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  1. It used to worry Shane. In the early days of their heated rivalry, where the line between fucking and frenemies had started to get shaky and blurred, he used to lie awake at night wondering what Ilya saw in him. If he used to lurk in the murky depths of online gossip columns to read about Boston Raiders Captain Ilya Rozanov’s latest speculated flings with supermodels and upcoming song writing prodigies; well, that information was between him and his internet cookies and that’s where it was going to stay. It was hard not to compare himself though. All of Ilya’s previous known partners (and there were many of them) were tall, razor thin and packing a stunning pair of perfectly round elevated breasts. Shane has none of these qualities. He’s not particularly tall - at least by the standards of ice hockey players - he’s stocky, and he is pretty positive that he does not possess a rack. And yet. And yet, Ilya cannot seem to keep his hands away from Shane’s chest. __ Shane notices Ilya's obsession with his chest. He decides to go along for the ride.

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  2. Ilya lets Shane go and says, “Come with me, I made us breakfast.” “But—” he stutters out. Ilya eyes him so he says, “Did you not want to—” looking down at Ilya’s crotch. Ilya smirks. “Later— I have plan for you today,” he tells him before he turns towards the door. OR Ilya finally gives Shane the facial he hasn't been able to stop thinking about.

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  3. “Hi,” Hollander says, leaning forward, his lips grazing Ilya’s. Ilya pulls back. “Are you going to behave?” Hollander considers this and, for a rare moment this evening, sounds completely genuine when he responds, “Is that what you want?” Or Shane walks Ilya like a dog and gets exactly what he wants.

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  4. “Shane Hollander,” Ilya gasped, faux-aghast. “You are wet. Wet like pussy.” Shane flushed and tried to squirm out of Rozanov’s grasp, to no avail. “S’just sweat,” he murmured. “It’s just fucking… hot in here.” Ilya’s strong grip tightened, vice-like, around Shane’s hip. His grin curled into something cruel, something bright and sparkling. “Is not hot. You are bad liar. Take it off.”

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  5. Shane pulls back, carefully cradling Ilya’s face. “Maybe we shouldn’t.” “You don’t want to?” Ilya’s eyes are bottomless; swimming with grief. He says it like he really means, You don’t want me? “That isn’t what I mean,” Shane says gently, brushing his thumb over Ilya’s cheekbone. Ilya’s eyes flutter shut, as if being treated so tenderly causes him physical pain. Like he isn’t used to it. “You’re hurting. I don’t want you to regret it in the morning.” Ilya’s eyes open. “I have never regretted a moment with you.” * Or: the missing hotel room scene in Florida after Shane comforts Ilya.

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  6. sicken me by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • E
    • ✓

    2025-12-24

    “You lie to yourself, Hollander. Not to me.” “What, because you know me so well?” “Yes. I do. Don’t I?”

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  7. “I got the feeling you were kind of… jealous. Of Hayden. After what happened last time. With me touching him. So I was wondering why you… y'know. Encouraged him. To do that. To me.”

    Ilya ran a hand through Shane's glossy hair, considering his answer. “Remember that time in your trophy room?”

    How Shane immediately turned red was answer enough. 

    “I felt like I was fucking a king. I felt powerful,” Ilya continued. “And to see someone getting on their knees for you… It makes me feel the same way.”

    Or: The Pikes visit the Hollander-Rozanov cottage. Ilya is a little jealous. Then he's not.

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  8. “Just for a while.” Shane breathed, his eyes unwavering and persistent. “I just - I just need a taste. I’ll be good, I promise.” He licked his lips and edged closer on his knees. “I’ve been waiting for you. Don’t I deserve a reward?” He’d never been one for propriety, but Ilya was quite sure that heat-drunk omegas who barged their way into homes and scandalized staff didn’t merit praise. But he’d never been one to deny Shane anything, so he relented anyway. -- Or: Shane goes into heat a month before the wedding and throws propriety out the window.

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  9. Ilya learns to relax, sort of.

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  10. Ilya and Shane have their first Christmas together as a married couple. Gifts are exchanged and naturally the two compete to see who is the better gift giver. Will Shane win with his sweet sentimental gift? Or will it be Ilya's fulfillment of one of Shane's fantasies?

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  11. Domestic bliss between Canada's finest hockey players turned lovers, Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander.

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  12. “When did you start feeling like this?” she asks. “It started in Detroit in December, last year.” “Do anything out of the ordinary then?” “No, I do not—” he comes to a complete stop, and Ash walks ahead of him for a few steps before turning. “What? What is it?” The picture swirls in front of him like vibrant water colours splashing on a canvas. Cliff beckons him over to where he and Victor are perched on their bikes, and Victor holds his phone out to him. The headline is clear: Is Rose Landry dating MLH star Shane Hollander? A pit forms in Ilya’s stomach, cramping uncomfortably as if carved with a rusted knife, and distantly he recalls feeling the same way back in December. There is no fucking way that’s been the problem. •— or, hot off the press from my tl after episode 4: ‘ilya is the first alpha to go through rejection sickness’

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  13. Morning Love by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • E
    • ✓

    2025-12-23

    These past two games were hard on Shane; he was tired, he was a little hurt, and he missed his fucking boyfriend. But maybe said boyfriend was closer than he thought. Or Shane is a little overwhelmed, and Ilya is a big softy.

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  14. “я тебя люблю,” Shane said softly, basking in pride at what he knew was near-perfect pronunciation. I love you. Saying it felt more natural than breathing. Ilya groaned and tugged Shane close for a fierce kiss. “Do not speak Russian to me right now or we will never go to this party,” Ilya threatened against Shane’s lips. “And I promised Dykstra’s daughter I’d destroy her in foosball." * or, Shane and Ilya's first Centaurs christmas party as a married couple. set after The Long Game

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  15. Ilya walks over to Shane who’s wearing one of Ilya’s black t-shirts that’s a little too big on him, and black sweatpants. Shane turns his head to look at Ilya who’s now standing right next to him before he sees Ilya get down onto his knees in front of him. “Ilya, what are you—” “Keep doing your routine,” Ilya tells him, looking up at him through his lashes as he starts to lower Shane’s pants. OR Ilya gets impatient while Shane is doing his skin care routine, so he does something about it.

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  16. “Mexico top. Hollywood blow job guy. And me.” - Headed Rivalry, Chapter 20

    “I couldn’t even get you off my mind when I was with those guys, I was so obsessed with you, even then,” Shane admitted.

    “Really?” Ilya craned his neck up to make eye contact with Shane.

    Fill for the Fulfill A Crave-ing prompt: Shane accidentally moans Ilya's name while hooking up with another man.

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  17. The wisdom tooth in the X-ray looks fine on the surface but turns sideways inside Shane’s gums. “I would recommend extraction,” says Dr. Robbins. Shane thinks, is it so easy a thing to take from someone? He tells her, “I’ll book an appointment.” “You’re in luck, Mr. Hollander, a patient cancelled their surgery this morning and we have an open slot in an hour’s time. Do you have someone who can drive you home?” OR, Shane gets his wisdom tooth removed and returns to Ilya high on drugs, featuring his unfortunate oral fixation.

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  18. Jane: Did I do something wrong? Please, Shane thinks, blinking rapidly. Tell me so I won’t do it again. (Or: the one where Shane drops and Ilya does something about it.)

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  19. Concussion Protocol by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • E
    • ✓

    2025-12-22

    Shane's concussion recovery is pretty clear: nothing too strenuous, nothing that will up his blood pressure, and nothing that will make him too excited. This leaves certain... gaps... in his normal routine. (In which Shane is horny and Ilya is trying his best.)

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  20. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale— He smells it, then. Thick and acrid, staining the back of his tongue in the taste of second-hand smoke. His eyes open, watering as he hacks a deep-seated cough. He scans the rooftop, wondering what the fuck is on fire when he sees him—cast in shadows, face half illuminated from the glow of the city below them and a cigarette dangling from his plush mouth. Ilya Rozanov. OR: the Christmas Party fic

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