blithesea
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Summary
We won’t release a statement right away, someone from the front office said, but if you’re missing a couple games there’s going to be questions. What are we going to call it? A family emergency?
Ilya had almost laughed. What emergency? His father is already fucking dead.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,463
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Comments:
- 135
- Kudos:
- 1,636
- Bookmarks:
- 409
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Bookmarked by blithesea
24 Jun 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
The briefs get tangled up around his legs, fabric audibly sticky. The hunch of his spine reeks of embarrassment – blood in the water for people like them, who grew up in locker rooms, measuring bodies against each other. How did this kid survive, Ilya wonders sometimes. A younger Ilya would have crushed him into tiny freckled faggot pieces and laughed about it to his friends after.
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prinesi myach by probablylily for naturalprey
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
23 Jun 2026
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"You trust me?" Ilya asks, once, easy. Shane nods without even thinking. Ilya throws the ball. Shane watches as it flies in an arc across the yard. Cookie isn't even back yet. "Prinesi myach."
Shane doesn't recognize the Russian. Just looks at Ilya.
"Go on," Ilya says, like Shane's stupid for still standing there. "Go get it."
"What?"
"Go get me the ball. Myach."
———
Ilya didn't tell Shane that he's watching a dog for the weekend. Shane isn't upset about it, and he definitely isn't jealous.
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Lovers, I Guess by tackytiger
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
05 Mar 2026
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Summary
Ilya's on a hotel roof in the middle of the night. The draft is tomorrow, and he can't sleep.
That's when Shane Hollander appears, but he's somehow thirty-five years old, and acting very friendly... and he's wearing glasses. This must be a dream — mustn't it?
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 14,462
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Comments:
- 482
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- 4,252
- Bookmarks:
- 820
- Hits:
- 31,058
Bookmarked by blithesea
20 Jun 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Ilya knows all the words for it in English, hot and wet and even sloppy, which feels so much better than it sounds, but it’s as he suspected and these words can capture nothing — nothing — of what he actually wants to say, which is that he wants Hollander like this forever
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Summary
"Weren't there any nice men in Montreal?" his dad asks, and Shane stops smiling, stops breathing.
"Yeah," he says. "There were." He wants to ask if there were any nice women at McGill, or any nice babies at the hospital. Ilya's hand is on Shane's thigh, thumb riding just on the edge of acceptable positioning for lunch with his parents. He squeezes. "But none of them were Ilya."
Shane meets a nice man in Montreal. It changes less than you'd think.
Bookmarked by blithesea
19 Jun 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
There's a series of words in Russian, and then Rozanov's hand grips his head, and he's done being gentle.
The rhythm of thrusts is steady and smooth and persistent. Every coach Shane has ever had is echoing in his head. Stay loose. Stay alert. Be ready for it. Trust yourself. Rozanov's cock is insistent in Shane's throat—now and now and now.
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So Shane Hollander is, how do you say in English, a dirty little thief. A clothing thief, to be precise. Ilya can't say he saw that coming, but he also can't pretend he's all that mad about it.
His shirt looks good on his Shane. On Shane. On Hollander.
Right. His shirt looks good on Hollander.
Series
- Part 1 of my heated rivalry anon fics