Missinginwonderland



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    Shane Hollander loves two things: hockey and his infuriatingly clingy husband.

    When Ilya slams into an unexpected rut on the ice, Shane’s the only one who can get him home before things turn feral.

    What starts as a very intense, very ill-timed rut turns into late-night guilt, broken pride, and an impossible wish for a family Shane will never be able to carry—
    until a specialist, an ultrasound, and a tiny heartbeat say otherwise.

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    13 Dec 2025

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Shane wears Ilya's jersey.

    Ilya's brain short-circuits.

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    08 Dec 2025

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    It wasn’t fair, because Shane didn’t even do it on purpose. His ignorance was a product of years of repression. They’ve been together for more than a decade, and they’ve fucked, fought, and everything in between — but somehow Shane was still oblivious to the warning signs of his heat. In the days before it came, Shane would pace about the house in a huff; sweat on his brow, gnawing on a candy bar, complaining about a headache, befuddled as to his own state of dysfunction.

    He always smelled like absolute fucking sin too. It took all Ilya had not to drop to Shane’s feet, mouth open, tongue at the ready, and offer his enthusiastic services. Ilya tried to do so, early on in their relationship, but Shane kicked him away like he was a nosy terrier, tsked at and scolded for its eagerness to serve.

    Finicky little omega. Ilya would die for him, truly.

    (Or, the trials and tribulations of Shane Hollander's heat cycle).

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    08 Dec 2025

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    They’re getting into a rhythm now, though, and Shane can see it. He can see this team winning the Cup this year. He tries not to get ahead of himself, tries to stay focused and go game by game, reminds himself that building up a team takes time and several seasons, but god. He wants this legacy: for himself, for Ottawa, for Ilya. For both of them and everyone else.

    Which is why, goddamnit, now is not the time to crash out over fantasies of Ilya working his whole hand down to the wrist into Shane’s ass and fucking him on his fist. And yet. Shane should know by now that timing and “good ideas” are rarely factors in whether or not he gets obsessed with something.

    OR:

    It starts, as a surprising number of things actually do, with a text from Rose.

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    07 Dec 2025

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    “He was fucking all over you,” Shane growls, fire raging at a very specific point in his chest now.

    Ilya’s amused smile is fucking diesel.

    “You jealous, Hollander?”

    Shane scoffs, which isn’t much of a helpful response. So instead, he catches Ilya by surprise and shoves him against the wall, choosing his words carefully.

    “I’m not jealous, because I know exactly who you belong to. But do you?”

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    05 Dec 2025