241 – 260 of 515 Works in Domestic Fluff
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the hot mic heard around the world (or how hollanov broke the internet) by pucksandpower
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-13
The hot mic incident was just the beginning. Now the internet watches in real-time as Ilya’s Spotify playlist gets leaked (with NOTES), Shane attempts subtlety (narrator: he fails), they bicker about boy bands on late night TV, someone admits to having a ring for six months ON TWITTER, and approximately 20 different social media platforms collectively lose their goddamn minds. Featuring: journalists having breakdowns, Reddit threads that require moderator intervention, TikTok compilations with 1.2M views, brand partnerships from Skittles, a plague of engagement speculation, and two hockey players who cannot stop being chaotic disasters on main. The fandom was writing fic about them. Turns out reality is messier, queerer, and somehow MORE unhinged. [or social media reacts to the week following the Hot Mic Incident™, told entirely through tweets, Reddit posts, Instagram stories, podcast transcripts, and the world’s most romantic Spotify playlist]
- Part 2 of hot mics and hotter rivalries
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 11,067
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77626776
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and it was all yellow by belowtherabbithole
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-12
Shane keeps getting random packages sent to his door for an Ilya Rozanov. Problem is - he has no idea who that is. It's really frustrating. Lucky for him when they do meet, Ilya Rozanov is a tall, blonde, gorgeous model. Hm. Less frustrating.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,614
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77545366
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Ilya and Shane are thirty-six years old with two kids, and Ilya thinks it's time to retire.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,547
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77530066
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the only thing that keeps the cold out by starshineandhappythoughts
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-12
When Shane woke up warm, comfortable, and wrapped in Ilya's arms, it wasn't much different from how he'd fallen asleep - fucked out, exhausted, and holding on to Ilya. Awake or asleep, they simply gravitated towards each other. It had been months now, and Shane still relished in every night that he got to fall asleep beside his husband and wake up curled into him.
- Part 1 of
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,143
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77538096
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the lasagna incident by alaska_was_taken
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-12
or Jackie Pike has known about Shane and Ilya ever since she caught Ilya delivering Shane's home-made lasagna to her doorstep because Shane was running late to meet his parents for dinner, and (one of) Ilya's love languages is 'acts of service'
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,274
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77567231
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What a Catch by Apropos_of_Nothing
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-12
David takes Shane and Ilya fishing during their week at the cottage.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,640
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77538676
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Ilya Rozanov would be tempted to enact Cold War levels of biological warfare against his opponent if only Scott Hunter didn’t already look as awful as he feels. The other hockey player faces him, sending a death stare in his direction and clutching his stick in a way that would be intimidating if he weren’t Scott Fucking Hunter and if it wasn’t obvious he wasn’t trying with all his might to prevent himself from taking a nosedive onto the ice. Ilya would manage a quip if he could muster the energy to - something about how the old man should really have taken a sick day - but keeps his mouth shut, totally because he doesn’t want to kick someone when they’re obviously already down, not in any way because his own throat hurts too much to talk of course. Ilya Rozanov would be tempted to enact Cold War levels of biological warfare against his opponent if only Scott Hunter didn’t already look as awful as he feels. The other hockey player faces him, sending a death stare in his direction and clutching his stick in a way that would be intimidating if he weren’t Scott Fucking Hunter and if it wasn’t obvious he wasn’t trying with all his might to prevent himself from taking a nosedive onto the ice. Ilya would manage a quip if he could muster the energy to - something about how the old man should really have taken a sick day - but keeps his mouth shut, totally because he doesn’t want to kick someone when they’re obviously already down, not in any way because his own throat hurts too much to talk of course. Maybe this game will be easier than he thought; the Centaurs seem to be faring at least a little better than their big apple competitors, who seem to be in worse form, if that’s even possible considering how terrible Ilya feels, several of the opposing team coughing into fists or sniffling so loudly it hurts his already pounding head. Barrett has been borderline obsessive since the very start of whatever it is that has been making the rounds of the league, not wanting to risk getting Harris sick and although the team haven’t completely averted it, they are mostly at full capacity; Hayes on top form after being out for the last game, Luca at the tail end of the worst of it, and Boodram somehow managing to skate free from the cold that has been working its way through the rest of the team. In all honesty, they probably should have cancelled. The idea was toyed with this morning, or at the very least presented as a possibility to Ilya when he reluctantly fessed up at morning practice to the fact that he’d been running a fever since last night. It had been the fault of the New York Admirals that they didn’t withdraw, thanks to a stalemate sparked by the word on the street being that their opponents - and particularly their star captain - were struck down with this same flu and might pull out before they could. Neither team withdrew, as had become all too clear with just an hour before the game. I can play, Ilya insisted. And so here they are. Ilya’s stick catches the puck first, Hunter just a moment too slow after him. God, Ilya thinks. The poor guy should just give it up; he is sure good old Kip Grady will be somewhere in the crowds waiting for the end of the last period so he can wrangle his fiance into bed with a blanket and a mug of honey-lemon tea and enough nyquil to dose a horse or just a hockey player with a bad case of man-flu after the game. Although perhaps he is projecting. Someone from the other team - he doesn’t care to register who - checks him, and somewhere in the chaos Ilya ends up being the one to almost take a nosedive onto the ice, his balance off but whether from the loss of his ego or the blade flying from his skate without his knowledge he isn’t entirely sure. For a brief second - less than a second really - he stays like that, staring down at the ice on his hands and knees and contemplating walking out of the rink without so much as a glance back. He’s still considering it as he maneuvers himself off the ice to fix the aforementioned blade issue, but he shakes his head when someone - the coach or a trainer or perhaps someone on the bench - asks him if he wants to tap out. Besides, he doesn’t have his own bed and significant other waiting for him on the other side of this game like Scott Hunter does. Shane is god knows where, on the other side of the fucking country or something at some fucking gala event for one of his fucking sponsors or whatever and so Ilya will be returning to convalesce in his fucking New York hotel room alone after this fucking game, with only a fucking facetime call to tide him over if he’s lucky. This fucking game. This fucking city. This fucking cold. He chokes against the metallic taste coating the back of his mouth, somehow managing to suppress the coughing fit which has been threatening since the end of the first period. If he had to bet, he figures he has the best gag reflex in the entire league, but so much as thinking about the presence of his mouth guard at this moment clattering against his teeth has him fearing he might blow chunks on the ice if he isn't careful. He can only imagine what the commentators might say, the headlines the next morning. He hates this, he hisses as the Admirals level the score. His body not feeling right, not feeling like his own. He’s used to the satisfying hum of muscle memory, being where he needs to be a moment before he even thinks about it. He’s still moving fast, still playing like he always does for the most part, but typically by this point in the game adrenaline is making itself at home; right now, the only thing making itself at home is the fucking crud in his chest. Scott is the one who scored, and Ilya watches him celebrate in envious disbelief, the older hockey player seemingly having taken on a second wind during the intermission. Ilya should ask him for advice on whatever home remedy has seemingly worked its magic, but he has a strong suspicion it has something to do with the man’s fiance in the crowd; a likely promise of the healing properties of true love’s kiss… or true love’s sucking of a dick, he smirks. “Having trouble keeping up, Rozanov?” Scott remarks, although it doesn’t have the intended bite coming from a man who at present sounds like a dying cat. “Oh are you, Hunter?” he furrows his brow, hoping his own hoarse voice sounds at least a little more rugged and less ridiculous. They share a knowing glance. It’s anyone’s game really, with the playing field levelled like this but it is the Centaurs who just barely manage to take the win by the end, a just-missed save allowing them to take back the lead when it really mattered. Ilya doesn’t gloat, and the celebrations are quite frankly a subdued affair, most of the players on the ice already burying their red noses into tissues and in a rush to get off the rink. “Good game,” Scott reaches a hand out to shake Ilya’s, before he hesitates, figuring it’s maybe not the best course of action when he is blatantly contagious. “It wasn’t,” Ilya takes Scott’s hand, shakes it firmly, running the back of his other hand against his dripping nose with a smirk. “But get well soon, yes? Beating you will feel better if actually fair next time.” “Yeah this cold’s a killer. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking; I wouldn’t want to get you sick.” “Too late.”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,947
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77570846
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i could give you all the olive trees by jinjjiri
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-01-12
Ilya could kiss Shane's stylist and his whole glam team on the mouth for whatever they have done for Shane, but he'll stick to actually kissing Shane instead. Or Ilya malfunctions when faced with Shane in Armani silk shirts, a set of Bulgari, and Loubutins.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,379
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77570291
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Conversations between Yuna, Ilya and Shane. Set during series 1, episode 6.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,037
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77553681
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Ilya wants so many mornings with Shane that he takes waking up to those freckles for granted. He wants to know how Shane takes his coffee, how he picks out his clothes, what he puts in those stupid healthy smoothies he’s always drinking. He wants to know everything about Shane, all the little things that he’s never seen before. He wants to know him. Better than he knows himself. And it’s terrifying. So Ilya deals with his feelings the only way he knows how - (kitchen) sex Ilya has known Shane for his entire NHL career. Almost 10 years, off and on, in hotel rooms and apartments, through loss and trauma and stolen moments. Ilya knows what Shane looks like when he’s thinking too deeply, when he needs help to shut off his brain. When he’s desperate, needy and right on the edge. Ilya knows what he looks like when he cums, hands free, moaning out Ilya’s name into the air like a prayer. And he knows that look Shane has, impossibly fond, the one that always turns Ilya’s guts inside out. He knows he loves him, and he knows - terrifyingly - that Shane might just love him back. But he doesn’t know Shane. It’s never more apparent to him than now, standing in Shane’s cottage, waiting for the coffee to finish percolating. It’s the first time that he’s been alone in Shane’s home and he’s fascinated. It’s even more Shane than the apartment he’s only seen in the background of Facetime calls. Shane once admitted that most things in his apartment were picked out by a designer he hired when he first moved to Montreal. This place though? It has the little touches that just scream Shane’s practical taste - in the furniture, the art, and cheesy throw pillows his mom must have bought him. Ilya sees him in the family photos on the wall, moments in Shane’s life that he’s never even heard about before. Ilya wants to belong here. He wants to be in the photos on the wall, to have a say on the new rug that Shane talked about getting under the dining room table. He wants to wake up next to Shane beyond just these two weeks. Ilya wants so many mornings with Shane that he takes waking up to those freckles for granted. He wants to know how Shane takes his coffee, how he picks out his clothes, what he puts in those stupid healthy smoothies he’s always drinking. He wants to know everything about Shane, all the little things that he’s never seen before. He wants to know him. Better than he knows himself. And it’s terrifying. “You know,” Shane says, brushing past Ilya in the kitchen. “It doesn’t actually drip faster if you stare at it like that.” “No? Thought that was the saying - a watched pot always boils.” Shane laughs as he pours himself a cup, so at home here, in his loose t-shirt that’s wet at the collar from his shower. “A watched pot never boils. Coffee?” “Da. Your English idioms are stupid.” “Agree with you there. How do you take it?” “Black is fine.” Shane hands him the cup he just poured, in some cheesy tourist mug from some attraction in Ottowa. He pours another mug, and Ilya watches intently at the amount of milk that Shane pours into his mug. Shane’s oblivious to Ilya’s observation, he sips his coffee, looking at the lake out of the window. “Looks like it might rain today. I was hoping we could take out the kayaks.” “You have kayaks?” He’s distracted, not quite sure what a kayak is beyond some kind of boat. Ilya’s attention has moved to the way that Shane’s throat moves when he swallows his coffee, and the way that the water from his hair slides across it, soaking into the collar of his shirt. God, he wants Shane in so many ways but this is the most familiar. The heavy swooping in his gut, the way that he knows, instinctively, how Shane will react when he touches him. It’s familiar. He wants it now. Doesn’t think he’ll ever stop wanting it. “Yeah, it’s a good workout, going across the bay and back.” He crosses to the fridge, opens it to stare inside. “What do you want for breakfast?” He’s close enough now that Ilya can reach out, tug at his elbow until he’s closer. “What?” Shane asks, standing in front of him. “Hungry for something else,” Ilya says, taking the coffee mug out of his hands, setting them both behind him on the counter. “Want you.” “I just showered,” Shane sighs as Ilya’s lips land on the mark he left the night before, tongue sliding to taste every inch of him. “Ilya…” And god, Ilya’s addicted to the way that his first
- Part 1 of Got Me Goin’ Like (Ooh)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,342
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77574576
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The Beginning of a Perfectly Boring Life by iminthisstanshit
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-12
If the Hollander-Rozanov family kept a diary of their boring lives, these would be the things they would write about. or The one where Shane and Ilya become parents, and their life is boring in the most perfect way
- Part 1 of The Diary of a Boring Life
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,064
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77575986
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Shane has a meet-cute in the produce aisle. Ilya briefly contemplates murder via shopping cart.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,037
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77572481
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Ilya pads out of the bedroom, poking his head around the corner. Shane is attempting to take off one of his shoes, balanced on one of his feet and his hand braced on the wall. He still seems to be losing the battle, and Ilya realizes some things in quick succession: Something is wrong with Shane. Shane is giggling as he fails to take off a shoe. Therefore—Shane is drunk. Ilya grins. ~*~*~*~*~*~ Shane comes home drunk. Ilya loves him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,182
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77471061
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One game a year the players are allowed to wear their hockey icon's jersey Or Ilya wears Shane's jersey and gets jealous at Shane for wearing another mans jersey
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,971
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77505111
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Shane rides Ilya into a religious experience, and into the headboard. or Ilya finally gets his bell rung back.
- Part 2 of A concussion kind of love
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,091
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77508666
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Shane isn't like the other omegas, he's a hockey omega. No but really Shane thinks that he doesn't have any omega traits, turns out he just needed a little help from a friendly alpha to prove that he does.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,404
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77495791
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there's nowhere else i'd rather be by boycomics
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-11
“We do not ask for much,” Ilya’s voice chimed in from behind Shane as strong arms wrapped around his waist, Ilya propping his head on Shane’s shoulder. “And is not a school night…” “You ask for plenty,” Shane joked with a roll of his eyes, but he knew he was already no match for the two of them. “But she definitely doesn't ask for too much. So you can stay up for one extra hour.” or Shane & Ilya's daughter convince them (well, Shane) to let her have a movie marathon.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,336
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77477556
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”What is this?” “License to Live. My mom and I watched it a lot when I was a kid.” “Ah. So is boring movie?” ”Fuck you.” Shane threw a piece of popcorn at him. Ilya caught it with his mouth, moving to take the entire bowl from his hands instead. “Why is he in hospital? What happened?” He suddenly demanded, furrowing his eyebrows at the screen. “Car accident,” Shane responded flatly after a few moments. A few seconds of silence passed by them. “In Russia, she would have hit him for leaving bed.” Ilya suddenly said, crunching on a piece of popcorn loudly. Shane pressed a cold can of coke to his leg. “Shut up, I’m trying to watch the movie,” He said, throwing him a quick glare before reaching over to grab the blanket off the end of the couch. ______________ 4 times Hollanov talked too much during movies and 1 time they didn’t.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,591
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77482831
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Ilya wants to know if Shane would still love him if he were a worm. A question that requires a lot of consideration. --- 'Yes, I would love you if you were a worm,' Shane lied and stroked Ilya's hair softly. He leaned down closer, 'I'd love you even if you were a better hockey player than me.' It was a sign of Ilya's state of consciousness that he didn't rise to this bait, only shifted his head and pushed his lips out to plant a kiss on Shane's thigh. He sighed contentedly, snuggling into Shane and back into a deep sleep.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,662
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77485826
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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