moonstickleaf



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    “Hi,” Ilya says, his attempt at making his voice a purr lost to how fucking happy he is, to have this, to see Shane Hollander in a way no one else ever gets to. He crosses the room and kneels over him, pulling him up into a kiss that Shane gives him easily, making a sweet, soft noise that makes Ilya want to bite him with how cute it is. Instead, he gets a handful of the edge of the soft, fuzzy blanket to whip it off of Shane and replace it with his own body-

    -only to be stopped when the blanket turns out to be far, far fucking heavier than he anticipated, pulling him up short when his attempt at a flick ends with barely moving the edge before it flops back down with audible weight.

    (ilya versus shane's weighted blanket)

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    15 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “It’s okay. I don’t need anything.” 

    “I am not going to eat in front of you while you have nothing, Hollander,” Ilya scoffs. He plucks a can of cold ginger ale from the top shelf as casually as he can manage and slides it over the island, interrupting Hollander’s fidgeting thumbs. “You must be hungry, yes? It’s been hours since you left hotel. I can make something. Easy.” 

    “Make… what?” he asks warily.  

    Ilya rolls his eyes and tosses a look over his shoulder. “Do not worry. I will find something that works for your special hockey diet,” he teases. He reaches back into the fridge. “Tuna melt okay?” 

    “No,” Hollander says primly. “And it’s a disease. Not a diet.” 

    He pulls his hands out of the cold and turns, blinks. “What?” 

    Series
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    15 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Life feels so chaotic for Shane sometimes, with all the loud noises and the unwritten rules he’s expected to follow, even though no one ever taught them to him. It’s why the bookstore feels more like home to him than anywhere else in Boston. It doesn’t ask Shane to be anything other than himself. Doesn’t ask for any more than he can give.

    He can just exist here.

    Shane likes slow, likes taking his time. And Ilya - without saying or doing anything in particular - makes Shane feel like that’s okay. Like he isn’t doing anything wrong by standing still sometimes.

    (Or, Shane works in a bookstore, Ilya plays hockey, and they both go to the same college. They fall in love in every universe.)

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    14 Jun 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya Rozanov is in love, closeted, catastrophically lonely, and apparently incapable of referring to Shane Hollander in present tense.

    The Centaurs come to a- given the circumstances- reasonable conclusion.

    Or:
    Five times the Centaurs thought Ilya Rozanov was mourning his dead wife, and the one time they discovered his wife was actually Shane Hollander.
    Shane, for the record, is alive and really confused.

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    14 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “Go?” Rozanov repeats, and Shane thinks he manages to nod, thinks he manages to spin some kind of excuse that he knows Rozanov doesn’t really buy, but he needs to go. He needs to get out of here. He needs to find somewhere quiet and calm where he can ride out this panic and painful tightness until he can catch his breath again. He needs-

    He needs to go.

    “I’m sorry,” he says, turning heel and resisting the urge to just book it right for the front door only because he’d rather not have to explain to Hayden why he returned from a hookup with Boston Lily in men’s clothes that he certainly didn’t leave in.

    It’s not until he makes it halfway up the stairs to Rozanov’s bedroom that it occurs to him in a cold rush that it isn’t just anxiety that makes it this hard to breathe.

    “No,” he tells himself firmly, white knuckling the bannister and trying to take a deep breath just to prove that he can.

    It wheezes.

    (how the tuna meltdown is averted through the power of food allergies and anaphylaxis)

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    13 Jun 2026