syl8



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  1. Public Bookmark 61

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    Ilya loses a bet with Shane. They both get what they want, in the end.

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    28 Jan 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    alternate universe where it’s ‘i’m coming to the cottage’ but make it feral werewolf shifter Ilya trying to court an oblivious Shane.

    or

    Shane trying to enjoy a relaxing time at the cottage only to discover a hot naked man in his living room, instead of the wolf he had previously put there.

    Language:
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    27 Jan 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Shane Hollander wakes up in a hospital room convinced it’s 2016 — and that Ilya Rozanov is still his biggest rival, someone he’s supposed to hate.
    But the world has changed. It’s 2025. They play for the same team, live in the same house, and Ilya Rozanov is wearing a wedding ring.
    Now Shane has to relive nine lost years, learn to trust his ‘enemy,’ and find out whether he can fall in love with his own husband all over again.

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    26 Jan 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    "Was this fun you planned for us to have at your cottage, Hollander?" he huffs. Shane doesn't even look up from his laptop. He has a fucking legal pad out and he's taking notes. "You brought me all the way out here to ignore me."

    Without looking away from the screen, Shane replies, "You can survive a few hours without me entertaining you."

    "I will not," Ilya grumbles. "I will die, and then charity won't even happen because I will be dead. You will wish you had not read these documents, Hollander, after I am gone."

    Or; Shane is trying to get some reading done. Ilya is left to entertain himself.

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    26 Jan 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya pressed closer. “You fold their clothes,” he said roughly. “You skate with me. You carry our children and fight for them and I-” He broke off, swallowing. “There is no word in Russian. Not good enough.”

    Shane turned slowly in his arms. They were close now. Too close. But still not enough.

    He reached up, cupped Ilya’s jaw with one hand. “You don't have to have a word,” he said. “You love me. I know.”

    Ilya’s eyes darkened. “Yes. I am walked.

    Shane grinned, amused and aroused in equal measure. “Oh yeah?”

    “Yes. You… make me fetch oat milk. And remember recycling. And vacuum couch crumbs. I am the captain of National team, but in our home I am…” he shrugged, mock-suffering. “I am whipped. Like cream.”

    Shane snorted this time, eyes bright in adoration to Ilya and his usage of new English slang. Shane reached for the hem of Ilya’s shirt and tugged him forward. His voice was light but knowing. “And yet you still think you’re the lucky one.”

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    26 Jan 2026