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    “And you’re sure there’s nothing for you?” David says suddenly. “You’re not—you’re feeling okay? You’re not sick? Shane wouldn’t have any reason to think that you’re sick?”

    Ilya blinks and turns to him. “I am fine. Totally fine. Better than fine, even, before today.”

    “It’s just—Shane’s acting like you’re dying, Ilya.”

    “Not as far as I’m aware,” says Ilya. “And I do not think he would learn this before me.”

    The summer before Ilya joins the Centaurs, Shane wakes up nervous. It doesn't stop from there.

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    29 Mar 2026

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    “Need a bet to get laid, Rozanov? You’re really that desperate these days?”

    “Nostalgic, maybe.”

    “Wow. Big word.”

    “Shut up, Hollander.”

    Shane shuts up.

    “When I win,” Rozanov continues. “I get you for…twenty-four hours.”

    or

    Shane and Ilya are in rival frats in their senior year and it's time for the annual Greek Olympiad. A bet is made.

    Language:
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    21 Mar 2026

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    “It’s Rozanov, they’re bringing on Rozanov,” he said in a rush.
    For a long moment, Shane couldn’t hear or process anything. The world had narrowed then expanded too fast, like he was falling. At some point Hayden started talking again, but he couldn’t understand him. There was only the darkness overhead and the ringing in his ears.
    “Shane? Shane, you still there?”
    The words filtered through slow and muddy, echoing. Shane’s mouth was dry, his tongue thick, but he managed, “Yeah. I’m here.”
    “Okay. You’re not gonna have a panic attack, right? Cause that would be bad probably, for your head I mean, and I just think—”
    Shane stopped listening again.
    Rozanov was coming to Montreal. He’d be in the same locker room, skating on the same ice, living in the same fucking city.

     

    Three years after Shane broke it off (not that there was anything to break off), he gets a concussion and the Metros bring in Ilya to fill in for him. A breakup and makeup fic inspired by Jane Austen's Persuasion.

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    31,380
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    10/10
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    19 Mar 2026

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    “Shane Hollander’s having a big gay wedding.”
    Ilya’s ball rocketed sideways into the woods with a crack like a rifle shot; somewhere in the trees, a goose honked in outrage.
    “Jesus Christ,” Tyler said.
    “Wow,” Marly said. “That was…what the fuck was that, Roz?”
    Ilya was gripping the club so hard his knuckles had gone white. “Bad swing.”
    “That wasn’t a bad swing, that was like a physics-defying swing. I didn’t know you could make a ball go in that direction. You okay?”
    “Fine.” Hollander was getting married. Getting gay married. Who the fuck was Hollander marrying? He wasn’t even… Ilya cleared his throat, shoved his biggest club back in the bag, noted distantly that his hands were shaking. “Hollander is gay?”

    OR: Ten years after the Tampa Bay All-Star Game, Ilya Rozanov crashes Shane Hollander's wedding

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    19 Mar 2026

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    “Oh my god,” the intruder says, voice coming faster and higher-pitched. “Shane, what the fuck? Oh my god.”

    “Eeleeyah, come to my cottage,” Ilya mocks, voice muffled by Shane’s skin. “Don’t go to Russia. Come to my house instead. Is so private. No one will know…we will be completely alone. Together.”

    “Oh my god, is that Ilya Rozanov?” the intruder yelps like he's about to start hyperventilating. “Why is Ilya Rozanov half-naked in our kitchen, Shane?”

    “Okay, I know how this looks,” Shane tells Ilya, “But I mean, technically, we are still alone. Together.”

    or,

    At the cottage, Shane and Ilya meet eighteen year old Shane Hollander. This is really only a surprise for one of them. Everyone handles it as well as can be expected.

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    13 Mar 2026