UnicornMist



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    Ilya’s eyebrows raise. “This is a thing you want? For me to come inside you?”

    “Yeah—yeah.” Shane clears his throat. “It’s hot. Isn’t it?”

    “Can you not decide whether bare cock in your ass is hot?”

    “Fuck you. See if I let you—”

    Ilya takes Shane’s hand and presses a quiet kiss to his wrist, then the center of his palm. “You will let me.”

    ~~

    Or: Shane asks Ilya to fuck him without a condom.

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    17 Jun 2026

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    There is a strong scent of antiseptic in the air, the kind that always haunts hospitals and morgues. Ilya thinks it is fitting. He thinks, perhaps, that some vital organ of his is failing irreparably, and he is only waiting for a doctor to call out his time of death.

    “You have lost your memories.” It’s not a question. Ilya’s burning hand drops from Shane’s cheek.

    “Yeah,” Shane says easily. “Wait, shit, did no one tell you?”

    “Is it temporary.” Ilya’s voice is hoarse, pleading. “This memory loss, is it… tell me that it is temporary.” Please, please, God. I know I promised to give anything up, but-

    Shane looks at Ilya with wide eyes. “They don’t know,” he says gently. He seems to be catching onto Ilya’s distress despite the drugs in his system.

    Ilya feels cold all over. Yes, any moment now, they will cover him with a white sheet and take him away.

    Shane's concussion in S01E05 leaves him missing his memories from the last decade. Ilya is now the only person in the world who knows the truth about him and Shane, and is forced to question whether to burden Shane with their complicated relationship or to walk away.

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    17 Jun 2026

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    John is an empath. Which isn't nearly as much fun as it sounds. Most of the time, it’s not even useful.

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    16 Jun 2026

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    Shane watches Ilya shove a hand through his hair, waits for him to meet his eyes. “You pretend to want things, pretend I can have things that we both know you won’t let me have,” he says, his newfound self-esteem carrying him past the point of no return. He wishes he’d never discovered it, because it’s making Ilya’s face do something awful.

    “Oh, you mean I hurt your feelings?”

    Close enough, Shane supposes, his chest aching again. He goes to lift his hand again, sees Ilya zero in on the movement, doesn’t. “I guess so.”

    Ilya scoffs, mean and sharp. “So sorry, Hollander, I didn’t mean to make you get so emotional about a casual fuck.”
    Asshole. So many times he has lobbed the word at Ilya in exasperation, reluctant affection and disbelief, but now he thinks it with vitriolic anger. “I think you should go.”

    Shane finally decides that Ilya's ability to weaponise sex isn't enough for him anymore. Ilya doesn't take it well, but Shane holds firm. Then they start to text about it. Sort of.

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    16 Jun 2026

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    Somewhere between all the blurred and shaky lines, Ilya falls in love.

    Or: A collection of unsaid I love yous.

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    16 Jun 2026