5581 – 5600 of 6,040 Works in Shane Hollander
- Shane Hollander ×
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At first Ilya thinks it’s some kind of deformed bear. Then he sees the weird little claw-things it has instead of paws, and realizes it’s a massive stuffed sloth. “Looks like someone’s going all-out this year,” Bood says from behind him. - Or: Ilya and Shane might be spending their first Valentine's Day as a married couple apart, but Shane's not letting that stop him.
- Part 2 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,100
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75660281
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“Shane- Hey. Hey.” His voice cracks. A tremor runs through his hands as he turns Shane carefully onto his side, supporting his head so it doesn’t flop. The warmth of Shane’s skin is still there, but it feels wrong now, like a warning instead of an invitation. Fuck. What the hell just happened? He tries to steady himself, but his hands are trembling so badly that they fumble over Shane’s body, checking for any sign that he’s okay. A pulse. Anything. His head is racing, his chest tight with panic. When he finds the pulse, fast, irregular, but there, Ilya exhales shakily. But it doesn’t help the wave of dread crashing over him. - Shane passes out during sex, and it freaks Ilya out.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,019
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75666621
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Just One Chance. by SuckonLarrysDick
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-12-12
“Maybe he has a crush on you or something,” Hayden said when he first noticed Ilya’s interest in his best friend. “Jesus,” Shane responded. “What? Isn’t he bi?” “I have no idea,” Shane said, even though he knows. Ilya is charming; his sex appeal is off the roof (even he, Shane Hollander, can admit that), and Ilya constantly flirts with people- both guys and girls. That’s why the concept of Ilya Rozanov taking an interest in him is out of question; the guy is a legend on and off the ice -- Or, the College/University AU where Ilya is the captain of the hockey team, who may or may not have a crush on Shane Hollander.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,118
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75628216
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save a horse, ride a centaur by catknives
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-12-12
At first Shane had been doubtful about how a cowboy related to a Roman soldier, but Ilya had insisted it was based on a movie he’d watched on a plane once. He swore other people would get the reference. “We will, uh, how you say, break the internet?” Ilya had said when he pitched the idea in bed last month. “I don’t think I’ve ever said that,” Shane had replied, unable to resist the urge to be a little shit. It was their favorite type of flirting. “Is expression,” Ilya’d huffed. “I don’t think anyone’s said that in at least a decade.” “Am I not anyone? I just said it. Keep up, Hollander.” For their first Halloween together as a married couple, Ilya convinces Shane to dress up in a couple's costume.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,476
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75651081
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After a high-pressure game, Shane Hollander is a live wire of anxious perfectionism, desperately insisting he's "fine." Ilya Rozanov knows better. He can smell the oncoming omega crash. When Shane's brittle control finally shatters, Ilya must use every ounce of his firm, grounding alpha presence to guide his omega through the collapse—from frantic resistance, to overwhelming relief, and finally, into the safe, quiet space of total submission and praise. (Or: The one where Shane falls apart, and Ilya is there to catch him.) Collapse Into Me __________________ The hotel room door clicked shut behind them, sealing out the roar of the arena, the flash of cameras, the echoing chants of both their names. Shane’s name had been chanted louder tonight. He’d been perfect. Flawless. A machine on the ice. And now, inside the quiet, opulent suite, he was methodically coming apart at the seams. Ilya watched him from the doorway, his own gear bag dropping to the floor with a soft thud. Shane had already marched across the living room, his movements sharp and economical. He placed his own bag by the closet with military precision, toeing it into a perfect parallel line with the wall. He shrugged out of his tailored dress jacket, folded it once, and laid it over the back of an armchair. His tie came next, the silk whispering as he pulled it loose, but instead of discarding it, he looped it neatly around his knuckles, over and over, a tight, anxious coil . To anyone else, he looked composed. Collected. The consummate professional finishing his post-game routine. But Ilya smelled it. Under the sweat and the sharp, chemical scent of the arena ice, Shane’s omega scent was thin. Wispy. Like burnt sugar and over-steeped tea, pulled too tight until it was about to snap. It was a scent Ilya knew intimately—the prelude to a crash. It was in the air between them, a frantic, fading sweetness that made the back of Ilya’s teeth ache with instinct. “Shane,” Ilya said, his voice deliberately calm. Neutral. He took a single, casual step into the room, not wanting to crowd him yet. “I’m fine,” Shane replied instantly, the words clipped. He didn’t turn around. He began to move, not toward the bedroom or the shower, but in a tight, precise line from the sofa to the window and back. Pacing. His dress shoes made a soft, relentless shush-shush on the carpet. “Just need to wind down. The second period, that turnover by the blue line—it was a misread. I saw Tremblay cutting in, but I thought he’d go wide, and if I’d just pivoted half a second sooner, taken the inside lane instead of committing to the boards—” “It led to a goal,” Ilya finished for him, staying where he was, leaning against the wall by the door. He kept his body loose, non-threatening. He unbuttoned his own cuffs, rolling his sleeves up slowly, an attempt to project normalcy. “You won, Shane. 4-1. You had two assists. You were the best player on the ice.” “It was a preventable goal,” Shane shot back, his voice tightening, rising a half-octave. The pacing quickened. Six steps to the window, a sharp pivot, six steps back. His hands flexed at his sides, the coiled tie cutting into his palm. “A stupid, careless— I knew their forecheck pattern. I knew it. I told Hayden to watch for it, I diagrammed it in the locker room. And then I fell for it. Like a rookie. They’ll see that on film. They’ll all see it.” His scent spiked, souring with the acid tang of anxiety. Ilya saw the fine tremor in Shane’s trapped hands before he shoved them into the pockets of his suit pants. He was still in the uniform of the public captain, the tie a little too tight, the crisp white shirt straining across shoulders held in rigid, defensive formation. Every line of him was vibrating with a energy that had nowhere to go but inward, turning toxic. Ilya pushed off the wall. “Come. Shower. The steam will help. We will order food.” He kept his tone practical, a lifeline of simple, physical next steps. “In a minute,” Shane dismissed, veering away from Ilya’s approach as if burned. He ended up at the minibar, staring at its glossy door as if it contained the answers. “I just need to think it through. Map it out. So it doesn’t happen again. If I can see the sequence, where the decision tree branched wrong, I can lock it down.” “You can think in the shower.” Ilya took another step, his voice layering with a gentle alpha rumble, a coaxing note meant to soothe, to pull him gently back from the edge. It had the opposite effect. Shane flinched, actually flinched, and took two rapid steps back, putting the bulk of an armchair between them. His eyes, when they finally flicked to Ilya’s, were wide and glassy with suppressed panic. The beautiful hazel was almost all pupil. “Don’t. Just— don’t, Ilya.” His voice cracked on the name. “I’m fine. I need space. I need to process. I can’t— I can’t think when you’re…” He gestured vaguely at Ilya’s entire presence. The ‘fine’ was a brittle lie, shattering even as he said it. Ilya could see the cracks spreading, a web of fine fractures across the perfect ice of Shane’s composure. Shane’s breathing was all wrong—shallow sips of air that didn’t reach his lungs, the rise and fall of his chest too quick and high. His knuckles were white where he gripped the back of the chair. The beautiful, controlled omega who commanded the ice with a whisper was being devoured from the inside by a frantic, scrambling thing, an animal caught in a trap of its own spinning thoughts. Ilya’s own instincts, usually kept on a firm, civilized leash, began to stir and then rise. A low- grade alarm pulsed through him, syncing with his heartbeat. His omega is in distress. He is not safe. He is not grounded. He is hurting himself. The analytical part of his brain, the strategist, concurred coldly: Shane was spiraling, his thoughts looping into a self-flagellating frenzy with no exit. He was seconds from hyperventilating, minutes from a full, shuddering omega crash that would leave him feeling raw, sick, and vulnerable for days. The time for gentle coaxing was over. The time for patient waiting had passed. Shane was too far gone to reach for the lifeline himself. Ilya would have to go in and get him. Ilya shifted. It was subtle, but in the charged, silent room, it was as loud as a thunderclap. He straightened to his full height, rolling his shoulders back, his spine aligning into a posture of pure, unassailable authority. He let his own scent bloom—not an aggressive challenge, but a deep, anchoring, deliberate wave of cedar, old leather, and steady, warm earth. An alpha’s scent of stability. Of claim. Of here, and now, and me. He poured it into the space, a tangible force meant to counter the thin, panicked sweetness choking the air.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,409
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75628616
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everything is embarrassing by herochaoz
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-12
Shane and Ilya reminisce on their younger days while on their honeymoon <3 spoilers for The Long Game ahead!!!!!!! could just be an au tho shrug
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,693
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75661686
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“Can you still stay the night?”
“Yes,” Ilya says quickly, nodding into Shane’s neck. “I will stay the night.”
I will stay forever, he doesn’t say. Just ask me, and I will do it.
- Part 2 of Мой сладкий мальчик
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,011
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75633226
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“I don’t hate him!” Hayden says, which is only true because hate doesn’t quite capture it. No, he despises Rozanov. In his defense, everyone with a pulse and without the last name Hollander does. Or: 5 times Hayden doesn’t get Shane and Ilya’s relationship, +1 time he does.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,450
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #75633306
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Scott Hunter knew there was something weird going on between Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander. He clocked it the first time he saw them interact. He wasn't sure *what* it was, but he knew it was *something*. So he watched. For years.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 13,162
- Chapters:
- 7/7
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75443791
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hold you as the water rushes in by justhockey
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-12-12
“Ilya,” Shane whispers. “Ilya, baby, can you open your eyes?” He’s met with silence, and the frantic tremor of his heart turns into an earthquake. The ice beneath him seeps into his veins and freezes his blood. Panic claws at his chest, scaling his ribcage like a ladder and lodging in his throat. He can barely breathe around the terror. “Ilya, you need to open your eyes. You need to look at me.”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,417
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #75662796
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“First, I ravish you,” Ilya murmurs, his lips brushing Shane’s bruised ribs, sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. “Apologize for injury I gave.” Shane’s breath hitches as Ilya’s hand slides down his body toward his ass. He can barely breathe when that rough fingertip brushes his hole, and it’s not because of the bruised ribs. “And then?” he asks, voice breathless. Ilya looks up, eyes dark and heavy with desire. He presses one final kiss to the marred skin before digging his fingers deeper into Shane’s skin, making him gasp. “And then, I give you new bruises. Better ones to remind you of me.” or; Ilya feels bad for being rough with Shane on ice… Shane, on the other hand, is kinda into it.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,089
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #75578446
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Lily and Jane Fall in Love by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-12
The five encounters with Shane that forced Ilya to lie (brag) to his teammates about his mysterious Montreal Girl, and the time they learned that the lies had never really mattered in the first place.
Or, Shane and Ilya are Not That Subtle about the identities of Jane and Lily, but it doesn't matter because their friends are idiots anyway.
(Behind the scenes of the first fic in this series, “The Montreal Girl”)
- Part 2 of The Montreal Girl (Lily & Jane)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,681
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75665376
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“Geno says that you’re hanging out with Ilya Rozanov.” Crosby says, and Shane’s heart drops down to the pit of his stomach. Oh fuck. What does Geno know. What does the team know. What does Sidney Crosby know.
Or, Sidney Crosby calls Shane Hollander to the Winner's Room.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,333
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75660816
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Centuries pass, nations rise and fall, names change, but Ilya remembers.
--
Hasegawa Shigeru opened his mouth to reply, but Ilya was lost.
No longer warm, an icy wind cut through rough clothes to bite at the patches of skin that he’d bared to the elements. White snow and black, tall trees. A man trudged beside him, his hood up, his feet sure in the snow. He turned and smiled and Ilya’s heart tipped over with love. Hasegawa Shigeru. It was Shigeru, but dressed in clothing in a style much older than those Ilya had worn on his own shores, but still undoubtedly home.
Shigeru spoke to him, but not in a language he knew. Old words and old clothes, and an old love, so deep that it brought tears to Ilya’s eyes.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,378
- Chapters:
- 4/4
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75348226
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Yuna has let go of a lot in her life, including her own dream to play professional hockey. But that's alright; she has Shane and David and they have built a storybook legacy together. Then Ilya Rozanov gets hurt and suddenly Shane's calling her asking if they'll go pick up his archrival from the hospital.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 11,554
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #75629146
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watch you lookin' at a broken wing by only_the_golden
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-12-11
Shane decides to give therapy a try. Title from 'Luna Moth' by Maya Hawke
- Part 1 of Autistic Shane Hollander One-Shots
- Part 1 of i had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,140
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75575296
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Ilya felt the hit before he processed what was happening. Immediately, all the air left his lungs as he flipped, slamming into the ice, head and shoulder first. The sickening crack in his shoulder should have been concerning, but the way his stomach lurched and his head spun was all he could focus on. Ilya Rozanov was down, and it didn’t seem like he was getting back up.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,286
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75590296
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married, apparently! by mochiwangj
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-12-11
"Ilya: I didn't drink that much last night. Troy: You were flirting with Shane. Ilya: So what? He's my husband. Troy: You asked if he was single. Troy: And then you cried when he said he wasn't. "
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,237
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75596716
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Shane's shorts got Ilya actin' up by hollzy81
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-11
A quiet afternoon turns dangerous when Shane wears the shorts he knows will ruin Ilya’s self-control. Shane and Ilya were home, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the room. Ilya was sprawled on the plush couch, resting on his back, his eyes glued his phone. The scent of rain-soaked earth drifted in from the open window, mingling with the faint aroma of Shane's cologne, a familiar and comforting presence. Shane emerged from the shower, the steam still clinging to his skin, his hair damp and tousled. He walked downstairs, the soft thud of his bare feet against the wooden floorboards the only sound breaking the silence. He was wearing shorts, but not just any shorts. They were the kind that Ilya knew, the kind that made his breath hitch, the kind that screamed, "Fuck me." They were a faded, soft denim, riding low on his hips, the waistband barely concealing the curve of his ass. Ilya's mouth watered instantly. He couldn't help it. He’d been captivated by Shane since the moment they met, and even after years together, the man still had the power to render him speechless. Shane seemed to notice his husband's reaction, a shy smile playing on his lips. He turned and headed into the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his back to Ilya, offering the perfect view of his ass. Ilya couldn't take it anymore. He rose from the couch in two swift strides, crossing the room and pressing himself against Shane's back. He wrapped his arms around Shane's waist, his hands finding purchase on the soft denim. "These shorts," Ilya murmured, his voice husky, "will be the death of me." He started grinding his half-erect cock against his husband's ass, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through him. Shane moaned, pushing back against his husband, his body arching slightly. "Wore them just for you," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Fuck," Ilya breathed, the word a prayer, a promise. He started squeezing Shane's ass, his fingers kneading the soft flesh. Shane groaned, his body trembling. Ilya trailed kisses along Shane's neck, his lips and teeth finding the sensitive skin just below his ear. Shane closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against his husband's shoulder, and whimpered softly. "Does that feel good?" Ilya asked, his voice a low rumble. Shane moaned and nodded, his breath catching in his throat. Ilya started touching Shane's nipples through his shirt, twitching them between his fingers, teasing them with a gentle touch. Shane moaned out loud, the sound a raw, desperate plea. "Fuck, Ilya... more," he begged, his voice laced with need. Ilya, already on the edge, was completely turned on by everything, the feel of Shane's body against his, the sound of his moans, the way his eyes were glazed with desire. He couldn't help himself. He slapped Shane's ass, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Shane moaned, pressing closer to his husband, his body seeking more. "Again," he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper. Ilya cursed under his breath. "Fuck, Hollander. You’re perfect." And he smacked Shane's ass again, harder this time. Shane whimpered, the sound a mixture of pain and pleasure. "Ilya... fuck..." Shane's cock was leaking furiously, his shorts and boxers soaked in pre-cum, the evidence of his arousal undeniable. He couldn't take it anymore. He ground his ass harder against his husband, his hips moving in a desperate rhythm, and moaned, "Please." Ilya grabbed Shane's hair, pulling his head back, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Words, Hollander. What do you need?" Shane moaned. "I need you to fuck me... on this counter, fuck, Ilya." He started grinding harder, his body writhing with anticipation. "As you wish," Ilya said, his voice a low growl. He reached down, his fingers finding Shane's front. "Spit." Shane obeyed instantly, his eyes locked on Ilya's, and spit on his fingers. "Good boy," Ilya murmured, a possessive edge to his voice. Shane's eyes fluttered at the nickname, his body already trembling with the promise of pleasure. Ilya shoved Shane's shorts and boxers down in one swift movement, revealing his wet, throbbing cock. He started circling his hole with his fingers, his touch slow and deliberate, preparing him. Shane moaned desperately, his body arching. "Please... Ilya..." Ilya smacked his ass again, the sound sharp in the air. "You take what I give you, understand?" "Yes... Fuck... Ilya, whatever you say." Ilya groaned, his own control slipping. He pushed a finger in, slowly, deliberately, stretching Shane's hole. Shane moaned out loud, his body tensing. "This hole is so fucking tight," Ilya whispered, his voice thick with anticipation. "Can't wait to get it all loose." Shane moaned at the words, his hips bucking. Ilya added another finger, scissoring them, his touch becoming more insistent. He moved closer to Shane's lips, hovering over his ear. "Do you want that... want me to ruin your hole and make it mine forever? Ruin you for everyone else?" Shane's eyes rolled back, his head lolling against Ilya's shoulder. Ilya's fingers found his prostate, and he began to stroke it, his touch precise and relentless. Shane moaned, a long, drawn-out sound of pure pleasure. "Yes... fuck... yes, Ilya... ruin me."
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,721
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75604546
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"Tell me, Hollander, who is your hall pass?" In which Ilya asks a question and is completely chill and not at all irrational about Shane's response.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,357
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75566316