3lla_moon



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    The coffee table was covered in evidence, two plates with the remains of the tuna melts, an empty can of ginger ale left behind like a murder weapon. Yes, this was a crime scene. He would alert the authorities.

    Wanted: Shane Hollander.

    So fucking wanted.

    --

    Or: After running away from Ilya's, Shane realizes his mistake and comes back.

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    16 Apr 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “You’re beautiful,” Ilya whispers into the sunlit room, trying to preserve the moment just a little longer.

    The corners of Shane’s mouth quirk up, failing to hide his pleased smile, maybe he’s not even trying. Ilya lets his straining arm drop down, reaching for Shane’s face. He has to tilt his head awkwardly to avoid the sun from blinding him again.

    He ghosts his fingertips across the freckles under Shane’s eye, back and forth, before slowly making his way onto the bridge of his nose. He slides his pointer finger down the slope and taps lightly against his nose, watching the way it scrunches up, freckles trying to go into hiding.

    Everything about him is so beautiful it has something aching in Ilya’s chest.

    He drops his finger further down into the dip of his cupid’s bow, gently pressing the pad into his lip. He traces the shape, top and bottom, and then dances his fingers along the seam. Shane’s lips part slightly around a soft exhale.

    Or: 5 times Ilya gets to worship Shane’s freckles and one time he has to reassure him

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    16 Apr 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Once outside, he leaned forward and put his hand against the cold stone wall. His phone was still to his ear, the message still recording. 

    “Ilya. Please. Please. I can’t do this. I don’t know what to do. Please. You can’t be dead.” His voice broke on the word. “I love you. I love you so much. More than anything. I need to hear your voice. I need you to…I need you…I need you…fuck. Please Ilya, please.” 

    Shane took the phone away from his ear and held it between both hands as though he were praying. He realized he was on the floor and didn’t know how he got there. He was crying. He was fairly certain he was hyperventilating. 

    His brain was desperately trying to grab at anything. Any thread of logic. Any idea of what to do next. 

    I have to see him. 

    Yes. That made sense. Shane needed to get to Tampa. Now. He would go there. He would find Ilya. Ilya would be fine. They would be together. He would see him. Tell him how much he loved him. He had to go. He had to go now. 

    ***

    OR: What if Ilya lost his phone during the emergency landing, Shane couldn't reach him, he panicked, and chartered a plane to Tampa to find him instead...

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    16 Mar 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    ...I guess I should just say it. I was wondering if you'd—”

    “I think we should stop seeing each other.”

    “—like to come to my cottage this summer.”

    The plate slips from Shane's hand and shatters on the kitchen floor.

    Or: Shane doesn't get injured that night Montreal plays Boston. Ilya follows through on his plan to break things off with him. Well, he tries, at least.

    Language:
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    16 Mar 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Shane and Ilya’s daughters imitate Ilya’s accent when they’re trying to get out of trouble with Shane. They keep getting away with it, unbeknownst to Ilya, until their little brother tries it on their Papa.

    Language:
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    15 Mar 2026