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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    I am in hell, Ilya thinks. He's awkwardly hard in his cup and layers of gear. He can't focus. How the fuck is Hollander functioning like this? Is he actually so gifted at hockey that he can play at this level and still have space to let the sex demon in his brain run rampant? Is this what he's like all the time? (Now with bonus ch 2!)

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    01 Jul 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “Just-” Ilya starts, intending to tease, the offer of a massage more about getting Hollander back in a more relaxed headspace than anything else, but then the wire-tight tension in the muscles under his fingers registers, and he frowns, pressing testingly before making a noise of disapproval. “Fuck, Hollander, you are secretly doing crime or what?”

    “What?” Hollander asks, confused, starting to lift his head before Ilya pushes it back down absently, focused now on feeling out the knots Hollander seems to be completely made of. He’s felt tension in Hollander’s shoulders before, usually during coaxing little squeezes while coaching him through learning how to deep throat, but he’s always written it off as nerves from learning something new.

    Now he wonders if Hollander is just nerves, period.

    (the "ilya massages shane" fic inspired by hudson saying that playing shane made him sore because he was so tense all the time)

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    30 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 40

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    ‘My teammates think you’re my girlfriend,’ Shane Hollander leads with a fucking bomb of an information and Lilian chokes on her coffee.

    OR

    Lilian Harris, the goalkeeper of Boston PWHL team and a newly minted PWHL champion wakes up with the worst hangover of her life. In a hotel bed in Montreal. Which she is sharing with three of her teammates and the freaking Walter Cup.
    Her phone is full of messages from Montreal Voyagers players who watched the match last night, saw the name Lilian and the word Boston, and came to the completely wrong conclusion once again.

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    30 Jun 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    ...oh,” his mom says. “Oh, honey, you were seeing someone? You never said anything.”

    “It’s-it’s complicated.” He catches the present tense too fucking late to do anything about it, and he barely resists the urge to either groan or slip forward to start beating his head against the coffee table.

    Fuck his fucking life.

    “You’re still…seeing this person?” His mom asks, and the amount of control he can hear her exerting is almost painful. “Who is-”

    “Yuna,” his dad cuts in, voice quiet, “maybe give him a second, yeah?”

    Yeah, Shane agrees in his head. Give him a second.

    Maybe give him a decade while they’re at it.

    (when shane's old fake id falls out of his wallet around his parents, he has to explain that it was to book hotel rooms before he was 21)

    (...and then he has to explain why he needed to book those hotel rooms in the first place)

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    29 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Hollander tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth. “I should have noticed. You weren’t showing it, really, during the game.”

    “Is fine,” Ilya says. “Is not so bad.”

    “Oh, no?” Hollander says. “So you’re deciding you can make it worse by playing through it and trying to fuck me through it?”

    Ilya doesn’t say what he’s thinking, which is I think I would deal with any amount of pain if I can just keep fucking you.

    ---

    Ilya is injured but tries not to show it. Shane notices anyway.

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    25 Jun 2026