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Front Row Seats to Love by Anonymous
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-03-21
Couple watching is Sebbin’s favourite Valentine’s Day activity, and Boston on Valentine’s Day is full of restaurants with red paper hearts taped to the windows, red dresses and flowers, and a hockey player called Brad Hammersmith pretending they’re just best friends who sleep together sometimes.
Or, Seb loves love, and Hammer would like to stop overthinking their relationship.
POV Brad Hammersmith :)
- Part 10 of Just Game Changer things that my brain needs to write
- Part 6 of Hammer/Sebbin is my close personal headcanon
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,144
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #81599076
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Slowly, the realization of what he is asking him to do sets in. “Shane,” he croaks, his voice breaking. I can’t hurt you. “Please,” Always so pretty when he begs. Even like this, all messed up and bloody. Ilya loves him more than life. “I don’t want anyone but you touching me." That finally did it. During the Boston vs. Montreal game, Marleau doesn't knock Shane out completely but still injures him. While a fight breaks out, Shane begs Ilya to help him, right there on the ice in front of the whole arena. Unfortunately, Ilya could never say no to him. [SECOND CHAPTER WITH REACTIONS NOW ADDED]
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,655
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79985826
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Ilya: I think Shane is going to break up with me. Bood: I’m sorry…what? Hayes: You think Shane Hollander is going to break up with you? Hayes: Shane Hollander. Hayes: The Shane Hollander who learned Russian for you? Bood: The Shane Hollander who drives back and forth from Montreal any chance he gets to see you? Barrett: The Shane Hollander who started a charity with you and named it after your mother? Bood: The Shane Hollander who just generally puts up with you and seems mostly happy about it? Ilya: It does boggle the mind. Ilya: But yes, I’m almost certain of it.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,920
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #80492396
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Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov Break the Internet by UglyGreenJacket
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-22
[An image of this year’s NHL East All-Star team, including Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, Wyatt Hayes, Troy Barrett, Carter Vaughn, and Scott Hunter, all smiling after winning this year’s NHL All-Star Game in Las Vegas] @NHLInsider There’s rumor going around that Page Six has evidence from last weekend’s All-Star Game that two NHL players are romantically linked. Checking my sources to see what I can find out. Will update later. This could have huge implications if true. Posted on February 12 2:30 pm *** @ssmith20 wut? @rozanoff no way fuck boy rozanov is involved in this. my money’s on barrett and hollander. @luverofhockey holy shit. if this is true, it’s going to be insane @hattrickzzzz @luverofhockey would it really be all that surprising? Hockey is one of the most homoerotic sports in existence. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if they had whole team orgies after every game. @shanehollanderswife there’s no way that reddit post about Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov being a couple is correct, right? ….right?
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,297
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #80066761
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[Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander sit on stools in the Centaurs’ locker room. They are wearing each other’s jerseys, and Ilya has a large pink heart painted on his left cheek. Shane has a smattering of silver sparkly heart freckles across his nose.]
Harris: (off camera) Okay, boys. As the Centaurs’ resident power couple, we’re going to ask you twenty couples questions in honor of our Valentine’s Day game coming up!
Ilya: Oh, good. Shane loves questions. He has a million for every possible situation. Are you sure you don’t want him to lead the interview?
Shane: Fuck you, Rozanov.
Harris: Glad we got that out of the way early.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,595
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #79622231
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It's Always Been About You by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-10
Hayden always wondered why Shane was so secretive about his "Boston Lily", but he didn't think much of it. Until Scott Hunter came out. Now, he's beginning to wonder if there's a less heterosexual explanation for his secrecy.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,523
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79266831
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Ilya Rozanov, get loved.
- Part 1 of Duty of Care
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 145,224
- Chapters:
- 25/25
- Files:
- 4 versions
- AO3:
- #77087096
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a collection of unrelated short fics, 1k words or less!
1. Harris picks Troy's outfit for the Ottawa pride parade (rated E)
2. Ilya wakes up crying and Shane comforts him (rated E)
3. Harris gets competitive at bar trivia (rated T)
4. Luca Haas sees *the* FanMail video and has a minor breakdown, but gets unexpected emotional support (rated G)
5. Rose Landry visits the cottage, they get drunk and tease Shane (rated E, but no on-page sex, just references to it)
6. Ficlet prompt: Shane/Ilya + skinny dipping (rated M)
7. Ficlet prompt: Troy/Harris + picnic (rated G)
8. Ficlet prompt: Shane/Ilya + argument with a family member ft. Hollanov kids (rated G)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,255
- Chapters:
- 8/?
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #67779426
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"What happened?" "I missed the edge of the table." Shane curled inward a little more, tense. "No shit," Ilya said, unimpressed. "How did Montreal's number one scorer miss this big table?" Now Shane cracked an eye at him. "Fuck off, Rozanov." "Shane." He sighed. "I can't really see right now." Shane gets a migraine at the cottage. Ilya learns how to help. Shane returned to wakefulness slowly in the late afternoon sun, lake water long since having evaporated from his swim trunks as he napped in the lounge chair. Content to remain in the blurry, quiet space between sleep and alertness, he kept his eyes closed and just breathed. His towel was soft and sun-warmed where he had tossed it over his bare chest and arms for sun protection before sliding on his sunglasses and conking out. Romping and splashing in the lake with Ilya like Hayden's twin children had tired them both out. He shifted slightly, wincing at the stiff pull of his neck after sleeping too long in the outdoor chair and cracked one eye open. His boyfriend was sprawled, loose-limbed, in the chair beside Shane's, but turned the wrong way around. Ilya lay on his stomach, head pillowed on his towel at the foot of the long chair, his strong back curving appealingly over the wooden slats. One arm was bent around his head, flattening half of Ilya's fluffy wet-then-dried curls. The other was draped across the distance between their chairs, his big hand resting warm and possessive on Shane's ankle. Shane huffed lightly, amused. He pried the other eye open and rolled his head to the left to admire the expanse of warm, golden skin as Ilya basked in the warmth of the afternoon. (He was only a man, after all.) Then, because he was also a little shit sometimes (and he wanted to see Ilya's eyes when he woke up), he flexed one leg and wiggled the ankle that Ilya's fingers loosely cradled, jostling him. "Ilya. You're going to burn." "Nyet," his boyfriend replied, not opening his eyes. He squeezed once, tightly, thumb rolling over the knobby bone of Shane's ankle. "You need sunscreen. Or a shirt," Shane said, wobbling his ankle again. This time, Ilya inhaled deeply with annoyance and aimed a sleepy, slitted glare at Shane. Shane couldn't help but smile at him. "You just want me covered because I am too beautiful to look at," Ilya lamented, releasing Shane's ankle and rolling dramatically to his side. "Is ok, Hollander. Many people tell me this." Shane blinked a few times to try and clear away the blurriness of sleep. He really shouldn't have allowed himself to nap - he always feels like he woke up in another dimension. Ilya swung his feet to the ground and stood, stretching until his spine popped. "I'm hungry. Ready to go in?" Shane nodded, regretting that he hadn't brought a water bottle out to the chairs. His mouth felt cottony. "Yeah. Let's go." He toed on his slides and trailed behind Ilya up the stairs to the cottage, still feeling blurry around the edges, but content with the prospect of the evening ahead. They had plenty of easy options for dinner, and they were slowly working through the catalog of terrible action movies on Netflix. Though Ilya had asked on the way to the cottage, eyes sharp and laughing, if their plan was really to relax, they had been taking the chance to just spend time in each other's presence without rushing. Now, Shane knew that Ilya got short-tempered and nonverbal if he didn't have coffee within 30 minutes of waking, and Ilya had learned that Shane had a visceral, full-body reaction to stepping in a puddle on the bathroom floor if Ilya forgot to use a shower mat. They were learning each others' orbits. Ilya opened the back door and stepped aside, brushing a hand lightly on Shane's lower back as he stepped in. "Sandwiches ok? I will shower, then we eat?" "Sure," Shane said. "I got the pickles you like. I'll start getting things out in a minute. He slipped off his dark glasses and rubbed his eyes roughly, internally cursing the sun's afterimage still lingering in his vision. "I just need to grab some water." Ilya nodded, eyes lingering briefly as Shane made his way around the kitchen to grab a glass, hand trailing on the island countertop. "You ok?" "What? Yeah, fine. Just didn't drink enough today, I guess." Shane selected a glass and turned on the tap, watching the water slowly fill. It really was good water. Ilya padded over behind him to press a smacking kiss to the back of Shane's bare shoulder, squeezing his hip. "You sit, I will be gourmet sandwich chef after I shower." Shane laughed. "Okay." He turned and kissed Ilya back, reveling in the ease which has come with familiarity and time. "Go shower." Ilya smacked him lightly on the ass, eyes fond and warm and maybe anticipating what would likely happen when they got bored of the movie (Shane would never admit that watching a movie on the couch with Ilya in his soft sweatpants and long sleeves made him unspeakably handsy.) Grabbing his towel, he headed for the shower. Shane made his way down to the living room and dropped onto the couch with a sigh, water still in his hand. He tipped his head back until it rested on the cushion. He also should shower the lake water off, but he couldn't quite blink the sun spots from his eyes from their long afternoon outside. And he really needed to hydrate. He raised the glass to his lips and drained half of it, eyes still squeezed shut, and focused on breathing slowly to abate the vague nausea that was rising. Shane heard the shower turn off in the master bathroom. He needed to get moving before Ilya came out and saw him sitting in the living room with the lights off like a lunatic. He opened his bleary eyes and leaned forward to place the glass on the coffee table so that he could make his way to the shower, starting to lever to his feet when— CRASH. Shane flinched and leapt to his feet, startled by the noise of his glass shattering on the floor. Shit. Cold water splashed onto his bare feet and shins, but his vision was still weird, hazy around the edges and a little wavy like sun on concrete in the summer and where was the edge of the coffee table and— The sound of bare footsteps in the hall, quick. "—what—Shane—fuck—no, do not move—"
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,672
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78312276
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Ilya is giving Cliff a ride to the club. Should be fine right until an overly horny Shane Hollander starts texting his husband. But Ilya can’t be on his phone and drive that would be dangerous. So he has his best friend Cliff Marlow answer for him. It gets steamy.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,513
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78026146
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Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov had been household names for years, yet the media still treated them like gladiators thrown into an arena for public entertainment. Hollywood had never manufactured a rivalry this blatant before—and of course they were the guinea pigs. The blueprint. The cautionary tale in the making. The money was obscene. The roles were constant. And the studios? They were practically frothing at the mouth. If Shane landed a blockbuster, Ilya was mysteriously cast in a competing one within days. Rival studios loved the drama, the headlines, the built‑in war. And if Ilya was favored to win at the box office against Shane, well then, who was Ilya to complain about it? Boring Canadian: Got to go BC: Text you later? Ilya: Okay Ilya: Don’t get hard thinking of me blowing you BC: Fuck you! Ilya: You’re hard, aren’t you? BC: … Ilya: My good little slut BC: TURNING OFF MY PHONE NOW!!!!!!!! ---- Or Shane and Ilya have a complicated work-life relationship, and it becomes so much more than either of them could have ever imagined.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 83,427
- Chapters:
- 30/30
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76304986
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Fluffy Surprise by Ciara_Westford
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-16
Ilya stepped over the bags on the floor, shoes still on his feet and held the pink thing to Shane's face. “Look!” Before Shane could do anything a quiet “Meow” came from the fabric bundle and Ilya squealed in delight. “Did your hat just meow?” Shane asked, completely bewildered. Ilya snorted loudly. “Is not hat. Look! It's a kitty.” He held the bundle even closer and Shane spotted two black pointed ears and a tiny pink nose. Or: How Ilya and Shane became cat parents
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,796
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77775741
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And I could take another hit for you by Elexica
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-11
Ilya plays hurt on the ice again. Shane tries to make him feel better.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,972
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77525016
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Solnyshko by shoulderbone (lavenderforluck)
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-11
They linger in the last dregs of light reflecting off the lake. Shane takes Ilya’s hands, placing them over his own cheeks, and quietly asks Ilya to take him apart. Or: seventy-two hours at the cottage that summer.
- Part 1 of Seventy-Two Hours
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,298
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77511616
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all I can breathe is your life by tangledsynapse
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-01-10
“Shane takes a deep breath and flexes his fingers in the fabric of the hoodie as he tries to find the words, tries to be brave to ask for what he wants. He’s pretty sure Ilya would try to give him the world, would give him the last breath out of his lungs if he asked. And honestly? He’s not sure whether that makes this any easier. He’s used to struggling in silence—they both are—and he’s had to learn how to ask, how to make his wants and needs known. And, today, what Shane wants is to be taken out of his head for a little bit.” Shane’s been having a stressful season. Ilya knows just how to get Shane feeling better.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,167
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77458601
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It started with an email from the team. To: #Centaurs_Roster From: Travel Subject: Mentors trip Ilya deleted it unread and put it out of his mind.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,150
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77295321
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After a bad hit, Ilya insists he’s fine. After all, he's survived way worse than a concussion. Shane doesn’t believe him—and shows up anyway. Shane was wedged into the middle of the couch, his dad to his left, his mom’s feet tucked beneath her on his right. The Raiders game hummed through the living room, the volume a notch too loud, the voices of the commentators confident in that polished, charismatic way. His mom reacted a half-second ahead of the play like she always did, his dad chiming in here and there. Shane nodded when he was supposed to, smiled when they did, and kept his hands loose in his lap so no one would notice how tightly his fingers wanted to curl as he watched Ilya glide across the ice—fierce, effortless, commanding attention every time he came into frame. Midway through the second period, the Raiders finally managed to set something up in Ottawa’s zone. The puck moved back to the point, a quick pass across the blue line before a shot was fired through traffic. The shot was low and messy, the kind meant to create chaos more than score outright. The Ottawa goalie dropped into a butterfly and kicked the puck away with his pad, sending the rebound skidding into the crease. Ilya was already there, parked in front of the net, jostling for position with a defenseman, his back half-turned. The rebound hit him before he even had time to react—clipping the inside edge of his skate and redirecting just enough to slip past the goalie’s outstretched leg and dribble over the line. For a beat, the arena and everyone inside of it seemed confused. Then the horn went off, the goal light flashing as the puck settled in the back of the net. Shane watched Ilya turn in a slow, bewildered circle, stick lifted like he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just done. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Shane’s dad groaned, already dropping his head back against the couch. “That’s not even skill. That’s just dumb luck.” His mom laughed, sharp and pleased. “Luck still counts,” she said. “You don’t get those goals unless you’re in the right place. Say what you will, but Rozanov is good at that. He’s always driving the net and causing chaos.” Shane nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “Yeah,” he said. “An ugly goal’s still a goal.” Shane kept his eyes fixed on the screen, but inside he was grinning. He could already picture it later—his phone propped up against the lamp on his bedside table, Ilya’s face filling the screen, hair still damp from his shower and pretending like the whole thing had been deliberate. He’d talk about the importance of positioning, about instincts, about reading the play, like the puck hadn’t bounced off his skate while he wasn’t even looking. Shane imagined himself leaning back on his bed, watching Ilya sell it with that infuriatingly smug face, the pause before the shrug, the way his mouth would twitch like he was daring Shane to call him on it. Obviously I meant to do that, Hollander, he’d say, completely serious. Shane would laugh, remind him of the replay, maybe even send him a link to the video. Ilya would protest, offended on principle, but secretly pleased. Shane felt the grin settle deeper in his chest, a quiet, private thing. He stayed still on the couch, expression carefully mild, already looking forward to later—when the game would be over, when the call would connect, when it would be just the two of them on opposite ends of the screen. It had been longer than he liked since the last time Shane had seen Ilya in person. A road trip that stretched on and on, cities blurring together, flights and back-to-backs stealing whatever gaps they might have had. Over a month now, which felt ridiculous to miss someone this much when they talked almost every day, but the distance had a way of changing the math. Calls flattened things. Screens cut Ilya down to the shoulders and face Shane already knew by heart. Their last time together had been quick, almost stolen. A night squeezed in between travel days, Ilya’s suitcase half-unpacked on the floor, the room smelling faintly of hotel soap and the cigarette Ilya swore would be his last. They’d ordered takeout, eaten it out of the containers, knees knocking under the sheets. Shane remembered the weight of Ilya’s arm slung over his shoulders later, the solid, anchoring heat of his bare skin, the way Ilya had gone quiet in that rare, unguarded way that meant he was tired enough to stop performing. Shane and Ilya had talked about getting together when Ilya passed through Ottawa—had lingered on the idea longer than either of them admitted out loud. Shane had stared at the map on his phone, thumb hovering, quietly calculating the drive. Two hours. Maybe a little more with traffic. Doable. Tempting. He’d been the one to shut it down. “Don’t be stupid,” Shane had said, fond but firm, even as part of him didn’t want to let it go. “I’ve got an early flight the next day out of Montreal. We’d barely get any time.” It had sounded practical. Responsible. Like the right call. He’d memorized that last night instead, like he’d known this stretch was coming—how Ilya fit against him, how steady he felt when he finally let himself rest. He’d stood in the doorway the next morning and watched Ilya pack with methodical care, all focus and muscle memory, like leaving was just another drill to get through. … On the ice, the noise blurred. Ilya’s ears rang in a low, persistent hum that followed him as he skated back into position. He shook his head once, subtle. The goal still echoed in the arena, teammates tapped his helmet. He grinned widely when he was supposed to, lifted a hand to the crowd that booed him, played the part. All he could think about was the shit Shane was going to give him later. The image came uninvited: Shane’s mouth tilting up, eyes bright with it, already lining up the jokes. Great move, he’d say. Really subtle. Ilya huffed out a breath through his nose and forced his focus back to the red line, the faceoff dot, the geometry of the ice. Thinking about Shane during a game was always a mistake.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,361
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77279641
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at the lonely end of the rink, you and me by vahosi
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
2026-01-06
The first time Ilya coughed up a flower, he was kneeling over a toilet in the penthouse of the Fontainebleau Las Vegas, for entirely the wrong fucking reason to be kneeling over a toilet in Vegas. There was no point in trying to pretend it wasn’t happening. He wasn’t an idiot. Hadn’t he seen his own mother waste away, coughing up clumps of clean white chamomile stained shocking scarlet? Hadn’t he known, on some level, that he was fated to follow in her footsteps one day, to throw his entire heart and soul into loving a person who would never — could never — love him back? No, Ilya knew what this was. He also knew he’d never set foot on the ice again if anyone found out. Blindly, he reached for the toilet paper, wiped his mouth, and then flushed the whole thing. Petals, too. He didn’t want to know what kind they were. Pizdets. It should’ve been a fucking maple leaf. ❁ ❆ ❁ ❆ ❁ the Hanahaki AU, in which Ilya loves Shane Hollander’s stupid face so much it makes him sick (literally)
- Part 1 of v’s hollanov AUs ❆
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 13,216
- Chapters:
- 10/10
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76559901
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five times Ilya initiates on ice PDA and the one time Shane does
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,839
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77079811
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Everything is fine. They’re playing a normal game against Montreal. Shane is trying his best and the Centaurs are winning, despite Montreal‘s best effort. One dirty hit, one dirty move. Sends Shane spiraling but not in the way you think.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,115
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77042916
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