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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    No serious hockey fan or sports commentator worth their salt would have considered record-breaking Boston superstar Ilya Rozanov to be Shane Hollander’s rival exactly, but sleeping with a man who had a specific offense-related vendetta against him and a wrist shot like a jet engine to back it up was probably ill-advised just the same.

    Or, Shane is a goalie. Ilya can’t score.

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    148,928
    Chapters:
    18/18
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    30 Mar 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    A few months after Shane and Ilya’s relationship is revealed, Twitter begins to speculate about the timeline of it all. Ilya fans the flames.

    Series
    Language:
    English
    Words:
    3,610
    Chapters:
    1/1
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    514
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    29 Mar 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    While in search of a roommate, Ilya comes across an interesting Facebook Marketplace listing from Shane Hollander.

    Language:
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    6,676
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    1/1
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    27 Mar 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Shane: Curse & Hex Removal Spell by SpellsfromNastya

    Rose: ???

    Shane: Trust me

    Shane: Just get it

    Rose: Why?

    Shane: You are probably cursed.

    or

    Ilya's Etsy witch reviews get exposed.

    Series
    Language:
    English
    Words:
    8,413
    Chapters:
    1/1
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    721
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    15,160
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    24 Mar 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “...Hollander,” He hears Rozanov say, urgent like it’s not the first time he’s said it. “Shane,” he follows it up with, and that snaps him out of it. He’s never called him that. Shane, reluctantly, lifts his face a little, eyes glazed over as he meets Rozanov’s eyes.

    “What?”

    “You stink,” Rozanov says, concern dripping. “No, you—fuck. You reek. What is—” Ilya’s fingers lift up, tugging at the scent patch, revealing more of the spot beneath it. Even Shane can smell himself at that point. He does reek. Reeks of heat, of Omega, of honey and sweetness, of something that would melt on your tongue.

    Shane reefs himself back. The Omega inside him aches, mourns, whimpers at the loss of contact. It’s needed, though. He scrambles back, hand slapping at his neck to force the peeled patch back down over his scent gland. He backs up till his spine knocks against the bathroom stall.

    “You are in heat at award show? Why would you hide this? Why would you not call out sick? Are you—are you insane? You care this much about trophy?”

    OR Shane goes into heat in Vegas

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    24 Mar 2026