kathi0111



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    Shane wasn't looking back at him. He assumed that Ilya would be paying attention to the game, not its spectators. Sofia was sat upright in his lap. He was moving her back and forth to follow the puck. Ilya could see his mouth moving, even at this distance- no doubt he was explaining the rules to her infant ears. Hockey would be her first language.

    Sofia was more interested in the person holding her than the game. She tipped her little head back, back, back until she was looking up at her dad. The two of them smiled, and then Shane leaned down ever so slightly.

    He was brushing their noses together in the softest little nuzzle Ilya had ever seen. When he was done, Shane pressed a kiss onto her forehead.

    At twenty-three, Shane Hollander was convinced that life after hockey would be empty. He couldn't imagine a world where he'd be completely happy without the focus and drive that came with playing a professional sport.

    By thirty-seven, Shane was convinced that life after hockey was better. Who needed skates and sticks when your daughter was looking up at you with such a perfect, tiny smile, and your husband was winning games for all three of you?

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    23 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    At the age of 22, Shane Hollander has never had sex. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he's strict about only sleeping with someone he's truly committed to. Except for the past few months he's regularly making out with Ilya Rozanov, his best friend of three years, and it drives Ilya so crazy that Shane lets him go jerk off in the bathroom after nothing more than just kissing. But as the weeks pass and the want between them grows, Shane starts to realize that the person he's been waiting for might have been there all along.

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    22 Jun 2026

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    “Game is over,” he says. “You won. I lost. I was annoying. Normal.”

    “That’s not—” Shane starts, then stops, because he actually doesn't know how to finish that thought without sounding like an idiot. His jaw works, teeth grinding together.

    That's not what I meant. That's not the point. You said I was boring and you were right and I need you to say it again so I know where I stand, so I know what you think of me, so I can stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.

    He settles for: “You were kind of an asshole.”

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    22 Jun 2026

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    Shane pulls back, carefully cradling Ilya’s face. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

    “You don’t want to?” Ilya’s eyes are bottomless; swimming with grief. He says it like he really means, You don’t want me?

    “That isn’t what I mean,” Shane says gently, brushing his thumb over Ilya’s cheekbone. Ilya’s eyes flutter shut, as if being treated so tenderly causes him physical pain. Like he isn’t used to it. “You’re hurting. I don’t want you to regret it in the morning.” 

    Ilya’s eyes open. “I have never regretted a moment with you.”

    *

    Or: the missing hotel room scene in Florida after Shane comforts Ilya.

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    22 Jun 2026

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    “You are planning to rob me or what?” He hears Rozanov call, and he can’t help but smile slightly even as he rolls his eyes, closing the door to the linen closet and feeling strangely lighter than when he opened it, reassured that he’s just trying to read into a blank page, that today doesn’t mean anything more than Rozanov doesn’t mind him being around, which is strangely flattering.

    “I don’t know,” he calls back. “Don’t Russians like diamonds and fur and stuff? Where should I start looking if I want to know what my options are?”

    He hears Rozanov laugh, and it makes him smile.

    When he joins him in the living room once more, Rozanov tugs him down to lean against him again. Shane goes easier this time, settling into it, knowing it doesn’t mean anything other than the fact that he just happens to be the closest warm body, the person on Rozanov’s roster who filled today’s slot.

    (the tuna meltdown doesn't happen) (this does not mean they get ANY better at communication)

    (or: how shane didn't realize he had a boyfriend for several months)

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    22 Jun 2026