The temperature is rising, the ice is melting, and it's time to start this challenge! Tension, chemistry, unresolved feelings, and everything that simmers beneath the surface — we are so up for tha! We are expecting some really HEATED rivalry during this challenge. If you know what we mean... 😉
Detailed description of the contest rules
✍️Rules for Authors:✍️
✔️ Write a story with a minimum of 1000 words.
✔️ Work must be based on Heated Rivalry fandom but crossovers are welcome!
✔️ Translations are allowed!
✔️ You can participate with as many stories as you wish.
📖Rules for Readers:📖
Read any work(s) from the contest and leave your feedback. Support the authors and share your opinion!
🚫 No AI;
🚫 Don’t publish anything that violates the Rules of the website.
❗If you have any questions left, please kindly contact Support. We will be glad to help you out!
He learned to gauge the danger by the sound of a bottle opening. Stolichnaya was bearable: his father drank slowly and would fall asleep in his armchair by midnight. Russky Standart was worse: he drank fast, and the "talks" would start. But Pertsovka, the pepper vodka, was for his darkest days. Then he'd be completely silent. Ilya hated Pertsovka. It didn't just smell like vodka—it smelled of fear, sticky and sweet, like his mother's valerian drops.
Or: Ilya's Childhood.
Spending time among elderly men, elegant ladies, and wealthy elites did little to flatter Elian—even if the gathering was held in his honor. An award for his modest—or perhaps not so modest—person. So when a message from his boyfriend arrives, he leaves without hesitation, driven by feeling, a pounding heart, and trembling anticipation in his fingers. His rule of “always keep a cool head” fades the moment he gets into a taxi and gives the hotel address.
The Canadian kingdom of Elingard is on the verge of a change in power. Prince Shane is the legitimate heir, raised for the throne, flawless and cold. His future has long been decided—both for him and against him. His rival is Ilya Rozanov, the king's illegitimate son, who grew up outside the palace and its protocols. Formally, he has no right to the throne, but his appearance changes the balance of power. The rivalry for the crown turns into a dangerous closeness, where the choice between power.
Shane has loved his childhood best friend, Ilya, for years—but Ilya became his rival in every way. Even as Ilya confesses his love, Shane’s father stands as an unyielding obstacle. Can their love survive ambition, rivalry, and family expectations?
In the heart of a merciless Alaskan winter, Shane Hollander struggles to survive both the ice and the weight of expectation. The rink is a frozen battlefield—wind tearing across the surface, lungs burning with each inhale, lips purple from the cold. Training is relentless, but Shane’s battles aren’t just with the ice or the puck.
Cute AU: where Ilya and Shane are sworn enemies in public, constantly teasing each other on the ice, but in private, they are lovers who support and comfort each other.
“Believe me, in Russia this day is practically Doomsday. If you come home without flowers or sweets, you no longer have a home,” Rozanov frowned and turned the phone screen towards himself. “When I was a kid, I got tons of valentines from girls. But even a little version of me, would envy that one you gave me.”
Shane wants to spend Christmas together.
Ilya knows exactly why that is impossible.
A Heated Rivalry story about desire, denial, and what happens when love collides with fear, violence, and the reality of being seen
Shane learns what a real Russian summer cottage is and decides to try his hand at "national sports". Arugula, flower beds, a little chaos — and a lot of love, which manifests itself in the simplest things.
Shane visits Ilya in Ottawa after the 'Centaurs' lost and finds him curled up on his bed, while a woman on the phone speaks something in Russian. An incredible plan forms in Shane's head
Or
The story of how Shane Hollander read fairy tales to Ilya Rozanov at night.
When pain can no longer wound, when the world crumbles to fragments, when you stand solitary in a foreign land… might a miracle, as in a fairy tale, offer salvation?
I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it that you’re not around. And the fact that you didn’t call. But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
After the 2014 Olympics, the guys met not at the awards ceremony, but at a match.
P.S. Pairing is important! I'm a veteran; whoever's on top gets first.
P.S.2. AI was used for the translation.
There may be errors.
