michellio



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya Rozanov has been drafted by Boston, the number one pick overall, but his father doesn't want him moving to America and so takes steps to block his visa. He's going to have to go back to Russia and stay there forever and that, thinks Shane Hollander, is wrong.

    It's so wrong that Shane can't stop himself from doing something about it. Even though that something is the most reckless, the only reckless thing he's ever done in his life. He marries Rozanov in secret, to keep him out of Russia and put him on a path to Canadian citizenship.

    Shane's got a five-year plan to get him there and when you have a plan nothing can go wrong. Right? Right. When you have a solid plan and a marriage that's on paper only there's no risk of feelings getting involved. Not on Rozanov's part and certainly not on Shane's.

    Right???

    (or, the story of how Shane Hollander fell in love with his own husband)

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    24 Jun 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    GENUINELY NO WORDS TO DESCRIBE HOW IMMACULATE THIS PIECE OF WRITING IS!! I HAVE SPENT HOURS, STARING AT THE WALL, THINKING ABOUT EVERYTHING SAID AND NOT SAID BETWEEN SHANE AND ILYA LOVE LOVE LOVEE :))

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “Am I too boring for you?”

    He doesn’t mean to ask. Doesn’t mean for those words to come out. They fall from his lips before he has a chance to stop them, and the second they’re out there he wants to take them back. He wants to swallow them down so they can’t hurt anyone but himself.

    Because Ilya…Ilya flinches.

    “What.”

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    22 Jun 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    LOVE :)

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya was looking away from the garden, away from their daughter, and at him. It was his full, unmediated attention that Shane had spent years learning to receive without deflecting, which he had never mastered and probably never would. It was a great deal of attention. It had always been.

    [...]

    "She is like you," Ilya said, into his hair. "In here." Shane felt, rather than saw, the gesture—Ilya pressing a hand briefly to his own chest. "The way you were."

    "I wasn't—"

    "Да, детка.You were." Shane huffed out a breath, and Ilya squeezed the side of his stomach with amused affection. “When I was trying to find you, you were just like this: present and also somewhere very far away, so careful with everything, and impossible to reach unless you wanted to be." A pause. "It took time. You needed time, a lot of it, and I had to trust that. And eventually, I found you.”

    His voice lowered, guttural. "And I will always find you."

     

     

    ilya, shane, & their middle daughter—as seen by each other.

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    16 Jun 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    NO WORDS CAN POSSIBLY DESCRIBE HOW UTTERLY GORGEOUS THIS PIECE OF WRITING IS I WISH I COULD MARRY THIS FICC 10000/10

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya glances at Shane, at the way the dying light is catching in his hair, refracting. At that spiderlily mouth, slightly open and curling coyly, two teeth peeked through the dark gap like an American Girl doll. At that shoulder, bare and pale and close enough to touch if Ilya just leaned forward, if he just reached out and took another liberty.

    To touch another person is to say: I know you will die, and I am doing this anyway.

    His mother used to say something like this. About painting.

    Every portrait is an act of faith, Ilyushenka. Faith and futility both.

    contrary to personal preference, ilya gets a roommate.

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    12 Jun 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    GOODNESS THIS IS SO BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN WITH SUCH IMMERSIVE DESCRIPTIVE WRITING!! WOULD REREAD A THOUSAND TIMES OVER I WISH I COULD READ THIS FOR THE FIRST TIME

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya's hand continues its path up and down Shane's back, and Shane thinks again about how love is sometimes just this: a palm on the spine, moving in circles, waiting for you to come back to yourself. There is no promise of saving you—Ilya cannot save him, they both know this and are alright with it in their own ways—but there is a vow of staying, lingering in order to witness. Touching the bruise so that its pain triggers the memory that you are allowed to be touched.

    Outside, the snow continues its work of erasure. Inside, Shane's breathing begins to even out, every limb recalling how to be a man at rest rather than an animal fawning and freezing. The trembling subsides, wave by wave, as if Ilya's hand is smoothing it out of him.

    "Sleep, зайчик," Ilya says softly, his free hand coming to rest in Shane's hair. "I have you."

    This is not true, Shane thinks, and it is also the only true thing.

     

    recovery, shane learns, is not a straight line. to begin to understand something, you must first name it.

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    11 Jun 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    SO BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN WITH SO MUCH LOVE AND RESPECT FOR THE CHARACTERS ONE OF MY FAVS