1 – 20 of 34 Works in Sharing Clothes
- Sharing Clothes ×
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Ilya’s rough days are made easier by Shane – even if he’s not there.
In a world where clothes and other belongings hold power, especially if they are handmade, Shane has more avenues of taking care of Ilya than his mere presence.
- Part 3 of there’s power in a person’s belongings
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 400
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #90582756
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There’s power in a person’s belongings.
In a world where sharing clothes is not just about fabric, Shane has to contend with the fact that he is not supposed to be wearing his rival captain’s clothes (but ends up doing it anyway).
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,848
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #89664636
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So Shane Hollander is, how do you say in English, a dirty little thief. A clothing thief, to be precise. Ilya can't say he saw that coming, but he also can't pretend he's all that mad about it.
His shirt looks good on his Shane. On Shane. On Hollander.
Right. His shirt looks good on Hollander.
- Part 1 of my heated rivalry anon fics
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 21,278
- Chapters:
- 4/4
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76335236
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Who Wore it Best: MLH Boyfriends Edition by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-04-05
Now that their relationship is public, here are several clothing swap moments: from matching outfits to others that are undeniably the same article of clothing. I even threw in some from a few of the other boyfriends of hockey.
OR: A notable tabloid publishes a second piece comparing the shared fashion of Ilya and Shane. This time drawing the correct conclusion that they are, in fact, sharing clothes.
- Part 2 of Heated Rivalry Articles and Reactions
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,364
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #82498701
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Shane stares at the fabric in his hands and takes a deep breath. He’ll never hear the fucking end of it if he wears this thing out. He’ll never hear the end of it if he doesn’t. Lose-lose, really. A whoop sounds out behind him as Shane slips the jersey over his head. It sits awkwardly, though he can’t tell if that’s because the material is brand new or because his body won’t relax. It’s hot, as if the fabric lettering on the back is branding his skin. As if he’ll take off the jersey and be marked for life: ROZANOV. 81. Shane wears Ilya's jersey out in public. Ilya has very strong feelings about it.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,062
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79932816
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Who Wore it Best: MLH Rivals Edition by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-22
Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov are known for their longtime rivalry on the ice. Off the ice, their personalities—and fashion—contrast as well. Rozanov’s monochrome masculine minimalist in sharp relief to Hollander’s fusion of part athleisure, part soft casual.
Their fashion couldn’t be more opposite, which makes it all the more surprising when they are spotted wearing the same pieces. I’ve collected a few of my favorites.
OR:
A notable tabloid publishes this piece comparing how the two rivals’ dichotomous fashion unexpectedly intersects.Now with bonus chapter with Ilya and Shane’s reaction!
- Part 1 of Heated Rivalry Articles and Reactions
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,108
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79957376
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“Are you still cold, moya lazan'ya?” Ilya asks, gently touching his hand to Shane’s thigh to get his attention. “Your what?” He lifts his head from where he’d been resting it against the airplane window, blinking blearily. “Lasagna?” “Yes. Look at you, with all the, uh…” The English word he’s searching for eludes him, so he simply gestures at his husband, clad in a T-Shirt, a hoodie and two jackets, both his own and Ilya’s. The latter is slightly too big even on Shane’s muscular frame, and being wrapped up in it almost makes him look small. _____ While on the airplane on the way home after a series of games with the Ottawa team, Shane is hit hard by the flu. The fever makes him emotional, and Ilya has feelings about that. Incredibly soft feelings.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,889
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78300726
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Ilya dresses Shane in his jersey as Shane cooks dinner - just his jersey, nothing else. Shane stares up at Ilya, his breath catching as he slowly battered his eye lids. His fingers traced Ilya’s muscular chest blinded by tenderness. He suddenly became hyper aware as Ilya holds the jersey like it’s something fragile. Black and red. His name on the back. 81 stitched clean and familiar, still faintly smelling like laundry soap instead of sweat for once. He shakes it out once, then looks up at Shane with a small, private smile. “Stand still,” Ilya says. Shane snorts. “I’m standing.” “Better,” Ilya replies, stepping closer. Shane lets himself be guided without comment. He’s tired — the good kind of tired the type you feel after a long day of training— and pliant in a way he only is with Ilya. He lifts his arms when Ilya tugs his hoodie up and over his head, blinking a little as cool air hits his skin. Ilya pauses. Just for a second. He takes Shane in like he’s memorising him again — the familiar lines, the way Shane’s shoulders slope when he’s relaxed, the way the fabric of his boxers curls on his hips. “You okay?” Shane asks softly. Ilya nods, clears his throat, and slips the jersey over Shane’s head. Fabric slides down warm skin. Ilya’s hands linger longer than necessary, smoothing the shoulders, tugging the hem down so it sits right. He adjusts the sleeves carefully, thumbs brushing Shane’s wrists like it matters. “Turn,” Ilya murmurs. Shane does. Ilya straightens the back, fingers pressing briefly over the stitched ROZANOV and 81, pride flickering sharp and bright in his chest. “My number,” he says quietly, “where it belongs. But.” Shane glances back over his shoulder. “Yeah?” Ilya steps in close, resting his chin briefly against Shane’s shoulder blade. His fingers grip the fabric of Shane’s boxers and slides them down, “There perfect now it looks better on you.” Shane’s mouth curves into a smile he doesn’t try to hide. “You’re biased.” He giggled pulling the fabric of the jersey down to cover his exposed body. “Very,” Ilya agrees. He moves around to face him again, tugging the collar just a little, lining it up the way he likes. Shane watches him with that open, steady attention that still knocks the wind out of Ilya sometimes. “You know,” Shane says, “most people just… hand someone a jersey. You’re making me look like a hockey bunny.” Shane chuckled suddenly feeling self conscious about how much skin he was showing. Ilya shrugs, unapologetic. “Most people are boring and besides you’re my hockey bunny.” Shane laughs softly, then reaches up and hooks a finger into the collar, pulling Ilya just close enough to rest their foreheads together. “Thank you,” Shane says — not just for the jersey. Ilya kisses him, quick and warm, then presses his palm flat over Shane’s chest where the number sits. His hands trail further down grasping the flesh of Shane’s arse like it was silk. Shane let out a gasp at the sudden grasp as Ilya lifted him onto their kitchen island. “Mine,” he says, possessively but certain. “Right down boy unless toy want dinner to burn,” Shane teased pushing Ilya away. Ilya draws his phone careful to not disturb Shane as he’s at the stove, wooden spoon in hand, brow furrowed in concentration like dinner is a hostile opponent he intends to out-think. Ilya’s jumper hangs off him — sleeves too long, shoulders just a little too broad, the hem brushing his thighs revealing just a little bit more skin each time he moved. The collar dips loose at the neck, soft and lived-in revealing a few hickeys that dotted Shane’s collar bone from a few days ago, unmistakably Ilya’s doing. It looks wrong on Shane in the way all the right things do. Ilya lifts his phone without thinking and as Shane reached for the spices, the fabric lifting just enough… Click. Shane doesn’t notice. Not at first. He’s just carefully stirring in the oregano, lips moving as he counts under his breath. Ilya takes another photo — from the side this time, capturing the way Shane’s hands disappear into the sleeves when he grips the spoon. Click. “Are you burning it?” Ilya asks mildly.
- Part 2 of Heated Rivalry Original Plots
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,426
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77963771
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Ilya just looked him up and down slowly. “You do realize you’re wearing my coat right now, yes?”
Shane glanced down at the sleeves covering his knuckles. “Oh. Huh. Must have grabbed it by mistake. We have similar… builds.”
Shane does not steal. Unfortunately, Ilya keeps leaving jackets behind, and Shane keeps reaching for clothes that aren’t his - clothes that smell like smoke and safety.
This is not a problem. It’s just a reasonable coping mechanism for bad games, and it definitely isn’t intimacy. Right?
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,270
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77874976
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Ilya plans to win the Stanley cup and knows exactly how he wants to celebrate. OR While teasing Shane, Ilya shares a fantasy where his boyfriend wears a Rozanov jersey. Shane struggles with the conflicting feelings this fantasy evokes. -- Ilya pulled one hand to Shane’s knee and began to walk his fingers up the man’s thigh, now playing at nonchalance, even as his voice deepened. He held Shane’s gaze, capturing his full attention. “Imagine it. I finish the game, I celebrate on ice with my team, I hold the Cup up for cameramen to get good shot of me. I go to the press conference. I go to the after party… Then I come home…” “And I’m in your bed wearing only a Rozanov jersey, yeah? Number eighty-one?” Ilya grinned, dropping another open-mouthed kiss on Shane’s belly, never breaking eye contact. “I knew you would understand.”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,853
- Chapters:
- 5/5
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76720271
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shane hollander's guide to bottom prep by bisexualbuckley
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-11
Ilya shrugs and runs his hand from Shane’s waist down to his ass and back up. “But you are so good at it. What is English saying? Having it with science?” “Having it down to a science.” “Exactly. Some things come natural to you, yes? Doing your bottom prep stuff. Taking my cock. You are perfect bottom. Made to be bottom. You love to be bottom.” “I do. I love it.” Shane swallows, reminded of exactly where he is and what he’s doing, a cautiously confident smile on his face as he starts to ride more with his legs than his hips. “And you thought I would throw it all away for some Taco Bell.” OR; shane hollander's foolproof bottom prep routine and how his lovely boyfriend takes care of him
- Part 1 of hollanov bottom prep <3
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 13,028
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75821841
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Was it Love or Fear of the Cold That Led Us Through the Night? by vixwixandtix
Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-01-10
"Nothing is running. It is a fucking blizzard," Ilya tried to sound calm, but he was still kind of freaking out. "What time is your flight back?" Hollander asked, still facing the window. It was hard to read his tone without seeing his face, although far be it for Ilya to complain about the view. "Probably not until afternoon, if planes take off at all tomorrow," Ilya admitted. "What hotel are you staying at?" "The Hyatt over by the rink," "Yeah, you'll never make it back there tonight," Hollander muttered. They didn't stay. It just wasn't something they ever did. As soon as they were done, one of them was out the door and back to wherever they were supposed to be in the first place. But surely Hollander wasn't about to send him out into a literal blizzard with no way to get back to his hotel. Ilya put his phone on the nightstand and stood up, tentatively approaching where Hollander remained frozen staring out into the snowy abyss that had once been the city of Montreal. "Is it okay that I stay here?" "Well yeah, you're gonna have to, man, there's no way you're getting back tonight," Hollander replied like Ilya was being slow.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 19,201
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75950001
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spin silence into gold by Marleycat
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-07
“Boston captain Ilya Rozanov is coming off an impressive game versus Pittsburgh with two goals and two assists. Will he be able to maintain his momentum as the season goes on, keeping dynamic Metros’ Captain Shane Hollander under him?” If they only knew how wrong that was. ---- Ilya's plan to get Shane to stay over had been going so well until a scared Shane ran away. Ilya tries to deal with the fallout when he is left alone, realizing how deep he is falling for Shane. When he makes it to Shane's cottage, nothing will keep him from shedding a tear or two over shopping lists, shared clothing, dental hygiene, and having someone be the one to take care of him again, finally.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,338
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77242796
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It's the morning after Shane and Ilya confessed their love to one another. The cottage is calm, warm and slow in the morning, and they both feel lighter. This is their forever now. They have every intent to steep in it, soak in doing even the smallest tasks together. or Shane and Ilya are disgustingly in love and at complete ease. It's a full morning in the bubble they have spent years earning. There was a stillness in the cottage in the morning after Shane and Ilya said ‘I love you’ for the first time. It was impossible for the sun to miss any part of the house. It was lit entirely in the early morning light, the sun not fully risen. It painted every surface a warm orange and melted the blue sheets of Shane and Ilya’s bed into a deep brown color as the two slept. Ilya had fallen asleep on Shane’s chest, having slotted himself between Shane’s legs and pressing his chest to Shane’s stomach. Shane’s hand was tangled in Ilya’s curls, having fallen asleep while playing with them, and breaths escaped his lips as he slept deeply. Ilya stirred first, as he had fallen asleep first, and he quickly took in the state they were in. The sun had woken him. He still wasn’t acclimated to the natural lighting that the cottage provided. His eyes blinked open and he felt his heart race as he woke up. It wasn’t unusual for him to wake with a wave of anxiety, usually from a nightmare he had no recollection of by the time he opened his eyes. The only evidence was his pounding heart and uneven breath. He felt the thin layer of sweat on his back and pulled his outstretched hand toward his body, it closing onto Shane’s bare waist instead of his own and he took a deep breath. Right. He’s here. Shane’s here. Ilya relaxed his shoulder, he hadn’t even noticed how tense they were. He licked his lips and he could feel how dry his throat was. They must have sweat throughout the night. Shane was a large heater, which Ilya still needed to get used to. He wanted to get to it. To be able to complain about Shane being too warm. But for now, he knew to relish in it. The privilege to sleep so close to Shane, to be so close he could taste his sweat when he breathed him in. Ilya lifted his head and Shane’s hand slid from Ilya’s hair to the nape of his neck as Shane took in a deep breath. Ilya smiled, he couldn’t help it. Shane, he discovered, always woke up by opening one eye at a time. As if he were trying to catch the sunlight off guard. Shane’s right eye slowly opened as his left squeezed shut. Ilya pressed his lips together, trying to hide his smile which he assumed was shit-eatingly wide. But he couldn’t as Shane’s cheeks warmed to a blush and his left eye opened. They locked eyes, Shane’s still a bit droopy from sleep. “Good morning.” Shane managed, his voice was grovel and a bit rough, he definitely wasn’t used to talking so soon after waking up. “Morning.” Ilya whispered back, leaning up to kiss Shane. “Ah, we haven’t brushed our teeth.” Shane lifted his hand between their mouths. “Yes, but I love you and you love me. So we kiss with dirty mouths.” Ilya kissed Shane’s hand. “Ilya.” Shane warned. “Shane.” Ilya lifted his eyebrows. “Please.” Shane lifted his back. “Fine.” Ilya sighed, dropping his head to Shane’s chest and peppering kisses onto his chest instead. “Let’s brush our teeth.” Shane let out a little noise and Ilya smiled against his skin, wanting more than anything to just stay in bed all day and kiss their confessions into each other’s mouths until it felt normal and stale because they had spent so many goddamn years stopping themselves from saying it. From feeling it. But he knew that Shane wouldn’t allow that, that he would want to freshen up, be as clean as they could be before they tasted each other again, and that is why he loved Shane. Ilya planted a hand on either side of Shane and pushed himself up, leaning back onto his heels to admire Shane as he was laid out on his back. “You look pretty.” Ilya caught his bottom lip between his teeth in a teasing grin. “Shut up.” Shane sat up, swinging his leg around Ilya and standing up rather gracefully for someone who had just woken up. “Hm, never.” Ilya tilted his head, though Shane’s back was to him, and crawled off the bed. Shane turned toward Ilya and offered his hand once they were both standing, Ilya’s heart could burst at how casual and normal it felt to slip his hand into Shane’s and intertwine their fingers so they could walk into the bathroom together. Ilya walked half a pace behind Shane so he could admire the slight curve of Shane’s back as they walked. Shane’s back was absent of any flaw, not a scar or freckle in sight, just a perfect plain of warm, rich skin. Ilya wanted to kiss every inch of it. The bathroom wasn’t far, maybe even too close to their bed for Ilya’s liking, so Shane was already letting go of Ilya’s hand. Ilya pouted slightly and caught Shane’s gaze in the mirror. Shane smiled and rolled his eyes and Ilya smiled back. “Do my toothbrush?” Ilya asked cutely and Shane scrunched his nose. “Please?” “You have hands.” Shane shot a half-assed glare in the mirror, but immediately softened when Ilya wrapped an arm around him and pressed his fingertips against his plush belly. “Yes, but they are busy.” Ilya kissed Shane’s shoulder, knowing he had won whatever this little chirp was, and turned to hug Shane’s side fully, planting more kisses onto his shoulder and arm. Shane only hummed happily, pulling Ilya’s toothbrush from its holder, where he had insisted Ilya to put it only three days before, wet it, squeezed toothpaste on, then wet it again before he held it up to Ilya. Ilya planted a wet kiss on his shoulder then turned, opening his mouth for Shane. Shane huffed and nudged Ilya’s chest with his elbow. Take it. Ilya just jutted out his chin and opened his mouth a bit wider. Shane rolled his eyes and pushed it into Ilya’s mouth. Ilya quickly caught it with his left hand and began to scrub, resting his head on Shane’s shoulder as Shane prepared his own toothbrush. Shane’s eyes were down, but Ilya lazily brushed his teeth as he waited for Shane’s eyes to shoot up to the mirror to analyze his own face. Shane did exactly that, but his eyes shifted to Ilya’s gaze immediately. The analytical look in his eyes softened to nothing but a swirling pool of a rich hot chocolate and Ilya smiled around his toothbrush.
- Part 1 of I Love You...
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,262
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77219511
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Shirt swapping or jersey swapping is a tradition in sports where players of opposing teams swap jerseys with each other at the end of a match as a sign of mutual respect.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,245
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77158706
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Ilya trips during practice and gives himself a bloody nose. Shane can never ever know why. Translation into Русский available: Faceplant ∞ Пропахал носом by PANDAR
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,363
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76689596
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wear me like a secret by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-05
Ilya walked into the bedroom, stuttering to a stop in the doorway as he saw the rucked up bedding. He forced himself to move again, intent on making a beeline to the shower. Instead his eyes snagged on the neatly folded pile of clothes on the leather chair in the corner of the room. A brown jacket, a white tee-shirt, a pair of black jeans, even a pair of crew socks, stacked neatly, waiting.
As if he were being reeled in, Ilya approached the chair and watched from outside his own mind as he ran a finger over the clothes, as if testing their reality. He pulled the jacket from the bottom of the pile, lifting it to his nose and inhaling slowly as he crouched low. He squeezed his eyes shut again, swallowed past the lump in his throat, and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.
- Part 1 of
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,722
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77111506
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The Devil Wears Rozanov by noedovenest
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-04
"On the ice, he acted quick. Found the puck fast, moved to the net faster. Years of experience had honed his reflexes into second nature. But here, off the ice, wearing ROZANOV on his back like some doe-eyed puck bunny in the stands, his brain short-circuited completely." Or: Shane accidentally wears Ilya’s shirt into the locker room. “Oh.” Ilya rested his head back on the pillow, looking over at Shane. “So you are the asshole.” A wide smile stayed frozen on Shane’s face. He couldn’t help it. “No, it’s still you.” “No, it’s not me.” Ilya feigned offense, thumb stabbing toward Shane. “You’re the asshole.” He sat up an inch and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Everyone! Shane Hollander is an asshole!” Shane’s grin was starting to hurt his cheeks, his laughter coming easier than it had in months. He gave Ilya a playful shove, sending him tumbling back into the pillows. In an accent that had begun to fade, Ilya added, “I am feeling too good to lose tonight, anyway.” “Oh yeah?” Shane turned onto his side, propped on an elbow. “’Cause I’m feeling pretty good too.” “No shit,” Ilya murmured, sliding a hand beneath the sheets to squeeze Shane’s thigh, spurring an echo of pleasure that still clung to the edges of his mind. Sunlight soaked their bare chests, a rarity when their time together was usually isolated to late nights and unfamiliar hotel rooms. It felt better than Shane was willing to admit. Almost normal. The thought sobered him. In reality, they were both supposed to be on the ice in a few short hours. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, eyes widening. “Shit, Ilya. We’re late.” Ilya’s eyelids had gone heavy, an arm flung over his face. “Hm?” “I need to get back to my hotel for pickup,” Shane hissed, kicking the sheets aside. Behind him, Ilya groaned, long and dramatic. How he’d earned the captaincy with his complete indifference to punctuality baffled Shane. Then again, no one seemed to mind when he kept dragging Boston to victory night after night. It took effort not to marvel at him in those brief moments from the bench, the way he made it all look effortless. Their clothes lay in a heap by the bedroom door. He hadn’t even folded them. Shane scooped up half the pile and tossed it across the room, a pant leg smacking Ilya in the cheek. “Sorry.” “Liar,” Ilya groaned, expression pinched as he slipped free of the sheets and stretched, arms reaching overhead. Shane was already tugging on his sweats, shirt slung over his arm, when he caught sight of Ilya dangling off the edge of the mattress. Light brown curls stood in every direction, a faint sheen still clung to the dip of his spine, a wrinkle pressed into his skin. For a moment, panic gave way to something softer. There were few things he allowed to disrupt his routine, and Ilya had held the top spot since they were eighteen. Shane crossed the room in a few long strides, leaning in to press a firm kiss to his lips. “See you soon, Rozanov.” Ilya’s hand came up, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him closer, deepening it. "Stop trying to distract me,” he murmured against Ilya’s mouth. “Stop trying to leave,” Ilya countered, fingers twisting into Shane’s hair, tugging lightly. It was almost enough to convince Shane to crawl onto his lap and see how quickly they could fit in round two. Or was it three? Shane bit back a sigh. “Tonight?” Ilya’s jaw ticked. “Tonight.” The distance Shane was forced to put between them had grown harder to bear lately, recent confessions weaving new threads into place. He’d ask him soon, about the cottage. Two uninterrupted weeks, no deadlines, no schedules breathing down their necks. Ilya would probably say no. But what if he didn’t? “Go,” Ilya said at last, breaking the kiss. Part of Shane was grateful, because he wasn’t sure he had the willpower to do it himself. The absence of Ilya’s touch settled in immediately, a dull ache that followed him as he turned for the door. There was a mindset Shane liked to settle into before a game, and he was struggling to reach it. It was clouded, inevitably, by the memory of Ilya’s hands roaming over bare skin, teeth at his neck, the way he’d murmured filthy encouragement as they found their rhythm and slipped into Russian when they lost it. Maybe it was for the best that they didn’t make a habit of afternoon meetings. This was torture. Traffic was thick, and Shane tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, eyes flicking to the clock again and again. Was time moving faster today? By the time he’d parked and sprinted up to his hotel room, there was barely enough time to pull on dress pants and shrug into a high-end suit jacket over a wrinkled shirt. It didn’t quite meet dress code, but he’d rather take the hit for that than further fuel Hayden’s theory that he’d been late because he was with a woman named Lily. A woman Shane had vehemently denied existed. His protests had sounded less convincing lately, and maybe he’d stopped caring if they did. Theriault waited outside the bus, and Shane was already apologizing before the coach could get a word in. “My bad, Coach.” “First for everything I suppose,” Theriault grunted, giving him a look that lingered somewhere between concern and curiosity. Shane was the captain. He was supposed to set
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,922
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77061116
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Funny How It Found Us by tippitytap
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-12-31
The 5 times Shane and Ilya share a domestically boring task together for the first time.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,894
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76781551
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without changing a part of me by gurlsrool
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-12-31
"We could have some fun tonight. You, wearing my clothes…” “Shut up,” Shane says, annoyed by the thrill the words send through him. Life would be so much easier if he wasn’t wrapped around Ilya Rozanov’s finger—or fingers is probably more accurate. Or: 5 times Shane didn’t plan on stealing Ilya’s clothes, +1 time he absolutely did
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,089
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #76708056