241 – 260 of 304 Works in Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander
- Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander ×
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the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-14
No one wanted the night to end, so the celebration party had moved from the locker room (where Shane had a few sips of warm beer out of the Cup and three-fourths of a bottle of champagne) to Monk's (where Shane had cold beer and too many jello shots that were in syringes of all things — that was 100 percent Dykstra's fault) to Bood's house (where he ate a few slices of pizza to sober up a little and washed it down with a Ginger Ale that Ilya had somehow acquired from seemingly out of thin air before Ilya and Troy challenged him and Luca to a game of beer pong, which Shane and Luca had lost spectacularly because Luca had no idea how beer bong worked). After the game, Ilya had brushed his fingers along Shane's spine as he ribbed Luca on his poor skills, and Shane's skin burned.
Suddenly, he was done with the parties.
—
Or, the story of how Shane and Ilya broke a dresser (and a front door) after they won the Cup.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,219
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79532076
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Shane was looking down. His eyes were squeezed shut, his brow furrowed in intense, painful concentration. His lips were moving, silently shaping the words. Good. Night. Forming them slowly, carefully, in the secret space of his own mouth.
Ilya’s breath hitched. He’d never seen this. Why would he have? Shane had never been sad around him. Never hurt. Never in this kind of quiet, defeated pain. Around Ilya, Shane had been pleasured and angry and frustrated and gloriously competitive. But never this. Never shattered.
(or, everything is same but Shane has a slight stutter that gets bad when he's sad. Ilya has never heard it because Shane has never been sad around him. Until their night in Vegas.)
- Part 6 of Crashing out over Hollanov
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,183
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #79447261
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my love is mine, all mine by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-13
“I want to eat you,” Ilya tells him.
Shane laughs, loud and bright and carefree, and Ilya feels it blooming inside of his chest like a sunflower. It only makes the desire to consume him grow even stronger. Not in a crazy way (probably), but because he feels like he can never get enough of this man. His Shane. His husband. No amount of time, no amount of closeness, ever feels like it could be enough.
He wants them both to be eternal, wants to live with their ribcages locked together and their hearts thumping against each other.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,050
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79448741
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no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to (him) by snoopyilya
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-12
“Alpha.” He let his omega take charge of his tone of voice, his logical thoughts taking the backseat at the moment, and he sounded wrecked. “Please be mine.” He felt more than heard Ilya’s chuckle, making him shiver, “I’ve always been yours, Shane.” “Bite me, Ilya.” the mating of two lovedrunk fools.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 21,217
- Chapters:
- 5/5
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78183226
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“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.)
- Part 3 of Competition is Better With a Friend
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,862
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #79323831
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You, I Always Need You by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
2026-02-10
Shane really isn't looking for a relationship, which is why having Ilya around is nice. No strings attached, only great sex. It's a win all around.
The only problem is that Ilya is way, way too nice to Shane's stupid cat.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 16,013
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78990241
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Shane decides to play Ilya’s game of being flirtatious, and it’s a failure… unless
- Part 2 of Inspired By... Hollanov
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,820
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79212816
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Stuck in this, so let's do it together by Anonymous
Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
2026-02-08
Here lies Ilya Rozanov. Cause of death: Shane Hollander speaking Russian and not kissing him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,320
- Chapters:
- 4/4
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78921496
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“But…” Ilya stalls out. He conjures his sun’s face: the soft curve of skin where the corner of his eye becomes the sweep of his cheekbone, the stubble that clings to the soft end of his chin, the strong and even line of his eyebrows. “Solnyshko,” Ilya says. “It means sun, yes, but… it’s like a pet name. Sunshine. Honey. I’m calling you my sun.”
This is mortifying in English. Christ, he should never have started this conversation. He should have shaken Shane off when he had the chance. Even as Ilya thinks this, he knows he could not have done it. He cannot deny Shanyshko anything. That has always been the problem between them. What a terrifying, awesome, horrible problem to have. Ilya would like to have this problem for the rest of his life.
-x-
or, Ilya and Shane talk about their love, their lives.- Part 2 of sailing, sailing
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,364
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79146026
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Some days, Ilya feels carved open.
Not all coping mechanisms are healthy. But sometimes, they just have to get you through.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,342
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79020866
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Two-Four-Eight-One-Oh-Eight (Ilya Hollander. Shane Rozanov.) by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-02-06
“Maybe—maybe Lily is sleeping,” she says. Bargaining, she realizes numbly. She’s bargaining for more time. And for whatever is unfolding here to stop unfolding and in fact fold itself back up. Her thumb shifts away from the call button. “And you should be sleeping too, mister.”
“He’s not sleeping.” Shane flares his nostrils—another gesture Yuna hasn’t seen in so many years. “He’s waiting for me to call a third time. Mom. Please. He’s—he’ll be so worried.”
Yuna shifts her thumb and lets it drop. Is Yuna a bad mother if she hopes "Lily" doesn’t pick up?
-x-
or: Shane needs to call someone the night he's laid out by Marlow, and Yuna reflects on her quietly, obsessively devoted son.
- Part 1 of sailing, sailing
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,864
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79013581
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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
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The Centaurs are on a Roadie and have to pull over at a shitty motel to wait out a crazy storm. Shane hates storms with a passion because they are essentially a sensory clusterfuck for him. On top of that, they aren't the only ones who needed to get off the road leaving Wyatt and Bood sharing a room with the couple. Or Shane and Ilya being cute, Wyatt and Bood watching. Shane also has really bad anxiety so if you like that you will like this.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,483
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78687336
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I'll corrupt every branch of this family tree by Odinsmom12
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-01
Shane Hollander took a job at the Rozanov estate because he needed the money, not because he wanted to spend his days polishing marble floors in a house that felt more like a museum than a home. He definitely didn’t expect to keep running into Ilya Rozanov—the heir. Ilya was used to control. Shane was just trying to survive. Somewhere between stolen glances and quiet hallways, they started wanting things they weren’t supposed to want. And in a house built on rules, that turned out to be the most dangerous thing of all.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 30,377
- Chapters:
- 8/8
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77620111
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Shane Hollander seems to get a new tattoo of a flower or leaf every time something significant happens to him. Ilya's curiosity threatens to drive him mad.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,983
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78687486
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boys only want love if it's torture by galactictsukki
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-31
“What’s wrong with the table runner we have now? We like that one. We picked it out together at Pottery Barn.” Ilya stops his fussing to smile at Shane. They’ve been living together for two months now, but he still melts every time Shane says words like ‘together’ and ‘we’ and ‘us.’ It makes Shane want to throw him down on the table and eat him alive. “Nothing is wrong with it. I love it, because we picked it out together.” “Okay… so what’s the deal with finding the table runner my mom got us?” “That one matches the flowers I bought, and the new blankets on the couch. We cannot have these people thinking we live like divorced fathers.” “Ilya, no one would ever think that. We’re one of the only couples without a toy pile stashed in the corner of the living room. And we keep this house in top shape, because you know I’ll lose my shit if we don’t.” “I know that, but they don’t know that! What other conclusion will they come to if our dining room does not match the flow of the rest of the downstairs?” Or, Ilya's dream of being Shane Hollander's proud WAG comes to fruition
- Part 2 of i love the players, you love the game
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 23,647
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #78620946
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Ilya laughed.
“That bothered you?”
”You have no idea. Half the time I use the tiny scraps of information you give me to look them up anyway. But you’re so cryptic. You’re like,” Shane put on a little voice, “‘Ah, we might have a layover in Charlotte, but am not sure, could be Atlanta.’ Infurating.”
”Ok, Hollander, I will send you a calendar invite. This is seductive to you, yes?”
—
It’s been months since the cottage, and Shane is finally coming to visit Ilya. He hasn’t been back in Boston since the day he ran out the door saying he couldn’t do this. Ilya is spiraling, just a little, not knowing where they stand in this new and fragile thing. Boyfriends, probably. He’s never been someone’s boyfriend before.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,038
- Chapters:
- 5/5
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78323251
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call it what you want by Anonymous
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-01-28
When Canadian transfer student Shane Hollander joins Boston University’s Division 1 hockey team, he expects intense practices, elite competition, and the pressure to be drafted. What he doesn't expect is to be roped up into tutoring the infuriatingly talented, infamous frat boy Ilya Rozanov. Between late-night study sessions, high-stakes games, and reckless frat parties—how will either of them survive the season?
or
Frat Boy Ilya Rozanov x Nerdy Shane Hollander
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 64,738
- Chapters:
- 12/?
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76634936
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Irina Rozanova is alive. She's beautiful, funny and so sad.
or
The events of Heated Rivalry if Irina was alive.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,778
- Chapters:
- 2/?
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78435731
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5 times Ilya was honest about his feelings for Shane.
- Part 1 of Sincere Communication
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,095
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78341696