Tremololo



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Sasuke and Naruto's first time going all the way. Set during Blank Period, I imagine in their 20's. Cue a lot of inner turmoil and feelings on Sasuke's end, like, a lot.

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    08 Oct 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Sex with Ilya is the opposite of hockey, which is what Shane loves about it, somehow. In hockey, everything is bright, cold, sharp, precise: the click-shush of his skates; the ice-tap of hockey sticks; the clean swish of the net. But then with Ilya. He melts into the warm blur of Ilya’s voice, Ilya’s fingers, Ilya’s dick in him. Ilya tells him he’s good. Under Ilya’s hands he’s the closest to nothing, the closest to perfect that he can ever be.

    Ilya has one more year on his Boston contract. Shane has never been in a real relationship. The only way they know how to resolve conflict is sex. It will probably be fine.

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    05 Oct 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Shane's mouth is hot and wet against Ilya’s throat, as Ilya catches sight of the Metros spilling into their VIP section, the Friday evening after their first week of Montreal’s hockey camp, his teeth a dull, warm pressure, one hand curled across the nape of his neck, his fingers sunk into Ilya's curls.

    Ilya, because at his heart he's an absolute bastard, smirks as soon as Pike clocks the two of them, watching a bevy of emotions spike across his face before they dissolve into something a little more resigned, a little bit hungry.

    OR: Shane gets to be a slut in public, snap at the Comeau, and get lovingly fucked out of his mind. Ilya's pretty sure it's one of the best night they've ever had.

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    27 Sep 2026

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    “Shane.” Ilya takes Shane’s head in his hands, squeezes his cheeks so that Shane looks puffy, absurd. Beloved. “I am saying that to me, even though you are retired, you will always be No. 1 hockey player. Fuck Wayne Gretzky.”

    That’s what does it, as Ilya knew it would. Shane rears back, spluttering, outraged, trying not to laugh.

    “Oh, I have committed blasphemy now. They will take back my citizenship, big crime, very sad.”

    Shane smoothes his hands along Ilya’s calves, rests his fingertips on Ilya’s ankles. “Fuck Wayne Gretzky,” he says. He looks like he can’t believe what he’s saying. Ilya wonders, distantly, if he can get it on tape to play back to himself when things feel particularly bleak. “We can live in exile together. I don’t care. You’re my, my best, my second best hockey player forever too.”

    --

    Shane decides he has to retire. Ilya, of course, will go with him.

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    25 Sep 2026

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    The only trick is to have no fear, and even less fear than that the more trouble one is in. Ilya cannot teach that to a man who has directed his energies into becoming, not like a saint, but like a painting of a saint, all dripping in symbolism: the way the robe drapes here, yes, that is on purpose, and the angle of the light, the patron’s face in the crowd, the instrument of the martyrdom in his hand and the fruit in the bowl on the table, all arranged except when—

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    23 Sep 2026