crazy_for_bats
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Summary
Ilya get's added to Montreal WAG chat
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Don't Call Me a Stranger by bluebox_dragon
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
08 Jan 2026
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Summary
It was just like the conversation about laundry the day before, and organizing the book shelf the day before that. Growing pains, his mom had said when he’d called to complain yesterday about how infuriating Ilya could be, how stubborn and particular he was. His mom had made a comment about the kettle calling the pot, Shane. Shane had found an excuse to cut the call short after that. He was not being stubborn, Ilya was.
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A fight over loading the dishwasher leads to Shane learning about about Russian diminutives, and the meaning of names.
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contingency plans by anincompletelist (soldouthaz)
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
18 Feb 2026
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Shane's eyes squeeze closed again. “We had reason to put rules in place. Protocol. If ever—if it got to a place where, if he was ever feeling like he might—"
Hayden’s body understands before his mind catches up. His blood runs cold for a second, stuck on the scrunch of Shane’s face, the clench of his fist, how desperate he’d been to see Rozanov—Ilya—just now. To make sure that he was okay. Here, in person.
Not hurt. Alive.
“Oh,” Hayden hears himself say distantly. “Oh, fuck, Shane.”
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or, Ilya needs a place to go, and Hayden's happens to be the closest. It turns out to be a good thing.
Series
- Part 1 of all lights turned off can be turned on
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safeguard by anincompletelist (soldouthaz)
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
07 Mar 2026
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Summary
Hayden only recognizes the signs because he’s seen them in Ilya.
Series
- Part 2 of all lights turned off can be turned on
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Summary
Another red light.
“Ilya?” Shane leans closer this time, brushing his knuckles lightly against Ilya’s jaw.
“Where does it hurt?” His voice is tight, urgent. “Talk to me.”
No answer.
Ilya’s head has tipped toward the window again. His lashes rest against fever-flushed skin, cheeks burning red under the passing streetlights. His breathing is too shallow — each inhale catching faintly at the end like it hurts to pull air in.
“Ilya?” Shane presses. “Hey. Tell me where it hurts.”
Nothing. The silence slams into him.
“Fuck—” His hand tightens on Ilya’s thigh. He gives it a firmer shake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. No. Ilya. Hey.”Ilya doesn’t get sick often.
But when he does, it’s never small.
Fever is the one thing that can kill him.
He knows it. The doctors know it. The ER staff knows it.
Shane doesn’t.
And Ilya would like to keep it that way.