321 – 340 of 547 Works in Anxious Shane Hollander
- Anxious Shane Hollander ×
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I was drowning (you pulled me out) by VKookies_ot7
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-12
4 times Shane kept it for himself, 1 time he didn't have to. or Shane struggles 4 times and 1 time Ilya is here to help.
- Part 1 of Hollanov
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,025
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77579576
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“It’s one of your superstitions, right?” Hayden asked. “Like my hat. It’s your good luck shirt.” Shane felt a chill run down his spine. He hadn’t thought anyone would notice. In truth, he’d barely noticed himself. It wasn’t something he was actively doing. It wasn’t like his weight circuit or his diet or his night routine. It wasn’t meditation or yoga or cross-training. Those were all things he did with meticulous, painstaking purpose. This was just… this was something else. This wasn’t thought driven. If he was being honest, it barely had to do with hockey. It maybe was one of the only things in his life that didn’t have to do with hockey. If he was stressed, he wore the shirt and it made him feel a little bit better. It just so happened that most of the time he was stressed about something to do with hockey. That was it. It was just a feeling. A feeling of calm that came from Ilya Rozanov’s shirt. OR: Shane accidentally wore Ilya's shirt back to the hotel after it things started to feel Too Real. What if he kept the shirt? OR: 5 Times Someone Noticed Shane's New Favorite Shirt + 1 Time Shane Realized Ilya Still Had His Too
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,936
- Chapters:
- 6/6
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76991256
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Before Shane loses his nerve, he goes to give the water back to Rozanov. This time, when Rozanov intentionally puts his fingers over Shane's own, his senses come alive. It heats him up from the inside. This overwhelming urge to touch, to kiss, to be touched. He wanted Rozanov to touch him. Or: the one where Shane is tired of being boring.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,455
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77466631
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was i made from a broken mold? by Literal_Multifandom_Trashcan
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-11
Shane pulled out the vodka handle, wiping the dust off. He stared at it for a long moment. Shane rarely drank hard liquor. It made his head spin and his stomach uncomfortable, wasn’t worth all the extra calories. Wasn’t even really meant to drink on his meds, but. It would make him feel worse. It would make him feel like absolute shit. And that was exactly what Shane was counting on. So he had stumbled over to the bathroom, flipped on the dim overhead light, sunk to the bathroom floor, and drank. or: shane hollander gets super drunk on the bathroom floor after a really bad few days. it is not fun for anyone involved, but luckily ilya is there to pick up the pieces
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,618
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77473631
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Time was doing that thing again. The medics should be here by now. The rubber band was pulling back, everything in slow motion, everything but Shane and Ilya. Ilya, whose brusque, lofty demeanor could occupy a whole room, who was so still and not lofty now, whose head was bleeding onto Shane's lap. I needed whump & hospitals so I wrote it Shane had seen bodies before. Not like, mid-emergency-situation, but suited up and made up and already in caskets. Just two. Not people he really knew. His grandmother, when he was 8. He'd only met her a couple of times. Her glossy red-oak coffin had been mounted on a wheeled table and someone had lifted him up to look at her. He vaguely remembered the soft, cotton-candy tufts of hair puffed up around her bland face; how pale she was, how old-looking. He hadn't formed a clear enough memory of her alive to know whether or not she looked like herself going into the ground. What he remembered most about that funeral was his mother crying very quietly against his father's shoulder. His mom never cried. In eighth grade, his art teacher, Renee, died suddenly. He was already on his way to giving up on art, as hockey took center-stage in his life, but he hadn't told her yet. She was well-loved. Kind of an odd woman, freer with her feelings and affection than Shane expected people to be, easy to amuse and always light on her feet. He guessed her family was the same way, because her daughters held an open-casket funeral right there in the school auditorium and invited anyone who wanted to come. Shane couldn't imagine inviting a whole school to look at his dead mom. Shane's parents took him. He hadn't known what he would feel; of course he was sad that she was gone--they'd had a rapport, and she really liked Shane, even though he wasn't all that good at art. But he didn't know her. His father stayed in line with him for the viewing while his mother made the rounds, socializing and offering condolences and sharing memories. It had seemed strange to get in line for something like this. To say goodbye. But that was what people were doing, and Shane Hollander went with the flow. He remembered this funeral because he hated it. Everything leading up to the viewing was fine. A little sad. Nothing unexpected. Students hung their art on a corkboard and a few people spoke. Her daughters spoke. Shane thought about how it would feel if it was his mom. That made him sad. But the viewing wasn't exactly sad. He didn't know what the word for it was. It was...uncanny, maybe. He hated it. Renee still had her long, light hair, blonde struck through with coarse silver. She was dressed in an outfit that she would have worn to school. Patterned dress, layers, heeled boots with laces, a yellow scarf around her neck. Her nails were painted a glossy red. They shone where her hands were crossed over her stomach. Shane heard someone behind him say, they did a wonderful job. She could just be sleeping. But Shane didn't agree. Renee was not sleeping. Renee was not even Renee. She looked like a puppet of herself. The light was gone out of her. The color of her skin was wrong in a way Shane couldn't quite identify. Her hands were stiff, forced together, and he couldn't believe they were the same hands that he'd seen at the pottery wheel in class, shaping soggy lumps of clay into trinket trays. It was the first time in his life that Shane had gotten a glimpse of what death actually meant. That a person could truly stop existing. His teacher had been there one day, a whirl of life and energy and laughter, and now her body was still here, but she was gone from it. It had made him feel sick. The only saving grace was that her eyes were closed. He didn't think he could stand to see her eyes. He dreamed of her dead eyes opening for a week afterward, of a glazed stare with nothing behind it. The dreams weren't about Renee, exactly, but more about death in general; the absence of life; the fragility of physicality. It wasn't a dramatically life-altering experience. There was no epiphany, no sudden surge of energy that propelled Shane into pouring all his energy into hockey, into living, into embodying his physical form for as short a time as he might have it. It was just a moment in time. A subtle shift in worldview. One of the many maturities a person accumulates as they grow up. Everyone confronts death for the first time some time. The only thing was, Shane didn't expect to be doing it again so soon. He was twenty-four. He hadn't thought of his grandmother or Renee in years. Had no reason to. But he was thinking of them now, while he stared at Ilya lying prone on the ice. Hockey wasn't the most dangerous team sport--that honor probably went to football, or maybe rugby, Shane honestly didn't know--but it wasn't easy on a person, either. Everyone knew someone who knew someone who had at least been disabled by an on-ice accident. And there were the horror stories, the rare deaths, the skate-slashing and head-banging and high-speed collisions. Two bodies slamming into each other at 25 MPH was not a pretty sight. Ilya's body. It occurred to Shane that he hadn't moved in some time. It couldn't have been very long-- there hadn't been a surge of movement from the crowd yet, no follow-up to the hushed gasp that Ilya's collapse had warranted. But it felt, suddenly, like time had caramelized, and Shane was stuck in it. He was looking at Ilya, whose eyes were closed, and around whom Harris was flitting frantically, and around whose head a dark puddle had begun to form, oozing out from the place Ilya's helmet had been knocked off, and he was telling himself to move, to go across the rink and check on him, but time would not let him. Until it did. The universe snapped back like a rubber band. It had slowed only long enough for Shane to set his sights on his target, the way the world slowed when he was about to take a shot, and as soon as it let him go, he was catapulting across the ice, probably dangerously fast, but he didn't care. He was in the zone. Stray players who had only just begun to realize what happened, who were slowly turning around to look at Ilya and then at Shane, were obstacles he easily avoided. The path lit up before him like magic. It had always been this way with hockey, with skating, and now it was this way with Ilya, too. He made it before anyone else did. Except Harris, of course, who had hit Ilya, accidentally. Harris was bent at the waist, hands on his knees, wheezing from the impact and trying to say Rozanov. "Get out of the way," Shane snapped, and didn't look around to see Harris comply. He knelt beside Ilya. His eyes went first to his hands. It wasn't a choice. He wanted to look at Ilya's face, to see if his eyes were open. But he couldn't do it yet. It was too scary. Hands first. Rozanov's hands were crossed over his stomach, and an image of Renee's superimposed itself over them, glossy red fingernails, plastic-y dead skin. Shane's breath left him. But Ilya's hands were clenched and twitching. Holding himself. Not dead. Not still. Not yet. That made it safe enough to look higher. His eyes were closed, his helmet half-off. He'd been taking it off when Harris slammed into him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,141
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77509111
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Shane is prepared for it, of course. After a million analyses, one thing is clear: following Rozanov’s lead in the first part of the game gives him the best chance of winning. So. That's what he does—he follows, and he hides a quiet grin in the collar of not his hoodie, seeing Rozanov furrowing his brows as he analyses Shane's movements with brutal ferocity, probably wondering why Shane is playing so passively. Child chess prodigies Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov grow into being grandmasters. Their rivalry grows during chess tournaments and also makes them feel something more, especially since Rozanov somehow can quieten Shane's anxiety.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,318
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77510646
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Shane keeps telling himself that today should have been a good day. There's just one thing, one single moment, his brain won't stop thinking about.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,668
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77493561
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The thing is, Shane's gone non-verbal a few times now to not be scared by it and just ignore it until he feels good again. It usually happened when he was stressed, overwhelmed or overthinking, sometimes all three at the same time when he played a bad game and analyzed it a million times until he figured out exactly what he needed to practice on for the next few days. This time though, Shane was absolutely not stressed, everything was perfect so it made no sense for him to suddenly feel this. He's been at the cottage with Ilya for almost two weeks now, all they've done is talk, swim, fuck and eat, it's been so good, he's had no stress so why was he feeling this enormous pang of discomfort?
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,428
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77511466
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Shane Hollander hated changes. Changes brought him anxiety and panic attacks. Coming out to his parents like this changed everything. This is a story set at the cottage after Shane and Ilya had their dinner with Shane's parents and it looks into Shane's anxiety caused by his dad walking in on them.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,384
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77495821
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lost color in my face by Pale_Blue
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-11
“Do not worry,” Ilya breathed against his lips. As if Shane had a choice in the matter. As if worry hadn’t kept Shane awake past midnight for weeks, as if he wasn’t scared to leave the house for too long in case Ilya did something stupid in his absence. He’d promised he wouldn’t. Several times over. Shane wanted to believe him, he did, but the worse Ilya’s depression got the more hollow the promise felt. “I always worry about you,” Shane said softly, pushing Ilya’s hair back from his forehead.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,446
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77500956
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Honestly, it was a miracle they had won the Cup this past season, with how divided the team had become. And it was no one’s fault but his own, Shane thought. That’s why he had been so determined to win. To prove himself. To earn back his teammates' respect. To fix the divide. If that meant more pressure on himself, stricter dieting, more workouts, more time spent at the rink, ignoring quips and small acts of defiance against him, playing through any pain or illness, then he had decided that’s what he would do.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,045
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77484476
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Please don't take my sunshine away by YellowTurtles
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-11
Shane and Ilya have been together for 5 months, and everything is seemingly going well …until Ilya receives a phone call that leaves him overcome with emotions he tried to bury …until Shane feels like he is being an awful boyfriend …until both break down and help each other pick up the pieces. Warning: Ilya calls Shane 'sweetheart' like twenty times and I am not sorry.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,722
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77501996
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Hayden - well, Jackie - finally works out what was going on during that phone call...
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,473
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77524596
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Karma is the guy on the screen coming straight home to me by mickeysmyheart
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-10
After two games lost because of Ilya's antics, Shane decides to torture him via his appearance on The Tonight Show while Ilya is back home in Ottawa.
- Part 7 of In a world post TLG
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,071
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77405626
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I could marry Svetlana. A noise built in his head. A steady, growing sound—and the more he thought about what had just happened, the harder it became to hear anything else. Another rush of noise pulsed behind his eyes. He twisted the tap to icy cold and splashed his face—the same water he’d praised not long ago, feeling sheepish and suddenly not knowing what to say. But they didn’t need words anymore. He’d thought so. His head felt ready to burst. He cupped a handful of water and poured it over his neck, gasping involuntarily. He stood there wet and shaking, water soaking through his shirt. He hated it. He hated how sticky it felt, how it clung to his burning skin—hated it as much as he’d hated that godawful ad shoot where they kept pouring water over him and touching him — “Shane?” Ilya’s voice cut through the noise, both in his head and through the bathroom door. Leave me alone. “Shane, are you okay?” Please leave me alone. Please do it now so it doesn’t hurt later.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,391
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77448806
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Shane thinks he's doing a good job at hiding the truth behind his performance diet.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 13,755
- Chapters:
- 6/6
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #72263701
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What is hell? I maintain as follows: by doctorenterprise
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-10
Shane remembers Ilya telling him once that hell is the suffering of being unable to love anymore, and Shane hadn’t understood that then. He couldn’t imagine being unable to love, because they were freshly married and blindingly happy and there was no force in the world that could take it away. But Shane thinks he gets it now, as he thinks about that grey December afternoon and beautiful blond boy in a toque with no one to love and no one to love him. That’s hell, he thinks. That’s hell, and he can barely speak around the swell of emotion in his throat, around the grief he feels at having held Ilya’s young hand for only a moment, for how he can never go back and hold him like he deserves to be held. They’re out - they’ve been out - and Shane can hardly stand it sometimes, how fucking good it feels to see Ilya enter a crowded room and meet his eyes and not feel that cold shock of terror zip down his spine. How plainly he can show love on his face after a decade of closed doors and frantic, not-enough stolen moments and being too terrified to let even his phone know he loves Ilya Rozanov. How he can reach out and tangle fingers with the love of his life and this new world they live in doesn’t try to cave in, or make them leave it, or make them leave each other. It drives him out of his mind daily, thinking about the life they lived together - apart, too fucking apart - for nearly ten years. Sometimes he looks at the slope of Ilya’s shoulders peeking out of a dark cotton tank top on their couch or the point of his toes tapping Shane’s across the space between their chairs or the soft swirl of golden curls darkened in the shower they designed together. Sometimes he looks at those things and his chest wells so full of love he feels like he might burst. Sometimes he looks at those things and feels like he might burst, yeah, but it’s not what drives him crazy. What drives him crazy is the memory of baby-rounded cheeks outside a rink in the prairies in 2008, in the dead of a bitterly cold winter, his first look at the face that would wallpaper his twenties, his whole life. Pinked by the wind, softened by youth, eyes sharp with interest but not familiarity, not yet. Eyes so icy grey they could have been carved from the pavement beneath their feet. A cigarette dangling from lips Shane hasn’t felt yet, but thinks about for months after. It’s the cheeks, though, when he really considers it. Ilya’s eyes are the same, still that same ice-cold grey, but softened around the edges by love and warmth and being loved. His lips are the same too, still full and pink, and they still stick in Shane’s mind like a very lovely thorn, all these years later. The cheeks, though. Soft and round, like a child on the brink of manhood, pink from the wind and maybe a blush - although Shane knows, he’s heard it a thousand times, Russians do not blush, even though Shane’s seen it happen a hundred different ways. They’re different now, sharper and angled in a way that makes air stick in Shane’s chest every time the light catches Ilya’s perfect cheekbones just so. Shane knows the world looks at Ilya Rozanov, a study in curls and cheekbones and mouthwatering iliac furrows, and sees someone dangerous and hot. Shane looks and sees a mouth softened with warmth, a divot between pecs that holds the dangling gold remnants of the only other soul who ever loved Ilya more than Shane does now. He sees a scar low on a golden stomach where doctors took Ilya’s appendix three years ago while Shane waited alone and terrified in Ilya’s Boston penthouse, feeling like a bird in a cage he built for himself. He sees calloused feet, scarred and blistered and worth millions of dollars. And he sees those cheeks. Shane’s life is a montage, or a flipbook of all his greatest hits, all still life images of Ilya Rozanov’s beautiful face growing thinner and stronger and sharper with age right before Shane’s eyes. It drives him crazy. Sometimes he thinks he’s at peace with it all, the years that passed them by and the youth and time and fear they wasted. He doesn’t feel old, really. They’re both thirty-one, they both have many years of hockey and their life together ahead of them. But he thinks about those soft cheeks on Ilya’s seventeen year old face and he knows he will never forgive himself for the years he spent looking at Ilya as anything but the other half of his soul. What he wouldn’t give to go back, to stretch his hand out to the beautiful, pink-faced boy lighting a cigarette against the chill of a Saskatchewan wind in December and tell him he loves him. Too many years passed between that moment and their tearful, overdue profession of love at the cottage. Too many years where it was true and unsaid and only thought about with panic, or denial, or the desire for it to stop. Years ago, a gentle soul stood in the cold with no one to love him, and Shane didn’t fix it for far too long. It drives him crazy. It keeps him up at night, often, just like it does tonight. The house is dark, and Ilya is asleep beside him in their bed, one they’ve shared every single night for a year now - thank god, thank anyone, thank everyone - and Shane watches him like he still can’t believe it. He can’t, not in moments like this when Ilya is still and peaceful and relaxed in a way that makes Shane’s chest ache with love. It feels like a cosmic joke that Shane has ended up here, loved and in love, with someone who eases every ache that’s ever settled itself in his mind, heart, and body. He doesn’t feel special enough for a gift like this - he’s already been given
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,949
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77411426
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College AU! where Ilya and Shane are roommates and Shane is oblivious to Ilya’s flirting. Shane has thoughts about Ilya that he can't control, and he spirals wondering what it means for him, and his relationship with his roommate (nothing more), Ilya Rozanov. Or 5 times Ilya’s a great roommate + the 1 time he isn’t (+ a short epilogue chapter from Irina Rozanov's POV) Title from ‘The Spins’ by Mac Miller & Empire Of The Sun
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 18,820
- Chapters:
- 7/7
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76185691
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Paradigm Shifts by TuppingLiberty
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-10
Post-Long Game On the first day of training camp with the Centaurs, Shane has a hard time coping with the differences between his old and new teams. Ilya helps him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,826
- Chapters:
- 3/3
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76053926
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“Fuck you Rozanov.” He smirks. Even in the dark, Shane can feel it. The way his mouth quirks up and his eyes widen. “If you ask nicely.” or shane hollander and ilya rozanov are roommates in college who hate each other. until they don’t. ft. reddit, letterboxd, RA scott hunter, tuna melts and late nights.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 19,870
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76508456