Milkshkes



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  1. Public Bookmark 22

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    Shane’s mind was fuzzy. The scratching of skates and the roar of the crowd overwhelmed him, distracted him. His head felt heavy, laden with sounds, not enough space to focus on the game. It felt as if his brain had fogged over suddenly, stopping him from thinking about anything other than how loud everything was.
    Shane felt his brain pulling him back, pulling him away from the game, drawing him into himself. A pressure built up behind his eyes and it was all he could do to not tip forward with the weight, feeling the heaviness of his brain.

    “-ander?”

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    19 Feb 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    The messages were never meant to leave the chat.

    When they do, they expose the racism and homophobia festering inside the Montreal locker room, directed at their own captain.

    In the wake of leaked texts and public speculation, Shane Hollander chooses to go on record. Not to defend his relationship. Not to protect his reputation.

    But to set the timeline straight.

    Eleven years. Three Cups. One secret.

    And a version of events that was never the whole story.

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    19 Feb 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 47

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    Shane becomes sick while they're at the cottage. He spirals about it. Ilya loves him. That's it, that's the fic.

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    18 Feb 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “да?” Ilya began, sounding tired and put-out. Still, he answered. Shane reveled in that fact for the shortest of moments. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make his voice work; he just stared at the phone beside him, eyes wide in fear and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

    A frustrated sigh and shuffling came through the other end. “Какого черта…” said Ilya. “Hollander?”

    __________________________________________

     

    After Shane’s failed attempt at being intimate with Rose, Shane panics and calls the only person he could think of: Ilya. Who he hadn’t spoken to in months.

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    18 Feb 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya hums, playing the card he's been considering for this entire conversation. “We could make more interesting, yes? A bet.”

    “A bet,” Shane repeats, eyes flashing. “Like what?”

    The reporter cuts in. “What about wearing the other player’s jersey?”

    They both turn to her, and Shane says, “Like, the loser wears the winner’s jersey?”

    “Maybe at the next game in a couple of months?”

    “Is a good idea,” Ilya muses, nudging Shane’s elbow. “You will look better in my jersey than in Montreal jersey.”

    Shane makes a low noise, his eyes holding a bit of a spark when he looks back to Ilya. It’s what Ilya was hoping for—the tiniest crack in the mask. He can see a hint of exasperated affection around the corners of Shane’s eyes, a little bit of fire burning just beneath the surface. It sends a thrill down Ilya’s spine, and he wonders if Shane will be snarky when Ilya gets him naked tonight.

    “That’s not happening,” Shane replies, shaking his head. “Because you’re not winning.”

    ---
    Ilya should have known better.

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    18 Feb 2026