3901 – 3920 of 4,146 Works in Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

  • Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid ×
  1. Shane and Ilya juggle an unexpected pregnancy while making a Stanley Cup run.

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    AO3:
    #73037981
  2. “Have I ever told you how sexy you are in those glasses?” Shane’s nose wrinkles again, creasing his constellations of freckles, and his fingers reach up to touch the black frames. “You have. A few times,” Shane mumbles. His cheeks are flushed brilliantly pink, as soft and vibrant as fresh spring roses, and he moves to take the glasses off, but Ilya stills his hand and shakes his head. “I think you should leave them on,” Ilya purrs as he leans in and presses a kiss to Shane’s lips, which are parted out of mild confusion. When Ilya pulls back, Shane’s head tilts slightly. “But I don’t need them unless I’m reading,” Shane says, his confusion evident in the soft v of his brow and the downturning of his lips. “Shane,” he laughs, with Shane, never at him, and understanding dawns across Shane’s face. “Oh. You’re… into this.” -- OR, Ilya FINALLY fucks Shane with his glasses on.

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    AO3:
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  3. “I see,” Rozanov says finally, straightening just a little. “You came to give me ethics lesson.” Shane scoffs, “ I came here to, uh—“ he falters, hands gesturing uselessly. “To set things straight.” Yeah, that works. “To set things straight,” Rozanov repeats, slow and measured. His mouth curves into a wicked grin. “Yes I can help” Shane loses count of how many times he’s frowned that day. “What do you mean ‘you can help’?” or Shane confronts the guy his girlfriend cheated on him with. It takes an unexpected turn.

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    AO3:
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  4. "Yeah, um. Thanks, I guess." Hollander's reply was vacant, and Ilya moved to gather his clothes and pull his boxers on, taking care to keep his movements smooth and casual. He had to get away. Now. Before he did or said something unfortunate. One word from Hollander, naked on the edge of the bed, derailed his plans. "Wait," Hollander pleaded, and there was something undeniably vulnerable in his voice. Ilya hesitated immediately, turned back to the bed. "Hollander?" --- Hotel room 1822 in Montreal, February 2011. What if Ilya did stay a little longer?

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  5. With shaking hands, Shane unlocked his phone and dared to click on the article SportsCenter already posted. There wasn't more information than what Shane had just seen, but the article already featured a photo. Ilya lying motionless on a stretcher, some of his teammates trying to cover him while being taken away. But what was really getting to him, was the blood on the ice. He hastily locked his phone again, not being able to stare at this picture any longer. Fuck. He really needed to see Ilya. or: Shane has to watch Ilya get injured during a game and faces the difficutlies of a secret relationship in the meantime

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    AO3:
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  6. Shane knows it’s silly to be annoyed by Ilya sleeping with “model-handsome men.” For god’s sake, Ilya has been in a committed relationship with Shane now for 5 and a half years and they’ve been married for 18 months. It’s stupid. (Or: Shane and Ilya attend their first All-Star Game together as a married couple and Shane learns some things from Cliff Marlow. Shane doesn’t expect to get so possessive.)

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  7. “You’re misbehaving,” Ilya remarked idly. Not discouraging, just curious. He set his hands on Shane’s hips and waited to see how far this would go. “We’re married,” Shane breathed, as if marriage was somehow an excuse for public indecency.

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  8. Shane answers him with a question, voice rough and thoroughly fucked out. “How many fingers do you have inside of me?” Smirking, Ilya offers Shane just one brush over his prostate. “Four.” “Jesus,” Shane groans, eyes rolling to the back of his skull. “Do you think you could take more?” Surprise dances behind dark pupils, Ilya can see a fire ignite within Shane’s irises. His freckled face, which is red and splotchy and ruined with pleasure, twists with uncertainty. The intrigue behind them is too captivating to ignore. Finally, after getting a chance to breathe, Shane asks, “What, like your fist?”

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  9. The boys spend a few hours together the night before a game, and Ilya is caught off guard by how good Shane's Russian has gotten Ilya roughly dried his hair and got back into the hotel bed. Shane lay there eyes closed and relaxed, but far from asleep. Ilya shifted close to him and pushed Shane’s shoulder so he could curl up behind him, not quite spoon him, just hold him and bury his face in his lover’s back. He would have to leave soon. All the thoughts that had left his head when he’d entered this room, consumed by finally being back in Shane’s presence, were starting to creep back in. Shane, relaxed from sex and skin soft from his own shower, laughed and let himself be moved however Ilya wanted. They used to part ways right after a shower, but taking a few more minutes to reconnect after, hold each other, was time they both treasured. Ending with cuddles and a few soft kisses felt better and usually left Ilya feeling more settled and satisfied. Erickson, a left winger he was often paired with, had announced his engagement at the end of practice and his team had gone out to celebrate. Ilya had slipped away from the party to get his precious few hours with Shane. The lives of his teammates were moving forward: engagements, weddings, announcing that their wives were expecting, handing out invites to birthday parties or first communions. Ilya didn’t have a single regret, Shane was his world, but watching the lives of his friends spin forward while they were in stasis, trying to hold on, made him ache. Even if the situation was a thousand times harder, he’d still choose Shane. Shane was worth everything, but he wished things could be easier for them. He wanted it to be them to be glowing with happiness at engagement parties or hugging their kids after games. He took a deep breath, taking in the clean scent of Shane’s skin. “I love you so much it scares me,” he murmured in Russian. Putting his feelings into words helped even if they couldn’t be understood. He needed to open up, even if only to himself. “I wouldn’t change it, if I could. This feeling, I’d never give it up. You are everything to me.” Shane twisted in his arms and Ilya gladly resettled against his chest. Ilya was taller than him, but he liked this sometimes, curling up so he felt smaller and letting himself be held by powerfully muscular arms. Ilya pressed a kiss to the center of Shane’s chest, right over his heart, and snuggled in shamelessly. “Do not be scared. I feel the same, love. Mine. Always.” Ilya melted completely into Shane’s arms at hearing those words. For a moment, everything seemed perfect. It was like a barrier between them had given way and they were somehow closer, more in tune with each other. A sense of peace washed over him. His mind went quiet. Some tension deep inside him, so constant he’d grown almost numb to it, had just resolved and faded away. He didn’t realize how much it ate at him, until it was gone. He let a few deep breaths come and go before his mind turned to figuring out why he was suddenly so relaxed. Fucking English, that was it, he was always worried that he’d completely misunderstood what he was being told. Shane speaking to him in Russian made his words so much more comforting. That friction of trying to make sure he’d decoded things right, was gone for once and that felt amazing. His body jerked as the realization sunk in: he’d spoken Russian and Shane had replied. “What?” Ilya looked up at Shane in shock. “What?” Shane grinned widely, clearly pleased with himself. “You speak Russian?” “I said I learn? You taught me first words.” “Yes but, you understand me already? Even when I’m speaking quietly?” Shane’s eyes widened. He suddenly let go of Ilya and pulled back. “Oh fuck,” Shane switched back to English, “you didn’t mean for me to hear that. It was private. Oh shit, Ilya I… I wanted to surprise you with how hard I’d worked, I didn’t realize.” Shane had gone from glowing to completely crushed. “No, no, you are perfect.” Ilya pulled Shane back towards him, clinging to him. “You love me. Just surprised.” “I didn’t mean… to invade your privacy. That’s… shit... Ilya I’d never want to do that.” Shane was still tense and panicking a little. Ilya wanted him to relax, for their last few minutes together to feel good. He had to go soon and they both knew it. Ilya was painfully aware of the passing of time. He’d dedicated his life to a game where seconds mattered, even half seconds. Tonight they were meeting at Shane’s hotel room to buy just a few more minutes, instead of being at his apartment here in Boston. The impromptu celebration for Erickson after his announcement had cut into his hopes for a longer, more relaxed time with Shane, making a few more memories in his space so it felt less lonely. “Sit, sit,” Ilya urged, trying to arrange both of them so they sat on the bed together. Shane did as he asked, but he as still looking down. He took a moment before speaking, trying to figure out the best way to sooth Shane. He couldn’t bear the thought of parting like this. “I do not know if I have to words to explain, but it is okay. Listen less to my words, more to how I say them. Listen to this.” He cupped Shane’s cheek. “Listen to how my body is. When you first spoke, how did I respond?” “You relaxed, like I’d comforted you. That felt so good, feeling like what I did paid off and I could take care of you.” Shane spoke slowly, haltingly, but his voice eased with each word. Ilya’s question had landed as he’d hoped, and Shane was figuring out for himself that everything way okay. “I liked that you heard me. So many times I spoke, part of me wanted to be heard, always. Though, if you’d understood the first time I told you I loved you, would have been a disaster.

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  10. “Hey, Hollander, did you see the news about Rozanov?” Shane’s head snaps up and he almost gives himself whiplash. It’s deja vu, and it throws him back to that moment last season when Ilya’s father passed and he went MIA. His teammates had speculated, but Shane had known the truth – Ilya’s father had passed and he’d flown back to Russia to take care of family matters. “No?” He states simply, because he doesn’t trust his tongue to not betray him. What could Ilya possibly have done that would get him on the news? A phone is passed over, and Shane squints against the light and the tiny font of the news article. In big, bold letters the title reads ‘HOCKEY STAR ILYA ROZANOV SEVERELY INJURED IN CAR CRASH.’ It’s accompanied by a generic picture from the Boston news channel, but Shane doesn’t scroll down any further. He can’t. He doesn’t think his brain is capable of any thoughts currently. The phone drops out of his shaking hand and he realizes belatedly that tears are blurring his vision. “I gotta go.” --- OR, Ilya is in a car accident. Shane hurries to be by his side, and outs them in the process. Set during the year Ilya is playing for Boston.

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  11. Cameras flashed, charity banners waved, the stands were overflowing with fans. Today, none of it mattered. It was only the three of them now, carrying their son onto the ice for the first time. “To the ice, let’s go!” Ilya said softly.

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  12. just a fic about them being cute shane and Ilya had now been married for six months and playing together for five. They loved every second of it, the games, the chirping, the shared hotel rooms that somehow always ended with one of them stealing the other’s pillow. It felt like making up for all the years they’d wasted pretending they weren’t in love. Ilya adored it. He could finally hold Shane’s hand in public, talk about him in interviews, and say things like “my husband” without flinching. But there was still that tiny voice at the back of his head whispering hide. For Shane, that voice was more like a full marching band. He was getting better, though. Slowly. He didn’t flinch when Ilya grabbed his hand anymore. He only scowled a littlewhen Ilya kissed his cheek in front of teammates. But still, the world hadn’t quite caught up with them. The media preferred to call them rivals instead of married. And the ones who did acknowledge it seemed to dissect their every move like scientists studying penguin mating rituals. Shane hated it. He’d blocked every gossip account within a ten-mile radius. He didn’t see why two hockey players being in love needed to be news. Meanwhile, Ilya lived on the side of social media where people posted fan art, heart emojis, and wrote essays about how they’d “saved hockey.” He saw the good. He wanted to give them more. Shane wanted to crawl into the nearest rink freezer and hide. Still, there were always haters, the “keep hockey straight” crowd. Shane ignored them. Ilya pretended to, but sometimes the comments still stung. They were walking hand in hand with Anya before a game, their ritual, talking about their six-month anniversary plans. Ilya was thrilled. Shane was nervous. “I have it all planned out,” Ilya announced, beaming. Shane side-eyed him. “That’s… not reassuring.” “Ah, moya lyubov, is surprise,” Ilya smirked. “That’s even less reassuring.” Before Ilya could retort, a group of young hockey bros spotted them. “Rozanov! Hollander!” Shane’s shoulders tensed immediately. The guys came over, grinning, phones ready. “Can we get a photo?” Ilya glanced at his husband, who smiled a little too tightly and nodded. Ilya squeezed his hand. “Of course.” They posed, smiled, said polite goodbyes. The fans walked away, but Shane caught the sideways look at their intertwined hands. His stomach twisted. “Come, let’s go home,” Ilya said softly, tugging his hand. He didn’t add before I commit a murder with a hockey stick. At home, Shane started packing their gear while Ilya made lunch and fed Anya. His phone buzzed. It was Harris. Harris: hey, ilya. hate to do this, but you said you wanted to know when stuff popped up. might wanna see this. Attached was a photo of them from earlier — smiling, holding hands. Cute. Except the caption read: “Guess they’re still trying to make their ‘relationship’ look normal.” Ilya stared at it for a full ten seconds before muttering something in Russian that probably shouldn’t be translated. Ilya: thank you, Harris. will hide from Shane. Ilya: why can’t they just accept us? Harris: they’re idiots. don’t let it get to you. Ilya: I don’t. it’s Shane I worry about. He sighed, shoved his phone away, and went back to making lunch. Halfway through, Shane wandered in and they got… distracted. In the way that leads to being late for warm-ups. By the time Shane’s phone alarm went off, they were both breathless and tangled on the couch. “...worth it,” Ilya panted. “Completely unprofessional,” Shane muttered, buttoning his shirt. “But yes.” As they drove to the rink, Shane scrolled through the Centaurs group chat, laughing at the chaos. He didn’t mention the photo. But something in him had snapped when he saw it. He was tired. Tired of pretending, tired of being polite, tired of hiding behind “no comment.” So when they arrived, Shane turned to Ilya, grabbed his jersey, and kissed him. Hard. Long enough that when they pulled away, another car had pulled up beside them. Bood leaned out his window, smirking. “Damn, your relationship gets questioned and suddenly you two go full rom-com in the parking lot.” Shane’s face went red. “They have to see what they’re missing out on,” he shot back, to the utter shock of both Bood and Ilya. Ilya blinked. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?” Inside, Bood elbowed Evan. “Hollander’s snapped. Love finally broke him.” During warm-ups, Shane skated next to Ilya, watching him laugh. Why had he kept the two halves of his life separate for so long? Maybe the point wasn’t to prove love and hockey could coexist, maybe it was to just live it. Then Ilya’s hair came loose from under his helmet. Shane, without thinking, pulled off his glove and fixed it. The look Ilya gave him was somewhere between shock and heart eyes. They won 2–1. Both scored. Of course.

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  13. “I don’t know. Both, maybe. I held his arms down once, and—” Ilya says, and then hesitates. Yeah. Yeah, this was enough. Probably. He didn’t care. It was enough that the world found out about them through a video. He didn’t really want to explain the specifics behind the intimacy they shared, either. “Yeah,” he says, and lamely repeats. “Yeah.” Galina hums, and pauses. Leans back again. “Have you heard of shibari?” Ilya hadn’t realised that rope, too, can be a form of discipline.

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  14. “He looks so happy,” Jackie said, joining him at the railing. She rested her head against his shoulder, wrapped an arm around his waist. “It’s really nice to see.” “Yeah, it really is,” Hayden said. He sighed heavily. “Fuck. I’m gonna have to start liking Ilya Rozanov, aren’t I?” Jackie giggled, rubbing his back in a placating manner. “I’m afraid so, babe.” OR 5 times Hayden started understanding Shane and Ilya's relationship, and the 1 time he finally told Shane he did.

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    AO3:
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  15. The doorbell rings just as Shane is finishing brushing his teeth – the first thing they rose to do, because he wants to kiss Ilya good morning – and he and Ilya exchange a confused look in the bathroom mirror. It's barely dawn, and Ilya's curls are adorably tousled from sleep as he scratches his ribs lazily, toothbrush dangling from the corner of his mouth. 

    Shane hesitates, then rinses his toothpaste out and runs a hand through his hair. "Fuck, it's probably anti-doping."

    No one else would be here at this hour – unless it's an emergency.

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    AO3:
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  16. “I think what people are most interested in is whether your game—against each other— changed once you were together.” They looked at each other. Shaking their heads. It was never going to go away. But they didn’t intend to change their approach in keeping some things to themselves. —--------------—- another story of people trying to find out when it all started.

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    AO3:
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  17. Ilya Rozanov is a paramedic at the Ottawa Centaurs' home rink, and is on duty when Shane Hollander, star center for the team, goes down on the ice. On the ambulance ride to the hospital, Shane finds solace in Ilya's presence, and a connection is formed. --- Day thirty fucking one of flufftober: "stay?"

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  18. Shane and Ilya celebrate their first Halloween together as husbands

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  19. Ilya leaned in closer to Shane’s ear. He almost jerked away, but managed to stop himself as Ilya spoke. “Is very loud in here. And you have a long story to tell. So we should go somewhere that you can tell it to me.” Shane looked at Ilya. This was dangerous. So dangerous. But he had been careful for so long. And he knew how to be safe. Maybe he could allow himself this little bit of happiness. He could be selfish this one time. What was the worst that could happen? Or: Shane has a secret. Ilya is going to figure it out.

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    AO3:
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  20. A video of Shane sucking Ilya’s dick is leaked. Over the next twenty-four hours, Ilya goes on an odyssey.

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    AO3:
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