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  1. If it’s one thing Zane Boodram was sure about himself, it’s that he was prideful. Annoyingly so to his dissenters and remarkably so to his supporters. Pride was engrained into him as a small child, growing up in the streets of Trinidad. It’s how it pushed him to climb the largest mango tree to get the big mango at the top, it’s how he dominated the street matches of football and cricket, it’s how he would walk with stride when any adult yelled his name whether it was out of correction or praise. Pride led him to hockey.

    Pride is also the reason he was losing his mind when Ilya’s appearances become less notable and his mood more irritable. Pride was also the reason he noticed that when the Voyageurs were in town and a BBQ aligned with it, Shane wasn’t eating the food he cooked anymore. It was driving him crazy.

    or
    Zane Boodram notices that his friends are going through things - his pride pushes him to fix it.

    Inspired by: Lean on Me by Bill Withers and Count on Me by Whitney Houston and Cece Winans from the Waiting to Exhale Soundtrack.

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  2. Shane has married Ilya, a known chaos monster, with a penchant for fast cars and designer clothes. Shane has spent his life making sure he was financially responsible. Now it's time to merge these two different approaches to money management; It does not go the way Shane thinks it will.

    They had been married for 32 days.

    And now was the big conversation: estate planning, their assets, and what combining them would look like.

    Shane had found a financial planner. Had set the appointment.

    He was, after all, Shane Hollander; he had approached his financial future with all of the key characteristics of a Hollander. His mom had guided his career, negotiating sizable contracts for him, and his father worked for the Treasury. It was in his blood.

    Ilya, meanwhile, had approached today's meeting with the same organizational energy he brought to most things in his life, except hockey: confident, yet chaotic, and generally not stressed out about whether things would work out in his favor.

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  3. ‘What did they say when you told them I was joining the team?’ A slow grin spreads across Ilya’s face. ‘What did you do?’ Shane asks, dread seeping into his expression. ‘Nothing.’ Ilya tells him innocently. ‘…. You told them. Right?’ ‘I did not.’ ‘Ilya!’ Shane gasps. ‘I start training tomorrow!’ *** The Centaurs meet their new player

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  4. Got here first! by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • G
    • ✓

    2026-05-30

    The front door of the cottage banged open and Ilya and Shane both tumbled out, shoving at each other and darting for the car.

    “I told, I carry groceries!” Ilya protests. “First is ‘no carry bags, Ilya’, ‘how’s your ribs, Ilya’, but I am fine. Hollander. Hollander!”

    “You don’t even know where the groceries go, there’s no reason for both of us- My parents can carry their own stuff! Rozanov!”

    Ilya’s palms slapped onto Yuna’s car door, his breathing slightly elevated, cheeks flushed and a wide boyish grin on his face. “Got here first!”

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  5. A small YouTube channel has a secret.

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  6. A storm strands Yuna Hollander in Boston with no flights, no taxis, and no hotel rooms. Her unexpected rescuer? Shane Hollander’s biggest rival, Ilya Rozanov. But one night in Ilya’s apartment reveals hockey’s greatest secret: the NHL’s fiercest enemies have been secretly, hopelessly in love for ten years.

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  7. forgive me my muzzle by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • G
    • ✓

    2026-05-28

    "I think,” Scott decides on, “I’ve at least proven I’ve got some surprises up my sleeve.”

    A startled laugh bursts from Rozanov’s chest. “Yes. Yes, you have done that. I did not think you had it in you.” Before Scott can figure out if he should be insulted, Rozanov continues around his next puff of his cigarette, “Did not think anyone did. Good for you.”

    “Thanks.”

    Rozanov nods before frowning, like he still hasn’t said what he wants to say, but Scott’s content. What else is there for him to say?

    "I..."

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  8. It takes some time for Shane to notice. With three kids, they are busy, so it’s not surprising when Shane doesn’t observe at first. Shane and Ilya are both forty-five years old, and they have such full lives that sometimes time feels like a cruel joke. They’re busy, and always on the go, and blindingly happy. Shane tells himself this is why it takes him so long to realize. That lately, Ilya’s gone quieter during their evening nighttime routine before bed. When they shower and brush their teeth, Shane meticulously flossing between each molar while Ilya sort of haphazardly takes care of his own business, that Ilya doesn’t joke or laugh as much as usual. When they shower, he lets Shane get out first every time, and spends a little extra moment to himself. That he doesn’t lean in to let Shane card his hands through his hair anymore, and he used to love the feeling of that. -- or, a study of aging beside the person you love, via hollanov--

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  9. When the Ottawa Centaurs announce a mysterious new player signing, hockey Twitter turns into a full-scale detective convention. Fans expect trade rumours, chaos, and maybe Scott Hunter. What they don’t expect is Ilya Rozanov accidentally soft-launching his husband in real time. As hints pile up, the internet slowly realizes two things: Shane Hollander is gay, Ilya is catastrophically bisexual, and the NHL’s biggest rivals have secretly been in love for over a decade. Unfortunately for them, their teammates, ex-girlfriend, and social media manager are absolutely no help keeping the secret.

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  10. “Shane.. sometimes I get this weird feeling that you have this whole other life that no one knows anything about."

    Why did Shane stop breathing and freeze the moment he said that?

    He decided to push just a little. “So it’s not just Boston Lily.” Whom he wasn’t seeing in Boston anymore, but was still talking to, actually now more than ever. “You’ve got other stuff going on that you don’t tell me about.”

    “Do you tell me everything?”

    “Just about!” Hayden replied in frustration. “But at this point, bud, if you told me you had a secret family somewhere or something, I’d be like… yeah, that tracks.”

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  11.  

    @Rozanov81:

    Ok internet, I have announcement.

    I am getting married in 2 weeks.

    So we are going to play a game, ok? I give you one clue every day, we will see if you can guess

    #SecretRelationship #ILoveYouJane

    -----
    With each new daily clue, the Hollanov fans only get louder. Each clue lining up perfectly with a certain Canadian hockey player.

    However, they still cannot convince anyone. If anything, their overflow of online excitement might make it seem less believable.

    Ilya notices the plight of these modern Casandras of the internet age and, of course, decides to make it worse.

    -----
    Told through snapshots from twitter, Instagram, the Ottawa WAGs group chat and Ilya’s journey into the depths of Reddit to find r/HollanovHQ

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  12. Built for Three by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • G
    • ?
    • ✓

    2026-05-25

    After a difficult car-shopping trip turns emotional, Shane accidentally reveals to Ilya that he’s pregnant. The dealership is bright in a way that feels artificial—too much glass, too much shine. Every surface gleams like it’s trying to convince you of something. New beginnings, maybe. Or expensive mistakes. Ilya has been in heaven since they walked in. He moves through the showroom like he belongs there, hands in his pockets, eyes lighting up every time a low-profile sports car comes into view. Red, silver, black—anything with sharp angles and the promise of speed pulls him in like gravity. “That one,” he says for the third time, pointing at a low, sleek sports car in a violent red. “No, wait—that one. Shane, look at the curves on it.” Shane trails behind, slower, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. He stops beside a dark gray SUV, running his fingers along the door absentmindedly. It’s not flashy. It’s solid. Dependable. The kind of car you don’t have to think too hard about. “I’m looking,” Shane replies, but his eyes never leave the SUV. Ilya notices—and frowns. “You didn’t even turn around.” “I saw it earlier,” Shane says. “It’s… small.” “That’s the point.” Shane exhales through his nose. “It’s impractical.” Ilya laughs, bright and easy. “You keep saying that word like it’s an insult.” “It is,” Shane mutters. They’ve been doing this dance since they walked in. Ilya drifting toward cars that look like they were built to be admired. Shane gravitating toward vehicles with wide back seats, reinforced frames, high safety ratings. Every time Shane pauses, Ilya inevitably comments. “That thing’s massive.” “That looks like a dad car.” “God, Shane, it’s ugly.” At first, Shane just rolls his eyes. Then he stops responding altogether. The salesman eventually clocks the dynamic and wisely keeps his distance. Ilya, oblivious, finally settles on a silver sports coupe parked dead center under bright lights. He circles it slowly, reverently. “This,” he declares, “is art.” Shane stands several feet away, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His jaw is set, shoulders stiff. “It’s a death trap,” Shane says. Ilya waves a hand. “Statistically, that’s not true.” “Statistically,” Shane shoots back, “you drive like an idiot.” That earns him a grin. “You love it.” “I tolerate it.” “Same thing.” Shane doesn’t smile. When the salesman offers a test drive, Ilya doesn’t hesitate. Shane hesitates—but he gets into the passenger seat anyway. The interior is sleek and narrow. Everything feels close. Tight. The door shuts with a solid click that echoes louder than Shane expects. Ilya adjusts the seat, clearly pleased. “Listen to that engine,” he says as they pull out. “She’s perfect.” Shane stares straight ahead from the passenger seat. “She’s a death trap.” “Don’t be dramatic.” Ilya pulls out smoothly, confidence effortless. “You just don’t appreciate good design.” Shane exhales sharply. “I appreciate not dying.” They drive for a few minutes in tense silence. The car accelerates smoothly, hugging the road. Ilya is relaxed, one hand on the wheel, humming softly. “This is so much better than those ugly tanks you were eyeing,” Ilya says casually. “I mean, what were you planning to haul? Furniture?” Something in Shane snaps—not all at once, but enough. “Can you stop?” Shane’s voice rises suddenly, sharp and raw, cutting through the car like a slap. “For once, can you just stop acting like everything I want is stupid?” Ilya startles, foot easing off the gas. “What?” “Stop making fun of it,” Shane says, breath uneven. “Every time I l look at something I actually like, you tear it apart.” “Shane—”

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  13. One day the drawers in Shane's kitchen turned on him. One by one they all turned squeaky and slow. And of course, the fucking repair guy is on vacation for the next week and a half. or. Overstimulated Shane and Softy Sweety Ilya. Shane stood at the stove stirring oatmeal with slow, methodical motions while Ilya leaned against the island in a pair of sweatpants that should have been retired years ago. “Too many blueberries, relax.” Shane said without looking up. “There is no such thing.” “There absolutely is when you are feeding all of them to the dog.” Anya looked up immediately at the sound of her title, enormous brown eyes alert and hopeful. The tiny girl sat perfectly between Ilya’s feet, tail brushing rapidly against the hardwood. “She is starving. my poor baby” Ilya informed him solemnly. “She ate breakfast already.” “She is growing girl.” “She’s six.” “Still growing, where you done growing at six? Did not think so.” Shane snorted quietly. Ilya grinned at the sound. It had been almost two months since they’d gotten married and somehow mornings still felt strange in the best possible way. Domesticity had settled over their lives slowly. It was coffee mugs left beside the sink. Grocery lists. Arguing over laundry settings until Shane pouted and Ilya caved. Falling asleep together every night without worrying who might find out. It was oatmeal on a Tuesday morning. Shane liked routines. He liked knowing what came next. His therapist called it grounding structure. Shane called it not feeling insane all the time. Ilya understood that now in a way he hadn’t ten years ago. “Did you answer Hayden?” Shane asked. “Mhm.” “What did he say about dinner Friday?” “He says if we make quinoa again he is not coming.” “That was one time.” “And it was awful the one time.” “You had three servings.” “Because I was hungry, not because quinoa deserves to be in my mouth, unlike other things.” Shane rolled his eyes. Anya huffed dramatically when no more blueberries appeared. “Oh, now she suffers.” Ilya murmured sympathetically, crouching to scratch behind her ears. “Cruel father deprives tiny princess.” “She’s getting to big.” “She is sturdy.” “She’s twelve pounds.” “Is all muscle. Isn't it малышка.” The oatmeal thickened enough for Shane’s liking. He turned the burner down and reached automatically toward the silverware drawer. The moment he pulled it open, the drawer let out a violent high-pitched shriek. It was sharp and metallic and unbearably loud. The sound ripped through the kitchen. Shane screamed. A full, horrified scream tore out of him as his entire body seized. It was like being burned. If had heard this in public he might have grimaced and bit into his lip way too hard, but he was at home. He could do this. The drawer slammed shut hard enough to rattle the cabinets. “Oh, fuck.” Ilya blurted. Shane had already stumbled backward, hands flying over his ears. His breathing turned ragged instantly, face drained white beneath the freckles scattered across his nose. “Shanya—” “Nope.” His voice cracked harshly. “Nope nope nope.”

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  14. The advert he’d seen online the month before had seemed too good to be true; between his parents and his teammates asking when he’d settle down, Shane was tired. Tired of the constant match making, even as well intended as it was and tired of feeling like even this private aspect of his life was something performative; like there was nothing to his existence that was just for him.

    He’d wanted an easy out, and Google had had the answers.

    Utmost discretion. Blonde. Green eyes. Passable English.

    After hours of research vetting the agency he’d selected, Shane had wired over the funds and crossed his fingers before immediately stress cleaning his already pristine house.

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  15. People seemed to assume Shane's pregnant stomach was free real estate. Public property. Free to touch and judge. Good thing he had a very understanding husband he could pour his heart to. Featuring Anya who already loves their unborn baby.

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  16. Things We Fought For by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • G
    • ✓

    2026-05-23

    Short story of Shane and Ilya's first ultrasound

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  17. Kip and Ilya find themselves reminiscing about the past and future at the 2026 MHL Awards.

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  18. LILLIAN: Today we have brought you in to talk about our rookies, or the Centaur Foals as we’re calling them.

    ILYA: Foals?

    BOYLE: … the name doesn’t really strike fear into the heart of our enemies.

    BARRETT: Oh that’s cute, did Harris come up with that? How many meetings did that take?

    LILLIAN: Each of you have been paired up with a different rookie to talk about.

    or, the social media marketing starts early. to hype up the new rookies (and the old ones) the centaurs start running their PR campaign introducing the new talent that will one day define the centaurs

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  19. “Seriously, dude,” Hayden snorts, dragging Shane away from the hockey books he’d been looking at. “You need to find a new topic.” “But I like those.” Shane replies with a small pout, gazing back at the shelf he’s getting further away from. “I know you do. But you’re supposed to challenge yourself!” Hayden waves a hand to gesture across the large bookstore they’re in, “Find something new!” Shane glares at Hayden before shifting his focus to the various signs displaying different genres. “Fine. I’ll find something not hockey related.” OR: Shane finds a new passion.

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  20. Time for the highlight of the night.

    As Boston’s General Manager, Barry had plenty of professional goals for his evening at the NHL awards. His singular personal goal, however, was to see Coach Theriault pop a fucking blood vessel.

    He and LeClaire had already succeeded in trapping Theriault in conversation when Barry heard a very familiar Russian accent from over by the bar.

    Well, a good manager knows how to delegate.

    Barry waved Rozanov over to join them. Yuna Hollander noticed and stuck close to the kid’s side, her sharp gaze assessing as she too moved to join the conversation. Even better. Even fucking better.

    Beside him, Theriault’s face had already turned a dangerous shade of red.

    ----
    Ilya Rozanov, Yuna Hollander and Coach Theriault walk into a bar...

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