Ginkgo & Moonflower @ginkgomoonflower - Tumblr Blog

Here's a round up of my Merlin fics currently on Patreon

They'll all end up on AO3 eventually, but if you'd like to support my work and keep me writing (or if you just can't wait for the next chapter!) then join the Ivy Dragon Tier ($3 a month).

7 day trial also available for free! Can you read them all in that time? Who needs sleep anyway?

For the Love of Dragons

Canon era - AU of The Last Dragonlord S02 E13. Comedy with a heavy dash of hurt/comfort, sickfic.

Arthur is relieved when Balinor the Dragonlord agrees to help, but dismayed when he refuses to come back to Camelot. Instead, Arthur is stuck waiting in the middle of nowhere while Balinor calls the dragon. To make matters worse, Arthur’s idiot manservant clearly has a massive crush on the guy: despite him being a grumpy, straggly, cave-dwelling sorcerer, who makes terrible cabbage pottage, Merlin hasn’t taken his eyes off him! Arthur will tolerate this nonsense for a couple of days, but only because he must save Camelot.

Jenny Grinteeth

An eerie Merthur folklore tale, heavy on the hurt/comfort. 17,514 words.

“Never wander alone, my darling, or Jenny Grinteeth will get you,” Hunith used to say. “Or if you forget, make sure you say the rhyme - that wards her off.”

Jenny Grinteeth leave me be, my mother loves me, leave me be.

Jenny Grinteeth is a game they play. But as Merlin is sucked into life at Camelot, he wanders alone more than ever. He is surrounded by people, but he doubts they love him; they can’t really even know him. The loneliness becomes so routine, he forgets his mother’s warnings and the funny, little rhymes, which might otherwise have saved his life.

Amber and Wild Thyme

Canon era AU of S01 E10 - The Moment of Truth.

When Hunith arrives in Camelot with news of an attack, Merlin knows what he has to do. He is perfectly capable of driving away the likes of Kanen’s men by himself; he has been defending Ealdor since he was ten years old.

However, he has no idea of the lengths Arthur will go to to protect his poor, misguided manservant - such as adopting a disguise and following him home.

Waves of Magic; Heed the Tide

Canon era Merthur. Forest Magic. Hurt/Comfort. 7,146 words.

How can Merlin be so competent and so useless at the same time? He could be the best hunter in the land; Arthur has caught him hiding animal tracks more often than anybody else has managed to find them! But when Merlin's connection to the forest goes wrong, Arthur must put his own skills to the test.

Dandelions

Canon era, Fluffy one-shot, 3000 words

Arthur and Gwen are on a picnic date having a perfectly lovely, happy time together. Merlin is there too. He's very distracting. His big, stupid eyes. His funny, stupid jokes. His gentle, stupid hands. Arthur thought he knew who the third wheel was, but now he's beginning to wonder…

Heart Wound

A canon era, whumpy, magic reveal Merthur. 11,375 words.

Prince Arthur did not intend to bring Merlin on patrol, he didn’t even know his manservant could ride a horse. But he can’t say no to that grin, not when Merlin has gone and packed and saddled up a horse for himself without asking. It’s a dull, routine patrol along the border, almost a formality at this point. Even if magic is legal in Escetir, they’ve held a peace treaty with Camelot for over a decade; it's unlikely they'll see any danger.

But what Arthur does not know is that the recent spike in deaths of magical creatures in Camelot has not gone unnoticed. There are whispers that King Uther is a liar and a hypocrite, now secretly rebuilding his magical defence. And to bring sorcery to the border - well, now that would be an act of aggression tantamount to declaring war.

A Strike in Time

Canon era AU, whumpy, magic reveal gone wrong. 2900 words.

It was all too quick: an arrow jolted into Arthur’s back with a fleshy thud, Arthur cried out. There were five more in the air, one pointing to Arthur's heart. Merlin flung himself forward, threw his arms out and felt his magic scream out of him in a blaze of fire. The remaining arrows crackled into nothing. He yelled again and archer after archer fell, thumping to the ground.

And Arthur spun around, his sword swooping up and slashing back down in one smooth movement. A perfect arc to target Merlin’s neck. And Merlin had no time to shout, no time to gasp, no time to move back. The sword swung too large in his vision, too close, the edge of the blade snagged in his neckscarf, cutting right through to his skin.

Time stopped.

Fan Fiction | Illustrations | Original Writing

youweremovingyourfeet

Heated Rivalry Fic Rec: Under 10k Hits

So I saw this post and after loving many of the fics on that list, thought about how 20k is still a ton of hits (i know we're grading on a curve with the insanity of this fandom), so I thought I'd pull together my absolute favorite fics with <10k (SOMEHOW)

ginkgomoonflower

#can't wait to dip into all these #thanks for including my little ficlet!

ginkgomoonflower

Mom's the Word - Chapter 1

Shane tuts as he stares at the television screen. Ilya is pressed between the wall and the mic, wiping sweat from his forehead. He is fidgeting, full of restless energy, but Shane can tell he's exhausted. His eyes are looking sharp and his mouth is twisted into a frown. He looks every bit as intimidating as the first time they met.

It's a live broadcast and the questions have been dragging on way too long. “Come on,” Shane murmurs. They need to wrap it up soon. He's pretty sure Ilya has been favouring his right leg ever since Fyrer smashed him into the boards. He looks like he's holding his wrist stiffly too. He should be lying down, resting, having ice and food brought to him. What are they playing at? Shane taps his phone against his thigh. Come on. He wants to hear Ilya’s voice, a whisper in his ear alone, not this weary shouting to the press.

Another interviewer snaps her hand up. “Rozanov! What do you say to the rumours that you are seeing Yuna Hollander romantically?”

Ilya blinks. Shane stops breathing. Then, slowly, Ilya's face splits into an enormous, toothy grin. A smile of vicious, mischievous amusement.

“No,” whispers Shane, coming forward off the couch to kneel before the television. “No, no, no.”

“There are rumours,” Ilya repeats, eyes gleaming, “that I am seeing Yuna? Shane Hollander's mother… romantically?” A laugh bubbles out of him, a cackle of delight. Shane glares, he wants to shake him, he goes as far as putting his hands together in prayer… but it's no good. Ilya’s whole face has lit up. “Well, Yuna Hollander is a very beautiful lady,” he says thoughtfully.

“She has been spotted attending your matches alone,” the same reporter shouts over the rising hubbub.

“She has? Well, well.” Ilya’s grin is gleeful. “I will look out for her next time.”

Shane groans and slides to the floor, closing his eyes and pulling at his hair. “Please, Ilya. No. Shut up.” The horrible patterned, hotel carpet is scratchy against his cheek.

“Mmm,” Ilya’s voice is rough, flirty. “It’s just rumours. It is true that I have given pleasure to many, many women. But sadly, not to Yuna Hollander. Shane Hollander, I promise, your mother is safe with me. I won't do anything to her. At least, nothing that she doesn't want me to do.” Shane opens his eyes just in time to see Ilya blow a kiss right at the camera, then wink once more.

Shane is still cringing on the floor as the interview finishes. His phone starts to buzz immediately afterwards - Hayden calling. Shane frowns down at it as he answers.

“Is this why you hate him so much?” Hayden asks, sounding uncertain. “Has your mother really been having an affair - ”

“No!” Shane snaps. “No! I don't hate him. They're not having an affair. Please, please, don't put that image in my mind.”

“Are you sure?” Hayden's voice is thick with concern. “There's a photo of her with her arm around him at one of your charity things?”

“We’re friends! They're friends now!” says Shane wildly. “We've had him over for lunch! There's nothing, he's not, she's not…”

“Hey, it's ok… Shane, just breathe. Breathe. Just… it might be worth thinking it over. When you're calm. There's a lot of pictures of them together. Have you talked to her?”

“I'm not going to insult my mother by asking her if she's seeing Ilya Rozanov.”

“No, I mean - perhaps you might want to ask why she's been attending those matches? I mean, if there's an innocent explanation, if she was just collecting game data, I don't know. It's just weird that she was there and didn't tell you. He moved to Ottawa for no obvious reason… what if - ”

This is so far out of Shane's depth he hangs up. Hayden tries to ring him back but he ignores it.

The next call he does accept is from Yuna.

“Darling,” she starts and Shane just groans. “It's ok, it’s ok,” she says. “Shane!” He can hear the smile in her voice and does not appreciate it. “It will be ok. This could even work as a good cover for you.”

“No, Mom, what?” Shane reels and scrambles back to his feet. “What are you saying?”

“I’m just saying, if the press wants to speculate that we're having an affair, it's a good distraction from you two. You know. Until you're ready.”

“Please, please, don't encourage this. This is so messed up. What does Dad say?”

“Oh, we've both been having a good chuckle over it.”

“I don't want… you can't…”

“Darling, we are not going to stop going to Ilya’s matches. I was sceptical when you first asked us but I think you're right. He's wearing himself real thin right now. When I dropped off some pasta at his place the other day, he nearly cried. I made Ilya Romanov cry. With pasta. He's not doing ok.”

Shane kneads his fist into his forehead. This can't be happening. He has been worried about Ilya for some time. Now Shane knows the anniversary of Irina’s death, he can't believe he never noticed how Ilya gets colder and more driven around this time every year. How his smiles are harder to pull from the stone of his face. When it gets this bad, Ilya will refuse to leave practice until he has pushed his body as far as it can go, too far, too hard, and he will smoke and drink twice as much to deal with all the extra aches and bruises. He needs people around him, cheering him on, reminding him he’s more than hockey. More than pain.

But Shane Hollander can't just start attending Ilya Rozanov’s matches out of nowhere. They've slowly been working up to the angle that they could be friends. The charity work is going so much better than Shane expected. He never thought he'd find anything that gives him the same rush as hockey, but the charity fills a space in his heart he never knew he had. The thrill of seeing it do well is tinged with a different kind of pride. Deeper and quieter, but just as necessary as hockey. So there have been plenty of photos of him and Ilya working together. Some even where they're hugging or looking emotional. He has kept quite a few of them. But it hasn't gotten far enough that it would go unremarked if Shane started watching his games. And besides, Shane's barely got time to breathe under his own schedule.

So when Shane was worried enough, when Ilya was starting to sound ragged on the phone, like he hadn't slept in days, Shane went to his parents. Both of them were keen to check in on Ilya and the Centaurs. Shane had thought it would be better if each of them alternated games. Easier to fly under the radar when travelling solo, just one face in the crowd. Shane's an idiot.

“I love you, Sweetie, but I'm going to let you go,” Yuna is still on the line. Shane's been quiet too long. “Call Ilya. This is all going to be fine. Tell him we send our love. Tell him I’m winking back at him.”

“Mom! No!”

“Oh, your father says he’s winking too!” She guffaws down the line and Shane hangs up.

This is an actual nightmare. He presses his palms over his eyes and counts to 300. Then, he looks at his phone again. He has 3 missed calls from Lily. When he rings back, Ilya laughs for a solid five minutes. He is laughing as hard as Shane has ever heard him, barely managing to get out, “Your mom, Hollander!” before peals of hysterical laughter cascade once more.

Shane finds himself smiling too. “You're an asshole!” he says. Ilya just laughs harder. “And Mom is just as bad. She told me to tell you they're both winking back at you.”

“Hollander no, I can't keep laughing, my ribs hurt,” Ilya howls. “Tell her… tell them…”

“Fuck. Off,” says Shane. “I'm not telling them anything.”

“Jealous, Hollander?”

Shane makes a retching noise. “Please, no. God. Stop talking.”

But the thing is, if the ridiculous idea has cheered Ilya up this much, Shane can't bring himself to totally hate it.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

ginkgomoonflower

AO3 my beloved, are you ok?

#heated rivalry #hollanov #ao3 is down #ao3 outage #ao3

ginkgomoonflower

Come to my House

Ilya's heart is pounding hard, as though he's just smashed through a defense line. He can be brave, just like dinosaur Scott Hunter. He grips his phone tight to his ear, so tight his fingers are aching. "I am coming to the cottage," he declares.

There is silence on the other end. And then, "uh... how do you know about my cottage?" Shane asks.

Ilya pauses, thrown. He kneads his fist into his chest where it is starting to hurt. "You asked me," he says. "You said 'come to my cottage.' "

"No, I didn't."

Ilya stares at his phone. His fingers are trembling. He doesn't gasp, or cry or flinch but he feels almost light-headed and can't think of a single thing to say. He considers hanging up.

"I wanted to ask you," Shane clarifies. "But then I got knocked out."

Ilya closes his eyes, relief whooshing through him so fast he feels wobbly. A smile creeps over his face. "Hollander," he says. "You did ask. You were fucking high, at the hospital. You don't remember?"

"No? What did I say?"

“You said, ‘Come to my cottage this summer. Don't go to Russia. Come to my house. It will be fun. I will suck your cock every morning for two weeks.’ "

"I did not!"

"I'm pretty sure you did, actually. You promised. You said, 'we will do yoga outside with you in my mouth. You will get to see all my pretty arching up close.' "

"No way I said that," Shane scoffs.

"You're going to break your promises?"

"Ok, the first bit I can believe because that's pretty much what I wrote down to say but the rest... no."

"Shane! You were high. Clearly this is deepest desire of your heart, can only be revealed while on drugs. You said 'come to the cottage, make me tuna melts every day and I will let you fuck me in the lake.' "

"No, Ilya," Shane wheezes with laughter.

"Oh very nice, he invites me to his cottage then un-invites me! Famous American hosting not so good now, is it?"

"Asshole. I'm Canadian. And you're still invited. Please come."

"Oh, I will."

"Good," says Shane.

"Good," says Ilya.

"I'm looking forward to it. I'll make up the guest bedroom," Shane adds.

Ilya splutters.

"Oh," says Shane. "You want the couch instead? You want to camp in the garden?"

"No."

"Hmmm. Well, maybe I can share. I don't want you doubting Canadian hospitality."

"Ok, Hollander. I will sleep where you tell me."

"You will sleep where I sleep."

"Then we will not be sleeping."

"For two weeks?"

"You did not know? Russians do not sleep in summer."

"Sure. Russians do not sleep, do not blush, do not cuddle."

"This is what you think of me? Russians cuddle. We would win gold medal in cuddle."

"Prove it."

Ilya can hear Shane's breathlessness. "Hmm. Ok." He taps his finger against his lip. "I will prove this. Give me the time and the address. I'll come. Goodbye, Hollander. Don't ring any more bells. Clearly not much brain left, so the rest is precious."

"Shut up! I won't. Goodbye. See you soon."

"Soon," Ilya smiles. He hangs up the phone and presses it to his lips.

ginkgomoonflower

AO3 is down, here have a ficlet to snack on while you wait

#Heated Rivalry #ao3 is down #ao3 outage #hollanov #the cottage

ginkgomoonflower

Wild Ice

"You're sure it's safe?" Ilya frowns at the dark, green-blue ice. "Lakes can be tricky."

"I'm sure," says Shane. "I've skated here the last few winters. I've drilled all over; it’s 7 inches thick, minimum. Just don't go past my markers, it gets thinner to the South."

"Hmmm," Ilya considers, still inspecting. He stamps his skate and the ice makes a laser-like whoop, an ethereal sound. Ilya shivers and then laughs. "Ok. Should be fine.” He pushes off, his skates scratching white lines across the dark depths. His gliding strides are measured, calm. “It's very nice here. So quiet."

"Yeah." It's one of the things Shane first loved about the cottage. Skating here feels like skating on the moon.

Of course with Ilya, it's not peaceful for long. He’s a chirper. So, Shane has to chase him. They race forwards and back, again and again, sliding past one another, catching back up. The ice is butter smooth. There are frozen plants curled deep beneath them and when the leaves thin out, you can see all the way down to fathomless water, like flying over a cliff. The ice chirps and warbles, calling to them.

When Shane is tiring, he nearly trips. He swears, his legs trembling. Ilya laughs and holds out his hand. Shane can't resist reaching for it, but Ilya speeds up, making him work for it. Shane pushes forward and grabs it; Ilya pulls him faster, almost too fast and then they're skating side by side, gliding together, hand in hand.

"We could be figure skaters," Shane jokes.

Ilya gives him a look Shane doesn't understand.

"What?" Shane asks.

Ilya lets go. Shane slows, but Ilya speeds up. He starts to skate differently. Tenderly. It's like all the snapping, crackling fire in him has turned to water. He undulates over the ice, leaning into his turns like a ballet dancer.

Shane stumbles, then manages to halt himself. He stares. Ilya winks at him as he sweeps past, swaying across the ice with the grace of a bird, dipping and rising like sun on the ocean. He lets himself lean way over to one side, so far Shane's sure he will fall, but he doesn't. He spirals softly into a spin, raising his arms above his head.

Shane has never seen him move like this on the ice. It's a bit like the way he sways and rocks when he gives his whole body to Shane, when he is pressing all his rolling rhythm and affection into him. Shane coughs and feels his cheeks warm. He tries to clear his throat and only manages to splutter.

Ilya beams at Shane as he circles back round again, languid, leisurely, somehow sliding into complex, fiddly moves, jumps and hops and criss-crossing changes of direction, making them all look as easy as silk over skin. Shane can't move, can't speak; he's scared to breathe in case he breaks this spell.

Then Ilya flings himself forward, sprints across the ice with all his usual racing, hurricane energy, and throws himself into a somersault. He lands a little awkwardly on one foot but doesn't fall. He laughs at himself and skates back to Shane, his face red.

"Fucking hell," breathes Shane. "When? How? What?"

Ilya shrugs. "My mother skated very well. It was our secret. She taught me. There was a lake not far from our house. Very quiet. Just us two."

"Oh," says Shane. "Oh." He is struggling to keep a hold of his voice. He breathes slowly until he thinks he can control it and then says, "it was beautiful. You skate... so beautifully." Despite his effort, his voice still hitches, cracking on the last word.

Ilya's face snaps up to look at him. "Are you crying, Hollander?"

"No," Shane lies. Then gives it away by sniffling and having to swipe at his eyes.

Ilya snorts then presses himself all along Shane's chest, closing in on him to rub his cold nose against Shane's wet cheek. Shane can't hold it in longer, his whole chest shudders and he lets out a sob.

"Why are you crying?" Ilya laughs, all astonishment. "Милый? It was not that bad, was it?"

"It was so beautiful," Shane whispers. "You looked like... God, I don't know."

"I looked like God?" Ilya smirks.

"No! I mean... well, yeah. Pretty much. A Greek god, maybe. You were unreal. If I didn't already love you, I would have fallen in love all over again. So beautiful."

"Silly," Ilya shushes him. "You say too many silly things."

Shane shakes his head. "No, Ilya. It was the nicest thing I've ever seen," he insists. "I can't believe you can skate like that. Please, never stop skating like that."

Ilya scoffs and ruffles Shane's hair, but he's smiling. "Ok," he says.

ginkgomoonflower

AO3 is down! Here have a little fluffy ficlet to keep you going

#heated rivalry #fanfiction #heated rivalry fic #heated rivalry fanfic #ao3 is down #ao3 outage #ao3 #hollander x rozanov #shane x ilya #shane hollander #ilya rozanov #hollanov

Wild Ice

"You're sure it's safe?" Ilya frowns at the dark, green-blue ice. "Lakes can be tricky."

"I'm sure," says Shane. "I've skated here the last few winters. I've drilled all over; it’s 7 inches thick, minimum. Just don't go past my markers, it gets thinner to the South."

"Hmmm," Ilya considers, still inspecting. He stamps his skate and the ice makes a laser-like whoop, an ethereal sound. Ilya shivers and then laughs. "Ok. Should be fine.” He pushes off, his skates scratching white lines across the dark depths. His gliding strides are measured, calm. “It's very nice here. So quiet."

"Yeah." It's one of the things Shane first loved about the cottage. Skating here feels like skating on the moon.

Of course with Ilya, it's not peaceful for long. He’s a chirper. So, Shane has to chase him. They race forwards and back, again and again, sliding past one another, catching back up. The ice is butter smooth. There are frozen plants curled deep beneath them and when the leaves thin out, you can see all the way down to fathomless water, like flying over a cliff. The ice chirps and warbles, calling to them.

When Shane is tiring, he nearly trips. He swears, his legs trembling. Ilya laughs and holds out his hand. Shane can't resist reaching for it, but Ilya speeds up, making him work for it. Shane pushes forward and grabs it; Ilya pulls him faster, almost too fast and then they're skating side by side, gliding together, hand in hand.

"We could be figure skaters," Shane jokes.

Ilya gives him a look Shane doesn't understand.

"What?" Shane asks.

Ilya lets go. Shane slows, but Ilya speeds up. He starts to skate differently. Tenderly. It's like all the snapping, crackling fire in him has turned to water. He undulates over the ice, leaning into his turns like a ballet dancer.

Shane stumbles, then manages to halt himself. He stares. Ilya winks at him as he sweeps past, swaying across the ice with the grace of a bird, dipping and rising like sun on the ocean. He lets himself lean way over to one side, so far Shane's sure he will fall, but he doesn't. He spirals softly into a spin, raising his arms above his head.

Shane has never seen him move like this on the ice. It's a bit like the way he sways and rocks when he gives his whole body to Shane, when he is pressing all his rolling rhythm and affection into him. Shane coughs and feels his cheeks warm. He tries to clear his throat and only manages to splutter.

Ilya beams at Shane as he circles back round again, languid, leisurely, somehow sliding into complex, fiddly moves, jumps and hops and criss-crossing changes of direction, making them all look as easy as silk over skin. Shane can't move, can't speak; he's scared to breathe in case he breaks this spell.

Then Ilya flings himself forward, sprints across the ice with all his usual racing, hurricane energy, and throws himself into a somersault. He lands a little awkwardly on one foot but doesn't fall. He laughs at himself and skates back to Shane, his face red.

"Fucking hell," breathes Shane. "When? How? What?"

Ilya shrugs. "My mother skated very well. It was our secret. She taught me. There was a lake not far from our house. Very quiet. Just us two."

"Oh," says Shane. "Oh." He is struggling to keep a hold of his voice. He breathes slowly until he thinks he can control it and then says, "it was beautiful. You skate... so beautifully." Despite his effort, his voice still hitches, cracking on the last word.

Ilya's face snaps up to look at him. "Are you crying, Hollander?"

"No," Shane lies. Then gives it away by sniffling and having to swipe at his eyes.

Ilya snorts then presses himself all along Shane's chest, closing in on him to rub his cold nose against Shane's wet cheek. Shane can't hold it in longer, his whole chest shudders and he lets out a sob.

"Why are you crying?" Ilya laughs, all astonishment. "Милый? It was not that bad, was it?"

"It was so beautiful," Shane whispers. "You looked like... God, I don't know."

"I looked like God?" Ilya smirks.

"No! I mean... well, yeah. Pretty much. A Greek god, maybe. You were unreal. If I didn't already love you, I would have fallen in love all over again. So beautiful."

"Silly," Ilya shushes him. "You say too many silly things."

Shane shakes his head. "No, Ilya. It was the nicest thing I've ever seen," he insists. "I can't believe you can skate like that. Please, never stop skating like that."

Ilya scoffs and ruffles Shane's hair, but he's smiling. "Ok," he says.

#fanfiction #heated rivalry #tooth rotting fluff #heated rivalry fic #heated rivalry fanfic #heated rivalry ilya #heated rivalry shane #post canon #shane x ilya #shane hollander #ilya rozanov #shane hollander is obsessed with ilya rozanov #hollanov #hollander x rozanov #the gay hockey show #heated rivalry ficlet #happy valentine's day

Come to my House

Ilya's heart is pounding hard, as though he's just smashed through a defense line. He can be brave, just like dinosaur Scott Hunter. He grips his phone tight to his ear, so tight his fingers are aching. "I am coming to the cottage," he declares.

There is silence on the other end. And then, "uh... how do you know about my cottage?" Shane asks.

Ilya pauses, thrown. He kneads his fist into his chest where it is starting to hurt. "You asked me," he says. "You said 'come to my cottage.' "

"No, I didn't."

Ilya stares at his phone. His fingers are trembling. He doesn't gasp, or cry or flinch but he feels almost light-headed and can't think of a single thing to say. He considers hanging up.

"I wanted to ask you," Shane clarifies. "But then I got knocked out."

Ilya closes his eyes, relief whooshing through him so fast he feels wobbly. A smile creeps over his face. "Hollander," he says. "You did ask. You were fucking high, at the hospital. You don't remember?"

"No? What did I say?"

“You said, ‘Come to my cottage this summer. Don't go to Russia. Come to my house. It will be fun. I will suck your cock every morning for two weeks.’ "

"I did not!"

"I'm pretty sure you did, actually. You promised. You said, 'we will do yoga outside with you in my mouth. You will get to see all my pretty arching up close.' "

"No way I said that," Shane scoffs.

"You're going to break your promises?"

"Ok, the first bit I can believe because that's pretty much what I wrote down to say but the rest... no."

"Shane! You were high. Clearly this is deepest desire of your heart, can only be revealed while on drugs. You said 'come to the cottage, make me tuna melts every day and I will let you fuck me in the lake.' "

"No, Ilya," Shane wheezes with laughter.

"Oh very nice, he invites me to his cottage then un-invites me! Famous American hosting not so good now, is it?"

"Asshole. I'm Canadian. And you're still invited. Please come."

"Oh, I will."

"Good," says Shane.

"Good," says Ilya.

"I'm looking forward to it. I'll make up the guest bedroom," Shane adds.

Ilya splutters.

"Oh," says Shane. "You want the couch instead? You want to camp in the garden?"

"No."

"Hmmm. Well, maybe I can share. I don't want you doubting Canadian hospitality."

"Ok, Hollander. I will sleep where you tell me."

"You will sleep where I sleep."

"Then we will not be sleeping."

"For two weeks?"

"You did not know? Russians do not sleep in summer."

"Sure. Russians do not sleep, do not blush, do not cuddle."

"This is what you think of me? Russians cuddle. We would win gold medal in cuddle."

"Prove it."

Ilya can hear Shane's breathlessness. "Hmm. Ok." He taps his finger against his lip. "I will prove this. Give me the time and the address. I'll come. Goodbye, Hollander. Don't ring any more bells. Clearly not much brain left, so the rest is precious."

"Shut up! I won't. Goodbye. See you soon."

"Soon," Ilya smiles. He hangs up the phone and presses it to his lips.

#heated rivalry fanfic #heated rivalry fic #heated rivalry #heated rivalry shane #heated rivalry ilya #gay hockey show #shilya #shane hollander #ilya rozanov #shane x ilya #rozanov #hollander #ilya #hollanov #microfiction #heated rivarly spoilers #heated rivalry 1x05 #heated rivalry ficlet

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Ok, Shane spoke too soon. He hates it. He hates it so much. Why did he never see that Yuna and Ilya are the same? At their core, they are both agents of chaos. They both get some weird kick out of messing with the media. Yuna has hidden that side of herself so well, it's only looking back that Shane now realises management has always been a bit of a game to her. A serious game, in the same way that hockey is a game. But she has been living for the thrill of it. She plays to conquer.

And now, the speculation has gone wild. It's completely ridiculous! Yuna and Ilya smirk at one another and it makes headlines. When she waves from the crowd, Ilya waves back and there are hour long debates about it on Youtube. David has now also been caught attending matches; he was photographed staring at Ilya so fondly, several papers published exposés debating whether it’s a triangle or a threesome.

Shane can’t take it. The ribbing from the guys has been relentless. And some, like Hayden, seem genuinely concerned, which is even worse. Shane doesn't know what to do. He wishes he could play it cool, laugh along, but he's wound up far too tight. And the more he shouts out denials, the more frantically he begs them to shut up, the more he can see them all thinking, “oh shit… is this real?”

#heated rivalry fic #heated rivalry fanfic #heated rivalry #shane x ilya #hollanov #shane hollander #ilya rozanov #bisexual menace ilya rozanov

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Summary:

Shane tuts as he stares at the television screen. It's a live broadcast and the questions have been dragging on way too long. “Come on,” Shane murmurs. They need to wrap it up soon; Ilya looks exhausted and he's favouring his right side. Another interviewer snaps her hand up. “Rozanov! What do you say to the rumours that you are seeing Yuna Hollander romantically?” Ilya blinks. Shane stops breathing. Then Ilya's face splits into an enormous, toothy grin. A smile of vicious, mischievous amusement. “No,” whispers Shane, coming forwards off the couch to kneel before the television. “No, no, no.”

#heated rivalry #heated rivalry fic #heated rivalry fanfic #heated rivalry fandom #bisexual menace Ilya Rozanov #ilya rozanov #shane hollander #shane x ilya #the gay hockey show #autistic shane hollander #heated rivalry ilya #heated rivalry shane #yuna hollander #david hollander

rosieandthemoon

maureen2musings

Window view, Nagano Prefecture, Japan

@_nana_photography

fantastic-forest

enchantedbook

Art by Art by Andrea Calisi

Heated Rivalry Episode 3 thoughts...

Smoothie man is an idiot! If you add banana to blueberries you are preventing yourself from absorbing the blueberry flavonoids and it massively reduces the nutritional value! Gahhhh what a mistake. I can only assume this is ominous foreshadowing of their doom

#heated rivalry #Heated Rivalry first watch #Then they made a smoothie but didn't drink it until after sex?! Drink that immediately if you want the vitamins!! What are they amateurs?!#They're cuties though #I'll forgive them

seabeck

Creekbed

seabeck

An umbrella for a rainy day

Chapter 15 - Confession of fault is next to innocence.

Amber and Wild Thyme update day! Chapter 15 now on patreon.

Get more from Ginkgo and Moonflower Writing and Illustration on Patreon

#merlin fanfic #merthur #merlin bbc #merlin x arthur #fanfiction #merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #bbc merlin #bbc merthur

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Ginkgo & Moonflower