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The Ballad of Shane Hollander's Tits
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hold me like your cards (close to your chest) by chemtrailbluez
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
23 Jan 2026
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He almost wonders if Hollander would ever push his tits together and let Ilya kneel over his chest to fuck the narrow space between them. Hollander would probably look up at him with his gorgeous doe eyes, wet with desperation, and moan like he's being fucked in the ass.
No, he thinks. Hollander would be mortified at the mere suggestion.
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Shane Hollander is worried about everyone and everything.
Ilya is mostly just sick of air travel.
Or:
Shane and Ilya are having trouble balancing their very private relationship and their very public lives.A slice of life.
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At the 2021 All-Star Games in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Ilya comes to Scott with a proposition.
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Malysh - ‘baby’ as in child or partner.
A woman comes forward claiming she is the mother of Ilya Rozanov’s eight year old child.
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Robby has gone from barely being able to watch to not wanting to even blink. He can’t keep his eyes from darting down to where Whitaker’s thighs grip the saddle, how he slides forwards on it with every downward bow of the bull and back as it pushes up. Again and again and again, he rolls with the mechanical bull with a single circular fluid motion.
It crosses his mind that this might be one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. He doesn’t even try to unpack that thought, it doesn’t even feel like an opinion he can change. It’s just a fact. Whitaker on the mechanical bull is one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.
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It’s Javadi’s twenty-first birthday party and the Pitt team hit the cowboy themed bar downtown. Whitaker gets on the mechanical bull.
One thing leads to another.
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Jake sneaks into Robby’s house to spent the night. He thinks there might be another intruder with worse intentions.
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Jake and Dennis’s second meeting doesn’t go very well.
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“So you’re gay?”
It’s so blunt — so Trinity, he laughs. “Like, mostly?”
“Oh hey!” Trinity holds her beer up for him to clink his against. “Me too!”
Series
- Part 1 of sexy platonic roommate shenanigans
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When sex with your boss is no different that putting a sick animal out of its misery.
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Shane had been sucking Rozanov’s mostly soft dick for between six and eight minutes. Since all the most important moments of Shane’s life were timed, he had a good internal clock. He was pretty sure it had been eight minutes.
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Outside of Riko, alphas still reigned supreme in the nest, and Jean learned, intimately, the suffering that befell omegas here. Riko wouldn't hesitate to induce a rut or heat if he saw fit, and he certainly would if he noticed that Nathaniel was living a lie.
When Jean met his eyes again, shock was painting his face, "I have another six months left, but he can't…"
Jean scoffed sardonically, "Can't what? He is the King. You think he does not have access to emergency heat inducers?" And it would be a heat, Jean thought, as he took in Nathaniel's form through new context.
He dropped the wrist he grabbed earlier, moving his hands to grip tightly at Nathaniel's tense shoulders, "You cannot let Riko know the truth. If he were to find out you are not the beta you say you are, it will have disastrous consequences for us both."
Jean barely stopped himself from shaking him, "It is a slight against his intelligence for you to lie, and he will not hesitate in his attempts to own you. Already he is planning for your transfer, you ignorant fool."
"Riko is the fool if he thinks I'll leave the foxes," Nathaniel spit out with a glare.
Jean shook him, "You will not have a choice."
Series
- Part 3 of Last Chance to Lose Control
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Andrew walked into the lobby with a sober mind, and he very nearly halted in his tracks.
One, two, three, four. Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin, the same.
Neil Josten, bruised rotten, blue eyes, hair that gleamed red under the sterile lights. Neil Josten, no longer absent of scent. He smelled like smoke, fire, and the smallest hint of something sweet, like an autumn campfire and roasted smores.
Neil Josten, an alpha, who's scent filled Andrew's lungs and spoke of relief.
Series
- Part 1 of Last Chance to Lose Control
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“More,” Rozanov grunts in English, but Shane is transfixed on the bead of sweat rolling down his temple, down to his tense jaw. “Say more, Hollander.”
“Mm, more–”
“No, more– Блять–”
“No more?”
“Ни хрена себе– Say more Russian, Hollander.”
or, Shane knows how to say about four words in Russian, and Ilya loses his mind
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“What is grailed dot com?” Shane reads out loud from the computer screen.
“How have you spent almost fifty grand on it in the last year?”
Ilya doesn’t reply.
“Is it a-” it’s like Ilya can hear the gears turning in Shane’s head, “Is it a porn website?”
Ilya laughs lightly, endeared by Shane's choice of words, “As if you would know.”
“Fuck you, I’ve watched porn.”
Ilya turns to face him, a look of pleased incredulity painted on his features. He watches as Shane processes what he just said and then shakes his head as if to rid himself of the trance. Shane both hates and loves these moments when Ilya gets him to say ludicrous things in his own defense. As if he even needs to defend himself.
Shane and Ilya talk about personal finance, porn and they are in love.
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it's worse to be nothing by destielpasta
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
11 Jan 2026
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How are you feeling today?
Ilya stares at Shane’s text, biting his lip.
You are asking too many questions again, Hollander, he types. His thumb hovers over the send button. Instead he deletes it, switching briefly to the Cryllic keyboard to type out: I feel like I was hit by a speed train, but instead of killing me it punched a hole through my heart, making more room for you.
Fuck, that’s insane.
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Ilya eats pelmeni and texts Shane a lot while still in Russia. Takes place the day after the tunnel phone call in episode 5.
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Oh babe, I hate to go by destielpasta
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
17 Jan 2026
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Ilya has learned that love gives you time, but it cannot make forever out of two weeks.
He worries at his bottom lip, feeling the first seeds of dread as he leans against Shane’s bureau. He’s dressed, his bag is zipped, and it’s still dark outside. Shane sleeps, adorably, half on his stomach with his face nearly off the pillow. He didn’t need to get up as early as Ilya. You don’t need to get up as early just to drive someone to the airport.
It’s 3 am. Ilya’s flight is at 7:30 and they still need to make the two-hour drive.
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They had two weeks, and those two weeks are finished. Shane drives Ilya from the cottage to the airport.
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“Come on, baby, once in a while does not hurt. Rookies say that drunk cigarettes don’t count, have you ever heard that? I think is funny,” Ilya tries, his kisses softer now, trying to work Shane into the soft, pliant mess he loves.
It doesn’t work. In fact – “What’s that, Ilya?”
Ilya is biting anywhere he can find, “I don’t have gun license, so I must be happy to see you.”
But that doesn’t work either. Shane finally moves – only to grab at Ilya’s collar, pulling it so that it digs into the back of his neck, which has Ilya pausing as Shane inspects. “That, Ilya. What’s that.”
or, Shane finds some (perfectly explainable) lipstick on Ilya's collar, and they both go through emotional saw traps
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Many Loved Before Us, I Know That We Are Not New by servetas
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV)
16 Jan 2026
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“This is hard to talk about,” is all he says, though he knows it will amount to nothing.
Shane’s fingertips are feather-soft on his chest. “You have to.”
He has to, because Shane and Ilya have this thing, now, this agreement. Nothing is too hard to talk about. Nothing is off limits. They have to be bare, have to surrender the deepest crevice of their soul to one another. And Ilya, for whom this is easier said than done, whose chest carries a perpetual weight, an immovable mass, it’s all worth it – worth the relief smoothing over Shane’s features, the reassurance that he’s not worried anymore, that Ilya can give him this peace, albeit only a fragment of what Shane gives him by just being there when he wakes up. He would never say it, but he thinks that what he has to offer to Shane amounts to nothing – nothing compared to what Shane does, what Shane is, by simply nuzzling into his chest and sighing into his sleep, late at night when all Ilya can do is lay awake and just feel.
“I need more,” Ilya says. “And is nothing you can do. I need you inside me, and it feels terrible.” He swallows, with great difficulty. God. “I need to– I need to eat you.”
or, Ilya never knew love can hurt this good
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You want him in the way a wolf wants a lame rabbit; not because it’s satisfying, but because it’s easy. You know exactly how he’ll crumple. How he’ll say no without meaning it.
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Ilya tucked his smile against Shane’s neck and brought his hand down Shane’s front. “He used to be so boring,” he said to Hunter. “Would not let me fuck him because you were next door.”
Shane groaned. “You’re such an asshole—that was a long time ago,” he said. “I was trying to be discreet.”
“Yes, and now look at you,” Ilya said. “Go suck Hunter’s dick.”