thesefangs



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    Hayden cuts himself off at the sound of something he hears so rarely, he’s almost sure he’s imagining it. He scans the room, looking for the source, and sure enough, his eyes land on his target. 

    There, nestled in between two of his teammates on the couch, is Shane Hollander. 

    Laughing. Out loud. Audibly. 

    Like, he’s actually fucking laughing, not the fake laughs he forces out to make other people more comfortable. In fact, he’s laughing so hard, he looks like he might cry, and Hayden would be delighted by the sight of it if he weren’t so fucking concerned. Shane Hollander doesn’t laugh at parties. Shane Hollander barely laughs when he’s actually happy, and he’s never happy at parties. So what gives? 

    Or:

    Shane Hollander accidentally gets very high. That's it, that's the fic.

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    21 Jul 2026

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    “You didn’t like it the last time we tried it,” Shane said.

    Ilya gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Was years ago. Maybe it is an acquired taste, like licorice.”

    “You also don’t like licorice,” Shane pointed out.

    “Yes, but I keep trying it because Luca likes it so much.”

    “And then you make a face and tell him how awful it is.”

    “When have I ever told you your dick is awful?” Ilya said, looking mildly offended. “I am its number one fan.”

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    17 Jul 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 51

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    "Look, I wasn't sure how to bring this up," Shane started, putting his voice into a different register, the register he uses when he knows he's about to get what he wants, all breathy and a little whiny. A dirty little trick. "But I don't think I have the money to pay you this week, but you know I'm good for it."

    "You're good for it?" Ilya asked, and he's fallen into his role seamlessly. In another life he would have been a thespian, he thought. "I don't think this will work for me," he said, taking a menacing step towards Shane who is doing all he can to keep a giddy little smile off his lips. Not the best scene partner, admittedly. But he's got the spirit.

    "No?" he quivered out.

    "No. I don't think so." Ilya took another bite of his popsicle and tried not to break character by wincing at the brain freeze. "I have bills to pay, you know. And I spend extra time making your yard look perfect," Ilya gestured over his shoulder with the popsicle stick at the wobbly, imperfect mower lines in the grass. "and now I might not get paid? No. That won't work for me."

    Shane's eyes widened under his sunglasses, lips cherry red, bitten and juice-stained. "Could we come to some kind of arrangement?"

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    16 Jul 2026

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    It might have been easier to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. But his boyfriend was a dangerous thing right now, and God help him, Ilya couldn’t resist. He liked it when Shane’s sharp edges caught his soft sides, when all of his intensity bubbled onto the surface.

    “Did you want me to sign your tits too, Hollander?” he asked. “Make things even?”

    There was some saying about playing stupid games.

    Or: a drunken fan interaction was making its rounds on social media, and Ilya knew that apologies weren’t cheap.

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    15 Jul 2026

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    Getting information out of Ilya about his family was like getting blood from stone. Maybe harder. It had been one of the first things Shane had noticed about him. Any questions about his parents – the kind of typical things Shane’s mom had taught him to ask to make polite conversations – would result in brusque, emotionless answers or, worse, actual anger.

    But somewhere out there was Irina’s granddaughter. The only remaining blood relative that Ilya gave a shit about.

    And Ilya could never go back, which was Shane’s fault.

    So that bothered him.

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    15 Jul 2026