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The Ford is a rusted-out red bucket, the tent is a mess of orange nylon, and the Norwegian woods are a lot steeper than they looked on the map. The wilderness doesn't care about NHL standings, and right now, it’s winning. For six years, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov have lived in the quiet of hotel rooms and the heat of the game. But here, far away from the cameras and the crowds, their guard is finally starting to drop. Between charred sausages, a ruined pair of sneakers, and a leaking tent, they are running out of ways to hide from the truth. As the summer ends, they have to decide if they are brave enough to stop being rivals and start being something else entirely. The morning is quiet. The grass is grey with dew as they pull out of the driveway, the air cool enough to make Shane shiver. He’d insisted on renting this red Ford—a rusted-out bucket that he called "the authentic experience"—and it coughs as Ilya hits the street. Ilya looks at the dashboard like it’s a personal insult. Shane knows he’s thinking about his Ferrari. Shane watches Ilya’s profile in the dim light. He listens to the engine’s uneven beat and almost hopes the car just stops. A stall would freeze the world right here. It would keep them trapped in the smell of old upholstery and cold air, holding the moment still before the real world starts calling them back. A bottle of bug spray rattles in the door, breaking the silence. Shane reaches out to steady it and glances at the mess in the back seat. Tents, sleeping bags, and groceries are piled to the roof. It’s a disaster, honestly. They leave the city behind, passing quiet streets where only a few windows are lit. Shane leans his head against the glass. For six years, this is all they’ve had: fast, desperate nights in hotel rooms in cities like Detroit or Columbus. Quick sex after games where they spent an hour trying to smash each other into the boards. Even then, Ilya always made a point of pinning Shane down. Shane can still feel it if he closes his eyes: the silver cross Ilya wears dangling cold against his skin, and the sound of Ilya’s ragged breath in his ear. He loves it—the feeling of being held there by someone who actually can. Shane smiles at his reflection. He definitely has a thing for being pinned down. Lately, though, it’s been different. The hotel rooms turned into tuna melts in Ilya’s Boston apartment and long nights on his massive sofa. And Shane, being Shane, freaked out. He remembers storming out of Ilya’s place, stammering some lie about an early practice while trying not to see the hurt in Ilya’s eyes. Maybe Ilya can feel him starting to spiral again, because he suddenly reaches across the gearbox and takes Shane’s hand. The shift happened so slowly Shane didn't even notice. Ilya Rozanov—the arrogant Russian superstar who can score fifty goals or bruise Shane’s hips with the same ease—has become something else. Shane doesn’t have a name for it yet. He just knows he somehow ended up asking Ilya to come to Norway. He blames the drugs they gave him in the hospital after his last concussion. They were good drugs. He still remembers Ilya visiting him in that white, sterile room, his large hand brushing Shane's cheek. It was the only thing that felt real. Now, though, he’s stone-cold sober and terrified. Coming out has never felt like an option. Not in their world. The locker room is still a place where "faggot" is a punchline and any sign of being "soft" is a target. Even with guys like Scott Hunter leading the way, the fear is still there, eating at him. Every time he thinks about the flight back, a knot tightens in his chest. The new season is waiting for them, and the questions won't stop looping: What if Ilya decides this is too much work? What if the distance and the risk aren't worth it? Or worse—what if he stays, and ends up in a grey interrogation room back home because he’s been "corrupted" by a Canadian? It sounds like a bad Cold War parody, but the fear is real. Shane is most definitely freaking out. Again. Ilya strokes the back of Shane’s hand with his thumb. He meets Shane’s gaze, and his eyes are uncharacteristically kind. Fuck. Maybe it will be easier in the woods, away from the slurs and the cameras. He hopes so. Because when this car eventually turns back toward the airport, summer is over. The world will expect them to be rivals again. Just the thought of it makes it hard to breathe. *** “We should’ve bought the one that expands,” Ilya says. “Like fucking Transformer.” He sounds just as pissed off as he does after a missed breakaway in the third period. They’re parked at the base of a trail that goes straight up the mountain. The plan was simple: pitch the tent, look like they know what they’re doing, and start hiking before lunch. Instead, it’s a total disaster. This tent—bought during a rush of "we’re going to be outdoorsmen" energy in Oslo—is more complicated than any play Shane has ever seen on a whiteboard. Shane leans against the rusted Ford and just watches him. He can’t help but smirk. Ilya Rozanov, who can deke out the world’s best defenders, is currently losing a fight to a pile of orange nylon. His hair is a mess, and he’s somehow managed to tangle a cord around his ankle like a trap. For a guy who spent the whole flight acting like a mountain was just another challenge to beat, Ilya looks exactly like what he is: a prince from Moscow who grew up in five-star hotels. He knows as much about the woods as Shane knows about Russian opera. In the NHL, someone else handles everything. Someone else books the flights, carries the bags, and makes sure the towels are warm. Out here, there’s no PR team to make their incompetence look like "grit." “The box said it’s a four-man tent,” Shane says, holding the manual. It’s written entirely in Norwegian. “Only if those four men are very small,” Ilya mutters, “and have no personal boundaries at all.” He gives the fabric a shove and looks up at the grey peaks and the endless trees. “Seriously, Hollander. You bring me to the edge of the world just to prove we are both idiots?” “I think we bought a garden ornament,” Ilya adds, kicking a pole. “Not a shelter.” “Maybe it’s a test,” Shane says. It’s the kind of empty encouragement he usually uses in the locker room when they’re down by three. “If we survive the tent, we might survive the trip.” That arrogant grin flickers across Ilya’s face—the one that’s way too charming to ignore. It makes it hard for Shane to keep his guard up.
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- English
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- 4,610
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- 1
- AO3:
- #76725426
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Shane’s cheeks burned red and he turned away from him, “sorry that I'm so boring all the time,” “Mmh, not all the time,” Ilya smiled deviously, “sometimes you are very fun,” The shorter raised an eyebrow at him, “yeah? And what are those times?” “When we fuck,”
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- AO3:
- #76726856
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“M’ sorry, I’m sorry”, Shane whimpers, “Jus’ needed something dirty, couldn’t smell you on your clothes. Smelt bad, smelt wrong. M’ sorry, m’ sorry-” “Is okay, my love”, Ilya reassures, trying desperately to focus on comforting Shane, eyes zeroing in on the way his husband’s legs have fallen open, revealing Shane’s tuft of dark pubic hair and the shimmer of slick on his protruding labia, “What do you need, moy lyubimyy?” Ilya asks, “Tell me- and I will get it for you” Or Shane wants Ilya's dirty clothes for his nest.
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- AO3:
- #76705481
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Shane, who has been in the process of unmasking his autism after his very late diagnosis post- retirement, comes across a fun new problem: verbal shutdowns in bed. Ilya helps him calm down and navigate newly discovered terrain.
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- English
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- AO3:
- #76730191
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“I missed you,” Shane's voice was soft, vulnerable, as he held the other closer to him. “I missed you a lot, Ilya.” “You mean you miss playing hockey with me?" Ilya's voice sounded teasing, but Shane shook his head in response. “Well, that, too, but mostly you. Just you.” Or, Shane is injured and Ilya takes care of him
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- AO3:
- #76736411
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Ilya has never enjoyed seeing Shane cry in the past, but he has never made him do so on purpose before. Watching Shane’s chest heave, out of breath and easy to tease and eyes just watery enough that Ilya’s imagination takes them several steps into the future, he thinks that he would like to. Ilya fucks Shane until he cries.
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- English
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- AO3:
- #76739881
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Lucky Draw by thatadrenalinejunkie
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-30
With a sudden growl of frustration—only half-fake— Ilya sweeps the cards off the couch in one dramatic motion. Before Shane can even protest, Ilya’s crawling across the cushions, pushing Shane onto his back and settling over him. Shane yelps, laughing. “Hey—!” But the sound cuts off with a soft gasp when Ilya dips down and starts kissing along his neck, slow and thorough. One of Ilya’s hands braces next to Shane’s head, the other slides under his Henley, palm against the soft skin of Shane’s stomach. Shane drops the remaining cards instantly, his hands flying to Ilya’s waist. His breath stutters as Ilya noses along the curve of his neck, lips brushing just beneath his ear. “You’re such a sore loser,” Shane breathes, but he tilts his head anyway, baring more skin, welcoming him in. Ilya grins against him, victorious. -- Or, the one where Ilya and Shane get to ring in the New Year together for the first time.
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- English
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- 4,249
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- AO3:
- #76740141
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Rozanov was fucking him carelessly, roughly and with both hands gripping his pelvis. Shane tried his best to meet the movements, take each burning sensation washing over him but it was too much and too little, leaving him whining hopelessly. ”Shut up, pet. I’m watching the game”, Rozanov groaned and Shane felt the palm pressing the back of his head. He couldn’t see the tv, what was happening there but was nearly euphoric under the dominant touch. Or: Shane had nothing in common with the hockey player, he just drifted there, under him
- Part 1 of hollanov x anger
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- English
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- AO3:
- #76730216
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‘You are so greedy for me, princess.’ Shane’s eyes flicked open immediately. ‘What?’ he asked, shock clear in his voice. Or— Ilya wants to make Shane blush.
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- English
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- AO3:
- #76731046
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me and my wild boy, and all of this wild joy by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-30
All in all, it could have been worse.
It’s not like you can measure the full length of Shane’s dick, or see the exact moment that Ilya swallows down the mess of spit and his own cum from Shane’s mouth after he sucked the life out of him.
It’s just, well, everything else.
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- English
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- 4,455
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- 4 versions
- AO3:
- #76704901
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“What is this ‘ball and chain’?” Ilya frowned. Ilya's teammate grinned. “Wife. Girlfriend. Nagging you. Controlling. No fun allowed.”
- Part 1 of cobblestone (hollanov fics)
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- English
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- 1/1
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- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76712676
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He spots the note, finally. It was half-hidden under the packing peanuts. So you do not wake the hotel next time. “Fucking asshole,” Shane says into the quiet. His heart is pounding. There’s no one there to see, but he feels raw and exposed. He’s standing in his kitchen holding a fucking ball gag that Ilya Rozanov sent him. A ball gag in Boston Raiders colors: red and gold and black. -- Ilya sends Shane sex toys.
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- English
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- 6,910
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- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76005466
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Ilya tries to breathe. Shane is the one who panics. In fact, Ilya has been so calm over the past hour. So, so calm. Soooooooo so so so amazingly calm that maybe Shane will reward him with a very nice blowjob later. Ilya has been calm because Shane needs a rock to lean on, but Shane is gone and now Ilya is panicking. This is his only chance to rectify the first, shirtless impression he made on Shane’s father. “Do you still read New Yorker?” OR: Ilya, on the confluence of Shane with David, Yuna, and Svetlana.
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- English
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- 6,563
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- 3/3
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- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76703756
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“Say yes,” Rozanov says, his tone almost pleading, something that might pique Shane’s curiosity if he wasn’t currently burning. Shane breathes in Rozanov’s scent directly from his throat, letting the right good yes alpha feelings wash over him. He’s been taking care of himself for so long—so many years drudging through his heat never feeling truly satisfied—would it be so bad to take what Rozanov is offering? Would it be so bad to overlook the why and just take for once in his life? Shane feels like another person entirely when he breathes out a quiet, “Yes.” “Then come, omega,” Rozanov hums. “Let’s get you fucked.” OR Shane uses a heat app for the first time.
- Part 1 of just this once
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- English
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- AO3:
- #76621911
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Alpha’s don't get pregnant. Or at least, they don't normally get pregnant. Most of the time an Alpha interested in getting pregnant will opt to transition to an Omega (or get themselves Bitched) in order to have a baby. But after retirement… Shane really wants a baby. He wants Ilya’s baby. There's nothing stopping them now, no modeling no hockey, nothing. And Shane is so fixated on it. He knows there's an extremely low chance that he'll ever take, but Ilya’s been down to help make Shane's dream happen.
- Part 2 of alpha² hollanov
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- English
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- 1
- AO3:
- #76669026
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stars fading but i linger on by princebutt
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-29
“I fucking said ‘hands’ Rozanov! Are you going to stand there day dreaming or come and run this hot food, for fuck’s sake!” The words jolt Ilya out of his revere, and he scoffs in the direction of the expo window. It sits far enough back from the dining room that (hopefully) the guests didn’t hear that little outburst, but close enough to his bar that he (unfortunately) did hear it. “What a fucking asshole,” Ilya mumbles to Svetlana, the server picking up his gorgeous old fashioned from the bar and balancing it with two soda waters on her cocktail tray. --- OR, Shane owns an upscale japanese restaurant in Ottawa. Ilya bartends there.
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- English
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- 5,120
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- 1
- AO3:
- #76627991
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all the things he did by blankjournals
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-29
4 times Shane was strict with Ilya and the 1 time he wasn't ft Ilya having an emotional crisis over it. OR: inspired by the tweet: ilya actually love having a strict boyfriend. like no his bitch do not let him have friends NO he not allowed to be out past 11 and NO U CANNOT SIT HERE!!! Translation in Russian and Mandarin!
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- English
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- 6,451
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- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76680321
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"I think we make this game more interesting," Ilya said, and that got Shane's attention. "Whoever loses has to wear the winner's jersey after the game, yes?" -- Ilya and Shane agree before their game that the loser is going to wear the winner's jersey after the game. Ilya likes seeing his name on Shane's back a little too much.
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- English
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- 3,118
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- 1
- AO3:
- #76658541
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Ilya and Shane celebrate a significant anniversary.
- Part 51 of Hockey Time!
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- English
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- 3,559
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- AO3:
- #76624561
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He goes to the bed. Hollander comes to him, presses his face to Ilya's groin without being asked. His eyes are closed. He's breathing on the hot line of Ilya's dick, like this is the only place he wants to be. Fuck. Fuck. Ilya blindly reaches for his glass. His fingers, cool and wet. He nudges at the corner of Hollander’s mouth, and Hollander tilts his face toward him, opens up. Lets Ilya rub vodka into the warm hollow of his tongue.
- Language:
- English
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- 1,172
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- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76634856