mayfriend
Fandoms
Recent works
-
Tags
Summary
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.
Recent bookmarks
-
Tags
Summary
“Shut up,” Rozanov snaps. He whips his head around, crowding Shane towards the wall. A sky-dividing sharpness to his anger, his mineral blue gaze. It fizzles out. “I did not say you are a girl.”
Shane freezes. His heart opens before he can stop it. “Do you want me to be one?”
or: Shane does not want Rozanov to make him ask.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 24,609
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 47
- Kudos:
- 323
- Bookmarks:
- 83
- Hits:
- 7,402
Bookmarked by mayfriend
02 May 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
The first time Shane had looked at a boy, truly—truly looked at a boy, he was eight. It was like staring at the sun. Shane couldn’t look at him again for a whole year.
-
Tags
Summary
“Wha’ happened?” Shane mumbles.
Ilya presses the call button for the nurse. “You took a bad hit during the game. We are at hospital.”
Shane frowns. “What game?” he asks, and then, “Who are you?”
Ilya blinks back the panic rising in his throat. “Shane, what the fuck? Is me. Ilya.”
Shane is still frowning. “Rozanov?” he asks, and suddenly, like he’s had a premonition, Ilya knows what Shane is going to say next. Knows from the furrow between his brows and the hunch in his shoulders and the hands that are very conspicuously not reaching for him.
“Rozanov,” Shane says again. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
So this is what it feels like for your heart to break.
--
Or: In 2023, Shane takes a bad hit during a game and wakes up with no memory of the last twelve years of his life.
Series
- Part 22 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 12,424
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 138
- Kudos:
- 1,375
- Bookmarks:
- 224
- Hits:
- 7,847
Bookmarked by mayfriend
30 Apr 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Ilya thinks about them all the time: the lasts he didn’t know were lasts. The last time he blew Shane (in the shower, the morning before the game, Shane’s hands knotted in Ilya’s soapy hair, his groan echoing off the tiles); the last time he kissed Shane (before they got out of their SUV at the arena, a there-and-gone brush of lips over the center console for luck); their last goal together on the ice (three minutes before collision, a slick feint from Shane led to a solid pass to Ilya and a goal netted neatly in the top right corner of the opposition goal).
The last that messes him up the most, though, is the last time Shane told Ilya he loved him, because Ilya doesn’t remember it. Was it the night before, when they were drifting off to sleep? The morning of, a quick thank-you for a disgusting smoothie, competently made while Shane was still getting dressed? Or something else entirely—something more meaningful, or less meaningful, or absent, or deliberate, but something that Ilya took for granted, something he didn’t bother to remember, something he thought he would hear a thousand more times and so something he dismissed?
Ilya doesn’t remember the last time his mother said she loved him, either. Which is a completely different situation, of course. But he can’t stop thinking about it.
-
there are things i was never meant to keep (will you be another one of them?) by eurydicees
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV)
18 Dec 2025
Tags
Summary
The first snowfall in Boston that year brings several things: a heavy layer of dirty snow coating all the roads of the city; a freezing, threatening cold to the air both inside and out; all incoming flights to Logan getting grounded before they could even think about taking off; and the breaking rumors that Ilya Rozanov is fucking men in his spare time.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,376
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 3
- Comments:
- 145
- Kudos:
- 4,370
- Bookmarks:
- 732
- Hits:
- 25,650
Bookmarked by mayfriend
29 Apr 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
“Everything is changing.”
And Hollander says, “I’m not.”
Ilya cracks a small smile. “Ah. My good, reliable, boring Hollander. But you are changing in some ways, I think.”
“My—feelings haven’t.” Hollander takes a shaky breath, eyes still closed. “What I want from you hasn’t. All this—these photos, the tabloids, the talk—is happening, but what I want from you hasn’t changed at all. I’m just—I’m realizing—being afraid—and alone—what’s worth—”
He cuts himself off and goes silent again. The tension has shifted somehow. Ilya, not knowing what he wants to hear now, murmurs, “Hollander…”
“You called me Shane. Before.” Hollander’s voice is low as an ember, as a streetlamp’s reflection in the ice. “You called me Shane.”
Ilya looks over at him. Careful. Analyzing. Unsure of what he’s finding. “You have never called me Ilya.”
And with that, Shane Hollander opens his eyes. He looks over at Ilya. His pupils are blown dark and wide, his expression is raw and vulnerable, his hair windblown still and his lips just slightly wetted. He says, “Ilya.”
-
Tags
Summary
“I don’t really think about stuff like that,” Shane replies in interviews, his lips wooden at the words.
---
Shane and being haafu, 2nd gen, and Asian.
Bookmarked by mayfriend
26 Apr 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
“The worst part,” Yuna Hollander was saying, “was the food.”
Across from her, Ilya was nodding thoughtfully, two glasses of wine deep. They had already finished dinner, and the empty plates had been sitting neglected for at least 20 minutes now. The conversation just didn’t seem to hit a lull for them to get up and take care of the dishes; Shane was starting to feel antsy, thinking about the pasta sauce slowly crusting stuck on the plates, getting harder and harder to scrub away.
Ilya had been joking about first moving to the US, how shocked he was at how big everything was; the size of the cars, the size of the grocery stores, the size of parking lots. Yuna nodded, eyes shut in solidarity, at all of these observations, and launched into her own stories of when she first moved to Canada: hugs, bizarre questions about China, how many yappy dogs were out and about all the time.
“It was so lonely, you know,” his mother said, a little buzzed and contemplative. “My mom, she was so sad, she couldn’t find anything, not even miso. All there was was soy sauce and a sushi restaurant. There was one guy, by the time Shane was born, who started running an import business, buying stuff from Japan and selling it from his home. But before that, well…
“It was like I could never eat my favourite foods again. No more curry rice, no more korokke, no more miso-fried fish, no taiyaki or dango or any kind of wagashi, not even miso soup! I think I missed miso soup the most. We used to have it every day. I didn’t know I loved it so much until it was gone.”
Ilya hummed, nodding. “I know this feeling,” he said, “I miss grechka more every day. Just buckwheat. I did not think I cared for it before.” Shane hadn’t thought much about how Ilya and his mother had this in common. Immigrants, the both of them. The term didn’t seem to fit with Ilya in his head, for some reason.
“Once,” Yuna said, beginning to smile, “My mom went to the store and saw this stuff, instant ramen, you know it’s everywhere now, but it was new then, for Canada. And she got so excited, she bought three cups for us and brought it home, her face was splitting open with her smile. I’d never seen her so happy.”
“She made it for us for dinner, she poured in those cup noodles and set it out for us. And we laughed, since it was a western cup noodle, and it tasted nothing like real ramen. Honestly, it was bad,” Yuna shook her head, amused. “Afterwards, my dad set his chopsticks down, and said very seriously – ‘Mother, never buy this again,’ and she never did.”
Shane had never heard that story. The image was vivid in his mind; his grandma and grandpa, young and worn down, Yuna with her hair short, wrinkling their nose at the flimsy styrofoam Mr. Noodles cup. His grandpa laying down an order – no more trying at what we can’t have.
-
if you're scared of wolves by sleepingintheculdesac
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
24 Apr 2026
Tags
Summary
In another life — or maybe the next one, or maybe the one before — Ilya Rozanov learns that some roads only lead to one place. No matter how you take them, the wolves are always waiting at the end.
Maybe that's why, in December 2008, Ilya wakes up with the distinct, inexplicable sense, that he has already lived this life before.
Some things, it turns out, are inevitable. The question is whether he is.
Bookmarked by mayfriend
19 Apr 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
“Would you choose me?” Shane demands on Boxing Day, and Ilya thinks about dying four times over, choosing Shane each and every time, because loving him was the easiest thing Ilya had ever done, except when it was the hardest.
“I already chose you, Hollander,” he says. Again, and again, and again, and again.