Idk if this is a controversial headcanon or not, but I can't imagine Small Shane Hollander being shy and anxious.
He strikes me as the type of kid who really didn't give a single fuck. Not a one. He was doing his own thing and having fun and being good at it, and whether he had friends or not really wasn't a concern for him because it's not like he wanted to hang out with other gross stupid kids. He was a haughty nonchalant child who didn't even register any kind of bullying attempt from fucking Jimmy, bc who cares about Jimmy?
Any kind of feeling of inadequacy came after puberty when other kids started being slightly more interesting and complex and he became the younger kid on his teams instead of just one more of the lot. When hockey practice actually started to need some team synergy and the dynamics changed on him.
But before that, that kid wasn't shy, and he was having a wonderful time
Fic Summary: High on pain meds after a fall, pole dancer and aerial hoopist Shane Hollander invites his biggest rival to come spend the summer at his cottage. Ilya Rozanov is not the kind of person who hangs out with guys like Shane, so it's a big surprise when Rozanov accepts the invitation. Together, they make the kind of magic other athletes can only dream of, and Shane finds himself hoping Rozanov never lets him go.
Snippet: Hey, Ilya starts out. I do not go back to Russia until third week of June. Was your offer genuine? It would have been almost out of character, if he hadn’t tacked on, Or do you forget inviting your biggest rival to your studio this summer? ;) Shane just shakes his head, composing his reply. It’s the last day of May, he’s only got a little bit of time to make sure Ilya knows this is worth it.
While he considered being just as flippant as Ilya, Shane wants the other man to know that his offer is genuine. He really would like to work with him over the summer, honing their skills together and maybe even coming up with a pairs routine they could trial when the season opens back up. He doesn’t expect them to rank very high if they do, but Shane can’t shake the idea of working the pole with Rozanov instead of against him.
Hey. Shane mirrors Ilya’s opening. The offer was absolutely genuine. I would love to have you work with me in my studio this summer. Though he thinks about it for several minutes, he can’t come up with anything else to say. At least, not anything that won’t make him look like an idiot.
Is in Ottawa, ya? You have suggestion for hotel?
That won’t do at all. There’s no way Shane wants to waste any of their time due to a commute. My place is pretty big, he shoots back. You are more than welcome to stay here. There’s enough space that we would be able to stay out of each others’ way.
And what if I don’t want to stay out of your way? ;)
Shane swallows hard. His mind starts running the odds on how Rozanov wants him to take that. Is it supposed to be silly? Flirty? A threat? Maybe even all three. With a deep breath, he responds. Then I guess we’ll just have to dance around each other. There, that’s a witty enough response. He thinks.
I like that idea very much, Ilya sends back. What is address? With another deep breath, Shane drops his location in the chat. He makes sure Ilya knows he’s welcome to come up as soon as he’s able, asking that he just give Shane at least a few hours notice before just showing up. He gets a reassurance that there will be a message at least a day in advance, then Ilya lets him know he’s got to go, his father is calling him.
No worries, Shane shoots back. Talk to you soon.
He’s not sure how long he sits there staring at his phone after that final message. His heart rate, which had skyrocketed during the conversation, slowly begins to return to normal. Forcing himself to unbend his fingers from where they have a death grip on his phone, Shane sets the device down and heads into the kitchen. He’s starving, and he knows there’s at least a couple of cans of tuna in the cupboard. Damn, he’s going to have to order groceries.
After a meeting with the Centaurs management, Ilya finds Shane crying in their walk in closet | Words: 1444
Ilya and Shane are both home on this lovely Friday afternoon, a rare occurrence for them these days. Shane came home from a meeting a bit ago, and headed upstairs to change. He’s been up there for a while, and Ilya is getting impatient.
He’s hoping to spend the afternoon playing some video games, or doing a workout. Or really, whatever Shane wants to do, as long as they’re together. Because they’re out, they’re engaged. And they’re going to play on the same team (bearing all went well with Shane’s meeting today).
Ilya wanders into his (now their) bedroom and doesn’t see Shane, but he does hear something coming from the big walk in closet.
The door is closed, so he moves a little closer to investigate. As he places the sound, he immediately feels a knot well in his throat.
Shane is crying. All alone. In his their closet.
And Ilya doesn’t know what to do. Obviously, Shane is hiding because he doesn’t want Ilya to hear him. So, maybe it’s best to give him some space. But also, he can’t just leave him to cry. What if he needs help?
So, Ilya quietly sits on the other side of the door, ear pressed to the wood.
He doesn’t know how long Shane has been in there. He got back from the meeting with Farah and the Ottawa management about half an hour ago, so it can’t be that long. He decides to give Shane five minutes, and then he’s going in.
The five minutes are absolutely painful. Hearing Shane cry and sniffle. Occasionally Ilya hears him take deep breaths to try and stop his tears, only for them to start again.
Ilya makes it about … ninety-five seconds before he’s opening the door. He probably should have knocked first, but unfortunately he’s not thinking and bursts right in.
He finds Shane on the floor in the middle of the room, sitting crisscrossed. His body is sort of slumped over his legs and one of his hands is covering his mouth, trying to hold in his sobs.
Shane turns his head towards the door as Ilya enters.
“Hey,” Ilya tries, using a soft voice. He immediately sits down next to Shane and pulls him into his side.
Shane buries his face into Ilya’s armpit, and although his tears were finally slowing down, they pick up all over again. Ilya wraps an arm around Shane and soothes his hand up and down his freckled arm.
“I’m sorry—“ Shane cries, turning his face further into Ilya’s shirt.
“No, no,” Ilya says. “Is okay. Cry. I just didn’t want to leave you alone.”
Shane shakes his head but doesn’t move from Ilya’s shoulder.
The tears continue for a bit, and the way Shane’s breath sometimes catches, almost hyperventilating, is what really freaks Ilya out.
After a few minutes of that, Ilya guides Shane to sit on the floor in the space between his outstretched legs, facing him. Shane’s legs wrap around Ilya’s torso and he grips onto him for dear life, tucking his face into Ilya’s neck. This position is better, with Ilya able to squeeze Shane with firm, even pressure.
Eventually, Ilya turns Shane’s face towards him to kiss him a bit, which often works as a good distraction when Shane is upset. Shane responds and kisses Ilya back for a minute before pulling away and tucking his head once more. That’s when Ilya is unable to stand it anymore.
“Okay,” Ilya says decisively. Not even the kissing helped! “Tell me what is wrong.”
Shane shakes his head.
“Tell me one thing,” Ilya repeats.
Shane shakes his head again, stubborn as always.
“Shane,” Ilya says, voice coming out sounding too stern, because he’s terrified.
This snaps Shane out of it, and finally he shares what he’s been crying about for half an hour.
“My number is retired,” Shane mumbles.
“What?” Ilya asks, not understanding.
“The meeting. With Ottawa. My number is retired, so I can’t keep it when I switch teams.”
Ilya takes that in for a moment. He visualizes the rafters of the arena he plays in every week, trying to remember if he’s ever seen 24 hanging there. He honestly doesn’t look upwards much, since there are no cup trophies hanging. But still, he should have known.
“Oh,” Ilya says, at a loss for words.
He knows why Shane is upset. His legacy, everything he’s built with Montreal, gone. He’ll never get to retire his number in the Bell Centre with his old team. Even if they were homophobic assholes, this is still hard on Shane who has made hockey his entire life. Well, his entire life until Ilya came along.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid,” Shane says, voice dripping with guilt.
“No. It’s not, Hollander.” Ilya realizes, “is that why you were hiding in the closet?”
Shane nods his head, and Ilya feels it rather than sees it. “I didn’t want you to feel bad for me. You moved to the middle of nowhere in Canada to play on a shit team for me. The least I can do is take a pay cut and give up my stupid number.”
“It’s not stupid Hollander. It’s all your goals and your wins. And your stats. And your number. And your … наследие” Ilya struggles with the english word, but he knows Shane will get it, even if he doesn’t know the word in Russian. “You are allowed to be upset.”
Shane starts tearing up again. “It just feels like I’m losing everything I worked so fucking hard for,” Shane says, miserable.
“I know, moya lyubov. But you are not. Your name is what matters, not your number.”
Shane’s face crumples again with pain. He thunks his forehead on Ilya’s shoulder. “Stop being so nice to me,” he sounds pitiful. “You’re making it worse.”
“What?! How?” Ilya says, exasperated. He frowns, his concern deepening.
“I’m selfish. You would give up even more for me. Hell, you already have. Your country, your city, your team.” His voice breaks when he adds, “I don’t deserve it.”
Ilya shushes him immediately, not having any of that.
“Yes, and I would do it all over again. I do not have regrets.”
“But—” Shane starts, and Ilya cuts him off.
“But, no. You have always cared more about hockey than I do. I am good. I am happy. But if you are not happy, I won’t be happy.” Ilya takes a deep breath, and as much as it pains him to say the words, he gets them out anyways. “You will be my husband. That is enough. If you need to stay in Montreal, then that is what you will do. We will make it work.”
Ilya finds Shane’s chin and lifts his face up until Shane’s eyes meet his own. “But I do not think you will be happy in Montreal any longer. You are not treated well. I think you will like it in Ottawa, as number twenty-four or number five-two.”
“I know,” Shane looks away, embarrassed.
“You have time. Think about it. Ottawa will wait for your decision.”
Shane shakes his head. “No, I want to do this. I’m just feeling sad.”
“You’ve been through a lot this year, Hollander. It is catching up with you.”
“What do I do?” his voice is small.
“We,” Ilya corrects. “Just keep going. Live how we want to live. Not worry about the NHL or the homophobes anymore.”
Shane nods and wraps his arms firmly around Ilya again, hugging him tight. Ilya suspects a few more tears escape, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll rub Shane’s back for as long as he needs.
———
Three weeks later, Shane comes home from his contract signing and finds Ilya in the living room. Shane’s wearing his new Centaurs jersey with a small, resigned smile on his face.
It’s still weird, and it still hurts to have a different number on his back. But maybe a new number is good for a new era.
Ilya has a serene smile on his face that takes Shane’s breath away.
“So, what did you choose Hollander?”
Shane smirks and turns around to show him.
Ilya takes in the number 18 on his back, and now it’s his turn for his eyes to well.
Ilya tackles him immediately, and is pulling down Shane’s shorts and getting on his knees as Shane laughs happily.
Shane thinks he’s going to like being a Centaur, even if he’ll no longer be number 24.
(Ten years later, number 18 and number 81 are both retired at the Canadian Tire Centre in Ottawa, the banners hanging next to each other in the rafters.)
goshhhh I love that hudson plays show!shane as way more emotionally vulnerable than book!shane. show!shane is always rolling over and showing ilya his soft underbelly (often without even realizing it) and ilya is always like AAA AAAAAAAA YOU CAN’T DO THAT YOU CAN’T LET PEOPLE SEE YOU FEEL and then shane’s big brown eyes start getting all shiny/wet with tears and his bottom lip wobbles a little and ilya is like well now I have to kms. or take care of you forever. AGH
Paris Week - a Game Changers and Heated Rivalry Fandom Event
As we are building things in the background, let us introduce you to a new fandom event coming to an AO3 Collection near you very soon !
In the next few weeks of summer, expect an interest form, a calendar, rules and FAQ as we get ready to launch Paris Week, a NSFW multishipping event that will celebrate the threesomes and moresomes of Heated Rivalry and the Game Changers Universe.
Posting Date: August 8, 2026
Title: At A High Speed
Artist: @heatry24
Author: @happyholigayss
Fic Summary: Five times Officer Shane Hollander sees Ilya Rozanov in a good mood, and one time he tries to cheer him up.
Snippet: “Officer Freckles!” Rozanov said with all the joy that should not be on the face of someone talking to law enforcement.
“It’s Hollander,” Shane corrected uselessly, though he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “You were speeding. Again.”
“We should stop meeting like this,” Rozanov said with a solemn shake of his head.
“Have you considered not speeding? That would probably fix the problem.”
“Ah, but then I would not get to see your beautiful face,” Rozanov said, and Shane cursed the flush he felt working its way up his cheeks. Judging by the gleam in his eyes, Rozanov noticed.
Whoever invented the flight attendant call button is a genius.
All Ilya has to do is press the little button above his seat and in a matter of seconds a beautiful man will come stand in front of Ilya and ask what he can do for him. A beautiful man with beautiful freckles and shining brown eyes and biceps that had flexed tantalizingly when he'd helped an older woman with her overhead luggage during boarding. And not Ilya, no. He'll ask what he can do for Mr. Rozanov.
It's honestly almost too much. (Almost.)
The first couple of calls had seemed innocent enough, and the flight attendant ("SHANE," his name tag helpfully provides) had been the picture of customer service as he arrived at Ilya's seat with a pasted-on pleasant smile and confidently strode up and down the aisle to bring him a hot towel, a snack, an extra blanket, and always "if there's anything else I can do, sir, please let me know." Ilya had never appreciated the phrase "hate to see them go, love to watch them leave" more.
By the fifth call in the space of an hour, Shane seems to be getting suspicious. His smile has taken on a wry edge as he approaches Ilya's seat, but Ilya maintains perfect innocence as he asks Shane if he can close his window shade.
Shane stops just short of rolling his eyes. "Mr. Rozanov, I have a feeling you're more than capable of closing a window shade on your own."
Ilya shrugs, eyes wide in put-upon bewilderment. "It's stuck! I cannot budge it."
Shane sighs as he braces one hand on Ilya's armrest leans across him to pull the shade down (easily, of course). Ilya tries not to be too obvious as he breathes Shane in, reveling in having him so close, but Shane must sense it anyway because he freezes as he starts to pull away, looking back at Ilya warily as if he's not quite sure what his game is.
"Ah, my hero," Ilya praises softly. "I knew you could do it."
Ilya watches Shane swallow hard before he straightens up. "Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Rozanov?" he asks, a slight waver in his voice.
"Not right now, thank you, Shane. But I'll let you know next time I need you." Ilya points to the button above his head and winks, smiling at the way it makes Shane flush before he hurries away.
Ilya decides not to press the button for over an hour after that, just to see, and the way it makes Shane slowly grow more and more antsy is simply delicious. Ilya can tell he's itching for Ilya's next call, nervously shifting his eyes over to Ilya as he assists other passengers.
After about forty-five minutes, Ilya is playing a game on his phone when he senses Shane next to him and looks up, where he's nervously biting his lip. "Mr. Rozanov, I just wanted to let you know that we'll be starting beverage service shortly. I'll be busy with the cart for a while, so if there's anything you might need..."
He's so beautifully nervous. He's being so wonderfully good. Ilya rewards him with an honest smile, one that seems to put Shane at ease. "Thank you, Shane. I will be fine."
Shane breathes out, returning Ilya's smile. "Ok, cool. I'll, uh, check on you later, ok?"
"Ok. Thank you."
When Shane comes with the beverage cart, he asks for Shane's number. He's never seen anyone flush more prettily as he writes it down on an airline cocktail napkin and signs it "xx Shane."
Fic Summary: Ilya Rozanov isn't handling the separation from Shane Hollander well, especially when Shane meets the beautiful actress Rose Landry. When Ilya gets dragged to a sex club by Marleau, he sees yet another post about the perfect couple on the way, so he drowns his sorrows in vodka at the bar. There, he can't believe it when two gorgeous Shanes approach him dressed in skimpy togas wearing androgynous makeup. Is Ilya imagining things, or is it the alcohol, or is it something altogether different tonight?
Snippet: Ilya found it hard enough to disguise his interest in one Shane Hollander on an ordinary day, let alone a pair of them dressed as they were today. He had to hide his desire with an accusatory remark.
"The fuck, Hollander? Why are there two of you…? Are you trying to fuck with me?"
"Yes, we are both named Hollander," the other one laughed. "But that one is Shane, who you already know about. I'm his twin brother, Isaac. Nice to meet you. I already know of you, of course. You're THE Ilya Rozanov!"
"Twin? Shane never told me…" Ilya slurred, still trying to sober up.
"Oh, so you know Shane personally?"
"We don't…know each other, actually…" Shane told his brother.
Oh, so it was like that, Ilya thought to himself. Well, if that was how Shane wanted to play it off, that was the way Ilya would play along. They were just fucking, after all. It was no big deal however Shane wanted to explain the way they fraternized.
honestly we don’t talk enough about how Ilya and J.J. are star crossed besties. if they were drafted to the same team, they’d have a ten minute long secret handshake. they’d own the local club scene. they’d share one wardrobe of atrocious, flashy shirts. they’d have an obnoxious amount of inside jokes. they’d laugh about Shane Hollander being boring and it wouldn’t take long for J.J. to notice the glint in his best bro’s eyes. what could have beeeen!!
Ilya teaching over eager Shane during the hookup era how to deep throat cock, his thumb hooked inside Shane’s cheek, hand on the back of his neck low voice coaching him through it because Shane had managed to mumble out a “want to do that” when Ilya had taken him to the back of his throat, nose pressed to Shane’s groin as he had swallowed swallowed swallowed him down. Ilya groaning and whispering “good boy” and “nice and messy, make it easier” and “that’s it, breath through your nose and keep going slow take all of it, relax your jaw and let me fill your throat, feel where it belongs”Shane going to fucking molasses over it, his mouth and throat so full and all the instruction and praise making his heart all horny and achy too.
@yearnalisms requested to bring this beautiful text post by @honeyybrii to gif form! all inspo credit to op of the text post! 💜 this tag is especially a good sum up of the set:
#it's genuinely so funny everytime ilya tries to teeheehaha around an insecurity #shane is like actually 🤓👆🏻
