Hello! I'm Jay, I'm an adult, and my pronouns are they/them. You can find me on Ao3 at bluejayblueskies. My fics are tagged under #my fic and fics I've liked are tagged under #fic rec. I bookbind as well, and you can find my binds under #jay's bound books. I have a Ko-Fi here!
Current interests:
- Heated Rivalry
- All for the Game
- Rusty Quill Gaming
Currently writing for:
- Rusty Quill Gaming
- Malevolent
- All for the Game
- Heated Rivalry
Current projects:
- Malevolent Big Bang 2026 (mod)
Past projects:
- Malevolent Fairytale Zine (writer)
- Malevolent Monthly (mod)
- Malevolent Tarot Zine (writer)
- Malevolent Big Bang 2023, 2024, 2025 (mod, writer, artist)
- Bunnies in the Archives (writer)
- Fandom Trumps Hate 2022, 2023, 2024, 2025 (writer, bookbinder)
- Rusty Quill Big Bang 2021, 2022, 2023, 2024, 2025 (writer, bookbinder)
- Archival Pride Month (mod, writer)
FAQs
Can I make art/fics/podfics/bookbindings/translations/etc. of your fics?
Yes! I give blanket permission for any and all transformative works based off my writing. If you do, please send it to me so I can love and appreciate it <3
If you want to write a fic based on/inspired by one of mine, please link to the fic in question using Ao3's 'inspired by' feature or, if it's not on Ao3, link back to my fic in some other way.
I really like [xyz] AU that you came up with! Can I make content of it?
Yes--go ahead! You have blanket permission to make art, fic, or any other transformative works of my AUs, and I'd love to see whatever content you create, so feel free to send it to me!
Do you take prompts?
Not at the moment, though I will update here if my inbox opens again for them!
Do you take commissions?
At this time, I don’t take commissions for writing or bookbinding. I am, however, willing to send people my typesetting for fics I’ve already typeset and bound (pending author permission to share those typesets). Just send me a message!
first post for context / see the tag 'open relationship au' for more snippets.
2013
They've been texting.
Not about Hollander's useless boyfriend, which kind of defeats the purpose of why Ilya gave him his number in the first place, but Ilya is in no hurry to remind him of that. He likes what they've got going right now, texting each other inane details about their everyday lives.
It started with Hollander asking about his glute routine, which Ilya took to mean he's been staring at his ass. When he replied to Hollander, saying as much, Hollander sent back an angry emoji and Ilya couldn't hold back a grin, picturing him blushing at his phone.
It gets to a point where they're texting almost daily. It's almost like they're friends, which is what gives Ilya the courage to suggest they hang out after a game again.
Hollander accepts. They play video games and talk shit, and it's fun, even though it's not what Ilya's been chasing Hollander for since they did that CCM commercial. At one point Ilya brings up Hollander's boyfriend, only to get roundly shut down, and well. Message received.
They make arrangements to meet up again after their next game in Boston. Ilya considers cancelling their plans when Sveta texts him, telling him she'll be in town, but he finds he doesn't really want to. So he doesn't.
No need to examine that further.
Sveta still comes to the game and sits in Ilya's seat, looking model gorgeous in his jersey. This is gonna start some rumors, Ilya knows, but he doesn't give a shit. There are worse things to be accused of than dating a beautiful woman.
He reconsiders his stance when Hollander scores and Sveta leaps to her feet cheering. He'd think she was doing it just to annoy him but then, he knows Hollander is her second favorite player. Or her favorite, depending on how recently Ilya pissed her off.
Still, not a great look for Ilya. It banishes any lingering guilt he has for blowing her off, at least.
After the game, he shoots off a quick text to Hollander with his address and be there in 30. He watches in bafflement as the typing dots appear and reappear four times before Hollander replies with a simple thumbs up.
Weird.
That tiny mystery gets solved when Hollander shows up at his place and his first words are, "I thought you'd be hanging out with your girlfriend tonight."
Ilya leans against the door frame, smirking. "You mean Sveta? She's not my girlfriend."
"She was at the game, wearing your jersey" Hollander says. His cheeks have gone faintly pink. He brushes past Ilya, pausing in the entryway to take off his shoes. "I just figured."
"Jealous?"
"Kind of," Hollander says, but before Ilya can feel too satisfied about that, he adds, "I mean, Brian doesn't really like hockey but. It'd be nice to have the option to invite him."
Not even remotely what Ilya meant.
Then Hollander's statement sinks in.
"Doesn't like hockey?" he repeats incredulously. Is the man aware that he's dating Shane Hollander? "What do you even talk about, then?"
"Fuck you, I like things that aren't hockey."
"Name one."
Hollander glares at him. "I'm not entertaining that."
Which gives Ilya an excellent opening to keep poking fun, but he's more interested in another line of query. "What does your boyfriend like, then? Fucking," he waves his hand, "stocks, or whatever?"
"Not really." Hollander settles on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest. "He's in finance because he's good at it, not because he's passionate about it. He likes baseball, though."
"Ah. So he's boring, this is what you have in common."
Hollander straightens one leg, kicking Ilya in the side. "Did you invite me here just to chirp me?"
"Yes," Ilya says, catching Hollander's foot when he predictably tries to kick him again. He squeezes it once before letting go. "You should be honored, I gave up a guaranteed chance of getting laid for this."
Hollander freezes. "But - you said she's not your girlfriend."
"She is just a friend," Ilya confirms. "But we fuck sometimes. I don't really do relationships."
"I've noticed."
"You've been stalking me in the tabloids?"
The comment is said quietly, and it takes Ilya a moment to parse what it means. He grins.
"Fuck off, no I haven't." Hollander clears his throat, looking off. "Hockey players like to gossip, it's impossible to avoid hearing about you."
Ilya hums, not sure if he believes him.
"Would you want to be in a relationship?" Hollander asks, surprising him. "If you met the right person?"
Ilya shrugs, uncomfortable. "Maybe. I haven't met them yet, so is hard to say."
He looks at Hollander across the couch to find him already staring back. Hollander flushes, caught, but doesn't look away.
It feels like a lie, even if it's not meant to be. Ilya can't picture himself in a relationship, can't picture a partner at least, but thinking about it sparks an ache deep in his chest.
The silence stretched between them, and for once in his life Ilya has no desire to fill it.
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hollanov doing the hand size comparison thing and Shane's hand is bigger. He's bashful about it, because he loves feeling a bit small around Ilya (and Ilya can lift him up etc). Meanwhile, Ilya is instantly so hard that he loses vision for a second.
first post for context / see the tag 'open relationship au' for more snippet. just a short little scene this time, takes place shortly after the previous part and probably won't make sense without reading it first. assume all the dialogue is in russian, please.
2012
Sveta is in Boston for the weekend. They don't fuck on Friday because she has a boyfriend; by Saturday morning, this is no longer the case.
"He was pissing me off," Sveta says, sipping on her coffee. "Texting me every forty fucking minutes to make sure I wasn't cheating on him with you."
"It is only natural to be jealous of me," Ilya says humbly.
Sveta gives him an unamused look. "He was being insecure. I don't put up with insecure men."
"There is a lot you don't put up with," Ilya remarks.
"I know my worth."
It was her third short-lived relationship of the year. Sveta suffers from an unfortunate combination of high standards and terrible taste in men. It makes Ilya think of Hollander, who has the same trash taste but none of Sveta's good judgment.
Maybe Ilya could use her advice.
"I have a..." Ilya struggles to find the next word. Colleague? Rival? He settles on, "Friend. Jane. Who has a terrible boyfriend. But she refuses to see it."
"Terrible how?" Sveta asks, leaning in. Always eager for gossip, much as she tries to deny it. "Tell me."
Ilya does. It feels a little bit wrong, sharing Hollander's secret with someone who is a stranger to him, but it's not like Sveta is going to put the pieces together. None of the ones Ilya has handed to her fit.
By the time Ilya has told her everything, Sveta's expression has turned stormy.
"What do you think?" Ilya asks.
Sveta purses her lips. "I think I need to hunt Jane's boyfriend for sport."
Vindication! "I told you he was terrible."
"But," Sveta says, "if she doesn't want to see it, she won't."
"How do I make her see it?"
Sveta shrugs helplessly and Ilya groans, slumping against the kitchen counter.
"What the hell did I tell you all this for, then?" he grouses.
"Is he another player?" Sveta asks and for one terrifying moment, Ilya thinks she means Jane. But of course, she doesn't. "If he is, you could break his jaw next time you play. He needs it wired shut, can't eat her out for a few weeks, Jane becomes sexually frustrated and you swoop in and seduce her."
"You are joking," Ilya says flatly. "This is a joke to you?"
Sveta frowns, looking genuinely insulted. "Well, sexual chemistry is important in a relationship!" She takes a long sip of her coffee. "Whatever. You should break his jaw anyway."
Ilya can't argue with that.
+
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first post for context / see the tag 'open relationship au' for more snippets.
2012
Something is wrong with Hollander.
He's not quite off his game but he's moving with a restless energy, something troubled in the twist of his lips. He doesn't respond to Ilya's chirping during their face off, not even a roll of his eyes.
It bothers Ilya. He hates being ignored.
He feels a little bit better after they beat Montreal 3-2 but it keeps nagging at him. The flat expression on Hollander's face, the look in his eyes like he was somewhere far away.
Ilya's still thinking about it when he's heading down to the arena parking garage and spots Hollander standing by himself in the hallway, staring down at his phone with a frown on his face.
"Cheer the fuck up," Ilya calls, grinning when Hollander startles at his voice. "You should be used to losing to me by now."
"Which one of us won the Calder, again?" Hollander asks, pocketing his phone.
Ilya's grin widens. He thinks he must be one of the only people in the world who knows what a bitch Shane Hollander can be. What a privilege.
"Let me buy you a drink," he offers. "Drown your sorrows, yes?"
"Oh, I don't think... you're not going out with your team?"
Ilya wraps his arm around Hollander's shoulder, tugging him along. "I can do that any time. Tonight, I want to hang out with second best hockey player in the league. Maybe hear why he looked like sad puppy even before he got his ass kicked today."
Hollander glares at him, mouth opening and closing like he can't decide which part of that statement to disagree with first. "Fine," he finally snaps. "But I'm not drinking."
Ilya blows a raspberry.
"And we're going someplace private. I don't need the extra attention tonight."
"Private," Ilya repeats, nodding. "Alright, I will take you to most private place in town."
"I don't know if I'd call your apartment 'the most private place in town'," Hollander comments dryly.
Despite the sarcasm his eyes dart around as he enters Ilya's apartment, earnestly curious. Ilya feels a little thrill as he watches Hollander toe off his shoes by the door, making himself just a little bit at home in Ilya's space.
"What do you mean?" Ilya asks, sitting down on the couch. Hollander sits next to him, a seat away. Too far, in Ilya's opinion.
"Just with the amount of people you must have brought back here, it must technically count as a public space."
"Wow," Ilya says, delighted. "This is what I get, opening my home to you?"
Hollander rolls his eyes. Then he narrows them at Ilya. "Wait, you didn't bring me back here to...?"
"You are so paranoid, Hollander." Ilya sits up straighter, as it occurs to him just why Hollander might have been acting so off. "Unless that old boyfriend of yours is, ah... out of the picture?"
"No," Hollander says. He looks off, shoulder slumping. "I mean, I don't think so. Fuck, maybe?"
Those last words are muffled, as Hollander rubs his hand over his face. Ilya thinks they should make him happy to hear, considering how long he's been waiting for these kinds of cracks to show, but he can't be. Not with how miserable Hollander looks.
"We had a fight last week," he finally admits. "He hasn't been replying to my texts since. I went to his place but he didn't answer, and I don't know how the fuck I'm supposed to apologize if he won't let me. I don't even know what I did wrong in the first place. And he always fucking does this. He gets pissed at me about something and just ignores me until he feels like it and I never know how long that's gonna be."
Ilya blinks. "Wow."
"Sorry," Hollander says, blushing. "I didn't mean to - I don't really have anyone to talk to about this."
"Not anyone?"
"No." Hollander shrugs, looking down at his lap. "No one else even knows I'm into guys. I'd be fucked if it got out, so."
"Not your parents?" Ilya asks.
Hollander shakes his head. "Some of Brian's friends know about him, but not about us. That's it. Except you know everything, I guess."
Ilya lets out a strangled sound. His chest feels tight, imagining Hollander carrying this all alone for so many years. With this huge secret on his shoulders and his piece of shit boyfriend just adding to the weight.
He's had no one to tell him that this Brian guy sounds like a fucking asshole.
No one except Ilya, who's not gonna waste any fucking time. "This Brian guy sounds like a fucking asshole."
Hollander goes stiff and shit, maybe Ilya could have worded that more gently.
"He's not," Hollander says. "I know I made him sound pretty bad but it's just - we got into an argument, that's all. Couples fight."
"But then ignoring you for days? That's not an argument, Hollander, he is punishing you."
Hollander's cheeks have gone pink, and it's only then that Ilya realizes he might feel embarrassed. Like Ilya is judging him for his poor taste in men, or for allowing himself to be treated badly. As if Ilya doesn't respect him more than the rest of the MHL put together.
"He needs space after we fight. If anything, I'm the asshole for pushing him to make up."
Okay, so Ilya fucked this up. He doesn't know how to fix it; the right words seem impossible to find in this stupid language.
"Alright, if you say," he says, holding his hands up in surrender. "I do not know this man." Then, unable to resist, he adds, "Just that he likes fucking teenagers."
Hollander huffs. "Okay, fuck you."
He makes to get up and Ilya grabs his arm, sick at the thought that Hollander might leave feeling worse. That Ilya would have made him feel worse.
"I'm sorry, I'll stop. Don't leave."
Hollander glares at him but allows Ilya to pull him back down, slumping into the couch.
"You don't know him," Hollander says, as if daring Ilya to repeat himself.
"I don't," Ilya agrees instead.
"He's good to me most of the time."
"I'm sure he is," Ilya lies through his teeth.
Hollander's glare finally softens. "I just - I don't want you to think I'm putting up with something I shouldn't."
A pang goes through Ilya's chest. He hesitates for a moment before agreeing this time. "I don't."
Hollander nods, satisfied.
Well.
This was a disaster. Ilya thinks he may be woefully unequipped to deal with this kind of situation. If he didn't think Hollander would bolt like a scared rabbit he might try to seduce him away from his awful boyfriend but as is, Ilya is up a creek without a paddle.
"Thanks for listening," Hollander awkwardly offers. "Or sorry about ruining your night, I guess."
"You ruined nothing," Ilya assures him. He straightens as something occurs to him. "Give me your phone."
Hollander reaches into his pocket, the movement seemingly automatic because he freezes just as he's about to hand the phone over. "Why?"
Ilya grabs it, and punches in his number. "In case you get into another argument and need to complain. I promise I will be less shitty about it next time, okay?"
Hollander eyes him suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice?"
"I am very nice, everyone knows this."
"You were voted third most punchable in the league last year," Hollander reminds him.
Fair enough. "I am nice to people who deserve it. You may be slow fucking hockey player with a weak backhand-"
"A weak backhand?"
"-but you are a decent person. You deserve to be treated nicely."
Ilya thinks maybe pushed it too far with that last statement when Hollander looks away, blinking rapidly. He turns his head, pretending to be very interested in some lint on his pants while Hollander pulls himself together.
"Thanks," Hollander eventually says. "You, uh. You too."
Ilya swallows past the sudden lump in his throat and says nothing. He's not a decent person. A decent person would have found a way to actually make Hollander feel better.
At least, Ilya thinks grimly, he's better than fucking Brian.
+
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