Dededede



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    Ilya refused to break his eye contact. He saw Shane’s anger, the fire behind his eyes, it was all too familiar. Shane continued talking, “I need you-” He pointed at Ilya, his hand just inches from Ilya’s face. Ilya flinched aggressively but refused to break eye contact.

    “Do it,” Ilya said through his teeth, cutting Shane off.

    Shane faltered, “What are…” his eyes scanned Ilyas face. Realization hit him like a truck. He quickly stumbled back away from his husband.

    OR
    Shane doesn't realize how Ilyas PTSD affects him and takes a fight too far

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    19 Jun 2026

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    Shane Hollander just loves to be filled up. Ilya Rozanov lives to please his man.

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    09 Jun 2026

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    “Shane knows better.

    He does.

    He knows that, realistically, his worth must come from more than just hockey.

    If nothing else, he knows that he owes it to the people who claim to love him—his mom, his dad, Hayden, Ilya, though he can still hardly fathom it some days—to believe this love stems from more than just the number of goals he’s scored or cups he’s won.

    It has to help that he’s scored a lot, though, his brain offers. He’s won a lot. At the end of the day, he’s good at hockey; he has to be.

    Because when he isn’t, what good is he?”

    *

    or, shane has been haunted for years by the compulsion to ask whether his loved ones still like him even when he’s “bad” at hockey.

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    08 Jun 2026

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    He moved to swing his legs out from under the blankets, only to feel one of them get snagged on something: Ilya’s ankle was wrapped around his own, knee pressing into Shane’s thigh. When he tried to wriggle it free, his boyfriend resisted and pulled his leg in closer. A taut arm reached out and sleepily tugged Shane back down onto the mattress. He gave in easily.

    “I thought you were asleep.” Shane whispered, tersely.

    He felt a small stab of irritation too. Once again, Ilya had gotten in the way of his workout routine and — even though he wasn’t doing it on purpose — it was hard not to be frustrated about it. Shane needed this. The only way he had been able to soothe his racing thoughts about flunking out of the NHL next season was by reminding himself of his plan to work out early in the morning. Now, his anxiety soared, but it felt like annoyance. Why didn’t Ilya understand that he needed to stay in shape? Didn’t he see how hard Shane had to work to keep up with everyone else?

    “I woke up.” Ilya’s voice was husky with sleep, “Come back to bed, moya lyubov.”

    -

    Five times Shane Hollander should've asked for help.

    And one time he actually did.

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    08 Jun 2026

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    "You hand me card like I am some kept thing and expect me to behave?”

    Shane smiled, slow and knowing. “I expected you to do exactly what you did.”

    Ilya glared, blood boiling under the surface. “Next time,” he growled, voice low and threatening, “do not test me before giving your card."

    Shane’s grin turned wicked. “Next time,” he said, “I’ll bring you a higher limit."

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    04 Jun 2026