dramallama



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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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    15 Apr 2026

  2. 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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    09 Apr 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    “You will not be so nice when we beat you,” Ilya told Shane Hollander, holding onto his hand, not letting him pull away. Not yet.

    But Hollander’s brow furrowed, not in anger but in confusion. “Ah, um, sorry,” Hollander said. “Merci. My English is bad. Worse… than you. Maybe slower?” And he leaned in, like that would help him understand.

    Ilya’s eyebrows rose, and his smile widened.

    Or, Ilya Rozanov grew up in Russia. Shane Hollander was raised in France. When they first meet, neither of them can speak English very well. Somehow, it’s easier to understand each other when words aren’t getting in the way.

    (Stand-alone remix of “I’m Reading Your Lips (You’re Speaking My Language)” but this time neither of them are native English speakers, and learning a new language is sort of like falling in love, if you think about it.)

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    08 Apr 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya was used to hazing. He had been subjected to it, he had participated in it, and, as a captain, he had stood guard over the rookies and protected them from anything truly harmful. But if he had been asked, Ilya would have approved of this prank. He would have authorized it, given Cliff and Vicky his seal of approval, perhaps even helped orchestrate it.

    Any other day, Ilya might have been happy to play along.

    But, in perfect dramatic irony, it had not happened any other day. It had happened today. And, cherry on top, of course the rookie had to walk in when Shane was already freaking out about Ilya saying his name.

    +++

    A prank-gone-wrong leads to the Boston Bears finding out about Shane and Ilya’s relationship in 2016. The day Ilya first invited Shane into his house. Right after they say each other’s names for the first time. Fuck his life, honestly.

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    08 Apr 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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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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    10/10
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    06 Apr 2026