bloodlust, bloodslut by prettyshadow (theaujasmin) (Explicit, 8,026 words)
It’s not Shane’s fault, really. The being hard and begging Ilya for it in a dirty public bathroom thing.
If he had a nickel for every time it happened, he would now have two.
Or: Guard dog Ilya punches a Metro, Shane gets to live his dream of licking Ilya’s blood, and Ilya finally gets his dick stepped on as god intended.
Dog by a_good_soldier (Explicit, 3,424 words)
“Should call you the Ottawa Puppies,” says the Toronto centre, Svensson. As an insult it makes no sense, so Ilya ignores it, until he continues, “Hear Hollander keeps you on a short leash.”
Ilya is the captain, so if anything, he should be holding the leash. In English, you can be singular or plural, but he knows what Svensson is trying to say. He is saying Ilya Rozanov, you are Hollander’s bitch.
“Only sometimes,” Ilya replies, grinning. He wins the face off.
OR: Ilya trains himself to be a very, very good guard dog for Shane.
love and lust (wanna be yours) by blankjournals (Explicit, 11,933 words)
“You really wouldn’t mind if I had sex with someone else?”
Ilya does mind. Hearing it said back to him, almost makes him flinch, a sudden and brittle sound right next to his ear that he fails to recoil from in time. But he swallows back the bitter truth and replies, “Of course not. If that is what you want.”
He waits, sitting on his living room couch, phone pressed painfully against his ear, his other hand gripping his knees till his knuckles blanched. He could feel his own heart rattling behind his ribs, pulse rockingloudly. His mind was an echo of alarm, demanding of him: Why isn't Shane saying anything?
It was the loudest silence he’s ever lived through, until Shane finally said, “Okay.”
OR: inspired by the fight in TLG where Ilya tells Shane he can sleep with other men. But this time, Shane actually takes the offer.
Shane Hollander goes Casual (so cool and unbothered) by Self_cursed (Explicit, 26,658 words)
Shane Hollander is tired of wanting someone he cannot have, and he’s dying as he waits for someone who will not stay. Someone who doesn’t want to stay, not when there are so many others waiting for him. Fun of another variety, Shane left a treat amongst many.
It’s humiliating. It’s distracting. And it feels like shit.
He wishes he could erase his feelings, move on as easily. In an effort to gain back control over the ‘situation’ that has become his romantic attraction to a notorious player, Shane attempts at imitating Ilya Rozanov’s methods until he perfects them and becomes as good as keeping it light and casual as his rival.
Or Shane tries to Hoe Phase himself into a self discovery journey to choke and kill his feelings for Ilya Rozanov. Ilya is not the only who suffers from it, but he sure feels like he’s being choked and killed.
Tape to Tape by mcshrug (Explicit, 8,228 words)
Shane Hollander has chemistry with his new American linemate. Montreal fans are thrilled. Ilya Rozanov is not.
ten out of ten by gurlsrool (Mature, 10,798 words)
Ilya: He should buy lottery tickets because he is the luckiest man on earth Ilya: He should get on his knees and thank god everyday that he got to fuck youShane: Oh my God stopIlya: What? I do that
Or: The man who topped Shane in Mexico posts about his experience, Ilya contemplates murder, and the other queer NHL players get caught in the crossfire.
tongues a-wagging by (Teen And Up Audiences, 29,008 words)
Barstool Sports Canada reports that Montreal Metros captain Shane Hollander has started learning Russian from new teammate and Russian rookie Sergei Dovonchezky.
Ilya has some thoughts. None of them are particularly kind.
truth covered in security by lisa6 (Explicit, 3,599 words)
“Rozanov,” Hollander says again, meaner. Ilya’s heart flutters.
“Hi,” he purrs. Nastya lets out a sweet sound when he pulls back a little and Ilya kisses the shell of her ear, wondering if she’s too dazed from their fucking to question him making a phone call or if she just doesn’t care enough to ask. “You picked up fast. Missed me?”
Or: Ilya is jealous and deals with it in a totally normal way — by calling Shane while he's having sex with someone else.
Usually, Ilya doesn't let it get to him... usually. No AI 🚫 Photoshop timelapses posted to my account. More "fake hollanov insta posts" here: anotherhraccount
☀️ Ilya adored his husband. He adored everything about his man, from the way he awkwardly fumbled his thumbs in his pockets to the way he left his socks on. There wasn’t a single thing Shane could do that would ever make Ilya hate him, even as he gripped his hand while vomiting into the toilet.
☀️ prequel to ‘shchi’ (sick ilya) but can be read as standalone
☀️sick shane. protective & soft ilya. established relationship. anya. and MORE
☀️ https://archiveofourown.org/works/81541911
☀️ 3,120 words
Ilya adored his husband. He adored everything about his man, from the way he awkwardly fumbled his thumbs in his pockets to the way he left his socks on. There wasn’t a single thing Shane could do that would ever make Ilya hate him, even as he gripped onto his hand as he vomited into the toilet.
It actually made Ilya love him more, that during his distressing times, Shane relied on him. On Ilya. An action he thought he would never be worthy of, let alone when it came to Shane Hollander.
But now here they were, a residence in Ottawa on top of the cottage they retired to during the summer with a dog to keep them busy. It was the current home where Shane was emptying his breakfast into their toilet, tears streaming down his face.
Normally, he found his man crying to be attractive. But they weren’t in the throes of passion, and Shane wasn’t crying from pleasure as he was fucked open with Ilya’s cock.
No, instead his poor husband was distraught by the level of severity the sickness took this morning.
“Is okay, moyo solnyshko. Let it all out.” He comforted the best he could, rubbing his free hand up and down Shane’s back. Anything to help him calm down.
Shane hated throwing up—mostly because it made him feel dirty on the inside, and the chunks of food that came up always felt wrong. He hated it even more that he was puking in the toilet, where they literally sat down to shit. Yes, it was clean. No doubt about that thanks to his bi-weekly house cleaning regime, but it still didn’t take away from the fact that he was sticking his face in a bowl of germs.
“It’s not okay,” Shane complained, spitting the last bit out. His stomach still felt queasy, but not enough to hover in the bathroom.
Ilya remained by his side as he spat out his rinsed mouth in the sink, going through his entire teeth care routine. He couldn’t blame him.
“Medicine?” Ilya raised his eyebrow at Shane in the mirror, knowing the answer.
“No.” Shane practically whimpered out in return, stubbornness drawn between his eyebrows.
The Russian gave him that look. “Shane. Lyubov’.”
He shook his head but immediately stopped when it brought on another bout of nausea.
“I’m okay.” Shane weakly defended, but the track of his tears still moved Ilya into action.
“I know you don’t like medicine and like to do your all natural—stuff, but not today.” Ilya gently guided Shane into the bedroom. "Today I take care of you."
His husband huffed. They had this conversation plenty of times. Shane had done his research on how much medicine could fuck up the organs and systems that were vital to keep playing hockey. He wasn’t crazy about it, but he tried to use it as a last resort.
Ilya knew that, but Shane hadn’t stopped throwing up since yesterday, unable to hold a single meal down. Their designated puking bucket was currently being bleached, hence the use of the toilet.
The way Shane curled up in the bed under the covers, staring at Ilya with the melting look in his eye, was enough to alert him that Shane wouldn't be feeling better any time soon.
“My poor hubby.” Ilya cooed, running a hand through Shane’s short hair.
Shane sighed at the touch, blinking his eyes closed. “Don’t call me that, it’s gross.” He still had enough energy to cringe. “Can you close the blinds?”
Ilya kissed his cheek, doing as he was told and finding the electric remote that would block off the light from the room.
“Th’nk you.”
“You’re welcome, stol. I’m getting you medicine. Doctor said it will help get you better.” The curly-haired man assured.
“Table? Really?”
“You feel good enough to know when I tease.” Ilya felt good about that.
A few minutes later, after Shane tentatively swallowed the pills and water, afraid he would puke again, he was settled into the bed.
Ilya was nearly settled behind him, prepared to wrap the other man in his perfected big spoon position—when scratching was heard at their door.
Shane blinked at Ilya.
Anya barked making her presence more known, then kept barking.
“She’s mad I didn’t take her for a run this morning. Or yesterday.” Shane announced somberly, a pout forming on his lips.
Ilya was tempted to kiss him, so he did. A quick peck, then two more. He peppered kisses across his entire face, locking a hand on Shane’s jaw to hold him in place. Shane didn’t try to move, his eyes fluttering close with each kiss.
Anya let out a long cry and his eyes were open once more.
“Take her on a run.” His husband’s tone didn’t leave any room for an option.
“Shane—“
“Ilyusha. Baby.”
It was a battle already lost.
"Papochka uzhe idot, Anya. Perestan' plakat' — ty zastavlyayesh' papu Sheyna volnovat'sya." Daddy is coming, Anya. Stop all the crying, you make Daddy Shane worried.
Shane snorted, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself now that Ilya's weight was no longer balancing him.
Before Ilya left he grabbed Shane's weighted blanket from the linen closet, draping it over his man as Anya paced impatiently by the front door.
Ilya gave Shane one last peck. "For when I'm gone."
"You're gonna get sick." He grumbled back.
Anya fell asleep the second they got home, rushing a few sips of water before promptly diving into her dog bed in the living room. She was snoozing within minutes.
Ilya was similar to his shower in the way she drank her water—quick and hurried as if his life depended on it. It did, in some ways.
He needed to wrap his arms around Shane.
As soon as he was dry, hair and all, with the blow dryer because Shane hated when they were cozy in bed and cold water dripped on them, only then was he able to saddle up behind Shane.
Shane stirred awake at his presence, pressing his back against Ilya's chest.
"How do you feel?" Ilya asked in the crest of his shoulder and neck, snuggling in close. He kicked the weighted blanket down to their legs, knowing that Shane didn't like too much pressure on his chest.
Shane garbled out an unintelligible answer.
"So… not good?"
That earned him a hum.
A few days went by. Despite his age and how healthy he was, the Doctor was right in her warning that the flu could still do a number on Shane.
Ilya was witnessing as it wracked through his body, his immune system and the medicine working their best to fight off the bad bacteria.
He mostly bundled himself up in the bed, sleeping for the majority of the day and steaming himself out in the shower when he was up. The nausea pills he was prescribed also helped keep the vomiting away and allowed him to eat some food. Other than that, his constant headaches kept Shane off all his devices, whether that was to watch TV or talk to his parents.
"I said no, Ilya. I just wanna nap." Shane sassed when Ilya suggested he should talk to his parents, who were currently on the phone.
He took the response in stride, lightheartedly flicking at one of Shane's feet. The other man grumbled as he kicked back in retaliation, burying his face in the pillow.
"They are worried about you." Ilya repeated. "Talk to them."
Shane lifted his hand up, the manner completely bratty. He found it endearing, even if it was a little rude. Ilya handed him the phone, observing as his husband made tight conversation with his parents. He handed the phone back shortly after, shooting Ilya a glare that could burn holes through concrete.
Ilya's lips rounded into an 'O' shape, aghast at how bratty Shane was being outside of their sex banter.
He kissed him as he usually did before he left the room, turning the light off and shutting the door behind him quietly.
"Wow." He said into the phone, where Yuna was already laughing.
"He's always been grumpy when he's sick." She said in explanation around her dying out giggles. "We gave him a pass for it every time. Shane was the sweetest angel when he wasn't congested or vomiting, and it was never easy to get mad at him."
Ilya agreed. "He looks like a mad, wet kitten. Is very cute." He balanced the phone against his ear with his shoulder, starting to prep a lonely dinner for himself.
"He sounds like he's getting better. I'm sure he appreciates how good you're taking care of him, even if he's being a priss about it. How're you holding up, honey?" Yuna was ever attentive.
"'M good." And it wasn't a lie. "Little lonely."
"Do you want us to come over for dinner? I'm sure we won't get the flu as long as we stay away from Shane." David suggested.
Ilya and Yuna tutted at the same time.
"Let's not risk it." Yuna said to David on the line.
"Shane will be back to normal soon. I'll be able to watch boring documentaries and eat high protein dinners in no time. I'll call you tomorrow, yes?"
Yuna and David said their partings, wishing them well and sending them their love.
Ilya prepared a quick meal, getting Anya's together as well so they could eat at the same time. Whatever show the TV had playing filled up the silent space, the action a familiar tune to their normal life. Except Shane wasn't complaining how they were running the electricity when neither of them was paying attention, and he wasn't there circling his arms around Ilya's midsection while he cooked.
He hurried to eat his meal, took Anya out for a short walk, showered, and returned to bed where Shane was.
He cuddled up beside him, maneuvering Shane's arm so that it rested on his chest.
"Mm. Hi." Shane sleepily greeted, hooking his hand on Ilya's side.
"Hi." Ilya was smiling from ear to ear.
Shane kissed his cheek and Ilya felt his heart explode.
"Love you," Shane kissed his shoulder this time.
Ilya hooked his fingers on his chin to give him a real kiss, one where their tongues greeted each other and saliva was shared between them.
"You will definitely be sick." Shane sounded so sure of himself.
"You said this already. Not possible. Russians do not get sick."
"That's just plain dumb." Was Shane's only rebuttal.
And yeah, it was. But Ilya would keep saying it as long as it allowed him to kiss Shane while he was like this.
He liked to lie there with Shane, soaking up the comfort. Sometimes Ilya wasn't allowed to be suctioned to Shane like a needy octopus, the Canadian having spouts of hot flashes here and there. He would kick off the sheets and yank his clothes off, lying in the bed like a starfish.
His husband mostly took refuge in their room, finding comfort bin eing surrounded so closely by all of their belongings. Even so, he had to leave the bed at some point. One, because Ilya had to clean the sheets. And two, because Shane couldn't remain a sack of potatoes.
He did a lap in the house, just to keep his body moving instead of lying limp in a catatonic state forever. It felt good to stretch his limbs, but after the third lap, he plopped himself on the couch next to Anya. Ilya was waiting for the sheets to finish washing, joining their dogs other side as their hands met in the middle of her furr.
"Feeling better?" Ilya asked, mindlessly playing with Shane's fingers now.
Shane nodded, the movement no longer nauseating without the medication. He was even keeping down soups, a fact he relished in when he was slowly sipping at the flavorful broth.
"A lot." He admitted, resting his head on Ilya's shoulder.
Ilya placed his head on top.
He let out a sigh of relief.
"Khorosho, lyubov' moya. I won't lie, I was worried." Good, my love.
Shane felt a pang of guilt squeeze his heart. His parents always looked back on when he was sick as a rise of sudden sparring attitude that was entertaining to encounter. Shane was only embarrassed by it.
"I'm sorry. I know I've been difficult." He apologized, hating how thirsty he suddenly was.
He broke their cuddle position and grabbed the water Ilya had gotten him, chugging it until it was nearly gone. He left only a sliver in the bottom, a habit he did unconsciously, and one Ilya loved to tease him for.
"You leave the tiniest bit." Ilya mentioned without fail, pulling Shane back into his hold. "And you are not difficult. You are farthest from difficult, moy muzhik." He was squeezing Shane's thigh at that moment, trying to make a point.
Shane conceded.
"Da? Ty ved' ne solzhosh' mne?" Yes? You wouldn't lie to me? Shane's accent was a little choppy, especially when he broke his streak of practicing every day.
Ilya's reply was instant and leaving no room for doubts. "Nikogda v zhizni. Ty eto znayesh'." Never in my life. You know this.
"Ya delayu." I know. Shane liked to ask anyway. He wanted to hear the reassurance. "Ya tebya lyublyu." I love you.
"Ya tebya lyublyu." He returned.
Ilya's smile was blinding, just as it always was when he showed off all of his teeth. His eyes were sparkling, the hazel beautifully alight and looking between Shane's mouth and eyes.
He couldn't help himself, not with the way Shane's lips were unconsciously puckering out—their natural plumpness growing in size and enticing Ilya even more. His husband's stars (that he now knows are freckles) dotted across his cheeks and nose, each one looking edible.
Ilya couldn't stop himself from leaning forward and biting his cheeks, the movements soft and not meant to puncture the skin.
Shane snorted as he unseriously hit at Ilya's chest, hooking his arm around the other man's neck to bring him closer.
Anya scurried out of the way, barking at them in admonishment.
"Sorry, shchenok." Ilya said as she settled on her dog bed, choosing at that moment to aggressively chew on one of her squeaky toys.
Shane kissed his cheeks, then his nose. "She's tired of us."
Ilya was very much in love, which wasn't news to anyone.
By the fifth day, the fever was gone—just some congestion left over that had Shane sounding like a mutated monster every time he coughed.
Ilya kept his man fueled with solid food that he was now eating, along with plenty of water, because if hockey taught him one thing, it was how much hydration helped.
Shane was currently eating lunch at the table, Anya loyally sitting at his feet as she focused on his food, likely praying in dog language that Papa Sheyn would drop a few crumbs. Unluckily for her, only Ilya did that when Shane wasn't looking.
"Go, Anechka." Ilya grabbed a toy and threw it, hoping Shane didn't put two and two together.
But his luck was not so great. "Do you give her your food?" Shane immediately bombarded him with the question when he turned around.
"Whaaaat? No!"
"Ilya! It upsets her stomach."
"Yes, but she still eats it anyway. Like when I get the McGriddle." He rubbed his stomach in memory. "Bad digestion. Good ingestion!"
Ilya wrapped his arms around Shane, leading kisses from his shoulder to his neck. "I'm glad you're feeling better." He nuzzled into the curve, laying his palms flat against Shane's skin. His skin wasn't heated or flushed anymore, true signs that he was getting better.
Shane placed his fork down and gripped his arm, leaning back into the hold. He caressed Ilya's arm soothingly up and down, almost tickling the man in doing so. But the Russian didn't dare move, even if that meant by laughing, to disturb the moment.
He loved any touch Shane would give him. That made his husband sound like some neglectful man who only sparingly offered Ilya his touch, which wasn't true at all. Shane was always touching him—the healthy amount for a touchy couple, at least. Or maybe a little bit over that. And vice versa.
But it never got old. Nothing Shane ever did got old; the domestic structure they built around themselves reminded them that the small moments were what made them whole.
"I'm going to warn you for the last time, Ilyusha. Don't be surprised if you get the flu in a few days." Shane teased.
Ilya groaned into his neck, enjoying the way Shane shivered at the slight of his touch. His hands fell to his hips, gripping them and lightly nipping at Shane's shoulder.
"Will you nurse me back to health, surok?"
"Groundhog? Seriously?" Shane enjoyed hunting down every one of his random tests of Russian, their competitiveness never dying for a moment.
"Yes or no?" Ilya pressed. "Please, Nurse Shane? You can't leave your husband after he dotes on you so much…" He exaggerated his pout, making sure Shane didn't look away from him.
He loved his husband's attention.
The other man rolled his eyes then nodded his head. "Duh, baby. I wouldn't want to do anything else than take care of you."
"Awe! So sweet. I must let the world know Shane Hollander is the best husband ever. Not a boring duck. What if I vomit everywhere?" He thought of the worst-case scenario.
"First of all, Rozanov. Shane Hollander-Rozanov." The Canadian corrected. "Second of all, no one thinks I'm a boring duck—"
Ilya cut him off. "Mm, not true." He flattened his lips and shrugged.
"No one besides you—"
"Still not true."
"Third of all," Shane raised his hand so Ilya wouldn't interrupt him again. "I would clean you up, then the mess, then myself. There's levels to this shit."
Ilya nodded, "Of course, of course. Nothing less from Shane Hollander-Rozanov."
"Mhm." Shane nodded, then patted the seat next to him. "Make yourself a plate, Ilyusha. I've missed eating with you."
And oh, how much Ilya agreed with that. He hurried to get his plate, following the command as if it were one to begin with. He sat next to his husband, their knees touching as Ilya ate the contents on his plate at a rapid pace.
Shane still kept his pace slow, watching his husband from the corner of his eye.
"Eat up while you can." He encouraged. "Food will be your worst enemy the first few days."
"I won't get sick."
He was wrong. Really wrong.
A/N: link to sequel, ‘shchi’ where ilya is sick: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75675931
tags: Alpha Ilya Rozanov/Omega Shane Hollander, A/B/O dynamics, scenting, fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, hockey injury, hidden relationship
summary:
When Shane goes down on the ice in a game against Boston, no one thinks any differently when his rival, Ilya Rozanov, stands still on the ice while he is carried off. Obviously, someone should have. Separated from his hurt omega and with no one to turn to, Ilya does the one thing he's never done before: beg.
-----------------------------
Or, No one knows that with the exception of a mating scar on his neck, Shane is a mated omega. (To Ilya).
Read under the cut or here on a03.
It had all happened so fast. One moment, Shane was racing down the ice with the puck, effortlessly getting past Boston’s defense line, and in another—he was knocked out on the ice.
The Metros all hopped over the bench racing towards Shane, refs pushing away stray Raiders players who all stopped in their tracks after the omega had hit the floor. The impact was loud. Marleau was shaking, torn between his loyalty to his team and his instincts, but the refs called it a clean hit, and it was. Hollander just didn’t see him coming.
The medics slid in, moving Shane onto a spine board and lifting him onto the stretcher, carrying him off the ice. He looked so small and defeated with the neck brace on, hands twitching, eye brows furrowed.
Ilya couldn’t hold himself together. Not like he should be. On the ice, Hollander was just another player, an obstacle to the Stanley Cup. But off the ice? Hollander was everything to him. But his omega had thought of everything, like usual, and made him promise that if something like this were to happen, he was to act normal and keep their cover. Ilya had agreed because Shane had asked him too and Ilya was weak for him, but now he was kicking himself. His omega was hurt badly, and he couldn't even hold his hand.
The game was cancelled. All the alphas were unsettled and it was deemed too dangerous to continue such a brutal sport. Both teams were herded back into the dressing rooms, the air tight and uncomfortable.
But most of all, Rozanov was making it worse. The captain bullied himself into the room, door hitting the wall so hard it made the team jump. “ебать!” He yelled, throwing his helmet loosely towards the direction of his cubby. “Что мне, блять, делать?”
Everyone gave their Alpha captain some space. He was loud and brash on a good day, but this was new territory. His scent was seeping out from underneath his scent patch, making all the alphas on edge, instincts clashing at submitting to their recognized alpha or fighting for dominance.
“Cap,” Marleau whispered, hands up in a placating gesture. “You’re stressing everyone out, buddy. Deep breaths, okay? I’m sure he will be just fine.”
Ilya just bristled, his hackles rising, “Shut the fuck up.” He growled out, eyes threatening to take over to alpha red. He needed to get out of this stupid locker room and figure out where they were taking his omega. But it wasn’t that easy, was it?
Eventually, his team poured out of the locker room, bidding their captain farewell as he sat still in his gear. Only when he was alone did he change, hands shaking so bad he almost forewent his socks and shoes. He heard the other team in the hallway, and one voice stuck out to him the most. Hayden Pike.
The alpha shot out of the locker room, catching Pike as walked towards the parking garage. “Pike,” Ilya growled, hand reaching out to grab him on the shoulder, anything to not let the other alpha see him shake.
Hayden spun around, eyes wide, shrugging his hand off his shoulder. “Not now, Rozanov. Alright?” He said, eyes sharp. Ilya actually took a step back, holding his hands up. He shook his head, casting his eyes down.
“No no, I’m not here to—uh, Christ! English is hard,” He said, his hands fumbling around to make his answer appear. “I just wanted to know, if you know anything. About Sh–Hollander.” He grimaced at his slip-up, Shane would have killed him. “About Hollander.” He repeated, finally looking up at Pike.
Pike looked at him for a second. “What do you care? It was your friend that hit him.”
Ilya had to control his breathing. Being reminded that one of his closest friends and teammates brutally knocked out his omega was not helping him at the moment. He shook his head and tried to hold back a whine. “I know, alright?” He snapped, “Trust me, I deal with him already.”
Rozanov looked like he was going to start talking again but Pike cut him off. “Look,” He said, running a hand through his hair, “I’ve got to go see my friend at the hospital. I can’t deal with your rivalry shit right now. They are having a hard enough time with him right now as is and I need to go help.” Pike turned away to walk back to his car, but Ilya was faster.
“Woah, woah, Pike, stop.” He said, getting in front of the alpha and putting a hand out, mere inches from his chest. “What do you mean, having hard time with him? What’s wrong?”
“It’s none of your business, Rozanov.” Hayden seethed out, eyes gaining a red hue.
Ilya nodded, putting his hand down. He had to be strong for Shane, he had to respect what his omega wanted and him coming out to Hayden was not something he wanted. Even if that meant letting Pike go help his omega instead of him. He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his game bag and shakily wrote his phone number on it and handed it to Pike.
“Call or text me about his, uh, condition? Yes?” Ilya asked softly, making the other alpha do a double take.
“Sure, Rozanov. I’ve really got to go.” Whatever Hayden was feeling about Rozanov, he had to admit it was sweet of him to be so worried about Shane. He figured, in some odd way that he hated, Rozanov had known Shane longer than he did. He shook the thought out of his head and made his way to the hospital.
+++
“Mr. Hollander’s family?” A young nurse announced, walking into the visitors seating area.
Yuna, David, Hayden and Jackie all shot up out of their seats. “Yes, that’s us.” Yuna said, hands twisting over each other. David rested a soft hand on her shoulder.
The nurse looked over them with an odd look. She clicked her tongue, looking over the file in front of her before looking back up again. “What are your names?”
All four of them shared a glance before looking back at the nurse. “I’m Yuna, Shane’s mother, and this is his father, David.” She paused, raising an eyebrow. “This is Hayden, Shane’s teammate and his wife, Jackie.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Something wrong?”
The nurse began to look uncomfortable, which only made everyone else worry. “Is, uh, Shane’s Alpha here?”
Yuna let out a breath. “I’m his mother, the family alpha.”
She nodded, lips pursed. “Do you know when his alpha will be here?”
“He doesn’t have one,” David spoke, looking between his wife and the nurse.
“According to his adverse reactions to our medications and his behaviors, all signs indicate to him having a strong bond with an alpha.” She said, “He has become extremely agitated and will go into distress if we can’t get his levels down.”
All four of them remained silent, shocked. The nurse continued, “If there is anyone he was close to at all, please give them a call. Or, if any alpha’s have recently gotten antsy after hearing about him getting hurt.” She turned and walked back into the hospital hallway, leaving them standing there, stunned.
“Hayden?” David asked, turning towards him. “Shane was always quiet about all that stuff with us. Did he mention anyone to you?”
Hayden let out a breath and took a seat, a hand coming to rub over his face. “Uh, no, no. He never liked to talk about that stuff. Didn’t wanna be treated differently.” Hayden stopped, hand shooting to his phone. “Let me, uh, text some guys on the team, they might know.”
Walking through the hospital, Hayden couldn’t believe what he was thinking. There was no way, right? When the nurse mentioned any alpha’s getting antsy, at first he didn’t think of anyone. No one on the team acted any differently when Shane got hurt compared to any times anyone else did. Shane hated Ilya, right?
The brisk air greeted him outside the hospital, his breath catching. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do. Cursing softly, he pulled out Rozanov’s number and dialed it. It was answered on the first ring.
“Pike?” Rozanov questioned, “Is you, yes?”
“Mhmm, it’s me. Yeah. Shane’s got a bad concussion and a fractured collarbone.” Hayden murmured, taking a deep breath — he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “Listen, you’ve got to be honest with me right now.”
“Okay.”
“Are you and Shane…” He stopped, shaking his head. “Are you his Alpha?”
There was silence over the phone, but Hayden could hear him breathing heavily.
He continued. “I’m not trying to, you know. Whatever. What I feel doesn’t matter right now. Answer me, Rozanov.”
“Yes. I am, alright? I don’t want to hear it, Pike. Please. He didn’t want anyone to know. Just tell me what’s going on with him, okay? I can’t stand—”
“Get here, now. He needs you.”
Rozanov just whined and Hayden almost felt bad. “I–I can’t, I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone. And his parents—God, his parents. They hate me, Pike. They won’t want me there.”
“Shit. I’ll handle his parents, okay? Don’t worry about it, promise. Shane is going into distress soon if they can’t calm him down. His mom can’t help him anymore, it has to be you.”
“Distress? Fuck. I’m coming right now.”
Hayden walked back up to the visitor room, finding that everyone had moved into Shane’s room. Yuna and David immediately looked at him and he shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking softly on the balls of his feet.
“Listen, I, uh. Called someone. They are coming right now for Shane.” God, he was regretting his promise to Rozanov. This was awkward as hell.
“Well, who is it? Do we know them?” Yuna asked.
Hayden couldn’t help a chuckle and Jackie whacked him on the arm. “Uh, yeah, yeah. You know them. It’s Ilya.” He paused when they didn’t recognize the name. “Rozanov.”
Yuna and David were about to shout, when Shane let out a terrible whine. They all gathered around his bed, Yuna just itching to grab his hand. She knew better though, Shane was bonded to an alpha now.
“Ilya,” He whined, eyes finally opening to show bright omega gold.
At that display, Yuna and David quieted down their remarks. Now was not the time to challenge their son’s chosen mate. “He’s on his way here, honey. Your alpha will be here soon.” She said softly, a tear rolling down her cheek. Her baby had found a mate.
As if he heard Shane whine, Ilya burst into the hospital room. He was frantic, only physically settling when his eyes found Shane. He simply itched to touch him, but he had to get approval from Shane’s parents first. “Uh, Hi. Hello.”
As the family alpha, Yuna stepped forward. “Hi, um, I’m Yuna. Shane’s mother.”
Ilya smiled and reached out a hand for her to shake. “Yes, Ms. Hollander, Shane has told me about you. All good things.”
She smiled as well as she could right now. “Call me Yuna, please.” She shook his hand, pulling it towards her to hold it. “I know this is terrible timing, and we still have a lot to talk about, trust me. But if Shane has chosen you, we choose you.”
David smiled as well, reaching out to shake the younger alpha’s hand. “Looking forward to getting to know you, Ilya.”
Hayden decided to end this already awkward moment. Shane was getting worse by the second. “Come on, let’s leave them be. Shane needs him more than we do right now.”
As soon as the door shut, Ilya rushed towards his omega. “Shane, моя любовь” He cried, “I’m right here, Omega.”
“Alpha,” Shane whined, “Hurts.”
Ilya ran a hand through his soft dark hair, holding his head softly as he rubbed a thumb across his cheekbone, smiling at the array of freckles. “I know, baby, I know. I’m so sorry you’re hurting. Let me help, yes? Alpha is here.”
Shane just nodded, leaning more into his alpha hand. He was so warm and smelled so good, a perfect combination of Ilya’s naturally musky scent and brief notes from the cottage. God, he missed their bed. He didn’t realize he was whining until he heard Ilya shush him, one of his huge hands coming around to grasp the nape of his neck. The alpha didn't squeeze, he knew better than to scruff Shane without his consent, but the domesticity of the hold was nice. “Settle down, my love. I am here, yes?”
Shane kept his eyes closed, shaking his head. His breath stuttered. Ilya raised a brow, using the hand not on his omega’s neck to tap his cheek. “Do you, uh, need?” He asked softly, fingers moving softly along the smooth back of Shane’s neck, some twirling his hair. Ilya knew Shane usually hated being scruffed, the forced submission never sat right with him, no matter how relaxed he felt afterwards. Ilya only offered it because Shane was still riding the line of distress, and sometimes there was nothing that would take him back except this.
“I’m sorry,” Shane whispered, turning away from his alpha as much as the hold would allow.
Ilya clicked his tongue, immediately grasping Shane’s chin and tilting it back to him. “No sorries, моя любовь. I give whatever you need, yes? Is just us here.”
Shane nodded his head. “Yes, I think I need it. I got so scared, I didn’t think they would let you in here with me.”
Ilya laughed, “Yes, well, thank Hayden for that.”
Shane hummed, eyes falling closed for a minute. “Can you lay with me?” He muttered, hand fisting Ilya jacket. “I want you near, please?”
The alpha shot a look back at the door, relieved to see none of the Hollander’s standing out in the hallway. He nodded, shrugging off his jacket and pulling it over his omega, who was slowly scooching over to the other side of the bed. Eventually, Shane was tucked into Ilya’s side, it was a little weird given Shane had to cuddle up on his other side given the arm sling, but they made it work. Ilya directed Shane’s head to the crook of his neck, another hand coming up to grasp his nape. “Still want?”
The omega simply nodded, nuzzling further into Ilya’s scent gland. Usually, the alpha made him verbalize his request for this, but his omega was tired and close to distress. He nodded, kissing Shane’s forehead. His fingers tightened, squeezing one of the most vulnerable parts of his omega. Shane couldn’t help but stiffen, but his alpha ran a hand down his back, shushing him quietly.
“Is just me, omega. I’ve got you. Settle and come back to me.”
Shane relaxed in the hold, sinking further into Ilya’s side. The alpha mumbled praises on deaf ears, knowing that Shane was deep in his headspace and couldn’t understand him, the deep sound of his voice always brought his omega peace. Shane started to let out a soft purr which encouraged Ilya’s own rumble to start.
Almost an hour later, a soft knock on the door brought both of them back to reality. The nurse from earlier stepped in, smiling softly at the pair.
“I hate to break up the nice moment, but I’m afraid I’ve got something I need to discuss with you.” She shut the door softly behind her, cautious to Shane rubbing away the sleep from his eyes. “I figured it would be better to tell the both of you first.”
At that, Ilya went rigid. Her tone meant something was wrong, right? There was no other reason as to why she was acting like this. He breathed in Shane’s scent again, his brilliant alpha nose trying to detect a trace of anything, something wrong that didn’t belong. He almost whined, but the nurse spoke again, noticing his distress.
“There is nothing physically wrong with you, Shane,” She started, “Just, um. You’re going to have to have a heat soon.”
Now, Shane was the one who went rigid. “What? Why? It’s the middle of the season, I know I’m benched with my shoulder and head, but I just had my heat a few months ago. I’m not due for a while.”
Shane, unlike most Omegas, hated his heat. He just felt so wrong inside his body, not being able to control his mind and remember what he says never sat well. It stressed him out to lose control like that. He hated all the sensations and cramps that came with his heat, and for some reason, he experienced a lot more pain than the typical amount. Sometimes his body craved his alpha’s touch but he couldn’t have it, feeling like his skin was a live wire and he would die if something even came close. It was torture.
The nurse sighed. “Unfortunately, your body is going to start to reject most of the medicines we gave you when you first came in due to your bond with your Alpha. Once we received your bloodwork, we stopped all those medications, but it was too late. Despite not having a mating mark, your body believes you are mated, and it will expel the medicines that go against that.”
Shane just sunk further into the shitty hospital bed. He knew this was a possibility, in the very back corner of his mind, but he pushed it away. Acknowledging this required him to tell someone, someone close to him, that if something bad happened and he needed to go to the hospital, to let them know he has an Alpha. But he didn’t want anyone to know, not even his Alpha parent or his best friend.
He just swallowed his hurt and looked back up at the nurse, actively avoiding the look Ilya was giving him. “How long do you think I have before it hits?”
“Guessing how badly you reacted to the medicine and bordered on distress, I’d say you have maybe 3 or 4 days before you will start to feel it. Maybe a week until it hits you fully.”
Shane just nodded and the nurse saw herself out. It was the sound of the door shutting that broke Ilya out his trance.
“A heat? So soon after your last one, моя любовь. I am sorry.” The Alpha ran a hand through his omega’s dark hair, knowing all too well how painful his omega’s heats could be. “I take time off, be with you.” He concluded.
Shane jerked as much as he could in his sling. “What?” He shrieked, “Ilya, you are in the middle of the playoffs. You can’t just leave your team for almost two weeks to be with me. You’re the captain!”
Ilya just shook his head. “No, no. That doesn’t matter now, okay? You are mine, Shane. You are hurt and I, cannot just, ебать!” He cursed, shaking his head. “I have to look after you, care for you. Please. I don’t know in English, sorry. It’s hard.” Ilya cursed some more under his breath, hating that he couldn’t find the right words. “Talk later, yes? Have time.”
Shane could see it in Ilya’s eyes that he was near tears and figured that this conversation could stand to wait a bit. Ilya, despite what he says to the public, is actually very good in his English now, and Shane knew that him hiding behind his lack of understanding meant that it was all just too much for him right now. If anything, Shane definitely understood what feeling too much could do to someone.
Shane crooned, a unique omega sound reserved for mates and children, pulling Ilya back to him and shuffling so his alpha had no choice but to stick his head in the crook of Shane’s neck. Surrounded by his omega’s scent, Ilya very quickly found sleep.
However, Shane did not. He was planning, as always. First, he needed to figure out how to tell his parents about Ilya and the impending heat. Second, console Hayden about the fact that he and Ilya were now a package deal. And third, and most importantly, figure out how to keep Boston off their backs while Ilya was with him for half a month or so.
And some can't stand the dynasty that the Voyageurs inadvertently created when they ran Shane Hollander out of town for being gay.
So when news of why Shane Hollander signed in Ottawa alongside his husband comes out, 31 teams take it upon themselves to get back at the Voyageurs for all that they’ve done.
Part II of Be Gay, Get Even
One-Shot | Multi POV | NHL vs. Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Fucks Up | The NHL Gets Even | Fuck the Voyageurs 😈
