junebug2213



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    It seemed to Ilya like they invented a silly little holiday for every week of the year. Holiday for disguising children and sending them to bully neighbors for sweets. Holiday for pranks. Holiday to buy cheap shit at stores the day after after another holiday of eating dry bird. Holidays that seem mostly about getting black-out drunk.

    There are too fucking many.

    Ilya assumes Shane doesn't care about Valentine's Day. Rookie mistake.

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    21 Jun 2026

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    Shane wanted to respect Ilya’s request for space. Shane wanted to get the fuck out of here. Shane couldn’t breathe.

    Couldn’t move at all. He was frozen - from his lungs to his feet. Everything except his hands which were shaking. He should leave, but he wasn’t even sure how much longer his legs would be able to support him, and driving seemed like a bad idea in this state.

     

    What if Shane stayed after the Boxing Day fight. Basically an exploration of the age old question - what if they just, like, talked about their feelings? (And also went to Bood's party after all).

    Language:
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    20 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    “Just go.” Ilya said, already leaning again.

    Shane huffed a laugh against his mouth.

    “You’re literally the problem.”

    “Then stop kissing me back.”

    He didn’t.

     
    or, College AU where Shane and Ilya go to the same university, secretly sleep together, and are so obsessed with each other it’s starting to become a problem.

    Language:
    English
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    800
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    20 Jun 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Shane was looking down. His eyes were squeezed shut, his brow furrowed in intense, painful concentration. His lips were moving, silently shaping the words. Good. Night. Forming them slowly, carefully, in the secret space of his own mouth.

    Ilya’s breath hitched. He’d never seen this. Why would he have? Shane had never been sad around him. Never hurt. Never in this kind of quiet, defeated pain. Around Ilya, Shane had been pleasured and angry and frustrated and gloriously competitive. But never this. Never shattered.

    (or, everything is same but Shane has a slight stutter that gets bad when he's sad. Ilya has never heard it because Shane has never been sad around him. Until their night in Vegas.)

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    Language:
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    3,183
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    1/1
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    19 Jun 2026

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    The first time they’d done this, in Ilya’s bed, Shane had been mystified at Rozanov’s insistence that he not enter the nest without Shane’s permission. Now, Shane feels something akin to smugness flexing its claws in his chest. A primal satisfaction at the rightness that he is the one with the power - at present, if not for much longer - alpha just outside the nest and at his mercy.

    Like Shane will only yield for someone who has earned it. He can draw out Ilya’s suffering just a little longer, make him earn it.

    Shane rakes his gaze over the delicious chest and bicep muscles bunching above the edge of the nest. “Waiting for something, Rozanov?”

    “Are you going to let me into your nest, omega?” His pronunciation of the endearment is more Russian than English, accent thickening around the syllables.

    “Depends. You gonna give me your knot?”

    “Hm, does not sound like begging yet to me.”

    Some months after Shane recovers from rejection sickness in Ilya's bed, they share their heat/rut together at the cottage, both clinging to the delusion it's still casual.

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    English
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    18 Jun 2026