Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fandoms:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types, Heated Rivalry (TV), Men's Hockey RPF

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Carter Hart, Shane Hollander, Luca Haas

Additional Tags:

Hockey, NHL | National Hockey League, Fuck Carter Hart, Crack

Language:

English

Series:

Part 17 of Verdant's Heated Rivalry Fics

Stats:

Published: 2026-06-16 Words: 901 Chapters: 1/1

Ottawa Chant: NO MEANS NO

Summary

Fuck Carter Hart. Ilya scores on him repeatedly and Harter Cart cries

Notes

I tried to get this out before the finale, but better late than never.

The bell ringed loud in the Ottawa stadium. The crowd screamed as Ilya did a celly around the opposing team's goal.

Ilya looked back at the Vegas Knight's goalie who's face reddened with anger while Ilya's reddened with exertion and excitement.

"Ah, Hart!" The Knight's head snapped towards Ilya taunting voice. "If you didn't want me to score on you, you should have said!"

Cater Hart's face's flushed hue deepened. The pathetic man publicly raped a young girl with other players and somehow (read: money) convinced a judge to dismiss the case.

But the public knew, the public remembered. Right then, when Ilya Rozanov raised his arms then pointed at the goalie, the Ottawa stadium roared with the chant they've shouted for the last two periods.

"NO MEANS NO! NO MEANS NO! NO MEANS NO!"

Ilya skated backwards as he watched Hart's stick shake with vibrating rage. He laughed and skated a quick loop, waving to the crowd and throwing kisses to them.

Carter Hart positively sucked. To be fair, Vegas putting all their chicks into the Hart basket and basing their trades around him paid off. Hart had broken record after record during this Stanley Final series.

The first ever goaltender in league history to allow at least four goals in five consecutive Stanley Cup Final games.

Truly something for Vegas and Hart to be really proud of.

"Stop showboating, Rozanov."

Ilya turned to his beautiful husband and shrugged dramatically. "What? If they did not want me to chirp him, they should have benched him!"

A reporter asked the Vegas coach if they were going to bring their backup goalie into the crease. The reporter, in turn, basically got called fucking stupid.

Ilya believed the coach was fucking stupid.

Shane laughed and pushed Ilya towards where the refs were setting up the face-off. "You're going to get punched."

"Then you will be my sexy nurse?"

"No, I won't feel bad for you."

Ilya pouted. "You would not defend me?"

Shane leveled a stare at his husband through his visor. "Oh, if he hit you, it would be the last thing Carter Hart would do during this game."

Ilya swallowed hard as his dick twitched in his pants. Fuck, being this hot for your husband when he talked violence should probably worry Ilya. But damn, the idea of Shane Hollander, Canadian Good Boy, beating down a piece-of-shit rapist mid-game? That made Ilya want to fuck him on the ice in front of the crowd.

Shane bent down for the face-off, Ilya to his left. He won the puck, hit it directly to Ilya who slapped the puck towards the Vegas goal.

The buzzer rang through the barn again.

4-1

"What the fuck?!" Haas yelled as he jumped against Ilya's back. "Rozzy, you fucking did that!"

Ilya laughed loudly as the Centaurs crowded around him. Through the bodies, he caught the eye of Carter Hart and throw him a bratty air kiss.

He laughed again as Hart shoved the goal over in anger.

"Beautiful shot," Shane shouted in his ear.

Ilya kissed the side of his helmet. "Beautiful pass."

Ilya panted as he pushed his legs harder, the speed he skated at ruffled the few curls that poked through beneath his helmet. He saw the play, he saw where he wanted the puck.

The only question, could he pull it off?

Ilya dodged an opposing player and whipped around the back of the Vegas' goal. He stretched his arm out, his stick pulled along with the puck in its crook. He flicked his wrist as he lost his balance, tumbling to the ice.

The goal buzzer rang like music to the Russian's ears.

5-1

Ilya pulled himself up easily. He raised an arm in celebration just as someone yanked his jersey from behind.

Ilya turned to face a pissed off Carter Hart. "That was fucking dirty, you Russian fucking pussy."

Such lazy chirps. Hart had no fucking bite left. "What's your problem? If you didn't want me to do cool tricks against you, you should have said."

Hart shoved Ilya away and raised a fist. It was just too easy for Ilya to grab his clenched hand. "If you didn't want me to score on you, Hart, you shouldn't have worn goalie pads. How was I to know that you didn't want me to score?"

Before Hart could respond, a ref shoved between them. "Rozanov, to the face-off. Hart, to the crease."

Ilya skated off without another word. He basked in the crowd's chanting "NO MEANS NO" as he reunited with his team.

Fuck, he loved Ottawa. This was the best team, the best crowd.

As the game closed (7-1 in an unprecedented demolition), gloves, helmets, and sticks littered the ice as the Ottawa Centaurs celebrated their Stanley Cup win for the second year in a row.

It was all thanks to Carter Hard being the worst goalie in NHL Stanley Cup history. Through the celebrations, Ilya caught sight of Hart's face as he skated off the ice. The goalie's mask dangled from his hand as tears streaked down his cheeks. Ilya smirked before grabbing his husband by the waist and smacking a loud kiss on his lips.

"Fuck yeah, Ilya!"

Ilya laughed in joy as the team celebrated. He spared one last victorious glance at the Vegas Knight's bench.

Fuck Carter Hart. Fuck Vegas Knights.

Written by a human in Ellipsus.