1 – 16 of 16 Works in Neurodivergent Shane Hollander
- Neurodivergent Shane Hollander ×
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After becoming a Boston Raider, Shane was still bracing, waiting for something to go wrong.
Eventually, however, he realizes he doesn’t have to.
Ilya has some feelings about it too.- Part 2 of Boston AU
- Part 2 of My Autistic Shane Hollander Writings
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 63,186
- Chapters:
- 31/31
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79941521
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Shane had stumbled onto this corner of Archive of Our Own entirely by accident—or at least, that’s the lie he was going to tell his agent, his teammates, and God until his dying day.
—or—
When Dallas Kent creates a massive PR disaster, rivals Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov are handed a corporate ultimatum: fake date each other for the cameras, or sit out a season-long suspension. Now trapped in this shitty situation, they have to map out a public "romance strategy," they have a strict no-touching rule behind closed doors. Too bad Shane is currently treating AO3 tags like a hockey drill, and Ilya is losing his mind.
( There are interactive elements within the story! Look out for messages between characters and frames containing information. Just tap or hover on them to see the text messages! and other things just like my other story)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 41,496
- Chapters:
- 9/9
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #85688586
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Sensory Overload by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
2026-04-18
Shane has always just dealt with it —
the tension, the discomfort, the things that don’t quite feel right.When finally, Ilya starts to notice the pattern.
It just takes him a while to realise it all comes back to something as simple as a haircut.
or
My theory as to why Shane grows his hair out for The Long Game
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 34,102
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #81301831
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“Rozanov introduces himself to the rest of his family, and Hayden can tell that they’re all immediately charmed by his blue eyes and foreign accent. He feels like he’s going crazy. Is he the only one who can see past this guy’s slimy schtick? There’s only one explanation. Shane has found some sort of magical Russian trickster god for a boyfriend and has fallen under his evil spell. Hayden has to get Shane to safety immediately.” It’s graduation, and Hayden Pike is on top of the world. He gets to spend his day with his favorite people—his wife and two daughters, and his best friend Shane. His best friend Shane, who forgot to tell Hayden about his boyfriend.
- Part 7 of we’ve got bad things to do
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,696
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #81928861
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like you’re the only one in the room by fonduebroski314 (anon_carrots)
Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-03-14
Ilya convinces Shane to go to the club with him. While wearing a plug. This goes about how you’d expect.
- Part 6 of we’ve got bad things to do
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,726
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #81166176
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Born as the second son of a high-ranking officer in the Russian mob, Ilya Rozanov is sent to head the Bratva’s overseas branch in Canada. One day, his father calls with an assignment: shut down their rival operation in Ottawa, a money-laundering front backed by the Japanese Yakuza. He’s given one name to go off of: Hollander. Shane Hollander is a graduate student in an MD program specializing in sports medicine. There’s nothing particularly interesting about him, other than the fact that his mother, Yuna Hollander, is the CEO of an arts charity—and the daughter of the chairman of the second- largest yakuza family in Japan. Unfortunately for Shane, Ilya gets the wrong Hollander.
- Part 1 of we’ve got bad things to do
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 16,051
- Chapters:
- 3/3
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78570511
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Built For The Ice, Not The Lights by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-20
His heartbeat was too fast. His chest felt tight. The microphone foam brushed his knuckles and the texture was suddenly unbearable, coarse, wrong. Too loud. Too bright. Too close. Too much. He needed space. or After an intense game and overwhelming post-game media scrum, Shane hits sensory overload and has a meltdown. Ilya finds him hiding away and stays, grounding him through it and reminding him he doesn’t have to handle everything alone. The worst part wasn’t the game. Shane could handle the game. The game had rules. It had structure. It had the clean geometry of the rink, the crisp bite of steel on ice, the predictable rotation of shifts. Even when it was chaotic, it was a chaos he understood. Pucks moved in patterns. Bodies angled in lines. Systems nested inside systems. Shane had been mapping them in his head since he was a kid. Media Day did not have rules. Or rather, it had too many. “Just be yourself,” the PR woman had said with a bright smile that hurt to look at. “Relax. Smile. Keep your answers light.” Be yourself. Relax. Light. The hallway outside the locker room was already too loud. Reporters clustered like birds, their voices overlapping in sharp bursts. The lights from the camera rigs were brighter than usual, hot and white and relentless. Someone had turned the music up in the dressing room, bass thudding through his ribs. Shane stood at his stall, fingers curled around the edge of the wooden bench. He tried to catalog sensations the way his therapist had taught him. Too bright. Too loud. Fabric itchy at the back of his neck. The elastic in his compression shirt digging into his ribs. Sweat cooling too fast along his spine. He inhaled for four counts. Held for four. Exhaled for four. “Hollander!” someone called. “You ready?” He nodded automatically. He was always ready. Except today his skin felt like it was two sizes too small. The game itself was brutal. Fast, punishing, every hit to his body landing harder than it should. It was the kind of rivalry matchup that fed headlines for weeks. Shane scored once, assisted once, and blocked a shot that left a bruise blooming across his thigh. He played well. He played the way he always did, precise, relentless, methodical. But the crowd was louder than usual, a constant wall of noise pressing against his skull. Every whistle shrieked. Every horn drilled straight through him. When he sat on the bench, the smell of sweat and rubber and ammonia stung the back of his throat. By the third period, his thoughts had started to fragment. Too loud. Too bright. Too much. He missed a pass he would normally make without looking. His stick felt wrong in his hands, the tape uneven. His gloves were damp and suffocating. When the final buzzer sounded and the arena erupted, the sound didn’t feel like celebration. It felt like an explosion. They won. Someone clapped him on the helmet. “Media’s gonna love you tonight, Hollander.” The thought made his heart sink just a little. The hallway afterward was worse. The lights hadn’t dimmed. If anything, they were harsher. Microphones were thrust toward his face, logos flashing. Questions overlapped, voices stacking on top of each other until he couldn’t separate them. “Shane, talk about that second-period goal—” “Was that set play something you practiced—” “How does it feel to beat—” “How much pressure did you feel coming into—” Pressure. He felt pressure everywhere. In his ears. In his teeth. Behind his eyes. He tried to answer the first question. He opened his mouth. The words did not come out in the right order. “I—uh—the play, it was—” The lights flickered slightly as someone adjusted a camera, and the motion snagged his focus. “We practiced—no, I mean—” Someone laughed softly, not unkindly, but it sliced through him anyway. His heartbeat was too fast. His chest felt tight. The microphone foam brushed his knuckles and the texture was suddenly unbearable, coarse, wrong. Too loud. Too bright. Too close. Too much. He needed space.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,604
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79941316
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Shane was freaking out. Coming out to his team DID NOT go well. Instead of talking to his friends, or Rose, he calls Ilya.
And then he follows his advice.- Part 1 of Boston AU
- Part 1 of My Autistic Shane Hollander Writings
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,106
- Chapters:
- 3/3
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79320546
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Shane Hollander loved Ilya Rozanov, so much that it was going to kill him. He has to make the most of the time he has left after the Olympics, before the roots really take hold. AKA your basic Hanahaki Disease fic, full of pining, mild body horror, sex, and eventually some well-earned comfort.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 26,519
- Chapters:
- 4/4
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77220691
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I Would Give You the Moon (But This Will Do) by nomsy
Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
2026-01-10
“You sound very horny, but you don’t know what is your present,” Ilya points out. “Could be nice pillow. Maybe a houseplant.” “Rozanov.” Ilya laughs. “Is not a houseplant,” he says. --- The first time Ilya gives Shane a sex toy as a present.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,508
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77406251
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sweet potato casserole, halved by crackedskies (mirroredskies), mirroredskies
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-07
Shane had made so much progress in the past year and a half. Between therapy and playing for Ottawa, he was in a much better place mentally. And yet. Yet, today, he felt like his body wasn’t his own, like his bones weren’t fit together quite right, like his muscle and flesh and all the bits underneath were just wrong. “It’s the,” he started again, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the knowing look in Ilya’s. “It’s the idea of putting it on my plate, in my mouth. It’s not good… For me.” Shane and Ilya host Christmas dinner for the first time, and Shane struggles with the sweet potato casserole. Takes place following the events of The Long Game
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,652
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77242386
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mentioning svetlana at his cabin was worse than when ilya scored a goal against shane on his ice or ilya and shane are not normal about one another’s relationships and it shows
- Part 1 of and i could marry rose landry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,104
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77175066
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5 times Ilya Rozanov ruined his Shane Hollander’s “good boy” image & the 1 time he does it himself.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,997
- Chapters:
- 6/6
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #76450746
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it's more than a dream, it's more than desire by EmberGlows
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-01-01
“If you wanted to be more… dominant. With me. I would…” Shane was sure his flush was spreading away from his cheeks down his neck and towards his chest. “I would like that. I would really like that.” He was barely aware he’d screwed his eyes shut in flustered embarrassment until Ilya, after a moment of silence, murmured his first name again. Shane opened them, dragged his eyes towards the screen, and felt his mouth go dry. Ilya was rubbing his fingers thoughtfully against the seam of his plush lips. His eyes looked dark, lust obvious. “You like being submissive for me, Hollander?” Of fucking course Ilya would know that word. Ilya had another day left in Moscow. Shane couldn’t stop thinking about him. (Or, oddly enough, Wayne Gretzky.)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,311
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76880956
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Ilya has been thinking. Since Christmas has rolled around and no work on the ice has been done, Ilya and Shane have retired to the cottage, and Ilya has been thinking. Maybe it’s time to voice those thoughts. SET POST ‘THE LONG GAME’ The cottage houses both Shane and Ilya, and has been since the NHL sent their players home for the winter. Shane, who sits on the left side of the couch, is engrossed in his phone, meandering over Instagram. Ilya sits across from him, on the right, sprawled over the cushions with his eyes closed, pondering his thoughts. Shane sends Ilya a look or two from the side, watching over as Ilya’s eyes work under his lids, pouring over whatever it is he’s been thinking of the past week. Seems it has come to the surface, now. He shifts from his splay and sits up properly, opening his eyes. Shane looks away. Ilya stretches his arm out over the back of the couch, alike to a panther. He awkwardly taps his fingertips against the material, pursing his lips in thought. Shane, naturally, notices. Ilya’s knee is bouncing. The rhythm is disrupting. “What are you thinking about?” “Nothing,” Ilya is quick to defend. Shane tilts his head, defying Ilya’s answer. “Ilya.” “Nothing important,” he insists. “Just . . .” He inhales to blow up his cheeks then exhales to pop like a balloon. “You’re very . . .Neurotic, sometimes.” “Gee, thanks,” Shane scrubs his nails over the nape of his hair, now short, stubbly like he likes it. “No, is good.” Ilya amends, sitting up and leaning closer. “Is good to have attention to detail. Sometimes you pay too much attention.” Shane chews on the inside of his cheek, feeling the line of a scar marred across it with his tongue. “Where is this going?” “You feel a lot.” Ilya adds, tugging at one of his curls, trying to convey his point. “Yes, Ilya. I’m not a robot.” Ilya hums low in his throat, looking momentarily very confused and frustrated with where the conversation has gone. He reels Shane back in: “remember when you told me to get therapy?” “Christ,” Shane expels in unprepared shock, “how could I forget?” It’s how casually Ilya says it that catches him off guard. “I think you could benefit.” Shane nods. “I don’t disagree,” he shrugs, wanting to melt into the pillows. Sadly, long ago, they promised to be honest to one another. It is both a blessing and a curse. “I’ve been seeing Ottawa’s counsellor every once in a while.” “‘Once in a while’.” Ilya parrots, lifting his bouncing knee from the floor to tuck it beneath himself, crossing his legs. “I, uh . . .” He huffs, computing his next words. “Spit it out,” Shane urges softly, straightening his leg and taking his foot at a point to poke Ilya’s thigh. “You know how my mother had depression. I got depression,” Ilya articulates, inching closer to Shane on the couch, shimmying over. “Yes?” Shane says, gaze tender, shifting to meet Ilya in the middle. His hand finds itself snaking around Ilya’s thigh and gripping him close. Ilya’s arm comes around Shane’s shoulders around the backrest. “Your father . . .He has autism?” “You think . . .I have autism?” Shane’s eyebrows knit. “Wouldn’t be so far fetched.” Ilya shrugs. Shane is trying to be somewhat angry with this conclusion. Thinking, how dare Ilya diagnose him like this? Yet, all he can think is how sickeningly sweet being so intimately known by another for them to recognise something monumental like this is. His eyebrows stay knitted but he’s almost smiling. “When did you start thinking that?” “It wasn’t . . .How you say? Conscious? I just started noticing.” Ilya tries to explain, dropping his arm to rest across Shane’s waist, drawing patterns with his fingernail politely tracing into Shane’s side. “Things I didn’t pay attention to before. Your routines. Bad social skills.” Shane looks offended for a moment, before reality sets in and he wonders if Ilya really is so far off. “My social skills aren’t bad.” “Not . . .Bad. Fuck. I’m bad at this.” “No, no . . .” Shane comforts, trailing off. He can’t seem to get enough of the conversation. It’s almost amusing. “Keep going.” “Internet said about social cues. Sometimes you don’t get conversation. Like, jokes don’t land.” Ilya explains, swallowing anxiously, chuckling slightly for it to wear off. Shane nods at him. “And this might not mean anything, but you like being clean . . .The cottage is always clean. Your car; clean. Bedroom; clean. You shower every day. Wash your face morning and night.” “Yeah,” Shane agrees, “comforts me.” “Another thing,” Ilya is reminded by Shane’s word choice, “they said comfort. Like, your weird rituals. The way you make your breakfast then eat it. Your routines. Game day is different but same, you know? Always the same.” Shane has begun smiling, now. “My parents have always said the same thing—I’ve had the same routines since I was maybe a teenager.”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,109
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76692166
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Ilya rubbed his thumb across Shane’s hand. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I know it was not easy.” Shane scoffed, “No shit.” Ilya flicked at him playfully. “Shut up. I am trying to be comforting.” Shane peeked at Ilya from under his arm just to glare at him. Shane was glad Ilya wasn’t being careful with him or anything–that would have just made him feel worse. Ilya was just being Ilya, and Shane needed that. Or, Shane Hollander has OCD. It's frustrating, scary, and difficult, but Ilya is there for him every step of the way.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,504
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75484206