WhenTheFloodsRollBack



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    Ilya hums in agreement, ghosting his hands down Shane’s sides. He looks like he's thinking about something, which can only be bad news for Shane. He's quiet for a moment longer as he traces gentle patterns over Shane's exposed skin.

    “How many times did you sleep with her?” Ilya asks, his eyes dark as he stares down at Shane.

     

    Or, Ilya edges Shane.

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    26 Feb 2026

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    The replay of the high sticking penalty is shown to the crowd, which screams and boos Rozanov. He can’t do that. He shouldn’t fucking be able to do that.

    But even Shane’s body reminds him, as it tips ever-forward into the breakthrough heat that he has unfortunately come to expect every game against Boston: there are different rules for Ilya Rozanov.

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    26 Feb 2026

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    "Whose dick was Hollander gonna fuck her with anyway?” O'Connell says.

    “What’d you mean?” the other guy asks.

    “Asian dick, man.” O’Connell pinches his forefinger and thumb together. “No fucking chance that thing is big enough.”

    Is plenty big, Ilya nearly says, before catching the tip of his tongue between his teeth.

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    22 Feb 2026

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    “Holy shit, dude,” Hayden whispers, too loudly, as he pulls Shane away. “No way you were just talking to Ilya Rozanov.”

    “Uh, yeah. We just met. Wait, did he lie to me?” Shane asks, looking back over his shoulder where Ilya is now standing next to a short but very muscular woman with long black hair. “What does he play?”

    Hayden stops, so Shane does too.

    “You don’t know who that was?” 

    Shane makes a face that says ‘no shit’, and waits for an answer. 

    “Dude. You are so innocent. Ilya Rozanov, ‘Russia’s Greatest Love Machine’?” Hayden says, like it’s obvious. 

    Shane looks at him blankly, and then Hayden laughs. Not like, a chuckle. He full on cackles, bending over like he can’t even contain it. “Man, he’s like prolific.”

    “At what?” Shane snaps, because he’s getting really sick of not being in on the joke. 

    “He’s a porn star, man.” 

    “A-” Shane says, swallowing thickly. “What?” 

    ---

    Ilya is a porn star, Shane is a hockey player, and their paths cross.

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    21 Feb 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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    21 Feb 2026