the2yearplan



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    And then his prayer from before the kiss was answered in the form of a soft knock.

    Shane had barely made it up five steps. He paused for a second, wondering if he had hit the metal railing somehow, leaving behind a knock-like reverberation echoing in the stairwell. He shook his head slightly, as if shaking out the thought that it could be anything else. He continued up the steps more slowly.

    Then there was a second knock, and a buzz in his sweatshirt pocket.

    There was no mistaking either of those sounds. He practically snapped his wrist yanking his phone out of his pocket.

    LILY: the car is not here, and is cold. can i keep waiting inside?

     

    OR: What if Ilya's cab in ep2 is late?

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    02 Jul 2026

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    “I was trying to be cool about it.” Shane's confession is a quiet whine, muffled into his palms. “Go with the flow, y’know?”

    It’s almost unbearable, how much Ilya adores this perfect, neurotic man. “Hollander,” he says patiently. “You have never once gone with flow. Not ever in your life.”

    There is only one grey cloud in the perfect blue sky of Ilya’s summer.

    His two weeks at the cottage are almost over, and Shane still hasn’t asked him to stay.

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    30 Jun 2026

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    Ilya widens his eyes, moves his hands in an impatient “get on with it” motion. He has the urge to say it for him, end both their misery. Shane blinks rapidly a few times, takes another deep breath. “I want to stop,” he says simply.

    Ilya lets out one humorless laugh, “Stop what?”

    Shane ignores him. “At the All Star Game, I told you I liked you. And you said about Russia and your family. And I looked some things up. I get it. I get it better now. I know we can’t but I can’t stop wanting to be…more. Unless we stop.”

    OR

    Shane just wants to be friends and Ilya is, like, fine with that or whatever

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    23 Jun 2026

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    Ilya Rozanov, a professional dom, lives in the space between. Between shifts, between countries, between versions of himself. Control is what keeps things from falling apart. Control, and distance.

    Shane Hollander lives the life that might have been his. He spends his NLH career closing distance, closing gaps, moving toward things instead of away from them.

    When a chance meeting at the animal shelter crosses their paths, something unexpected carries between them, like a call, waiting to be answered.

     

    *This work is a remix/ heavily inspired by Wolfbird (OpalApparition), including people and locations. In my mind, a “what could have happened if they met in a different way and made different choices.” It’s sweet, has (mostly/eventual) soft landings, and features many puppies who absolutely did not ask to be a part of this, and one very dramatic chiweenie who did. 

    Thank you to OpalApparition for the encouragement to write what I love.

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    22 Jun 2026

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    “Shane Hollander’s having a big gay wedding.”
    Ilya’s ball rocketed sideways into the woods with a crack like a rifle shot; somewhere in the trees, a goose honked in outrage.
    “Jesus Christ,” Tyler said.
    “Wow,” Marly said. “That was…what the fuck was that, Roz?”
    Ilya was gripping the club so hard his knuckles had gone white. “Bad swing.”
    “That wasn’t a bad swing, that was like a physics-defying swing. I didn’t know you could make a ball go in that direction. You okay?”
    “Fine.” Hollander was getting married. Getting gay married. Who the fuck was Hollander marrying? He wasn’t even… Ilya cleared his throat, shoved his biggest club back in the bag, noted distantly that his hands were shaking. “Hollander is gay?”

    OR: Ten years after the Tampa Bay All-Star Game, Ilya Rozanov crashes Shane Hollander's wedding

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    19 Jun 2026