meinterrupted



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Recent series

  1. Words:
    6,008
    Works:
    1
  2. Summary

    Lmao Kent is like “god he’s the worst person but he fucks like a freight train and he has a beard and if I text him, he’ll show up ten minutes later missing a shoe bc he’s that desperate to fuck me. So I think I come out ahead?”

    OR

    The saga of how Kent V. Parson, the first gay Calder Memorial Trophy winner (suck it, Zimmerman), two-time Stanley Cup Champ, and Certified Fucking Rocket[tm], and Taylor "Carly" Carlsberg, better known for breaking noses than breaking records and the most repressed closet case in the NHL, somehow find themselves hatefucking their way through mountains of toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia and end up somewhere near true love and happiness.

    Words:
    9,940
    Works:
    2
    Bookmarks:
    7
  3. Words:
    2,799
    Works:
    2
  4. Summary

    Each work in this series is a ficlet collection for a different fandom. Each chapter is an unrelated story, often from tumblr asks, challenge prompts, or "100 words" prompts from fail_fandomanon.

    Words:
    22,392
    Works:
    5
    Bookmarks:
    3
  5. Summary

    A series of interconnected Frank/Foggy one-shots.

    Words:
    7,310
    Works:
    2
    Bookmarks:
    45

Recent bookmarks

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    “It’s one of your superstitions, right?” Hayden asked. “Like my hat. It’s your good luck shirt.”

    Shane felt a chill run down his spine.

    He hadn’t thought anyone would notice. In truth, he’d barely noticed himself. It wasn’t something he was actively doing. It wasn’t like his weight circuit or his diet or his night routine. It wasn’t meditation or yoga or cross-training. Those were all things he did with meticulous, painstaking purpose. This was just… this was something else. This wasn’t thought driven. If he was being honest, it barely had to do with hockey. It maybe was one of the only things in his life that didn’t have to do with hockey. If he was stressed, he wore the shirt and it made him feel a little bit better. It just so happened that most of the time he was stressed about something to do with hockey. That was it. It was just a feeling.

    A feeling of calm that came from Ilya Rozanov’s shirt.

    OR: Shane accidentally wore Ilya's shirt back to the hotel after it things started to feel Too Real. What if he kept the shirt?

    OR: 5 Times Someone Noticed Shane's New Favorite Shirt + 1 Time Shane Realized Ilya Still Had His Too

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    9,936
    Chapters:
    6/6
    Comments:
    141
    Kudos:
    2,765
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    542
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    09 Feb 2026

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    "You will bend for me many times, I think, before this production is over."

    Shane means to say no. He means to tell Ilya Rozanov—arrogant Bolshoi principal dancer and professional pain in his ass—to fuck off and stop moving set pieces without permission. Instead, he ends up on his knees in a dressing room, which is definitely not how the Royal Winnipeg Ballet’s stage manager is supposed to handle conflict resolution.

    Three weeks until opening night. One impossible rivalry. And absolutely no way this ends well.

    or: Ilya comes to Winnipeg for The Nutcracker. Shane tries very hard to hate him. The mindblowing hate-sex doesn’t help.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    81,439
    Chapters:
    6/?
    Collections:
    1
    Comments:
    1,319
    Kudos:
    2,502
    Bookmarks:
    928
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    51,158

    09 Feb 2026

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    “Adventurous,” Ilya said, smiling sharply.
    “Shut up.”
    “This is unlike you.”
    “Shut up.”
    Ilya did, pulling open the sealed cardboard slots instead and upturning the box over his palm, not all that careful considering its contents were glass, letting the bottle fall into his hand.
    “Shit, Rozanov,” Shane said, exasperated. “I was going to return it.”
    “Oh, no, you will go broke now?" Ilya popped the cap off the perfume and sprayed it at Shane.

    Shane Hollander finds a hobby.

    Series
    Language:
    English
    Words:
    13,401
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Collections:
    1
    Comments:
    346
    Kudos:
    968
    Bookmarks:
    210
    Hits:
    5,824

    09 Feb 2026

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    "In the pile-up, Kent said some shit that I guess the refs missed in the chaos." Shane rolls his eyes and scoffs. "And it pissed me off, and I figured, hey, we're up by two in the third period, Toronto hasn't scored shit all night. I could probably take a major and the team would be fine."

    He shrugs, suddenly sheepish. "Of course, I mostly got my ass kicked, but–"

    Ilya makes sure that he's grabbing the unbruised part of Shane's face when he plants a firm kiss right on his split lip.

    Or; Ilya watches Shane lose a fight, and then helps him scratch an itch.

    Series
    Language:
    English
    Words:
    4,083
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    65
    Kudos:
    1,260
    Bookmarks:
    174
    Hits:
    10,692

    03 Feb 2026

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    "Quiet, I'm trying to say something." Shane waits. Ilya says nothing, but taps the side of Shane's head, as if prompting. "Okay. Well. I think… I think I kind of liked it?"

    Ilya continues to not say anything for a long moment, and then he grabs Shane's face and peers down at him. "Did you get new concussion while I was not looking?" he asks, brow furrowed. The genuine concern in his eyes makes Shane bristle. "Did you not see glass and run into the window like dumb bird?"

    "Fuck off," Shane sighs, rolling his eyes. "I'm being serious."

    "So am I!" Ilya insists with real worry. "Either your old concussion is not gone and it is making you say things, or you got new concussion 'cause you liked it so much! And both is very bad!"

    Or; Shane discovers that he sometimes needs to get literally knocked out of his own head for some much needed peace and quiet. Ilya has never pulled his punches, and he doesn't intend to start now.

    Series
    Language:
    English
    Words:
    5,692
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    118
    Kudos:
    1,961
    Bookmarks:
    435
    Hits:
    21,926

    03 Feb 2026

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