1 – 8 of 8 Works in Vampire Ilya Rozanov
- Vampire Ilya Rozanov ×
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"We consider ourselves a modern team, inclusive, you know. So we're excited to have someone with Shane's … background," the General Manager of the Montreal Midnighters is saying to his mother, hand clamped uncomfortably on Shane's shoulder.
Rozanov is watching him. His lips are tight, his eyes serious.
Shane looks away.
He's pissed he wasn't first, of course, but he can't be surprised that Boston wanted to go with a more traditional option. Vampires as forwards and wings, weres as defense and goalies. Faes for nothing.
- Part 25 of here a fic there a fic everywhere a fic-fic
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,723
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #95419271
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Bloodbanker$ by Anonymous
Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types, Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-07-13
Ask Ilya Rozanov and he’d tell you that the only thing worse than being a broke PhD student was being a broke PhD student facing eviction from your Humans Only rent-controlled apartment because you maybe, accidentally got yourself Turned over summer break.
Cue the Bloodbanker$ app and its allegedly discreet and lucrative arrangements: a whole swipeable nest of generous Vamp4Vamp ‘Donors’ waiting for the perfect fledgling to spoil.
Seducing an old rich dude with this hot bod? Light work.
‘Shane, 30*, O+’ wouldn’t know what hit him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 20,054
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #88504891
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Rozanov’s eyes shoot open, and Shane swears he sees a glimmer of red in them before they fade back to their curious peridot green.
“Hollander.”
“Are you okay?” Shane asks awkwardly, adjusting his grip on his towel.
- Part 24 of Retro Writing - May 2026 Challenge
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,345
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #85461371
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things that go bump in the night by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-03-30
“I’m Shane. Hollander. Vampire hunter,” The introduction would be madness anywhere else. But Shane had ducked out to catch his breath, exhausted from the constant stream of networking and chatter with other vampire hunters. He was a newly minted hunter and beamed with pride to tell anyone about it. He was certain this stranger wouldn’t be scandalised but when he held out his hand, they just stared at it.
“Ilya Rozanov,” he introduced himself, then flashed Shane a wicked smile, “vampire.”
Shane hunts feral vampires. Ilya is a vampire, but Shane's not interested in hunting him - no, he wants something far more dangerous. When the lines of their rivalry start to blur, they find themselves entangled in an age old conflict that will have far-reaching consequences.
- Part 2 of heated rivalry fics
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 29,563
- Chapters:
- 6/6
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #81593171
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Less Dead Than You’d Think by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-03-02
Newly turned vampire Shane Hollander is determined not to be a monster or let his new status stop him in any way from his dream of becoming an NHL star. He stubbornly keeps a diurnal schedule, only drinks animal blood, and never so much as bares his fangs in polite company.
His careful rhythm is disrupted when natural born vampire Ilya Rozanov waltzes into his life. Ilya is his opposite in every way: no sleep schedule to speak of, freely mixes matters of blood and sex, and grins with his fangs when he’s particularly pleased.
All this should repulse Shane, of course, not make him so desperate it’s as if some part of him has been waiting his whole life to surrender to the uncontrollable attraction.
[Now with a sequel: More Alive Than You’d Know]
- Part 1 of LD/MA
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 30,626
- Chapters:
- 7/7
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79419856
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beyond redemption by blankjournals
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-22
“Don’t they still hurt, Ilya? “I should not. I can hurt—” “What about here? You have fed from here before,” Shane asks, a mischievous look in his eyes, as he brings Ilya’s hand up to rest on the outer part of his shoulder. Fed, God, it makes him feel like a child that needs to be taken care of. Lazy, cannot even catch his own food— “Let me help,” Shane whispers, “Let me keep them warm as well.” OR: the vampire ilya smut no one asked for, ft human shane inventing the concept of fang- warming.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,039
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #80005676
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Ilya barely listened to a word coming out of his lips, more focused on what was nestled inside of them. His incisors, which should be elongated into full fangs like Ilya’s, were only slightly pointed. None of the other teeth had sharpened either, something no vampire could avoid when hungry. Ilya had only seen such teeth on a certain type of vampire, ones that would never have been left alone to cry in an alley while a strange vampire fed. This vampire, this Shane, was a fledgling. Or Ilya tries to get a quick meal in and ends up adopting a hurt vampire and defiling him in the same night
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,688
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79569601
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A strong arm caught him easily, guiding him back against the shelves. The force was inhuman but controlled and gentle. The vampire leaned in, close enough that Shane could feel the chill radiating from him. “I did not come here to frighten you,” he said softly, forehead nearly brushing Shane’s. “I came to ask you on a date.” The library had settled into its late-hour stillness. Most of the overhead lights had been extinguished, leaving only a handful of brass-shaded lamps burning overhead, their yellow glow casting long shadows across the reading tables and towering shelves. Dust hung faintly in the air, visible when Shane shifted beneath the light. The place smelled of old paper, leather bindings, and furniture polish. Shane sat alone at one of the long oak tables, collar loosened, sleeves rolled to his forearms. He scratched absently at the back of his neck as his eyes dragged over the same line of text for what felt like the hundredth time. The words refused to stick. His head throbbed faintly, and the wire frames of his spectacles pinched at his temples. The clock mounted high on the wall ticked loudly in the quiet. He let out a muted groan and dropped his forehead against the tabletop, careful not to knock his books over. “Now then,” came a voice from the aisle, firm but not unkind. “You know better than that, young man. No sleeping in the reading room.” Shane lifted his head and found the librarian approaching, a stern woman in sensible shoes pushing a cart stacked neatly with returned volumes. Her hair was pinned tight at the nape of her neck, her eyes sharp behind round lenses. “Sorry, ma’am,” Shane murmured, rubbing his face with both hands. There was no arguing it. He snapped his book shut, slid it into his satchel along with his notes, and cinched the strap tight. His studies could wait until morning. Tonight, his mind was finished. He shrugged into his dusty brown leather jacket, smoothing it down out of habit, then slung the satchel over his shoulder and made his way toward the heavy front doors. Outside, the cold greeted him sharply. Winter had settled in earnest, the air biting and dry as it rushed over his face. His nose stung immediately, cheeks flushing red as he exhaled into his cupped hands. The street was quiet, save for the distant hum of an automobile somewhere far off. He lingered beneath the stone archway, shifting on his feet to keep warm, before stepping out onto the path. A cloud of smoke drifted across his vision. He coughed softly and turned his head, squinting into the gloom. For a moment, he thought it was just shadow pooled against the building. Then he saw the ember. A bright orange glow flared briefly, illuminating a cigarette between pale fingers. Shane blinked and did a double take, turning fully now as the rest of the figure resolved itself under the lamplight. The man stood half-hidden near the wall, tall and broad-shouldered, coat collar turned up against the cold. Curly, light-colored hair fell loosely across his forehead. Even in the dim light, his skin appeared unnaturally pale. Shane felt suddenly aware of himself. Of the emptiness of the street. Of the late hour. The man was…handsome. A shiver ran down Shane’s spine. He gestured awkwardly toward the cigarette. “I don’t think you’re meant to smoke here,” he said, voice hesitant despite knowing full well he was right. “Oh?” The reply was smooth, accented, foreign in a way that made Shane’s shoulders tense. “There’s a notice,” Shane added, pointing toward the sign affixed near the entrance. He nodded once, lips pressed thin, and quickly walked off without waiting for a response. The following night arrived without ceremony. Shane found himself once again leaving the library late, satchel heavier this time with completed work. The path ahead was lit by tall streetlamps, their bulbs flickering softly as he walked beneath them. The cold crept through his coat, sharp and persistent. But it wasn’t the cold that made him uneasy. It was the feeling. That unmistakable prickle along his spine, the sense of being watched. Of footsteps that weren’t quite there. He told himself it was foolish, just nerves and imagination, but he didn’t turn around. Then a voice spoke from behind him. “Are you going to ignore me forever?" The words were smooth, carrying a thick Russian drawl that slid down his spine like ice. The sound of it echoed faintly in the open street. Shane yelped, nearly jumping out of his skin as he spun around, bag slipping off his shoulder. “What the fuck—?!” he shouted.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,944
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76932081