1 – 6 of 6 Works in sargeantwoof

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  1. “Jesus fuck,” Marley says, before he gets a look at Ilya's smug face and rolls his eyes. “At least tell me you didn't bite her back." He shakes his head, grinning. “She is most fussy,” he says. “No marks, Rozanov; no shoes in the house, asshole; stop picking me up and throwing me on my bed, I just made it, dickhead,” he mocks, before he gestures at his shoulder. “And then she rides me for three hours and bites me like a vampire. These things I must suffer through.” OR: Boston's got the Montreal Jane pattern basically locked down. The bite mark on Ilya's shoulder is new, though.

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    2 versions
    AO3:
    #80477371
  2. When Shane Hollander sits down across from her, Rose's first thought is uh oh. Her next thought is, I thought he'd be taller. The rest, she supposes, is history. OR: A Rose can't bloom in a drought.

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    Files:
    2 versions
    AO3:
    #78454001
  3. Shane's been on the receiving end of Hayden's assessing gaze enough times to be able to guess at what he's going to ask next as he wrinkles his nose and juts his chin out, narrowing his gaze at them. “You know, you never really did say how long it was that you two were hooking up for before you got serious.” “Is a long time,” Ilya says, with more than a little bit of pride in his tone. Shane tips his head back to meet his eyes and shrugs. Neither of them has ever dropped anything more than several years in interviews, keeping the details to themselves, but it’s less of an issue than he expects. He sort of wants to brag about how long it’s been; he wants to celebrate the fact that they had all those broken years together and still managed to make it through. At this point, they’re coming up on more years together than not, which is insane if he thinks about it too hard. OR: As always, the truth shall set [Shane] free.

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    Files:
    2 versions
    AO3:
    #77499911
  4. It sits with him. And there were no nice men in Montreal? It burns in his mind, a slow, dreadful smolder. It fogs across his thoughts, cloying and terrible. What a stupid, awful question. What a fucking weird thing to say about his— about his boyfriend. No nice men in Montreal? And all he'd said was I don't know. He's a terrible person. OR: Shane thinks he should be better at this whole boyfriend thing, no matter how new it is.

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    Files:
    2 versions
    AO3:
    #77208336
  5. “It’s silly,” Shane murmurs, as the heat from the water slowly starts to turn lukewarm. Ilya is still warm against him, and that’s really all he needs. “How much I'm looking forward to waking up next to you.” He presses his mouth against the hollow of Ilya's neck, nuzzling in closer. “And we get tomorrow.” “Da,” Ilya whispers. “We get tomorrow.” What a world to live in, Shane thinks, his grip turning greedy, his fingers squeezing. To have tomorrow. To know that he's going to wake up in Ilya's arms. They'll have breakfast together. It's the middle of the season and they live hundreds of kilometers apart, and somehow, some way, they're making this work. What a fucking miracle. OR: Shane & Ilya get a moment to breathe in the final Boston year.

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    Files:
    2 versions
    AO3:
    #76719356
  6. Ilya, golden-haired and laughing on the ice. Ilya, his eyes glinting with smoldering, amorous desire. Ilya, fast asleep, curled up next to him, his mouth open, drooling on the pillow. Even when they fight, Shane will occasionally have to bite back that knee-jerk reaction of want, that sharp pang of need that rises when Ilya gets so annoyed he slips into Russian, when he throws his head back, his curls rustling, and gestures at Shane like, can you believe this shit? Shane doesn't think he'll ever get tired of looking at him, of soaking him in. What a relief it is to be able to. OR: Shane & Ilya are deeply, desperately in love.

    Language:
    English
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    4,325
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Files:
    2 versions
    AO3:
    #75505531