Chapter Text
Things got better after that. Less scary. Less intense. Less taxing. For both of them.
The first thing that Ilya did after making sure his girl was okay and all cried out was get on the phone with the doctor. He paid a lot of money to make sure she was reachable at almost all hours, and he was happy to see it pay off when Dr. Ward picked up on the second ring.
He told her exactly what had happened. Not the sexual bits- even though he wasn’t one to hide- but the bits where his babygirl just seemed so broken. He told her exactly what Shane told him, what she needed, and the doctor was able to get him a prescription for some meds to be ready that very day.
There were perks to being rich. There were also perks to not taking no for an answer. One day, he hoped Shane would see those qualities in Ilya, recognize that not many people had them, nor were they willing to share them for the benefit of someone else, and grow to appreciate him for it.
One medication for her morning sickness, and a medication- if she felt she needed it still- to help with her sleep. All of it approved for the baby.
Shane was a bit sensitive that day, not doing much or showing much more than a tired little frown. But when Ilya returned from the front door with a delivery of the meds for her, she listened to what they were. And by the end of it, hearing the promise in his voice along with it all, she gave a smile. Because she’d communicated what she wanted fixed, and he actually went out of his way to do it for her.
She couldn’t tell if he cared about her. Most of the time, he told himself that even questioning it was insane. But considering that Ilya didn’t have to help him with this, but still went out of his way to? It made her wonder a bit more than she let herself before.
Happy wife, happy life, right? But was that selfish, or selfless? She was too tired to even tell right then, opting to take one of those sleeping pills and get an early night's rest instead.
That night she slept great, and with the addition of the anti-nausea meds, she felt great too.
Another week went by, and while Shane was always scared it’d come back, it seemed that things were gone. Not just out of her system, but off her shoulders. He felt more alive. More like himself. More like he could be okay again, even with everything else that still stood true.
She tried to make things as normal as possible during all of it. She didn’t imagine he’d take the meds back if she was bad, but she was still a little shaky on what a punishment was and wasn’t, let alone when she deserved one or not. She tended to just assume the worst, but that made her paranoid, and she hated that too.
She spent the week trying to be alright. Not necessarily good, but definitely not bad. She didn’t do enough to constitute being good, she supposed. She did her normal days while Ilya did his normal days, and they met up in the middle for things like meals and, of course, sex.
The sex was, as always, the best part. It was like he knew more about what turned her on every time they fucked, and he chose to push that limit until she was dying for it.
He didn’t hold back giving her what she deserved. All the touches, all the kisses, and all the orgasms she could want. All by his hand (or dick), and all with the idea that he wanted to see her want it. Want to see her lose herself with him, hopefully until she loses who she is without him completely.
And Shane, ever since she’d spilled her guts on things, decided that the only thing worse than telling him what she wanted to engage in was not engaging at all. She was vocal and reactive, and he also found her to be giving, not just receiving. She’d given him a hand job one morning, shocking but delighting Ilya. Because what was in it for her but submission and making Ilya feel good? Wasn’t she supposed to not care? Ilya smirked at the memory each time it came up, like a sign of what was to come. So hot too.
So while Shane was trying to toe the line between being good and not being bad, Ilya was delighted by how she was. Did he want more? Of course. But this was a marathon, not a sprint.
They could do things at her pace.
As long as they got there in the end. And yes, Ilya was sure they would. As long as he was in charge.
So while Shane still had moments in the day she was looking for an escape, or times before she fell asleep that she dreamed of her old life, Ilya was doing his best to move things further and further from that.
Today, he had a specific plan he was very excited about, in fact. One he couldn’t wait to share with Shane.
“Shayna?” He called for his wife as he walked through the downstairs of their large home, unsure where in the place she was. “Shane?”
“In here!” Shane called back, not even thinking about whether or not she wanted to be found.
When he walked into the kitchen, he couldn’t help but smile for a whole new reason. Not because of what's in his hand. Not because of what he knew was coming soon. But because he had his wife in his home, with her pregnant belly, standing at his stove. And it was quite the sight to see.
The sun casted in perfectly, and Shane didn’t even turn around from what she was doing, but it didn’t matter. Just meant he also got a great look at her juicy ass. Was it possible that as growing too? Or was he just really horny and biased?
“What are you doing, моя малышка?” He asked as he stepped up behind her slowly.
“Cooking.”
Her answer was so curt and so simple. But it was also so telling. She was being a good wife, right now, right here where she stood. Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, in the literal form, and doing it of her own accord? It was so nice to see.
“What are you cooking?” He asked, stepping directly behind her, peering at the stove top to see a pot full of broth.
“Just some soup,” She said, picking up some salt and sprinkling it into the pot before she picked up a spoon and tasted it.
“Smells good,” He told her, moving his arms around her and pressing his face into the crown of her head. He inhaled there too, smelling her shampoo. “You smell good, too.”
“Thanks…” It was a bit distracted, but not as bitter as he imagined it could be.
She had been through a lot, and even a week later, she was healing. Besides, pregnancy was always growing. Her past was always looming. For all he knew, this was some kind of family recipe that only made her heart yearn more for a time away from him.
He couldn’t have that, though.
He needed to secure himself even more than he already had. If that was really possible.
“I brought you something,” He told her, refusing to let go of her, even as she continued to work on her soup.
“Is it something to go with this soup?” She asked, finally looking over her shoulder a little, curious enough to see what he had to offer.
When she turned around, he pulled away from her. Not because he ever got tired of holding her, but because he needed to show her what he’d brought. Specially delivered from the courthouse to their home that very afternoon.
“Is that…. mail?” She asked, her tone unreadable.
“Sort of.”
“Is it a letter?” Shane asked, almost hopeful now.
She hadn’t heard from her family in so long, let alone her team or her friends. Was it so much to want one measly letter? One she could read over and over again, anytime she was homesick? One she could put up on her vanity like one big reminder of what really mattered- far more than orgasms and playing house with her rival.
Ilya gave her a sympathetic frown, even though the idea was kind of stupid. She wasn’t thinking with her brain, but with her heart. Otherwise, she’d realize nobody knows where they are.
“No,” He told her. “But, it is better!”
Shane gave a small, sad smile, like she didn’t believe it. But she still held her hands out to look over whatever it was.
When she looked down at the envelope, she noticed it was stamped pretty officially. Her perfectly shaped brows furrowed in curiosity, aware of how giddy Ilya was next to her. She tore it open and looked at the papers, but she was still confused.
“What is this?” She asked him.
Ilya smiled. She was so cute, especially when she was a little dumb. He wouldn’t tell her that, though, not until she could accept it was a good thing to be told by him.
“Papers.”
Shane scoffed, jutting a leg out and placing her free hand on her hip, as if she was insulted by the obvious answer. “Yeah, what kind of papers?”
“They are to change your name, officially.” Ilya smiled, waiting for a reaction.
Shane’s face shifted, looking like she wanted to say something, but then quickly shut it. She then proceeded to turn around and turn off the burner before her soup started to boil. It should be done by now, and she wasn’t ruining it over this… this… nonsense.
“You want to change my name?” She gawked at him.
“Yes.”
“What’s wrong with Shane?” Shane asked. “That’s what you always call me!”
Ilya realized the confusion. “No, no, sweetheart, Shane is fine. Shane is perfect!”
“When, why do you want me to change it?” She frowned, making Ilya feel a little bad that she was so confused. Silly Shane, if only she just trusted him more than she worried.
“I don’t want to change it,” He explained. “I want to change your last name!”
Shane registered it and then relaxed a little bit. Something the old Shane wouldn’t have found to be better than the other, but equally bad. Shane had grown a lot and knew a lot better now, though.
She should have seen it coming. She was his wife. She was Mrs. Ilya Rozanov. Why wouldn’t she be her own form of it, too? Shane Rozanov. It sounded wrong…
“You want me to be Shane Rozanov?”
“No.”
She was even more confused. Was this just a game to him?
“I want you to be Shane Rozanova,” He quickly explained after.
“Rozanova?” Shane asked. “That’s not your name.”
“No, is not,” He told her. “You see, in Russia, our last names are gendered. Rozanov for strong man like me, and Rozanova for sweet girl like you.”
And while she’d never heard of it, she was a quick learner. It made sense that it could be. Other countries gendered all sorts of stuff. The French she knew was keen on that too. And if they could gender a croissant, she supposed a name wasn’t too far-fetched.
But whether it made sense or not, it was… a lot.
Her mouth hung open, like she couldn’t believe it, when she should have known by now it was very much on brand for his type of crazy.
“So let me get this straight,” She said, pausing for just a second to compose herself. “It’s not enough that you’ve made everything else about me feminine, now you need to give me a girl’s last name?!”
Did she blow up a bit? Yeah. But this was a pretty big deal. This man, this sick, sick man just wouldn’t be happy until she was his own goddmaned Barbie, would he?
It wasn’t just that it was a girl's last name, either, although that was a lot of it. But it was the feminine version of his last name. Like they were some sort of family. Ha, Shane wanted to laugh in his face. It wouldn’t matter how well he fucked, how long he kept her here, or how many babies he put in her belly; they weren’t some sort of familial team, and they never would be!
“Calm down, Shane,” He sighed, not wanting to deal with a huge thing right now. He was only asking for one little thing.
“No!” She said back. “Why should I calm down?!”
“Because you are my good girl.”
“Bullshit,” Shane scoffed out. “I’m just trying to play it safe until I can get out of here!”
Maybe she shouldn’t admit she still wants to do that, but oh fucking well. She didn’t wanna sign those papers! She didn’t! It felt like giving up too much.
Ilya sighed, not wanting to be mean, but knowing he would get what he wanted one way or another.
“Shane, you have two choices,” He told her calmly. “You can sign this, and we can forget you ever tried to throw a tantrum, enjoy your soup for dinner, have nice night, all those things… or you can throw a fit, watch me forge your signature anyway, and spend the night tied up to the bed thinking about how bad you’re being right now for me, your husband, who only wants the best for you.”
“But-”
“We could always make it two nights… or better yet, could always chain you somewhere else.”
Shane was stuck. Between a battle she wanted to fight, and a punishment she didn’t want to face. And yeah, maybe if she thought she could win, she’d continue to fight, but she couldn’t, so she had nothing left to play except the good wife.
Shane’s face didn’t change from her distaste, even as she gave in, though. She held her hand out. “I need a pen….”
Ilya smiled. “There’s my good girl.”
Ilya quickly went into the one junk drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a pen he’d gotten from his bank for her. He went back over to her, placing it in her hand, and ruffled her hair for good measure.
It was meant to be affectionate.
To Shane, it just felt like the kind of praise you’d give a dog. And yeah, that usually scared her. But right now, it just made her annoyed. Like she needs to be grateful to not be treated like one again.
She clicked the pen, and on the counter of the kitchen, found the line she needed to sign to make it happen. There really was no choice, but she took a second for herself to enjoy the moment before it was official.
She signed it, and Ilya was happy. It was always with the goal to make Ilya happy in mind, for her protection, not from the kindness of her heart.
Ilya disappeared after that, saying that he was going to get things ready to be sent back and made official. Shane was left with her soup, happy to see it was still hot when she went to dish it into a bowl for herself. There was more for Ilya, but she wasn’t going to hand it to him right now. She wasn’t strong enough.
She stayed there, drinking in her soup, trying to convince herself it was just a paper. Just a name. Nothing that mattered where it counted- in his heart.
But as he looked down at the soup his dad taught him how to make, he thought not of what the new name meant, but what the old one did. It was family to her. Family she missed.
And just like she was forced to give up her family to be Ilya’s, she was being forced to give up her family’s name to hold Ilya’s. And yeah…. It might ‘just be a piece of paper’ or ‘just be a name,’ but at the end of the day, it really, truly, sucked.