Azealia



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    “Ilya, what are we gonna do?” Shane says.

    Ilya finishes whatever he has been doing on his phone, and tosses it gently to the bed beside him. He crosses the room to Shane, stands in front of him, squeezes into his shoulders with his big hands, rubbing them like he means to warm them up.

    “Looks like we will have a little vacation,” he says, with a big obnoxious grin.

     


     

    Boston and Montreal are sent to Paris to play against each other in an exhibition series in January 2017. Ilya and Shane decide to stay in Paris for one more night. Just one more night, so they can talk. Maybe finally understand each other.

    They aren't expecting a volcano to erupt in Iceland and close all the airspace in Europe, leaving them stranded there. Together.

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    05 Jul 2026

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    And yeah, Shane knew that Ilya hadn’t been okay last time he was in Russia, but Ilya had had the very real excuse of a funeral to blame things on. Ilya had downplayed it as much as he could, and Shane hadn’t been there, he’d heard the fatigue and he’d seen Ilya’s tired smile, but he hadn’t felt the way Ilya’s hands were cold the entire time he was there, hadn’t seen through the screen the way Ilya dropped eight pounds in three weeks, hadn’t kept time when there were twenty hours in Ilya’s day instead of something closer to sixteen. Or, on the flip side, for the week or two after, when there had been approximately ten conscious hours in a day.

    It was one thing to see something. It was another to feel it in your hands.

    Ilya and Shane are so, so happy for their first year married. They’re playing in Ottawa together, they’re fucking winning, they’re together and out.

    So now, after a year, Ilya should be fine. He should be great. He should not be flinching at small noises or nearly punching people off the clock or feeling like he’s drowning whenever he’s not on the ice.

    Or: Ilya Rozanov, meet your PTSD.

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    04 Jul 2026

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    Hayden stares, the sight in front of him not quite computing.

    There is the couch. There is Shane on the couch. There is Shane on the couch, sleeping on his back with one arm wrapped securely around the waist of another person sleeping on top of him. The waist of another man sleeping on top of him.

    A man.

    As in, not Boston Lily.

    As in, not a woman at all.
    -
    Or, a prank goes awry and Hollanov is outed even earlier. At least everyone can agree that it’s still entirely Hayden Pike’s fault.

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    03 Jul 2026

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    There were things about Shane Hollander that existed only in the dark, and those things were most of him.

    or; a moment of vulnerability at a team gathering turns into a viral scandal overnight when a video of Shane coming out is leaked to the press.

    Suddenly, everyone is watching. Everyone is talking. Everyone is judging.

    It all goes to hell—until maybe it doesn't.

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    5/?
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    29 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    "I can't, OK? You win."

    "I think you can try harder than that."

    Shane stares up at Ilya and Ilya stares down at Shane, and Shane realizes he's not getting out of this without playing along. There's a challenge in Ilya's eyes, a glint of danger that makes the competitive nerve in Shane's spine itch.

    He takes a deep breath, and tries to break loose. Really tries. Tries to buck Ilya off his lap and tug his arms free. Tries to roll out from under him. Even plants his feet on the mattress to get more leverage but…he can't do it.

    OR; Ilya discovers he might be stronger than Shane. Luckily, this is an incredibly hot discovery for both of them.

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    27 Jun 2026