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  1. Public Bookmark *

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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.

    Series
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    09 Jan 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “No,” he says, smiling gently, like he doesn't know how irritating he's being. “Is my room first, da? You should speak with front desk.”

    Hollander stares at him.

    And then he starts to laugh.

    You ask the front desk,” he shoots back, in between his odd wheezes. Ilya's heart starts to pound in double time, because this is not—this cannot be Shane Hollander playing bed chicken with him. Their competitiveness is fierce, to be certain, but surely, Hollander would be the bigger person, no? “This is my fucking room, Rozanov. Wild horses couldn't drag me away.”

    OR: Ilya's apartment is under construction. Shane's in town for a game. It'd be a shame if they somehow had the same hotel room.

    [or, or: we need some more goddamn 'there was only one bed' out here.]

    Series
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    08 Jan 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    At the base of Shane Hollander’s throat is a dark red hickey. It’s fresh, no more than a day or two old, stark and striking against his otherwise unblemished skin.

    Ilya feels possessed.

    --

    Shane shows up to the Montreal vs Boston game in ep4 with a hickey. Ilya takes it about as well as you'd expect.

    (In which they're definitely hatefucking because they definitely hate each other and definitely don't feel anything else towards each other. Don't worry. Nothing to see here. Especially not any tenderness or love. Nope.)

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    06 Jan 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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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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    18 Dec 2025

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya in 2014 had no idea his time with Hollander was so limited — something that Ilya in 2016 knows all too well.

    Ilya in 2016 is also playing hockey like shit. The version of himself on the television misses an easy shot, and the commentators tear him apart for it. Ilya, watching from his bed, is inclined to agree with them. His father’s decline is almost a blessing this month, when his usual level of vitriol would be for once so entirely deserved.

    He’s thinking about all of this, beer in hand, when there’s a knock on his door.

    Language:
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    15 Dec 2025