Hendrix7
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Summary
He sometimes imagined what might happen if he caught it in his mouth. If he moaned at just the right moment so the tiny gold crucifix would fall into place on his tongue.
An accident.
Plausible deniability if Rozanov found it weird.
or
Shane has a lot of feelings about Ilya Rozanov’s necklace.
Bookmarked by Hendrix7
17 Mar 2026
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one sunday morning by somnatic
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
04 Dec 2025
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Summary
At that moment, Ilya knew he was hallucinating, and that he’d hit his head a lot harder than he thought.
Because here was Shane fucking Hollander— in his fucking kitchen, wearing his fucking clothes. He was making borscht.
“What the fuck,” Ilya croaked.
(Ilya takes a rough hit. Shane is there to take care of him.)
Bookmarked by Hendrix7
17 Mar 2026
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It wasn’t fair, because Shane didn’t even do it on purpose. His ignorance was a product of years of repression. They’ve been together for more than a decade, and they’ve fucked, fought, and everything in between — but somehow Shane was still oblivious to the warning signs of his heat. In the days before it came, Shane would pace about the house in a huff; sweat on his brow, gnawing on a candy bar, complaining about a headache, befuddled as to his own state of dysfunction.
He always smelled like absolute fucking sin too. It took all Ilya had not to drop to Shane’s feet, mouth open, tongue at the ready, and offer his enthusiastic services. Ilya tried to do so, early on in their relationship, but Shane kicked him away like he was a nosy terrier, tsked at and scolded for its eagerness to serve.
Finicky little omega. Ilya would die for him, truly.
(Or, the trials and tribulations of Shane Hollander's heat cycle).
Bookmarked by Hendrix7
17 Mar 2026
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A rather large heron waded in the water, its backside mottled in tiger-stripes, tapering at a black head. The bird’s beak struck the water with natural, violent efficiency, its yolk-yellow throat elongated as it gobbled down minnows.
The ladies whispered amongst themselves, scrambling for their iPhones stuffed inside their pockets. Shane, meanwhile, had gone to stand behind the cover of a leafy green plant, positioned perfectly so as not to spook the bird, with a perfect window for a gorgeous photograph.
“That’s a good camera,” the guide commented, watching Shane with the admiring eye of a fellow birder.
Ilya was preening. A preening fucking peacock. He didn’t care if the metaphor was cheesy; he felt like one. He felt like one of those crazy-looking birds from the documentaries Shane liked to watch, birds-of-paradise, with ruffled rumps, faces like parade masks, prostrating themselves in the treetops for love.
(Or, Ilya takes his birding husband on a birding honeymoon.)
Series
- Part 2 of Hollanov Birding AU
Bookmarked by Hendrix7
17 Mar 2026
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“This is just the version I use. Everyone has their preference, but I can send you the Amazon link for this book if you like,” Shane said, while Ilya flipped through the field guide. He stopped on the section on loons, where two different species were illustrated in wading water and mid-flight.
Ilya pointed at one of the illustrations. A sleek dark bird, with white and black checker-board wings and a stark red eye. “We saw this one today, yes?”
“Yep. The common loon. It’s aquatic, so you’ll always find them near water, usually a lake like we just saw. It’s the national bird of Canada, actually.”
“Common. You can find this bird all over?” Ilya asked.
“Around here, at least. It’s my favorite bird,” Shane admitted. “Pretty boring, I know.”
Shane’s shoulders were hunched up, like he was embarrassed to admit that he was the bird guy, who did in fact, like birds.
Well, that would not do. “Boring is good. I like boring,” Ilya insisted.
(Or, Ilya Rozanov, a newly arrived hockey agent in Ottawa, falls for a local birder).
Series
- Part 1 of Hollanov Birding AU
Bookmarked by Hendrix7
17 Mar 2026