141 – 160 of 184 Works in Getting Together
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Ilya knots Shane’s mouth. It’s unbearably intimate. Also, Shane’s heat is approaching, and Ilya’s softest, comfiest clothes have gone missing. Shane doesn’t nest, but he may have built a large, incredibly comforting pseudo-nest in his bed. Made entirely of Ilya’s clothes. Ilya🤍: How is throat feeling today? 😈 Shane: 🖕
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,647
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77188781
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my heart has changed by amongtheshadows
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-06
“You don’t have to.” Ilya whispers. “What?” “Love me. You don’t have to. To say it, you can move on, you can find someone better, you don’t have to.” he says. “I am. . . not good.” he settles on after trying to find the right words in his mind. *Alternate ending to episode 4*
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,617
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77224741
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"You have to come to the locker room. Now."
Shane frowns. Holds up his notebook. "I'm busy."
"Forget that, man. It's all over the news. Ilya Rozanov has just defected from the Soviet Union."
Red Army superstar Ilya Rozanov defects from the Soviet Union. A Cold War-era hockey au
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 79,518
- Chapters:
- 6/6
- Files:
- 4 versions
- AO3:
- #75927071
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Shane’s heart drops into his stomach. “Ilya,” he breathes. His vision goes blurry, throat tight. He tries to swallow it down and focus, shove his swirling thoughts into a neat little box, but it’s impossible. He feels—he might throw up, actually. “Are you seriously telling me you tried to fucking kill yourself?” “Yes,” Ilya agrees blandly, “It did not work.” Ilya calls Shane from the hospital. Shane handles it very normally.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,118
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77098971
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Ilya falls in love with Shane’s hockey, first. Everything complicated comes later.
(A non-chronological timeline of Ilya Rozanov, falling in love with hockey and with life and with Shane Hollander.)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,551
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77022201
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for the hope of it all by CountingRaindrops
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-03
Wanting to get an escape from the ‘power couple’ taking the media by storm over the last couple of months Ilya decides to escape to a place where no one cares about Shane Hollander. Russia. Sure it wasn’t a place Ilya loved to be these days but he needed the break for a few days. Shane Hollander finally took the first step towards his own betterment— okay, Rose slowly walked him into that step but it counted— and now he felt more ready to try and go for what he really wanted. Only life had other plans for them both.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,829
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76974826
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Four times Ilya Rozanov denies himself Shane Hollander, and the one time he finally crumbles.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,275
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76988616
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“Yes. I went back to my dorm and answered your boring homework about L’Hopital’s Rule.” Ilya chirped, his usual smirk finding its way back to his face, and Shane couldn't help but reciprocate.
“Fuck off. They're not boring. It's to help you.”
“Yes, they helped me fall asleep fast, like a baby.” Ilya continued to tease him more, and Shane shoved him playfully.
Shane wanted to beat himself for being so easy against Ilya Rozanov. No matter how hard he tries to repress his feelings, just a smile from Ilya and he's already crumbling.
or a hollanov AU where shane becomes ilya's math tutor
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 12,175
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76999536
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know it's for the better / no, it's for the better by selfishambition
Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-01-03
Ilya Rozanov has been carrying his mother's ghost since he was twelve years old. Sochi is where the weight finally breaks him. Russia is eliminated in the most humiliating loss in their history, and their captain sits on a twelfth-floor balcony railing thinking about letting go. Shane Hollander has a gold medal game in fourteen hours. He comes anyway.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 11,371
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77026136
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Shane made a decision a long time ago: he wants hockey, needs it, and he wants it for as long as he can get it. He's going to play till he can’t anymore, and he’s going to do all the right things so no one can ever argue otherwise.
But also: he knows his body well, and he’s worried about an emerging pattern.
Or: the Shane abortion fic
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,478
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76843136
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Ilya recalls his mother in fragments: her voice, gentle in his ear; her curls, warming his cheeks as she wrapped him in an embrace; the way her eyes crinkled, as she brushed his hair back and said, “You are getting so tall now, Ilyusha. What am I going to do about my very tall bear?” Ilya Rozanov has never belonged to anyone but himself. An Ilya character study, tracing canon events.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,528
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76773556
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where do we start on a love that we know so well by iittaliia
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-30
”I told her how I felt”, Ilya said quietly. ”About you.” ”You told my mom before me?” Shane’s voice cracked. He knew it was illogical to feel jealous of his mom for having gotten clarity on their relationship before him, but he couldn’t help it. ”She was not high at the time”, Ilya pointed out, shrugging like it was not a big deal, and Shane wanted to punch his teeth in. Or kiss each one of them individually. Definitely one of the two. // Or, Shane and Ilya finally spoke the same language at the same time.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,096
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76729166
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The Ford is a rusted-out red bucket, the tent is a mess of orange nylon, and the Norwegian woods are a lot steeper than they looked on the map. The wilderness doesn't care about NHL standings, and right now, it’s winning. For six years, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov have lived in the quiet of hotel rooms and the heat of the game. But here, far away from the cameras and the crowds, their guard is finally starting to drop. Between charred sausages, a ruined pair of sneakers, and a leaking tent, they are running out of ways to hide from the truth. As the summer ends, they have to decide if they are brave enough to stop being rivals and start being something else entirely. The morning is quiet. The grass is grey with dew as they pull out of the driveway, the air cool enough to make Shane shiver. He’d insisted on renting this red Ford—a rusted-out bucket that he called "the authentic experience"—and it coughs as Ilya hits the street. Ilya looks at the dashboard like it’s a personal insult. Shane knows he’s thinking about his Ferrari. Shane watches Ilya’s profile in the dim light. He listens to the engine’s uneven beat and almost hopes the car just stops. A stall would freeze the world right here. It would keep them trapped in the smell of old upholstery and cold air, holding the moment still before the real world starts calling them back. A bottle of bug spray rattles in the door, breaking the silence. Shane reaches out to steady it and glances at the mess in the back seat. Tents, sleeping bags, and groceries are piled to the roof. It’s a disaster, honestly. They leave the city behind, passing quiet streets where only a few windows are lit. Shane leans his head against the glass. For six years, this is all they’ve had: fast, desperate nights in hotel rooms in cities like Detroit or Columbus. Quick sex after games where they spent an hour trying to smash each other into the boards. Even then, Ilya always made a point of pinning Shane down. Shane can still feel it if he closes his eyes: the silver cross Ilya wears dangling cold against his skin, and the sound of Ilya’s ragged breath in his ear. He loves it—the feeling of being held there by someone who actually can. Shane smiles at his reflection. He definitely has a thing for being pinned down. Lately, though, it’s been different. The hotel rooms turned into tuna melts in Ilya’s Boston apartment and long nights on his massive sofa. And Shane, being Shane, freaked out. He remembers storming out of Ilya’s place, stammering some lie about an early practice while trying not to see the hurt in Ilya’s eyes. Maybe Ilya can feel him starting to spiral again, because he suddenly reaches across the gearbox and takes Shane’s hand. The shift happened so slowly Shane didn't even notice. Ilya Rozanov—the arrogant Russian superstar who can score fifty goals or bruise Shane’s hips with the same ease—has become something else. Shane doesn’t have a name for it yet. He just knows he somehow ended up asking Ilya to come to Norway. He blames the drugs they gave him in the hospital after his last concussion. They were good drugs. He still remembers Ilya visiting him in that white, sterile room, his large hand brushing Shane's cheek. It was the only thing that felt real. Now, though, he’s stone-cold sober and terrified. Coming out has never felt like an option. Not in their world. The locker room is still a place where "faggot" is a punchline and any sign of being "soft" is a target. Even with guys like Scott Hunter leading the way, the fear is still there, eating at him. Every time he thinks about the flight back, a knot tightens in his chest. The new season is waiting for them, and the questions won't stop looping: What if Ilya decides this is too much work? What if the distance and the risk aren't worth it? Or worse—what if he stays, and ends up in a grey interrogation room back home because he’s been "corrupted" by a Canadian? It sounds like a bad Cold War parody, but the fear is real. Shane is most definitely freaking out. Again. Ilya strokes the back of Shane’s hand with his thumb. He meets Shane’s gaze, and his eyes are uncharacteristically kind. Fuck. Maybe it will be easier in the woods, away from the slurs and the cameras. He hopes so. Because when this car eventually turns back toward the airport, summer is over. The world will expect them to be rivals again. Just the thought of it makes it hard to breathe. *** “We should’ve bought the one that expands,” Ilya says. “Like fucking Transformer.” He sounds just as pissed off as he does after a missed breakaway in the third period. They’re parked at the base of a trail that goes straight up the mountain. The plan was simple: pitch the tent, look like they know what they’re doing, and start hiking before lunch. Instead, it’s a total disaster. This tent—bought during a rush of "we’re going to be outdoorsmen" energy in Oslo—is more complicated than any play Shane has ever seen on a whiteboard. Shane leans against the rusted Ford and just watches him. He can’t help but smirk. Ilya Rozanov, who can deke out the world’s best defenders, is currently losing a fight to a pile of orange nylon. His hair is a mess, and he’s somehow managed to tangle a cord around his ankle like a trap. For a guy who spent the whole flight acting like a mountain was just another challenge to beat, Ilya looks exactly like what he is: a prince from Moscow who grew up in five-star hotels. He knows as much about the woods as Shane knows about Russian opera. In the NHL, someone else handles everything. Someone else books the flights, carries the bags, and makes sure the towels are warm. Out here, there’s no PR team to make their incompetence look like "grit." “The box said it’s a four-man tent,” Shane says, holding the manual. It’s written entirely in Norwegian. “Only if those four men are very small,” Ilya mutters, “and have no personal boundaries at all.” He gives the fabric a shove and looks up at the grey peaks and the endless trees. “Seriously, Hollander. You bring me to the edge of the world just to prove we are both idiots?” “I think we bought a garden ornament,” Ilya adds, kicking a pole. “Not a shelter.” “Maybe it’s a test,” Shane says. It’s the kind of empty encouragement he usually uses in the locker room when they’re down by three. “If we survive the tent, we might survive the trip.” That arrogant grin flickers across Ilya’s face—the one that’s way too charming to ignore. It makes it hard for Shane to keep his guard up.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,610
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76725426
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Tomorrow, he'll call Shane and apologise. He'll fix what he broke. He doesn't want Shane to be angry at him anymore. He doesn’t remember swerving to avoid a merging truck. He also doesn’t remember hitting the tree. Or: Ilya gets into a car accident. Shane is there to pick up the pieces.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,446
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76647441
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ilya rozanov: ragebaiter supreme by hnjsngluvr69
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-29
It seems Ilya fucking Rozanov adheres to a daily schedule of tomfoolery. He’s always finding ways to irritate Shane with the stupidest shit. or, Ilya ragebaits Shane as a form of flirting. Somehow it works.
- Part 2 of hollanov <3
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,340
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76669636
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The heart monitor Ilya is standing next to starts beeping really quickly. “Hey, why is this going crazy? Is this normal? Should I call for the nurse?” Shane giggles, his eyes tearing up. “No, it's not normal. But it's you, so…” He inclines his head and tucks his and Ilya's joined hands somewhere under his ear. “It's my heart, Ilya.” He croaks, his voice painfully scratchy. He points with his other hand at the monitor that is still beeping fairly fast. “It goes crazy because of you.”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,003
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76606891
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Dialing You (Sorry, Darling You) by hollano_ov
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-28
Shane works in IT. Ilya’s computer always seems to be fucked up.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 13,303
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76313016
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Shane is the head chef with one Michelin star under his belt. Ilya is a 3-times James Beard award recipient. Shane does not like Ilya. But what happens when they are forced to work together? one. Shane Hollander has been the executive chef at Constellation for exactly four years, two months, and sixteen days when Marcus tells him about Ilya Rozanov. "It's just for six weeks," Marcus says, like that makes it better. Like six weeks isn't an eternity when you're talking about sharing a kitchen with someone who has very publicly called your cooking "technically perfect but soulless." Shane's hands are steady as he continues breaking down the duck—breast, legs, wings—with the precision that's earned him a Michelin star and the kind of reputation that has servers whispering when he enters the dining room. "No." "Shane—" "No." He sets down his knife with controlled care. "You're telling me that Ilya Rozanov, who spent an entire episode of Chef's Table explaining why classical French technique is 'the death of innovation,' is going to come into my kitchen—" "Our kitchen," Marcus corrects, which is technically true since he owns the restaurant, but Shane's been running it since the doors opened. "—and what? Critique my mise en place? Reorganize my walk-in? Tell me that my sauce work is bourgeois?" Marcus has the grace to look uncomfortable. "The publicity would be incredible. Two of the most talked-about chefs under forty, working together for the first time. The Times would eat it up. We could finally get that second star." Shane's jaw tightens. He doesn't need Ilya Rozanov's chaos to get a second star. He needs consistency, precision, and a dining room full of people who appreciate the kind of cooking that makes grown men cry—not because it's weird or boundary-pushing, but because it's perfect. "He's opening his own place in the city next year," Marcus continues. "Some experimental concept. Farm-to-table meets molecular gastronomy meets—I don't know, interpretive dance probably. But he wants to spend time in different kitchens first. Learning, he says." "Learning," Shane repeats flatly. "Ilya Rozanov, winner of three James Beard awards before he turned thirty, wants to learn from me?" "He specifically requested you." That stops Shane cold. "What?" Marcus shifts his weight, suddenly very interested in the copper pots hanging from the rack above the prep station. "He said—and I quote—'Hollander's one of the few chefs in North America who actually respects his ingredients enough to let them speak.' Which, coming from him, is high praise." Shane feels heat crawl up his neck. He's read every interview Ilya's ever given, watched every episode of every show he's been on, even hate-read his cookbook cover to cover. Not because he's obsessed—he tells himself it's professional research. Know your compettition. Except Ilya isn't really his competition, not in any traditional sense. They operate in completely different spheres. Ilya's the kind of chef who serves deconstructed everything, who treats a plate like a canvas, who once made a dessert that was just three perfect berries, some edible flowers, and what he called "the memory of cream." It was pretentious as hell. Shane had thought about it for a week. "When?" Shane asks finally. "He arrives Sunday." Shane closes his eyes. "That's in three days." "I know." "We have the Marchand private dinner Saturday." "I know." "And you're just telling me now?" Marcus has the decency to look apologetic. "I was hoping to find the right moment." "There is no right moment for this." Shane returns to his duck, his cuts perhaps slightly more aggressive than necessary. "Fine. Six weeks. But he follows my rules. My kitchen, my systems, my standards." "Of course," Marcus says, already backing toward the door like he's afraid Shane might change his mind. "I'll send you his requirements." "Requirements?" But Marcus is already gone. Shane looks down at the perfectly butchered duck in front of him and has the distinct feeling he's just agreed to something that's going to change everything. The email arrives at 11:04 PM. Shane's in his apartment—a studio in Queens that's closer to the restaurant than anything in Manhattan would be, decorated with nothing but a mattress, a espresso machine, and about thirty cookbooks—when his phone buzzes.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,853
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76570456
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The morning after Scott Hunter comes out in sweaty, ice-swept technicolour, Shane Hollander wakes up with a soulmate loon.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,250
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76575186
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Shane Hollander is a famous hockey player. Ilya Rozanov is a Twitch streamer on the rise with a very one-sided beef with the Montreal Metros’ captain. Under the username GingerAle24, Shane becomes a regular in Ilya’s streams. Ilya has no idea he’s talking to the very same player he’s always losing against.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,988
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76441671