1 – 20 of 51 Works in Hollanov - Freeform
- Hollanov - Freeform ×
-
Hollanov Shippers Gone Wild! by Anonymous
Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-10-14
Shortly before the playoffs start in what will be Ilya's last season in Boston, he makes a drunk confession to Cliff that he's in love with Jane...who is a man. Unbeknownst to him, it was captured in the background of a video his teammate posted to social media. Chaos ensues.
- Part 1 of Hollanov Shippers
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 40,129
- Chapters:
- 9/13
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #89993911
-
Ilya Rozanov was starting over. His mother was long dead, his father had finally passed, and his brother didn’t want him around anymore. Moscow was nothing but dead bodies and fading memories and scars that just wouldn’t heal.
Enter Shane Hollander.
*Laceration, from Ilya’s POV- Part 2 of Laceration
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 59,715
- Chapters:
- 7/7
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #90234501
-
Fire Pit Sex Confessions by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
2026-07-10
“Wait,” Haas finally chimed in, holding up a hand. “You were so afraid of being caught you bought a building to hook up in?”
“…Yes?” Shane answered.
Haas went a little pale. “You must have been so scared.” The mood had suddenly changed. No one thought it was funny anymore.
Shane sat up a little. “…Yes? It could have ended both of our careers. Almost ended both of our careers. And not to mention, Ilya still had a Russian passport. It was fucking terrifying.”
Luca’s face fell. “That is so sad. I’m so sorry.”
Or:
A humorous game of sharing funny sexual exploits among friends turns into Shane and Ilya’s friends attempting to convince them that the entire secret part of their relationship was at least a little bit traumatic.- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,376
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #88290251
-
A genetic bloom between us by Rikki_SPN4
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
2026-07-07
Lately Shane Hollander had been very sensitive to noise and certain smells. When the final buzzer sounds he mysteriously disappears right after the sixth playoff game.
- Part 1 of Beyond the Ice
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 50,339
- Chapters:
- 24/24
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #83403841
-
Shane makes some changes to protect his privacy. People notice. *5+1 of Shane establishing his boundaries. AU where Shane and Ilya were never caught at the cottage. Hayden Hayden frowned as the door beeped angrily at him and flashed red. 1919, he was sure of it. He’d typed in that code hundreds of times since Shane’s first official year as a Metro when he’d bought the condo and had him over to watch hockey and chirp at the television with him. He knew the code to Shane’ s place like the back of his hand. He must have typed it in too fast, too lazily. It wouldn’t be the first time. Hayden typed it in again, frowning when it beeped and flashed at him again. Hayden knocked on the door instead, waiting for Shane to answer. He relaxed a little when Shane answered, his damp from a recent shower, dressed in baggy sweatpants and black hoodie that looked fleecy and warm. “Hey Hayd,” he greeted, stepping aside to let Hayden pass. Hayden returned the greeting and took off his shoes before he passed the kale chips he brought to Shane. “For you. All dressed for me,” Hayden smiled. “Did you change your code?” Shane led the way into the kitchen, humming. “Yeah, sorry, remind me to text you the new one.” Hayden watched as Shane tipped the bags into two separate bowls, letting him grab the drinks and meet him on the couch. They switched cans and bowls and sat and watched the teams warm up for the Florida vs Toronto game. “Barrett’s a fucking mess,” Hayden said, watching him skate laps. “Tell me about it,” Shane agreed, cracking his can of ginger ale. “Did you see that hit he took from Bennett last week?” “Fuck, yeah,” Hayden remembered. Bennett had cleared across the rink in about three seconds flat to smash Barrett into the boards. Even through the television, Hayden had been able to see the glass shake and Barrett’s head bobble in shock. “I bet it’s his shoulder,” Shane said. Hayden turned to ask him how he knew, but Shane was looking down at his phone and smiling. Hayden knew that smile. “How’s Boston Lily?” he asked. Shane locked his phone and tucked it under his thigh as he reached for his kale chips. “Fine.” “Are you guys..” Hayden trailed off. Shane looked at him with a raised eyebrow, his face blank. “Are we..?” “Like, exclusive? It’s been ages,” Hayden tried. Shane just looked at he television. Hayden could see him twitch, and realised he could hear the repeat buzzing of his phone, sandwiched between his leg and the couch cushion. “Is she sending you like thirty text in a row? Jackie does that,” Hayden laughed. Shane loosened up just a little and nodded. “Yeah. I don’t get why she doesn’t just send one long one.” “I know!” Hayden smiled, thrilled that Shane was sharing something about his mystery girl. “It’s like she has to narrate every thought as she has it.” “Yeah,” Shane agreed. “I’ll still be replying to the first message and ten more come through. And by then, she’s already moved on from the first thing.” “Women,” Hayden lamented. Shane's posture tightened just a little, and Hayden kicked himself. He had been doing so well – Shane had shared something, even if it was the most stereotypical thing about an annoying girlfriend that every man could have said. For Shane, it was huge. Hayden looked at Shane, and for the first time in a while, he was struck by how young he looked. Sure, at twenty six, Hayden already had the twins and one on the way, but Shane had always seem sort of delayed in having a personal life to make room for hockey. It was nice to see him splayed out on his sofa, chips in his hand, talking about a girl as he chewed on the string of his hoodie. “So you guys talk about, like, regular things?” Hayden asked, doing his best to sound nonchalant and like he didn’t care. Shane shifted on the couch a little next to him. “Yeah. I mean, we’re friends, so. We talk.” Hayden nodded to himself. Friends. He could work with that. “That’s cool,” Hayden said, grabbing more chips for himself. “I mean, Jackie’s my best friend, so, I get it.” It might have been too much, but when Hayden snuck a look at Shane out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Shane was doing his best not to smile. Hayden was happy he had Lily, he really was. He wasn’t even a little bit heartbroken that Shane talked to her more than he talked to him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,875
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #86121781
-
Then Ilya reached over and gently tapped Logan’s nose. “You never told us what you wished for.” Logan’s eyes widened immediately. “Oh.” Shane smiled softly. “You know, when you blew out your candles?” For a moment Logan looked suspicious, like perhaps wishes were classified information. Then he leaned closer dramatically. “I wished for Isla.” Silence. Shane blinked. “…Who’s Isla, baby?” Logan looked at him like this should’ve been obvious. “My baby.” Or Shane and Ilya give Logan the sibling he wished for on his third birthday.
- Part 2 of The Guy In Labor…
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 26,534
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #85238996
-
Ilya Hollander (Mila's Dad) [2:18pm]:
Are you free tomorrow? Mila is very excited for Maddie to come overBring your Centaurs fan husband!
The minivan is the first thing Jane notices when they pull up the Hollanders' driveway.
“See?” she says pointedly to her husband. “They drive a normal car.”
“Janie, that’s a ninety-thousand dollar minivan,” Chris says. He puts the car in park; he’s been nervous since they left the house, but he’d never say so.
“You need to relax,” Jane laughs. “They’re just two nice, normal dads, who invited us over so our kids can play hockey.”
“Yeah, just normal, millionaire dads with like, seven Stanley Cups between them–”
Jane cuts him off. “You know how hard it’s been to make friends with some of the hockey parents here. These guys are nice! And the girls get along so well!” She points a finger at her husband’s face and lowers her voice. “Don’t screw this up for her.”
- Part 2 of The Hollander Line
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,522
- Chapters:
- 1/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #84396486
-
Ilya just wanted to show off how many photos he took of the puppies. He didn’t notice the photos in the top left hand corner of his screenshot that were never supposed to see the light of day.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,740
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #82716886
-
Ilya Rozanov’s husband sends him to the grocery store for basil under a time constraint.
Unfortunately, Ilya grabs the first shirt he finds in Shane Hollander’s closet.
Unfortunately, the shirt says HOLLANDER 24 on the back.
Unfortunately, someone on hockey Twitter notices.Or: Ilya Rozanov accidentally outs his secret relationship with Shane Hollander while buying groceries.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 24,922
- Chapters:
- 4/4
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #80852281
-
Yuna has everybody’s security cameras on a family plan. She never really checks them; they’re just there for insurance. Until she sees Ilya Rozanov at Shane’s front door. “Thanks so much, Mrs Hollander .” Yuna smiled at Becky as she grabbed her laptop. “No, it’s fine.” “I’ve never had any issues parking on the street until now ,” Becky said. “Lucky we have the cameras,” Y una smiled, navigating to the website and clicking the login button. "Thanks so much for doing this,” Becky said. “I’m definitely gonna install cameras too after this.” Yuna grimaced as she looked outside, seeing the entirety of Becky’s car scratched up. David had been right to put cameras up a few years ago for insurance purposes, even if they’d never had to use them before. “It’s no trouble. Hopefully they caught something, I’m not sure if you’re out of range.” She clicked the autofill for the password log in and waited as it loaded, frowning when the live footage wasn’ t of her entryway . Shane's condo, Yuna realised. She was staring at his door , the camera pointed down to the staircase to the security door. She moved to the log out button, for getting that she’d set up the cameras for him in the first place and kept the login saved because he would definitely forget about it when someone walked up to Shane’ s front door. Yuna froze, going cold when she recognised the face. Ilya Rozanov. How does he know where Shane lives? Yuna grabbed her phone, ready to call Shane to warn him that Rozanov was at his house, either to break in or prank him, when the door opened. She caught the big smile on Rozanov’ s face as Shane grabbed his arm and pulled him into the condo. Yuna blinked. Are they friends? That didn’ t make any sense. Shane would have told her . “Honey, can you leave your email address and I’ll send over whatever we caught?” Y una said blankly, handing Becky a pen and a notepad from her purse. Becky wrote down her email, thanking Yuna profusely and showing herself out. Rude, Yuna admonished herself. You don’ t make guests show themselves out. She went back through the footage, watching again as Rozanov knocked on the door and smiled brightly when it opened. She'd never seen Rozanov smile like that. Y una had watched all his games and interviews over the years; she’d seen him smirk and smile cockily and flirt. But she’d never seen every single tooth he owned, or seen his eyes light up like that. So Shane and Rozanov were...friends. Secret friends, apparently . Yuna supposed it made sense, in a way. If she really tried to wrap her mind around it. Their rivalry was still the biggest ticket seller in the MLH. If there was no rivalry, people may not be as interested in the games. She wasn’ t proud, but she sat there for hours, waiting for more movement. Y una wasn’ t sure what she was looking for, but she just wanted to see Rozanov leave. She made herself dinner and ate in front of her laptop, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Yuna got her wish nearly seven hours after Rozanov had arrived. It was nearly two in the morning when the door opened again. Yuna startled at the noise, sitting forward and watching intently. Rozanov was laughing as he stepped out onto the landing, holding his shoes. He looked like he'd just run a marathon; he was red and sweaty , his hair was sticking up every which way . They must have used Shane’s home gym. Training together made sense, weirdly enough. Y una was sure there was no one better to push Shane than the only person who was almost on his level. Shane followed as Rozanov leaned against the door jamb and put his shoes on. They looked so...friendly. It was shocking, seeing them smile together. Yuna had never seen Shane so relaxed; there was no tension in his shoulders. He looked loose, like he’d just had a two hour full body massage. She'd certainly never seen the smile Rozanov had now; in interviews, in videos of him at clubs, his smile was much different. Tighter. “Made me miss curfew,” Rozanov was saying. “Sorry,” Shane said, not sounding sorry at all. “No you’re not,” Rozanov scof fed. “Now I'm gonna have to sneak into the fucking hotel.” Yuna watched, fascinated, as they smiled at each other . Her breath caught as Rozanov stepped into Shane’s space, grabbing his hips and walking him back into the wall. Shane made a soft noise as Rozanov pressed himself against Shane, and – They were kissing. It was intense. Yuna knew she shouldn’ t be watching, but she couldn’ t tear her eyes away from the way they grabbed each other, trying to pull each other closer, hands desperately touching each other everywhere. It went on for too long. It was too familiar, too needy, too romantic. They were too familiar . Shane's hands were tucked into Rozanov’s pants, and Rozanov’s hands were rucking up Shane’s shirt, caressing his stomach, his hips, reaching up to grope his chest.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,484
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #82224851
-
Shane and Ilya are different behind closed doors.
A multi POV fic that allows other characters to get a glimpse behind the wall.- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 22,470
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #82053071
-
Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov are solid.
Married. Stable. Established. The NHL’s favorite “we didn’t see that coming” love story turned domestic success.
They have a house. A dog that likes Ilya better. A shared calendar that Shane actually uses.
They’ve learned how to grocery shop without arguing about brands of pasta.
They are, objectively, fine.
Which is precisely the problem.
Somewhere between sponsorship shoots, playoff runs, and arguing over whose turn it is to unload the dishwasher, the fire that once burned hot enough to survive secrecy and rivalry has… softened. Not gone. Not broken. Just familiar.
Comfortable. Predictable.When a league marketing campaign crowns them “Hockey’s Ultimate Love Story” and assigns a documentary crew to follow them around for the season, Shane jokingly tells Ilya:
“Guess you’re going to have to fall in love with me again on camera.”Ilya smirks. “Please. I could make you fall in love with me again in one week.”
It’s a joke.
Until it becomes a challenge.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 68,626
- Chapters:
- 8/8
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #80945186
-
Hayden just wanted to surprise Shane with a guy’s night in. Shane had been flat lately, and he and JJ thought it would be nice to distract him with friendship.
How they ended up stuck in a fucking closet watching Shane get dicked down harder than anyone in the history of the world has ever been dicked down, Hayden would never quite understand.- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 13,250
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #81188126
-
Shane Hollander was perfect; the perfect son, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect friend. He had spent years refining perfection, making sure he was the picture of it. It was second nature after all these years; a suit that didn’t quite fit, but that he’d gotten used to.
Enter Ilya Rozanov.- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 56,485
- Chapters:
- 7/7
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #81052751
-
Hoodies and Fire Alarms by Anonymous
Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types, Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-09
The realization hit Ilya like a body check. They weren’t just evacuating for a fire, they were in the middle of a hotel, full of Ottawa players and hockey fans. Shane let go of Ilya’s hand. He turned to look at his boyfriend and that’s when he noticed what Shane was wearing. A black Centaurs hoodie with the bright red letters and numbers printed on the back: Rozanov 81. Ilya was sure Shane hadn't noticed what he was wearing, but he had pulled the drawstrings of the hoodie tight, leaving a small a hole at the center of his flushed face.
The rookie, clearly starstruck, stared. “Are you Shane Hollander? Like, the Shane Hollander?” Ilya wasn’t sure who was going to faint first, Shane or Luca.
The others stood there staring at the two men, mouths slightly agape. Bood broke into a slow smile. “Nice hoodie, Hollander. Supporting the enemy now?"
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,901
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79173336
-
The Consort of Crown and Blood by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-07
When a human head of state publicly insults the ancient Vampire King, the price of peace is a political union. Shane Hollander, high school teacher and assistant hockey coach, is one of the only humans in the world with a rare bloodline. He’s given an impossible choice: become a Tribute Consort to vampire Crown Prince Ilya, or watch the human race burn.
Their union is meant to be a symbolic gesture to prevent war. Shane tells himself he can survive the vampire court's deadly politics, the centuries-old intrigue, and the weight of being a living apology for his species' mistakes.
What he doesn't expect is the way Ilya looks at him when no one else is watching.
When a secret society abducts Shane to drain and auction his rare blood to the highest bidder, the carefully constructed facade shatters. The vampire Crown Prince the world fears isn't cold at all, he's been holding something far more dangerous in check. And what Ilya is willing to destroy to reclaim his Consort will reshape the balance of power between their worlds.
- Part 1 of Stories from the Kingdom of Rozanov
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 163,090
- Chapters:
- 15/15
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77160316
-
Neutral Zone by Anonymous
Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types, Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-07
When more than half of the MLH gets stranded during a snow storm, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov find themselves not only roommates, but they get stuck with the one room that has only one bed. Who knows how long they'll have to deal with being stuck with one another, but at least their friends Hayden Pike and Cliff Marlow are also there, right? What could go wrong...?
Or Shane is forced to share a room with Ilya while Hayden is forced to share a room with Cliff for a few days and HayLow tries to play detective.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 26,059
- Chapters:
- 8/8
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78619396
-
Ottawa, 2010. Canada wins the championship, and Shane slips away from the overwhelming celebration for some peace and quiet. Russia loses, and Ilya runs from his father’s furious disappointment to have a panic attack in the stairwell. Neither boy is really looking for company, but for a tentative few hours in the middle of the night, they find solace, acceptance and a first kiss, first time prelude to something heated and risky in each other’s arms. **** Ilya leaned in with lips pursed and Shane jerked away, “Whoa! What the hell are you doing?” “You do not want kiss?” Ilya frowned. “You stare at my mouth all night, same as after draft. I thought you wanted kiss.” “No.” Shane’s eyes were wide. “That’s insane.” “Okay.” Ilya stood up, hiding how bad the rejection hurt. “I misunderstand. Sorry. Do not worry, I will not say anything about–” “Wait.” Shane’s grabbed Rozanov’s arm at the last second, gathering all his courage, “Y- yes.” “Yes.” Ilya repeated. “What is yes?” “I mean yes.” Shane pulled him back in slowly, carefully, his heart racing. “Kiss me?” January 2010 Ottawa, Canada The party was loud. The championship had been hard won and well earned and the celebration was out of control. The players were cheering, jumping, hugging one another high off the win, the boys were spinning, laughing, shoving one another drunk on the adrenaline, some actually were high off smuggled in weed and others actually were drunk off punch spiked from not very secret flasks, and the coaches and chaperones were all too busy congratulating each other and themselves to pretend to care. Champions. Trophy winners. They were at the top of their game and feeling on top of the world, and the fever pitch excitement combined with the delirious exhaustion of a too long, too intense, too physically mentally emotionally grueling few weeks of tournament shook the walls of the multipurpose conference room on the basement floor of hotel. The noise was deafening, the chaos of it all dizzying, the crush of people and body heat and clamor of conversation suffocating and in the very middle of the room– –in the very middle of the room, team Captain and tournament MVP and all around Canadian Wunderkind Shane Hollander stared down at his glass of electric red punch and tried his fucking hardest not to throw up. “Hollander! We did it! We fucking did it!” Someone pushed into him, fell into him, grabbed him into a messy, sloppy hug and planted a messy, sloppy kiss on his cheek. Teammate. A buddy. Shane had played with him for years. “Shane Hollander! Second in the draft son, good for you! You make us all so proud!” Someone shook his hand, squeezed his palm, pounded at his shoulder. A parent. A chaperone. They’d known Shane since he was sixteen. “Wouldn’t be the player he is without a great coach!” Right in his ear, bellowing over the noise. Shane knew he was supposed to smile, supposed to agree, supposed to pound the no doubt spiked punch and whoop at the top of his lungs and let go – let loose– now that the work was over and the tournament was finished and he had another trophy and medal to put in his room. Instead, “I gotta find the bathroom!” he announced to no one in particular, cos no one fucking cared. They were lost in the party, reveling in the victory, but it was too much hammering against Shane’s head, too much crushing around his body and his stomach was twisting, head pounding, chest too tight, holy shit he had to get out somewhere and get some air. Out of the multipurpose room and into the hall. Down the hall and right past the bathroom. He ditched the cup of punch in the nearest water fountain and broke into a jog down the generically ugly carpeted corridor and by the time he crashed through the door leading to the stairwell, Shane was running. Gasping. He yanked at his tie and scrubbed at his face, rolled his shoulders and popped his neck and told himself to breathe. Started up the stairs to get to his fourteenth floor room and told himself to breathe. Huffed a self deprecating sort of laugh because Shane Hollander jogging up fourteen floors worth of stairs instead of partying with his teammates was exactly the sort of over dedicated, wet blanket, fitness and work ethic obsessed bullshit everyone expected from him so– so whatever. When his parents asked sort of sad and sort of resigned about why he hadn’t stayed to celebrate with his teammates and revel in the end of his juniors era, when they told him he probably should really definitely enjoy these moments of silliness and fun while he still could cos come fall he’d be playing professional and have to lock in, when his parents couldn’t hide how they worried about him isolating and clicked their tongues about him avoiding his long time teammates in favor of running stairs alone, Shane would call it a work out. He’d call it dedication. He’d brush it off and wave them away and tell them he might have gotten second at the draft but he was gonna be first in the league, rookie of the year, and to make that happen, he couldn’t party, he had to train. He certainly wouldn’t tell them how the noisy crowd and pushing unhinged behavior made his skin crawl and lungs seize up and head hurt, no way. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was just dedicated. Just focused. It was fine. He was fine. Nine, ten, eleven, floors up and Shane actually started to feel fine. The stairwell was soothingly monochromatic and cold enough to be clarifying, easing the clamor in Shane’s head until he felt like he could think again. His shoes didn’t make any noise on the concrete steps and landing after corner after landing after corner was empty, the doors to the adjoining halls all closed, it was a half hour till midnight so anyone who wasn’t partying in celebration was sequestered in their rooms mulling over their loss and packing for the trip home. It was nice. Peaceful. Space to move and space to breathe and twelve floors up Shane was starting to feel like maybe he wouldn’t just collapse face first onto his bed and scream, maybe he’d have the mental energy to watch a movie or read a little bit in his book, or– Noise in the stairwell up ahead, and Shane slowed at the door for the thirteenth floor landing, paused waiting to see if he heard the noise again, then peeked around the corner bracing himself so he could try and be passably polite to whoever had inadvertently interrupted his single minded dash up the stairs. Ilya Rozanov. It was Ilya fucking Rozanov sitting just below the next landing blocking the stairwell with his body turned sideways taking up a whole step, an unlit cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other… and tears on his face, reflecting the light from his phone, tracking down his cheek and dripping off his chin, landing wet on the cold concrete below. Shit. Shane came around the corner cautiously, curiously, fidgeting with the string on his hoodie as he asked, “Rozanov?” Ilya jumped when someone spoke at him from just a few feet away. He hadn’t heard any door open, he hadn’t heard any footsteps coming up the stairs and he jumped cursing when the empty echoing cold of the stairwell was shattered by the unexpected intruder.
- Part 5 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,284
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78900926
-
“Fuck.” Shane melted into the strong hand at his neck, the pressure over his throat and the heat of the Alpha’s palm. “Fuck, that’s–” his eyes started to flutter closed, his knees going weak, but he heard the Alpha huff a laugh and immediately stiffened again. “Don’t do that.” he warned. “Don’t laugh like me letting you put your hand on my throat is predictable submissive Omega behavior and you're making fun of me." “That is not why i was laughing.” Ilya squeezed Shane’s throat lightly, his thumb pressing over the suppressant patch covering the Omega's bonding spot and blocking his sweet scent. “I thought you would fight it, fight submitting. But you didn’t.” “No I–” Shane swallowed hard. “I like it.” “Good.” Ilya smiled slow and a little dangerous, running his tongue over his bottom lip and then over the sharp ends of his fangs before he leaned in and growled into the Omega’s ear. “Now get on your knees.”
- Part 4 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 146,649
- Chapters:
- 10/10
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76264181
-
Shane Hollander and his Human Weighted Blanket by CoorsOnTap
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-24
This task of ‘shutting Shane’s brain off,’ aka stopping panic attacks, had become a sort of game to Ilya. His current list of approved methods were sex (obviously), hot/cold showers and sour candy. Reserved for particularly bad attacks was dunking Shane’s face in an ice bath, though this method was not preferred by either of them. The most efficient way (besides sex) is the “weighted blanket” method. OR: Shane spirals in a way-too-hot shower and Ilya pulls him out.
- Part 1 of Hollonov One Shots
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,506
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78215646