Heated Rivalry
-
Before Ilya can bite out a teasing remark at his state, Hollander starts to speak in a jumble of words that seem like they’ve been on the verge of spilling out for a long time. “Don't marry her, Ilya." Hollander says desperately, now using the hold they had on each other for balance just a moment ago, to keep Ilya from running away. “Please, don’t marry her.” “Hollander?” Ilya says the name dumbly, at a loss for how to answer. -- Marrying Svetlana seems like the obvious solution to the growing pile of problems in Ilya's life. It's not like Hollander would care since he's dating one of the biggest movie stars in the world. Right?
- Part 1 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,303
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76719536
-
“We race.” Ilya pushed his shorts down and gripped his cock, smiling when Shane’s eyes dropped down to watch. “You run and I will touch myself. You do not stop, and I will not stop. Deal?” “You’re serious.” Shane huffed and folded his arms. “What happens if I win? If I last longer than you?” “If you win?” Ilya arched an eyebrow towards him. “You get to see me cum.” “Right.” Shane wished his voice hadn’t cracked just then. “And that’s supposed to be a reward?” “Yes.” Ilya bent one knee so his shorts pulled tight across his thighs, across the outline of his cock. “Obviously.” “And if I lose?” Shane swallowed nervously. “If I quit before you’re done. What then?” “...then you get to see me cum.” it came out nearly a growl in Ilya’s thick accent. “As punishment.” “Fuck.” Shane got back on the goddamn treadmill and hit the start button. “Fuck. Fine. Let’s go.”
- Part 1 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,411
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75183431
-
hang up (i'm coming to you) by Raverin2
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-16
Shane ended things with Rose, and then he finds himself in the same city as Ilya. He's not expecting to see him, but he does take a risk… then he bares his soul.
- Part 1 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,249
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75846916
-
June 2014, Las Vegas Post the Las Vegas Scene, sub!Shane drops hard and Dom!Ilya races to save him. **** From Jane: We didn't even kiss Shane didn't mean to send the text. He was so dizzy and cold and unsteady after leaving Ilya's room, he didn't even remember if he HAD sent the text. His fingers were too numb to undo his shirt buttons, he felt like the floor was dropping out from beneath him, he was nauseous and exhausted and didn't know why he couldn't stop shaking, why couldn't he stop shaking...? From Jane: ww dnt v ks The text came through as gibberish, and “Fuck.” Ilya threw his clothes back on and ran to get to Shane's hotel room. He'd been too far in his head to pay attention to Shane being quiet and shivering after they were done. Shane had stumbled getting out of bed, bumped into furniture, struggled with the door and Ilya had heard it but he'd been too much of a coward to get out of bed and check and now his submissive was sending gibberish texts and that wasn't good. “Sorry sorry sorry.” Ilya muttered as he ran. “I’m coming. I’m coming, hold on.”
- Part 2 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,117
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75332731
-
Shane gets drunk, way too drunk, and as they say, drunk words are sober thoughts. Shane has always been more open and unfiltered when drunk, which is why he doesn't drink often, but he needed it… until he's alone with Ilya in his bed in the morning and everything comes back in flashes of pure vulnerability.
- Part 2 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,173
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76004846
-
“Fuck.” Shane melted into the strong hand at his neck, the pressure over his throat and the heat of the Alpha’s palm. “Fuck, that’s–” his eyes started to flutter closed, his knees going weak, but he heard the Alpha huff a laugh and immediately stiffened again.
“Don’t do that.” he warned. “Don’t laugh like me letting you put your hand on my throat is predictable submissive Omega behavior and you're making fun of me."
“That is not why i was laughing.” Ilya squeezed Shane’s throat lightly, his thumb pressing over the suppressant patch covering the Omega's bonding spot and blocking his sweet scent. “I thought you would fight it, fight submitting. But you didn’t.”
“No I–” Shane swallowed hard. “I like it.”
“Good.” Ilya smiled slow and a little dangerous, running his tongue over his bottom lip and then over the sharp ends of his fangs before he leaned in and growled into the Omega’s ear. “Now get on your knees.”
- Part 4 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 146,649
- Chapters:
- 10/10
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76264181
-
A team gathering at Shane and Ilya's cabin leads to three couples being snowed in… except one couple is brand new, happened after everyone went to bed new, and Ilya has some things to say about it. Shane is a tired, but proud, dad, and Ilya is protective. ~~ spoilers relating to The Long Game, not many, but there are book spoilers as this is mostly post The Long Game
- Part 1 of 10 Days of Winter (Hollanov Discord)
- Part 4 of Heated Rivalry
- Part 6 of LucaOc
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,300
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76328936
-
Ottawa, 2010. Canada wins the championship, and Shane slips away from the overwhelming celebration for some peace and quiet. Russia loses, and Ilya runs from his father’s furious disappointment to have a panic attack in the stairwell. Neither boy is really looking for company, but for a tentative few hours in the middle of the night, they find solace, acceptance and a first kiss, first time prelude to something heated and risky in each other’s arms. **** Ilya leaned in with lips pursed and Shane jerked away, “Whoa! What the hell are you doing?” “You do not want kiss?” Ilya frowned. “You stare at my mouth all night, same as after draft. I thought you wanted kiss.” “No.” Shane’s eyes were wide. “That’s insane.” “Okay.” Ilya stood up, hiding how bad the rejection hurt. “I misunderstand. Sorry. Do not worry, I will not say anything about–” “Wait.” Shane’s grabbed Rozanov’s arm at the last second, gathering all his courage, “Y- yes.” “Yes.” Ilya repeated. “What is yes?” “I mean yes.” Shane pulled him back in slowly, carefully, his heart racing. “Kiss me?” January 2010 Ottawa, Canada The party was loud. The championship had been hard won and well earned and the celebration was out of control. The players were cheering, jumping, hugging one another high off the win, the boys were spinning, laughing, shoving one another drunk on the adrenaline, some actually were high off smuggled in weed and others actually were drunk off punch spiked from not very secret flasks, and the coaches and chaperones were all too busy congratulating each other and themselves to pretend to care. Champions. Trophy winners. They were at the top of their game and feeling on top of the world, and the fever pitch excitement combined with the delirious exhaustion of a too long, too intense, too physically mentally emotionally grueling few weeks of tournament shook the walls of the multipurpose conference room on the basement floor of hotel. The noise was deafening, the chaos of it all dizzying, the crush of people and body heat and clamor of conversation suffocating and in the very middle of the room– –in the very middle of the room, team Captain and tournament MVP and all around Canadian Wunderkind Shane Hollander stared down at his glass of electric red punch and tried his fucking hardest not to throw up. “Hollander! We did it! We fucking did it!” Someone pushed into him, fell into him, grabbed him into a messy, sloppy hug and planted a messy, sloppy kiss on his cheek. Teammate. A buddy. Shane had played with him for years. “Shane Hollander! Second in the draft son, good for you! You make us all so proud!” Someone shook his hand, squeezed his palm, pounded at his shoulder. A parent. A chaperone. They’d known Shane since he was sixteen. “Wouldn’t be the player he is without a great coach!” Right in his ear, bellowing over the noise. Shane knew he was supposed to smile, supposed to agree, supposed to pound the no doubt spiked punch and whoop at the top of his lungs and let go – let loose– now that the work was over and the tournament was finished and he had another trophy and medal to put in his room. Instead, “I gotta find the bathroom!” he announced to no one in particular, cos no one fucking cared. They were lost in the party, reveling in the victory, but it was too much hammering against Shane’s head, too much crushing around his body and his stomach was twisting, head pounding, chest too tight, holy shit he had to get out somewhere and get some air. Out of the multipurpose room and into the hall. Down the hall and right past the bathroom. He ditched the cup of punch in the nearest water fountain and broke into a jog down the generically ugly carpeted corridor and by the time he crashed through the door leading to the stairwell, Shane was running. Gasping. He yanked at his tie and scrubbed at his face, rolled his shoulders and popped his neck and told himself to breathe. Started up the stairs to get to his fourteenth floor room and told himself to breathe. Huffed a self deprecating sort of laugh because Shane Hollander jogging up fourteen floors worth of stairs instead of partying with his teammates was exactly the sort of over dedicated, wet blanket, fitness and work ethic obsessed bullshit everyone expected from him so– so whatever. When his parents asked sort of sad and sort of resigned about why he hadn’t stayed to celebrate with his teammates and revel in the end of his juniors era, when they told him he probably should really definitely enjoy these moments of silliness and fun while he still could cos come fall he’d be playing professional and have to lock in, when his parents couldn’t hide how they worried about him isolating and clicked their tongues about him avoiding his long time teammates in favor of running stairs alone, Shane would call it a work out. He’d call it dedication. He’d brush it off and wave them away and tell them he might have gotten second at the draft but he was gonna be first in the league, rookie of the year, and to make that happen, he couldn’t party, he had to train. He certainly wouldn’t tell them how the noisy crowd and pushing unhinged behavior made his skin crawl and lungs seize up and head hurt, no way. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was just dedicated. Just focused. It was fine. He was fine. Nine, ten, eleven, floors up and Shane actually started to feel fine. The stairwell was soothingly monochromatic and cold enough to be clarifying, easing the clamor in Shane’s head until he felt like he could think again. His shoes didn’t make any noise on the concrete steps and landing after corner after landing after corner was empty, the doors to the adjoining halls all closed, it was a half hour till midnight so anyone who wasn’t partying in celebration was sequestered in their rooms mulling over their loss and packing for the trip home. It was nice. Peaceful. Space to move and space to breathe and twelve floors up Shane was starting to feel like maybe he wouldn’t just collapse face first onto his bed and scream, maybe he’d have the mental energy to watch a movie or read a little bit in his book, or– Noise in the stairwell up ahead, and Shane slowed at the door for the thirteenth floor landing, paused waiting to see if he heard the noise again, then peeked around the corner bracing himself so he could try and be passably polite to whoever had inadvertently interrupted his single minded dash up the stairs. Ilya Rozanov. It was Ilya fucking Rozanov sitting just below the next landing blocking the stairwell with his body turned sideways taking up a whole step, an unlit cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other… and tears on his face, reflecting the light from his phone, tracking down his cheek and dripping off his chin, landing wet on the cold concrete below. Shit. Shane came around the corner cautiously, curiously, fidgeting with the string on his hoodie as he asked, “Rozanov?” Ilya jumped when someone spoke at him from just a few feet away. He hadn’t heard any door open, he hadn’t heard any footsteps coming up the stairs and he jumped cursing when the empty echoing cold of the stairwell was shattered by the unexpected intruder.
- Part 5 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,284
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78900926
-
2014: Ilya Rozanov shocks the world and breaks Shane Hollander’s heart by disappearing without explanation, and without a goodbye kiss.
2024: A devastating injury forces Shane to retire early, so he moves to a small town to coach girls hockey and figure out what the hell to do with the rest of his life.
When recently divorced Ilya Rozanov walks into the rink with his twin girls, Shane has to decide if he’s brave enough to risk a second chance on a broken heart, and a rekindled romance with the first and only boy he ever loved.
***
“So.” Ilya cleared his throat. “Should we tell the girls their Daddy and their coach used to date?”
“We didn’t date. We hooked up a few times, then you disappeared.” Shane looked away to hide his heartbreak as he lied, “It doesn’t even matter. It’s not like I loved you or anything.”
“No, of course not.” Ilya tried to smile through a lie of his own, “I didn’t love you either.”
- Part 6 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 566,746
- Chapters:
- 29/?
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #79333006
-
Vibrate by NotEvenCloseToStraight
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-02-13
One day, Shane will learn not to take the “you are scared.” bait from Ilya. Today is not that day. **** From Jane: I’m just saying it doesn’t sound real. Sounds like exaggerated porn stuff. From Lily: You don’t think I could make you cum with remote control vibrator in your ass. From Jane: Wearing one of those in public wouldn’t be a turn on, it would be too stressful. Can’t relax enough to get off if you’re worried about someone noticing or figuring it out or whatever. From Lily: Only one way to find out. From Jane: What, you’re gonna buy one of those things and have me wear it in public and try to make me cum? From Lily: Is okay. You are scared to try. From Jane: I’m not scared! From Lily: Prove it. It started out as a perfectly normal conversation. From Jane: You played a good game tonight. From Lily: Dumb boring text. Try again. From Jane: You would have scored at 4:26 in the third if you’d won the faceoff. You lost just under twenty four seconds chasing after the puck before getting it back, that gave the goalie time to adjust and prepare for you. From Lily: What the fuck. From Jane: Yeah, you should have just taken the original compliment. Ilya could practically see the dorky little smirk Shane would have on his stupid beautiful face after that last text, he knew Shane would be tickled fucking pink feeling like he’d gotten the last word in. No matter it was about the tamest of tame chirps, no matter that Shane showing off his IQ by analyzing Ilya’s play down to the second was really just proving that he watched Ilya play every time they weren’t playing against one another. Ilya knew Shane would be smirking maybe even grinning down at the phone feeling awfully proud of himself for getting so snarky and well, that was just unacceptable. From Lily: Here’s a different twenty four seconds for you to think about. The clip was right off of Ilya’s favorite porn site. Not that he spent much time looking at porn anymore, cos replaying the noises Shane made when they checked each other on the ice or closing his eyes and imagining Shane’s eyes closed with Ilya’s cock between his lips was more than enough to get Ilya up and finishing these days, but Ilya still had a favorite site and had a favorite few videos and the almost thirty second clip he’d saved on his phone a while back was exactly the perfect thing to disrupt Shane’s smug little bout of self satisfaction. It wasn’t anything overly explicit. It wasn’t even necessarily hot outside of the context of the whole video. Ilya sent it anyway, then added a cheeky ‘sound up’ reminder, and put his phone away to go take a shower. From Jane: Don’t send me amateur porn, that’s weird. It’s like engaging in someone’s kink without them knowing. From Jane: But I guess if they post it they consent to us watching it? Idk. Weird maybe. From Jane: Also, what is happening here? It’s a guy fully dressed in a suit in a crowded room. He’s hot, sure, but I don’t get it. From Jane: Wait, did he just cum? That’s an orgasm face. Did he just cum in public, why is he– From Jane: THE GUY FILMING HIM HAS A REMOTE FOR A VIBRATOR From Jane: DID THAT GUY JUST CUM FROM A VIBRATOR IN HIS ASS IN PUBLIC?! Ilya had a dozen different texts waiting for him when he got done with the shower and he grinned reading through them, watching Shane go from predictably huffy about the video to full on stunned by it. From Lily: Nice, right? From Jane: I mean. No. Cos I feel like it’s not real. From Lily: Not real? That is ugliest most brutal orgasm face ever, is definitely real. From Jane: Just seems like its exaggerated for porn or kink or whatever. It started out as a perfectly normal conversation, but it very quickly escalated the way things between them always tended to very quickly escalate. From Lily: What, you don’t think I could make you cum with remote control vibrator in your ass. From Jane: No. Definitely not. From Lily: ?? From Jane: Vibe pressure on prostate probably wouldn’t be enough to finish. From Lily: You never know until you try. From Jane: Plus wearing one of those in public wouldn’t be a turn on, it would be too stressful. Can’t relax enough to get off if you’re worried about someone noticing or figuring it out or whatever. From Jane: He was faking. Obviously. From Lily: Only one way to find out. From Jane: One way to find out what? Are you gonna buy one of those things and have me wear it in public and try to make me cum? From Lily: Is okay. You are scared to try. From Jane: I’m not scared! From Lily: Okay. Square up then. From Jane: Square up?! What does that mean?! From Lily: Prove it. Next week is fundraiser gala. You wear the vibrator, I’ll keep the remote.
- Part 7 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,610
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79405206
-
mistletoe and new year kisses by Raverin2
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-01-01
Ilya's mad that he hasn't gotten to kiss his own husband under the mistletoe. Unbeknownst to him, that's by design because Shane has a surprise.
- Part 7 of 10 Days of Winter (Hollanov Discord)
- Part 9 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,153
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76842471
-
Shane finds himself thinking, wishing, hoping, for more than shadows with Ilya after leaving his hotel room during the All Stars. He makes the decision to come out on Instagram, belatedly coming out to his parents in a text, and then goes down to hit the punching bag in the hotel gym until his brain fizzles into a decision about Ilya. He's alone for long enough, but Ilya stays afterwards.
- Part 12 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,305
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77308211
-
gold in the offering by spelling__bee
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-26
"You and Svetlana. When you - I mean, you don't have to tell me any details, obviously. But do you use condoms, with her?" This must be a translation issue, Ilya thought wildly. He'd missed something crucial.
- Part 4 of
- Part 1 of prompt fills
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,208
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #80272711
-
Ten minutes into the drive back to his cottage, Shane carefully signals and pulls over onto the shoulder of the empty road, then slumps over with his forehead on the wheel.
- Part 3 of
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,840
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79629061