21 – 40 of 48 Works in Pre-Relationship
- Pre-Relationship ×
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trying to reason with hurricane season by Anonymous
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-02-26
Two days.
Shane and Rozanov filming together, surrounded by the CCM filming and design team, none of them aware that their star rivals were secretly fucking every chance they could. That every game the world saw them go head-to-head in was only foreplay, leading to apartments and hotel rooms. That the heated rivalry between them was inching further and further away from rivalry, and toward something entirely different.
Two days in sunny, perfect Florida.
Or, a joint CCM shoot set in sunny, perfect Florida gets derailed by a natural disaster, and Shane and Ilya are forced to spend actual time together, forced to imagine a future. They find that it’s quite impossible to reason with hurricane season, but that the effects are better than they could have hoped for.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 32,431
- Chapters:
- 4/4
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79730211
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A Cat By Any Other Name... by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-21
Svetlana gets Ilya a cat hybrid "as a present."
Ilya just wants to know why his kitty speaks bird, constantly "has the zoomies", and is anxious about literally everything.
- Part 1 of Cheetah Shane
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,960
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79982486
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Tuna Melts and Longitudinal Studies by OpalApparition
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types, Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-19
I (26M) want to invite man I sleep with (26M) to my house to spend the weekend. Help me not ruin it. Or: Ilya Rozanov goes to the internet for dating advice
- Part 2 of Opal's Social Media AUs
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 20,175
- Chapters:
- 9/9
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #79396206
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Rose faces a problem. Svetlana may be the answer.
- Part 12 of [challenge] Heated Rivalry Febuwhump 2026
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,398
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79140586
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Irina flees Russia with 9-year-old Ilya, hoping for a new start in Canada’s capital. While she is working through asylum paperwork, Ilya runs into a boy his own age in the hallways of a government building.
- Part 1 of what’s the price of being young
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,747
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79087771
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Ottawa, 2010. Canada wins the championship, and Shane slips away from the overwhelming celebration for some peace and quiet. Russia loses, and Ilya runs from his father’s furious disappointment to have a panic attack in the stairwell. Neither boy is really looking for company, but for a tentative few hours in the middle of the night, they find solace, acceptance and a first kiss, first time prelude to something heated and risky in each other’s arms. **** Ilya leaned in with lips pursed and Shane jerked away, “Whoa! What the hell are you doing?” “You do not want kiss?” Ilya frowned. “You stare at my mouth all night, same as after draft. I thought you wanted kiss.” “No.” Shane’s eyes were wide. “That’s insane.” “Okay.” Ilya stood up, hiding how bad the rejection hurt. “I misunderstand. Sorry. Do not worry, I will not say anything about–” “Wait.” Shane’s grabbed Rozanov’s arm at the last second, gathering all his courage, “Y- yes.” “Yes.” Ilya repeated. “What is yes?” “I mean yes.” Shane pulled him back in slowly, carefully, his heart racing. “Kiss me?” January 2010 Ottawa, Canada The party was loud. The championship had been hard won and well earned and the celebration was out of control. The players were cheering, jumping, hugging one another high off the win, the boys were spinning, laughing, shoving one another drunk on the adrenaline, some actually were high off smuggled in weed and others actually were drunk off punch spiked from not very secret flasks, and the coaches and chaperones were all too busy congratulating each other and themselves to pretend to care. Champions. Trophy winners. They were at the top of their game and feeling on top of the world, and the fever pitch excitement combined with the delirious exhaustion of a too long, too intense, too physically mentally emotionally grueling few weeks of tournament shook the walls of the multipurpose conference room on the basement floor of hotel. The noise was deafening, the chaos of it all dizzying, the crush of people and body heat and clamor of conversation suffocating and in the very middle of the room– –in the very middle of the room, team Captain and tournament MVP and all around Canadian Wunderkind Shane Hollander stared down at his glass of electric red punch and tried his fucking hardest not to throw up. “Hollander! We did it! We fucking did it!” Someone pushed into him, fell into him, grabbed him into a messy, sloppy hug and planted a messy, sloppy kiss on his cheek. Teammate. A buddy. Shane had played with him for years. “Shane Hollander! Second in the draft son, good for you! You make us all so proud!” Someone shook his hand, squeezed his palm, pounded at his shoulder. A parent. A chaperone. They’d known Shane since he was sixteen. “Wouldn’t be the player he is without a great coach!” Right in his ear, bellowing over the noise. Shane knew he was supposed to smile, supposed to agree, supposed to pound the no doubt spiked punch and whoop at the top of his lungs and let go – let loose– now that the work was over and the tournament was finished and he had another trophy and medal to put in his room. Instead, “I gotta find the bathroom!” he announced to no one in particular, cos no one fucking cared. They were lost in the party, reveling in the victory, but it was too much hammering against Shane’s head, too much crushing around his body and his stomach was twisting, head pounding, chest too tight, holy shit he had to get out somewhere and get some air. Out of the multipurpose room and into the hall. Down the hall and right past the bathroom. He ditched the cup of punch in the nearest water fountain and broke into a jog down the generically ugly carpeted corridor and by the time he crashed through the door leading to the stairwell, Shane was running. Gasping. He yanked at his tie and scrubbed at his face, rolled his shoulders and popped his neck and told himself to breathe. Started up the stairs to get to his fourteenth floor room and told himself to breathe. Huffed a self deprecating sort of laugh because Shane Hollander jogging up fourteen floors worth of stairs instead of partying with his teammates was exactly the sort of over dedicated, wet blanket, fitness and work ethic obsessed bullshit everyone expected from him so– so whatever. When his parents asked sort of sad and sort of resigned about why he hadn’t stayed to celebrate with his teammates and revel in the end of his juniors era, when they told him he probably should really definitely enjoy these moments of silliness and fun while he still could cos come fall he’d be playing professional and have to lock in, when his parents couldn’t hide how they worried about him isolating and clicked their tongues about him avoiding his long time teammates in favor of running stairs alone, Shane would call it a work out. He’d call it dedication. He’d brush it off and wave them away and tell them he might have gotten second at the draft but he was gonna be first in the league, rookie of the year, and to make that happen, he couldn’t party, he had to train. He certainly wouldn’t tell them how the noisy crowd and pushing unhinged behavior made his skin crawl and lungs seize up and head hurt, no way. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was just dedicated. Just focused. It was fine. He was fine. Nine, ten, eleven, floors up and Shane actually started to feel fine. The stairwell was soothingly monochromatic and cold enough to be clarifying, easing the clamor in Shane’s head until he felt like he could think again. His shoes didn’t make any noise on the concrete steps and landing after corner after landing after corner was empty, the doors to the adjoining halls all closed, it was a half hour till midnight so anyone who wasn’t partying in celebration was sequestered in their rooms mulling over their loss and packing for the trip home. It was nice. Peaceful. Space to move and space to breathe and twelve floors up Shane was starting to feel like maybe he wouldn’t just collapse face first onto his bed and scream, maybe he’d have the mental energy to watch a movie or read a little bit in his book, or– Noise in the stairwell up ahead, and Shane slowed at the door for the thirteenth floor landing, paused waiting to see if he heard the noise again, then peeked around the corner bracing himself so he could try and be passably polite to whoever had inadvertently interrupted his single minded dash up the stairs. Ilya Rozanov. It was Ilya fucking Rozanov sitting just below the next landing blocking the stairwell with his body turned sideways taking up a whole step, an unlit cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other… and tears on his face, reflecting the light from his phone, tracking down his cheek and dripping off his chin, landing wet on the cold concrete below. Shit. Shane came around the corner cautiously, curiously, fidgeting with the string on his hoodie as he asked, “Rozanov?” Ilya jumped when someone spoke at him from just a few feet away. He hadn’t heard any door open, he hadn’t heard any footsteps coming up the stairs and he jumped cursing when the empty echoing cold of the stairwell was shattered by the unexpected intruder.
- Part 5 of Heated Rivalry
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,284
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78900926
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It’s not going viral because Jane’s true identity was exposed—or even because Ilya was blatantly sexting in public. That part’s as expected as Shane doing yoga or any human being on earth breathing. No, the texts are going viral because no one can believe how bad this “Jane” is at sexting. The women of the world are outraged. The men of the world are baffled. No one can understand why Ilya Rozanov, whose abs have their own fan club, is wasting his time on ‘a piece of cardboard that wished to be turned into a real girl’ (this particular joke has 300k likes and counting). Or: After a social media trend mocks Shane's sexting skills, he tries to improve them. It goes about as poorly as you'd expect. Now available in Russian
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,196
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #78242831
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81 - ROZANOV by OpalApparition
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
2026-01-21
They were always Rozanov and Hollander. Last names like armor, like the numbers on their backs, 81 and 24, nothing more. Then: tuna melts, ginger ale, and Shane.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,988
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #78061431
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──★ ˙🏒 ̟ !! Where Shane doesn’t think he played well, when in reality he did, and spirals into a panic attack and stumbles into Hayden’s arms who does what he can to help his best friend. Even if it means calling Lily- who’s not… Lily?
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,851
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77940261
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Ilya's POV for I Like Jane For You
The same mix-up leaves Ilya with someone else's boring phone for three days. It does not contain as many secrets. It does contain more Hollander, more pregnant nudies, and it comes with constant annoying updates from Hayden Pike.
- Part 2 of Haydenov Phone Swap
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 12,988
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #77861736
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I’ll Talk (Like You’re Not Listening) by OpalApparition
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
2026-01-16
Hi. This is Ilya. I will never listen to your voicemail. The greeting wasn’t a joke or an exaggeration—it was the truth. Shane leaves messages anyway, confessions to a digital void that will never judge him, and never push him away. At least, that’s what he thinks.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,259
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77637436
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After a mix-up leaves Hayden with the wrong phone for three days, he ends up learning more about Ilya Rozanov and his secret girlfriend, Jane.
Another Hayden-Finds-Out, because we can't have too many.
*now with the extra continuing Hayden-Rozanov friendship text threads*
- Part 1 of Haydenov Phone Swap
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 17,661
- Chapters:
- 4/4
- Files:
- 7 versions
- AO3:
- #77323121
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i’ll believe in anything by getalittleclosey
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-02
“Shane. Towel?” Shane didn’t understand the question. Yes, a towel would be good. Many towels would be good. Preferably covering all of Ilya immediately. ~ the x factor live shows with lots more hollanov than actual singing
- Part 3 of The GCU Factor
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 11,994
- Chapters:
- 3/3
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76561196
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“I'm serious. We can’t just—what, you want us to dress up and wander into Times Square like idiots? To celebrate the New Year? In public?” “See?” Rozanov grins wider. “You already understand concept." “You are unbelievable.” “And you,” Rozanov counters, leaning in just enough to steal Shane’s attention again, “are very boring.” ---Shane and Ilya, in the middle of their will-they won't-they, ring in the New Year together.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 11,865
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76838441
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Shane and Ilya are still learning parts of each other. Shane drops for the first time. With a timid knock on the door, Shane barely had time to regret it before it swung open. He was greeted by an already shirtless Ilya, eyes dark and intent, hands already on him, tugging him over the threshold like Shane might vanish if he hesitated. The door shut behind them with a solid click, sealing them off from the hallway, the sound sharp enough to make Shane suck in a breath. Their lips crashed together immediately. Messy, desperate, all teeth and breath. Shane made a small, broken noise into Ilya’s mouth as he was pushed back against the door, palms flattening uselessly against Ilya’s chest as if he could slow this down. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t. Ilya’s grip was unyielding at his hips, grounding him even as Shane’s pulse skittered wildly. The door was cool against his spine, a brief shock before heat swallowed him again. Clothes were handled poorly, fingers fumbling, tugging, snagging fabric in growing impatience. Shane whined when Ilya pulled away just long enough to drag his shirt over his head, chasing his mouth like he was starving. They stumbled toward the bed, half-falling, half-laughing, refusing to fully separate even as barriers were peeled away and dropped to the floor. Shane’s hands shook as he reached for Ilya, breath already coming too fast, chest tight with need. “Rozanov—” Shane begged when Ilya finally pulled back, the loss of contact making his head spin. Ilya quickly shushed him, thumb pressing firmly under Shane’s chin, forcing him to look up. His expression softened just a fraction before he kissed him again, slower, deeper, like he was claiming him. Shane melted instantly, knees threatening to give out. The bed hit the backs of Shane’s legs and Ilya didn’t hesitate, guiding him down with a steady hand between his shoulder blades. Before the hit the bed Ilya flipped him, Shane landing on his hands and knees. Ilya pushed him down, hand smoothing down his back as Shane practically collapsed onto the mattress, chest pressing into the pillows. Shane shifted restlessly, hips rocking without thinking, already chasing friction. The sheets bunched under his fists as he let out a shaky breath he couldn’t seem to control. “Good, Hollander.” The words hit him like a switch. Shane went pliant, then restless again, caught between melting and writhing. Ilya muttered something low in Russian, the sound curling around Shane’s nerves as he kissed his shoulder, then along his spine. When Ilya blanketed over him briefly, the weight made Shane groan, back arching instinctively. “Please,” Shane breathed, barely audible, not even sure what he was asking for anymore. Ilya shifted back, hands firm on Shane’s thighs, kneading into muscle with deliberate pressure. Shane shuddered at the touch, breath breaking when Ilya leaned forward. A helpless whine tore from his throat, loud and unfiltered, his hips jerking forward before he could stop himself. “Shane,” Ilya warned quietly, but there was amusement threaded through it. “I can’t—” Shane gasped, words tangling as Ilya worked with maddening patience. His fingers clawed at the sheets, knuckles white, every nerve screaming for more. “Rozanov, please, please—” “Relax, Hollander. I’ve got you.” Ilya’s voice was calm, grounding, infuriatingly steady. Shane’s nerves were already sprinting ahead of him, frantic and oversensitive, his body trembling under Ilya’s hands. The soft click of a cap made Shane jolt despite himself, a sharp inhale tearing out of him. “So jumpy today,” Ilya mused, spreading warmth over his fingers. Shane swallowed hard, hips rocking again, unable to stay still. “I need you,” he said, voice breaking. “Rozanov please, I need you inside me.” “We prep first.” Ilya kissed the base of Shane’s spine, lingering there just long enough to make Shane whine before pulling away. When the pressure finally came, Shane gasped, forehead pressing into the pillow. “That’s good,” Ilya murmured. “Relax.” Shane tried. He really did. His hands fisted tighter in the sheets, breath stuttering, every inch of him buzzing with sensation. Heat crawled up his spine, pooling low and sharp, his body betraying him as he pushed back instinctively, desperate and uncoordinated. This angle was too much. Everything felt sharper, deeper, overwhelming in the best and worst way. His eyes glazed over before squeezing shut, mouth falling open as a broken sound slipped free. “Rozanov—” Shane cut himself off with a whine, the name dissolving into noise as Ilya murmured something approving above him, hands steady, presence firm, letting Shane unravel at his own frantic pace. ———————- Ilya shushed him again, voice firm this time, cutting through the static in Shane’s head. “You’re okay. Let me in, Hollander.” Shane nodded, or thought he did. Everything felt disconnected, like his body was several seconds behind his thoughts. The pressure built and shifted until it tipped him clean out of himself, sensation blurring into something too big to hold all at once. “Are you ready?” “Please.” The word fell out of him raw and automatic, stripped of meaning except want.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,940
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76755951
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That was how he found himself sitting at the bar, a few days before the All-Star game, alone. Around him, groups of other players that he vaguely knew were all talking and laughing together. It was for the best, he had to tell himself to stop the jealousy from eating him from the inside out.
- Part 1 of trans shane hollander chronicles
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,449
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76735006
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Give Me Your Skin (I Need Your Warmth) by RighteousPunk
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-30
Lily: Wanna do actual bet? Maybe it was Shane’s competitiveness being struck like a match at the mere thought, maybe it was because their one and only bet, six months before in Las Vegas, had resulted in Shane touching himself for Rozanov. The result was the same: Shane did not consider what kind of terrible idea Rozanov could come up with before replying. Jane: What kind? Lily: Accuracy shooting competition Jane: Ha I always beat you there Lily: Not this year This year I win And you wear my jersey Or: Shane loses a bet and has to wear Ilya's jersey.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,999
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76706831
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“Board games,” Ilya said, kneeing them higher up his chest. Shane stared at him. “You travel with those?” he asked, trying to go for scathing. It never quite got there. He didn’t have Ilya’s skill. Ilya smiled wide and shark-like. “No,” he said. “I got them from Emily. Mrs. Lansow.” Shane felt even more baffled. “The owner of the hotel,” Ilya said. “I know,” Shane said. He just couldn’t imagine Ilya interacting with that sweet woman. Or her asking him to call her by her first name. “Why? I mean, why did you get them?” “You have better things to do?” Ilya asked. “I have a phone. And a laptop. And there’s a television,” Shane said. Ilya squinted dismissively. “Screen is bad. Melts your brain.” “You sound like my mom,” Shane said, a little softer than he intended and smiling reluctantly. Ilya tilted his head. “This does it for you?” Shane and Ilya learn what it's like spending time together with their clothes still on.
- Part 1 of perfect from now on
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 12,344
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76527896
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dude, we’re getting the band together by getalittleclosey
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-12-26
“Still boring Shane.” Ilya disappeared to the kitchen and came back with his bottle of vodka and five glasses. “We play truth, dare, sing. If sing, must drink.” “My parents-“ Shane started. “No. Boring. Get you boring buzzer. Bzzz,” Ilya interrupted before he could respond. ~ Shane invites the band to his parents’ cottage for rehearsal and cozy games. The rest of the boys have other plans for their week of freedom.
- Part 2 of The GCU Factor
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,942
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76440676
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i met you in the toilet by getalittleclosey
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-24
“I don’t think you’re supposed to smoke in here. And you know that’s bad for your voice, right?” Shane needed to learn how to keep his mouth shut in front of cool Russian boys with the prettiest hazel eyes he’d ever seen. ~ Shane and Ilya meet on The X Factor and get put into a boyband.
- Part 1 of The GCU Factor
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,119
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76359951
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