littleleef



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    The want tears through him like a hurricane, entirely unconcerned with all the destruction it might leave in its wake. Right now, tomorrow doesn’t matter. Right now they don’t have to consider the consequences of this reckless night they’re about to spend together; a night where all their unspoken rules are being tossed out the window in favour of simply letting their bodies be honest.

    They can figure all this out later, but now…now Ilya needs Shane naked and writhing beneath him before he combusts.

    (Or, what happens in the hotel room in Florida.)

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    20 Jan 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “Yuna, David - my husband just said he doesn’t love me anymore.”

    “I did not say that,” Shane argues, when he notes the disbelieving expressions on his parents’ faces. “I said we can’t get another dog.”

    “Exactly,” Ilya wails, throwing his arms up in the air. “Is same thing!”

     

    (Or, 5 times Ilya calls Shane his husband, and 1 time Shane calls Ilya his husband.)

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    20 Jan 2026

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    It kind of looks like junk, at first. Just a random collection of items, like the lost property box at the arena for things the cleaners find after games. But Shane quickly realises that the collection isn’t random at all.

    No, this is a box of memories.

    Ilya’s memories of Shane.

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    20 Jan 2026

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    Shane is used to feeling fuzzy with Rozanov. Like he’s floating higher, higher, higher. But this - this isn’t that.

    Shane isn’t floating, he’s falling. Sinking down, down, down below, into darkness. It feels like there are waves crashing over his head, cold and sharp like needles against his skin, and when he does manage to breach the surface for a moment, he’s met with thick fog and a starless sky. It feels sort of like a concussion, but not. There’s no pain, just…haziness. Just a gaping, empty feeling, right in the centre of his chest.

    (Or, Vegas rewritten.)

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    20 Jan 2026

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    They lie in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the steady and slow beating of Shane’s heart on the monitor. He’s perfectly content to just bask in Ilya’s presence and form until the doctor comes back, but eventually, he can feel Ilya staring at him. So he opens his eyes and sees an expectant look on his husband’s face. 

    “What?” Shane questions.

    “Are we going to talk about it?”

    Shane’s brows draw down in confusion. “Talk about what?”

    A mischievous grin splits Ilya’s face. “That I am your emergency contact.”

    “Oh, my god,” Shane groans. “You are not going to make this a thing. It’s not a big deal.”

    __

    Or, hockey injuries are temporary. But having Ilya Rozanov as your emergency contact is forever.

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    19 Jan 2026