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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    During a game against the Boston Raiders, the Metros’ star center Shane Hollander sustains a concussion. Six months later, he still has no memory of his life before the injury.

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    06 Aug 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    always love an amnesia fic

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya Rozanov, thirty-seven years old and a generational hockey player, had never paid much attention to the incoming draft prospects. But nineteen year old Shane Hollander was different.

    His stats were amazing, no dispute there, but it wasn’t exactly his athletic promise that enthralled Ilya almost to the point of obsession. No, it was something else. Something that pricked under Ilya’s skin, a feeling that left Ilya wondering if Shane Hollander inspired jealousy or lit the fire of his curiosity.

    Shane Hollander was gay.

    But the worst part of this whole thing was: not only was Ilya tortured by the idea that his potential “successor” was gay and confident in his sexuality, or that he was a great fucking hockey player.

    No, the worst part was that Shane Hollander was fucking gorgeous.

    Or: Openly gay rookie Shane Hollander and sexually repressed bisexual veteran player Ilya Rozanov

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    25 Jul 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    uugghhhhh younger confident shane is sooooo yummy

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    “What did she look like?” asked Hollander.

    “She was brunette,” said Ilya. Marleau’s eyes trailed along the hard lines of his traps, past the glint of his crucifix, the swells of his pectorals, towards the trail of hair disappearing into his shorts. They landed on the thickening outline of his cock. “Pretty little thing, with freckles. Big, brown dumb eyes, begging to be made to cry.”

    Hollander’s breath hitched. Marleau realized, perhaps belatedly, that this was a game in which truth was incidental.

    In 2014, Ilya and Marleau went to Paris on a girl to celebrate the Stanley Cup win. Ten years later, on a balmy evening spent in the Hollander-Rozanov Ottawa home, Marleau reminisces and, courtesy of Shane and Ilya, re-enacts.

    It’s just a game of play pretend.

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    18 Jul 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 82

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    Less than eight weeks before their first wedding anniversary, at breakfast, Ilya told Shane that he wanted to fly into London earlier than planned.

    He was freshly showered, curls damp and water-darkened, after their morning run. Shane was already furrowing his eyebrows, finding himself revisiting departure times and flight change fees for their Business Class tickets and how to tell his mother than the meeting with Calvin Klein needed to be rescheduled, again, except:

    Ilya leaned forward, palms flat against the white granite of their kitchen island. “I want,” he said, bluntly, “to see Sasha.”

    Somehow, the “healing” process fraudulent therapists talk about includes, among other things, a vacation in London, old wounds, new tattoos, mind-altering substances, and a Berlinesque techno sex club.

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    18 Jul 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “Look at you now.” Rozanov’s knuckles graze Shane’s cheek, mock-tender. He flinches. “So fucking desperate for your captain's cock and you think no one will notice.”

    Captain Rozanov gets the star rookie on his knees.

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    18 Jul 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    AUUGHGHGHGHGJFCHG YWEEEEAAAAA