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Our Flickering Light (The Last of Us- mainly Joel Miller- x M!Reader) ONGOING - ONGOING
Oasis (Olympo - mainly Sebas Sendón x M!Reader) ON HIATUS TIL NEXT SEASON
Sunlight, Moonlight (Heated Rivalry - Shane Hollander x M!Reader x Ilya Rozanov) ON HIATUS TIL NEXT SEASON
Fandoms I'm in
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in the sun and moon and the sequel one shot is y/n in love with kate?
I left it up to reader interpretation, but in my head, he does have feelings for her (I wrote his sexuality as fluid) but they're not as intense as the love he has for Anthony. They're all content with their circumstances as Anthony does need and want an heir, and (Y/N) and Kate enjoy doting and caring for each other.
CW/TW: Typical TLOU warnings, mentions of injury, mentions of death
~~~
The fog of the early morning had yet to lift by the time (Y/N) finished getting dressed, the frosted glass of the bedroom windows filling the room with a bright, white light.
He adjusted the straps of his backpack over his shoulders, smoothing them out until they sat comfortably, before he triple-checked the room for any belongings he might've missed.
Joel hadn't said much after their... conversation? Argument?... Confession?
He'd retreated to his bedroom, his brows back into that contemplative furrow of his, and he'd skipped out on the breakfast (Y/N) cooked up with the ingredients Maria had brought over. (Y/N) tried not to dwell on it, tried not to hold it against a man who'd built a wall around his heart to protect himself after so many losses.
(Y/N) closed the door to his bedroom and made his way up the stairs, each step creaking softly beneath his weight until he came to stand in front of Joel's bedroom door.
He tapped his knuckles against the door twice, straining his ears for any signs of movement on the other side, but he heard nothing. Not even the creak of a floorboard or squeal of a bed spring.
"Joel," He called out, resting his temple against the door, his fingers hovering over the doorknob. "We're heading out now, okay? I... I hope you're still here when we come back. I think.. I think you and I have a lot to talk about, don't we?"
No response. (Y/N) frowned.
"Look, I'm not going to badger you, okay? But I know you, and I know you'll be restless until you hear from us again. Now's your chance to grab your things and join us. I know it'd make Ellie feel safer, more protected. I trust Tommy as much as you do, but- but he's still a stranger to us. We're strangers to him, too."
(Y/N) waited to hear something, anything, but he received silence in response.
Twenty-nine years of life, technically thirty, given that tight grip of winter on the land meant the year was coming to an end. He'd lost nearly everyone he'd ever known: his mother, his stepfather, his adoptive fathers, Tess, Henry, and sweet Sam.
His lips pressed together, a hot prickle coming to the sides of his eyes. He hoped he wouldn't lose Ellie and Joel, too.
(Y/N) headed down the hall to Ellie's bedroom, knocking twice and waiting for her to call out. He cracked the door open wide enough to peek in, offering her a close-lipped smile.
"Hey," He greeted quietly. She sat at the bay window with her backpack at her feet, already dressed and ready to head out. "Come on."
"Is..." Ellie trailed off, her eyes dropping onto the floorboards.
"I don't know, but Maria mentioned Tommy's going to meet up with us at the stables."
Disappointment flashed in her eyes, her lips tugging into a frustrated frown, before it smoothed over into forced neutrality. "Okay."
The walk to the stables took them through the snowy neighborhood, and things almost felt normal, as if the world had never fallen apart.
People shoveled the sidewalks and driveways; others helped sprinkle salt around to avoid any falls. A handful of kids ran around throwing snowballs at each other or plopping down to build snowmen while their parents watched on.
He hoped the Fireflies would allow Ellie to return, to build a life in Jackson. He was sure, given everything he'd been told, that they likely had communal bases of their own.
But they sounded so meticulous, so impulsive and stubborn. He wondered if they even regarded Ellie as human, as a child, rather than a potential experiment.
"I can't believe him," Ellie muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing into glares that sharply turned on anyone who glanced their way. "I-I-I can somewhat understand him ditching me, but ditching you? He's, like, in love with you."
"He's not." (Y/N)'s face warmed.
Ellie rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't bullshit me. You two weren't exactly quiet when you were yelling at each other last night, and when that old couple back in the cabin asked-"
"Okay, I know, I get it, but it's not love." (Y/N)'s stomach fluttered. "He... He's attracted to me, and I'm attracted to him."
Ellie pursed her lips at him in disbelief. "You're totally in denial."
"No, I'm not!" (Y/N) scowled down at her, pressing his palm to the front of her beanie and pushing it down over her eyes childishly.
The irritation on Ellie's face died, a giggle escaping her as she readjusted the beanie over her head properly. "Yes, you are-"
"Morning."
Tommy's warm voice interrupted, his mouth tugged up in a polite smile as he took both of them in. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder, the strap resting atop the strap of his heavy backpack.
Ellie's face fell at the sight of him, a reminder of Joel's perceived betrayal and abandonment of them. Tommy winced sympathetically.
He jerked his head back toward the entrance of the stables. "Come on."
Clumps of snow had scattered across the floorboards of the stables and mixed with the wood shavings from everyone who came and went, and the air smelled of sweet hay, leather, and earthiness.
The sound of the various horses snorting and whining filled his ears, along with rustling that came from one of the stables.
(Y/N)'s head turned toward it, and he stopped, watching Joel adjust a saddle to one of the horses, ensuring the belongings he'd packed wouldn't fall. He held back the delighted smile that threatened to split his face, primarily due to the sullen frown that grew on Ellie's lips when she noticed Joel.
"You came here to say goodbye or something?" She asked bitterly, though the tinge of hope hadn't gone unnoticed.
Joel cleared his throat, fiddling with the reins one last time before he faced them. His hand ran over the horse's mane, almost as if to soothe his own nerves.
"No, I... I came here to steal a horse and leave about thirty minutes ago, but..." He lifted his gaze off the ground, his eyes jumping between them. "You... You deserve a choice. I don't want to regret-"
Shoving the bag of extra supplies that she'd been given by Maria into Joel's arms, Ellie gave one quick, firm nod. "Let's go."
Joel blinked. "Okay."
With a small chuckle and a pleased grin, (Y/N) followed Tommy to the next available horse that was all ready to go. He double-checked the saddle and reins, just to be sure, cooing softly to the mare when she snorted quietly. He lifted his head when Joel stepped into the stables, his attention immediately falling to the familiar rifle in his hands.
"I may have... stolen this for you, too," Joel admitted, somewhat sheepishly, and (Y/N) took the rifle, his finger rubbing over the initials. "I planned on leavin' it here for you to find, but... I couldn't stop thinkin' about what you said. I.. I imagined myself out there, wonderin' about you and Ellie. Hopin' without answers. It would've driven me crazy."
(Y/N) sighed, faintly shaky, and he leaned in, kissing the corner of Joel's lips. "Thank you, Joel. I'm happy you're doing this."
Joel smiled, his head dipping almost meekly. "Yeah... me too."
With directions from Tommy and one last tight embrace between the brothers, they headed out of Jackson into the vast wilderness of Wyoming once again.
(Y/N) followed Joel's lead, mimicking the noises and movements he made to get his horse to quicken into a trot. (Y/N) was relieved to be off his feet, though he suspected within a few hours, his thighs would go numb and his legs would cramp.
Soon enough, the sun crept higher up in the sky, and the warmth of its rays melted most of the snow that'd fallen overnight. They headed through forests and across fields with brittle grass, stopping momentarily to appease their rumbling bellies and to get some more gun practice for Ellie.
(Y/N) happily watched while he nibbled on some strawberries, his eyes crinkling at the banter between Joel and Ellie. Unlike when they'd set off from Lincoln to Kansas, or even from Florence and Marlon's cabin, things felt lighter.
Nothing had really changed; they still had to track down the Fireflies, and the world would likely remain infested with infected for a while, but Joel looked... happier. Calmer. Less rigid with pressure and worry on his shoulders.
He laughed genuinely and smiled widely, responding to Ellie's teasing remarks with some of his own rather than heavy grunts or eye rolls. He smiled each time they made eye contact, a little, buzzing smile, like the two of them had a secret no one else knew about.
(Y/N) blushed a bit each time he saw it. They had no name to the thing growing between them, and they wouldn't until they dealt with the task at hand first.
But after that, after Ellie worked with the Fireflies... (Y/N)'s head felt light with anticipation. Would they be boyfriends? No, that sounded juvenile.
Partners sounded better, more mature, less childish. Partners held hands and kissed and... (Y/N)'s face flushed hotter, and he took in a deep breath, studying the sparse forest around them for a distraction.
Using his legs to lightly squeeze the sides of his horse, he clicked his tongue and murmured a light praise when his horse quickened its step in return.
He ignored the mischievous grin on Ellie's face that she'd begun to constantly sport whenever she looked at the two of them, and took a quick look at the sky to check the time. He estimated the sun would set in a few hours.
"So," Ellie began, her chin propping over Joel's shoulder. "The way they ran stuff in Jackson, is that how things used to be?"
"No, the country's too big for that. Back then, there were basically two main ways of lookin' at things: some people wanted to own everythin', and some people didn't want anyone to own anythin' at all."
(Y/N) shot Joel a sideways look.
Sure, his youth had been primarily made up of attending school, going on play dates, and watching his favorite cartoons before the world turned upside down, but he had a feeling things were much more complicated than that.
Bill had a lot of books, and he'd practically devoured the collection in Lincoln's library. The States hadn't been so black and white back then.
"Which one were you?" Ellie asked, squinting when the sunlight peeking through the trees blinded her briefly.
"Neither," Joel replied simply. "I just did my job."
"Which was..." Ellie's brows furrowed in puzzlement. "Building?"
"That's right. Houses, stores, that kind of thing. We were called contractors. Everybody loved contractors." Joel smiled, evidently proud of his job before the outbreak. (Y/N) imagined building so many different things made him the perfect guy for projects in the house.
Ellie's head dropped on the back of Joel's shoulder, her cheek slightly smushed. "What about you, (Y/N)?"
"I was in 4th grade."
Joel made a noise in the back of his throat, and (Y/N) barked out a laugh, his shoulders shaking at the way Joel's nose crinkled.
"I was busy learning about long division and state history, and when I wasn't at school, I was either begging to go to the zoo or following one of my neighbors, Tyler, around the block. I think I had a crush on him."
"Oh?" Ellie's brows lifted, that impish grin appearing on her lips again. "Where's Tyler now?"
(Y/N) winced. Tyler hadn't been one of the lucky ones to make it to the QZ after the country began to feel the effects of the widespread infections. He'd rushed home to discover his infected aunt, and Steven, their neighbor, had been too slow on the trigger before she'd lept onto the poor kid.
"His aunt ate him, unfortunately," (Y/N) explained with a quiet sigh. He'd looked away during the attack, but Tyler's screams had been guttural. "He was a nice kid. He wanted to be in the NBA, or something like that, so he was always outside playing basketball. I thought he was pretty cool."
Ellie's grin grew. "You think Joel's cool?"
(Y/N) laughed again, his cheeks burning once more, and he nodded, spotting the smile Joel attempted to hide by turning his head away.
"Yeah, definitely." He giggled. "Joel's very cool."
It took them approximately five days to reach Interstate 25 in Boulder, Colorado, where Joel hoped they'd be able to find some Fireflies to point them in the right direction.
The land on the outskirts of the city was barren fields covered in snow, with part of the snow-capped Rocky Mountains visible in the distance. The air shifted, although Ellie seemed to hardly notice.
Cities meant either hordes of infected or groups of people willing to do anything out of desperation; sometimes cities had both. People worried (Y/N) more. Infected were dangerous, that was for certain, but generally, they were easy to predict. They had one hivemind goal: adding to their numbers.
People, on the other hand, were unpredictable; thus, that made them more dangerous. Everyone had different goals, different ways of dealing with things.
Many of the groups they viewed as raiders were people at the end of their rope, people willing to do anything and everything regardless of the outcome. They stole, they killed, they injured, and they assaulted.
(Y/N) adjusted the strap of his rifle so it'd be easier to grab and aim, and nodded to Joel, his throat tightening in the slightest. They crossed the field ahead of them toward the city and closely studied the roads, buildings, and sidewalks for any signs of movement.
(Y/N) strained his ears for anything other than the rustling of trees and scattering leaves, his head on a sharp swivel once they entered the city.
Boulder was a beautiful city, he had to admit. It sat at the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, and unlike other cities that felt like concrete jungles, there was plenty of pretty nature around them. (Y/N) imagined it must've been a serene place to call home. He hoped someday it'd be restored to what it once was.
They followed the street signs to the Home of the Big Horns, otherwise known as the local university of Boulder. The buildings looked ancient and impressive, tall and naturally attention-grabbing with their red-orange tiled roofs and beige sandstone exteriors.
It was somber for (Y/N) to realize how little of the old world he'd lived.
He never got to graduate from a proper elementary, middle, or high school; he never got to go to prom or school formals; he never got to send out college applications or worry over being accepted into one; he never got to graduate and walk across the stage to receive a fancy diploma; he never got to scour through job listings and work to get real money.
QZs made half-assed attempts at replicating the real world, and while he'd learnt plenty in the schools, they hardly counted as real schools from his memory and what he read in books. He hoped the Fireflies knew what they were doing for the sake of younger generations.
"So, these places.."
Ellie looked around at the towering dormitories around them. (Y/N) spotted a few decorations still hanging in rooms through the open windows: posters, campus merch, pictures, dead plants. More memories trapped in time.
"People would live here and, what, go to classes and stuff? Even though they were adults?"
"Sort of adults." Joel quickly corrected her, his brows forming a guarded furrow, surveying the otherwise quiet, desolate campus. The lack of infected was concerning. "I think it was just as much about partyin' and figurin' themselves out as anythin' else. Figurin' out what they wanted to do with their lives."
Ellie hummed. "What would you have done here, (Y/N)? If you'd come to one of these places?"
"Dunno," (Y/N) answered with a small shrug, his eyes falling to the bike racks and the personalized bikes attached to them. So many ghosts, so many lives that hadn't truly begun. "All I really wanted when I was younger was a puppy. I wasn't thinking about what I'd do as a grown-up."
"Mm, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a singer," Joel revealed, his tone so genuine and words so startling that (Y/N) giggled. As expected, Ellie tilted her head back with a laugh. Joel glanced at them, huffing softly. "What? Why's that funny?"
"You gotta sing something now," Ellie said between laughs, her eyes bright at the confession. (Y/N) could practically see her tucking the new piece of information away to use against Joel later.
Joel grunted. "No."
"Come on, man." Ellie patted his side encouragingly. "We're not going to laugh."
"You're already laughing."
"Please, Joel," (Y/N) laughed despite himself, squinting after they passed beneath a bridge and the sunlight hit his eyes. He blinked a few times to get rid of the spotting in his vision, and cracked a smile at Joel. "Serenade us. Bill and Frank would serenade each other all the time back home."
"Bill could sing?" Joel looked flabbergasted, his mouth nearly dropping. "Bullshit."
"Oh, Frank was the horrible singer. He was always off-key, and his voice would crack on the high notes... but if you looked at Bill, you would've thought Frank was singing the most beautiful piece of opera."
If he focused enough, he could still hear the piano playing in the back of his head while Bill and Frank laughed amongst themselves, teasing and cooing.
"Bill taught me a little, but it's been a while."
"I'll serenade you if you serenade me, how 'bout that?"
(Y/N) nodded. "Deal."
"Ugh, you guys are gross. You should just kiss already."
Ellie made a small gagging noise, but her smile was big and thrilled. She barked out a laugh at the sharp, embarrassed looks the two of them shot her, her hand raising to slap over her mouth as her shoulders shook.
Her laughter continued for a bit, until they began nearing the science buildings further on campus and a surprising sound ahead drew a gasp from her. "Holy shit, are those monkeys?!"
Joel hummed thoughtfully. "Must be from the labs."
(Y/N) watched them in fascinated surprise while they shrieked and called to each other, their lanky arms and legs moving rapidly to get away from them.
He hadn't stopped to consider what had become of all the animals that'd been trapped with nowhere to go after the outbreak. He assumed some dedicated workers across different zoos returned to set them free so they wouldn't starve.
"You know, I'm not surprised nature's doing fine. Life finds a way, I guess."
Joel jerked his chin forward, tugging on the reins of his horse and stopping in front of some signs. Phelan Center, McNiven Cameron Law Center, and Lawes Low Library were to their left; the Registrar's Office, Financial Aid, and Parking Garage were back the way they'd come from; and the Biomedical Sciences Building with a yellow symbol sprayed over it was to their right.
"Fireflies?" (Y/N) looked to Joel and Ellie.
"Yep," Joel confirmed, tightening his grip on his rifle. "That's them."
For a group spanning across multiple parts of the country, the Boulder base seemed... unprotected.
The guard posts Ellie pointed out looked like they'd been untouched for a while, and there were no signs of people actively making use of the Biomedical Sciences building. Windows were busted or open, but nobody walked past them. Abandoned, maybe.
But why? There were no infected around, no sign of raiders who'd chased them out or slaughtered them. It was if the people that'd been living and making use of the building and its equipment had simply... vanished.
"Uhm," Ellie shifted behind Joel, the easygoing atmosphere they'd created quickly dropping into tense anxiety. "Gun?"
Joel answered with a tight, "Yeah."
They dismounted from the horses and secured them to a tree. (Y/N) grabbed a better hold of his rifle, his eyes drifting over the countless sprayed-on symbols across different surfaces.
They'd thoroughly marked the place as their own, so why had they ditched it? (Y/N) studied the windows again, hoping to spot any moving shadows while Ellie checked her pistol for ammo.
Joel slipped his riding gloves off and stuffed them in the pocket of his coat, craning his head over his shoulder to look at them. "Follow my lead, and conserve your ammo."
The front lobby of the Biomedical Sciences building, predictably, looked a mess.
The floors were grim and covered in layers of dirt and dust; countless papers and files were scattered across the place; storage cases and carts were knocked over, the items they'd been carrying knocked aside; the walls looked dirty with both moss and mold; medical equipment like stretchers and IV bags were lying around, untouched.
"There were definitely doctors here." Ellie pointed out, approaching one of the carts that hadn't been knocked down.
It was packed with empty vials, packaged and opened syringes, unused cotton swabs. Some of the trays on it were empty, as if items had been taken from it.
Joel flipped open the dusty file sitting on the cart and picked up a yellow piece of notebook paper, reading over the list written on it in dark pen. Ammo, textiles, food, medical supplies.
"They moved," (Y/N) realized, reading the words written along the top. Colorado Campus to Salt Lake City. "They seemed like they had a good set-up here."
"Exactly." Ellie frowned. "So why leave?"
Joel twisted his lips in thought, but before he could list a few reasons why, they heard the sound of what sounded like a metal pipe falling over on one of the upper levels.
Joel crumpled up the paper and tossed it aside, adjusting his rifle over his shoulder and taking out his pistol instead, his eyes meeting (Y/N).
"Worth investigatin'?"
(Y/N) crinkled his nose. "If they had a welcoming committee, they would've come out by now, Joel."
"It could be one of them coming back for more supplies," Ellie mentioned, gripping her gun a little tighter. "They might know where to find Marlene."
Reluctantly, because Ellie had a decent point, (Y/N) nodded to Joel. They headed for the large staircase leading up onto the second floor, following the rustling and clanking down a messy hallway.
The Fireflies had certainly been in a rush when they'd left. More stretchers and half-full IV bags were lying around haphazardly. Joel stopped by the room where the noises came from, wrapping his hand around the handle and cracking it open.
Shrieks and cries of more monkeys echoed, and when he pushed the door wider to take a better peek at what seemed to be a classroom, they fled out the open windows. (Y/N) released a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping and arms lowering.
More messes. (Y/N) had to wonder if they'd left it neater, and other people who passed through left the mess in hopes of dinging anything of value or use left behind.
"Well," Joel began, "At least it ain't clickers."
"Yeah, no Fireflies, either," Ellie muttered, irritation slipping into her voice. There was a hint of hopelessness in it, too. "Maybe in all that research, they turned into fucking monkeys."
"The paper said Salt Lake City.."
(Y/N)'s attention settled on the board in the center of the room with a map of the States and different papers pinned to it. He approached it, his eyes flickering over the sticky notes, random ramblings, and the different colored thumbtacks that all led to Utah's capital.
"Chances are, Salt Lake City's where their main base is located."
Joel came to stand beside him, studying the board as well. "There might be better facilities there. Better equipment.. I don't know. It's gotta be important-"
(Y/N) and Joel's heads snapped toward the windows when unfamiliar voices reached their ears, and they quickly walked over to one, avoiding anything on the floor that could make noise.
Four men walked across the sidewalk below, each of them either holding metal bats or shivs. They hardly looked friendly.
Joel looked at them, his frown serious and voice low. "Out the back. Now."
As quickly and quietly as they could, they hurried through the halls and down the stairs, heading out one of the side entrances and using the sandbags the Fireflies had stacked around as cover.
They remained low to the ground, their strides long to cut through distance quicker, the leaves beneath their feet crunching softly. They hid behind a dumpster, their awaiting horses just across the broad sidewalk.
"Ready?" Joel asked quietly, glancing back at them.
Ellie nodded. "Yeah."
(Y/N) took a breath. "Mhm."
They ran across the sidewalk to the horses and quickly untied them. (Y/N) slipped his rifle onto his back and adjusted the reins, lifting his head to watch Joel tuck his rifle into one of the bags. His eyes met Ellie's, and he noticed when they widened with dread when she looked over his shoulder.
Without hesitating, he ducked right as she shouted, hearing the sound of a bat slamming into the trunk of the tree beside him. He stumbled to his feet to get away, his horse neighing and stomping her hooves.
Joel charged at the man, slamming him back against the tree and drawing a pained, wheezy cry from him. He reeled his head back to headbutt him and then managed to get him in a choke-hold.
(Y/N) caught and steadied his breathing, frantically shushing his horse so it'd calm. The sickening crack of bones breaking reached his ears, and the man in Joel's arms slumped, lifeless.
Joel turned around, his breathing heavy, and (Y/N)'s eyes trailed downward, his blood running cold at the sight of something embedded in his abdomen.
Joel curled his hand around the handle, swallowing thickly, and (Y/N) began to shake his head. "Joel, don't-"
His eyes squeezed shut at Joel's grunt, the makeshift shiv he'd been stabbed with thumping softly on the ground. First rule Bill had taught him about injuries: never take it out without supplies around unless you want to bleed to death.
"Fuck."
Ellie let out a shuddering gasp. "They're coming!"
"Joel, on the horse, now!" (Y/N) barked at him, rushing forward to help him stagger toward the horse.
Ellie scrambled up onto the horse after him and shot at the men rushing toward them, shooting wildly as (Y/N) got onto his horse and grabbed the reins.
Clicking his tongue, his horse quickened, egged on by the loud gunshots echoing around them, and Joel's horse followed. The men shouted angrily, cursing at them, but they gave up the chase quickly.
Despite that, they continued, galloping through the city and weaving through abandoned cars until they got to the city's outskirts. (Y/N) glanced at Joel frequently, his heartbeat skipping a beat each time he noticed Joel's skin worsening in color, growing fainter with his labored breathing.
It had to be blood loss, (Y/N) realized.
Pulling on the reins and stopping his horse, (Y/N) hopped off the saddle, ignoring Ellie's questions as he rounded their horse. "Joel, come on, I need to-"
Joel slumped to the side, falling off the horse with a hard, heart-wrenching thump. (Y/N) collapsed onto his knees and shoved up his flannel and undershirt, grimacing at the blood that oozed from the wound. He shrugged his backpack off his shoulders, his throat tightening with each desperate demand from Ellie for Joel to open his eyes.
"What are we going to do?" She asked tearfully, her hands trembling where they'd pressed over his wound. "Are- Are we going back to Jackson? Wha- What are we doing? What are we doing?"
(Y/N) ripped a roll of bandages from his backpack that he'd taken in preparation for the trip and, with Ellie's help, he wrapped it as tightly as possible around Joel's abdomen.
The wound was far too deep to heal on its own without stitches, but he hadn't expected they'd need them on the trip. He rubbed his blooded fingers over his pants, his breathing quickening.
"Uhm-"
"(Y/N)!"
"I know, I know! I'm- I'm thinking!"
"Think faster!"
(Y/N) got onto his feet rather ungracefully, his eyes jumping all over the place. They threatened to water, but he blinked away the tears of fear and frustration. His gaze landed on a little shed further down the train tracks they'd blindly followed.
"Uh, okay, look for rope, Ellie. I'm going to check if he packed anything we can use."
Nodding, Ellie staggered onto her feet and ran across the snow-covered ground toward the shed while (Y/N) combed through every inch of their belongings.
He found old, expired painkillers he doubted would work, but he took out two and a canteen of water, lowering back down onto his knees. He slipped the painkillers past Joel's chapped lips.
"Joel, I need you to drink, okay?" He brought the water to Joel's lips and carefully tipped the canteen, going slow to avoid a choking hazard. "We're going to- We're going to figure this out, Joel. I promise. Fuck, I promise."
Ellie returned a fleeting moment later with some old rope in hand, her chest heaving with pants. "Is this good? What is it for?"
"I'm going to tie Joel to myself so he won't fall again. Ellie, you're going to ride alone."
Together, they got Joel onto his unsteady feet, his breathing light, but there. (Y/N) climbed onto the saddle and reached down, helping Ellie drag Joel up and onto the horse.
With shaking hands, he tied the rope tight around both of them and adjusted Joel's head so it'd rest over his shoulder. Joel wheezed.
"What now?" Ellie asked, sniffling.
"We need to find supplies. I-I need to either or- or burn that wound closed, okay? I'd- I'd rather stitch it. I'll need a needle and some thread or string." (Y/N) chewed on his bottom lip. "He's got blood loss now, but he'll probably get an infection, too. I doubt those assholes were cleaning their weapons."
Ellie pressed her lips together to suppress their quivering. "Is he going to be okay? Are we going to be okay?"
HELLOWS i would like to ask if you can do a “something very bad is going to happen” in the future if you open your requests again? if not, its fine! toinks!
I haven't finished it, but I'd be open to writing for it!
any new shows you plan on watching and writing for?
I've recently started Half Man, which I'd definitely be open to exploring toxic dynamics with.
I'd like to start Ransom Canyon, Dark Winds, The Waterfront, Ted Lasso, and a few others, though idk if y'all would be interested in 'em.
Rn, the plan is finishing OFL, doing Hemlock Grove, finishing Oasis, doing a new series (likely Deaf!Reader x Pikes), and by then if HOTD S3 is done... finish WFMF which tbh I'll be following both book and show.
Logan's eyes drifted over the back of (Y/N)'s hand, tracing the faded lines that'd once been words written by a pen.
Just two hours prior, (Y/N) had "Chapter Thirty, Line Ten" written across the top of his palm in red, right above "Allie H. Audition" and "Tucker's Groceries" written in navy blue.
"Malone's Order", "Photography Project", and "Graham + Hannah Date?" had been written across the back of his non-dominant hand.
Numbers had been scattered over and between his fingers, some looking like dates and others like solutions for his Introductory Statistics class.
One long string had looked suspiciously like a phone number across his wrist, but Logan hadn't been able to get a good look at it before (Y/N) had slipped off to the bathroom to rinse off his little checklist.
"You're going to get ink poisoning." Logan teased softly, his chin rising from his folded arms, his upper body pushing itself up onto his elbows.
"That's a myth, Lo," (Y/N) replied distractedly, his attention focused on sketching out an idea for his Photography Now project.
It mostly looked like lines drawn haphazardly to Logan, but he'd come to learn not to question (Y/N)'s vision.
"Ink poisoning only happens when it gets into your body. I don't write over my paper cuts."
(Y/N) hummed quietly and twirled the pencil around to erase the stick figures, brushing away the shavings with his fingertips before he turned his head to look at him. Logan took the opportunity to lean in, pressing a few quick kisses to his lips.
"No, you write over the band-aid."
A little laugh eased out of his lungs, his body tilting forward to brush his cheek over (Y/N)'s temple. He took in the square on the page and what he presumed to be stick figures meant to represent people in the middle.
"You'd be much more comfortable on the bed, (Y/N)."
"I like the floor. Besides, if I get on the bed, you'll distract me."
A quick exchange in the hallways between classes; a brief encouraging conversation before games; popping by for fifteen to twenty minutes at practice or the newspaper's headquarters.
Logan's hand cupped the back of (Y/N)'s neck to keep him in place, his smile cheeky before he planted a couple more kisses on his lips.
While (Y/N) spent a lot of time with the Briar Hawks because of his involvement with Briar U's student newspaper, their time alone was fleeting.
So what if Logan wanted to distract his boyfriend from his never-ending lists of errands, class assignments, and chores?
"Sue me." Logan cooed, though he retracted his hand and resumed his position, easily content with simply being in (Y/N)'s presence. "Not my fault I can't resist you."
Since the day they met, back when (Y/N) was assigned as The Briar Times' main sports photographer, Logan had always found his presence soothing and comforting.
Where he often felt judgement or expectation from strangers, (Y/N) looked at him with nothing but warmth and mild intrigue. He liked his smile, small and genuine. It was a beautiful distraction from all the chaos of his life.
(Y/N)'s head slumped back on the edge of the bed, his smile lazy and affectionate. It filled Logan's stomach with butterflies. "I swear, once I'm done with this-" He tapped his finger over his notebook. "-we'll do whatever you want, yeah?"
"What are you even doing? I thought you'd finished this project ages ago."
"That was a different one." (Y/N) heaved a tired sigh. "This is, uh, what'd she call it? I forgot, but it's, like, a story in three parts. Beginning, middle, and end, you know? I was going to do a girl-meets-boy type of thing with Allie and Sean, but..." He sucked his teeth. "They broke up, and I don't want to force them into something uncomfortable."
"Right, right. That sucks, I'm sorry."
Despite his words, Logan felt triumphant, satisfied, because while he never wanted to admit it aloud, he'd always been a little jealous of (Y/N)'s friendship with Allie Hayes.
"Why don't you do boy-meets-boy?" Logan suggested, smiling fondly. "It could be our story. How we met, getting together, us now."
She was a great girl and incredibly supportive of them, but Allie Hayes knew little of what personal boundaries meant. He supposed she was used to it, to embracing (Y/N) and sitting on his lap, to being his model.
How Sean never grew jealous was beyond him. Or maybe he'd always been jealous and never showed it like Logan.
"Mm, the original concept was Allie and Sean meeting, dating, and then getting married since, y'know, that was their whole plan. Sort of. I don't think either of them actually thought about it too hard. But that's kind of the whole thing about girl-meets-boy. They meet, fall in love, and have a happily ever after."
"You've never..." Logan wet his lips. "You've never thought about us getting married?"
"We've never spoken about it, Lo." (Y/N) straightened up, shifting his body around to face Logan's direction, his brows raising slightly. Logan's face warmed. "Do.. you want to get married? To me?"
Logan lifted himself back onto his elbows, clearing his throat for no real reason. "Uhm," He tucked some wavy strands of dark brown hair behind his ear. "I'd.. I'd like to, someday. Maybe not right after college like everyone else, but... a year or two. I mean... it'd be interesting, with me potentially going pro and everything, but.."
"We wouldn't have to announce it to the whole world. Or, well, you'd have to talk to Jules about that." (Y/N) huffed softly, and Logan chuckled, nodding along. "We've always been private, haven't we? Nobody knew we were dating for months... until your gremlin of a little sibling-"
"I know, I know." Logan laughed. "It's not Jules's fault they're so observant. They figure shit out faster than Graham. Which reminds me, why did you have Graham plus Hannah date written on your hand? Did he ask for date ideas again?"
"No, actually," (Y/N) looked down at his hand, tracing the faded letters of Hannah's name. "Hannah mentioned she thought it'd be a nice idea for the four of us to go on a double date. Graham allegedly said he was cool with it, so she wanted me to ask what you thought."
"A double date, huh?" Logan propped his head up on his hand, humming thoughtfully.
Most of their dates happened behind closed doors away from prying eyes, where the two of them could focus completely and utterly on each other, or in quiet places like study dates at the library or an evening picnic date at the park.
It was hard, truthfully, to go on dates without one of the Hawks interrupting or Logan having to plead with Jules not to post a photo of them on Fifth Line.
"It'd be nice, wouldn't it? If we do get married-"
(Y/N)'s brows shot up. "If?"
Logan tried not to let the explosion of glee show on his face, and he resisted the urge to dip his head meekly.
"When we get married, Graham's definitely going to be my best man. It'd be cool to have pictures of the four of us. I think he likes Hannah enough that they'll probably get married right after graduation."
"We'd be in each other's wedding parties, huh?"
(Y/N) raised his hand to trek it through Logan's waves, chuckling softly. Logan leaned into his hand and tilted his head to kiss the heel of it.
"That would be really cute, baby. You two going pro together, being in each other's wedding parties, having photos of your time here."
"Photos taken by my future husband." Logan nearly swooned. He leaned, kissing him again. "That's the dream, isn't it?"
Congrats so much on 7 years! Your writing has improved so much and it’s very cool to see how it’s progressed over the years. I was wondering if I could request a part 2 at all for the ‘It ain’t me’ one shot for heated rivalry, it was really good. Thanks!
CW/TW: Typical Heated Rivalry warnings, mentions of mental health issues, slight angst, hollanov in the background/mentioned
~~~
From his spot on the rooftop terrace, Los Angeles looked like a faraway, fuzzy dream. It might've been from all the champagne he'd drunk back to back to ease his discomfort, but he felt feather light, weightless, better.
He liked how hazy the lights looked, golden and twinkling, different colors of various sizes. The city was considered an oasis in the middle of a desert for many who traveled to it, a place to become someone new, someone different.
He found nothing intriguing about the clubs and the casinos or the countless Elvis Presley's who happily officiated weddings.
The cold metal of the railing dug into his temple when he leaned his head against it, and the concrete was uncomfortably rough and flat against his ass, but he'd dealt with worse before.
A gentle breeze blew by, and he sighed, resting his shoulder against the railing. At least they'd fly home the following morning.
(Y/N) never particularly enjoyed attending the NHL Awards ceremony. He found nothing fun or exciting about it, and most of his colleagues were more keen on exploring LA's nightlife and throwing their well-earned money around than anything else.
(Y/N) attended for Ilya, because if he refused, Ilya would spend the entire time bombarding him with messages about how bored he was without him.
But (Y/N) now wondered how truthful his playful tantrums were because Shane Hollander faithfully attended the ceremonies each year, and they'd been having secret sex for who knew how long.
(Y/N) imagined Ilya texted him before and after sleeping with Shane, complaining about how lonely he was despite getting his dick wet.
(Y/N)'s jaw clenched, twirling his cigarette around and digging it into the concrete floor, wisps of smoke flowing out of his mouth. He inhaled sharply, irritated by the needle-like prickle in his eyes.
He had no claim over Ilya Rozanov, no real reason to feel jealous or betrayed. They'd never even shared a drunken kiss before that would imply any of his feelings were reciprocated.
"Stupid." He sighed, the metal vibrating when he tapped his head against it. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."
He pressed his forehead against the railing, his eyes sliding shut and squeezing out the tears that'd collected. They slid onto his lashes and dripped down, his nose slowly growing stuffy.
He'd thought about leaving Boston, about being traded someplace else. He was good, but hardly jaw-dropping. The Raiders would easily trade him for someone new.
But Ilya was a stubborn man, and he never made things easy. He'd fight it, and then he'd fight (Y/N), prodding him with questions and following him wherever he was sent to.
It was no use; Ilya viewed himself as his handler, his caretaker. Maybe Ilya liked feeling needed, patted himself on the back for helping the needy.
"(Y/N) (L/N)... the charity case of the Boston Raiders." (Y/N) laughed breathlessly, sniffling quietly, partly regretting having put out his cigarette so soon. "From the boarding school nutcase to the team charity case... what a fucking joke. So dumb. Why'd I even go into hockey? Why do grown men chase a little turd across a rink-"
"You're talking to yourself?"
"Jesus fucking Christ!"
(Y/N)'s head whirled around so fast it was a miracle he avoided getting whiplash. Shane Hollander stood a couple feet away from him with his hands in his pockets and a splash of amusement on his face, the night's breeze tussling some of his neatly styled hair.
The sight was nothing new to (Y/N). When Shane Hollander wasn't in gear, he either wore gym clothes or suits. He looked irritatingly handsome.
"Ever heard of announcing yourself? Fuck."
(Y/N) took in a big, long breath, pressing his hand over his chest until his heart stopped racing. Staggering onto his feet, (Y/N) dragged his fingers over his cheeks and the corners of his eyes roughly, hoping the following inhale he took cleared up his nose.
"What're you even doing up here?"
Shane stared at him, his brows slowly furrowing and mouth forming a frown, the amusement that'd made his eyes crinkle disappearing. "Were you crying?" Shane asked, taking two steps toward him before he stopped himself, uncertainty flashing in his face.
(Y/N)'s shoulders drew into a tense, defensive line. "No."
"Yes, you were."
"Why ask if you know, then?"
That familiar eruption of irritation seeped into his voice. His nostrils flared when he breathed in and out again, his fingers rising to run over his face.
Relax. Relax. Shane Hollander is an innocent bystander in all of this. None of this is his fault.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them, he found Shane even closer than before. "What do you want, Hollander?"
Shane's dark eyes flickered between his, searching. "I want to know why you-" He took a quick look around the terrace, his adams apple bobbing. "Why you had sex with me if you find me annoying? I've been- I've been thinking about it since we last saw each other, and it- it doesn't make sense to me."
(Y/N) rolled his neck until he heard a soft pop, and tried to force his body into relaxing. He could feel the whirlwind building up inside him, the urge to shout and cry at the same time bubbling.
He leaned back against the railing and set his hand over the cool metal, focusing on the cold and not how hot he felt in his clothes.
"I said you were annoying on the ice. I said you weren't horrible. I said we should leave it in the past and go our separate ways, so why are you bringing this up a month later when everyone in the league is right below us?"
He'd left Ilya with Marlow and St. Simon, but the blond would eventually go searching for him. Or for Shane.
"Now's not a great time."
Shane's frown deepened. He looked... embarrassed, his eyes jumping away like he hadn't really thought his plan through. "Why are you being a dick all of a sudden?" He asked, his voice breathless, disappointed. Good. "I came up here to see if you- if you wanted to talk. Why were you crying?"
Some part of him wanted to strangle the poor, oblivious Canadian.
"My personal life is none of your business, Hollander." (Y/N) had a million questions about his, though, starting with: Why does Ilya Rozanov like you so much? "And we have nothing to talk about. We had a one-night stand, that's it. I don't get your obsession with rehashing this shit, man."
"Because- Because I've been thinking more about you than the guy who broke my heart, and I wanted to know if you were thinking about me, too."
No.
No fucking way.
(Y/N)'s throat was dry when he swallowed. He needed a drink, maybe five and a xanny to really take the edge off. He tore his eyes off Shane to stare into the darkness around them, his heart picking up in pace.
His thoughts filled with Ilya, then with the night he spent with Shane, and then they became static, white noise.
"I'm..." He began, his heart in his throat. He pushed himself off the railing and staggered past Shane, faintly light-headed. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, and you're going to get a grip, and we'll never speak of this again."
"Why?"
(Y/N) spun around to face the Metro's captain and stepped close enough that their chests bumped. Shane flinched at the sudden movement, but squared his shoulders stubbornly. (Y/N) wished Shane would stop making things so damn difficult.
"Because Ilya's my best friend, and I know you've been fucking him behind everyone's backs for- for years, probably!" Shane's face fell into a brief panic, then deep guilt. "Sleeping with the best friend of the guy who broke your heart is some high school shit, Hollander."
Shane stared at him, the tips of his ears rapidly darkening with red. His eyes flickered around the terrace, and he swallowed harshly, irritation building on his face.
"He's your friend!" He snapped, and it was (Y/N)'s turn to flinch. "He and I were never together-"
(Y/N) tried to ignore the voice crack, the tremor in his voice when he spoke. Shane liked Ilya, too. He liked him a lot. It showed in his voice, the brief flicker of hurt in his eyes.
(Y/N)'s brain began to churn, questions and assumptions bubbling like boiling water. They liked each other. They likely loved each other.
And (Y/N) never once realized that he never stood a chance.
"-so fuck you for trying to make me feel bad! Is it a fucking crime to want to- to explore? I didn't do anything wrong! He confused me. He made me think-"
Shane sucked in a sharp breath, his lips rolling into his mouth and nostrils flaring with a deeper inhale. He looked distraught.
"He made me think that he liked me, and then- then he talks to me like I'm- I'm nothing to him."
(Y/N) wanted to crawl out of his skin. He wanted to peel it right off.
He reached up to his collar and ripped the tie (the very tie Ilya had helped him with earlier in the day) off, tossing it aside so he could paw at the first few buttons of his shirt.
His feet led him backwards until he turned, Shane's following words muffled and distant to his ears as he threw the rooftop entrance door open.
The cold air felt good on his skin, and his footsteps thundered in the stairwell when he hurried down the steps, going through the first set of doors he found.
A small, empty hallway greeted him. His back pressed to the wall, and he slid down it, cradling his knees close to his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, his heartbeat thumping in his ears.
He thought he'd come to accept that Ilya would never want him, but staring at Shane's face, seeing the whirlwind of emotions on his face...
(Y/N) imagined what type of things they'd done to warrant the heartbreak on Shane's face, the type of things they'd talked about.
Had Ilya shared his secrets with him? His past? Were there inside jokes between them, things they only whispered to each other under the sheets with sweat clinging to their bodies?
He wondered how many things Ilya had shared with Shane that he'd thought had only been between them, things he thought had been reserved only for him: his smile, his laughter, the cooed Russian, the overwhelming affection.
Despite the tears that fell from his face, a little, dry laugh ripped from his throat. God, how embarrassing, crying over a man who'd never look at him in any other way. (Y/N)'s head rolled back, thumping softly on the wall, his watery eyes trained forward on the dull gray wall across from him.
Fuck, what a dumbass...
He had roughly two months of vacation before they'd return to the arena to practice day in and day out. That meant he had two months to finally get over Ilya Rozanov, to reinvent himself the way aspiring fools around the country did whenever they left their miserable hometowns.
Two months to put himself out there. Two months to find someone-
The doors opened beside him, and he stuck his foot out to keep the one closest to him from swinging back into him. He made eye contact with Shane and sighed quietly, his fingers rubbing over his forehead.
The guy was persistent; he had to give him that. A good quality for a hockey player to have, but an annoying one for a hook-up you wanted to shake off.
"Do you like Rozanov?" Shane asked, a tad out of breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the small breaths he took to even out his breathing. "Is that why you're so upset? You like him? You- You think we're, what, love rivals?"
"It doesn't matter," (Y/N) answered quietly, his voice shot to hell.
From his spot on the floor, the light overhead made Shane appear like an angel with a white halo. Was Shane Hollander simply just... perfect?
"It doesn't mean anything, Hollander. He likes you, but he's too chickenshit to say it. You're not my competition because I'm not even in the race."
Shane lowered himself down on his hunches. "You can be a dick, (L/N), but you deserve better than this." He told him, reaching out to gently brush away his tears, his fingertips grazing over his cheek. "Does he know? Has he... mentioned me?"
"I may not be the smartest guy here, Hollander, but I'm not a complete idiot. I have two working eyes. I've seen how he looks at you, and... God, you're saved in his phone as Jane. What is he in your phone, huh? Leah?" (Y/N) sniffled roughly and raised his fist to cough into it lightly. "Lyla?"
Shane's hand dropped. "... Lily."
"Cute. Real cute." (Y/N) scoffed softly, spreading his legs apart to sit more comfortably. "Why'd you break up?"
"We weren't together-"
"Why'd you break up, Jane?"
Shane frowned, and he leaned back onto his hands, readjusting his stance so he could sit on the floor. "It was the Olympics. I don't think you made the US team-"
(Y/N)'s lips pursed.
"Sorry."
Shane hardly looked apologetic. His chest rose with a deep inhale, his eyes lowering onto the small gap on the floor between them. He looked... somber.
"I wanted to check in on him, see how he was doing since, you know, we were in Russia, and they'd lost. He was... mean. Then, he ignored me for, like, months. Fuck him."
(Y/N) despised the satisfaction it gave him. Ilya had kept in regular touch with him during his time in Sochi, lamenting about his father and constantly telling him how much he wished (Y/N) had made the team. They'd send selfies back and forth, pictures showing what they were doing, and they called whenever possible.
And, of course, Ilya never ignored him for months. Quite the opposite, really. He frequently slept over or encouraged (Y/N) to sleep over at his place. Attached at the hip, St. Simons would joke, like conjoined twins. They really needed to be severed apart.
(Y/N) rubbed the heel of his hand over the fabric of his pant leg. "How many other queer athletes do you know?"
"Only you two. Why? Do you know anyone?"
"No." (Y/N) licked his lips, feeling the slightest bit lighter at the expense of Shane's heartbreak. "Just trying to make sure we don't end up going after the same guy again. Ilya hurt your feelings? Find someone new. Who knows, maybe it'll make him jealous, and he'll come crawling back."
"I don't want him to come back."
(Y/N)'s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he slipped it out, rolling his eyes at Shane. "I doubt that, Hollander. It's Ilya. He's the best possible thing that could've happened to either of us. Nobody will treat us as good as he does."
Roz is calling. . .
(Y/N) studied the contact photo of the two of them, their cheeks pressed together after Ilya insisted on them taking a photo together at Niagara Falls and, of course, had to be dramatic about it.
(Y/N) was caught mid-laugh, and Ilya's smile was huge, his eyes bright with pure happiness. He let the call go to voicemail.
"Why don't you tell him?" Shane's voice was quiet, lacking the stoic seriousness it'd carried previously. It was unguarded.
"Because even if he does have feelings for me, he obviously likes you more. Don't you get it? He's been moping around since forever! He misses you, Shane. God, are you that fucking-" (Y/N) clamped his mouth shut, breathing in deeply. Relax. Relax. "You're so fucking perfect, Hollander. I hate-"
(Y/N) groaned at the flood of tears that came again, furiously rubbing at his eyes. He sniffled, grunting quietly, and pushed himself up onto his feet again. Shane followed, looking desperately as if he wanted to argue against his words, but had the common sense not to. (Y/N)'s following inhale was wet.
"Sorry." He muttered, licking his lips. "I... I can get... emotional, sometimes. I- I say things and do things I don't mean. I.."
(Y/N) rubbed his thumb over his middle finger, hard, nearly digging his blunt nail in. His face burned. He'd always been encouraged to stay quiet about it, to hide it away.
"I'm supposed to take, uhm, medication, but I... forget sometimes... Most times. Ilya- Ilya helps. He understands."
"Oh," Shane said breathily. "I didn't- I didn't realize-"
"I don't like talking about it." (Y/N) sighed. "There's a reason I said I'm an acquired taste, Shane. I... I fucked up when I slept with you, and I'm sorry if you expected something to come from it. I was annoyed and- and I acted on impulse. I.. I had a good time, okay? But I can't do it again. It's not right."
(Y/N) took a glance at his phone. Roz is calling. . .
"Look, Shane, you don't like me. Whatever you think you feel for me is- is lust at most, okay?"
"Don't tell me how I feel."
"Stop being so stubborn, fuck."
(Y/N) clutched his phone tight in his hand, his finger hovering over the bright screen key. He rubbed his lips together and watched the second call go to voicemail.
"You don't like me, okay? And it's not fair for you to act or say you do simply because- because you're curious about me or want me as your rebound."
Shane's head shook lightly. "I never said that."
"You didn't have to, Shane. Hooking up with rules after you get your heartbroken? That's rebound stuff. And, shit, don't act all innocent. You knew how close Ilya and I were. You hooked up with me for the same reason I hooked up with you: spite. You wanted to get one over Ilya."
"I didn't come onto you."
"You didn't rebuff me."
Silence filled the hallway, temporarily broken by the vibrations of his phone again. If he ignored Ilya Rozanov again, he'd have the whole of Los Angeles looking for him.
(Y/N) looked down at his phone again, his jaw clenching and unclenching, before he swiped up to answer the call with a text instead, assuring him he was on his way.
"I'm not having this conversation with you again, Hollander. Get back with Ilya, or find someone else, but we've done enough damage. We don't need to add to it."
(Y/N) shoved his phone in his pocket and rolled back his shoulders, hoping and praying his heart settled by the time he returned to Ilya.
"I'm going to- I'm going to do what is best for myself. I'm going to... let these feelings for Ilya go. If you want him, have him."
"I don't want to go through that again, (Y/N), and... and who's to say you and I-"
"There is no you and I, Shane! There can't be, and I refuse to break Ilya's fucking heart, okay? He's a good guy. Please, just- just let this go, okay? I'm not going to start something with you that's going to crash and burn immediately."
"Where have you been?"
(Y/N) smoothed his hands over his shirt to rid it of creases, forcing his mouth up into a casual smile. "Smoking." He answered with a light shrug, studying the people still hanging around the theater.
"Oh? How many? Ten? You took so long." Ilya's eyes felt as if they looked right through him. (Y/N) tried not to fidget. "You did not answer your phone, either."
"Low battery. I wanted to save it just in case. You never know."
Ilya's gaze lowered, his brows twitching. "Your tie is missing."
(Y/N)'s hands raised to pat around his chest, only feeling the polyester buttons brushing against his palm. "Oh, uh-" Shit. "It- It felt too tight, so I took it off. I probably forgot it somewhere."
"I made it loose so it would not bother you."
"I probably tightened it without meaning to."
"I feel like you are lying to me, (Y/N)." Ilya frowned. "Why?"
"I'm not, I swear." (Y/N)'s lungs felt empty. His eyes bounced around, searching for a server with drinks that he could down to ease his bumbling nerves. "I really did lose it somewhere. Probably the rooftop. Why- Why would you think I'm lying to you, Roz?"
Ilya's eyes flickered between his, his head lolling to the side. "You lied about your virginity, (Y/N). You lost it to that guy last season, no? You lied when you said it hadn't been your first time with another man. Are you.. seeing someone and not telling me? We don't keep secrets, (Y/N)."
The panic that'd been rising in (Y/N)'s spine dissipated immediately, his brows furrowing tightly. His lips parted, a small, trembling breath of disbelief slipping past.
"We don't keep secrets?" He repeated slowly, scoffing afterward.
"Yes, we- we tell each other everything- what is wrong?"
(Y/N) rubbed his hand over his face, chuckling breathlessly before he turned on his heel and made his way through the theater, snatching a glass of champagne from a tray along the way and pouring it into his mouth. He set it roughly at one of the tables and pushed his way through the doors, eager for fresh air and space and a fucking break.
The doors opened again and rattled close behind him. "(Y/N)-"
"I don't want to talk right now, Ilya."
"Why are you upset?"
Ilya's hands cupped around his elbow and tugged gently, pulling him back in. (Y/N) shook his hand off and took a deep, long breath. Ilya's frown deepened, the alarm clear as day in his bright eyes.
"What happened? You have been... so strange these past weeks, (Y/N)."
"When were you going to tell me that you like Hollander? That you've been hooking up with him since before the fucking Olympics? Or, were, I guess." Ilya's mouth fell open. "Jane, seriously? You didn't think I'd connect the fucking dots? He said you broke his heart, which I find a little hard to believe, but-"
Ilya's features went slack for a moment, and then tightened with confusion. "Wha- What do you mean? You and Hollander have been... talking? Since when?"
(Y/N)'s nose tickled with the urge to cry, but he was so exhausted. He wet his lips, breathing in quietly and blinking away the wetness in his eyes. He's your friend. He's your best friend. You'll never find another guy like him to tolerate you.
"We... We started talking at a hotel bar once, and... I got a lot off my chest, and tonight he got a lot off his. We're not friends, but we've spoken a handful of times. He's been more honest with me than you've been, Roz. I really... I really like you, Ilya. Maybe I'm- I'm even in love with you-"
"What?"
"-but I know that if you liked me back, you would've done or said something by now, so..." (Y/N) shrugged, feeling the slightest bit helpless. "I really don't want to have this conversation here, Ilya. I'm... I'm getting my own hotel room, and we can... I don't know, I want to go home. I want to be home. I-I want space."
"(Y/N)-"
(Y/N) raised his hand when Ilya tried to step closer, his head shaking. "Please, Ilya, just... just stop. I'm tired. I don't- I don't want to do this here. Shane's still around here somewhere, I'm pretty sure, but I'm leaving. I don't want you to follow me."
ugh did you see what happened Belmonts gf people are horrible
Yep!
It's internalized misogyny, and what's ironic is that most of those fans you'll see calling Raina (his partner) a clout chaser, fame hungry, attention hungry who doesn't deserve Belmont are the same people you'll see preaching about feminism. They're girls girls until inconvenienced.
Hello again! You have no idea how thrilled I was to see your response. I was so nervous before reading it, but it made me so happy to see that we share so many perspectives on the saga and your openness to discussion.
As an autistic person, I'm not here to assume everyone will react exactly the same way I did, but Shane's autism is one of the most significant points I felt while reading the story. I know Ilya changed, and that's good, but at the beginning of their relationship, there was massive ableism on Ilya's part, calling him a 'robot' or making assumptions about Shane. While the facts of the change are important, a sincere apology or a serious conversation for a few moments about that treatment wouldn't have been out of place. The fact that the narrative has Shane accept everything without a real apology leaves a very unbalanced situation.
Coming from a Honduran family, the contexts of migration and couples from different countries have a very deep and real meaning for me. That's why my biggest bewilderment and most shocking moment was when Ilya leaves Russia as if it were nothing. I think and feel that almost no one likes leaving their country for a new one, and even worse, having to choose between being in your homeland or choosing the person you love. Ilya doesn't seem to feel that way; it seems like Russia doesn't matter to him or doesn't affect him. Leaving behind his mother's grave... I understand his brother's situation, but his mother? Hating the laws of your country isn't the same as hating the streets, the neighborhoods, and the places where you were raised, its people, and everything else. Knowing that by choosing the person you love you'll never return... it's like reading an extremely privileged point of view from the author. Knowing the pain of not wanting to leave your homeland but having to (whether for a better future or because you're forced to choose between those two things) is, genuinely, one of the worst feelings in the world.
In fact, rereading the canon with that critical eye, there are details that drive me crazy because of how superficial they are. In 'The Long Game,' right in the middle of Ilya and Shane's wedding, there isn't even a mention or a single thought from Ilya about his mother! That shows that her trauma was only used as a prop to justify his rudeness at the beginning, but then the author forgot about her. I'm also shocked by how the saga uses women as mere screens or disposable objects before the characters come out, without giving them any dignity.
Talking about these flaws isn't wrong at all; on the contrary, it's wonderful to hear other points of view. I felt a little crazy noticing all this on my own, but seeing that you notice it too and that you use your fanfics to give Ilya and Shane the humanity, depth, and respect they deserve seems wonderful to me. I still love your fanfics with all my heart! Sending you a huge hug.🤍
P.S.: I'm still writing to you anonymously because I'm a very shy person and I get a little nervous interacting on social media, but I really value this space with you. I apologize again if my English isn't perfect or if it sounds a bit strange; I'm doing my best to translate my feelings from Spanish!😓🍀
I think a lot of romance stories suffer from steamrolling past character flaws, personality clashes, and drama in order for the characters to return to that sappy romance.
Even with the fight/silent treatment after the Olympics in HR, Shane is super upset and then he gets over it immediately in the bathroom scene. And then he gets upset about not kissing. And then he never brings it up with Ilya.
I definitely think that Rachel is more biased toward Ilya, and TLG shows it in the fact we primarily only see Ilya's struggles with his depression and Shane being the oblivious boyfriend.
The fact we don't even get to see him coming out to his team is ABSURD. The fact that his teammates take a don't ask, don't tell approach and we don't see how that impacts him is ABSURD.
This is why I think whenever something happens or is said that should make Shane upset with Ilya, it's glossed over because either A) Rachel doesn't have the experience to realize it's something upsetting or B) she doesn't view it as a big enough deal.
(And also there's this lack of acknowledgement about bad traits for the guys. Shane frequently acknowledges that he's not that good of a friend and shows it, but the fandom coincidentally forgets whenever they make him seem like the dad of the team(s). He's a distant cousin at most.)
I honestly just think Rachel Reid has a very westernized view of things. Russia is never really spoken about or viewed in a kind light, and while I understand Russia has massive flaws in their laws, politics, treatment of their own citizens and other countries, there are still things about it Ilya would love and miss.
It's still Ilya's home. It's where he grew up. Where he loved and lost his mother. Where he realized his sexuality and lost his virginity to both girls and guys. Where he met his best friend, Svetlana. Where he found and fell in love with hockey. Russia holds memories of half of Ilya's life.
It feels very much like what you'd find from westernized propaganda that Ilya leaves his 'horrible' home country and finds a 'real' home in a nice, sophisticated country like America and Canada. As if America and Canada don't have hugeeee problems themselves.
And yeah, I was going to bring this up in the previous response but I couldn't find a source for it. I vaguely remember an interview Rachel did (and granted, it could be an old one) where she said she has no interest in doing a WLW book.
Which is... interesting.. considering from what her hardcore fans spew she's bisexual. Wouldn't she want to represent queer woman since she is one, too, and there's a lack of happy WLW stories in the media?
(And I understand I might come across as hypocritical as a queer woman writing MLM, but I've written WLW and plan on doing a whole WLW series with Eloise Bridgerton and potentially Francesca.)
That, combined with the fact that both Rose and Svetlana are essentially used by Shane and Ilya as placeholders and rebounds (plus, Svetlana doesn't get nearly as much mention in the book as she does in the show. She's just there for Ilya to sleep with when he feels down), kinda feels the same as when straight woman scream, cry, and cheer over MLM (esp when it involves erotica) but claim they can't 'relate' to a WLW story.
The women are very much treated as disposable, used only to serve the male characters in their story, but never given any depth. Neither in the show nor book do any of the women pass the bechdel test LMAO. Not Yuna, not Jackie, not Rose, not Svetlana. None of 'em.
I can acknowledge that at the very least, the women aren't treated as villains trying to get in between Shane and Ilya, but still.
Two things absolutely changed my life as a writer. You ready?
One- Your characters can be bad people, they can do bad things. There doesn't have to be a reason or a moral. You can make them bad if you want to. No other reason needed.
Two- it doesn't have to be good, it just needs to be written. On my last book i literally wrote the words "dumbest version" on the top of the page because I had seen some advice to do that. It changed everything. I stopped trying to make it perfect, I just tried to make it. Period. Full stop. You can edit bad writing. You can't edit a blank page.
And honestly? Defiance is the best writing I've ever done. All because I let my characters be bad and I gave myself the freedom to write it badly.
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