ineffableink
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Still, Ilya can’t help but click back into that stream of the game they’d just played against Ottawa. The streamer’s mic is just as shitty as the footage, but his voice has a soothing quality, and Ilya almost lets that lull him into a strange sort of calm as he pulls his fries from the oven.
Almost.
Because then the broadcast shows this nifty little steal Ilya made earlier, and sh24_hockey stops on that frame. “Sloppy play from Rozanov here,” he announces through the staticky background noise, which – what?
Being at the top of the league is a lonely endeavour – until Ilya finds an annoying streamer with astonishing insights, who is strangely familiar…
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Bookmarked by ineffableink
12 Jun 2026
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florida by garagepaperback
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
09 Apr 2026
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“Are you going insane? What’s happening?”
Ilya lays a palm over the side of his face, clawing thumb into soft after Hollander tries to swat him off. “You’re at my house and you came here to get fucked. Then you will leave, after. Do you forget more? Your name is Shane Hollander and you pretend to love hockey but your real love is taking it up the ass. You cry, most of the time. But you like crying, too.”
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or: Instead of going to the cottage, Ilya moves to Florida.
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Bookmarked by ineffableink
12 Jun 2026
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Bookmarker's Notes
“The girls here are careless slobs, every last one.”
“And they leave you with a convenience store?”
Ilya mostly ignores her. “They are not like you. Tiny bag, empty, coming and going without a trace. There isn’t anyone like you.”
Svetlana, content that she’d distracted him from an impending meltdown or happy enough that she’d pushed him over the cliff toward one, yawns and goes back to her phone. “It’s true.”
“Really. It’s only you,” Ilya agrees, not finding the right moment so much as running out of them, grabbing the nearest one and strangling it into submission. He rolls off the bed. It takes a second, digging through his pants pocket from yesterday—last night, he had thought, then none of it felt right. Ilya settles at her side of the bed, dropped down onto his knees. “I’m tired of everyone else on earth. I want only you. Will you marry me?”
“Sure.” Svetlana laughs and doesn’t look up. It’s a noise he loves. A head turning from three booths down, leaping right over gut-thrumming base in a club sort of noise. “Tomorrow?”
“I mean it, Svetlana.”
She scowls. Delight falls off her face like it never happened. She looks down. “Stop it. This is a nice morning. No more stupid jokes and serious names.”
“It’s not a fucking joke.”
She leans off the bed, reaches with a soft hand. Then plants her palm, fingers spread, over the bridge of his nose. The shove lands him on his ass, a nice glossy ring box on the ground with him. “It’s not funny. I do not think this is funny.”
All that practice and still this voice. “Neither do I. I love you.”
“No, Ilya.” The sharp cut of his name, unsoftened, any endearment all run out. “Do not lie. You lie to me too many times and I will not recognize you—already there are too many. Soon there won’t be any of you left.”
It’s a beautiful day. Always, now. The sun aches at the back of his bare shoulders, broiling the ring in the box, a ready explanation for the sour simmer made of his chest. His head. He thought: a house, a wife. A good enough reason to stop. It doesn’t work to say I can’t, Hollander, he doesn’t listen—Ilya has to show him. He’s always been so close to understanding, just needs the slightest little shove to finally live in it.
Fine, then. Not her. The ring could work with anyone. He has another date tonight.
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A Danger to Yourself or Others by onetrueharem
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
15 Apr 2026
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Galina stopped writing to look at Ilya. "Do you think he'd be willing to talk to you next time it happens, even if it's late?"
Ilya's stomach turned over. He didn't even want to consider it, but he knew the answer. "Yes. But he silences his phone at night."
"Most phones these days have an option to let certain numbers ring through, even on Do Not Disturb. Do you think he'd be open to setting that up for you?"
Imagining that conversation made Ilya nauseous. Yes, no fucking doubt, Shane would be open to it if Ilya explained the reason. "I'm not going to ask him to do that."
Set during The Long Game, an alternate version where the plane scene doesn't happen. Instead, there's this: a car crash, a therapist's duty to report, and an urgent reckoning with priorities.
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Hard Times: Contemporary Narratives from the Federal Writers' Project 1936-1941 by tomato_greens
Fandoms: Captain America (Movies)
28 Mar 2017
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Steve Rogers weren't a girl. He lookt it though—he had the bones of a girl underneath.
Series
- Part 7 of What's Good
Bookmarked by ineffableink
12 Jun 2026
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blender in a blender by garagepaperback
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
15 Apr 2026
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For Christmas, Shane asked for a new pack of the old compression socks he likes, an upgrade on the same brand of juicer they’ve had forever, and for Ilya to keep fucking him even when he cries and screams and begs him to stop. He expected Ilya to grin. At worst, to drag Shane up against his chest and sigh, my poor deprived husband, full access to the very best cock in Ottawa and still he wants more. He never thought Ilya would say no.
or: Shane’s husband won’t give him what he doesn’t want. Maybe Scott Hunter will.
Bookmarked by ineffableink
12 Jun 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
“Yes,” Ilya says, smiling. What an irritating, irrationally perfect person. He composes himself, which just means sitting up the slightest bit. “What about you, Shane? Not fun. What did you have?”
Shane watches Ilya take a deep inhale of the vape, flimsy and shining off the light from the living room between his thick pink fingers. Watches just those, annoyed to see them swallowed in smoke. Eventually gets away from Ilya’s mouth to look up and find him looking.
“Um. A late Christmas gift. It was missing a bow, though. You could have put a bow on him.”
“Ha,” Ilya pronounces. Dangerous to glance back at that mouth but there’s no choice in it, for Shane.
“I don’t know. I got what I wanted.”
Ilya doesn’t say anything to that. Inhales on the vape with his jaw cut to the side so the smoke streams out and away from Shane, like that will do anything. Like he isn’t always five minutes from getting back inside Ilya’s mouth.
He says he’ll quit. Sometimes he claims he already did when they’re being extra shitty to each other. Shane loves him so much. In the morning, they won’t go to that fundraiser. In the morning, they’ll fight. In the morning, they’ll be different. Shane will be on his back in the gym, body coiling into a new stretch to try and ease the raw sting of his shoulder. Ilya will be loud in the shower, Ilya will be annoying about what they’ll do for dinner, Ilya will be perfect. A husband that squints at the right strawberry plants and chooses well, fills things up, sets them out ripe and blushing and eager to be eaten.
“Good,” Ilya says. “Nothing means more to me in the world than Shane Hollander getting what he wants.”