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    lucarozanov

    if shane hollander gets mad at me reading about him getting blasted in the ass then he can check his bank account. i know ilya would be chill with it though

    Luca Haas tries very hard to not let anyone know about his dark (read: embarrassing) past. Unfortunately, the fans are ready to let people know for him.

    Or, Luca used to run a tumblr blog for Hollanov and the internet goes wild.

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    22 Jan 2026

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    Shane swipes out of a few notifications from the ESPN app, all clickbait about Scott Hunter’s speech at the NHL awards. He can’t deal with those right now, his brain is not online. Then he sees the Snapchat notification, from Ilya.

    Shane puts his phone down and blinks a few times. He picks it up and checks the display again. The notification is still there.

    He hasn’t gotten a Snap from Ilya since the end of the season back in April, after they crashed out of the Frozen Four without making it to the final. Shane saw him a few times after that, at team meetings and at the annual sports awards dinner, but he’s pretty sure Ilya left campus before the end of the semester. Shane wasn’t expecting anything from him until the fall, when he’s back at school.

    He rubs his eyes and rolls onto his side, swiping the app open. It’s a video.

    or, the boys are in college, featuring self discovery, russian diminutives, and (to ilya's chagrin) the scott hunter of it all.

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    16 Jan 2026

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    “I’m putting in a transfer request to Carleton this afternoon.”

    Ilya gets off his bike and wraps his sweaty arms around Shane’s sweaty shoulders, presses their sweaty heads together and holds him tight. “Nooo, Hollander, you cannot leave me. Who will put Barrett and Marly in time out when they fuck up too many shots in a row?”

    “I’m sure Bood will do it. He loves bossing people around.”

    Bood stands up straight and salutes his captains. “I take the title with great honor. Enjoy the Ravens, Hollander—your legacy of being a chaste Victorian debutante will be remembered fondly but not carried on.”

    This snaps that last thread of Shane’s refined patience. “I can pick up girls! I have no problem getting numbers and calling them and talking!”

    Hazy smirks. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

    “I can pick people up,” Shane says again, moving off his bike and out of Ilya’s sweaty embrace. “And I don’t have to do it by concocting schemes or stripping on top of the LAX bros’ coffee table.”

    Or, after some team chirping at Shane's expense, Ilya accidentally interrupts a few of his potential dating prospects and then keeps on doing it less than accidentally

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    11 Jan 2026

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    He only realizes he’s doing it when it’s too late to stop.

    He’s standing in the drink aisle of the grocery store, checking the expiration dates on the cans of Coke, mentally cross-checking them with Boston’s away game schedule, and the reality hits him like someone shook one of those cans and popped it open. A snap. A fizz. A mess.

    Shane is making space for Ilya.

     

    (or, lessons in budget-friendly shopping, home decor, and resisting the urge to neatly combine all your situationship’s shit into a drawer in your bedroom because you might be falling in love with him: a seven-ish step guide by shane hollander, who is so, so fucked)

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    06 Jan 2026

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    Rozanov glanced at Shane's phone screen, reading the top notification. Then his mouth curved. “Duolingo, huh? So fucking boring, Hollander.”

    Shane’s face went hot. “Yeah,” he said. “Learning French.”

    Rozanov’s eyes snapped to his. The smirk deepened. “Bad liar, Hollander. You are fluent.”

     

    or - Ilya finds out that Shane has been learning Russian behind his back.

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    05 Jan 2026