PetronellaRose
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Summary
Ilya Rozanov wakes up from a medically induced coma, sixteen months into a mission to save the dying sun, and he can't remember a single one of his crewmates.
He's immediately drawn to one of them, though. Too bad Hollander won't give him the time of day.
- Language:
- English
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- 54,881
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- 8/8
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Bookmarked by PetronellaRose
04 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Apparently Shane, Marleau, Theriault, and Hunter were all awake the entire time. Ilya doesn't like the annoyed flare of something petty that flashes through him at that. What, they were mentally healthy enough to stay awake, but not Ilya? What's wrong with Ilya? Maybe they put Ilya to sleep like a sick dog because Ilya is just so annoying they couldn't deal with him. He has gotten the impression that he’s not very well liked.
He reads through the descriptions of his crew members and all of their duties. They’re all geniuses with doctorates, of course, except for Theriault, who was originally a fighter pilot, and Shane, whose biography surprisingly doesn’t include mention of any modeling contracts.
Everyone on the ship has multiple duties except for Ilya. Ilya is the bomb guy. His only job is Bomb. Theriault said that Ilya invented it. He tries to remember it, can't, but when he flips to the section of his packet with the bomb information, he knows everything written there. Like uncovering something that has been barely hidden beneath sand. It’s frustrating, like he has failed himself and this entire mission by getting something as stupid as amnesia.
He refamiliarizes himself with the bomb information. It's a complicated device, and it took a lot of trial and error to figure it out, and he knows it must have taken a long time to build it, especially given they would have had to build most of it in space. He understands all of that even without having the exact steps in his brain, the memories of how he'd created it. He remembers…
Oh. He remembers.
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Summary
Ilya Rozanov has been drafted by Boston, the number one pick overall, but his father doesn't want him moving to America and so takes steps to block his visa. He's going to have to go back to Russia and stay there forever and that, thinks Shane Hollander, is wrong.
It's so wrong that Shane can't stop himself from doing something about it. Even though that something is the most reckless, the only reckless thing he's ever done in his life. He marries Rozanov in secret, to keep him out of Russia and put him on a path to Canadian citizenship.
Shane's got a five-year plan to get him there and when you have a plan nothing can go wrong. Right? Right. When you have a solid plan and a marriage that's on paper only there's no risk of feelings getting involved. Not on Rozanov's part and certainly not on Shane's.
Right???
(or, the story of how Shane Hollander fell in love with his own husband)
Series
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 154,290
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- 22/22
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Bookmarked by PetronellaRose
31 May 2026
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Bookmarker's Notes
“What do you want to do?” he asked. It was only six o’clock and they were in fucking Vegas. He figured a guy like Rozanov would want to go out, find a nightclub, then do—whatever it was people like him did in places like this. That was their deal, after all, meticulously worked out via text and email over the six months since they’d shaken hands on it behind the rink in Ottawa. They were married now but there were no ties between them. No commitment. Nothing but a piece of paper that five years down the road would make Rozanov a citizen of Canada. He could do what he liked in the meantime.
Shane knew what he wanted to do tonight. The knowledge of it pressed insistently in his brain and refused to be ignored or locked away, as Shane had done his best to lock away every thought and feeling he had about Rozanov, particularly the ones from that night in the hotel gym. His skin felt hot and too tight, uncomfortable. He risked a glance at Rozanov and found him staring intently, eyes half-lidded and lips parted. The look on his face was the same as when he’d watched Shane drink from his water bottle. Shane caught his breath.
Rozanov’s hand curled around Shane’s waist as he walked him back into the wall, pressed him against it with his body that felt so big even though he was only an inch or two taller. There was a question in his eyes and Shane nodded in answer to it.
Yes, he thought. Fucking please.
Rozanov smiled as he gripped Shane’s face again, harder than he had in the chapel. His fingers dug into Shane’s cheek a bit but he didn’t mind. He wanted to feel this, to feel all of it. Rozanov’s fingers and his lips as he kissed Shane again, feathery-soft kisses that deepened as Shane pulled him closer, his tongue in Shane’s mouth, his cock, hard and fucking huge and pressed against Shane’s hip in a way he couldn’t ignore. Didn’t want to ignore.
Rozanov’s lips were wet, his breath hot on Shane’s cheek when he said, “Tonight, I think we should consummate our marriage.”
Shane smiled at his careful pronunciation. “Did you look that up?”
“Yes. Is right word?”
“Yeah.”
Rozanov managed to look both cocky and hesitant at once as he asked, “And you want?”
Shane nodded again. “Yeah. I want.”
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Casualty Card 24 by Lilylikeswords
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types, Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
27 Jun 2026
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Summary
Shane Hollander volunteered for a firefighter training exercise because it got him a paid day away from spreadsheets.
He didn't expect to be handed a casualty card.
He definitely didn't expect to be effortlessly scooped up by firefighter Ilya Rozanov.Now Shane can't stop thinking about the handsome rescue specialist with impossible blue eyes, while Ilya can't seem to stop finding reasons to rescue the same volunteer over and over again.
Turns out asking someone for their number is a lot scarier than running into a burning building.
Series
- Part 1 of Firefighters?
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 34,080
- Chapters:
- 3/?
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- 273
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Bookmarked by PetronellaRose
03 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
For one ridiculous moment, Shane forgot he was supposed to be injured.
Forgot he was participating in a training exercise.
Forgot his own name.
The firefighter spotted him immediately and his attention clearly sharpened, a small smile touched his mouth as he approached, "Casualty Twenty-Four?"
His voice carried a faint accent Shane couldn't immediately place. Low. Warm. Entirely too pleasantly wrapped around his vowels.
"Uh." A pause then Shane cleared his throat, "Yeah. That's me."
The smiled slowly faded as focus shadowed his face, "Good."
The firefighter crouched in front of him. The movement brought him closer, and Shane found himself suddenly aware of details he absolutely did not need to be aware of. The faint scent of smoke clinging to the turnout gear. The scrape of protective fabric. The pale lashes framing those impossible eyes. A name patch sat across his chest- ROZANOV.
The firefighter extended a gloved hand, "Can I see your casualty card?"
"Oh." Shane fumbled briefly with the lanyard, "Right."
Their fingers brushed as the card changed hands- a completely normal interaction, entirely insignificant, but his pulse reacted as though he had just experienced a life-changing event.
Rozanov looked down and began reading. The playful edge disappeared from his expression entirely now. Professional focus settled over him instead. His gaze moved steadily down the card.
A slight furrow appeared between his brows as he assessed the information. Shane watched him read. The silence stretched, then eventually Rozanov nodded to himself, "Alright."
He handed the card back, "How's the ankle?"
Shane glanced down, "The imaginary one?"
That earned him a brief laugh- a good laugh Shane noticed. The sort that settled warmly in a person's chest. "Yes, the imaginary one."
Shane pulled a face and dramatically sighed, "Oh, terrible."
Rozanov nodded, keeping a serious expression on, "I see."
Shane continued, "I've never experienced such fictional pain."
The corner of Rozanov's mouth twitched, "I'll make a note of it."
A burst of radio traffic interrupted them. Rozanov tilted his head slightly to listen, "Copy," he said into the microphone attached near his shoulder. Then his attention returned immediately to Shane. Calm and stead. "We're going to get you out of here."
Shane nodded, makes sense, he thought. They'll probably help me stand. Maybe throw an arm over a shoulder- something practical. Something normal. Something proportional to the fact that he was a large adult man.
At six foot Shane had long ago accepted that people usually approached lifting him with caution. Friends asked for help moving furniture rather than the other way around. Family members recruited him for carrying heavy boxes. Nobody had ever looked at him and thought, ‘Yes, I can pick that up.’
Rozanov's gaze flicked briefly over him. Assessing. Calculating. Then he smiled again. A small thing, soft around the edges, made to comfort. "Don't worry." Something about the words landed unexpectedly, "I've got you."
Shane opened his mouth but whatever response he intended to give never arrived, because Rozanov reached forward, one arm slid behind Shane’s back, the other settled beneath his knees, and then- Up.
The movement happened with such startling ease that Shane barely registered it. One moment he was sitting on the floor. The next he wasn't. The world shifted and his stomach performed an alarming somersault and not because he’d been quickly lifted but something else entirely.
The carpeted floor dropped away beneath him, and somehow he ended up cradled securely against a firefighter's chest as though this was the most natural arrangement in the world.
Shane stared at the side of the man’s face. Rozanov adjusted his hold slightly, effortless and completely unbothered.
No strain crossed his face.
No tightening of muscles.
No indication whatsoever that carrying a fully grown man required any particular effort.
The realization hit Shane like a freight train, because Shane was not small. He went to the gym three times a week. He knew exactly how much space he occupied in the world. He knew what lifting him involved.
Rozanov carried him as though gravity had become optional, "You alright?" the firefighter asked.
The concern sounded genuine. Shane blinked. "Yep." His voice cracked. Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.
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who will love a little sparrow by weeb_grass
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
27 Jun 2026
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Summary
Spring of 2016: Ilya loses a father.
Summer of 2016: Ilya loses a brother.
Fall of 2016: Ilya gains a daughter, a lover, and a friend.
Or: another "what if Ilya gained custody of his niece" fic.
- Language:
- English
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- 127,790
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- 5/5
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- 1,436
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- 5,433
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Bookmarked by PetronellaRose
02 Jul 2026
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Bookmarker's Notes
How’s your summer been? Shane will ask politely. Ilya will curl his knees up onto the toilet seat, mouthing at his mother’s crucifix.
Great, he wants to say. My brother is dead, and he’s left me with a child who I’m pretty sure hates my guts, but who refuses to leave me alone. I have not shit in peace in three weeks. I can’t listen to music while working out because I have to keep my ears open in case she begins to cry. The only joy I feel is when I see her show an iota of expression, typically after she’s finished creating some masterful piece of child art in her coloring book, or when her cries die down to sniffles when I hold her at night. I have not gotten laid in over a month and I’m ready to jump out of my skin, but I can’t fuck Svetlana because she’s already putting up with so much, and I can’t fuck you because you are so far away. I feel guilty for needing such things, in the wake of this child’s loss, but I have never been a father and I have no idea how to start being one now, let alone a good one. Tell me, Shane, tell me what to do. I feel as though I am swimming in a giant vat of oil, my head barely staying afloat. What the actual fuck am I supposed to do with this child— who will not leave me alone for one goddamn minute— when this season starts?
Good, he texts back.
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Just Guys Being Dudes by FightMeImSmall
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
21 Jun 2026
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Summary
Ilya and Shane get outed via instagram live… as friends. The world reacts as their friendship becomes the most talked about thing in the hockey world.
Being openly friends affords them more freedoms to be together, but all the more easy to lose it all.
AKA
Shane has a touch of Hudson Williams to him
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 76,773
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- 15/?
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- 2,426
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Bookmarked by PetronellaRose
01 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
“Goood morning!” Ilya appeared from his room, dressed in a form fitting Boston top and loose sweats slung low.
Shane turned away, and started getting the omelette ingredients out of the fridge. Ilya couldn’t have dressed in anything that wouldn’t make Shane want to devour him, so the best option was not to look at all.
“Holly, I heard we had a break in!” Ilya strode in with all the ease of someone who didn’t give a fuck.
Shane scowled at the new nickname he’d apparently acquired. Ilya came to join him on his side of the breakfast bar, with Marlow sitting on the other side of it on a bar stool.
“Marly, meet Holly, Holly meet Marly. I believe you two have met before, da? Marly broke your collarbone.”
“Shit Roz.” Marlow groaned. “Did you have to bring that up?”
“Oh what, you thought I forgot?” Shane scoffed at him.
There was an awkward pause, Shane could see Marlow wanted to apologise but also couldn’t with his live still going, not in front of all the Boston fans, and most likely some Montreal fans by now. But then a change of topic could only really be the elephant in the room: why the fuck was Shane Hollander sleeping on Ilya Rozanov’s couch?
“Hello world,” Ilya leaned toward Marlow’s phone. “I hear you now know our little secret. Shane Hollander, is my stalker. He follow me home, broke in, sleep on my couch. Is very sad.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Shane elbowed him hard in the side.
“Ow fuck, Jesus.” Ilya clutched his side. “See people, Hollander is very well behaved in ice, but off ice, very violent.”
“I miss when your English was bad.” Shane said, loud enough to be picked up by the phone.
Shane had started chopping the veg he was adding to the omelette. Very happy to have his eyes and hands occupied.
“He is so mean to me. See rivalry alive and well!” Ilya laughed, practically pointing at the elephant.
“Yeah can I get some clarification? As in, any?”
Shane glanced up at Marlow, and saw that he was giving Ilya a look. He had written on a post-it the had been on the counter.
Just explain so the fans don’t speculate
Marlow saw Shane noticing, put the post it down to add
That why didn’t end live
And Shane understood it. If he’s ended it when he saw Shane on the sofa the speculation would have been intense, uncontrolled, but this way, Marlow was giving them a chance to control the narrative.
“Okay okay” Ilya held up his hands. “Hollander is like my best friend, have known him long time. First hockey player I met when I came here. First time we meet, 2008 I think?”
“Yeah.” Shane said, definitely casually. “Weren’t friends then though. You were an asshole.”
Marlow snorted. “Well that hasn’t changed so what did?”
Shane found himself shooting Marlow an amused smile. “Nothing. Forced proximity.”
“What golden boy is being too nice to say, is that I ask him about Montreal and Boston, and why are we rivals. I didn’t really know. He told me they gonna make us rivals and because I am rebel, I say fuck that.”