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  1. He stopped three feet short of Theriault, skipping any kind of greeting. "You're fired."

    Theriault blinked, his mouth dropping open, but before he could muster a single word, Marius raised his right arm. He pointed an index finger across the blue line painted on the carpet, zeroing in on two specific stalls near the back bench.

    "Cameau. Drapeau. You two are traded. Get your personal stuff out of your lockers and leave the team gear right there."

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    AO3:
    #91814761
  2. "You sure about this?” Pike asked as Ilya made it to the door.

    The scent was so strong here it felt like Ilya was walking through a cloud of aerosolized candy. It felt sticky on his skin, in his hair. Ilya could feel the warm flush on the tops of his ears, across his cheeks. He blinked a few times, letting the beta’s words sink in. “Yes, fine,” he growled back.

    Thankfully, it didn’t seem like Pike was affected at all, thanks to his scent-blind beta nose. “So… there’s no easy way to say this,” the man said nervously. “The guys totally fucked up.” He handed over a plain black wallet.

    Ilya opened it, found the Boston College ID card and pulled it out. A handsome Asian boy looked back at him. He had short black hair, warm golden skin, and dark eyes. There was a shadow stretched across his cheeks, something Ilya couldn’t quite make out in the tiny picture. Shane Hollander, the card read. Sophmore. 

    “How the hell do they make this mistake?” Ilya half-shouted. He snarled again, fought against it, got his face under control. “Fuck.” 

    “Yeah,” Pike agreed. “Fuck.”

    ---

    Sometimes the first step in finding true love is to accidentally kidnap the wrong guy.

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    AO3:
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  3. What if, after they first meet at the 2008 Prospect Cup, Shane Hollander goes back to Russia with the Rozanovs to play hockey with Ilya's team for 3 months on a hockey exchange program? And what if, in preparation for this trip - which Shane knew about for months and Ilya did not - Shane learned enough Russian to get by? Oh and they're attracted to each other but neither one of them made the first move before they're on a plane together, and suddenly they've got to spend 3 months living in the same apartment, in Russia, under the watchful eyes of Ilya's family and a team full of teenage hockey players...

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    AO3:
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  4. moon chasers by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • E
    • ✓

    2026-08-21

    One side of his brain is going: this is insane, don't do this, just stay in this room, what can he do? Whether you like it or not, he's hurt you, and chances are you've hurt him too, because you can't read a situation for shit, so what are we trying to do here? Get some fucking sleep instead.

    The other side of his brain is going: He's hurt you, and you've probably hurt him too, and what if this is your only chance to talk about it? What if Paris makes the difference?

    Five months after Sochi, Shane's set to play a charity hockey game in Paris. So is Ilya.

    They run into each other in the lobby of their hotel the night before. Twelve hours stretch out in front of them, and Ilya suggests something different: no phones, no expectations, no past, no hockey. Just the city, and whatever they can be when nobody else is watching.

    It's obviously a terrible idea, but Shane says yes, anyway.

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    2 versions
    AO3:
    #84075556
  5. "He does that every time, doesn't he?" Sasha asked, not taking his eyes off Shane. "Before you fuck him. He folds his clothes. Neat little piles. Like he's preparing for something important."
    "Like he actually thinks he’ll be able to fucking go anywhere when I’m done with him," Ilya breathed.
    "Well," Sasha said, stepping close again, his hand finding Shane's waist and pulled him against his front. Shane could feel the hard line of his cock pressed against him as Sasha hooked his chin over Shane’s shoulder to stare down Ilya. He groped Shane’s pec and leered, "Ilyusha, we will see if you do anything tonight won’t we?”

    or

    35 year old Ilya Rozanov gets to live out 19 year old Ilya Rozanov's wet dream.

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    AO3:
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  6. @baseballnerd44
    HE ADOPTED HER AS A ROOKIE???

    @historybuff617
    The adoption story is actually pretty well known around Boston.

    After he was drafted, Shane flew to Japan to visit his grandparents in Kyoto before reporting to the organization.

    On the trip back, he stopped in Paris and met a young woman who was trying to escape an abusive husband.

    He helped her get safely to Canada, connected her with organizations that support women fleeing domestic violence, and stayed in contact while she got back on her feet.

    When she gave birth by the end of his first year as a professional baseball player, she made the incredibly difficult decision to place the baby for adoption.

    Shane adopted her.

    Her name is Sofia Yuna Hollander.

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    AO3:
    #89418541
  7. "You signed with the LA Kings?" she demanded. "What were you thinking? You know the plan. We'd go to the draft, get first pick, and go to Montreal."

    "What are you even talking about?" Shane shot back. "If I got first pick, I'd go to Boston, not Montreal. And I don't even want to go to Montreal."

    "Why?" Mom asked immediately. "They're one of the best teams in the league. One of the Original Six."

    Something inside him snapped, and before he even realized it, he switched to Japanese.

    "I don't know," he said, his voice tight. "Maybe because they're full of racists and homophobes. Do you even understand what I'm saying? Or have you become so white you forgot your own language?"

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    AO3:
    #87417161
  8. So, I'm trying something a little different with this new installment in the series, and I know it won't be everyone's cup of tea.

    As much as I adore M/M, I've always wanted to throw my hat into the very small pool of Female!Shane/Male!Ilya stories. I've also been itching to write the actor!Shane trope for quite some time, so I finally decided to combine the two.

    Another reason I wanted to write this fic is that, while I absolutely love exploring Shane's Japanese heritage, I realized I've been neglecting Ilya's Russian heritage throughout this series. I wanted to give that side of him more attention here and explore it in a way I haven't before.

    I really hope you'll give it a chance, and if you do, I'd love to hear what you think. I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

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    AO3:
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  9. Shane Hollander does not leave outcomes to chance. When traditional dating fails to produce the stability he wants, he turns to a private matchmaker who promises something more deliberate: one match, one meeting, one decision.

    Ilya Rozanov never planned to get married. But when his carefully controlled life starts to unravel, marriage becomes the simplest solution.

    Neither of them is looking for love. What they agree to is a calculated partnership, built on alignment, not emotion.

    It should be straightforward.

    It is not.

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    1
    AO3:
    #82567891
  10. “We could’ve had everything,” Shane admitted softly.

    The confession hurt more than he expected.

    “A real relationship. A family. A future.” His eyes drifted toward the planes outside again before he exhaled slowly. “But dreams eventually end.” A small, tired smile pulled at his mouth. “And this is me waking up.”

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    2 versions
    AO3:
    #85685716
  11. There was something wrong with Shane Hollander.

    He had known it since he was young.

    Most people-most kids, in general-had different hobbies and interests. Their attention drifted from one thing to another. They became fascinated with something for a few weeks, only to abandon it for the next shiny obsession that caught their eye.

    Shane had never been like that.

    When it came to him, there was only ever one thing: hockey.

    Obsessive.

    That was the word most people used when referring to his temperament.

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    2 versions
    AO3:
    #86547416
  12. Ilya's smile widened. He started fumbling with the buttons on his shirt with one hand, squinting down at them. "Please don't strip in front of this bar." "'s too hot," he muttered. "Stupid humid Florida. Was nice in the morning. Now I miss my dreary Canada." "Well, don't worry. It's waiting for you. All 10 degrees of it." "With you there, you make it 10 degrees hotter." He tried for a wink. It didn't fully land. Shane really wanted to kiss him. "Okay, Romeo." Ilya is out of town celebrating Svetlana's birthday, leaving Shane to parent the kids by himself for the weekend. How hard can it be.

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  13. “You scared, Hollander?” Bryant asks, even though Shane can hear the tremor in his voice.

    Shaking his head, Shane just grins, “Surprised they let you up from the kiddie table, Bryant. You've been sitting there for a while, think you're ready to play with the big boys now?”

    Luca snorts back a laugh from Shane's right just as the ref approaches. Shane adjusts the grip on his stick and pulls his mouth guard between his teeth, gritting them against the silicone.

    Shane wins the face off.

    ———

    Or; Shane's first game against the Voyagers where they quickly learn that just because Shane doesn't fight, that doesn't mean that he can't fight.

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  14. "Oh." Hollander has gone a little red, beneath his freckles. "I am from… French Canada? Québec? Do you know? Very… very small town there, no English, only French. I try to learn, but— is a bit hard."

    Ilya feels mildly stupid. He knew, obviously, that they speak French in Canada, but he didn’t know it was, like— some people’s only language. He’d sort of assumed everyone was fluent in both.

    "Huh. Cool."

    "Your English is very good," Hollander offers.

    Ilya laughs.

    "I mean, yeah— I grew up in Minneapolis."

    -

    aka. the one where the language barrier is reversed. it changes everything.

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  15. “You will not be so nice when we beat you,” Ilya told Shane Hollander, holding onto his hand, not letting him pull away. Not yet. But Hollander’s brow furrowed, not in anger but in confusion. “Ah, um, sorry,” Hollander said. “Merci. My English is bad. Worse… than you. Maybe slower?” And he leaned in, like that would help him understand. Ilya’s eyebrows rose, and his smile widened. Or, Ilya Rozanov grew up in Russia. Shane Hollander was raised in France. When they first meet, neither of them can speak English very well. Somehow, it’s easier to understand each other when words aren’t getting in the way. (Stand-alone remix of “I’m Reading Your Lips (You’re Speaking My Language)” but this time neither of them are native English speakers, and learning a new language is sort of like falling in love, if you think about it.)

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    3 versions
    AO3:
    #79323831
  16. Tea, A Drink With Jam by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • T
    • ✓

    2026-02-08

    Ilya plays through a worsening fever, then learns to let Shane take care of him.

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    English
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    2,120
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    1/1
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    1
    AO3:
    #79104256
  17. “Shane, Sasha said to me, on my birthday: ‘‘Who will you go home with tonight, seeing as you’ve slept with half the bar already.’ And now I will tell him he’s a huge slut so he has no room to talk.” And then Sveta said something in Russian that Shane assumed was just that.

    —
    After the Long Game, Shane is determined to make sure Ilya doesn’t feel isolated anymore, which is how he ends up drunk at a Boston club for Svetlana’s birthday dancing with Sasha.

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    1/1
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    1
    AO3:
    #78509596
  18. The Voyageurs woke up on the wrong side of the bed, so Shane decides they need to wake up in a hospital bed for balance. (The Voyageurs chirp, Shane loses his cool.)

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    AO3:
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  19. The new Boston rookie has a real knack for getting underneath Ilya's skin... Shane teaches him a quick lesson in grace and decorum.

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  20. "Let's see who cracks first then." "Is that a fucking challenge, Rozanov?" He asks with a shit eating grin on his face. "You bet it is." "Alright." Shane extends a hand. "Bring it on." And oh, Ilya intends to. Ilya loved days like this. It was sunny, the kind of sunny that made the grumpiest people happy. The Canadian birds were chipping away and Shane was playing some God awful music. The lake was calm, glassy in places, broken only by the soft lap of water against the dock. Shane had taken over the entire cottage with noise and movement- bare feet on wood, the screen door slamming, laughter echoing out across the trees. Ilya loved the way the air smelled like pine and warm water , loved the ache in his shoulders from swimming too long, loved lazy lunches that stretched into the afternoon and conversations that didn’t go anywhere important. He loved how quiet his mind felt here, how the days asked nothing of him except to be present. But most of all Illya loves that all of his days seemed to be like this. His stay at the cottage has been extended so many times both he and Shane know he'll be here as long as possible, likely untill start of the season. "Do you want ice-cream?" Shane asks, sitting down on the swing while purposely letting their legs touch as he types something onto his phone. "Dad says there was a discount at the store, he could drop us off some." "Hollander, do your parents know you're a millionaire?" Illy scoffs, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "So, you don't want the ice-cream?" "Of course I do." He grins, looking out over the lake. "When can David bring it to us?" "Stop calling him David, it's weird." Shane grumbles, furrowing his brows. "What should I call him?" Illya smiles, reaching over and soothing his eyebrows because he can. He can just reach over and do little things without it being questioned, without Shane wondering why he's doing it. Because it's not weird to cuddle your boyfriend, it's not weird to soothe him or even call him nicknames. Ilya wonders if Shane would like that. What would they even call eachother? "He'll bring it over in like 20 minutes." Shane says, breaking him away from his thoughts. "Good." He says, letting his fingers go up into Shane's hair and watching as the other man molds into it, sliding closer and letting Ilya play with his hair. "You're very easy." "Excuse me?" He finally puts down his phone, his gaze, although offended, finally landing on Ilya. "I am not easy." "You are, Hollander. Let's be honest." Ilya grins, God he loves fireing him up. "Fuck off." Shane scoffs, pulling back a bit. "You're easier than me." "I am not." He says, getting offended himself even when he knows they're both purposely firing eachother up. "Even if I was, I am better at resisting than you." "You are not." Shane says, staring him down. "It's not my fault you're the one always staring things. If I even tried you would fold so fast." Ilya stares at him, Shane cannot possibly be serious. They have been doing this for the better part of a decade and it is very obvious Shane has always been easier. It started with him being less experienced and following Ilya's lead but over the years it's just the way they work. Yes, Ilya starts things but that's because Shane always goes for it with enthusiasm. "Is that so?" He raises his eyebrows. "Try then. Let's see who cracks first." "Is that a fucking challenge, Rozanov?" He asks with a shit eating grin on his face. "You bet it is." "Alright, game on." Shane extends a hand. "Bring it on." And oh, Ilya intends to. He, of course, is the first to make a move and it's as soon as just ten minutes later when David brings them ice cream. They're eating it in the kitchen, still mildly bantering about who will last longer, when he starts. He holds Shanes eyes, sucking the vanilla ice-cream off the tip of his spoon. He watches Shane's lips part and does it again, letting some ice cream drip out and off the corner of his lip before slowly licking it. Ilya knows he has a big ego, he has always been told so, but he knows it's not just his ego talking when it comes to giving head. Ilya is amazing at it, he's amazing with his mouth and he knows Shane knows so. He knows Shane is thinking about it as he watches his suck the spoon. "Fuck you." Shane whispers. "That's playing dirty." "Nei." Ilya shakes his head, putting the spoon down. "It's playing exactly as this is to be played." "Whatever." Shane says, looking away. Ilya grins, watching the skin under his freckles darken. That evening, as he's sitting at the couch and scrolling through his phone he can feel Shane come up behind him. His elbows rest on the backrest of the couch right behind Ilya and he leans in, whispering into his ear. For a moment Ilya thinks his brain is messing with him, that he's forgotten English words again but then he catches up, realising Shane is whispering French into his ear. "Fuck off with that croissant shit." He says with a chuckle. He knows what Shane was going for but Ilya prefers his dirty talk in languages he understands.

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    AO3:
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