Emmei



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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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    03 Jul 2026

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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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    02 Jul 2026

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    "Hi, solnyshko.”
    The Russian pet name set a firework off inside Shane's mind as he heard it cooed from behind him. The intonation was just as he remembered, but the voice was much deeper.

    He turned and felt himself short circuit. It took every ounce of willpower to not let his jaw drop cartoonishly to the floor. Shane would recognize his individual features anywhere, even after 5 years. But it was as if someone had snapped their fingers and the smug, silly Russian boy who had been attached to Shane's hip for 3 summers was transformed into some sort of fucking Adonis right before his eyes.

    “Ilya-” was all Shane managed before strong arms were wrapped around his waist and lifting him off the ground in a greeting all too familiar from years ago.

     

    OR
    When Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov spent their summers as teens in an elite hockey camp, they quickly became inseparable friends. But they lose touch when Shane moves on as a prospect for the NHL and Ilya for the KHL.

    Years later, Montreal makes a bold move to take the hottest player in the KHL. After hearing of the Russian's reputation, the Montreal Captain is tasked with keeping his old best friend and new teammate out of trouble.

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    27 Jun 2026

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    Ilya Rozanov’s opponents would describe him as a brutal savage with a dirty record, known for hitting after the bell’s gone off. Spectators would describe him as a cocky spitfire with the stats to back it up, dollar bills passed around like candy whenever he was in the cage. Commentators would describe him as a barreling force of nature with a promising legacy. Weighing in at a hundred and eighty-five pounds of raw muscle, he was the son of Grigori Rozanov, notorious Russian street fighter, and he pulled no punches, so to speak.

    Shane would describe Ilya Rozanov as a fucking asshole with, admittedly, a pretty clean uppercut. Hardly any of the matches he’d watched him win had lasted the full five minutes.

    *

    AU. Shane first introduces himself to Ilya Rozanov ten minutes before they’re slotted to beat the shit out of each other in front of a live audience. They go together like fire and gasoline.

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    24 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 78

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    There’s something, right there, that makes Ilya even more beautiful through the screen. The ferocity in his eyes, the precision of his hands, the sheer dominance of his body. Shane tries really hard to ignore it, trying to focus on the bloodstains spreading on the canvas.

    It shouldn’t be beautiful.

    It can never be beautiful.

     
    UFC @ufc

    TONIGHT.
    HOLLANDER VS ROZANOV
    No turning back.

    💥💥💥

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    24 Jun 2026