history, huh?

you'll be mine (and I'll be yours)

theprinceandagcd

https://archiveofourown.org/works/77454956

Summary:

Ilya hums, playing the card he's been considering for this entire conversation. “We could make more interesting, yes? A bet.”

“A bet,” Shane repeats, eyes flashing. “Like what?”

The reporter cuts in. “What about wearing the other player’s jersey?”

They both turn to her, and Shane says, “Like, the loser wears the winner’s jersey?”

“Maybe at the next game in a couple of months?”

“Is a good idea,” Ilya muses, nudging Shane’s elbow. “You will look better in my jersey than in Montreal jersey.

Shane makes a low noise, his eyes holding a bit of a spark when he looks back to Ilya. It’s what Ilya was hoping for—the tiniest crack in the mask. He can see a hint of exasperated affection around the corners of Shane’s eyes, a little bit of fire burning just beneath the surface. It sends a thrill down Ilya’s spine, and he wonders if Shane will be snarky when Ilya gets him naked tonight.

“That’s not happening,” Shane replies, shaking his head. “Because you’re not winning.”

---

but now you're home (I'm never gonna leave you now) | 9.8k | M

The beach is always changing. Alex finds it ironic that this is the first time in his life he's letting himself sit still, and it’s in a place that is never the same twice. Waves come in and replace the sand and silt with every swell. People leave behind footprints that mix and overlap and then wear away. Sand castles are built, destroyed, and built again differently. It's a place consistent in its inconsistency. But for now, it's home. Or something like it.

but now you're home (I'm never gonna leave you now) | 9.8k | M

The beach is always changing. Alex finds it ironic that this is the first time in his life he's letting himself sit still, and it’s in a place that is never the same twice. Waves come in and replace the sand and silt with every swell. People leave behind footprints that mix and overlap and then wear away. Sand castles are built, destroyed, and built again differently. It's a place consistent in its inconsistency. But for now, it's home. Or something like it.

don't you dream impossible things? | firstprince | 6k words | Rated T

He figured this part of the yacht wouldn’t be crowded—the only thing visible from this side is the river, it's the furthest point from a source of alcohol, and it's the most vulnerable to the evening chill that clings to the surface of the water. So he's surprised to find a lone figure standing on the deck, shrouded in shadows and leaning against the railing, staring out at nothing. The light from the boat and the moon overhead is just bright enough for Alex to recognize a perfectly tailored suit and blonde hair and the sharp cut of a strong jawline. Henry. Of fucking course. The expression on Henry’s face seems almost wistful in a way that Alex recognizes and feels drawn toward. The gentle breeze and relative quiet make the air feel like an embrace, like a stolen fragment of calm, shrouded in melancholy and the relief of finding space to breathe. So maybe it would be fine. Maybe it wouldn't be a fight. “You know,” Alex says before he can second-guess the impulse, taking a step closer. “If you're trying to make your Titanic dreams come true, this really isn't the place to do it.”

don't you dream impossible things? | firstprince | 6k words | Rated T

He figured this part of the yacht wouldn’t be crowded—the only thing visible from this side is the river, it's the furthest point from a source of alcohol, and it's the most vulnerable to the evening chill that clings to the surface of the water. So he's surprised to find a lone figure standing on the deck, shrouded in shadows and leaning against the railing, staring out at nothing. The light from the boat and the moon overhead is just bright enough for Alex to recognize a perfectly tailored suit and blonde hair and the sharp cut of a strong jawline. Henry. Of fucking course. The expression on Henry’s face seems almost wistful in a way that Alex recognizes and feels drawn toward. The gentle breeze and relative quiet make the air feel like an embrace, like a stolen fragment of calm, shrouded in melancholy and the relief of finding space to breathe. So maybe it would be fine. Maybe it wouldn't be a fight. “You know,” Alex says before he can second-guess the impulse, taking a step closer. “If you're trying to make your Titanic dreams come true, this really isn't the place to do it.”

don't you dream impossible things? | firstprince | 6k words | Rated T

He figured this part of the yacht wouldn’t be crowded—the only thing visible from this side is the river, it's the furthest point from a source of alcohol, and it's the most vulnerable to the evening chill that clings to the surface of the water. So he's surprised to find a lone figure standing on the deck, shrouded in shadows and leaning against the railing, staring out at nothing. The light from the boat and the moon overhead is just bright enough for Alex to recognize a perfectly tailored suit and blonde hair and the sharp cut of a strong jawline. Henry. Of fucking course. The expression on Henry’s face seems almost wistful in a way that Alex recognizes and feels drawn toward. The gentle breeze and relative quiet make the air feel like an embrace, like a stolen fragment of calm, shrouded in melancholy and the relief of finding space to breathe. So maybe it would be fine. Maybe it wouldn't be a fight. “You know,” Alex says before he can second-guess the impulse, taking a step closer. “If you're trying to make your Titanic dreams come true, this really isn't the place to do it.”

don't you dream impossible things? | firstprince | 6k words | Rated T

He figured this part of the yacht wouldn’t be crowded—the only thing visible from this side is the river, it's the furthest point from a source of alcohol, and it's the most vulnerable to the evening chill that clings to the surface of the water. So he's surprised to find a lone figure standing on the deck, shrouded in shadows and leaning against the railing, staring out at nothing. The light from the boat and the moon overhead is just bright enough for Alex to recognize a perfectly tailored suit and blonde hair and the sharp cut of a strong jawline. Henry. Of fucking course. The expression on Henry’s face seems almost wistful in a way that Alex recognizes and feels drawn toward. The gentle breeze and relative quiet make the air feel like an embrace, like a stolen fragment of calm, shrouded in melancholy and the relief of finding space to breathe. So maybe it would be fine. Maybe it wouldn't be a fight. “You know,” Alex says before he can second-guess the impulse, taking a step closer. “If you're trying to make your Titanic dreams come true, this really isn't the place to do it.”

by theprinceandagcd a Heated Rivalry fanfic

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov Characters: Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Pre-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Secret Relationship, Bets & Wagers, Shane Hollander Wears Ilya Rozanov's Hockey Jersey, Possessive Ilya Rozanov, Light Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, The jersey stays ON during sex, Established Relationship

Summary:

Ilya hums, playing the card he's been considering for this entire conversation. “We could make more interesting, yes? A bet.”

“A bet,” Shane repeats, eyes flashing. “Like what?”

The reporter cuts in. “What about wearing the other player’s jersey?” They both turn to her, and Shane says, “Like, the loser wears the winner’s jersey?”

“Maybe at the next game in a couple of months?”

“Is a good idea,” Ilya muses, nudging Shane’s elbow. “You will look better in my jersey than in Montreal jersey.” Shane makes a low noise, his eyes holding a bit of a spark when he looks back to Ilya. It’s what Ilya was hoping for—the tiniest crack in the mask. He can see a hint of exasperated affection around the corners of Shane’s eyes, a little bit of fire burning just beneath the surface. It sends a thrill down Ilya’s spine, and he wonders if Shane will be snarky when Ilya gets him naked tonight.

“That’s not happening,” Shane replies, shaking his head. “Because you’re not winning.”

--- Ilya should have known better.

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Snippet:

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