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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Shane Hollander is a man who thrives on structure, routine, the solid ground of a ten-year plan. Ilya likes that about him, likes the embracing squeeze of having a life organized in tandem with Shane.

    No one would call Ilya a man who thrives on structure. But it’s there, if not in his DNA then in the patterns of his brain. A call-and-response of: they do this, I do that.

    When Ilya’s life is flayed open for the world to dissect, how will they push-and-pull their way back towards what was once a well-organized life?


    “I thought we could go through the schedules and figure out what days we’ll be in the same cities this season, or when either of us have a couple of days off in a row. Maybe make a shared calendar, so we c—”

    “A sex calendar? Your parents are arriving in thirty minutes, and you are proposing making a sex calendar?” Oh, this was delicious. He’d be able to eat out on this for years, if Shane was willing to give him that long.

    “It’s not a sex calendar! It’s just … when we might be able to see each other,” he finished, already sounding defeated.

    “And what are you planning on doing when we are seeing each other? Not fucking?”

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    01 May 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    I fear this fic is perfect.

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya starts calling Shane boring regularly after that, not cruelly but persistently, the way you press a bruise you know is there just to confirm it still hurts. Shane's cereal is boring, Shane's training schedule is boring, Shane's shoes lined up by the door are boring, and Shane responds with variations of "fuck off" and "you're an asshole" that become increasingly creative and occasionally surprising. They do not talk about anything that matters. They talk about groceries and whose turn it is to take out the trash and whether Ilya's music is too loud at midnight, which it is.

    On the ice, Shane is someone else entirely. Ilya watches him from the upper stands every morning with vending machine coffee going cold in his hand and doesn't tell anyone.

    Or: Shane asked Ilya once how you know when it's the right person. Ilya described Shane to him, and Shane didn't recognise himself.

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    02 Apr 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya flopped onto the blanket next to Shane, dripping wet.

    “So,” he said. “You like sexy role play, yes?”

    Shane, who had just taken that moment to take a sip of ginger ale, promptly choked on it, spilling fizzy liquid all over his stomach and crotch.

    “Jesus Christ,” he rasped, as Ilya laughed at him, the fucker. “Who starts a conversation like that?”

    Shane and Ilya's intimacy at the cottage leads to some revelations that Shane had been repressing. Ilya is excited to give him exactly what he wants in every way.

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    28 Mar 2026

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    “How can Montreal be snowed in?” Ilya asks. “They are not ready for winter?”

    “It’s Montreal, man,” Marleau snickers, like that's an explanation.

    Ilya’s phone buzzes.

    Jane- 9:44 a.m.- Look on the bright side. If you’re stuck another day, you can come back here.

    ________

    After Ilya leaves Shane’s apartment for the first time, he knows he’s on thin ice and at risk of falling into more serious feelings. He’s ready to put distance back between them.

    A Montreal blizzard has other ideas.

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    19 Mar 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Sometimes life came at you with a clenched fist and Ilya had never figured out how to duck.

    So here he was, twenty-eight years old, single, dealing with the fallout from injuries given to him by the game he loved, and the second youngest assistant coach in the league to one of the worst teams. Stability was hard to come by, but he was managing.

    Then along came Shane Hollander to knock him on his ass, one more time.

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    02 Mar 2026