Vasquez



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    “Ilya,” he breathes into Shane's open, slightly panting mouth. Shane jostles their position, pointing his thumb at his own chest in an exaggerated manner.

    “Shane,” he replies. Quietly, like it's a request, not a statement. Ilya's eyes gentle, and he kisses Shane's nose.

    “Shane.”

    Or: another "Shane stays post-tuna melt scene" fic.

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    14 Jun 2026

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    "We are actually so fucking washed," Shane bitches. "I'm never getting better and you are stuck on a losing team that sucks. Everyone is going to forget about us."

    "Don't make me trip you," Ilya says, calmly. "Let's do another lap."

    "No," Shane barks. Ilya raises his eyebrows.

    Shane refuses to accept this. This perpetual cycle of suck. When he invited Ilya to his cottage almost four years ago now, he didn't expect their relationship to turn into their fucking burial ground.

    Shane finds himself grounded in Ottawa for the foreseeable future. With his newfound free time, he hangs out with his family, eats Costco Rotisserie chicken, and whips Ilya Rozanov back into a champion.

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    14 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    A place for my half-baked Hollanov NSFW. It was inevitable folks. This is NSFW fanart.

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    14 Jun 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    13 Jun 2026

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    “Some useless gossip site posted a story about Rozanov,” Hayden finally explained, turning to him. “A tell-all interview with one of his latest conquests. It was a bit… well… sensational.”

    “...Sensational?” Shane repeated, dumbly. Was that his voice? Did he sound like that?

    Hayden grimaced, but JJ heroically stepped in.

    “She said his dick is so big she cried,” he said, simply, as if he had not just upended Shane’s entire life with a total of nine words. “And not cried in the fun way.”

    In the fun way.

    Oh dear.

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    11 Jun 2026