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My love mine all mine (all mine) by orphan_account
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-01-11
“A couple of years ago he’d told Shane, as casually as possible, that if he wanted to have sex with other men when they were apart—which was most of the time—he could. Shane hadn’t taken Ilya’s offer well. He’d thought it had been Ilya’s backhanded way of letting Shane know that he’d cheated on him, or that he wanted to. It had ended with Shane storming out of Ilya’s house in Ottawa and driving back to Montreal, which had been a horrible waste of a rare night they could have had together. He’d ignored Ilya’s texts for three days after.” Or My take on chapter 21 in “The Long Game” when Ilya tells Shane he can sleep with other people, and he doesn’t take it well. - what I think happened during those three days.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,434
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77518581
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I’ve Seen Love Die, Way Too Many Times by orphan_account
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-10
Kinda AU where Shane and Ilya are forced to discuss their mental health issues before TLG? Shane goes to surprise visit Ilya a month after he’s moved to Ottawa only to find that his mental health isn’t great. Shane’s isn’t either after a health scare and he’s forced to focus his exercise behaviors with Ilya. (TW ED/discussion of suicidal thoughts).
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,123
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77413696
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Shane Hollander Can Pull by orphan_account
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-07
The MLH starts live-streaming a Mic'd up player every week. Unfortunately, Ilya forgets he's being streamed live to half a million people. Meanwhile, Shane Is gearing up to punch the next person to say he can't pull.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,734
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77284991
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Shane Hollander accidentally becomes the internet’s favorite “work wife.” Ilya Rozanov thinks this is the funniest thing that has ever happened and commits to the bit with horrifying sincerity. It started at the press conference in Tampa. Shane Hollander sat ramrod straight at the long table, hands clasped in front of him, the living embodiment of Canadian restraint drilled into his bones since minor hockey. He answered questions about Montreal’s power play the way a man answers a fire drill: calmly, correctly, and without a flicker of surprise. Every response sounded memorized, a careful blend of polite deflection and measured praise for his teammates, calibrated to say nothing memorable unless it involved a goal or a fight. He was excellent at it, so professionally dull it bordered on art. Three seats down, Ilya Rozanov was putting on an entirely different show. Fresh off a hat trick that had buried Montreal yet again, Ilya lounged in his chair like the building had been constructed around him. His tie was already loosened, his top button undone, because rules were for people who needed them. One arm draped along the back of the empty chair beside him, he dissected his own brilliance in that lazy drawl that made reporters lean closer and fans either swoon or grind their teeth. When the inevitable question about their rivalry landed, because it always did and always would, Ilya’s gaze slid sideways for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Shane to feel it land low in his gut like a body check he had not braced for and absolutely should have seen coming. “Rozanov, you and Hollander seem to find each other all over the ice every time you play. Is that something you actively look for, or is it just instinct at this point?” “Of course,” Ilya said, his accent thickening as he took his time with it. “I always know exactly where Hollander is on the ice. Is like…” He paused, tilting his head as if searching for the right English word, though Shane knew damn well it was already chambered. “Is like built-in radar.” A couple of reporters chuckled. Someone from TSN, a voice Shane recognized even while refusing to look up, leaned into it with the grin of a man who thought he was about to strike gold. “You two have been going at each other for years now. That’s quite the partnership you’ve got, alongside one hell of a rivalry.” Ilya tasted the word partnership before answering, eyes flicking to Shane again. Then he turned back to the room, savoring it like good vodka. “Partnership,” he repeated, letting the r stretch. “Yes. Good word. We understand each other very well.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table now, his voice dropping into that conspiratorial register that made everyone listen closer than they meant to. “Sometimes I think Shane knows what I’m going to do before I even decide. Is very… intimate, the way he reads me.” Laughter rolled through the room, easy and appreciative, the sound people make when they think they’re sharing a harmless joke about hockey jargon. Shane felt his face heat instantly and was grateful for the bright lights masking it. He reached for his water bottle on instinct and took a swallow, which turned into a mistake the moment Ilya added, almost casually, “He always knows exactly where I should put my stick.” Shane choked hard enough that the moderator glanced over in concern. He waved a hand, coughing and thumping his chest as if he could knock the humiliation loose, eyes watering as he fought for air. A few reporters shot him sympathetic looks, and someone asked if he was alright. Ilya, the absolute bastard, did not bother pretending to care. He sat there with that faint, infuriating smirk curling at the corner of his mouth, eyes half-lidded and gleaming like he was replaying every filthy thing Shane had whispered to him in a hotel room two nights earlier. “Wrong pipe,” Shane managed eventually. He took a second, more careful sip, kept his gaze firmly forward, and silently begged the floor to open up and end him before the next question landed. The next morning, The Athletic ran the headline: “Work Spouses: How Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov’s Rivalry Became the MLH’s Most Intense Partnership.” By the time Shane was half dressed, brushing his teeth and doomscrolling in front of the hotel mirror, the internet had already done what it always did. Twitter had stripped the phrase down to its most inflammatory core and decided he was now a “work wife.” Shane stared at the screen, toothpaste foaming at the corners of his mouth, then stared at it again as if the words might rearrange themselves out of basic decency. “What the actual fuck,” he told his reflection, voice muffled around the toothbrush. It did not get better. When he reached the Amalie Arena and filtered into the Metros’ locker room for pregame, the familiar smell of tape and sweat did nothing to settle his nerves. He had barely dropped his bag when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Lily: hello wife
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,844
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77210276
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The team celebrates Shane Hollander’s mysterious new girlfriend. Hayden Pike, unfortunately, thinks Shane is cheating on her with Ilya Rozanov. Hayden Pike prided himself on reading people sharper than anyone else in the Montreal Metros’ locker room. He could clock a lie, a hangover, or a guy’s panic before the laces were even knotted. That skill had been earned the hard way, through seasons of listening to teammates bullshit their way around bad hookups, brutal benders, or shifts they’d rather forget. Yet none of that groundwork prepared him for the afternoon the entire room turned into a pack of howling teenagers because Shane Hollander was apparently, at long last, getting steady pussy. The mayhem ignited from nothing more than the usual post-practice sloppiness. Phones and gear lay scattered across benches as guys rushed for showers or the parking lot. Shane, still soaked in sweat, had dropped his phone face-up and walked off to the showers without a second thought. The screen glowed brightly when a notification slid in from a contact saved simply as “Lily.” The message hit like a slapshot: “come tonight 🍆” The rookie who spotted it first let out a whoop that ricocheted off the tiled walls. “Holy shit, Captain’s got a girl!” Hayden had learned years ago that a hockey locker room operated like one giant, not-very- bright organism. Individually, the players varied widely, from intelligent types to complete meatheads who sometimes seemed unsure which direction the rink faced. As soon as the group latched onto a scandalous bit of gossip, however, the collective grip tightened more securely than new tape wrapped around a stick blade. Facts became irrelevant. From that moment forward, Shane Hollander was indisputably enjoying sex with a woman named Lily, and the verdict stood final. The news brought an involuntary grin to Hayden’s face. He could easily imagine Shane navigating those awkward, sincere dates, arriving with flowers in hand, holding doors open, and working hard to impress a woman already bold enough to send an eggplant emoji without hesitation. The whole picture carried an oddly endearing quality, absurd as it was, and Hayden experienced a ridiculous rush of pride, as though he had somehow orchestrated the end of Shane’s famously prolonged drought. The moment Shane returned from the showers, towel tied low around his hips and hair still dripping, the onslaught of ribbing crashed into him like a blindside hit. The guys didn’t hold back. “Lily got you smiling like that, huh, Hollander?” “She got a friend who’s into defensemen?” “Tell her the whole room owes her a fruit basket for finally popping your cherry right.” Shane’s face went scarlet, the flush starting at his ears and spreading quickly. It was the same one he got when coaches yelled at him or when he missed an easy shot. He muttered something half-hearted about them minding their own fucking business, but the words came out weak and only made everyone laugh harder. As the crowd thinned and they stepped into the quieter hallway, Hayden pulled Shane aside with a light grip on his arm. Shane looked at him with cautious eyes. “Hayden,” he started, his voice low. Hayden lifted both hands in a peaceful gesture. “Relax, man. You don’t have to say anything. I’m just happy for you. Seriously. About time you got your dick wet somewhere that isn’t your own hand.” Shane opened his mouth, then closed it again. He offered one of those tight smiles that could mean anything from thank you to go fuck yourself. Hayden took it as gratitude. After all, Shane was a good dude. He worked hard and was the kind of guy who would spot you a hundred bucks without ever mentioning it again. He deserved someone to go home to, someone who could ride him until he forgot about turnovers and penalty kills for a few hours, even if imagining Shane actually in bed felt strangely impossible with that clean-cut face of his. Later that night, after the game against Boston, Hayden could not sleep. The game had been typical enough where Ilya Rozanov was concerned. Ilya had been his usual insufferable self, smirking across the ice like he owned the rink and chirping Shane in Russian that sounded suspiciously flirty. But rivals were going to rival, so Hayden pushed the thought aside. Still, insomnia gripped Hayden tightly. He had forgotten the melatonin gummies Jackie always packed in his travel bag, complete with her usual lecture on self-care. Too restless to stay in bed, he wandered the hotel hallways in his sweats, barefoot, hoping for anything that might quiet the buzz in his head. He had just reached Shane’s door when a sound stopped him cold. It was a moan that carried clearly through the thin walls. “Shit…” the voice rasped. Hayden’s pulse jumped. His first thought was injury. Maybe Shane had aggravated something in the third period and was toughing out the pain alone. Or perhaps he had hit the bar too hard after the game and was now regretting it. Or, more awkwardly, their strait-laced captain had turned up some hotel porn and forgotten to keep the volume down. Then another moan drifted, followed by a breathless, accented growl. Hayden froze. He recognized it instantly for what it was: pure, unfiltered sex.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,716
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77080941
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Ilya’s cigarettes have always been easier than love...but Shane tastes too good to keep smoking. It isn't easy to quit smoking, Ilya knows that. He's tried, multiple times without success. Something Shane has quietly, stubbornly hated since their rookie year. An off-season at Shane’s cottage forces Ilya to confront the habit he’s clung to for comfort, the one that could keep him from fully being with the man he loves.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,186
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76968436
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All Shane needed was physical comfort. He cried in Ilya’s arms, just as Ilya had. And both of them knew the fact that they were still there──both times──meant way more than they could’ve imagined. Ilya needed Shane to be okay. Shane wanted that for him, too. Each other's anchors. In which Shane has a panic attack the night before his first game back.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,124
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76969861
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When Two Becomes Three (?) by orphan_account
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-01-01
Shane Hollander has spent his entire life running from his designation and hoping that people wouldn't find out that he was an omega. Until Ilya Rozanov came along and showed him that it was okay to be an omega in the league. After all, he did win three cups as an omega captain of the Montreal Voyageurs. Now he is the Alternate Captain of the Ottawa Centaurs and has just completed a three-peat alongside his husband and their close friends, and is living as an omega who (thankfully) doesn't have to hide behind scent blockers anymore. He has everything a man could ever want. A loving spouse, a cute dog, two amazing parents, friends who would support you through anything, and a community of supportive allies. He has everything...except for a child. Will he be able to carry a child, or will the toll that hockey has taken on his body catch up to the thirty-four-year-old and prevent him from ever giving Ilya a mini-Hollonov to run around their house?
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 26,216
- Chapters:
- 10/10
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75302256
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Pain Has a Memory by orphan_account
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-30
After a sudden, crippling migraine causes Shane to collapse at home, Ilya returns to find him unconscious and surrounded by scattered pills, spurred by Anya’s urgent warnings. The scene plunges Ilya into old fears as paramedics rush Shane to the hospital. With Yuna and David at their side, Shane slowly regains consciousness to help the family weave comfort, reassurance, and unspoken love through the quiet moments between fear and recovery.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,866
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76714731
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i'm your biggest fan, mr. hollander by orphan_account
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-30
Shane blinked away the easy haziness settling over his mind and turned, his mouth going dry and his heart stuttering to a stop in his chest as he pieced together what was happening. One of Shane’s extra jerseys – one used almost exclusively for photos – was pulled across Ilya’s body, clinging to his chest and shoulders and loosening around his waist where his body tapered in. “Oh my God,” Shane exhaled, fairly certain that he might be dying and this was the first glimpse of heaven he was going to get. Ilya turned slowly, grinning, and showed off the HOLLANDER spreading across his back and Shane’s number branding him. “You played so well, Mr. Hollander. I’m such a fan of you.” or, hollanov roleplay with ilya in shane's jersey
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,840
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76686331
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Everything was on the verge of spiralling; he had felt that rush of familiarity—a distinct feeling he experienced just before everything went badly. A pattern. Everything had felt off. He'd woken up this morning with a terrible headache and a familiar heaviness in his chest. In which Shane Hollander has the worst day ever.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,001
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76742101
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Cliff just doesn't understand what makes Hollander so special.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,619
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76656341
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Gym owner Shane Hollander is captivated by new member Ilya Rozanov, a mysterious former hockey player turned youth coach. As their connection grows through workouts, walks, and quiet moments, both struggle with honesty and vulnerability.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 59,547
- Chapters:
- 18/18
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75118296
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Shane getting his back blown out while wearing his boyfriends jersey, send tweet.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,926
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76552676
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Weirdo in the Hoodie by orphan_account
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-25
JJ patted Hayden on the back when the video sprung from the collision to Hayden's punches. Honestly he was pretty impressed with himself. He was able to get a few good swings at Marlow in before the refs separated them- but that wasn’t important right now. He could feel good about it after he knew Shane was okay. Besides, for some reason Hayden wasn’t focused on his form while punching. He didn't even notice the rest of his teammates' fighting for Shanes honor. For some reason his gaze lingered on Rozanov. Rozanov who looked pained at Shane crumpling. Rozanov who seemed scared for his rival. Rozanov who wore his heart on his sleeve while skating up to Shane. Did Hayden get punched so hard he started seeing things? - Or, Hayden starts putting together the puzzle of Ilya Rozanov while on his way to the hospital to visit Shane. Too bad he has no idea that Shane Hollander is also a part of this puzzle.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,925
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76297526
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Away from the rink and under a different kind of heat. The island felt like a dare. Palm fronds leaned low over white sand, the air thick with salt and sweetness, the ocean breathing in slow, blue laps. It was the kind of place that looked fake until you stepped barefoot into it and realized it was real—and that made it worse, somehow. Shane had always done better with things that hurt a little. Cold rinks. Sharp edges. Rivalries that burned hot enough to keep him upright. Ilya, apparently, did not have that problem. He was already sprawled on a lounge chair like he’d been born to tropical vacations instead of raised on ice and spite, sunglasses pushed up into his curls, skin gleaming with sweat and sun. He tipped his head when Shane came closer, smile lazy and dangerous. “Relax,” Ilya said. “Your shoulders are up by your ears.” Shane snorted and dropped his bag onto the sand. “You’re the one who booked this place.” “Together,” Ilya corrected. “We agreed. A truce.” Shane looked at him. Really looked. No gear, no boards between them, no roar of a crowd. Just Ilya, bare-chested, smug, and devastatingly at ease. Out in the open, like they’d promised. Like they’d both been terrified of. “A truce,” Shane echoed. “For one week.” Ilya grinned. “Plenty of time.” That should have been a warning. They didn’t last an hour before the rivalry crept back in, curling around their ankles like a cat that pretended not to care but absolutely did. It lived in the way Shane challenged Ilya to swim farther out. In the way Ilya beat him back to shore and laughed, breathless, water slicking down his torso. “You cheated,” Shane said. “You’re just slow,” Ilya shot back. “Age.” “I’m the same age as you.” “Details.” They lay on their towels afterward, sun beating down, the sound of waves filling the space where trash talk usually lived. Shane closed his eyes, letting the heat sink in. His skin prickled, already pinking. “You’re going to burn,” Ilya said. “I’ll live.” Ilya propped himself up on one elbow. Shane could feel his gaze like a physical thing, dragging slow and unapologetic. “I have sunscreen.” “So do I.” “Yes,” Ilya said, “but I offered.” Shane opened one eye. “You offering now?” Ilya’s smile shifted. Less lazy. More intent. “I am a generous man.” Something in Shane’s chest tightened. He sat up, grabbed his own bottle from his bag, and held it up. “I’m good.” Ilya made a little tsk sound. “Stubborn.” “Competitive.” “Sexy flaw,” Ilya said lightly, then reached out and plucked the bottle from Shane’s hand. Shane sputtered. “Hey—” “Already touching,” Ilya pointed out. He flicked the cap open with his thumb. “Too late.” Shane could have taken it back. He didn’t. He let Ilya pour a cool line of lotion into his palm instead, watched his eyes track the motion. The air shifted, thickened. “Front or back?” Ilya asked. Shane swallowed. “Back.” Ilya’s hands were warm. The contrast made Shane hiss as sunscreen spread across his shoulders, firm palms working it in. Not clinical. Not rushed. Fingers dragging, thumbs pressing into muscle like Ilya was memorizing him. Like he’d earned the right. “You’re tense,” Ilya murmured, close enough now that Shane could feel his breath. “Still think I’m going to stab you in the back?” Shane laughed, a rough sound. “You would.” “Only if you deserved it.” Ilya leaned in, just a fraction. His hands slid lower, down Shane’s spine, stopping at the small of his back. He lingered there, deliberate. Testing. Shane’s pulse kicked. “You done?” “No,” Ilya said softly. “Sides.”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,011
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75919556
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A lot to live without by orphan_account
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-12-14
After pressing a kiss on Ilya’s lips, Shane tucks himself against his side and meets his eyes. “Feeling okay?” The question presses onto Ilya’s heart. It has the same reasoning behind it as to why Anya is allowed on their bed just this once. It is also why he’d rather sleep through the entire day. Eyes closed again, Ilya nods. He gives himself a few seconds before opening them again. “Is not as bad as long time ago. Feels like I am allowed to miss her now and be happy at same time.” Stern whispers coming from the other side of the door wake Ilya up. The fog of sleep drifts away slowly, yet he refuses to open his eyes. In the back of his head he knows his body won’t allow him to doze off again. That doesn’t stop him from still trying, though. A frustrated groan escapes his mouth as he rolls over and pushes his face into the pillow. The thought of smothering himself with it so he can pass out and sleep some more flickers through his mind. “Anya- no, come here!” Before he can even lift his head, a heavy weight lands on Ilya’s back and pushes an ‘oof ’ out of him. A wet nose is pressed to his cheek, the sound of panting getting closer to his ear. His protest against waking up crumbles immediately. Whilst squinting his eyes open to get used to the light, he carefully rolls onto his back. Anya then once again jumps on top of him. “Pretty girl,” Ilya mumbles as he wraps his arms around her. She excitedly wags her body along with her tail and pushes her nose back to his cheek. He can’t help but fall into laughter, trying to avoid her attempts at kisses. In the corner of his eye Ilya notices Shane watching them. His smile grows even bigger. “Pretty boy.” Shane snorts at that. “She’s been trying to get in for hours,” he says as he walks over and climbs into the bed. After pressing a kiss on Ilya’s lips, Shane tucks himself against his side and meets his eyes. “Feeling okay?” The question presses onto Ilya’s heart. It has the same reasoning behind it as to why Anya is allowed on their bed just this once. It is also why he’d rather sleep through the entire day. Eyes closed again, Ilya nods. He gives himself a few seconds before opening them again. “Is not as bad as long time ago. Feels like I am allowed to miss her now and be happy at same time.” Today marks another anniversary of Irina Rozanova’s death. Throughout the years Ilya’s coping mechanisms have changed drastically. Most of them involving alcohol, fighting or working out until he couldn’t breathe. Afterwards he’d always find his mother’s grave and lie down next to her, falling asleep for a few hours. That isn’t a possibility anymore. Marrying his husband had also meant that he would never be able to go back to Russia. And even though Ilya would make that choice a thousand times over, he feels a bit lost every time this day arrives. Shane presses a kiss to Ilya’s hand, which is closed around the pendant of his necklace. “Go take a shower whenever you’re ready, okay? Then I’ll make you some breakfast.” He brushes a curl out of Ilya’s face and looks at him. The soft smile turns a bit sheepish, a tinge of red creeping onto his cheeks. “I uh-, I also brought a bottle of vodka. And your secret pack of cigarettes - which is far too easy to find, by the way.” For a few seconds Ilya just stares at him. Then he starts laughing, pulling Shane even closer. A wave of serenity washes over him as he breathes out the last giggles. “Hollander, you are terrible therapist. Terrible, awful.” His grin seeps into his voice. He presses a longer kiss onto Shane’s lips and grabs his hand to intertwine their fingers. “But you are the most amazing husband. Thank you.” They stay like that for a while. When the silence in his head starts to turn into a building pressure, Ilya decides to finally get out of bed. “I am going to shower. No healthy breakfast, yes? Is sad day for me, you have to be nice. Yogurt with granola is not nice.” “I would never,” Shane laughs, not even trying to sound believable. They have an unspoken agreement that Ilya tries his breakfast first before making something else. It’s not a huge success. So far, only two or three times he has gotten a positive reaction. Shane is pretty sure all of those had been lies to make him happy, but he’ll gladly play along if that means Ilya eats a healthy breakfast once in a while. After a last kiss, Ilya walks to the bathroom and turns on the shower. The pressure in his head is still growing - breaking down the walls he built for it. By the time his skin finally meets the scorching hot water, he has to put his hand against the wall to prevent himself from falling over. His mind races with thoughts he wouldn’t even dare to speak out loud. Not to Galina, especially not to Shane. The pendant hanging from his necklace finds itself in his other hand as he slowly drops down against the wall. When he is seated, one arm around his knees, he lets his head hang. Ilya Rozanov does not believe a god exists. Just like the fairytales his father had spoiled for him at a young age, Ilya has left that part of his culture and childhood behind. However, he will always revisit the faith he once desperately clung onto just in case. He doesn’t believe it works, he refuses to even acknowledge a god that has taken so much from him. But his mother did and that is all he has left from her. So Ilya prays. He speaks to his mother, apologises to her for everything she had to endure - despite none of it being his fault. He begs her to visit him in his dreams, even if it is in another nightmare. His arms are shaking and his tears blend in with the steaming water as he pleads for her to come back to him. It takes some time for him to calm down again. Whilst he gets his breathing back under control, he washes his hair and scrubs his body with shaky breaths. The fingers that had been clamped around the pendant now carry angry red indents with a pain he ignores. Ilya turns the shower off after what could have been either five or fifty minutes, quickly dries off and puts on black joggers. Back in the bedroom he takes off the bedding and replaces it with clean sheets. Shane had been very persistent in not wanting Anya on the bed, yet still let her go this morning. Changing the sheets so Shane won’t have to worry about them is the least Ilya can do. He throws the old bedding into the laundry basket, slides into his slippers and then makes his way to the kitchen. The gnawing feeling around his heart lessens upon hearing music and soft singing. “I am still dreaming. My husband is almost too perfect.” With a grin he wraps his arms around Shane, who transfers the fried eggs to the avocado toast and then turns around. Ilya holds his face as if it’s made out of porcelain to study the freckles he knows by heart. His own grin softens to a genuine smile after they share a kiss. “What do you mean ‘almost’?” The playful tone in Shane’s voice feeds his expression. He raises an eyebrow at Ilya, gesturing to the plate full of food and the bowl of fruit next to it. “I’d say I’m pretty much nailing this marriage thing.”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,502
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75749866
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Hockey boyfriends Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander attempt to buy and decorate a Christmas tree… with predictably chaotic results. Between Ilya’s questionable taste, Shane’s exasperation, and more kisses than strictly necessary, the holiday season turns into their sweetest, messiest adventure yet.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,614
- Chapters:
- 4/4
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75223496
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where's the trophy? (he just comes running over to me) by orphan_account
Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-11-30
Another reporter stood. “Be honest, Ilya. People believe he left you.” Ilya finally leaned forward a fraction, resting his elbows on the table. His voice was soft. Too soft. Dangerously soft. “He did not leave,” he murmured. —> where the entire hockey community believes Shane Hollander divorced Ilya Rozanov for good.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,331
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75008746
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Lights, Cameras, Charity by orphan_account
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-10-29
At a glamorous Toronto hockey charity gala, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov navigate flashing cameras, high society, and a secret relationship. Between playful teasing, stolen glances, and slow-burn tension, the two struggle to keep their feelings hidden — but some sparks are impossible to ignore.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,697
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #73313866