streaksofviolet



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    Shrugging one shoulder far more casually than he possibly feels, Ilya says, “I like both. Is secret, okay?”

    “Okay,” Hollander says, voice cracking.

    He doesn’t say anything else. The air’s so heavy around them that it feels like being in the middle of a scrum, the weight and heat of all those bodies pressing down on you. Danger always feels like hockey; it’s the most dangerous thing Ilya knows, except for this. Everything dangerous in his life involves men’s bodies and just how close he can get to them. Closer than he probably should.

    A year after mysteriously dropping out of the 2009 draft, Shane Hollander is signed by the Boston Raiders, right behind Ilya Rozanov. Having the two biggest stars in the league on the same line is great for Boston — but playing alongside their worst rival was never exactly in Shane or Ilya's plans. Especially not when staying away from each other starts to feel just as impossible as getting along.

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    26 Jun 2026

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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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    16 Jun 2026

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    "He said it was just a stronger edible," Wyatt says. "Apparently it was supposed to be super natural, and relaxing and rejuvenating, not the weak Canadian shit, and—"

    "You say a bad word, Hazy," Ilya interrupts, pointing a tiny finger at him.

    "Right." Wyatt winces. "Sorry, kid."

    Rejuvenating. Shane turns the word over in his mind a few times, while readjusting Ilya’s little body in his arms.

    Jesus fucking Christ.

    -

    or, with the help of some mysterious russian candy and a very loving husband, ilya rozanov heals his inner child.

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    07 Jun 2026

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    “I want to fuck you before my dick stops working.”

    “You know that’s a possible side effect, right? We don’t know that’s gonna happen.”

    “Mm. If I expect it I will not be disappointed.”

    “If it does, we’ll figure something out. And—“

    “A broken dick is better than a broken brain.”

    -

    or; ilya takes medication and he can't come like he usually does so they try something new. also emotions and tenderness and love.

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    05 Jun 2026

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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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    13 May 2026