Zephyrrr

HEATED RIVALRY WEEK 2026 DAY FOUR: Favorite Location - Moscow Tunnel

Pairing: Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 9.5k this chapter; whole thing circa 40k 50k 60k 70k send help

Tags: Time Loop, because the only thing better than Tuna Melt Day is unending Tuna Melt Day, Fluff and Angst, Internalised homophobia (I'm Shane Hollander nice to meet you), As little actual hockey as I could manage, Feelings Realization, Love Confessions, Shane Hollander Is Bad at Feelings, Ilya Rozanov is not much better, what's in a name, an awful lot as it turns out, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, just don't ask them to confirm or deny that, Hayden Pike is a good friend, coming out, love confessions, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Anal sex, D/s vibes because we've met these guys before

Ilya's alarm wakes him with a breath that shakes out of him and eyes that want to water and full of love down to the core of him, the body and breath and undeserving soul of him. It's too much: far, far too much and he doesn't know how he's supposed to be able to stand it, how he should get up and move around and live his life carrying something this big along with him with every step. He sits up in his bed and laughs in a single, wet sound; sniffles like a child. He'd imagined an end to this ever repeating bubble of time in so many ways, but none of them had ever stretched disbelief far enough to include hearing the words I love you said to him like that, like it was natural and obvious and inevitable and entrenched as deeply in Shane as Ilya fears his own love for Shane lives in himself. He plays the words over and over in his head and wonders if he imagined it; if maybe he has lost his mind, after all.

Cinematic parallels: Heated rivalry x Cars 2

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, ~6k 

“Stop saying dick pic,” Shane hissed. “This is harassment.” He glared at the bulge in his pants. “You are harassing me.” “I do not know what this word means.” “How fucking convenient for you.” “Aw, Hollander,” Rozanov said, but he sounded a little contrite. After a beat, he asked, “Do you want me to stop?” “Don’t you fucking dare stop,” Shane said through clenched teeth, surreptitiously palming himself to take the edge off. It didn’t help. “So do you want my dick or not?” Rozanov asked after another beat.

But Ilya has to leave eventually and they can’t really say goodbye at the airport, so it has to happen at the cottage. They barely sleep the night before; too busy talking and cuddling and making plans. There’s a lot of kissing too, and that slow, lazy fucking in the early hours of the morning when time pulls like taffy and nothing feels real.

There’s some more fucking once the sun has risen, waking them from their tangle of covers and limbs—though this time, it’s more desperate; the end is approaching fast, after all, and they won’t see each other until well into pre-season at the earliest. The kissing and cuddling feels charged in a way it hasn’t before, and they can’t stop touching; in bed, in the shower, making breakfast, eating. Ilya playfully pinches Shane’s side as he’s brushing his teeth.

And then it’s time to go.

They spend a long time kissing in the entrance. It feels like they should be rough, maybe a little desperate—definitely rushed—but it’s slow. Almost painfully sweet. They eventually drift apart with Ilya gentling his thumb over Shane’s (now sun-darkened) freckles like he’s trying to commit them to memory. “A month is so fucking long,” Shane mumbles. Ilya nods and leans in again.

They do eventually make it out of the house and are only a little bit late in doing so. Shane goes at or a little below the speed limit; as long as Ilya isn’t in danger of missing his flight, there’s no fucking rush. They’re on the 50, just past Amherst, when Shane turns off the highway onto a tiny, overgrown road, pulling off to the side to be hidden from the highway. He parks the car with his hands still firmly at ten and two, frowning out the windshield. Breathing slow. Controlled.

Ilya looks at him. Hasn’t stopped looking at him. “Ah, so it was murder all along,” he jokes.

Shane manages to scoff at that, cracking a smile. And then, yeah, they discover that the back seat is way too small for fooling around in.

The rest of the drive is spent with the windows down and Ilya’s hand on his thigh, right up until they get to airport drop-off. They find a quieter spot far from the door and look at each other. “A month,” Ilya says. “Not so bad.”

“Yeah.”

“We have done worse.”

Shane nods. Chews his lip. Ilya starts gathering himself to leave. Shane’s been practicing his pronunciation in the bathroom but… whatever, fuck it. “Hey,” he says, grabbing Ilya’s hand. Fuck, he’s already blushing. “Lyublyu tebya.”

Ilya’s eyes widen and his face turns bright red, his fingers spasming around Shane’s. He looks so fucking happy Shane wants to bundle him up and drive right back to Quebec. Ilya shakes his head a little, awed. “Not fucking fair,” he breathes.

“Call me when you get home? And text when you’re at your gate and have landed and stuff.”

Ilya still looks a little dazed as he nods. He squeezes their joined hands and licks his lips and stares at the airport doors like they’re going to fucking eat him. “I… yes, okay, I will…” he turns to Shane with an earnest, almost pained expression. “I love you, too.”

Shane cannot stop himself from smiling. “You’re gonna miss your flight.”

“I am not that lucky.”

A laugh. “Get outta here, Rozanov, geez.”

“You will miss me when I’m gone,” Ilya teases back, though to Shane it doesn’t feel like a joke.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I will.”

Ilya presses his lips together. “Okay. Okay, I have to—”

“Yeah.”

“And I’ll call.”

“Okay.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Bye.”

Shane was going to throw up.

No, really, he was going to throw up. He could feel the bile rising in his throat as his panicked breaths came out faster and faster.

He had just left the meeting with coach Theriault, Marcel, and Greg Vance, in which he was basically told that he shouldn’t bother coming back to finish the season, and that he should get his things and go.

It wasn’t like Shane thought they’d renew his contract next year, but not letting him finish the season? That was a new low.

A voice in his head, one that sounded suspiciously like Ilya, wanted to smile and wish Theriault good luck winning this year without him. But Shane simply swallowed his tears and left the office without saying anything.

Fuck, he needed to get his shit together. He was still the team captain, no matter what Theriault and Vance said, and he needed to talk to the team. Explain, let them know what’s going on.

Fuck, they’re going to hate him.

All he wanted at the moment was to curl into a ball against Ilya back home, block everything and everyone else. He wanted his fucking fiancé, wanted to hold his hand and rest his head against his chest, wanted the feeling of safety that came from being near Ilya.

Jesus, he wanted Ilya so bad right now.

His fiancé had offered to accompany him, but Shane declined, knowing that having Ilya there would only make things worse with his team. Hayden had tried to make it sound better than it probably was,but Shane knew they were furious with him.

Fuck.

He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t breathing right, his head was pounding almost as hard as his heart, and his limbs felt like they were stuck in cement.

He was going to die right here. What a shame to die so young. Shane had always taken care of his body, careful not to eat or drink anything that would harm it, and yet he was going to die at 28 years old right here in the hallway.

Shane hadn’t noticed that he had sunk to the floor, back pressed against the wall, until he felt two arms shaking him lightly.

“Shane?” Hayden’s worried voice reached his ears. “Shane, can you hear me?”

Shane managed to nod lightly, his head tucked between his knees.

“Ok. You- You are having a panic attack.”

No shit.

“Do you want me to call-”

Shane shook his head. As much as he wanted Ilya to be here right now- and god, he wanted that so bad, he didn’t want to worry the other man more than he already had. Besides, he can handle this. He will handle this, the moment he stops breathing like a cat with asthma.

“Ok, did the-” Shane could hear the hesitation in Hayden’s voice. “Did the meeting not go well?”

Shane struggled to hold in a choked sob. When had he started crying? He needed to get his shit together.

“I am done here,” He managed to say through panicd breathes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, they won’t-”

“They told me not to come back,” Shane let his anger fuel him, managing to lift his head from between his knees to look at his best friend, who was kneeling beside him. “I can’t even finish the fucking season.”

Hayden stared at him as if Shane had grown a second head. “No way, that’s- that’s insane-”

“Apparently, they really don’t want to have a fag on the team,” Shane let his head drop back against the wall. “Fuck, I- Hayden, I don’t know what to fucking do.”

“Hey,” Hayden grabbed his arm. “No. That’s- They are just being stupid right now, ok? They’ll- they’ll realize that they made a mistake in no time. You are the best player this team has ever seen. They will not let you go so easily. Vance is a dick, but there is no way he is that stupid.”

Shane knew that Hayden was wrong. Vance was that stupid. He would rather let Shane go and cost the team this season than allow him to play after what he had learned.

Nevertheless, having Hayden there, talking to him and grabbing his arm, helped Shane calm down a bit and ground himself.

“Vance would rather kill himself than have a fag play on his team.” Shane’s voice was a bit steadier now. “But that’s- that’s ok. I mean, not ok ok, but, I- we thought it might happen. I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t say that,” Hayden said instinctively. He looked torn between anger, guilt, and sadness. The three emotions battled for their place across his face before he shook his head, as if trying to throw them away. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll probably go play for Ottawa,” Shane confessed. “Andlauer had already reached out to me earlier this year. They are three players short of their cap, and they can definitely afford me. It’ll be... It’ll be nice, playing with Ilya. Together.”

Despite the shity situation, Shane felt a ghost of a smile tug on his lips at the thought of playing with Ilya, of waking up next to him every single day.

As if he could read his mind, Hayden smiled at him. “Shit, man, I’m happy for you. I mean- this is a shit situation, and this whole thing is fucked, but you and Rozanov on the same line?” He shook his head. “Maybe Ottawa will finally win for the first time in forever.”

He smiled when his joke dragged a laugh out of his best friend. “So, how do you want to do this? Do you want me to talk to the guys, or-”

“No,” Shane took a deep breath and lifted his head to meet Hayden’s eyes. “I’ll do it. Still the captain for now, right?”

“Damm straight,” Hayden agreed. “Or, I mean, not straight, but you know-”

“Hayden.”

“What?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“On it!” Hayden stood and offered Shane his arm to pull him up. “Hey, you know that I’ll always be here for you, right, man? Like, even if you’ll play for Ottawa or fucking Boston, you’ll always be my best friend.”

Shane blinked away his tears before giving Hayden a small grin. “You’re just afraid of losing your best babysitter.”

“That too,” He smiled at him as they started walking to the locker room. “So, how do you want to do this?”

That was a great question. The truthful answer was that Shane absolutely did not want to do this and would have preferred very much to just go home to his fiancé. However, he couldn’t run away from this. His team deserved an explanation.

“I’ll be honest with them. There really is nothing else to do, I mean, at the very least I can explain myself to them.”

Hayden frowned. “You don’t have to explain shit to them.”

Shane sighed and shook his head. “Feels like I do.”

They walked together silently until they reached the locker room. Shane drew a big breath.

In. Out. In. Out.

“Wish me luck,” He attempted to copy one of Ilya’s signature smirks, but the expression on Hayden’s face told him that it probably looked more like a grimace.

He opened the door.

The room was silent.

Wow. Great. Wonderful start that 100% helped ease his anxiety regarding this situation. Fuck his life.

Shane cleared his throat as if to draw everyone's attention, but there was no need for that. All eyes in the room were already on him.

Hayden slipped quietly behind him and took a seat near his locker, looking at Shane with an expression that was probably meant to be reassuring, but at the moment made Shane feel like a prisoner on death row awaiting execution.

“I, uh,”

Great start.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way,” He started. “I wanted to talk to you before, but...”

“Sure you did,” Andropov snorted.

Shane Elected to ignore that.

“I didn’t want you to find something else through the news, so,” Shane fidgeted with his hands behind his back, staring at the wall above Wilson. “I will not be finishing the season here.”

The room was still silent.

“I want you guys to know that it was not my decision. I have been... It was an honour, playing for this club, playing with you. This decision was made for me, and I truly wish you guys the best of luck.”

Olsson mumbled something.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“I said, Finally, some good decisions from Vance.” Olsson stared at him with hatred Shane had never seen on his teammate’s face before.

“Olsson, shut the fuck up,” Hayden interjected.

“Of course, you stand up to the fag. Probably bends over for you, too, huh?”

“That’s out of line,” Shane interfered before Hayden started throwing punches. “You are allowed to be upset, but-”

“Upset?!?!” Comeau stood up. “You have been throwing away games for your little boyfriend just so he could fuck you in the ass, and you talk about being upset?”

Wow. Fuck no.

“I have never thrown a single fucking game,” Shane began to feel angry. “I never have, and I never will. Just because Ilya and I are together does not mean we go easy on each other on the ice, and you of all people should know that, Comeau. Or did you conviniently forgot that your girlfriend’s brother is Cale Wagner?”

“That’s different, and you know it. I don’t suck her brother’s dick.”

Maybe you should, you might inherit some of his talent through his dick, that will be helpfull you talentless motherfucker. The voice in his head, Ilya’s voice, said.

Shane ignored it. “I don’t see why it is. I have played against Ilya countless times, just like you played against Cale. No one has ever accused you of letting him win, so what’s the difference here?”

“Oh come on, do you think we’re stupid?” Drapeau threw his arms in the air. “We have eyes, Captain. You want us to believe that, what, you suddenly don’t know how to skate when he’s around?”

“Excuse me?” Shane blinked, becoming furious. “I still have the highest scoring rating and puck possessions than all of you. I have more assists this year than in any year before at this time, and I have scored multiple times against Ottawa, while Rozanov was playing.”

“And yet we don’t win against him,” Drapeau rolled his eyes. “You think we are stupid? You get dicked down at the beginning of the season, and suddenly you can’t play against Rozanov?”

Shane was getting tired of this bullshit.

“I play against Rozanov the same way I always have. He is one of the best players this league has ever seen, and yes, when you play against someone that good, sometimes you lose. Saying he needs me to throw away a game for him to win is not only ridiculous but downright stupid.”

“Oh, please, we all saw the difference.”

Shane was so done. He did not care anymore, not about this team, not about those people, not about what they thought about him.

“Saw what exactly? Because I have been ‘dicked down’ by Rozanov since before our rookie season, you dense, idiotic asshole.”

You could hear a pin drop.

“Rookie season?” Laine asked. “But that’s-”

“Almost ten years, yeah. So, if you want to accuse me of misconduct, that means the three cups I won for this team are invalid. Because it has always been him. It was never anybody else, and I still managed to drag this team to the top.”

Shane looked around the room at the people he had called his friends not very long ago, and felt nothing. No sadness, no shame, just... Empty.

“There isn’t a single person here who knows a version of me that isn’t in love with Ilya Rozanov. I have loved him since before I joined this team, and I’ll love him much longer after I leave it. So you can be upset, you can call me a fag and decide that everything I have given for this team means nothing, but deep down, you all know that I never lost on purpose. Deep down, you know I love this team. You know I chose to stay here instead of moving to Boston, even though they offered me a whole lot more money. You know I stayed here instead of living with the love of my life. You know I have sweated and bled for this team, so don’t pretend like you don’t know me, because I am the same person I have always been.”

“I just don’t understand why you had to go and fuck Rozanov of all people,” Berkes shrugged. “Like, there were no good men here?”

“Berkes, you are married to a woman from London. You are literally moving there at the end of the season to be with her. You of all people should know that you don’t get to choose who you fall in love with. It just... Happens. And for me, it was Ilya.”

“I just-”

“No, I’m not done talking,” Shane cut him off. He no longer felt shame or embarrassment, but instead, a red-hot fury coursed through his veins.

“Every single one of you is able to go home to your wives and girlfriends. You have a safe space, a person who knows you better than you know yourselves. And if you don’t have one yet, then you have the freedom to go out there and find them. You get to have a life outside of hockey. You get to be happy and fall in love and live. Why the fuck shouldn’t I? I have given everything for this team, and you want to tell me that... what? I should live the rest of my life lonely because that would make you more comfortable? Fuck no.”

“You could have told us-”

“Wilson, you don’t know shit about what I could or couldn’t do,” Shane cut off the defence player. “Even if I wanted to- and I didn’t, because I was afraid you would react the same fucking way you are reacting now- did any of you think for a single moment about the fact that Ilya is from fucking Russia?”

The room was silent.

“Huh? No? That’s weird. What, Wilson, you are telling me you wouldn’t share a secret that would endanger Roby’s life? How weird.”

Shane looked around the room, staring each and every player in the eye. He was done being afraid; he was done being ashamed. They should be the ones cowering their gaze, not him.

“Come on, Stedlund, you wouldn’t tell us you are dating Thalia if it meant she could never go home again without the threat of dying? That’s not friendship.” He shook his head in mock offence. “What about you, Berkes? Would you share your secret with us, even if it meant Shila would never be able to visit her mother's grave again? And you, Comeau,” Shane paused to make sure the goalie was looking at him. “You would feel safe sharing a secret that could very well mean Katie would be kidnapped and killed? Because I sure as shit hope you wouldn’t.”

“none of those things would have-”

“No? Abdulmezhidov Adam Isaevich. Abdulkerimov Side Ramzan Ramzanovich. Alimhanov Islam Aliev. Tsikmaev Sultanovich Ayoub. Yusupov Shamhan Shayhovich.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Olsson asked.

“Those are five people who were kidnapped, tortured, and killed for being gay in Russia. Five out of hundreds, and those are just the ones that were reported. You want to tell me again how I’m overreacting? Because I would like to believe that none of you would risk having your wives and girlfriends endangered like that.”

Shane was breathing hard, and for once in his life, he didn’t hold back.

“The love of my life could be taken from me at any moment. Russia can revoke his right to be here, kidnap him, take him away from me and everyone who loves him- and I wouldn’t know. They could charge him for being gay, take him to prison where-” Shane felt the tears in his eyes, and let them flow. They have already seen him raw and broken. What’s the harm in letting them see him cry? They couldn’t possibly hate him any more than they do now. “Where people don’t fucking come back.”

Shane stared at the stunned faces around him, at the men who never saw him so emotional and real in their 9 years of playing together, and started laughing. He could see Hayden eyeing him in concern, but he couldn’t possibly stop, now that his laughter was mixed with sobs.

“What the fuck am I doing?” He said between fits of laughter. “Why the fuck am I even explaining myself to you? I don’t owe you shit!”

While he dubbled over laughing, Shane absently wondered if he had finally lost his mind.

“Ilya, the love of my fucking life, could be taken from me at any moment. I left him at home, knowing he is not safe, to come talk to you guys. Why the fuck did I do that?” Shane wiped away his tears, unsure if they were tears of laughter or sorrow. “I spent years on this team. I met every single one of your girlfriends and wives. I babysat your kids. I have sweated and bled for this team- hell, I won us three fucking cups. Why am I talking to you like I owe you something? This team owes me everything they have!”

And the thing was, that they did. That the Voyageurs were nothing before Shane, and would be nothing when he leaves. Why should he fight for a spot on this team? They should fight for him. They should be the ones feeling scared and embarrassed. They should be the ones begging him to stay after what he had just been through, not the other way around.

If they want to ruin it for themselves, who was he to interfere? Let them dig their own graves; he will spend next year making sure they’ll never leave it.

Shane turned to leave the room, but turned around and looked at the rookies who were sitting there in shocked silence. “I’m sorry you were drafted here. I know you had big expectations, dreams about winning the cup and making friends. I am really sorry that this is what you get instead.” He looked around the room one last time, allowing a bitter smile to curl on his lips. “Good luck next season, huh?”

And with that, Shane Hollander left the Montreal Voyageurs’ dressing room for the last time.

Shane broke down before he reached his car.

Usually, he found statistics comforting, reassuring. But knowing those statistics about Russia, about what very well may happen to Ilya if he ever goes back there? Shane sometimes wished he could forget them, just to be able to sleep through the night.

He managed to drag himself inside before collapsing against the steering wheel and crying uncontrollably.

Despite everything he tried to tell himself, he did care. It did hurt. Those people were supposed to be his family, and...

His shoulders shook with the force of his sobs.

“Shane,” A familier russian voice spoke softly.

What was he doing here?

“What are you doing here?” Shane managed to choke out.

“Apparently, Pike is not completely useless. He text me that things don’t go so well.” Ilya said in a soft voice, lifting his hand to caress Shane’s cheek.

“Don’t go to Russia.”

“Wasn’t planning on doing so,” Ilya frowend. “Sladkiy, what’s going on?”

Shane leaned into the touch. “They told me I can’t finish the season.”

“What?!?” Ilya exclaimed, looking furious. “Which debil told you that? I kill them.”

This managed to get Shane to smile. “You can’t kill people, Ilya.”

“Yes I can. Am scary Russian. Very easy.”

Shane chuckled.

“It was management. I was basically fired.”

Looking at his fiance’, Shane could see the internal war in him. On one hand, Ilya was enraged, and probably did want to march straight into the training center and deck Vance in the face. On the other hand, Shane was still shaking, and he knew Ilya wouldn’t leave him like this.

Shane was correct, of course. Ilya shook his head and kissed Shane, giving him a little smile. “Very good that Metros are stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because now I get you with me. Now you don’t need to think about where you want to play next season. Metros are stupid so I get to have you.”

Shane gave him a small smile. “Well, I still have options. I was thinking about the Chicago Bears-”

“Not funny.”

“A little funny.”

“Zero funny. Very boring joke. Because I know even if you don’t like being second best, you will still will come play in Ottawa.”

“Second best?” Shane raised his eyebrow.

“Da. Will be difficult, going from being the best by far in team to second best, but you’ll be ok. We will get cups so you feel happy.”

“Oh, yeah? How many cups are we gonna get?”

“All of them,” Ilya said confidently, wiping Shane’s face clean with his sleeve. “You and me? We will win everything.”

“Sounds good.” Shane smiled. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“You sure you don’t want me to kill them? Will be very fast.”

“Ilya.”

“I can also just scare them. Say I have big russian friends coming to say hello.”

“Ilya.”

This Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Interview where he says that maybe Top Gun is his first gay role (pic taken from drrav3nb’s post)

This Interview on Top Gun’s homoeroticism (x)

still your wingman <3 insta post (x)

when val posted an icemav meme on valentine’s day (x)

I've been looking for a picture of this card ever since I rewatched this movie

"He rides a motorcycle without a helmet! He better not be giving Bradley rides on that thing."

"Guy thinks he's God's gift to aviation."

"He's an insubordinate ass and thinks orders are suggestions."

Funny levels increase further if Ice finds absolutely nothing wrong with Bradley's taste in men, but is ALSO completely oblivious to the fact that he feels that way because HE has Bradley's taste in men—

"I've always thought holding onto someone while riding a motorcycle is very romantic."

"Confidence is sexy, dear."

the gays? yup

the sapphics? 100%

my precious few straight couples? love y'all