1 – 20 of 23 Works in Minor Characters

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  1. Despite the *obvious* interest on both their parts (standing naked under a shower makes it hard to hide certain feelings) Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov don’t hook up after the CCM shoot. A few years later, when they’re both Captains of their respective teams, Ilya comes out as bisexual. Shane immediately makes his move to lock down the boy he’s had a crush on all this time, before it’s too late. After a surprise at a post-game press conference and a challenge from the Raiders, Shane has to convince Ilya he is serious about having a real relationship in front of professional hockey and the entire internet. Will it work? There’s only one way to find out!

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  2. Ilya Rozanov is a 23-year old grad student playing hockey at Boston College, comfortably bisexual, and definitely human. Shane Hollander is none of those things.

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  3. Author’s note:
    Hi everyone! It’s been awhile. Sorry this chapter is late. I was traveling over the weekend and my plane almost crashed, it lost an engine mid-air but thankfully we landed safely and everyone is ok. But I was writing this chapter with the plane wifi so I lost half of my edits and had to rewrite it. Hope you enjoy!

    Or: Luca Haas, Hollanov fanboy extraordinaire, suffers through a series of unfortunate events.

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  4. Yuna Hollander is the greatest and most terrifying hockey witch in the world. In 2008, a young Russian hockey player travels with his team to have her predict his future. He doesn't know she has a son his age. He's about to find out a lot more than he ever expected.

    Or, what if Heated Rivalry was a soulmate AU with witchcraft, curses, and elemental powers?

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  5. Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov announce their marriage on Instagram mere hours before the first Metros v. Raiders game of 2017. The internet reacts.

    (A bonus fic for those who enjoyed headfirst into shallow pools !)

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  6. Haley
    Hi Shane! Just messaging about our heater again. Do you think we could get it fixed today?
    Shane
    So sorry for the late reply, Haley! I’m at the Olympics and my time zones are all messed up. Messaged my HVAC guy and he’ll be there in the morning.

    Haley
    screenshot.jpg
    Wtf?
    Katie
    Is this guy fr???

    Or: the trials and tribulations of renting from Shane Hollander.

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  7. rpfactorfiction

    Oh my god, I didn't know there were any copies of this left on the internet. For those who don't know, this is like. This is a foundational text of hockey RPF. This is from before hockey RPF was really a thing even. It's from the mid-aughts and wasn't posted to a fanfiction website. Instead, OP dropped this insane RPF manifesto onto a normal ass hockey fan forum (which no longer exists) then deleted their account like two days later. Just handed this to a bunch of jocks and hockey bros and dipped. Legendary shit. Like, I don't think this kid even knew what fanfiction was, the fucking hand of god just compelled him to write about being an MLH player's sex slave and show it to the world. I pray every day that this insane child actually made it to the MLH and got to meet Scott Hunter.


    So maybe Shane had a little crush on Scott Hunter in his younger years. So maybe he anonymously posted online about it once. So maybe it had become an internet legend and a running joke in the MLH.

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  8. After stumbling and falling in the game against the Centaurs, Shane is accused by his teammates and the Montreal Metros management team of throwing the game to Ilya as a result of their relationship being exposed after the FanMail incident.
    Shane is forced to give a post-game interview in the midst of a dissociative episode.
    Until an incriminating question from a reporter causes the rubber band inside him to snap, and Shane says all the things he shouldn't say.
    Except that he actually should.

    Or,
    aka the author ranting about the Montreal Metros/Voyageurs being assholes.

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  9. Ilya convinces Shane to go to the club with him. While wearing a plug. This goes about how you’d expect.

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  10. Svetlana
    Jackie please note I am not trying to seduce your husband

    Jackie
    oh honey I’d happily watch that!!

    Svetlana
    I would break him

    Rose
    yes you would

    ---

    Or, Jackie’s POV during Hayden and Svetlana’s best man adventures, ft. more chaotic group chats, new friendships, and ill-advised partying.

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  11. Unknown Number
    Pike
    prepare yourself
    you have a lot to make up for after fucking Brad so take this seriously

    I’m sorry who is this??

    Unknown Number
    Ilya’s best man

    oh my god
    is this fucking cliff marlow?

    Unknown Number
    No
    much prettier and wiser
    My name is Svetlana

    ---

    Shane and Ilya are very chill about their wedding planning. Thankfully, their best men are more than ready to step up.

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  12. “Rozanov needs a place to stay. His visa won’t allow him to go home to Russia over the break, and we don’t have the cash to put him in a hotel.”

    Did the Harvard dorms completely shut down over the winter break? What about the dining hall? Shane supposed he didn’t really know. He’d never stuck around to find out, when he was younger. 

    “Okay?” 

    Coach raised his eyebrows. “So, he’s staying with you.” 

    Shane’s eyes went wide. 

    “What?” 

    “Come on, Captain,” Wiebe looked down his nose at Shane. “Try not to look too thrilled.”

     
    *

     
    or, Shane's a senior captain with an empty house over winter break. and Ilya's the freshman who will be crashing his Christmas. 

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  13. “Um. Hi,” Shane starts, looking down at the boy. The boy just looks up at him, a puzzled expression on his face. “кто ты?” The boy says in some funny language Shane has never heard of. “Um.. I only speak English.” The boy's eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t seem all too deterred by the language barrier. Instead, he hands Shane a piece of pink chalk. He points to the drawing he’s been working on, saying something in that funny language again Or: Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov meet when they are six. They aren’t rivals, but they still fall in love. Some small moments in that process.

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  14. Shane Hollander is obsessed with resting his head on Ilya's chest after the plane crash Incident.

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  15. Shane rolls onto his side and stares at the faint outline of the window. The darkness presses in, but it doesn’t feel as suffocating as usual.

    Before he can talk himself out of it, he reaches for his phone. The screen lights up the room, too bright. His thumb hovers for a second, then he opens the thread.

    Shane: I think we should tell Scott.

    OR:

    Scott kissing a man on live television gives Shane and Ilya the courage to do more than just spend the summer together. What starts as coming out to one person suddenly snowballs into something much bigger. It changes everything, except how much they love each other.

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  16. A snowstorm derails the Centaurs' travel plans. Shane and Ilya get sent to an...interesting B&B as a result. (Set post-TLG, but no actual plot details from that book are discussed.)

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  17. He snagged a cue stick from the wall and set up the break. Leaned over the table and rolled the polished wood between his fingers, getting a feel for its weight. Then, with one eye closed, he lined up the shot like a rifle and struck, watching the balls scatter like shrapnel. It was one of his best breaks yet, and Shane lifted his head instinctively, half-hoping one of his roommates had appeared at exactly the right moment. Instead, he found the bartender. OR: Bartender Ilya Rozanov challenges university student Shane Hollander to a game of pool (inspired by that one picture of Hudson playing pool — iykyk)

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  18. "On the ice, he acted quick. Found the puck fast, moved to the net faster. Years of experience had honed his reflexes into second nature. But here, off the ice, wearing ROZANOV on his back like some doe-eyed puck bunny in the stands, his brain short-circuited completely." Or: Shane accidentally wears Ilya’s shirt into the locker room. “Oh.” Ilya rested his head back on the pillow, looking over at Shane. “So you are the asshole.” A wide smile stayed frozen on Shane’s face. He couldn’t help it. “No, it’s still you.” “No, it’s not me.” Ilya feigned offense, thumb stabbing toward Shane. “You’re the asshole.” He sat up an inch and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Everyone! Shane Hollander is an asshole!” Shane’s grin was starting to hurt his cheeks, his laughter coming easier than it had in months. He gave Ilya a playful shove, sending him tumbling back into the pillows. In an accent that had begun to fade, Ilya added, “I am feeling too good to lose tonight, anyway.” “Oh yeah?” Shane turned onto his side, propped on an elbow. “’Cause I’m feeling pretty good too.” “No shit,” Ilya murmured, sliding a hand beneath the sheets to squeeze Shane’s thigh, spurring an echo of pleasure that still clung to the edges of his mind. Sunlight soaked their bare chests, a rarity when their time together was usually isolated to late nights and unfamiliar hotel rooms. It felt better than Shane was willing to admit. Almost normal. The thought sobered him. In reality, they were both supposed to be on the ice in a few short hours. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, eyes widening. “Shit, Ilya. We’re late.” Ilya’s eyelids had gone heavy, an arm flung over his face. “Hm?” “I need to get back to my hotel for pickup,” Shane hissed, kicking the sheets aside. Behind him, Ilya groaned, long and dramatic. How he’d earned the captaincy with his complete indifference to punctuality baffled Shane. Then again, no one seemed to mind when he kept dragging Boston to victory night after night. It took effort not to marvel at him in those brief moments from the bench, the way he made it all look effortless. Their clothes lay in a heap by the bedroom door. He hadn’t even folded them. Shane scooped up half the pile and tossed it across the room, a pant leg smacking Ilya in the cheek. “Sorry.” “Liar,” Ilya groaned, expression pinched as he slipped free of the sheets and stretched, arms reaching overhead. Shane was already tugging on his sweats, shirt slung over his arm, when he caught sight of Ilya dangling off the edge of the mattress. Light brown curls stood in every direction, a faint sheen still clung to the dip of his spine, a wrinkle pressed into his skin. For a moment, panic gave way to something softer. There were few things he allowed to disrupt his routine, and Ilya had held the top spot since they were eighteen. Shane crossed the room in a few long strides, leaning in to press a firm kiss to his lips. “See you soon, Rozanov.” Ilya’s hand came up, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him closer, deepening it. "Stop trying to distract me,” he murmured against Ilya’s mouth. “Stop trying to leave,” Ilya countered, fingers twisting into Shane’s hair, tugging lightly. It was almost enough to convince Shane to crawl onto his lap and see how quickly they could fit in round two. Or was it three? Shane bit back a sigh. “Tonight?” Ilya’s jaw ticked. “Tonight.” The distance Shane was forced to put between them had grown harder to bear lately, recent confessions weaving new threads into place. He’d ask him soon, about the cottage. Two uninterrupted weeks, no deadlines, no schedules breathing down their necks. Ilya would probably say no. But what if he didn’t? “Go,” Ilya said at last, breaking the kiss. Part of Shane was grateful, because he wasn’t sure he had the willpower to do it himself. The absence of Ilya’s touch settled in immediately, a dull ache that followed him as he turned for the door. There was a mindset Shane liked to settle into before a game, and he was struggling to reach it. It was clouded, inevitably, by the memory of Ilya’s hands roaming over bare skin, teeth at his neck, the way he’d murmured filthy encouragement as they found their rhythm and slipped into Russian when they lost it. Maybe it was for the best that they didn’t make a habit of afternoon meetings. This was torture. Traffic was thick, and Shane tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, eyes flicking to the clock again and again. Was time moving faster today? By the time he’d parked and sprinted up to his hotel room, there was barely enough time to pull on dress pants and shrug into a high-end suit jacket over a wrinkled shirt. It didn’t quite meet dress code, but he’d rather take the hit for that than further fuel Hayden’s theory that he’d been late because he was with a woman named Lily. A woman Shane had vehemently denied existed. His protests had sounded less convincing lately, and maybe he’d stopped caring if they did. Theriault waited outside the bus, and Shane was already apologizing before the coach could get a word in. “My bad, Coach.” “First for everything I suppose,” Theriault grunted, giving him a look that lingered somewhere between concern and curiosity. Shane was the captain. He was supposed to set

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  19. “Shane,” Ilya mocked, copying his lover’s tone. “I do not need my shoulder to fuck.” he said. “It’ll still be better not to put any strain on it.” Shane insisted, guiding him to walk backwards until the back of Ilya’s knees met their couch, and he was made to sit. There was a blush colouring his cheeks, but his eyes were dark and filled with desire as he stared Ilya down. “Just- just sit there, I’ll claim my reward myself.” Oh. Oh fuck. Or Ilya is injured, but that wasn’t going to stop Shane from getting rewarded for their win.

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  20. “Rozy—shit,” he manages, voice strangled, want bubbling molten and inescapable in his gut, hips trembling with the force of not rudely bucking up into Rozanov’s warm, far too talented mouth. Because I just wanted you to fuck me, he thinks after he’ s finished making Shane unravel with soft, unforgiving motions, as Rozanov—as Ilya—laves his tongue hungrily over the mess dripping down the planes of his abdomen, blinking overwhelmed tears away from the diminuendo of pleasure. But then I became greedy. And now all I want is for you to love me. Or: despite the initial fear, the world doesn't end when Shane Hollander realizes he loves Ilya Rozanov. Now, he just has to convince Ilya of that same truth. An adjusted timeline. A collection of moments. A story about completing someone, despite the odds.

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