Thequeenreturns



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    “Pretend we don't know each other?” Shane repeats, a little confused in all honesty. Wasn't therapy about talking?

    “Yes. You are meeting for the first time in this room. Introduce yourselves.”

    Shane shifts in his seat, slowly turning to Ilya. It's not all that different from the first time they'd actually met; the awkward vibes radiating off Shane are almost identical. They're just missing a snowy forecast and a cigarette.

    He decides to go a step further, standing up. It feels the right thing to do under the circumstances. Who meets for the first time sitting down? He takes a step forward, holding his hand out to Ilya. Or not Ilya. This random man he’s about to meet, who happens to look a lot like Ilya. Ilya takes the cue, standing from his own chair with a shake of his head. He takes Shane’s hand, shaking firmly.

    “I’m Shane, uh, Shane Hollander.”

    Ilya nods. “Ilya Rozanov.”

    ——————
    Or: Shane and Ilya get sent to reconciliation therapy, and of course, handle it super well.

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    11 Jan 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 46

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    Ilya Rozanov@ilyarozanov posted a story • 6h 

    [Image: Photo taken from the team's chartered plane window overlooking a view of a beautiful clouded horizon.]

    going places you cant even pronouns 😂✌️

     

    Shane’s Book Reviews @shollander_24 replied to your story:

    shollander_24

    *Pronounce

     

     

    Or how Ilya Rozanov romanced one Shane Hollander, book enthusiast, up and down the bowels of Instagram (and succeeded).

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    09 Jan 2026

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    “You tell me,” Ilya murmurs, “When I am cock buried inside, that you are learning Russian? You are not just saying this because I tell you I am homesick?”

    Shane tries to control his blushing, hand straightening the crucifix on instinct, fixing it at the base of Ilya’s throat, “I’ve been trying to, nothing impressive.”

    Ilya puts a hand under his chin, forces their gaze to meet, then pounds him hard, once, twice, three times. All of the normal friction he’s used to after so much fullness has Shane’s eyes rolling back, and Ilya pulls his chin again to kiss him while pistoning his hips roughly now.

    “Shane,” Ilya hisses as he whines, “L’ubímyj: my favorite.”

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    09 Jan 2026

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    Hayden cuts himself off at the sound of something he hears so rarely, he’s almost sure he’s imagining it. He scans the room, looking for the source, and sure enough, his eyes land on his target. 

    There, nestled in between two of his teammates on the couch, is Shane Hollander. 

    Laughing. Out loud. Audibly. 

    Like, he’s actually fucking laughing, not the fake laughs he forces out to make other people more comfortable. In fact, he’s laughing so hard, he looks like he might cry, and Hayden would be delighted by the sight of it if he weren’t so fucking concerned. Shane Hollander doesn’t laugh at parties. Shane Hollander barely laughs when he’s actually happy, and he’s never happy at parties. So what gives? 

    Or:

    Shane Hollander accidentally gets very high. That's it, that's the fic.

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    09 Jan 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 89

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    “Nine.” Her voice is flat with disbelief.
    “Rose.” He drags a hand over his face.
    Nine. Like—inches? No metric nonsense? God, I kind of wish it was metric nonsense. That can’t be right.”

    [or: that fuckin text, the aftermath]

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    06 Jan 2026