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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    The moment Ilya slips the wedding band onto Shane’s finger, it feels like the world goes quiet for the first time in his life.

    Peaceful in a way Shane has never known.

    They’re married. Husbands.

    And Shane is excited for all of the firsts that lie ahead of them as a married couple.
    --
    OR: A Bunch of "Firsts" from the First Year of Shane and Ilya's Marriage

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    14 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Rozanov’s smile was all teeth. “Ah, yes. Is gift.”

    Something tripped in Shane’s chest at the idea. Sure, they’d been hooking up for nearly half a decade by this point, but four frantic trysts a year did not a relationship make. Certainly not a relationship which included gifts.

    “Oh. I mean– thank you.” The sincerity felt strange on his tongue, but Yuna and David Hollander raised Shane with goddamn manners, and if somebody gave you a gift you said fucking thank you.

    Even if that someone was Ilya Rozanov. Even if he was looking at you with a Cheshire Cat smile that made you think you’d seriously missed an important piece of context.


    Or: Five times Ilya and Shane got each other gifts that absolutely, categorically, 100% didn't mean anything, and one time they gave up pretending.

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    07 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    He should just forget about Rozanov. Forget about Rozanov coming all over his own stomach as Shane watched, transfixed; forget about Rozanov’s hand curving possessively around Shane’s jaw to pull him in for a kiss. Forget about the dizzying, red-hot bolt of shame and anticipation and fear and arousal that had shot through him when Rozanov stroked two fingers down between his ass cheeks and pressed there—a question, an offer. A promise.

    (In which Shane responds to Ilya’s texts between 2011 and 2013.)
     



    “Stop saying dick pic,” Shane hissed. “This is harassment.” He glared at the bulge in his pants. “You are harassing me.”

    “I do not know what this word means.”

    “How fucking convenient for you.”

    “Aw, Hollander,” Rozanov said, but he sounded a little contrite. After a beat, he asked, “Do you want me to stop?”

    “Don’t you dare stop,” Shane said through clenched teeth, surreptitiously palming himself to take the edge off. It didn’t help.

    “So do you want my dick or not?” Rozanov asked after another beat.

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    03 Jun 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya is tired of being called stupid. Tired of reporters blinking at him like he’s buffering. Tired of social media deciding that an accent equals ignorance. So he decides to fix it.

    Shane lets it be a joke — until he hears Ilya sanding down the edges of himself under bright arena lights. He doesn’t interrupt interviews. Until he does.

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    02 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Rozanov is looking at him intensely, mouth pursed in a smirk, eyes alight. “You eat dinner?”

    “What?”

    “Dinner,” Rozanov says, “Is meal you eat in evening. You have it?”

    “You’re asking me if I eat dinner?”

    Rozanov tilts his head. “My English is not so bad, I think.”

    “No, it isn’t,” Shane says, although he’s still confused by Rozanov’s question. After a beat, where all he can focus on is Rozanov’s thick eyebrows, Shane confirms: “Yes, of course I eat dinner.”

    “Good. Me too.” Rozanov is still smirking. Shane’s starting to think it might be his default expression. “We have that in common: playing hockey and eating dinner.”

    Or: five times Ilya Rozanov tried to ask out Shane Hollander, and the one time he succeeded.

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    31 May 2026