601 – 620 of 680 Works in Autistic Shane Hollander
- Autistic Shane Hollander ×
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Ilya makes pelmeni by ilovelesbianism
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-30
Ilya’s love language is food… Shane has food issues. Will Shane be able to enjoy a Russian meal Ilya cooks for him? Good thing Ilya is a supportive boyfriend.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,003
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76740171
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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.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,455
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 4 versions
- AO3:
- #76704901
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you are god over the storm, and i am yours by justhockey
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-30
He learned how to play the role they all wanted to see him in - learned how to wear the mask. But not with Ilya. Shane has never had to tone himself down for Ilya, never had to make himself smaller or quieter or more palatable. He has never had to shrink so that he is easier for Ilya to hold.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,606
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76730636
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During his weeks at the cottage the only people Shane usually had to interact with were his parents, and it was always so—nice. Such a relief. To not have to be a person, for a couple of weeks. Or, at least, to not have to be the kind of person other people seemed to think that he was, or that a hockey player was, or that a hockey player had to be. It wasn’t just about pretending he was straight. Sometimes, despite doing his best to ignore the jabs, Shane was forced to confront the fact that he really did often feel like a robot, and that the cottage was— for lack of better phrasing—his recharge time. And now—now Ilya was here. And Shane knew how to kiss him, how to play against him, how to be fucked by him, but there was no rulebook for this. -- shane does not like change. he does not like shifts in the status quo. he also honestly doesn't really like when people are in his house. however. shane does like ilya. maybe enough that none of that matters.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,238
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76660211
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Such a Pretty Crier by Bruja_oscura
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-29
Shane is still learning that he doesn't have to be perfect in his own relationship. Ilya is still learning the rules of Shane's bad days. So when Shane tries to push him away after a crushing loss, it leads to a tense argument. But ten years of rivalry are no match for Shane’s tears; the second he starts to cry, Ilya folds like a house of cards. Or: Shane tries to starve himself as punishment for losing, Ilya tries to feed him, and it turns into a very soft night of pampering because Ilya is legally incapable of staying angry at a crying Shane.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,302
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76626856
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Hidden in Plain Sight by Ineffableoutpost
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-29
5 times Ilya teases and flirts with Shane in public without getting caught, and 1 time they do get caught.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 13,977
- Chapters:
- 6/6
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #74964736
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In which Shane struggles after the events of the Long Game, and life doesn't get as easy as everyone hoped , and years of secrecy and fear do not go away overnight.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,396
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76621871
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Shane had no issue helping Ilya. He knew English was a frustrating language-knew the struggles that came with having to learn a whole other way to communicate.
And honestly, it gave him a feeling of fulfillment. He loved being helpful, loved being useful.
So he was more than happy to translate when Ilya needed.
Shane just never thought the day would come when their roles would be reversed.
or:
a hard of hearing! shane hollander fic- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,683
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76629846
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so hot you’re hurting my feelings by dreamkillaz
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-29
"That's— that's not what I'm insinuating, Ilya…" he started, sighing disappointingly down the line, making it obvious that he was pinching the bridge of his nose to calm down his nerves, "It's just—" "It's just what, lyubimiy?" Ilya interjected, and if Shane didn't know any better, he'd think that Ilya was being condescending, but he did know better, and that it was simply just the Russian in him. God, if Shane didn't know that he had regretted learning russian, he would've right now. "You can tell me if you don't want me to do it, no problem." Or… Ilya gets signed to campaign for Calvin Klein, and Shane hates it. Until he doesn’t.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,852
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76649866
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I hate accidents (except when we went from rivals to this) by blonndiec
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-29
Summer at the cottage was supposed to be relaxing. It turns into everything but—when Ilya drops “I could marry Svetlana” for an american visa like it’s a grocery list item. Shane’s face says over my dead body while Ilya, delighted, teases him for looking ready to commit “murder-suicide.” (He’s not wrong.) Shane Hollander has one big problem: he can’t let Ilya Rozanov marry anyone else. Not now. Not ever. So he does the unthinkable and proposes the most boring solution imaginable almost by accident. / Canon-Divergence /
- Part 1 of I'd Marry You With Paper Rings
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,308
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76583081
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what are you willing to do? (kiss it better, baby) by subbyjeongguk
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-29
shane knew two things: he'd never kissed anyone before, and he really could not stand ilya rozanov. (college!au with hockey rivals hollanov and virgin shane with forced proximity)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,631
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76635986
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A shameless smut ficlet. No thoughts, just vibes and Russian endearments.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,309
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76653261
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is it the same for you? by notwritinganovel
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-29
Shane releases what feels like his first exhale in forever—Ilya Rozanov, taken out by the common flu. Not ignoring him. Not ending anything. Still, the knot in his chest doesn’t ease completely with the vision of Ilya unwell and alone in Shane’s head. JANE Are you at your house? LILY Where else, Jane? JANE Don’t fall asleep. I’ll be there soon. LILY No, am sick. I told you. JANE I heard you. I’ll be there soon. Or, Ilya’s sick and Shane wants, and wants, and wants.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,040
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76674021
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you were reckless, you were hungry, you were real by rosemontstreet
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-29
“I am normal,” says Shane, rearranging his silverware on the table. “And I will pass Logic, ignore Ilya Rozanov, and continue to be normal forever until I die.” When he reaches for Rose’s fork to move it parallel to her plate, she grabs his wrist and gently sets it on the table.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,670
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76680316
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the blade of father and son by rubyjean_jacket
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-29
David loves hockey, he does, he just doesn’t love it the way Yuna and Shane do, in that all- consuming, world-defining way of theirs that binds the two of them together tighter than just blood. Sometimes, David feels like he’s missing out. Mostly, though, he’s glad they have something to share, something that’s uniquely theirs. David loves hockey, he does, he just doesn’t love it the way Yuna and Shane do, in that all- consuming, world-defining way of theirs that binds the two of them together tighter than just blood. Sometimes, David feels like he’s missing out. Mostly, though, he’s glad they have something to share, something that’s uniquely theirs. David doesn’t have something like that with Shane. He loves Shane, he really does, loves him more than breathing, but… Shane knows that Yuna loves him because they speak hockey to each other and understand each other perfectly. David should be able to keep up with them —he played hockey at McGill—but he can’t, somehow, because his relationship with hockey is fundamentally different. For Yuna, hockey is as intrinsic to her as her Japanese heritage: something deep inside her, tied to ideas like belonging and identity. For Shane, it’s much the same. For David, hockey is a sport he was good enough at that he kept playing it until he couldn't play it anymore, and then he did something else. When Shane is three, Yuna buys him skates. “Isn’t it a little early?” David asks. Yuna shakes her head. “You’ve got to start them early,” she says, unlacing the skates, “so that skating is as natural as walking.” David wants to ask why any of that is necessary, but he doesn’t, because he knows why, even if he doesn’t understand it. Because Yuna loves hockey with her whole self. In those early days, David finds himself praying to a God he hasn’t believed in since childhood that Shane will love hockey like Yuna does, because David’s pretty sure it would break her heart if Shane saw hockey the same way David did, through unromantic eyes. His prayers are answered. Hockey is everything to Shane; he loves it with his whole self. He is a difficult kid, or maybe David and Yuna are just unpracticed parents. Shane is particular. He cries a lot, and he fusses over everything, and he doesn’t have any friends because he doesn’t like talking about anything but hockey, doesn’t like doing anything but hockey. And Yuna is happy to indulge him, and David is happy to indulge her. So Shane heads down the same path David was on, some twenty years before, only the world has changed a lot since then. Things are a lot less private. Strangers have opinions on Shane’s style of play and make predictions about where he’ll fall in the draft. Shane is a child. He should be playing Grounders with his friends, laughing and smiling until his face hurts. He should have friends. Instead, he has teammates and coaches and spectators and tag-alongs and rivals, and David doesn’t think any of it is very healthy at all, actually. Shane melts down all the time, over everything. He doesn’t want to eat dinner. He doesn’t want to have a bath. He doesn’t want practise to be over. He doesn’t want to miss a game. He doesn’t want new shin pads. He doesn’t want to go to school early. He doesn’t want to go to school at all. Surely, this behaviour isn’t normal. Surely, David and Yuna aren’t just failing at every turn. Surely there’s a reason why Shane is so… impossible. Why the world seems to stymie him. “I think Shane might be autistic,” one of Shane’s teachers says at Parent-Teacher night, and David doesn’t know what that is, but he’s filled with relief that there’s a word for what they are struggling with, that there are families like theirs out there, children like Shane; that they aren’t alone. Yuna doesn’t see it that way. David should’ve known she wouldn’t. “Don’t tell me what my son is,” she says, angry in the way that she never is. “There’s nothing wrong with him.” But there is something… maybe not wrong with Shane, but different. David tries to bring it up to Yuna, but she shuts it down every time. “How would you know?” she says, with that same anger. “You’re never here. Don’t tell me what my son is.” Yuna’s son. Like David is nothing to Shane, nothing to either of them, intruding on the two of them. Sometimes, at practises, other parents ask David which kid is his, and they are always surprised when the answer is Shane. He must take after his mother, they say, which is their way of saying that he doesn’t look white. “Our son is hurting!”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,157
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76634166
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Shane lingered in the doorway, holding out for the chance that any second now Rosanov would come around the corner and lead Shane back to his bed. That he would help with the feeling of despair and emptiness that had hit Shane the moment Rosanov had taken his hands off Shane and reached for his damn pack of cigarettes. Refusing to look at him. Refusing to touch him, the space between their bodies felt like it was ten miles wide even as Shane could feel Rosanov’s cum drying on his skin. Usually, Rosanov would at least clean him up before ending their nights together, but apparently Shane wasn’t even worth that courtesy anymore. There was a sudden feeling of hotness behind his eyes at that thought. AKA a post-episode two subdrop fix-it fic
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,576
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76610436
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Shane doesn't fall apart loudly. He spirals, shuts down, missteps. Ilya pays attention. He stays. He helps Shane learn what it feels like to be noticed without being corrected. or, 5 times Shane needs help regulating his autism, and Ilya is there for him + 1 time Shane is there for Ilya.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,155
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76562201
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5 times Shane Hollander makes a conscious effort to publicly display his affection for Ilya Rozanov, and 1 time he doesn't need to think so hard about it.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,139
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76604681
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The Blue Pillow by masterroadtripper
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-28
When they pulled into the garage of their house in Ottawa, Ilya gently prodded Shane to, “shower, get yourself ready.” Of course, that could mean just about anything, and that was why Ilya phrased it that way. If Shane wanted quiet, wanted to cuddle in the quiet, he could pull on his most ridiculous flannel pajamas and curl in close. But if Shane wanted him, wanted the one language that never failed between them anymore, then Shane knew what he had to do. And Ilya had a sense that he already knew what Shane would choose. They had no match that day, just training with the Centaurs, but Ilya knew Shane had woken on the wrong side of the bed. One of those mornings where the light coming between the cracks in their window blinds felt abrasive. Where none of his clothes were right. Where he’d shower before leaving for the rink and then again once he got there, the first not having counted because he’d already ruined it by existing in the world. Lunch would be an ordeal that Ilya watched for the sole purpose of ensuring that Shane ate something. Anything too warm or too textured would be left untouched, until he inevitably defaulted to a bowl of chickpeas and spinach because at least those two foods behaved predictably and did exactly what Shane expected them to do. The buzzer made him flinch every time it went off when they got ready for some drills in the afternoon, sharp and unavoidable, and on the drive home Shane picked at the skin around his fingernails until it lifted in long, thin pieces. Ilya had learned the signs long before he understood them. Back when they’d first started this, so many years ago now, he’d thought Shane was perhaps slightly difficult. Different. That was what everyone said. They were never cruel enough to say anything more than that then, though Ilya would later learn how quickly that restraint would wear thin once winning stopped making up for inconvenience. When he was particular to the point of peculiarity, or quiet to the point of unease, Ilya would watch those big brown eyes tracking everything and everyone on the ice. There were times when Shane didn’t speak at all. Not out of sulking or stubbornness, not as some calculated refusal, but because the words simply never arrived. His mouth would open and close again, the thought intact but unreachable, and he’d turn his head slightly away from Ilya, his gaze fixing on something neutral like a lamp or a building out the window. Ilya knew now that Shane could and would go nonverbal, though at the time he didn’t have the English for it, didn’t have any language beyond the uneasy certainty that pushing would only make it worse. What Shane did have language for were systems. Rules. Things that behaved if you treated them correctly. Folding his clothes with precise, almost reverent care. Lacing his skates the same way every time. Eating the same meals, parking in the same spot, walking the same routes through the increasingly familiar away cities as if repetition might smooth out their edges. Ilya knew that people mistook Shane’s steadiness for control, for leadership even, and Ilya knew that Shane let them. That it was easier than admitting how much effort it took to appear normal to the world that wouldn’t see him that way. At the time, Ilya hadn’t known why the rituals mattered so much, why deviation hit Shane like a personal failure instead of a minor inconvenience. No one ever called it anything because the league loved men like Shane. Players who were disciplined, controlled, and relentlessly prepared. What Ilya had known, back then, was that sex was simpler, even if it was riskier. He had gambled. All those years ago, he’d noticed that the only time Shane ever truly came alive, ever seemed able to meet Ilya where he was, was on the ice. Skates carving into the rink, their shoulders colliding. Physicality seemed to give Shane something that his words never quite managed to do. It was the way through to him, Ilya had realized, a way out. So if Ilya wanted more, if he wanted anything, it would have to start there. It would have to be physical, Ilya knew almost right away. After that first, sharp “fuck off” chirp from Shane in the showers after the CCM commercial before their rookie year, even though Shane’s voice had been rough and startled, Ilya knew he was onto something. Not because Shane had said “not here” to him after he’d turned to face Shane front-on, but because he’d said anything at all. Because he’d stayed. Because he’d opened his hotel room door. Because as soon as Ilya had gotten his hands on him, had gotten his mouth on Shane’s, it was like Ilya had cracked the code and had found a way to get through to Shane like he’d only otherwise been able to on the ice. Shane might not have been able to speak it, might not have been able to admit it even to himself, but Ilya knew he’d found the way in much better than he had in the hotel gym. They didn’t have to talk. They never did. Sex, touch, pressure, heat, it all seemed to cut through that weird noise he could see crossing Shane’s features in a way that made Ilya realize that was more immediate to focus on than anything else. They were good at it. They always had been. And for a long time, Ilya mistook that relief for resolution, believing that whatever was breaking Shane down during the day could be burned off at night, leaving nothing behind that would ever need to be named. Eventually, Shane tried to explain. Not all at once, and not easily. He put a name to what he'd had been dealing with since he was a kid, and said it like it was something fragile, easily mishandled, as though he weren’t entirely sure Ilya would know the word, or what to do with it if he did. He did. David had mentioned it to him before. It had been the first time they’d talked properly, out at the cottage a few days after they’d accidentally outed themselves to Shane’s parents. David had taken Ilya aside, not unkindly, but with a careful seriousness that felt earned. He’d told him that Shane’s mother had been… less understanding. That as both his mother and his manager, she struggled with anything that might make Shane less than his best. Less marketable. Less predictable. Anything that threatened the version of him the league found easiest to celebrate. David hadn’t spoken badly of her, but instead, he’d just looked tired. He said that all he’d ever wanted for Shane was for him to be happy, and that only part of that happiness could be hockey, no matter how much it had come to define him. He wanted Shane to be loved, for who he was, not for what he could produce, and he wanted Ilya to be able to love him too. Regardless of hockey. Regardless of autism. Not in spite of it, but without fear of it. So when Shane finally said it himself - "I'm autistic, Ilya" - sitting beside him with his hands folded tight in his lap, eyes fixed somewhere just past the horizon, Ilya understood what it had cost him. This wasn’t new information, not exactly, but it was Shane offering up something that had so often been treated as liability, asking without quite asking to be held there without being diminished. Shane admitted that hockey was the first language he’d ever known, quite literally. Ever since the first game his father took him to when he was four, perched high in the stands with the cold seeping through his boots, the arena roaring loudly around him, Shane had chewed
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,880
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76566646
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Ilya steps into the room and closes the door behind him. “Sorry I took long. I had hockey practice.” “I know. Don’t worry about it. Please, have a seat.” Shane allows himself a small, private smile as Ilya approaches and drops into the chair in front of him. His hair looks slightly damp as runs a hand through it, a blond curl falling back over his eyes. Shane crosses his legs beneath the desk and swallows.“So," he mumbles, suddenly unsure how to begin. This is already harder than he thought it would be. "How are things looking this season?” Ilya shrugs. "Good. We fuck now?" “Ilya!” Shane blurts, yanking his glasses off and dropping them onto the desk with a clatter. So much for a night of roleplay. -- or where shane wants to try being more dominant, and ilya lets him think he'll allow it
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,571
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76571686