mayfriend
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Lestat’s face is blank of everything, but his dark eyes latch on Louis’ own, locked as tightly as a prisoner’s chain. “You left me.”
Louis swallows. “I shoulda left you decades ago.”
Louis gets on the train, Lestat takes him off it. This is what comes after.
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Cliff's Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week (Is Probably Going Better Than Ilya's) by petroltogo
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV)
15 Apr 2026
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It figures that even half-way across the world Ilya's dick manages to ruin Cliff's day. The real surprise is that it isn't the only dick involved in this mess.
Featuring an ill-timed outing, a supportive but clueless team trying its best, panicking over Russia's LGBTQ laws, too many group chats, an unhinged 3am brainstorming session on how to get your captain a new citizenship (asking for a friend) and Roz' inability to answer his fucking phone.
Or: Ilya disappears in Sochi. Half-way across the world his team does its best to help. Their best is more than anyone could have foreseen.
Series
- Part 1 of maximal confusion, some believability
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- English
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- 30,693
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- 4/4
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Bookmarked by mayfriend
28 May 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Ilya Rozanov ✅ @theilyarozanov
what is huzanov↳ hiii and byeeeeee @russianlovemachine91
The ship sails at dawn. It has no name. Those who know will know and they will be there.↳ ↳ Ilya Rozanov ✅ @theilyarozanov
it does not sail↳ ↳ Ilya Rozanov ✅ @theilyarozanov
it will never sail↳ ↳ Ilya Rozanov ✅ @theilyarozanov
the ship is landlocked↳ ↳ Ilya Rozanov ✅ @theilyarozanov
it has always been landlocked↳ ↳ Ilya Rozanov ✅ @theilyarozanov
the ship is in a museum↳ ↳ Ilya Rozanov ✅ @theilyarozanov
it does not move↳ ↳ Ilya Rozanov ✅ @theilyarozanov
like hunter↳ ↳ Ilya Rozanov ✅ @theilyarozanov
the ship is on fire -
Religion's in your lips (en version) by Two_ghostsIW
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
15 May 2026
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— Do you know what you need? — Rose interrupted, resting her elbows on the table. — A boyfriend they hate.
— What?
— I'm serious. Think about it. Imagine their faces if you showed up at home with an alpha they'd never seen before, without asking anyone's "opinion" — she said, making air quotes with her fingers. — And on top of that, one with all the characteristics they hate. They'd be furious, but they'd have to swallow it. It would be perfect revenge.
— You forgot just one tiny detail: I don't have a boyfriend. And even if I did, unfortunately my taste is very similar to theirs. If they hate him, I probably will too.
Rose took another sip of her coffee, observing him over the cup with that expression Shane knew all too well.
— And who said it has to be real?
— No. Absolutely not.
Or: The one where Shane's alpha sisters are a bit controlling because he's the only omega in the family, and so he starts a fake relationship with Ilya just to annoy them.
English version. Text originally published in Brazilian Portuguese.
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- English
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- 11/11
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Bookmarked by mayfriend
26 May 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
"Why did you stop?"
The question came out low.
For a second, Ilya thought he would make a joke. Say he had gotten tired, that he had discovered the thrilling pleasure of studying physical education, that skates were expensive, or any other acceptable escape.
But Shane only let the air out slowly.
"You know why."
"I know part of it."
"The main part."
"I want to hear it from you."
Shane turned his face toward him. His expression was not irritated, but tired. And maybe because of that, Ilya felt the question weigh more than it should have.
Shane looked back at the ice and, for a while, said nothing. Ilya waited.
"I had my first heat in the middle of the season," Shane said at last. "I was fourteen."
Ilya did not move.
"Until then, I was just Shane. The son who played hockey. The fast kid. The one who gave coaches trouble because he argued strategy like he was forty and had three Stanley Cups behind him."
A small smile crossed his face. It disappeared quickly.
"After, I became the omega."
The word fell without drama, and maybe that was why it hurt more.
"It didn't happen all at once," Shane continued. "No one came in and said, 'you can't play anymore because your body now bothers everyone.' That would have been more honest, I think. It was all gradual. First came the concern that I might get hurt. Then the conversation with the coach, the meeting with my parents, the suggestion to take a break, less time on the ice, and then the bench."
He laughed without humor.
"Always with care. Everything always with so much care. That's the part that irritates me the most."
Ilya looked at him.
"Because it looked like protection."
"Because they called it protection." Shane tightened his fingers together. "I couldn't fight it without seeming ungrateful. Everyone talked as if they were doing it for me. As if they were preventing some tragedy. As if I would break if an alpha checked me too hard into the boards."
His mouth twisted.
"Which is ironic, considering I'd been thrown into the boards by alphas since I was eight and no one cared that much before."
Ilya felt his jaw tighten. "Your coach allowed it?"
"He tried to hold on for a while. More than most would have tried." Shane looked toward the back door they had come through. "We both knew my hockey career was over, that the NHL doesn't accept omegas. But I could have had a few more years in the junior league. He said I was still one of the best, that the team needed me, that it could be adapted. But he didn't control everything."
"Your parents?"
The question slipped out before Ilya decided whether he should ask it.
Shane did not seem surprised.
"My mother got scared. My father was torn. My sisters were... you can imagine."
Ilya could imagine. Too easily.
Shane took a deep breath.
"I don't hate being omega."
The sentence came firm enough to make Ilya look at him more closely. Shane was still looking at the rink.
"I need to say that because people always misunderstand. They think that, if I complain, it's because I wanted to be alpha. Or beta. Or anything that would make my life simpler. And that's not it."
He swallowed, but his voice did not fail.
"I don't hate my body. I don't hate my scent. I don't hate my secondary gender. I hate what people do with it."
Ilya felt something tighten slowly in his chest.
"I hate walking into a place and seeing the expression change when they remember I'm omega. I hate that any anger I have is seen as hysteria, that any boundary I set turns into drama." Shane laughed, small and bitter. "I hate that they looked at me, on that team, and decided everything I was before mattered less than what I had just become."
The silence after that was enormous. The entire rink seemed to hold the weight of the sentence.
Ilya wanted to say something useful, but he did not even know where to begin.
"I'm sorry." He hoped it would be enough.
Shane turned his face toward him. "Me too."
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Ahead of Schedule by roztwofour (swiftpixie)
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
24 May 2026
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MONTREAL VOYAGEURS PASS ON HOLLANDER FOLLOWING FINALS INJURY
Despite being projected as at least a top-three pick, Shane Hollander slips to 57th overall after a Grade III ankle ligament tear sustained in the World Junior Hockey Championships earlier this year.BOSTON BEARS SELECT ROZANOV FIRST OVERALL, HOLLANDER IN SECOND ROUND
Boston bets on two of juniors' most electric players; one a sure thing, one a gamble. The Bears have never minded those.Shane Hollander did not get drafted to Montreal. He gets drafted to Boston, fifty-seventh overall, after #1 draft pick, Ilya Rozanov. He has a plan for that. The plan does not account for Ilya Rozanov being the way that Ilya Rozanov is.
Series
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 56,262
- Chapters:
- 6/10
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- 192
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Bookmarked by mayfriend
19 May 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
"Hollander, it's been seven months since the draft, and this seems like a good moment to address something that didn't really get talked about much at the time. Being passed over by Montreal. Falling to fifty-seventh after all the projections. You're clearly having a strong rookie season, but what was that experience like, and how are you processing it now?"
The room quiets slightly.
Shane knows this question. He has known this question was coming since June, since the moment he sat in the Marriott bathroom in Los Angeles and watched the clock and told himself he was fine and he has thought about his answer. He has thought a lot about it, internally, turning it over and looking at all the angles. He has his answer ready.
It is in his head right now. He can see it clearly.
He opens his mouth.
What happens is nothing, for approximately two seconds. Not the visible nothing that would be clocked by the cameras, his face is still doing the polished face, his face is fine but an internal nothing, a complete evacuation of the prepared answer from his memory, because the question landed differently than he thought it would, more directly, and underneath the landed question is every draft-day feeling he has spent seven months burying, and the bandaid he had put in place has been there until right now, this room, this table, the cameras, seven months of fine sitting on top of something that was never actually fine.
"What Hollander means to say," Ilya says, beside him, without any particular change in tone, like he's just completing a thought, "is that it's not a very interesting story."
Shane closes his mouth.
"Injuries happen," Ilya says. He's addressing the journalist directly, with the ease of someone who has decided he's speaking now and that this is what's happening. "Shane had a bad ankle and teams panicked. Teams panic about injuries more than they should. This is not new information about how the draft works." He pauses. "Shane is not the kind of person who sits with maybes. He would not be here at this table, at All-Stars if he was spending his time being upset about a thing that is already done." Another pause. "Also, the teams who passed on him are going to have a difficult time watching the next, I don’t know, maybe sixty years of his beautiful career. I think this is consequence enough."
A small, surprised laugh from the press row.
"Is that your professional assessment, Rozanov?"
"Is my factual assessment," Ilya says. "You should watch Shane Hollander. Everyone in this room should watch Shane Hollander. Is all I will say."
He sits back. Crosses his arms again. The bored expression returns like he never departed from it.
Shane looks at the table and then looks at the journalist and says, in a perfectly level voice: "What he said."
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Rozanov made a dismissive noise. “No, no, I will pick you up. Send me your address.”
“I’m not giving you my home address.”
“Why not!”
“Because you’ll probably post it on social media to psych me out before our next game.”
That made Rozanov laugh. “It is good idea,” he said. Stopped laughing. Started again. Blew out a breath like he had to get himself together. “I might do this to you,” he allowed, “but you have nice boyfriend living with you now. I would not do this to him. You are safe.”
In which Ilya Rozanov adopts himself into Scott and Kip's household and refuses to leave. Kip finds this very sweet. Scott is going to kill him.
- Language:
- English
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- 32,878
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- 9/9
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Bookmarked by mayfriend
18 May 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Scott’s reflection stared back at him, gallows-grim in a blue button-up shirt. “I could tell him I’m sick.”
“He’s gonna be here in twenty minutes,” Kip reminded him from his spot on the bed. He didn’t look up from his phone. “Way too late to back out.”
“You could call me with a fake emergency right after we leave,” he suggested.
Kip snorted. “No way.” He set his phone aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He met Scott’s eyes in the mirror, that sort of stern-playful look he wielded like a weapon. “Come on, this is a nice thing you’re doing.”
Scott turned to face him. “You don’t understand. Rozanov’s a nightmare. I can’t sit through a whole meal with him. He’s gonna piss me off ‘til I end up on the news.”
“He’s a closeted hockey player!” Kip held his arms wide. “A Russian closeted hockey player. God, you of all people should understand him having to put up a tough front.”
“Rozanov doesn’t have a ‘tough front,’” he insisted. “He’s annoying. He’s the biggest pest in the league. All he does is tell me I’m old.”
“Maybe that’s his way of asking for your wisdom.”
Scott pulled out his phone. “The last thing he texted me was, Restaurant is on the roof. Can you still do stairs?”
At the first twitch of Kip’s mouth, Scott pointed a finger at him. “Don’t laugh at that.”
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"I don't mean to come here and freak you out," Scott said, though he knew there was no avoiding it. He'd been where they were before. It had felt like he was dying, back then. "I just don't want you to think you're the only ones, okay? There's lots of us."
Their eyes snapped to him in unison, startled and intense. Hollander croaked, "What?"
"There's over sixteen hundred guys in the MLH and AHL," he reminded them, because it had felt improbable to him when he first heard until he remembered the sheer size of the hockey world. "There's — well, we don't know how many of us there are, but there's at least seventeen of us that know each other. Plus you two. We watch out for each other."
His eyes enormous, Hollander asked, "There's, what? A secret underground gay hockey network?"
Scott shrugged. "Yeah, basically."
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Ilya and Shane find their way into The Tennis Club, a network of closeted hockey players that hook up - so long as everyone keeps it casual. Which is no problem! They can do casual, right?
Bookmarked by mayfriend
18 May 2026