NotTheQueen



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  2. Summary

    All fics are inspired by specific lyrics in songs.

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    Finally, something dawns on him, a way to handle two goals simultaneously. He’d seen Hollander’s mother flipping through papers rapidly when they first got here, seeming calm and in control and more than a little frightening in a way that made Ilya mildly glad he wasn’t one of the people responsible for a clipboard. If anyone can tell him if the long list of “Prohibited Items” he’d been sent in his email a few days ago is just standard practice for big shoots, it would be Yuna Hollander.

    Or, hopefully, her son.

    “Crazy we cannot even have peanut butter, eh?” He asks. “You also got giant list?”

    Hollander stiffens, almost imperceptibly, and Ilya tilts his head, just slightly, confused, wondering if he’s stumbled somewhere unexpected.

    (how ilya learns about shane's allergies) (and shane's sexual awakening tragically hits a speedbump in the process 😔)

    (chapters can standalone but will be updated as inspiration strikes)

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    14 Jul 2026

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    "He saw the corners of Ilya's lips curve up ever so slightly in that infuriating, tiny hint of a smile. “Goodbye, Shane Hollander.”

    Shane could only ogle as Ilya walked away. Fuck. His ass was fat. This was so bad.

    Shane Hollander, star athlete, D1 hockey team captain, campus heartthrob, was being completely undone by a brooding Slavic art major that he would probably crawl on his fucking knees and bark for."

    --

    Shane is ready for another boring semester where he has to pretend like he cares about anything other than hockey. Until he sits down next to a mysterious Russian art student who also happens to be the hottest guy Shane has ever seen.

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    14 Jul 2026

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    "Oh." Hollander has gone a little red, beneath his freckles. "I am from… French Canada? Québec? Do you know? Very… very small town there, no English, only French. I try to learn, but— is a bit hard."

    Ilya feels mildly stupid. He knew, obviously, that they speak French in Canada, but he didn’t know it was, like— some people’s only language. He’d sort of assumed everyone was fluent in both.

    "Huh. Cool."

    "Your English is very good," Hollander offers.

    Ilya laughs.

    "I mean, yeah— I grew up in Minneapolis."

    -

    aka. the one where the language barrier is reversed. it changes everything.

    Language:
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    14 Jul 2026

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    "He said it was just a stronger edible," Wyatt says. "Apparently it was supposed to be super natural, and relaxing and rejuvenating, not the weak Canadian shit, and—"

    "You say a bad word, Hazy," Ilya interrupts, pointing a tiny finger at him.

    "Right." Wyatt winces. "Sorry, kid."

    Rejuvenating. Shane turns the word over in his mind a few times, while readjusting Ilya’s little body in his arms.

    Jesus fucking Christ.

    -

    or, with the help of some mysterious russian candy and a very loving husband, ilya rozanov heals his inner child.

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    14 Jul 2026

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    "Rozy," Brian, the team doctor says, "talk to me, buddy. That puck clipped you pretty good, how’s the pain?"

    Ilya blinks. He clenches his jaw against a wave of nausea. He rests his cheek on the ice, and the cold helps a little.

    "Bad. Very bad." He swallows. "Is Shane here?"

    -

    or, in the final MTL/BOS game of the year, ilya takes a puck to the head.

    Language:
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    14 Jul 2026