Naina



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    Every Boston Raider knows that although their captain has a girl in every port, he’s got a soft spot for the one in Montreal. Dr. Shane Hollander knows it’s better to have a semi-regular source of casual sex than try to make a relationship work during residency. Ilya Rozanov knows that the doctor he’s fucking in Montreal is unaware that he plays hockey, and in fact probably thinks he’s Bratva.

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    27 Apr 2026

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    "Why are you not scared?"

    "I am scared," Ilya admits. "I just am tired. Of hiding me. Of hiding you. Of hiding how much I love you. I want to go to the rink— how do you say it? Authenti."

    "Authentically," Shane supplies, automatically.

    "Yes. Authentically. I want to go to the rink authentically, as me," Ilya confirms.

    Ilya looks at Shane, pauses until Shane meets his eyes. "I want to say: I, Ilya Rozanov, love a man, and that man's name is Shane Hollander."

     

    -

    Or, sometimes it takes a little more time, and some courage, to be with the one you love.

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    02 Mar 2026

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    Rozanov cocked his head. “You speak Russian? Or just the curse words?”

    “Yes, I speak Russian,” he snapped, defensive and angry. He knew that it had been a mistake to even try to be friendly with Rozanov. “Why? Do I not look Russian to you?” He scoffed.

    “No, not really,” Rozanov said. Some of his teammates laughed, although they mostly looked surprised that Shane was speaking to them at all. Rozanov didn’t laugh, though. “Are you Russian?”

    “Go fuck yourself.”

    +++

    Despite an inauspicious start, when Russia’s Ilya Rozanov learns that Canada’s Shane Hollander is fluent in Russian at their first World Junior Championships tournament, it changes everything and sets them on a different course. Instead of being branded as rivals from the very beginning, Ilya and Shane start off as friends.

    And, after all, a little friendly rivalry never hurt anyone, did it?

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    01 Mar 2026

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    Ilya has learned that love gives you time, but it cannot make forever out of two weeks.

    He worries at his bottom lip, feeling the first seeds of dread as he leans against Shane’s bureau. He’s dressed, his bag is zipped, and it’s still dark outside. Shane sleeps, adorably, half on his stomach with his face nearly off the pillow. He didn’t need to get up as early as Ilya. You don’t need to get up as early just to drive someone to the airport.

    It’s 3 am. Ilya’s flight is at 7:30 and they still need to make the two-hour drive.

    OR

    At some point, you have to leave the cottage. Shane drives Ilya to the airport.

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    28 Jan 2026

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    Zhenya was a little embarrassed to admit that part of the reason he had green-lit this trade to Pittsburgh in the first place was because of Crosby himself: his insane hockey, his wolfish smile, the lingering remnants of Zhenya’s boyhood crush. Zhenya propped his stick against the wall and stuck out his hand to shake.

    “Hey,” he said, smiling and hoping it didn’t look too stupid. “Evgeni.”

    But Crosby didn’t take off his gloves and shake hands like Hornqvist had. He waved his hand in apology, thick inside his dirty glove. “Hey,” he replied curtly. “Sid.”

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    13 Jun 2025