1 – 13 of 13 Works in Worried Shane Hollander
- Worried Shane Hollander ×
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try to capture every minute, that feeling in it by imbihesgay
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-06-19
“If the plums are good, we will get them,” he assures her and she smiles in relief. “Kay Daddy.” She goes back to looking at the numerous, colorful brands of cereal around them in the aisle. Shane sighs, one hand pressed against the underside of his swollen belly as a barrage of movement steals his focus momentarily. He’s so distracted by the movement of their baby within, that it takes him a second to realize the gentle presence of his daughter has disappeared from his side. He turns, so quickly that it makes his hip muscles pull uncomfortably, trying to spot her in the aisle. His heart lodges in his throat when he realizes she is no longer even in the same aisle. “Ren?” he chokes out, feet moving in the direction of the aisle’s edge, hoping to god she’s somewhere extremely nearby and he’s just missing her. The hurried waddle to the end of the aisle feels like it takes an eternity, his heart racing, sweat beading on his forehead, pulse stuttering. Fuck, what is she wearing right now? What color is her shirt? Oh, fuck, what if he has to tell the police what she was last seen in? What if he- what if she’s- -aka a pregnant shane has a scary day with their older daughter-
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,613
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #86980951
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icarus, baby, you’ll fly one day by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-05-25
Shane arrives at Ilya’s penthouse with a touch of anxiety and no idea what to say.
Ilya has been ignoring him since the publication of the report that revealed years of doping by the Russian national athletics teams. He may have read Shane’s messages, but he hasn’t responded to any. Shane has no idea how he’ll react to Shane’s sudden appearance at his home, but he has to try.
Or: How the boys navigate the 2014 Sochi doping scandal when they can hardly handle their own situationship.
- Part 10 of love-a-nov (hollanov one-shots)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,980
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #84932241
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always there when not all's fine by Anonymous
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-05-06
At some point during the drive, Shane's anxiety spikes in a new direction. All night, it’s been hyper focused on Ilya―something Shane does not want to look deeper at, considering the phone call he was woken up with and the fact that Ilya was, in fact, in trouble. About halfway to Ottawa, however, it shifts.
Zane Boodram knows it’s Shane who is coming. He knew Shane’s voice; was not surprised when Shane answered the phone instead of some unknown ‘Jane’. Zane Boodram knows.
- Part 8 of love-a-nov (hollanov one-shots)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,139
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #84394436
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When Shane suspects Ilya has the flu but he's away for a game, he calls upon his mother to make sure Ilya is well taken care of in his absence. ___ “I’m sorry I thought you were mama,” Ilya quickly said on top of her words, still unwilling to meet her eye. So this was where the majority of the silence stemmed from, then. Shame. She immediately sat back down, plate forgotten. Even with his head angled downwards, she did not miss the red flush on his cheeks and chin. YUNA “Hey, sweetheart. Isn’t the game beginning in two hours? What’s up?” Yuna huffed quietly into the receiver of her phone, amused, as she watched David mercilessly throw snow off of the roof of their car with a shovel. He caught her watching through the kitchen window, sent her a gloved thumbs-up, and continued to sweep it from the windshield as if he had a vendetta against the wintertime. “Mom— hi,” Shane’s voice was tinny and obscured on the other line, as it always was whenever he was so far away, but this time even more-so when combined with the noise of what must have been the locker room. Shane rarely ever called this soon before a game; his priorities often more-so aligned with keeping his teammates in check and completing pre- game interviews, not placating his nervous mother. Something was amiss, and she had a nagging feeling it was serious. “Is something wrong?” She asked, unable to contain it. She heard him sigh. That was never a good start. Somewhere near him, a teammate shrieked something incoherent. But she patiently waited him out as he tried to find the words. “It’s— Lily,” he finally said, clearly frustrated. Her heart ached. She hated that he needed to be so careful with his words when around anyone he knew personally. She hated that he couldn’t be open and honest and carefree. She hated that all of the men he surrounded himself with got to talk openly about their wives and girlfriends and children, and he was relegated to a code- word like an obsessive middle schooler. But she steeled that anger for another time. “She’s sick, I think. Since I’m all the way over here for another twenty-four hours at least, I was hoping you might be able to… check up on her.” The ‘her’ was strained. Yuna nodded gratuitously, despite the fact that her son couldn’t see her. “Of course. Of course I will. Do you know specifically what’s wrong?” “Flu, I think. H—she won’t tell me. She mentioned not feeling well a few hours ago, and I haven’t heard anything since,” then, quieter, more nervous: “she would never ask for help, but I know she needs it. She wouldn’t have mentioned anything if it wasn’t bad.” Yuna Hollander did not know her son’s boyfriend quite well just yet. He had only recently fully transitioned to living in Ottawa, and therefore only just becoming a common occurrence in their lives— perhaps even more common than her own son. She had had him over plenty of times with Shane by his side, but only a handful of times by himself: almost always to watch Shane’s games. While so much was obscured in shrouded ambiguity, though, she did know one thing for certain: that Ilya Rozanov seemed to be a very stubborn man. And that Shane himself would never reach out, asking for her help on his behalf, if he didn’t think he needed it. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” she decided. “I’ll send you updates, but focus on the game for now, okay?” Shane snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Text me, please.” “Of course, honey. I love you.” “Love you too.” ____ Ilya’s new-construction mansion in Ottawa, purchased with Yuna’s amateur but enthusiastic real-estate guidance, was imposing beneath the newly-fallen snow: large and dark and glassy. David had managed to free Yuna’s car by the time she’d gathered a bag of groceries and medication, and she was not particularly cautious on her speedy drive over. She did not bother with knocking. There was no doorbell, and the house was sprawling; she doubted Ilya would notice if she walked right in if he was in one of the back bedrooms. She put in the code Shane had given her and noisy kicked off her shoes to announce her presence, but it sparked no reaction from the silent, open-floor living space. She placed her shopping bags on the counter and continued down the hall, knocking on the large door she remembered leading to the master bedroom when she had last been given a tour by the realtor, months ago. “Ilya? It’s Yuna,” she called, forcefully. There was no answer. Suddenly nervous, her hand shook, just barely, on the handle. “I’m coming in.” The room was dark, save for the meager light coming from a lamp on the dresser. It smelled stale and musky, like a teenage boy’s room when left unattended and uncleaned for too long. It was not messy, though— but eerily empty, as though nobody lived there. No clothing, no photos, no decorations besides the essential bedroom furniture. The only sign of life was a curled-up lump on the bed, facing away from the door. Yuna walked over, crouching down beside the bed near Ilya’s sleeping face. His expression, though slack and peaceful, was marred by the pallor of his skin and the unsettling, uneven pattern of his breathing. She slowly reached up to comb a hand through his hair, and nearly yanked her fingers back when she found it soaking wet, heat radiating from his skull. When she had first become a mother, pregnant with Shane, she was mortified that she would have to do things like this: take care of gross, feverish bodies, change diapers. But when she held him in her arms for the first time, it was as though his body became an extension of hers, and that fear dissipated into only small queasiness during episodes of sickness. Though Ilya was not hers by nature, she felt that same unyielding courage in the face of just how gross his damp, sticky skin felt. She quickly yanked the mound of blankets and quilts atop him down to his hips to cool him down, pressing a hand to his back. His tee-shirt was soaked through with sweat. When she then felt his neck, the temperature there was no better. “Ilya,” Yuna, though a calm person in most situations, felt the tightening in her voice. Why hadn’t he woken up by now, with all of this prodding? His skin was hotter than she’d ever felt
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,579
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #80197161
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Shane's eyes squeeze closed again. “We had reason to put rules in place. Protocol. If ever—if it got to a place where, if he was ever feeling like he might—"
Hayden’s body understands before his mind catches up. His blood runs cold for a second, stuck on the scrunch of Shane’s face, the clench of his fist, how desperate he’d been to see Rozanov—Ilya—just now. To make sure that he was okay. Here, in person.
Not hurt. Alive.
“Oh,” Hayden hears himself say distantly. “Oh, fuck, Shane.”
--
or, Ilya needs a place to go, and Hayden's happens to be the closest. It turns out to be a good thing.
- Part 1 of all lights turned off can be turned on
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,339
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79787036
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lover, come home to me by Anonymous
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-02-16
Shane loses his game to a blizzard and his boyfriend to a bad hit, all in the same night.
Snowed in with his parents in Montreal, he watches Ilya get stretchered off on live TV, and discovers that when your relationship is a secret, no one at the hospital thinks to call you.
In Ottawa, Ilya wakes up with broken bones, a serious concussion, and a neatly edited brain. The months where he was lonely and depressed and fighting with Shane? Gone. He’s mentally living in the soft, hopeful beginning of things—and the more everyone tiptoes around him, the more wrong it feels.
The Centaurs step up. The Hollanders dig in. Shane tries to convince himself that “temporary amnesia” is not the same thing as losing him.
They’re still together. They’re technically fine.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 63,873
- Chapters:
- 5/5
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77861021
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How a Russian Takes his Porridge by lavagirlultra
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-02-05
Ilya's supposed to tell Shane when he's getting bad again. He's promised, over and over, to ask for help. To reach out. To let Shane take care of him for once. Ilya genuinely means it when he makes this promise. He has no intention of breaking it. The issue is this: Ilya doesn't always realize things are getting bad. Actually, he almost never notices until someone else does. or: In the midst of a depressive episode, Ilya wonders if Shane truly understands what he's signing up for.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,248
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78926836
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Title inspired by pool (stripped) - by Samia Ilya's life was perfect. The Centaurs were thriving with both Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. He'd always loved playing against Shane, but playing with him, with his ring on his finger, was a whole other level. He couldn't have been happier. He doesn't remember why it happened. Or why it had to happen to him. Or Ilya gets in a car crash and everything changes.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 11,411
- Chapters:
- 6/6
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77539541
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When Ilya is jumped in an alleyway by some homophobic hockey fans, the entire Ottawa Centaurs team comes to his rescue.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,212
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77679811
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so lost without you, i think we can be brave now by nairoby_x
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-12-31
“How are you feeling?” Ilya smiles, big and bright. “I feel fucking great, but I’m hungry and probably won’t be able to fuck for a couple of weeks” His words come out slurred and with a heavy accent, but his friends understand and laugh along with him. “That sucks” Wyatt says. “Not being able to fuck sexy women—” “And men” Ilya adds, too casually. Wyatt stops. “What?” Bood asks
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,946
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76763581
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Unanswered, Unaware by allaboutfictioncoffeeandplants
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-29
The plane crash aftermath, if Shane and Ilya had broken up 3 months earlier
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,112
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76659476
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When Ilya gets injured while swimming in the lake, Shane scrambles to save him from drowning. ("We all get our bell rung, eventually." -Shane Hollander) It was a less than perfect day at the lake. A gray day—little sun. But Shane Hollander was overflowing with light. He felt it on his cheeks, all over his skin, in his bones. He couldn’t stop smiling with it. The cottage itself seemed to glow with a living aura. The night before he was looking into his longtime lover’s eyes when he said—twice in Russian, and then once in English—“I love you.” Shane said it back. And his world shifted like tectonic plates. No day would ever truly be gray again. Ilya Rozanov stood on top of the large, slanted rock on which Shane sat. “Don’t dive into the water, you idiot. It’s shallow here—up to your waist.” Ilya ruffled Shane’s slate-black hair. “I do little jump,” Rozanov said. “Barely dive. Closer to —what do you say—eh, belly flop.” Shane rolled his eyes as he carefully rearranged his hair. “You’re going to belly flop into cold water with bruised ribs?” Ilya winced and wrinkled his nose at the thought. “You dive in there and you’re going to sprain your wrists on the bottom before your feet hit the water,” Hollander warned. “Fine!” Ilya made a show of putting his hands behind his back by stretching his long arms up and around. He clasped his own fingers together and stared down at Hollander. “No arms. Half belly flap, half dive. Yes? Approved?” The fondness for Ilya that glowed in Shane’s heart warmed. “Fine!” he said, pronouncing the word with a Russian accent, speaking it the same way Ilya had a moment ago. “But there’s a downed tree down there so aim to the—” Ilya rotated to the right and dove nose-first over Shane’s knees. “—left.” Shane gulped. Ilya disappeared into the water—all six feet of him—and Shane sighed. He looked around, taking a moment to ingest the view. The hockey captain took in the trees, the horizon on the water, the sky. All beautiful, he concluded. But not as beautiful as Ilya Rozanov’s body in those swimming trunks. That was his favorite view of all. Shane looked down at the spot in the water where Ilya had disappeared, and curled his hands into fists when he realized that a whole half minute had passed. How long could his lover hold his breath? Shane didn’t know. “Rozanov?” he called to the silent lake. “Ilya!” The clouds shifted then. Shane concluded that an entire minute had passed. Sunlight through the trees illuminated the colors of the water—blue, black, teal, green... And red. “FUCK,” Shane gasped at the sight of the blood. He eased himself into the water and started swimming as fast as he could. His leg bumped something solid. Shane took a deep breath and dropped underwater, eyes open. Arms paddling, fingers reaching, mostly blind, Shane felt around for the solid object. Fingers found the underwater tree, first, but then he found something hard that felt like skin, and he pulled. Shane summoned all of his strength and swam for the surface. He emerged gasping, holding the limp, unmoving body in a bridal carry. Rozanov’s head lolled against Shane’s bicep— eyes shut, mouth open. “Ilya!” Hollander shouted at him. “ILYA!” When not even an eyelid flinched, he swore again and stomped toward the shore. Shane had never heard his own heart beating. But it was thundering in his ears when he gently laid Ilya’s waterlogged body down on the grass. Rozanov’s skin was corpse-colored except for the massive gash at his hairline that was leaking blood. “Dammit!” Shane shouted, voice cracking, when water leaked from Rozanov’s blue-tinted lips. He rolled him onto his side and watched several cups of water stream from his mouth. Then Shane knelt, pressed his ear to Ilya’s lips, and both listened and felt for his breathing. Nothing. No inhale. No exhale. Tears erupted from Shane’s dark eyes. He pressed two fingers against the pulse point on Ilya’s throat. He found it. Ilya had a pulse. But Shane was certain his heart was beating too slow—the sensation shallow under the white skin. Shane’s eyes were so soaked with tears that everything went funhouse mirror blurry. He rolled Ilya onto his back, squeezed his nostrils shut, and blew air into his lungs. Again. Again and again and again. Over and over he breathed breath into his lover. In the distance, a loon called—mocking, almost. “Please,” Shane said against Ilya’s lips. “Wake up, you asshole! Please!” Shane pulled back and looked down at Ilya’s slack face. “Ilya,” he begged. “ILYA!” Then, with all his strength, Shane pushed down on Ilya’s stomach. Water, vomit, and who knew what else erupted from Ilya’s stomach and chest. A cough followed it—then another. After three more, Ilya’s eyes burst open and he went into a coughing fit that Shane had no doubt killed his already bruised ribs. Shane lifted Ilya’s body, then. Lifted him up into his arms so that he was almost sitting. Shane held him while he coughed—didn’t care about the blood slowly soaking his swimming trunks or the vomit under his knees. Ilya’s wide eyes found Shane’s and refused to look away. Shane whispered into Ilya’s ear, “I’m here, I’ve got you, just breathe, you’re ok—you’re ok—you’re ok.” The blood flow didn’t stop, but the coughing eventually did. “Shane,” Ilya wheezed. “S- Sorry…” “Shhh,” Hollander soothed. “You hit your head. You’re bleeding bad. I have to get you to the hospital—can you stand?”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,707
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76486586
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Ilya felt the hit before he processed what was happening. Immediately, all the air left his lungs as he flipped, slamming into the ice, head and shoulder first. The sickening crack in his shoulder should have been concerning, but the way his stomach lurched and his head spun was all he could focus on. Ilya Rozanov was down, and it didn’t seem like he was getting back up.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,286
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75590296