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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Shane doesn’t know how to grocery shop for two. He doesn’t know how to do any of this, really. He’s keenly aware that this was the longest stretch of time he’d be spending alone with Ilya, with any one person ever, outside of his parents.

    In a way, it feels like playing house, unpacking the groceries and setting out a set of towels and washcloths for him. It is playing house. This is what it might feel like, to be able to have him all the time. The thought feels impossible to contemplate, terrifying to dwell on for longer than a minute or two at a time.

    on finally getting to know your situationship of 10 years

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    24 Aug 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    such a beautiful one shot, before the cottage shane preparing and during and after the cottage. full of love

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “Ilya, what are we gonna do?” Shane says.

    Ilya finishes whatever he has been doing on his phone, and tosses it gently to the bed beside him. He crosses the room to Shane, stands in front of him, squeezes into his shoulders with his big hands, rubbing them like he means to warm them up.

    “Looks like we will have a little vacation,” he says, with a big obnoxious grin.

     


     

    Boston and Montreal are sent to Paris to play against each other in an exhibition series in January 2017. Ilya and Shane decide to stay in Paris for one more night. Just one more night, so they can talk. Maybe finally understand each other.

    They aren't expecting a volcano to erupt in Iceland and close all the airspace in Europe, leaving them stranded there. Together.

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    13 Jul 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    life without this fic will feel like post paris. best fic i’ve ever read probably

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    “This is hard to talk about,” is all he says, though he knows it will amount to nothing.

    Shane’s fingertips are feather-soft on his chest. “You have to.”

    He has to, because Shane and Ilya have this thing, now, this agreement. Nothing is too hard to talk about. Nothing is off limits. They have to be bare, have to surrender the deepest crevice of their soul to one another. And Ilya, for whom this is easier said than done, whose chest carries a perpetual weight, an immovable mass, it’s all worth it – worth the relief smoothing over Shane’s features, the reassurance that he’s not worried anymore, that Ilya can give him this peace, albeit only a fragment of what Shane gives him by just being there when he wakes up. He would never say it, but he thinks that what he has to offer to Shane amounts to nothing – nothing compared to what Shane does, what Shane is, by simply nuzzling into his chest and sighing into his sleep, late at night when all Ilya can do is lay awake and just feel.

    “I need more,” Ilya says. “And is nothing you can do. I need you inside me, and it feels terrible.” He swallows, with great difficulty. God. “I need to– I need to eat you.”

    or, Ilya never knew love can hurt this good

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    27 Apr 2026

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    “And you’re sure there’s nothing for you?” David says suddenly. “You’re not—you’re feeling okay? You’re not sick? Shane wouldn’t have any reason to think that you’re sick?”

    Ilya blinks and turns to him. “I am fine. Totally fine. Better than fine, even, before today.”

    “It’s just—Shane’s acting like you’re dying, Ilya.”

    “Not as far as I’m aware,” says Ilya. “And I do not think he would learn this before me.”

    The summer before Ilya joins the Centaurs, Shane wakes up nervous. It doesn't stop from there.

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    17 Mar 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    more than heartwrenching and beautiful…. fuck

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya Rozanov has spent ten years circling Shane Hollander. Ten years of hotel rooms and secret phone calls. Ten years of pretending he doesn't feel it, doesn't need it, doesn't wake up reaching for someone who's already gone. Ten years convincing himself he's not good enough. That he's not worth it.

    Then a plane needs to make an emergency landing near Montreal, and Yuna Hollander is on it.

    So when Shane calls him from a bathroom floor, unable to breathe, Ilya stops pretending.

    After five hundred miles of frozen highway, three and a half hours of driving like a man possessed, a hospital waiting room full of people who have every reason to hate him, and a boy who looks at him like he's something worth keeping, Ilya may have learned a thing or two about what it means to be loved—and to let himself love freely.

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    17 Mar 2026