1 – 19 of 19 Works in Bathing/Washing
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you see through my eyes (‘cause you live in my brain) by niamhhhn
Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
2026-08-22
Ilya’s voice dimmed, “Shane, what’s going on? Are you okay?” he sounded eager, but also sounded like that he would wait years if Shane even gave him one word in return. Shane aggressively shook his head, the hum only growing. “I need to-“ No. No, this wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t let this happen. Shane slowly sunk down to the kitchen floor, feeling the nooks in the drawers of the counters scratch against his back while his eyes shut tightly. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t a fucking baby. Shane was strong. And he was strong enough to make this stop. OR: Shane Hollander experiences a meltdown infront of Ilya.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,165
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #91139036
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“Hollander,” Ilya murmured gently. “Bath is ready.”
Shane cracked his eyes open, staring dumbly at the burly Russian hovering over him where he was still laying in bed.
“…bath?” He croaked, voice raspy with disuse.
“Mm. I ran you a bath. It will make you feel better before you go to sleep tonight. Will help with your sore muscles.”
Shane asks Ilya to fuck him gently during one of their regular hookups, badly bruised from their game. Ilya runs him a bath afterwards, and they fall secretly and desperately in love that way, through whispered confessions and late night conversations while Shane soaks, and Ilya quietly observes him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 35,214
- Chapters:
- 3/3
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #87225831
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Shane loves his boyfriend so much he wants to eat him alive. Or baby the fuck out of him. After a night of thinly maintained self-restraint at the cottage, he thinks Ilya will probably be more open to the latter.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 12,534
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #85022281
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“You…wanted to see me?” He asks, barely resisting a wince at how awkwardly it comes out. “After yesterday-” He stops, swallows.
Hollander makes a face–one of Ilya’s favorite faces, in fact–that says he’s a little embarrassed about what he’s about to say. Ilya feels his chest go a little tighter, wondering if Hollander has had time to reconsider, if he’d even planned to reach out after the game, apologize for spooking and running, ask to come ba-
“Did something…happen yesterday?” Hollander asks.
Ilya stares at him.
(the accident that takes shane out for the season happens the day after the tuna meltdown) (...it also takes his memory of the tuna meltdown with it)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 22,217
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #84871821
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The Birds and the Bees by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-04-03
“It won’t stop,” Shane said to the floor. His hands slid down and grabbed at his crotch, rubbing frantically over his boxers. “I can’t make it stop.”
They were still in the fucking hallway, and yes, it was six in the morning, but it was not private. Anyone could walk in, from their own apartments or the elevator. And Shane wasn’t exactly being quiet, gasping and groaning as he massaged himself. Viagra didn’t do this. It didn’t make you lose all sense of space, of boundaries, of… yourself.
This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t natural.
***
The morning after Ilya watches Shane and Rose together at the club, he gets a call from Shane. Something is wrong, and Shane says Ilya is the only one who can fix it. Ilya knows it's a bad idea, but that's never stopped him before.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 35,848
- Chapters:
- 5/5
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #81196341
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When Shane suspects Ilya has the flu but he's away for a game, he calls upon his mother to make sure Ilya is well taken care of in his absence. ___ “I’m sorry I thought you were mama,” Ilya quickly said on top of her words, still unwilling to meet her eye. So this was where the majority of the silence stemmed from, then. Shame. She immediately sat back down, plate forgotten. Even with his head angled downwards, she did not miss the red flush on his cheeks and chin. YUNA “Hey, sweetheart. Isn’t the game beginning in two hours? What’s up?” Yuna huffed quietly into the receiver of her phone, amused, as she watched David mercilessly throw snow off of the roof of their car with a shovel. He caught her watching through the kitchen window, sent her a gloved thumbs-up, and continued to sweep it from the windshield as if he had a vendetta against the wintertime. “Mom— hi,” Shane’s voice was tinny and obscured on the other line, as it always was whenever he was so far away, but this time even more-so when combined with the noise of what must have been the locker room. Shane rarely ever called this soon before a game; his priorities often more-so aligned with keeping his teammates in check and completing pre- game interviews, not placating his nervous mother. Something was amiss, and she had a nagging feeling it was serious. “Is something wrong?” She asked, unable to contain it. She heard him sigh. That was never a good start. Somewhere near him, a teammate shrieked something incoherent. But she patiently waited him out as he tried to find the words. “It’s— Lily,” he finally said, clearly frustrated. Her heart ached. She hated that he needed to be so careful with his words when around anyone he knew personally. She hated that he couldn’t be open and honest and carefree. She hated that all of the men he surrounded himself with got to talk openly about their wives and girlfriends and children, and he was relegated to a code- word like an obsessive middle schooler. But she steeled that anger for another time. “She’s sick, I think. Since I’m all the way over here for another twenty-four hours at least, I was hoping you might be able to… check up on her.” The ‘her’ was strained. Yuna nodded gratuitously, despite the fact that her son couldn’t see her. “Of course. Of course I will. Do you know specifically what’s wrong?” “Flu, I think. H—she won’t tell me. She mentioned not feeling well a few hours ago, and I haven’t heard anything since,” then, quieter, more nervous: “she would never ask for help, but I know she needs it. She wouldn’t have mentioned anything if it wasn’t bad.” Yuna Hollander did not know her son’s boyfriend quite well just yet. He had only recently fully transitioned to living in Ottawa, and therefore only just becoming a common occurrence in their lives— perhaps even more common than her own son. She had had him over plenty of times with Shane by his side, but only a handful of times by himself: almost always to watch Shane’s games. While so much was obscured in shrouded ambiguity, though, she did know one thing for certain: that Ilya Rozanov seemed to be a very stubborn man. And that Shane himself would never reach out, asking for her help on his behalf, if he didn’t think he needed it. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” she decided. “I’ll send you updates, but focus on the game for now, okay?” Shane snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Text me, please.” “Of course, honey. I love you.” “Love you too.” ____ Ilya’s new-construction mansion in Ottawa, purchased with Yuna’s amateur but enthusiastic real-estate guidance, was imposing beneath the newly-fallen snow: large and dark and glassy. David had managed to free Yuna’s car by the time she’d gathered a bag of groceries and medication, and she was not particularly cautious on her speedy drive over. She did not bother with knocking. There was no doorbell, and the house was sprawling; she doubted Ilya would notice if she walked right in if he was in one of the back bedrooms. She put in the code Shane had given her and noisy kicked off her shoes to announce her presence, but it sparked no reaction from the silent, open-floor living space. She placed her shopping bags on the counter and continued down the hall, knocking on the large door she remembered leading to the master bedroom when she had last been given a tour by the realtor, months ago. “Ilya? It’s Yuna,” she called, forcefully. There was no answer. Suddenly nervous, her hand shook, just barely, on the handle. “I’m coming in.” The room was dark, save for the meager light coming from a lamp on the dresser. It smelled stale and musky, like a teenage boy’s room when left unattended and uncleaned for too long. It was not messy, though— but eerily empty, as though nobody lived there. No clothing, no photos, no decorations besides the essential bedroom furniture. The only sign of life was a curled-up lump on the bed, facing away from the door. Yuna walked over, crouching down beside the bed near Ilya’s sleeping face. His expression, though slack and peaceful, was marred by the pallor of his skin and the unsettling, uneven pattern of his breathing. She slowly reached up to comb a hand through his hair, and nearly yanked her fingers back when she found it soaking wet, heat radiating from his skull. When she had first become a mother, pregnant with Shane, she was mortified that she would have to do things like this: take care of gross, feverish bodies, change diapers. But when she held him in her arms for the first time, it was as though his body became an extension of hers, and that fear dissipated into only small queasiness during episodes of sickness. Though Ilya was not hers by nature, she felt that same unyielding courage in the face of just how gross his damp, sticky skin felt. She quickly yanked the mound of blankets and quilts atop him down to his hips to cool him down, pressing a hand to his back. His tee-shirt was soaked through with sweat. When she then felt his neck, the temperature there was no better. “Ilya,” Yuna, though a calm person in most situations, felt the tightening in her voice. Why hadn’t he woken up by now, with all of this prodding? His skin was hotter than she’d ever felt
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,579
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #80197161
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"I’m sorry, I am just—” He drops his fork to wave his hand around, the way he does when he's searching for the proper word. He knows enough English words to describe what it is he’s feeling, but they don’t feel like adequate descriptors. My father, the man I loathe, is dying, and there is nothing I can do to save him. Everyone in my life expects so little of me, and I feel as though I may disappear. I feel like, if I did disappear, perhaps the world would be all the better for it. You are the only man in my life who has made me feel happy to take up space. Shane, tell me, what is the English word for this?
Ilya Rozanov's okay, not good, probably bad day.
Set during a liminal space of my design between the All-Star game and Ilya's father's death.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,640
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79694056
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mostly is plenty by amongtheshadows
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-05
“I feel stupid,” Ilya admits, the words slipping out thin and brittle. “I should be able to do this.” Shane pauses for a fraction of a second, then resumes, gentler still. “I know you think that,” he says. “But right now, your job is to be here and let me help. That’s it. You’re doing great.” *ilya is stuck in a depressive episode and shane helps him through it*
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,488
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78931026
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Shane Hollander and his Human Weighted Blanket by CoorsOnTap
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-24
This task of ‘shutting Shane’s brain off,’ aka stopping panic attacks, had become a sort of game to Ilya. His current list of approved methods were sex (obviously), hot/cold showers and sour candy. Reserved for particularly bad attacks was dunking Shane’s face in an ice bath, though this method was not preferred by either of them. The most efficient way (besides sex) is the “weighted blanket” method. OR: Shane spirals in a way-too-hot shower and Ilya pulls him out.
- Part 1 of Hollonov One Shots
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,506
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78215646
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Shane comes home tired and in need of some serious care from his husband. Ilya is more than happy to give him what he needs. Just a very fluffy oneshot of them being soft and happy. Light smut and even lighter angst. There were many things about Shane that Ilya loved more than the air he breathed. He loved the way Shane’s freckles glowed when he blushed, and god did Ilya love making Shane blush. He loved the way Shane’s walnut colored eyes glossed over when Ilya took charge, whether they were in the bedroom or simply when Shane needed the release of giving himself up to his husband. Ilya loved when Shane’s head lay on his chest and he could smell the clean scent of Shane’s shampoo, his ink hair lightly tickling Ilya’s cheek. He would run his hands through it, scrape his nails down Shane’s nape and feel him completely and utterly melt into him. There were too many things Ilya loved about Shane to name, but there was one thing that his husband did that made Ilya feel like he would lose his mind. Now, Ilya knew Shane would never approve of him saying that he had an oral fixation, but Ilya didn’t really know what else to call it. Shane just liked having things in his mouth… all the time. Ever since Ilya had known Shane, his husband always seemed to have something in his mouth, or at least seemed to relax when he had things in his mouth. Whether it was a hoodie string, a straw, the collar of his t-shirt, his knuckle, or even his bottom lip. Shane just was always sucking or biting something. Ilya didn’t really think much of it at first. Well that wasn’t totally true, Ilya always thought it was hot when Shane had something in his mouth, especially when they were younger. It was hard to sit there and watch Shane chew and suck on a hoodie string when it could’ve been Ilya’s dick instead. And lord did Ilya love when Shane sucked his dick. Ever since their first time together, when Shane was inexperienced and desperate, he was so good. Shane was always so good, especially for Ilya. It was satisfying when Shane would simply drop to his knees without being asked, his hands burning against the backs of Ilya’s thighs as he took Ilya’s cock in his mouth like it was second nature, like he belonged there. He certainly acted like it. Ilya never realized how much Shane sucking him off was for Shane as much as it was for him. Ilya never really thought about it back then, he was selfish and took Shane for granted and Ilya regretted it with his whole soul. But as they grew and their relationship grew and they stopped being stupid about their feelings, Ilya started to truly notice all of Shane’s little mannerisms. Ilya saw how much Shane loved to be good. He loved praise, he loved reassurance, and he loved being told he did a good job. When Ilya took control, Shane was allowed to simply be Shane. He wasn’t Shane Hollander the hockey player, he was Ilya’s Shane. So when Shane came home from his game, sweaty and tired, his bag hitting their wooden floors with a thump, Ilya knew, even before he saw his husband, what he needed. Ilya had seen the game, and had seen how hard Shane pushed himself for them to win. Ilya knew that even though they won, Shane would need him. “Shane?” Ilya called from the living room, muting the tv and casually walking over to the front door where his husband was leaning against the wall as he toed off his shoes. Shane was wearing a simple white shirt and athletic sweats, his eyes droopy and tired and his hair sticking up in wild places. “Hey,” Shane greeted, exhaustion dripping into his voice as he pulled himself to stand upright, wobbling a little as he did so. Ilya went to his side, a hand resting heavy and comforting on the back of Shane’s neck. He brought Shane into his chest, his husband’s cheek pressed flush against his bare flesh. “You played so hard tonight,” Ilya murmured into Shane’s hair and he felt Shane’s body go limp into his own. He was already braced for it and easily took his husband’s weight. “You made everyone so proud, made me so proud. You deserve rest, lyubimyy,” he stroked a hand through Shane’s hair and kissed the top of his head. Shane’s arms came up limp and heavy to wrap around Ilya’s waist, his hands splayed across Ilya’s strong back. “How do you always seem to know what I need?” Shane mumbled, into Ilya’s pectoral, his lips warm and soft on Ilya’s skin.
- Part 2 of
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,959
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77659351
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A Feeling That I've Never Felt Before (And I Deserve It) by sterlingstars
Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-01-12
He chuckles, low and smooth. "Ah, I see. Tell you what- your parents come by, we have dinner, yes? Have a little chat, all of that. But when they leave, and I get you to myself… let me take care of you, hm? For being brave." His heart skips a beat, his stomach swoops low and flutters. His cheeks definitely get warm, and he nods a little dumbly. "Yes, yeah. Please." Back at the cottage, Shane unravels a little after talking to his parents. But Ilya is here to pick up the pieces and help hold them together- and Shane deserves a little reward after facing his fears.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,716
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77573831
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Bad depression day for Ilya. "Ilya just stares into the air -he doesn't know when he opened his eyes-, his face looks empty, lifeless like someone stole all the emotions from it."
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,163
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77451061
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JANE: We didn't even kiss "Fuck." Shane presses his forehead against the elevator wall, his eyes fluttering closed against the tears threatening to fall. His vision darkens at the edges and he can't quite catch his breath, his chest aching. He sent it. His finger fucking slipped and he sent it. The text sent.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,798
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76981836
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When Ilya gets hit in the face with a puck and consequently knocked out, Shane panics and ends up driving 5 hours just to see Ilya, and make sure he's okay.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,480
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76941951
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Shane is used to the intensity, the roughness in wanting, not this. Or, Ilya gives Shane a bath while he's sick and he's struck with the realization that they're only naked together when they have sex.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,914
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76637351
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when in kyoto... by huacheesecake
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-26
“What Hollander? Never seen a pocket pussy before?” Shane snorts, he’s seen a pocket pussy before- but this one is a little different. It’s shaped like an egg. He frowns. Ilya takes the egg-shaped object out of the bag, grinning as he unravels the packaging, “Is Japanese sex toy. I bought it online.” Or Ilya makes a sex itinerary for his schedule-loving husband.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,989
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76464491
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love, pull your sore ribs in (i will pull your tangles out) by nevereverever
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-12-22
Being a professional athlete in a contact sport is an exercise in enduring pain. Sometimes you get benched for three weeks because you have a broken cheekbone after you get hit in the face with a slap shot. Sometimes you play through a strained quad, a bruised shoulder, a mild fever. Most times, it’s just the constant, unending soreness that comes with pushing your body to its limit every single day. Every athlete had an injury they hated most, though, one that’s particularly painful or recurrent or just annoying. Ilya fucking hated injuring his ribs. There is almost nothing you can do with your body that doesn't involve moving your torso, and the pain is deep, throbbing, and gets just a tiny bit worse every time you breathe. Sitting up hurts, lying down hurts, walking hurts, and worst of all, coughing fucking hurts. or Ilya is sick and injured in the off-season. Luckily, Shane loves him so very much and is there to take care of him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,150
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75348276
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Ilya picks up on the third ring, breathing heavily into the phone. Shane hears a door slam shut through the device. “Do not yell at me.”
Shane stares at the half-empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table. “You suck.”
“I suck? I scored hat-trick! In your stupid body! I have not eaten in six hours, Hollander. I have not pissed. I have not laid down. I want to go home.”
“Rozanov–”
“Your mother has called twenty times. Your manager has called thirty times. Your father text me picture of crossword puzzle and ask for help. Clue is about American President from the 1980s. I cannot help!”
OR: the hollanov bodyswap fic.
- Part 3 of cjo + hr
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 22,370
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 4 versions
- AO3:
- #75819761
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Post-sex, Shane wakes up nonverbal and floaty in Ilya’s arms at the cottage.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,380
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75833131