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Language:
English
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Published:
2026-04-11
Updated:
2026-04-22
Words:
2,425
Chapters:
4/?
Comments:
20
Kudos:
187
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62
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3,937

top button, undone, and it's okay, I'm just freaking out

Summary:

An opportunity presents itself and Ilya Rozanov takes it.

Or

Crime Boss Ilya Rozanov kidnaps Shane Hollander, his rival's heir, to get an upper-hand. Little does he know the baggage the other's carrying or the fact that Shane has no idea about the world his parents inhabit.

Notes:

FYI I never actually read many mafia AUs until this fandom started serving them up on platters left and right, and here we are! Needless to say, it's my first time writing in this genre so I hope you'll bear with me along the way.

This story was low-key inspired by Cliff Marleau pinning Shane to the desk in chapter 5 of if you drink my pain, you can swallow my pride by writer_in_theory. (In 2025, I wrote a story for a different fandom where a character was injured by slamming into a table (with an underlying condition) and apparently my muse is not done with that plot point and wanted to test it out here in au-Hollanov-land.)

I'm generally running with the idea that Ilya thought kidnapping Shane would be easy work but Shane is unlucky and whump-prone enough to make it difficult for him.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Prologue: A Rival Walks Into a Club

Chapter Text

An opportunity presents itself and Ilya Rozanov takes it. He takes it without thinking twice. 

 

Shane Hollander, son of David, heir of Yuna, unmistakable at a table in one of the Russian’s Montréal clubs, left, unattended, under the blue-purple-red flashing lights as his friends go off to smoke or top themselves up with another drink. 

 

A sitting duck.

 

Wholly unprotected.

 

He is dressed, oddly enough, in something far from club attire: a sleek white button-down Oxford with a slick black jacket, folded, even more oddly, into a neat square on the stretch of cushion beside him. Top button, undone, top three loose within the first hour, even though the boy has yet to dance and the ginger ale in his hand is alcohol free... 

 

When the boy does—dance, that is—Ilya sets it all in motion. 

 

‘When he leaves, make him stay.’ 

 

Marleau nods; he slips out of the booth and soon returns. 

 

A set of keys is easy to swipe in a club like this, a friend’s attention distracted by a flirt, an extra few shots of liquor on the house for all but the dry ginger ale make one hour seem like two.  

 

The boy's car starts running while he is standing beside it, still searching his jacket pocket for his keys, and if he senses danger, it’s only for a moment. Ilya’s men make sure of that.  

 

They are already halfway to where they’re going when Hollander’s phone starts lighting up, but a text is easy to send when your lock is a fingerprint ID. 

 

Rose: Okay but the bathroom line can’t be that long 23:47  

 

Rose: Shaaaane why aren’t you on the dance floor ??? 23:50 

 

JJ: 🤔🚹🍆  yes Shane? 23:53 

 

Hayden: ??? 23:54 

 

JJ: means Hollander is hooking up 23:54 

 

You: Got tired so I’m heading out—catch you next time! 23:59 

 

Sent from a man who is lying unconscious in the back seat of his own car. 

 

Hayden: shit, really? come on man Jackie only just got here 00:03 

 

You: Say hi from me. 00:04 

 

JJ: Hollander? you text and drive? 00:11 

 

JJ: Shane Hollander breaking the rules??? Hayden pay up 00:12 

 

JJ: I was right we are bad influence 00:14

 

JJ: 20 even venmo is okey 00:14 

 

Hayden: *typing fuck you im not—*

 

buzz buzz buzz 

 

Marleau closes the boy’s phone and picks up his own. 

 

‘It is done?’ 

 

‘Done.’ 

 

‘Good. I meet you at house, one hour.’