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Once More to See You by fuckboy_genius
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-30
Ilya has a nightmare.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,280
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76735281
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5 times Ilya has a nightmare, and 1 time he wakes up Shane (on purpose)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,574
- Chapters:
- 6/6
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76591201
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Ilya had realized it the moment he’d opened his eyes a few days prior, too warm under the covers to be comfortable. Nothing had even happened yet, but he'd felt immediately distant from himself. Like somewhere between sleeping and waking, he’d stepped out of his body and into another.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,472
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76496446
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Shane has had a long week and decides to relax by taking a bath and using a bath bomb to relax his muscles. He's so relaxed he takes a nap, not even registering the colour of the bath bomb he used... Inspired by someone, I dont remember who it was so if someone remembers the fic, please tell me. It basically had Shane taking some panadol or something cos he had a headache but he fainted and Ilya found him and thought he tried to overdose The rivalry between Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander was the kind of legend that fueled sports talk radio for decades. It was the stoic, iron-willed Russian Captain against the golden boy of Canadian hockey. On the ice, they were a collision of tectonic plates—heavy hits, sharp words exchanged through mouthguards, and a mutual disdain that seemed etched into their very bones. In reality, the disdain was the most expensive mask in professional sports. For over eight years, they had been a ghost story told in darkened hotel rooms and anonymous apartments. For two years, they had been "forever." They were boyfriends in the shadows, navigating a world of secret back entrances, and the constant, crushing weight of a double life. But tonight, the ice was far away. Ilya had just finished a late flight back to their shared sanctuary in Shane's quiet cottage outside of Ottawa, a home no one else knew Ilya was embraced in. The cottage was hushed, the only sound the hum of the refrigerator and the distant whistle of the wind against the glass. Ilya dropped his gear bag by the door, his shoulders aching from a grueling game against Toronto. He wanted nothing more than to find Shane, bury his face in the crook of his neck, and let the persona of "The Iron Rozanov" melt away. "Shane?" he called out, his voice raspy. No answer. A sliver of light spilled from beneath the master bathroom door. Ilya smiled faintly, rubbing the back of his neck. Shane must have beaten him home and opted for a soak to soothe his own battered ribs. Shane was a fan of rituals—expensive salts, high-end candles, anything to drown out the noise of being Shane Hollander. Ilya kicked off his shoes and padded toward the bathroom. "I’m home, malysh," he murmured, pushing the door open. "I hope you saved some hot water for-" The sentence died in his throat. The smile didn't just fade; it vanished as if it had never existed. The bathroom was thick with steam, smelling of hibiscus and cedarwood. But Ilya’s brain didn't process the scent. It processed the sight. Shane was submerged in the tub, his head tilted back against the porcelain, his eyes closed, his body unnervingly still. And the water-the water was a deep, visceral, terrifying crimson. It looked like a massacre. It looked like a life drained out into a ceramic basin. In an instant, the year was no longer the present. The luxury apartment dissolved. Ilya was twelve years old again, standing in a cramped kitchen in Russia. He was seeing his mother’s pale, limp hand draped across the ground, pills scattered everywhere. He remembered the silence of that day, a silence that felt like a scream you couldn't hear. The trauma, suppressed under layers of muscle, fame, and hockey padding, erupted like a geyser. "Shane!" The sound that ripped from Ilya’s chest wasn't a name; it was a sob, a fractured howl of pure, unadulterated agony. He didn't walk; he lunged. He hit the tiled floor on his knees with a bone-jarring thud, his hands shaking so violently he could barely grip the edge of the tub. "Shane! No, no, no-. Shane, wake up! Look at me!" Ilya’s large, calloused hands plunged into the dark red water, frantic and clumsy. He grabbed Shane’s shoulders, hauling him upward. His mind was a strobe light of horrors. Did he have a knife? Did he take something? Was the pressure of the secret too much? Did I miss the signs? "Please, pozhaluysta, Shane, don't leave me!" Ilya was hyperventilating now, the air coming in jagged, useless gulps. He dragged Shane’s limp upper body out of the water, pinning him against his chest, heedless of his own expensive sweater getting soaked in the red liquid. He was checking for wounds, his fingers searching Shane’s wrists, his neck, his chest, his eyes blurred by a thick veil of tears. "Stay with me, stay with me, I’ve got you-" "Ilya? Wh-what?" Shane’s eyes flew open, wide and disoriented. He sputtered, coughing as water splashed into his face. He felt Ilya’s heart hammering like a trapped bird against his back, felt the crushing, desperate grip of the man’s arms. "Ilya? What’s happening? Are we-is there a fire?" Shane scrambled for purchase, his hands splashing in the red water. Ilya didn't let go. He couldn't. He was rocking back and forth on the floor, holding Shane to his chest with a strength that was bordering on painful. His face was buried in Shane’s wet hair, and he was making a sound Shane had never heard bbefore, a low, broken whimpering. "You’re alive," Ilya choked out, the words barely intelligible. "You’re alive, you’re alive..." Shane finally managed to twist around in Ilya’s arms, his own heart racing from the sudden, violent wake-up. He looked at Ilya and his stomach dropped. The giant, stoic Boston Captain looked like a ghost. His skin was ash-gray, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused, and he was trembling so hard his teeth were literally chattering. "Ilya, look at me. Hey, look at me," Shane said, his voice dropping into a soft, urgent tone. He reached up, cupping Ilya’s face. "I’m okay. I’m right here. I just fell asleep. I was so tired, I-" Shane’s gaze flicked down to the tub, then to the red stains on Ilya’s clothes, then back to the tub. The realization hit him like a cross-check to the throat. The bath bomb. He had bought a new one at the boutique near the arena. "Midnight Rose," the label had said. It was supposed to be luxurious. He hadn't realized it would turn the water the color of an arterial spray. And he knew, God, he knew, about Ilya’s mother. Ilya had only told him once,
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,703
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76473816
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they say it's my fault but I want (him) so much by blankjournals
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-25
He needs to move, maybe get Rozanov’s attention before he loses his nerves. And then the room tilts. His vision narrows, red light smearing into pink and white streaks. Shane staggers. The beer slips from his fingers. It shatters, foam splashing his shoes, glass skittering away. His knees give out like someone kicked him, and his hands shoot forward to hold himself upright. His left palm lands in broken glass, though he doesn't feel it. What he notices is the certainty that everyone sees, that they can smell him—something sour and wrong. His scent, despite patches and care, has turned exposed. OR: What if we took the club scene from episode 4 and had Shane collapse from experiencing Omega Rejection Syndrome after seeing Ilya dancing with someone else?
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,374
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #76368301
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you know this moment, don’t you? (time is strangely calm now) by barnes_romzanov
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-25
It’s dark, and Ilya’s not quite sure where he is. His entire body is numb. His shoes are soaking wet from trudging lazily through the snow. His nose is running, and his lips are chapped. Selfishly, he wishes Shane would fuss over him now. Pull him close, whisper “I forgive you” even though he shouldn’t, because Ilya would never change, because something inside him- in his family line, in his soul- was broken. Ilya wondered how long ago it had clicked- when Shane had realized that Ilya wormed his way into this country and tricked the Hollanders into caring for him, then returned the favor by botching their language and leaving a trail of mess in his wake. He still can't help but wonder if that will be part of his punishment- being doomed to miss him in death, too. or: Ilya’s mostly been able to cope with the fact that he’ll never be able to articulate himself fully in this country- but he’s also never been good at talking about feelings in the first place. "I'm tired" is the best he's got. It definitely doesn't capture what's going on in his head, and Shane can't read minds.
- Part 1 of Merry Christmas, Please Don't Call
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 15,440
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #76389551
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can you hear me screaming? please don't leave me by sunsetcherry
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-12-24
Shane sucked in a deep breath as his head started to throb. His hand flew to the back of the head, heart racing wondering if he had an injury he didn't know about. Shane's hand glided over his hair and he felt for any bumps or dried blood but he felt nothing. The head pain was not due to any injury, so that was a relief. But it was still impeding his concentration on him trying to read his boring hockey book as his husband would say, but with it being the end of the season, Shane wanted to relax. He wanted to read his boring hockey book without a pesky headache. Or Shane tried to get rid of his headache and gives Ilya a heart attack instead.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,169
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76311181
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I don’t know why. by TheQueenoftheAbyss
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-21
When Ilya’s depression rears its ugly head in a new way Shane is there to catch him as he falls. Because everyone deserves a Shane to catch them. !Ep 6/ The Long game spoilers! (Sort of)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,579
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76165306
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The resemblance hit Yuna like a punch to the gut. The same honey-colored curls, though hers were styled in a gorgeous twist at the back of her head. If Yuna could see past all of the times Ilya’s nose had been broken and re-healed, she imagined it would look something like the woman’s in front of her. And those eyes - a mix of hazel and gold with tiny flecks of green if you looked close enough. Ilya must have gotten his strong jaw from his father, because this woman’s features were narrow and sharp. Stunning.
When she smiled, it looked so like Ilya’s that Yuna could have cried.
“Irina,” she said.
“Yuna,” Irina said, bowing her head politely.
OR
Ilya wishes on a star. The universe helps it come true.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,240
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75058806
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Plentiful, but Ultimately Finite (rewrite available in notes) by broccolicheddarchicken
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-02-08
Canada had given him his life as he knew it, but it had never felt one hundred percent comfortable, either. He missed Russia sometimes, but it didn’t have the thing that mattered most. Ilya had exactly one home, and it was this: his face pressed into a smooth chest, his head tucked under a strong jaw, with freckled arms wrapped around him and delicate fingers combing through his hair. Anywhere else was a temporary excursion. A treatise on second (and third) languages, homesickness, acceptance, Shane's struggle learning Russian, and the things people do when they care.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,175
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #62871364
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