozanov family, with the goal of gathering key information and hopefully destabilizing the family while it’s already fragile from the sudden leadership shift
Shane ends up falling in love with Ilya and marrying him. Ilya does not know Shane’s true identity during this time
Shane is forcibly extracted after a few years in the family. He “dies” in a car fire, is forced into hiding and assigned a job as a beat cop in a rural town
Four years after his “death,” Ilya finds Shane and brings him back home
What's next?
I may eventually write a full fic with this, but right now it’s just a brain worm and a bit of sandbox fun.
If you have questions or ideas, I welcome any and all in my inbox and DMs to add to this AU
Disclaimers!
I feel like it goes without saying, but this AU is not meant to be a real life reflection of the realities of organized crime or police work. I don’t condone actual violence or crime. Also, more importantly, ACAB.
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shane and ilya travelling on a plane sitting beside each other for the first time ever and ilya places a blanket over shane’s lap and shane thinks he’s being sweet until a hand starts groping his thighs and now it makes sense why ilya set out these shorts for shane to wear today. cue ilya edging shane on the entire flight, gently trailing his fingers over his cock until it’s leaking and making a wet spot shane is going to have a hard time hiding, bringing him to the edge over and over and over while shane tries his best not to cry or make a noise or cum. until they’re finally landing and ilya wipes his hand on the skin of shane’s thighs and his shorts and tells shane to make himself ‘decent’ before the have to leave
Shane has a ball gag in his mouth, Ilya is pounding into him from behind. Shane's face is pressed into the sheets, his own spit dripping down his chin as he's recovering from his orgasm. He's waiting for Ilya pull out, let him suck him off or something, but Ilya just keeps poundinginto him and it's too much but not enough. Instinctively, Shane tries to move away, but Ilya just grips his hips, so hard he'll probably leave bruises. Shane shudders at the thought of that, his cock twitching beneath him. "Where do you think you're going?" "Too much." Shane tries around the ball gag, but all that comes out is a mumbled mess. "Mhm, to bad I can't hear you." Shane can basically hear the smile on Ilya's face. "Did you say harder?" He slaps Shane's ass, smoothing over it with his hand seconds later. Shane just moans, arching his ass despite of himself. "So greedy," Ilya says as he starts jerking Shane's cock (already hard and wet again). "Be a good boy now," he cums with a loud moan and Ilya's dick inside of him. He's exactly where he wants to be
one must imagine shane in a bathroom stall in the metros locker room right before a game against boston, headphones in watching the video ilya just sent of himself jerking off in the bathroom in the guest locker room along with a message that just says good luck tonight :)
ilya has shane on all fours and takes a break from pounding him so hard the bedframe is shaking to breathe for a bit. running his hand up shane's sweaty spine as his hips move in little circles, recuperating. but shane is moving too now, pressing his palm flat to the headboard and looking over his shoulder, saying "let me make you feel good, baby" and thrusting himself back onto ilya's cock. ilya's breath leaves him in a big whoosh — "fuuuuck, lyubimyy" — and he looks down to watch. shane's pert perfect ass swallowing him up and releasing him, smacking against his hipbones at the end of every stroke. the muscles shifting in shane's back and shoulders as he moves, his head hanging between his shoulderblades and the veins in the hand he has braced against the headboard standing out as he uses it for leverage. at some point ilya takes his hands off shane's body so their only point of contact is where shane is taking him, makes shane moan desperately when he calls him his good little fleshlight. it's very, very good. ilya doesn't hold off for long. he hunches over shane's back as he comes, fingers digging into shane's hipbones, and shane moans with him as he dutifully works him through it. later ilya feels shane shimmy a little on his dick, his sort of happy dance at the sensation of ilya's cum in him, and ilya nuzzles into the back of shane's neck. "got what you wanted, moy lyubimyy?" and shane hums yes, small blissful smile across his lips. until ilya gets his hand around shane's momentarily forgotten erection and shane shouts into the pillow.
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my drunk shane hc is that he is soooo clingy and horny and constantly touching ilya, whispering (at least he thinks he whispers, he doesn't) all the things he wants ilya to do to him, hand always under whatever ilya is wearing cus shane just wants skin contact, sometimes (read: most times) his hand wanders into ilyas pants which is when ilya will take him home. and look ilya is horny. he is turned on and so ready to do all the things shane whispered to him. but lo and behold, as soon as theyre in a car shane falls asleep. lights out immediately. and nothing is waking him up, so ilya has to carry him.
“hollzy not coming?” wyatt asks when ilya finally approaches and ilya answers “oh, no. you know how my shane is when it’s practice day he sometimes overworks himself, my little hockey obsessed boy” he explained and the guys nodded in agreement and one of the rookies says “aw man i wanted to talk to hollander”. shane is actually passed out in the bed after being edged for hours by his husband cus shane checked ilya a little too hard in the practice and they exchanged stares and ilya mouthed “you’re paying for that later”
times ilya rozanov was so lost in the sauce that he ascended to a higher plane: in (mostly) chronological order from hook-up era to marriage
the first time shane rode him during the hook-up era. when shane was still hollander, still nothing more than a torturous daydream, something he could have for small, greedy moments before having to let go of again. and he's still in denial about it all at this point, unwilling to put a name to that echoey, achey feeling in his chest that blooms when hollander leaves their bed and puts his carefully constructed mask back in place. Shane Hollander--the captain, the teenage phenom, the golden boy, the pride and joy of Canada--replacing the boy ilya had just had under his fingertips, in his mouth, beneath his body. anyway. it's a heady thing, for ilya, to have this side of hollander. to have hollander sat on top of him, holding ilya down with his wrists pinned above his head, hips moving slow and confident and maybe a little mean as he pants and grins and teases "you okay there rozanov?" and ilya just nods. he's totally okay, he's not seeing god or nirvana or angels or whatever the fuck. it's just hollander, bent over him, pretty face full of open wanting, a flush high on his cheeks, his mouth bitten red and slack around sweet sweet little 'unh unh unh' sounds every time he rolls his hips just right. and ilya just lays beneath him and grasps at his hips as he bounces and grinds in his lap. when he comes it makes him dizzy, his heart pounding in his throat, warmth tingling down his chest to his toes. it takes him a moment, too lost in the sauce to notice that hollander is still hard but then ilya is quickly rolling them over and swallowing him down the second he realises. later, he showers and thinks of how to get hollander on top of him--bouncing and grinding and rolling those strong hips, flexing those thick thighs, ass jiggling--again.
obviously, the most profound moment of ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov is at the cottage. post-iloveyous, post-shanewakesilyaupinthemiddleofthenighttoplanthenextdecadeoftheirlivestogether. it's that moment when they're tangled up together in the soft sunlight, rain pitter-pattering on the wide glass windows, shane looking back at ilya so sweetly asking "this is real right" with his big, strong hand gripping at ilya's curls. and i think we can all agree that moment is the first moment they don't use condoms so ilya is trying to answer--to give shane the verbal confirmation he needs--but his entire body is buzzing with sensation at how warm, tight, soft, close shane feels like this. his mind is just drowning in loud tingling pleasure, his body also. all of him honed in on shane, shane, shane. he couldn't think of anything else if he tried. all he can do is nuzzle his nose into shane's pit, smear kisses over his ribs, lap helplessly at shane's nipple, and watch shane beneath him. watch his pretty face as his freckles bunch up, as his big brown eyes water with pleasure, as his cheeks get ruddy and his brows pinch then relax as his beautiful boy sinks into the sensation. and when they're both done, ilya stays tight to shane's back, just stroking up and down the thick muscle of his lover's thigh, kissing at his ribs, enjoying the afterglow. enjoying it the way he's wanted to for so long, with nothing between them and no need to wash away his longing by showering as fast as possible.
maybe not that first summer but after a year or two ilya manages to convince shane to smoke a blunt with him. and shane is terrible at it; he complains that the smoke burns his lungs and he coughs violently and chokes on each inhale, barely taking any in. so, of course, ilya takes over. presses his mouth, damp and hot and full of smoke, to shane's and pushes his tongue past shane's lips. and that's how shane gets high, breathing in the smoke ilya traps behind his teeth. they smoke out on the dock, at sunset. shane says he feels nothing and ilya just hums, says "sure, hollander" and pokes shane's flushed cheeks, laughs at shane's wide pupils, lounges back against the wooden dock with a wicked quirk to his smart mouth. and he feels it. in his limbs, that heavy warm floaty buzzy feeling that makes him kinda feel like sleeping and kinda feel like bursting into a fit of childish giggles. it takes about ten minutes for shane's body to loosen, for him to turn to ilya with heavy, hazy eyes and then crawl over top of ilya, pushing him down into the dock to kiss him all sloppy and demanding and hot. and ilya's had sex high before, made out high before, but suddenly his heart is frantic. shane is heavy in his lap, shirtless and drenched in orange-gold light, freckles stark over his cheeks and shoulders. he's beautiful, his brown eyes turned amber in the sunset, his pouty mouth swollen and dragging heated kiss after heated kiss from ilya's lips. and ilya's heart is pounding, so fucking loud in his ears, he can feel the hectic thumping of it in his throat, in his chest, banging on his ribcage. actually, he's so violently turned on and the adrenaline is pumping so fast he feels sick and he wrenches away with a gasp and feels lightheaded and has to hold off shane who is pouting and whining for more kisses. all the blood in ilya's body has travelled to his dick and all that's left in his brain is a druggy haze of lust and cotton. this is the first time ilya rozanov ever freaks the fuck out on weed -- because his high brain got so turned on he nearly forgot to breathe between kisses. he has to lie flat on the dock breathing in through his mouth and out his nose for twenty minutes before he can get up and go inside.
i think their wedding night they are too drunk and delirious with joy to manage anything more than a sloppy, messy, grinding makeout in bed after everyone leaves. they're both coming in their pants and showering afterwards together and kissing some more and then falling asleep in a heap of tangled limbs. their honeymoon, however, is full of ridiculous, ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov sex moments. the most notable being after a night out at some club. shane had been just so fucking sweet and hot and joyful all night. dark hair styled nicely, big arms on display in the tight little sheer black t-shirt ilya buys him to wear out to the club, his fingers tucked into ilya's waistband most of the night, just a little possessive and a little clingy. but ilya just has such a nice night. he does shots with a drag queen and meets fun, attractive, queer people. he dances in public with his husband under pulsing neon lights and kisses shane in the corner underneath the speakers throbbing ear-splitting club music. he feels a little trashy and a lot young and infinitely in love with his husband who mostly just bobs his head awkwardly to the music and holds ilya's hand with a besotted look on his handsome face. and when they get in the uber back to the hotel at 4 in the morning shane doesn't even flinch when ilya plasters himself to his side, kisses all over his neck, gropes his chest in the backseat. and when they're finally in the hotel room and stripped naked there's glitter on shane's skin from brushing up against the other bodies on the dancefloor and he's sweaty and he smells a little musky and a little like alcohol and ilya just loves him. loves his husband for coming out with him to a club and indulging everything ilya wanted all night even if he was nervous. loves his husband for the way he'd just had eyes for ilya all night, not even noticing anyone else looking at him, dark eyes never straying from ilya. and they go into the bathroom to shower the night off their bodies but ilya gets distracted looking at shane in the mirror, looking at him standing there all naked and glorious in the soft yellow light, and he can't help but drop to his knees behind shane and pry apart his asscheeks and bury himself there, tongue lapping, pressing, smearing, sliding over shane's hole. and he sucks kisses into the skin, pushes his tongue in, drools over his own chin as he presses his face in deeper. eats shane out for so long that his neck cramps and his knees hurt but he's entirely lost in it. moaning and groaning and whimpering when shane pushes his hips back, when shane reaches back to grab his hair and hold him closer, when shane curses and pleads and whines for more. ilya isn't even thinking of fucking shane--he is enjoying this too much. at some point he started jerking himself off tho and he comes like that, tongue buried in his husband, moaning loudly and dripping saliva down his chin.
ilya has been injured for a week, on IR, out of commission. he's miserable about it. not just because of the hockey--not just bc he is captain and feels like a sack of shit for abandoning his team, to which shane had said "baby, it sucks but it's good it happened now and not later in the season. you'll be back on the ice in time to make sure we still make it to the playoffs"--but also because his injury has prevented him from doing much with his husband. shane has been on a roadie and ilya has been with yuna and david, being dotted on, which is a bit overkill -- it's just a sprained groin not even a severe sprain, the doctor had said it was only grade two and he'd been fine in a few weeks. but before that he hadn't been allowed to do much either -- nothing at all in the bedroom -- and he is miserable. when shane gets back he picks ilya up from his parent's place and anya too and they all go home to their quiet ottawa place. anya runs off to her favourite corner of the yard to reacquaint herself with her favourite pile of dirt in the bushes and shane fusses over ilya on the couch. ilya is NOT sulking at all, not at all bitching and whining like a child. he's just saying that he doesn't need all this fuss hollander, it's fine, please just come here and let me blow you at least. and shane--who is currently been bumped from A to C--is trying to be responsible and telling his husband "no, you will not go on your knees and strain your groin further just to suck me off" and ilya groans and says "okay, i will lie flat and you can sit on my face, do all the work yourself" and, well, shane's dick is a little interested in that. but no, he shakes his head. so ilya pulls out the big guns, he pouts, flutters his thick lashes, looks up at shane with his eyes all pleading and says "i miss you" and shane groans, rubs a hand over his face and stomps away. ilya thinks his tactic has failed but then shane is coming back, dropping lube onto the couch then climbing behind ilya, dragging ilya back to lean his back against shane's chest. and ilya is confused by this turn of events but says nothing as shane kisses at his throat, runs a featherlight touch up and down the ladder of his ribs, the other hand massaging ilya's thick thigh muscle, careful of where ilya's muscle tore. and shane does this for ages, just kissing at ilya's neck, biting at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder, scratching blunt nails over ilya's sides and rubbing his thumb over ilya's nipple. ilya is hard as fuck and wants to squirm away but shane holds him tighter and sucks a bruise into the soft skin behind his ear. eventually he's pushing down ilya's pants and briefs and slicking his hand with lube and slowly, torturously, meanly, stroking ilya's cock in lazy drags. his palm and fingers applying the faintest amount of pressure, dragging over ilya's cock lazily, like he has all the time in the world. and ilya can't fucking do anything about it. shane has one leg clamped over ilya's knee to keep him from moving and has his other hand wrapped firm around ilya's hip. he keeps kissing wet and messy and biting at ilya's throat. keeps stroking just on this side of too little. he maybe spends half an hour like that, nosing at ilya's jawline, murmuring softly to him saying "baby, baby, shh, just like this" and ilya is going fuzzy at the edges. forgetting all about being annoyed abt being on IR, forgetting all about feeling lazy and useless. "let me take care of you, you do so much, work so hard," shane sighs "just enjoy it" and ilya, strangely, does. the world's slowest, lightest, sweetest handjob reducing him to a puddle of goo melted between shane's thighs. when ilya eventually comes it's with a soft whimper and then shane is cleaning up his tummy and kissing his forehead and making him a nice meal and getting him an icepack for his groin.
their first wedding anniversary is probably the most profound moment of ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov. it's the anniversary of their pikelet wedding -- during the season and not a public date that their team, friends, or the wider hockey world is aware of. it's just a date for them. the day ruby and jade married them with children's plastic rings in stupid costumes. ilya doesn't really tell shane in the lead up to it that he has a plan -- and he doesn't know that shane has one either -- so they're both going to practice on the day and acting coy when asked abt their plans for the evening. (they both made dinner reservations at the same spot where they had their first date post telling Crowell to fuck himself). and so they get home after practice and shane says -- before ilya gets a chance -- "i booked us a dinner for tonight, since it's our anniversary" and ilya is briefly overcome by joy, elation, absolute ridiculous gooey sappy emotion before he says, outloud "fuck!" and shane is blinking like ??? and ilya says "nothing, lyubimy, nothing" and then "i am excited" even though internally he is like fuckfuckfuckmyplans but then they park outside the resturant and he bursts into laughter and shane is again like ??? and ilya explains through hysterical bursts of laughter that he booked the same place and when they get inside they ask to see which table each reservation had assigned to it then pick the best one -- shane's table because he remembered the exact table they sat at that first time. and they eat a beautiful dinner together, without any nonsense from paps or fans, ankles tangled under the table, smiling stupidly at each other over the massive chicken parmesan ilya ordered. and when they get home they kiss all the way from the front door to the bedroom, hands wandering all over, careful, tender touches. and we all know ilya "loverboy" rozanov loves to make love to his husband missionary so shane is on his back with his legs around ilya's hips and his ankles hooked around the small of ilya's back and their fingers are tangled above shane's head on the mattress and their foreheads are pressed together as they breathe into each other's mouths just moving slow slow slow. and ilya gets lost in it. the slow rhythm of their bodies, the wet drag of their mouths, the press of shane's slick tongue, their noses rubbing, their foreheads touching, lips smudging and panting together. it's probably a good half hour of just slow rocking, quiet moans, soft sighs, until ilya picks up the pace, presses in harder, and sends them both over the edge. and ilya fades out for a bit, laying on top of shane's chest, ear pressed to shane's heart, listening to its steady pulse. shane's arms around him, caressing and rubbing his spine. and maybe he rolls shane onto his side and slides back into him and fucks him again twenty minutes later, fingers locked around shane's hip, pulling him tighter, burying growls and whimpers in shane's neck, nipping at his earlobe. he starts crying at some point, but shane is too, though he thinks shane's tears are from pleasure. ilya is just happy and sad all in one confusing tumble. both so joyful he got this and so scared that there had been a moment where he might not have gotten it. and he comes again, rutting deep into his husband's body, clutching him close, wiping his tears away by dragging his cheeks over the wings of shane's shoulder blades. and after, shane rolls over, grabs either side of his face, kisses him all over, forehead and brows and eyelids and mouth and nose and cheeks and chin, and murmurs "love you so much, husband" and ilya garbles something back along that same sentiment and bites at shane's chin. he wants to eat him, devour him whole, swallow him. it's ashame they can't be one being. but this closeness will do.
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Arthur Pike is 9 years old when he really gets into his bugs and insects phase. And it's cute at first, Jackie buys him lots of picture books with bugs that they read together and Hayden is happy enough to trade the usual tiger time time at the zoo for more time where Arthur stares at the various big and small bugs crawling around behind the glass walls.
It's not until Jackie's cousin, in a well meaning gesture to support Athur, gifts him a tarantula. Which, well. He buys him the appropriate terrarium and hands Hayden a stack of pamphlets on how to take care of a tarrantula. Which is all well and good except for the fact that there is now a fucking enormous tarrantula in their home.
Arthur squeals with joy. Jackie and Hayden less so. Next to them on the couch, Ilya pulls his feet back from where they almost touched the newly unwrapped terrarium.
But it's fine. Hayden loves his son and wants him to be happy (although he did high-five Jackie after she pulled her Cousin to the side to tell him in a kind but very firm way to never ever gift them an animal again without consulting them). So, it's good. It's fine. Toby the Tarrantula happily lives withe the Pike family while Hayden manages to not completely freak out whenever goes into his son's bedroom. It's fine. It's good.
It very quickly turns very bad though on a sunny Saturday evening. The evening had started out well enough, with Shane and Ilya coming over for dinner while Jackie was out for dinner with her old college friends. There was a slight hitch when Hayden realised that he had promised the girls pancakes for dinner without checking the fridge. But even that problem was quickly resolved with Shane simply grabbing his car keys and announcing that "I'll get them, i'll be back in 10 minutes".
No, the very bad part started just after Shane had left the driveway, when Hayden bumped into the tarrarium which was currently staying in the living room while they got Arthur's bedroom painted. The thankfully still intact but unfortunately very empty terrarium.
"Rozanov, I'm gonna ask this once and you better be honest", Hayden said, focing himself to stay calm while his eyes were still locked on what should be Toby's home. "Did you take the fucking Spider out to fuck with me?"
Ilya just gave him an unimpressed stare. "It's a tarantula, Pike", he said drily. "And no, I did not take it out of the terrarium. Why?"
Hayden swallowed. Fuck.
"Pike? What-"
"It's empty."
Hayden finally turned to look at Ilya. Ilya took over with staring at the terrarium in horror.
Shit.
Shane finds both of them huddled together on kitchen stairs when he gets back 15 Minutes later with a carton of eggs and some blueberries in hand.
"Are you guys okay?"
Hayden and Ilya both do a horrible impression of acting casual.
"Of course we are, Solnyshko", Ilya assures him, casually leaning against one of the kitchen cabinets. If it weren't for his shaking hands and the way he kept glancing at the terrarium every two seconds, he'd almost pull it of.
"Yeah man, all good", Hayden adds in a voice that sounds only slightly panicked.
"If you say so", Shane says, unconvinced. "Why are you both standing on chairs?"
Hayden and Ilya look at each other. Look at Shane. Turn to look at each other again.
Ilya raises an eyebrow.
Hayden crosses his arms.
Both of them turn back to Shane.
"Easier to keep an eye on the kids that way, you know", Hayden says. Ilya nods. "Direct view to garden", he adds. Hayden nodds.
"For sure", Shane agrees easily before turning to put the eggs into the fridge to hide his smile. Even if he didn't know them as well as he did, it wouldn't be difficult to figure out that they're lying. It's also not particulary difficult to figure out why they chose to stand on top of two chairs that allow them to look at the terrarium while also being as far away as possible (and, to be fair, still keep an eye on the kids playing outside in the garden).
Of course, it's also not that difficult to remember that Jackie dropped off Toby at the Vet before heading out to meet her friends. And it's just as easy to know that Jackie will definitely want picture proof of her husband and Ilya Rozanov furiously whispering at each other while standing on top of two chairs -
"Why don't you get down and look for him"
"You crawl around the ice all the time, probably advantage for you to find him"
Okay, a Hollanov/Roselana story idea: the movie The Holiday, but it's Rose who wants to escape the craziness of Hollywood while also working on her Russian for an upcoming role by immersing herself in the language and culture, house-swapping with Ilya who plays for the KHL, but just sustained a career-ending injury and now needs to figure out the rest of his life away from his family and Russia and most of all, away from hockey.
It's an impulsive decision and they don't tell anyone that they're doing it, which is why Svetlana is surprised when she knocks on Ilya's door one day and instead finds Academy Award Winning Actress Rose Landry.
And it's why Shane is super confused when he arrives at Rose's house to spend the week with her in LA that she forgot to cancel, only to instead find the hottest man he's ever seen, shirtless. He's even more surprised when he realises that this isn't just any hot man – this is Ilya Rozanov, the cute guy from the Russian WJC team who he hasn't seen in nearly a decade since the last time they faced each other on the ice.
And omg how wonderful for Rose – Ilya's friend has offered to show her around and help her with her research. And if her stomach flutters when this gorgeous Russian woman flirts with her, well, that's just the excitement of it all. Because Rose is Not Gay. She would know if she Was Gay... right?
Meanwhile Ilya agrees to let Shane stay the night since it's so late, even though he wants Canada's god of hockey Shane Hollander and his million questions as far away from him as possible. Hockey is too painful right now. But then they end up fucking and Ilya decides that maybe there's no rush after all. Maybe Hollander can stay for the week he planned for.
can we cross reference throat goat ilya with quickshot ilya for a second? ilya slobbering on it sloppy and nasty lost in it and sooo turned on he’s seeing stars?? he’s got that vein poppin out on his forehead and his shane is on his tongue and in his throat and he’s making all those beautiful sounds and ilya is grasping at any inch of skin his hand can reach. shane moaning and whining and panting, rubbing his foot on ilya’s cock and then ilya just… bustin it in his pants… and the entire thing happens in 2 mins 37 seconds
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Shane's hole is sore after prostate orgasm #3. He still wants Ilya to finish inside him. Just one of those days where he needs to feel full of his man. But his hole is so ouchy... So Ilya enters him with just the tip (he can stand that much as long as Ilya doesn't fuck into him any further) and proceeds to jack off into Shane's hole. It's so weird and hot and Shane's panting "please, please, please, god-fuck PLEASE give it to me baby I need it so bad," and three strokes, four strokes, five— he's shooting forcefully into Shane, doubled over in delirium.
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