PerpetuallyPerplexed



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    Shane Hollander is the youngest Commander in ISS history; straight-backed, closeted, and so tightly on his own leash that seven months in orbit with Ilya Rozanov have not produced a single crack in his composure.

    Ilya Rozanov is the Russian cosmonaut who should have had his job, won’t stop bouncing a tennis ball off the walls, and is still looking for a fissure. Thankfully, a solar storm finds it for him.

    or: Near-death, zero gravity, and the wrong man’s hands in exactly the right places.

    A Cosmonaut!Ilya x Astronaut!Shane AU 🚀

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    09 Jun 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    DAMN this was good! I can't believe I put it off for so long and then almost called in sick to work because I didn't want to out it down. Fantastic writing, immaculate plot, this fic is so sexy and smart! Everyone should read it, and if they don't they're missing out.

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    The internet has decided that Ilya Rozanov is absolutely, definitely, 100% banging a Hollander.

    They’ve got photo evidence. Multiple sightings. Instagram stories from the same café. The man stayed OVERNIGHT at the Hollander residence.

    It’s the most legendary power move in NHL history: seduce your rival’s hot mom to assert dominance. There’s just one tiny problem with this theory. Ilya’s fucking a Hollander, all right. Just … not that one.

    Or in which Ilya’s boyfriend's mother keeps adopting him, the internet keeps assuming the worst, and Shane Hollander is having the worst month of his entire life. At least until he does something that breaks hockey forever.

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    03 Jun 2026

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    “Where are you going?”

    “To the arena, Hollander. We are playing a game in three hours.”

    “That’s tomorrow, Rozanov,” Hollander says, smirking like Ilya might be fucking with him and he wants to make sure he’s in on the joke. He looks behind and around him. “Um, can I come inside?”

    “Hollander, we have game today. You were here yesterday.”

    Hollander is striding toward his kitchen, looking over his shoulder at Ilya like he’s getting tired of the joke. “Very funny. I was in Montreal yesterday, Rozanov.”

    “Hollander.” Ilya goes to stand in front of him. Hollander’s eyes flicker up and down his body the way that Ilya usually craves, but is rather unwelcome right now. “Today is Thursday. Game is today. Yesterday, you came to my house. We ate tuna melts, watched Buffalo game. Then, you left.”

    “Rozanov, it’s Wednesday morning. And I’ve never been to your house before.”

    “Hollander…”

    “Look at your phone if you don’t believe me.”

    Ilya snorts like a bull and pulls his phone out of his pocket, swipes down on the screen to look at the date.

    Wednesday, November 9th.


    Or: Ilya Rozanov in Groundhog Day!

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    01 Jun 2026

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    Shane Hollander suffers a career ending injury in Metros training camp derailing his pro hockey dreams before they even start. He is forced to come to terms with who he is without his sport and find a new direction. Ilya Rozanov with nobody around to push him has lost his love for the game. More than a decade later, the new team doctor brings up old feelings that never had the space to grow all those years ago, but are now growing out of control.

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    01 Jun 2026

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    Jaw Man flicked his middle finger up at Ilya, who didn’t seem to mind, and gestured towards Shane and Hayden with raised eyebrows. “The f*** are you even doing right now, man.”

    Ilya said briefly, “Orgy.”

    “Uh,” said Shane, “no, that’s not—”

    Ilya grinned at him. It was a mean-edged grin but something about it seemed to suggest that he was joking with Shane, rather than about him. “Oh, he speaks.”

    “We’re not here for an orgy,” Shane said to Jaw Man. “We’re missionaries with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

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    20 May 2026