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    [Shane Hollander is dressed in shorts and a tank top as he sits on a yoga mat in his backyard. Anya, his dog, shared with his husband, Ilya Rozanov, runs around in the background, a large stick in her mouth.]

    Ilya: [off camera] How long is this going to take?

    Shane: I dunno. Half an hour? Harris just said he needed a few different yoga poses. He’s highlighting what different players on the team do for exercise.

    Ilya: So, I have to sit here and watch you narrate a whole yoga routine?

    Shane: Yes.

    Ilya: Being married is fun.

    [Shane glares and flips off the camera. Anya can be heard barking happily.]

    Ilya: Isn’t yoga supposed to make you calm? You do not seem very calm.

    Shane: Let’s just get this over with.

    Ilya: Now you are speaking my language.

    Language:
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    17 May 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    LaPointe: omg lol can you imagine

    LaPointe: luca brings his mystery man along next week for the hard launch

    LaPointe: and it’s cliff fucking marleau

    LaPointe: now that would really be a hollander/rozanov manoeuvre lmao    

    Crack/Texting fic. Cliff Marleau is dating Luca Haas. Ilya has some feelings about it.

    Language:
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    2,575
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    17 May 2026

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    ilya rozanov and all the numbers he texts shane hollander over the years, including but not limited to: hotel room numbers, hockey stats, and secret sappy messages.

    OR: shane knows when that hotline blings, that can only mean one thing.

    Language:
    English
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    3,336
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    1/1
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    51
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    17 May 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    The pounding on the door is what jolts Shane awake. Instinctively he tries to jump to his feet and rush to get it, but a heavy weight around his torso and on top of his legs prevents him from moving. As consciousness slowly returns to him, breaking through the haze of his hangover—and possible still-drunken state—he realizes that he is being held by Rozanov.

    “Shane Hollander, open the door, now!”

    “Oh my god, oh my fucking god. Jesus fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking hell. That is my fucking mother.”

    OR

    After getting drunk at the 2016 NHL Awards, Shane Hollander wakes up married to Ilya Rozanov

    Series
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    17 May 2026

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    For a moment, nothing happens. Then, about thirty seconds later, Ilya blinks once, then again, his expression tightening as confusion slowly takes over, trying to make sense of something that’s supposed to be impossible. Shane immediately knows he’s freaking out.

    You’re freaking out right now, aren’t you? Please don’t freak out. Because if you freak out, then I’m going to freak out.

    “What the fuck?” Ilya yells, as he jerks back like he’s been burned, his hand ripping away from Shane’s ankle. His irises dart left to right crazily, locked in on Shane’s face as he searches for something. Shane stays silent. “What the fuck was that?”

    OR: Shane and Ilya develop telepathy while being in a situationship. It goes as well as you’d expect.

    Language:
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    17 May 2026