Firefly687



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    Ilya realized that he had two choices, and neither of them was very good. He could let his teammates believe he was a controlling asshole of a husband, or he could talk to them about things that Shane would probably prefer to keep to himself. He knew how private his husband was, how much time he’d spent cultivating a very particular image of himself to the world. An image of himself that only Ilya and a few other people were ever able to see behind.

    or

    Wyatt Hayes and the rest of the Ottawa Centaurs find out that Shane Hollander isn’t exactly what they’d imagined.

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    20 Mar 2026

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    It was two rings and then his thick accent and smooth voice washed over Shane like a slow molasses. “Hollander,” Rozanov sighed. “It is late. I thought you had date, no?”

    “I fucked up,” Shane whispered biting back a sob.

    Shane drops after he sleeps with someone that's not Ilya, so naturally he calls Ilya to take care of him.

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    19 Mar 2026

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    “I need to sleep,” Ilya murmurs next to him on the bed, his voice distant.

    “Yeah, me too,” Shane rushes to agree. His fingers drum against his glass of vodka and he chugs the rest in one go. “I should, uh…” He moves to stand up off the bed, the soiled towel dropping from his stomach, and his knees buckle.

    Shane stumbles but remains upright, his vision blurry. But the glass in his hands slips from his trembling fingers, and, to his absolute horror, shatters all across the floor of Ilya’s penthouse suite.

    ----

    After the hookup where Shane and Ilya didn’t kiss, Shane nearly passes out in his rival’s hotel room.

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    19 Mar 2026

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    Ilya picks up on the third ring, breathing heavily into the phone. Shane hears a door slam shut through the device. “Do not yell at me.” 

    Shane stares at the half-empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table. “You suck.”

    “I suck? I scored hat-trick! In your stupid body! I have not eaten in six hours, Hollander. I have not pissed. I have not laid down. I want to go home.” 

    “Rozanov–” 

    “Your mother has called twenty times. Your manager has called thirty times. Your father text me picture of crossword puzzle and ask for help. Clue is about American President from the 1980s. I cannot help!”

    OR: the hollanov bodyswap fic. 

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    17 Mar 2026

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    Ilya Rozanov has a "tiny car accident" (his words). Shane Hollander has a full-scale, system-shutdown panic attack about it. Meanwhile, a horrified Hayden is praying for someone to throw him in a lake and tell him that this is all just a big joke, or maybe for a meteor strike; he is really not picky. J.J., on the other hand, is trying to bleach the image of his sweet captain making out with Ilya fucking Rozanov from his brain.

    It's a very normal day for the Montreal Canadiens.

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    17 Mar 2026