celestielle1



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    “Your space is nice,” Hollander whispers back, leaning in, breath warm against Ilya’s chest. “Smells like mint.”

    Ilya stops breathing.

    Hollander’s eyes are half-lidded, dazed, soft in a way Ilya has never seen. “Ilya,” he murmurs.

    And Ilya nearly chokes. The first name. His actual first name. Whispered like something intimate. Sacred. They’ve never called each other by their first name. Always Hollander. Always Rozanov. Ilya is so stunned he almost doesn’t process the next words, almost can’t translate them despite living in the States for almost four years now.

    or: ilya is spiraling about what his roomate could be doing on a random tuesday night. he's not prepared when the night takes an unexpected turn.

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    17 Feb 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Shane can’t stand his college roommate and teammate, Ilya Rozanov. Can’t stand his arrogance and his messiness and his constant sleeping around.

    But then the entire team, Shane included, welcomes their families to campus for Parents Weekend.

    And Shane also can’t stand that Ilya is alone.

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    17 Feb 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Through the haze of darkness and body heat and drunken partygoers, all Shane could see was Ilya. His eyes were fixed on Shane and Rose: the way she touched him, the way she kissed him, the way they moved together. And the look on Ilya’s face - the agony in his eyes - pierced Shane like a blade through his heart.

    It made him want to peel his skin off; made him feel ashamed for having a body that had been touched by someone other than Ilya.

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    12 Jan 2026

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    [excerpt]
    His whole body practically vibrated with how hard he held himself together as he walked out of the club and to his car. His hands shook as he drove off, but it wasn’t long before he had to pull over—the tears he’d been holding back finally breaking free.

    Fuck Ilya Rozanov. Fuck him for making him cry. He was Shane Hollander, hockey superstar. Stanley Cup winner two years in a row. And there he was, sitting alone in his car, crying over an obnoxious Russian hockey player.

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    12 Jan 2026

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  5. Public Bookmark *

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    He wanted to take it back instantly. Wanted to swallow his name down, down, down, shove it back into his heart where he’s been hiding it for - god - years. He wanted to go back in time a few seconds, to just before the moment when he ruined it all. He’d call him Hollander, instead. He’d whisper something sweet in Russian so Shane would never know - so Ilya could speak his feelings into existence without Shane hearing them.

    He’d do anything at all to fix it.

     

    (Or, Shane leaves. Then he comes back.)

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    12 Jan 2026

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