Mkrakn
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this is how i want to love you, cover to cover by allforyoumylove
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV)
20 Jul 2026
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Summary
“Don’t–” Ilya starts, already reaching, already cupping Shane’s face between both hands, thumbs warm and tender against his cheekbones like they’ve always belonged there.
Shane’s eyes are big and gorgeous and genuinely curious. “Don’t what?”
Don’t make me look like a lovesick idiot. Don’t make my heart trip over itself for a way out of my chest and into yours. Don’t say it like that—so fucking sincere—like you don’t know how devastating it is for me.
“Don’t butcher my language,” he says instead and kisses Shane’s smile hard, like reflex, like gravity, like there was never going to be another option.
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Shane sets out to learn Russian. Ilya discovers he's incapable of keeping his composure.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,960
- Chapters:
- 2/2
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- 583
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- 14,070
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Bookmarked by Mkrakn
20 Jul 2026
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And yeah, Shane knew that Ilya hadn’t been okay last time he was in Russia, but Ilya had had the very real excuse of a funeral to blame things on. Ilya had downplayed it as much as he could, and Shane hadn’t been there, he’d heard the fatigue and he’d seen Ilya’s tired smile, but he hadn’t felt the way Ilya’s hands were cold the entire time he was there, hadn’t seen through the screen the way Ilya dropped eight pounds in three weeks, hadn’t kept time when there were twenty hours in Ilya’s day instead of something closer to sixteen. Or, on the flip side, for the week or two after, when there had been approximately ten conscious hours in a day.
It was one thing to see something. It was another to feel it in your hands.
Ilya and Shane are so, so happy for their first year married. They’re playing in Ottawa together, they’re fucking winning, they’re together and out.
So now, after a year, Ilya should be fine. He should be great. He should not be flinching at small noises or nearly punching people off the clock or feeling like he’s drowning whenever he’s not on the ice.
Or: Ilya Rozanov, meet your PTSD.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 58,246
- Chapters:
- 13/13
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- 696
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- 1,359
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- 555
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Bookmarked by Mkrakn
20 Jul 2026
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Hit the crossbar three times: left, right, center. He couldn’t leave without doing it and any time he missed he would complete a lap, as hard and fast as he could, and then come back and reset.
Left. Right. Center.
Hayden and JJ would occasionally stay to practice with him, and neither of them understood this particular practice. “Let’s go, Shane,” Hayden would whine, half-exasperated and half-fond, “Jackie has dinner waiting.”
“Mon capitaine,” JJ would laugh, “are we going to stay here all night?”
“That’s why my shots go in,” Shane would shoot back, as JJ would shake his head. “You should try it.”
While he did stand by the positive effect it had on his aim—statistically he did have the highest shot accuracy in the league nearly every season—even he could admit, it got to be annoying. Especially if for whatever reason Shane just couldn’t hit the three shots in the row. He’d stayed an extra hour on accident before, swearing as he lined up the pucks to hit, again and again and again.
But there was something about the ritual that he couldn’t let go of. That quest to end practice with perfection, to have control over something. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Left. Right. Center.
Bookmarked by Mkrakn
17 Jul 2026
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Summit Position by Xoarnitehle
Fandoms: Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
16 Jul 2026
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Summary
Shane Hollander is one of the best search and rescue specialists in North America. He doesn't do private clients. He doesn't do rich adrenaline junkies with camera crews and a death wish. He does, apparently, do forty thousand dollars when his parents need it badly enough. One week on Karanov's summit should be simple. Assess the snowpack, make the call, go home. Then the storm rolls in, the helicopter can't fly, and Shane is stuck in an eleven by nine foot ranger station with Ilya Rozanov — Olympic gold medalist, professional daredevil, and the most infuriating man Shane has ever met.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 46,405
- Chapters:
- 3/3
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- 319
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- 1,534
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- 569
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- 16,016
Bookmarked by Mkrakn
16 Jul 2026
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It was a Friday when the video dropped.
“What is happening?” He asked St Simon, who was holding his phone tight to his chest, his expression odd. “Someone has died?”
Across the room he could see Marlow moving slowly upright from where he had been doing floor stretches, his phone in his hand as well, his face pinched.
“It’s Hollander,” St Simon said.
The bottom of Ilya’s stomach fell out, closely followed by the rest of Ilya’s organs. His chest hurt so acutely that he thought he must be having a heart attack.
“Not dead,” St Simon added quickly, reaching out to grab Ilya’s shoulder when Ilya’s knees actually buckled. “Jesus, sorry. I should have - no it’s just -”
“Someone tell me what the fuck is going on,” Ilya snapped, “and everyone else shut up.”
Marlow reached him now, held his phone out to Ilya, open already to an article with a headline huge enough Ilya could easily make out the HOLLANDER blaring out of it even before his eyes focused and he took the phone from Marlow.
A video is posted online, for Shane it feels like a death sentence. For some parts of him, it is.
- Language:
- English
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- 73,245
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- 6/6
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- 245
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Bookmarked by Mkrakn
15 Jul 2026