WinMin_Trash



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  1. Rec *

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    “Uh,” he says, looking up from his screen and feeling his ears go hot, realizing for the first time that this habit of his hasn’t actually come up before until this exact moment.

    “What?” Rozanov asks, sounding more amused than anything else. “You are one of the people who does Instagram for food now?”

    “No,” Shane says, stalling between answering and finishing his Snap so he can send it to Melissa, “one sec.” He finishes typing out 'Tuna melt. Chips. Pickles. It smells really good. Swiss cheese, I think.' before he looks back to Rozanov, putting his phone facedown on the coffee table. “Just sending it to someone on the staff. She likes knowing what I’m eating.”

    He doesn’t know if Melissa likes knowing what he’s eating, per se, but she also seems pleased when he talks about enjoying food for things beyond how many grams of protein it has in it.

    “Ah,” Rozanov says, in a tone Shane can’t quite read. “You always send her your food then, this girl?”

    (shane has a habit of sending his team's dietician his meals for approval) (the problem with this habit? he forgets to tell ilya exactly what it is that melissa does) (how the tuna meltdown is AVERTED through the power of miscommunication)

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    04 Jul 2026

  2. Rec *

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    The square in front of the rink was plastered with posters of the players, ticket prices, and the location of games. Nowhere was there a poster of the Montreal Mighties because the team Shane played for was, according to everyone in that building, not the main attraction.

    After all, it didn't matter that in their last game Shane scored more goals in the first period than most do all game, or that he won every face off, or that he can out-skate anyone on any of the teams in his league. No, what mattered was that three months before his rookie year his traitorous body pushed itself into a heat and any chance he had of playing pro had vanished with it. No pro team wanted to sign him, even when he’d been in the running for first draft pick, and he’d taken up the only offer he did get from the Montreal Mighties because it was close to home and it allowed him to be close, if not a part of, the sport he’d dedicated his whole life to.

    Then he gets the call from All-Stars. The catch? His captain is the obnoxiously perfect alpha Ilya Rozanov.

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    01 Jul 2026

  3. Rec *

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    Under the leather coat Ilya had shrugged off and above his missing shoe was a familiar glass plaque, familiar because he had the same trophy at home in his trophy room, First Draft Pick for the NHL. Shane felt stomach acid churning in his gut and something close to panic seemed to claw up his insides.

    “Tell me you’re not Ilya Rozanov.” Shane demanded. “Tell me I didn’t fuck a rookie.”

    Not just any rookie, but the rookie Shane had avoided looking at, thinking about, or researching for the sole reason that they called him "Hollander Come Again.” Shane hadn’t even left the ice yet and they were already trying to replace him with a younger model, apparently an unparalleled talent from Russia whose scores in the Juniors had kissed Shane’s records in a way that a rookie hadn’t in the almost decade since Shane set them. He was going to be sick.

    “You did not fuck rookie, rookie fucked you.” Ilya Rozanov said and Shane moaned, this time in a growing despair because not only was his replacement maybe better than him, he was also a fucking asshole about it too.

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    01 Jul 2026

  4. Rec *

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    After a year with the Bears, Ilya felt like he had a solid rotation in place. Svetlana, when she was in town, a med-student named Kelly who had a sex swing installed in her apartment, Heather, who liked to play hard to get but also had a robust collection of toys.

    And then there was Shane. And Shane's daughter.

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    30 Jun 2026

  5. Rec *

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    Shane's first mistake was going to talk to Ilya Rozanov before their game. His second was immediately, stupidly, meeting the eyes of Rozanov’s very much dead mother hovering at his side.

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    28 Jun 2026