my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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Ilya died, yes, but then the doctors saved him. Cardiopulmonary resuscitation in the ambulance, three electric shocks, two emergency surgeries, twenty-six units of blood. Ilya died, but then he came back.
If only Shane could get his subconscious to understand that.
Series
- Part 1 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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At first Ilya thinks it’s some kind of deformed bear. Then he sees the weird little claw-things it has instead of paws, and realizes it’s a massive stuffed sloth.
“Looks like someone’s going all-out this year,” Bood says from behind him.
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Or: Ilya and Shane might be spending their first Valentine's Day as a married couple apart, but Shane's not letting that stop him.
Series
- Part 2 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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Ilya Rozanov ☑️ @ilyarozanov81
hockey players always say they are so grateful for fans. well, for valentine’s month I will put my mouth where my money is. you are welcome in advance
Harris ☑️ @centaursharris
@ilyarozanov81 I’m afraid to ask. Also, it’s put your MONEY where your MOUTH is.
Ilya Rozanov ☑️ @ilyarozanov81
@centaursharris eh in this case I think my version is more accurate
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Or: a hybrid social media fic in which Ilya decides to spread the love amongst hockey RPF fans.
Series
- Part 3 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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“It is the worst day of my life,” Ilya declares, throwing himself dramatically onto one of the kitchen stools. “I went to go get lunch at Russian place I like, the one with lamb pelmeni? They had sign on the door. They are closing. Forever.”
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Or: Ilya’s favorite Russian restaurant in Ottawa is going out of business. There is only one thing Shane “Mr. Real Estate” Hollander can do.
Series
- Part 4 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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Last night, Ilya dreamed Shane served him divorce papers. They were making dinner when suddenly Shane pulled them out of the microwave and thrust them into Ilya’s hand. This isn’t working, he said. I’m divorcing you. No negotiations.
And look: of course Ilya understands that it was just a dream. The official divorce petition was a stack of sticky notes. Shane had faintly green skin and, Ilya is pretty sure, a third eye next to his left nipple. It obviously wasn’t real.
But.
Series
- Part 5 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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Shane sends him a text that says 'thinking about your cock' with a picture of his rippling abs, and even though Ilya really appreciates the abs, all he can think about is the faint bruise blooming on Shane's ribs, and whether it hurts him very badly, and whether there's anything Ilya could do to make it hurt less, if he were there. He wants to be there, he realizes. He wants to be there for the rest of his life.
He has to duck out of the team weight room so he can cough up a fistful of petals.
So.
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Or: Ilya gets Hanahaki disease.
Series
- Part 6 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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“Be careful,” Shane frets, one hand hovering over Ilya’s shoulder. “It’s icy, and I don’t want to be a widower.”
“Oh, we’d have to be much higher than this for the fall to kill me,” Ilya says, gaze still fixed on the cool black skyline. “At least seven stories.”
It’s not until much later, as the waitress is clearing the dishes from dinner, that Yuna finds herself wondering why Ilya knows exactly how high a fall needs to be in order to kill him.
Or: Yuna learns about Ilya's past bit by bit over the years.
Series
- Part 7 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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Ilya is sipping a cappuccino and watching Shane do very perverted yoga when he realizes that he doesn’t want to die.
It’s a dumb series of thoughts. He sees Shane bend over, neatly folding himself into a hunchback as his hands flatten by his feet, and Ilya thinks, I bet he’s going to love it when we’re old and grey and he can outrace me with my stupid hip replacement. And then he realizes that not only does he anticipate being old and grey enough to need a hip replacement, but that he actually wants to get there.
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Or: the existential crisis that happens when you’ve been depressed your whole life and then realize, suddenly, in your thirties, that you’re happy enough with your life that you no longer want to die.
Series
- Part 8 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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“Great,” Ilya says. “Now I get disease from stupid fucking bug. Canada is hellscape.”
Shane rolls his eyes. “So does this mean you don’t want to strip naked with me and inspect each other for ticks?”
Ilya’s head jerks up comically fast. “Wait, wait. Naked?”
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Or: Shane and Ilya go camping and check each other over for ticks. Because they're Shane and Ilya, this does not turn erotic at all.
Series
- Part 9 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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"Sveta," he says, before she can greet him. "I think I'm about to do something very stupid."
"You're always doing something stupid," she laughs, her voice tinny over the speakerphone. "What is it this time?"
"I am in a staring contest with a bottle of pills," Ilya says. "And I think the pills might win."
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Or: An alternate take on Ilya's mental health after moving to Ottawa, featuring the reality of long distance relationships, Ilya learning to captain a new team, and a series of game tapes made by Ilya's dead father.
Series
- Part 10 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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“So,” Yuna says, as she polishes off her third glass of cabernet. “When are you boys going to get started on kids?”
Shane chokes on his tiramisu.
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Or: Maybe Shane doesn’t want kids.
Series
- Part 11 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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When Shane meets Ilya's gaze, there's a challenge in his eyes. “Simple points system,” he decides. “Score kept by Bood."
“Great,” Bood sighs, “Now I’m a fucking marriage counselor,” but he’s already uncapping an Expo marker and starting a tally on the top left corner of the whiteboard. HOLLZY VS. ROZ it says, and under it, 0-1.
Like they're teenagers again, Shane crosses the locker room and extends a hand for Ilya to shake. "May the best husband win."
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Or: Ilya and Shane compete to see who's the better husband.
Series
- Part 12 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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Ilya suppressed a smile. “Maybe we fuck without a condom this time?"
Under him, Shane stilled. “Oh,” he said. “Um. That’s—is that safe?”
“I got tested,” Ilya rushed to reassure him. “Two weeks ago. I am clean.”
But Shane’s face didn’t clear. He bit his pink lip. “I didn’t, though.”
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Or: Ilya came to the cottage with a clear STD test, ready to fuck bare. He failed to consider that Shane 'plays by the rules' Hollander might make Ilya wait until he could get a test of his own before they ditched the condoms. Safety first, and all that.
Series
- Part 13 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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“Sometimes, I wish he was a worse person,” Ilya admits one night, while he and Yuna are doing the dishes. Shane and Ilya had come over for chicken parmesan, and it had been a lovely dinner, right up until David, clearing the plates, mentioned that he had met a guy at the store the other day who was a big fan of Shane’s, had a kid who idolized him.
David asked if Shane could sign a piece of merchandise for him, maybe record a video. Shane said yes, because he had a rule, about doing things for child fans. Now, Shane was off shooting a video while Ilya did the dishes, and Ilya already knew the way it would require Shane to drag his public face up from the depths of his stomach, the work it would take him to shed it afterwards, the way it would taint this evening.
Series
- Part 14 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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On June 24th, 2022, during game seven of the Stanley Cup finals, Ilya Rozanov takes a skate blade to the thigh and bleeds out on the ice.
The next morning, Shane wakes up in his husband's arms. It's June 24th again, and Ilya is still alive.
Now Shane just needs to figure out how to keep him that way.
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Or: Shane gets stuck in a time loop.
Series
- Part 15 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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“I always feel so safe with you,” Shane pants into the pillow as Ilya fucks into him. Shane flat on his belly on the bed, Ilya plastered on top of him like the world’s heaviest weighted blanket, their skin pressed together all the way from their knees to the nape of Shane’s neck. “So safe, so safe, I’m—oh, fuck, Ilya—“
By all measures, Ilya should be touched by this comment, if not wildly turned on. Instead, he finds he has to squeeze his eyes shut for a brief moment, hips stilling, to focus on thinking sexy thoughts so his cock doesn’t go soft.
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Ilya has some issues with the notion of safety, especially as it applies to him.
Series
- Part 16 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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At the corner store, the guy asks what brand of cigarettes Shane wants. Shane has never paid enough attention to Ilya’s cigarettes to notice a brand name; he asks for Marlboro, because at least it’s a name he knows.
At home, on his balcony, he cracks the pack and lights one. The smell curves towards him slowly, diffuse in the city air.
He closes his eyes. If he focuses, it’s three months ago and he’s sitting in Ilya’s bed and Ilya is resting his chin on Shane’s shoulder. Stay, he’s murmuring. I am not done with you yet.
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Or: Shane has a thing about smells.
Series
- Part 17 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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“You know, there are a lot of kids that look up to you—“
It’s the refrain of Shane’s life. Everything circles back to this: a lot of kids looking up to you. That’s why you need to spend your summers doing ad campaigns. That’s why you need to let a social media manager handle your every interaction online. That’s why we need to sit here after family dinner with flash cards rehearsing the different ways you’ll answer reporters’ questions after you face Boston next week, and, oh, when we’re done, let’s do some French vocabulary flashcards, too, because it’s important to the Francophone fans that you’re thinking about them. There are lots of Asian Francophones in Quebec, Shane. Almost 13% of primary schoolers are of Asian descent, compared to less than 4% of hockey players. Isn’t that pathetic?
As if Shane doesn’t know that it’s pathetic. As if Shane doesn’t know what he fought through to get here.
Abruptly, Shane is furious.
Series
- Part 18 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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“Ilya, hey, hey,” Shane says, setting the plates down and hurrying around the table to Ilya’s side. “What’s wrong, why are you crying?”
Ilya hiccups. “Is fine. Is nothing. I am just crying because Pike is so ugly,” he blubbers. “And it is so sad that these beautiful children have to look at his face every day.”
Pike waits until Ilya’s got his hands over his eyes to meet Shane’s gaze and mouth 'what the FUCK'.
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Or: after Shane moves to Ottawa, Ilya develops a habit of randomly bursting into tears.
Series
- Part 19 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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Ilya hadn’t known the video existed. If he had known, he would have paid someone to have it destroyed. Would have paid someone to murder Kuznetsov, maybe, just for redundancy's sake. But it was peak stupidity, to keep evidence of your homosexual perversion around in a country where that crime could get you sent to jail for several decades, and Ilya hadn’t thought that Kuznetsov would be that dumb.
Now here Ilya was, watching a video of his fourteen-year-old self on Twitter getting fucked by his former hockey coach.
So. There go the plans for the rest of his life.
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Or: in 2018, during Ilya's last year with the Raiders, an old video is leaked on Twitter. Ilya reacts, or overreacts. Shane does, too.
Series
- Part 20 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic