21 – 29 of 29 Works in Mildly Dubious Consent
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Shane turns bright red, his freckles showing up as lighter pink specks against the dusky color of his cheeks. “It’s not like… I haven’t been… I don’t have a crush on you or anything!” “Why not?” Hayden demands, too shocked to filter his words. “We’re best friends! I’d have a crush on you if I was gay!” Shane gapes up at him. Jackie puts her hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing. Hayden realizes, far too late, how that must have sounded. Well, at this point, it’s too late for him to do anything other than lean into it, right? He folds his arms across his chest. “I mean, jeez, man, am I not hot enough for you?” Hayden Pike has a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day. And then, just to make it worse, Ilya Rozanov shows up.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 11,113
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #78387471
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Shane and Ilya are hunkering down at the cottage for the 2020 lockdown. They enjoy each other. (Shane throws his ass in a circle).
- Part 1 of Locked Down
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,507
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77762976
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“Wait,” Ilya swallows. Fuck fuck fuck. What is he doing? He shouldn’t offer this. They shouldn’t do this. If he were responsible, he would stand up and help Shane get dressed and order him a ride. Offering what he really wants to do is dangerous. It crosses the line. He does it anyway. “Stay,” Ilya sits up, vision swimming. It seems that extra vodka has caught up with him. Shane hesitates, and Ilya feels the need to explain himself a little better. “We are too drunk to have sex, but you can sleep it off here.” ______________ After leaving an after-party for an award show, Ilya and Shane meet up for a hook-up. Ilya realizes that they have both drank too much to have sex, so he offers for Shane to spend the night instead and sleep it off. Before they fall asleep though, Shane says something he shouldn't.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,171
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77524936
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Shane Hollander, hockey prodigy and captain of the Montreal Metros, has a secret: he's an omega. No one knows, not even his frequent hookup partner, Ilya Rozanov. Shane's carefully-cultivated life threatens to unravel when he forgets his medication. Now he's stuck in the middle of nowhere, on the brink of a heat. Enter Ilya, cocky and arrogant alpha, who is determined to help Shane though his heat... and keep his secret. Neither of them can predict the effect they will have on each other, and how one week in a snowed-in cabin will change the course of their lives forever.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 20,096
- Chapters:
- 7/7
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77410776
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“Why are you out here alone?” Ilya asks. “Who left you here?” Hesitantly, Shane’s eyes cast up at the apartment building. Ilya follows his gaze, confused. “I’m sorry,” Shane says softly, “I went home with someone.” Ilya’s head snaps in his direction. “What?” -an episode 4 au where shane goes home with the bartender instead of rose, and it goes very, very poorly-
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,818
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77178106
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Secret Heat by a_stray_thief (ashtraythief)
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-03
For as long as Shane can remember, he wanted to play hockey. Nothing will stop him, and since there are no omegas in hockey, no one can know about Shane. Not even Ilya Rozanov, the first alpha who ever manages to get through Shane’s carefully crafted defenses. With a fucking water bottle, of all things.
- Part 1 of omega verse hollanov
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,368
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77018846
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A strong arm caught him easily, guiding him back against the shelves. The force was inhuman but controlled and gentle. The vampire leaned in, close enough that Shane could feel the chill radiating from him. “I did not come here to frighten you,” he said softly, forehead nearly brushing Shane’s. “I came to ask you on a date.” The library had settled into its late-hour stillness. Most of the overhead lights had been extinguished, leaving only a handful of brass-shaded lamps burning overhead, their yellow glow casting long shadows across the reading tables and towering shelves. Dust hung faintly in the air, visible when Shane shifted beneath the light. The place smelled of old paper, leather bindings, and furniture polish. Shane sat alone at one of the long oak tables, collar loosened, sleeves rolled to his forearms. He scratched absently at the back of his neck as his eyes dragged over the same line of text for what felt like the hundredth time. The words refused to stick. His head throbbed faintly, and the wire frames of his spectacles pinched at his temples. The clock mounted high on the wall ticked loudly in the quiet. He let out a muted groan and dropped his forehead against the tabletop, careful not to knock his books over. “Now then,” came a voice from the aisle, firm but not unkind. “You know better than that, young man. No sleeping in the reading room.” Shane lifted his head and found the librarian approaching, a stern woman in sensible shoes pushing a cart stacked neatly with returned volumes. Her hair was pinned tight at the nape of her neck, her eyes sharp behind round lenses. “Sorry, ma’am,” Shane murmured, rubbing his face with both hands. There was no arguing it. He snapped his book shut, slid it into his satchel along with his notes, and cinched the strap tight. His studies could wait until morning. Tonight, his mind was finished. He shrugged into his dusty brown leather jacket, smoothing it down out of habit, then slung the satchel over his shoulder and made his way toward the heavy front doors. Outside, the cold greeted him sharply. Winter had settled in earnest, the air biting and dry as it rushed over his face. His nose stung immediately, cheeks flushing red as he exhaled into his cupped hands. The street was quiet, save for the distant hum of an automobile somewhere far off. He lingered beneath the stone archway, shifting on his feet to keep warm, before stepping out onto the path. A cloud of smoke drifted across his vision. He coughed softly and turned his head, squinting into the gloom. For a moment, he thought it was just shadow pooled against the building. Then he saw the ember. A bright orange glow flared briefly, illuminating a cigarette between pale fingers. Shane blinked and did a double take, turning fully now as the rest of the figure resolved itself under the lamplight. The man stood half-hidden near the wall, tall and broad-shouldered, coat collar turned up against the cold. Curly, light-colored hair fell loosely across his forehead. Even in the dim light, his skin appeared unnaturally pale. Shane felt suddenly aware of himself. Of the emptiness of the street. Of the late hour. The man was…handsome. A shiver ran down Shane’s spine. He gestured awkwardly toward the cigarette. “I don’t think you’re meant to smoke here,” he said, voice hesitant despite knowing full well he was right. “Oh?” The reply was smooth, accented, foreign in a way that made Shane’s shoulders tense. “There’s a notice,” Shane added, pointing toward the sign affixed near the entrance. He nodded once, lips pressed thin, and quickly walked off without waiting for a response. The following night arrived without ceremony. Shane found himself once again leaving the library late, satchel heavier this time with completed work. The path ahead was lit by tall streetlamps, their bulbs flickering softly as he walked beneath them. The cold crept through his coat, sharp and persistent. But it wasn’t the cold that made him uneasy. It was the feeling. That unmistakable prickle along his spine, the sense of being watched. Of footsteps that weren’t quite there. He told himself it was foolish, just nerves and imagination, but he didn’t turn around. Then a voice spoke from behind him. “Are you going to ignore me forever?" The words were smooth, carrying a thick Russian drawl that slid down his spine like ice. The sound of it echoed faintly in the open street. Shane yelped, nearly jumping out of his skin as he spun around, bag slipping off his shoulder. “What the fuck—?!” he shouted.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,944
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76932081
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Ilya wakes up first. They bang about it. (Ilya pov)
- Part 2 of Shane and Ilya at the cottage
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,597
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76542781
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“Just for a while.” Shane breathed, his eyes unwavering and persistent. “I just - I just need a taste. I’ll be good, I promise.” He licked his lips and edged closer on his knees. “I’ve been waiting for you. Don’t I deserve a reward?” He’d never been one for propriety, but Ilya was quite sure that heat-drunk omegas who barged their way into homes and scandalized staff didn’t merit praise. But he’d never been one to deny Shane anything, so he relented anyway. -- Or: Shane goes into heat a month before the wedding and throws propriety out the window.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,029
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75869641
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