Hi! You can call me Star; long time lurker but I have courage now, so welcome. Please feel free to send an ask, I always need motivation! I cant promise anything good but snzfic is a hobby, not my job.
Things in my writing- hurt/comfort, snz (duh), the gays, no mess/contagion, general sickness and whump, allergy stuff, caretaking
Fandoms I write for- BNHA, Honkai: Star Rail, Genshin, Arcane, Sk8 The Infinity, BSD, JJK, Haikyuu, Buddy Daddies, AoT, Heated Rivalry, RW&RB, and others as they come
Boyfriend snz obs (because I refuse to lose my mind alone)
A little bit of background information- my boyfriend and I have been at my grandparent's farm over the summer while I work on my dissertation (he gets this time off anyway since he's a teacher). That being said I grew up on farms with livestock and all that comes with that, boyfriend did NOT. Usually, this doesnt mean anything because he's a fast learner and generally pretty good with animals. But recently he's become more sensitive to the sawdust, or dander, or...something.
So obviously, I have been losing my everloving mind for the past month because my idiot (said affectionately) boyfriend will come help me with chores in the early morning just to be sniffly and itchy for the rest of the day. And mind you, he isn't quiet about it either, this man lives to complain! So he's laying in my lap at night just whining and rubbing his nose. How do you expect me not to jump him?? You want me to behave normally? No 😃
The worst part is, my grandparent's home is incredibly small, so boyfriend believes he can just pinch stifle when we're alone and it's fine. Which, for maybe anyone else, it would be fine! Except he sneezes like the sound barrier owes him money, so now he's in my lap, grumbling and having fits of like 10 sneezes or trying to muffle them into handkerchiefs. The amount of times Ive heard 'hold on, I'm gonna start sneezing again' this month is truly egregious.
Once again thinking about I/lya being taken care of by S/hane's parents. I need the slow burn of him trying to trust them enough to show 'vulnerability' while he's sick. I crave it on a biblical level.
Im so grateful for the love y'all have given my little equestrian guys, so here's more! I realized theres probably a need for some backstory context (especially with Benyemin and Ricardo) so that might be coming. Back to your regularly scheduled fanfic soon, but I wanna talk about my boys for a sec!
Cain Phillips~
-Doesn't have many allergies that make him sneeze, but he does get really awful hives from rabbits or guinea pigs
-World's most unstable stomach, everything can and will give him a stomachache. Anxious? Stomachache. Upset? Stomachache. Dairy? Stomachache
-King of home remedies. He grew up low-income and without a mother, yes he's tried them all
- Very rarely sick until the first week of off-time after show season, then he's consistently down for the count
-Uselessly congested but not very sneezy, drives him insane and he's so jealous that Ben can sneeze and get it out
-If he does sneeze, its usually after he's been blowing his nose so long that something finally shifts
-Little to no build-up, just straight into two (always doubles)
-Very chesty (yes, I stole his sneeze from those M/arleau headcanons) ha'KTXH'huu *pause of sinus pressure-filled misery* HKCK'ehhh
-Smoke makes him cough and gets his chest aching for a few hours if its excessive. Growing up, his father smoked a lot and he was always getting pneumonia or ear infections, it just carried into an adulthood sensitivity
-Clears his throat in the most obnoxiously loud way possible, but it does help
-Furthest thing from a chronic blesser. Will stare at you like you've offended his entire bloodline then walk away.
-When he's with Ben, he does bless him after a fit, but always stays silent until Ben announces he's done.
-Carries an entire first aid kit of allergy and cold meds in his show trunk
-First time he broke a bone was on national TV and he cursed so much the broadcast had to be cut off. Later revealed he only said so many of his usually forbidden vernacular because he was sobbing and didnt want that on TV
-Has since broken both femurs and everything has felt insignificant since then
-Was involved in an attempted kidnapping of his horse and ended up in the hospital for a month from the injuries (Ben still goes silent when its brought up) (Cain still has nightmares he refuses to admit to)
-Will push himself until he physically cant or his horse gets too warm under the girth (has led to him passing out from heat or exhaustion too many times)
-Almost chronically dehydrated, PLEASE REMEMBER TO DRINK WATER
Reuploading my last fic bcs I do, in fact, still have a concussion and that thing was noooot done yet. I very much apologize, thank you to everyone in my dms and those who were vaguely concerned.
ANYWAY
3+1 (three times those around S/hane realized his real rival was dust + one time he found out he wasn't the only one)
Hayden Pike
When you have four kids, a full time professional hockey career, and a wife in desperate need of a spa week, you get your shit together pretty quick. At least, that’s what Hayden’s mostly sure he’s supposed to be doing right now with Jackie in North Shore for the week. To his own credit, he thinks he’s doing a pretty solid job, thank you very much! For the first three days anyway, then Wednesday morning hits like a 300 pound defenseman. Jade woke up with a sore throat, Ruby has decided she wants anything they don’t currently have, Amber is colicky, and Arthur…well, he’s fine actually.
By late afternoon, Hayden is hunched over the kitchen island with his phone off to the side, his eyes closed, waging a silent war. His kids are all screaming, sans Arthur, and he’s about to make a very dire call, one he may never live down. Like a man pre-writing his own eulogy, he calls the only person he can think of to save him; Shane Hollander.
“Yeah no, for sure.” Well…he agreed to that much more easily than Hayden had expected. He’s stunned into silence for a moment, mouth hanging slightly open with half-formed words. On the other line, he can hear bedsheets rustling and a hushed conversation between Shane and someone else’s voice that makes Hayden want to kick himself. Shit, of course perfect golden-boy Shane Hollander is taking their day off to relax with his parents.
“I just need you for a couple of hours so I don’t drive myself to the hospital for an impromptu vasectomy or something.” Running a hand through his disheveled hair, he tries to keep the explanation short and avoid the nervous urge to ramble. There’s a beat of silence where Hayden almost manages to talk himself into hanging up and getting in his car anyway. It only lasts a second, thankfully, before he hears Shane chuckle and lets out his breath.
“I think maybe that’d be a good idea anyway, Hayd. I’m on my way, be there in 20.” Finally feeling like he can unlock his muscles from crouching over the countertop, Hayden groans in relief. Help is on the way, and his heart can slow to a semi-normal patter in his chest as he turns and strides back into the living room.
True to his word, Hayden hears Shane knock at his door exactly 20 minutes later, freakishly punctual in a way he’s never been more grateful for. With Amber wailing in his arms, Jade whining over a glass of orange juice on the couch, Ruby trying to rival them both with her cries of general disdain, Hayden nearly throws open the door. He has half a mind to shove Amber at Shane before he’s even managed to toe his shoes off so he can go back to bargaining with his other daughters. Except Hayden Pike is a very polite Canadian boy, perhaps even enough to rival Hollander himself, so he doesn’t.
“I’m really sorry to ruin your day with your parents like this, man. Just need a couple hours to-” he takes a deep exaggerated breath, letting it out slowly through his mouth, “you know?” It’s probably true, hopefully, that this only needs to be a few hours. If he’s lucky, Hayden can spin this into just a ‘day-off dinner with my friend’ and not the catastrophe it is.
“My parents?” Shane furrows his brow for a moment as he follows Hayden into the living room before instantly straightening up again. “Oh yeah, yeah no worries, Hayd. They’re uh… they don’t mind.” Flopping down on the couch, Shane gently removes Amber from Hayden’s arms and starts cooing to her.
This is fine, better than fine actually, Hayden feels like he can breathe again as he gets up to appease Ruby and Jade in the kitchen. It’s fine because when Arthur wakes up from his nap, Shane is already moving, when Amber screams, he knows the exact pattern she needs to be rocked in until she settles again. Hayden has never been more grateful for another person, except for his wife, of course. There’s finally enough space in his brain to coax Jade into drinking a glass of juice and compromise Ruby’s outrage over chicken nuggets with a coloring book.
“When’s the last time you cleaned your carpets?” Blinking out of the comfortable daze he’d fallen into while helping Ruby color a unicorn, Hayden glances over at Shane. He has one baby in either arm taking probably 80% of his attention as he wrinkles his nose with a sniff. What the fuck? He’s here helping Hayden babysit his kids and he has a problem with a stain on the carpet? Even given Shane’s frankly long record of blunt statements, this one kind of stings.
“Uh, I don’t know, dude. I think-” “HNGX’tiew!” Hayden blinks in surprise, his mouth still open and forming an answer his brain has stopped writing. He watches Shane scramble to set Amber and Arthur on the couch gently before ducking into the crook of his elbow. “Hh’IIESHhuh!” At least he set the babies down first before allowing himself to sneeze fully
“Bless you?” Watching Shane scramble to the bathroom has Hayden furrowing his brow in surprise. He’s seen the guy sneeze maybe twice in their entire timeline of knowing each other and it had been totally one-off random both times. Is Shane allergic to his mother-in-law’s rug or something? To be fair, the damn thing is ugly and the stains of grape juice only help to elevate the eye-sore of it all.
Running the possibility over in his head, Hayden gets up with a promise to be right back and creeps slowly to the bathroom. As he gets closer, he can hear Shane’s muffled attempt at blowing his nose and the few soft sneezes that get mixed in. Okay, so definitely not a one-off random thing, add it to the list of things Hayden doesn’t really know what to do with. He clears his throat before knocking lightly- Jesus, in his own damn home.
“You alright in there?” Obviously not, fuck, he really should’ve just gotten that vasectomy.
“Yup, fine. Ju-hih-h’ESCHhuh! Just -snf- hold on.” There’s another breathless attempt at blowing his nose before Shane finally opens the door. A sheepish blush is already spreading down his neck as he stares at Hayden’s socked feet.
“Bless you. So uh, you must really hate polyester carpets, huh?” Lame, god he’s so fucking lame. When he dies from something dumb like imploding from stress, his tombstone will probably say ‘lame and awful best friend’. Except, Shane actually laughs, a little snicker that’s muffled by the square of toilet paper he’s pressing to his septum.
“I think I’m… pretty neutral on them actually.” He pauses for a split second, turning to toss the toilet paper into the trash and quickly tearing off a new piece. “Just, sometimes they get- snf- dusty.” Great, so Hayden’s lame choice in flooring meant to repel staining is going to kill his best friend, real smooth. To be fair, he doesn’t actually look too miserable, maybe a little teary eyed, and definitely sniffly, but not going into anaphylactic shock. Can dust put you in anaphylactic shock? Shit, he should look that up.
“And you’re-” He doesn’t finish the thought, Shane waves a hand at him to stop before ducking into his elbow.
“Hh’TSCH’hhu! ‘Scuse me. Allergic, to dust. Just a little.” This doesn’t seem like ‘just a little’ if Hayden is being so deadly serious. Then again, Shane knows his own body so well and keeps himself in such inhuman shape, Hayden thought maybe he was just immune to shit like allergies.
“Bless you. Okay, well, I have claritin? Or, you totally don't have to stay, dude.” Because killing Hockey’s #1 prodigy over babysitting really isn’t the headline Hayden wants to be cuffed under.
“Claritin, if you don't mind.” With a nod so sharp it nearly gives him whiplash, Hayden retrieves the pills from the space on top of the fridge. He also makes a mental note to get the house deep cleaned if either of them survive that long. Amber has gone back to wailing in the living room and Hayden forces himself not to sigh when he hears Shane reemerge to soothe her.
“Jesus man, get out of the living room!” Hayden barks, pulling Amber from Shane’s arms after the first flurry of stifled sneezes.
Rose Landry
Having dated an A-list celebrity and being an A-list celebrity herself, Rose can count on one hand the times she’s been able to peacefully sneak through Vancouver. Right now is not one of those times. It probably has something to do with that A-list celebrity previously mentioned sitting beside her. God, she’s going to punch the next cameraman that barges in front of her limo driver. Someone should really tell these people that they’ll get nothing from a photo posted after Fritz runs them over.
Four days into a week-long shoot, Rose decided she absolutely would not be leaving the country without a ‘date’ with her ex. Shane is currently trying to merge with the car to avoid the flashing cameras lined up outside his window. So much for their most peaceful night, they’d almost made it out unscathed too, that’s the worst part. They’d paid a frankly obscene amount for mediocre seafood and pasta without fanfare, but now it seems they’ll never leave.
One paparazzi had turned into two, then four, then eight, when she’d finally decided to call it a night. Shane had paid the check, of course he did, he was a perfectly sweet ex-boyfriend on a date with his ex-girlfriend, and also Canadian. She’d thought that was enough time to escape the slowly building crowd of paparazzi; it was not. Now they’re sitting in her limousine in the middle of a sketchy alley behind a very nice plaza circled like carcasses for the vultures.
Both crouched down as low as they possibly could be, eyes down, jaws tight, they look more like they’re running from the cops than the paparazzi. Not that Shane would know, he’s never run from the cops, for sure, Rose…had a childhood with multiple brothers. Expectedly, when she looks over at him, he looks like he wishes he could slip into the crease of his seat and vanish. Even with the window tinted so dark it’s practically reflective, the cameras are lighting up the limo and casting his grim expression in shadows.
“I’m really sorry about all this.” That at least catches Shane’s attention, even if he still looks partially suicidal, the way he’s hunched down in his seat. He’s used to it, of course he is, he’s objectively more famous than Rose is, but usually he has a pack of stadium security between himself and the public.
“No, no, it’s fine. I mean, not fine, but at least they didn’t jump us at the table.” There’s really no one Rose would rather be stuck in a limo with than Shane, if only because now she doesn’t feel like she’s suffocating. Yeah, the situation is pretty sucky, but if she just doesn’t look out the window, she can pretend they’re still just sitting in the restaurant, chatting about stupid shit.
“Ugh can you imagine? Well, I don’t know, one of them might be cute.” Tilting her head back, Rose grins conspiratorially over at him.
“Rose!” Shane gasps, looking absolutely scandalized with his bug eyed glare. The act would’ve been pretty convincing too, if he wasn’t grinning wide enough for his cheeks to turn pink.
“Oh right, I bet you’ve got a hot date waiting for you.” Rose regrets saying it instantly when Shane’s smile falters and he glances away with a quick sniff. That’s…weird, usually Shane is all over her jokes about his mystery lover, he usually can’t shut up if she brings him up. Watching his face fall in real time shatters her heart all over again.
“Oh my gosh, did you break up with the mystery guy? I’m so sorry, babe, please don’t cry.” God, she’s gonna have to kill this mystery guy isn’t she? That sucks, he was really doing it for Shane. Rose unbuckles and reaches up to place her hands on Shane’s cheeks. Fuck, if she’s going to make this man cry every time they go out then her brothers are going to murder her. ‘You put the God of hockey in a depressive episode!’ ‘Is it not enough to break his heart, you gotta rub it in too?’ ‘He’s going to fucking kill Michigan for this, Rosey!’ She can already hear them.
“No, no, ah, Rose. I’m not crying over the paparazzi!” Batting her hands away from his face, Shane sniffles sharply again as if actively trying to disprove his point. He brings his own hands up to his eyes and rubs at them hard enough to give her pause.
“Really? Because you look-” “NXG’tiew, fuck sorry.” Whatever she’d expected his retort to be, ducking aside into his elbow certainly wasn’t it. He reemerges looking sheepish, eyes slightly watery and the tip of his nose vaguely red where he’d pressed it against his jacket.
“Oh, bless you. If you hate my perfume that much you could’ve told me like an hour ago.” To be fair, she’d known Shane was at least mildly sensitive to perfumes, but in her defense, this one barely smells like anything. Leaning across him into the cubby in the car door, she pulls a pack of tissues and drops them in his lap with a knowing smile.
“No, I don’t! Hh’NGXtiew! fuck. I don’t hate it- snf- ugh, it’s nice, Rose. NXT’tiew! Fuck, I just don’t usually ride in limos -snf. The seats get d-huh-dusty H’hNXXTtiew! Hih… H’HIYYISH! fuck!” Well, good thing she got those tissues then. He rips into them almost instantly, burying his nose in a politely folded wad that instantly become useless. That’s so fucking Canadian, who the hell folds their tissues in the middle of an allergy fit? Shane Hollander would, honestly, that checks.
“Yea, fuck, bless you, babe. You’re not gonna, like, die are you?” Shane glares at her for that, which is probably fair. Rose gives him space for a moment, squinting through the camera flashes as he glares down at his tissues like they wronged him. She watches as his lower lip slowly pouts out. Without warning, he shifts in his seat to face her, his face downturned like he might actually cry now just to spite her.
“I could be getting fucked so good right now.” Sue her, she bursts into laughter, instantly clapping a hand over her mouth to disguise the squeal of delight. At least that answers her questions about mystery guy, apparently he’s alive and very very well.
“Oh my God, that’s what you’re thinking about?” Rose rolls her eyes so far back she worries for a moment that her grandmother was right and they’ll get stuck.
With a groan of faux exasperation, she reaches over to unbuckle Shane’s seatbelt and yank him after her as she leaps out of the car. The cameras go wild, zooming in where her hand is entangled with Shane’s, headlines already forming as she drags them both sprinting down the road. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registers that this is probably straight out of some romance film she’s starred in. None of that matters, not really, not when she hears Shane laughing so hard between sniffles that he’s practically tripping over himself. And really, what’s the point of having a gay best friend if you can’t run from the paparazzi with him so he can get laid?
Kip Grady
How the hell he ended up in a text chain with Shane fucking Hollander either needs to be studied or kept in an FBI high-security vault. It’s 45% Scott’s fault, of that much he’s certain, but the rest can only be blamed on his own inability to shut the fuck up. Elena had laughed at him when he’d shown her the text thread, calling it ‘two giraffes thrown into a lake and trying to swim out’. Maybe Kip needs better friends, he ponders this with a frown and throws back another shot of tequila.
“Holy shit, is someone dead? Did the Kingfisher close?” Kip swears right then and there that if he looks over and Scott is in anything less than full Arctic hiking gear, he’s getting jumped. Sue him, he’s spent the last three hours planning a tour of his campus for Shane fucking Hollander, he needs to blow off the steam. Considering it’s the third of August, though, the odds are looking very much in his favor.
~~~~
Respectfully, Shane Hollander is fucking gorgeous. Obviously he’s in great shape, all hockey guys are in great shape, but holy shit. When he walks up the stairs of the subway entrance in his dark jacket and even darker sunglasses, it’s like a choir of angels starts singing. This is the guy who gave him the most embarrassing three-day text exchange of his life? Seriously? Kip pulls himself together with a roll of his shoulders and strides forward when Shane pauses.
“Hi! Kip Grady, great to meet you.” Offering out his hand, Kip tries to keep his entire body from shaking with nerves. For a moment, Shane stays very still, looking from Kip to his hand, then carefully around the crowd behind him. Shit, do Canadians not shake hands? Is this like a thing?
“Sorry, yes. Shane Hollander.” With a frankly lethal smile, Shane finally steps in and shakes Kip’s hand. “I was expecting you to have more people. I, um, did some research from what Scott has said about you.” Oh perfect, his fiance apparently talks about him to the richest sports player to ever grace the planet. No pressure, Kip can feel his smile biting into his cheeks, yep, none at all.
“If you want I can call Scott and he’ll-” Reaching into his pocket for his phone, he almost jumps out of his skin when Shane grabs his wrist with wide eyes.
“No, no! That’s not what I meant. I just… I’ve seen all these pictures of college campuses and it’s like there’s never just one person.” There’s genuine confusion in Shane’s eyes that makes Kip’s face split into a smile that honestly hurts his cheeks. Fucking shit, is Shane Hollander funny? Scott can never learn about this, he’s going to be so insufferable if he finds out Kip’s laughing at shit like this.
“Are you asking where my multi-cultural friend group is?” That seems to stump Shane slightly, his eyes widening as he ponders.
There’s a moment of silence that makes Kip immensely and immediately regret opening his mouth. Was that offensive? It’s a pretty generic stereotype on college campuses, but Shane’s never been on a college campus. Now he probably thinks Scott is dating some insensitive white guy. He works at a smoothie shop, he literally can’t afford to be an insensitive white guy!
“Yes?” The confusion in the furrow of Shane’s brow rips Kip right out of his nervous spiral. Oh thank God, relief hits him so hard that he bursts into laughter that borders on performatively loud. “Or…no? Maybe! I barely finished my senior year of high school!” Finally, as if all the nerves have melted out of him, Shane relaxes enough to smile and lift his voice. Good, he talks too quietly to be in New York, it’s honestly refreshing to hear from a hockey player.
“Holy shit,” Kip has to wipe tears from his eyes, chuckling all over again at that, “fuck, okay. We gotta get you introduced to a library then, man.” That manages to pull a laugh from Shane, and it feels like winning an award.
As it turns out, Shane’s actually really easy to talk to, not to mention the guy has this bitchy quip humor that hits Kip in the gut. It turns out that he has a lot of opinions on the media’s portrayal of Scott, both as a person and in his relationship. Not many of them are positive, which heals something in Kip’s mind that whispers about how homophobic hockey players all are. Shane and ‘a friend’ of his have apparently talked about the Stanley Cup night and NHL Awards ceremony a lot.
What really throws Kip for a loop though, is that apparently Shane fucking Hollander is deeply invested in the Canadian real estate business. It starts as a throw-away comment about Scott’s high-rise having mismatched granite and suddenly Shane is lecturing him about cabinet marble or something. For all Kip thinks of himself as a scholar, he hasn’t the foggiest fucking idea what Shane is saying. He’s grateful to finally stop across the street from his university library so he can actually say something with conviction.
“Here she is. Thomas Shanahan Library, my home away from him.” For all intents and purposes, it’s a functional library, fulfilling its purpose of being a building with books and desks. Otherwise, there’s nothing at all remarkable about it; it’s not very tall compared to some New York libraries, it doesn’t stick out from the buildings around it. Sure, one of the faculty hung a row of resistance flags on the outside, but really that’s the only way you’d notice it.
Even the inside isn’t that different from the outside, there’s books, there’s study spaces, there’s a group of bitchy looking students crammed onto a sofa around a computer. Kip feels slightly self conscious bringing a millionaire into his little library, but he has nothing else to compare it to. Not like Shane’s going to judge him for a fucking library, it’s a library, it does what a library needs to do, and it’s free.
“It’s…nice?” Shane makes a face as he says it, glancing around like he’s trying incredibly hard to be kind.
“You don't have to spare my feelings, man. I have a very rich fiance, I know what an actually nice library looks like.” Kip rolls his eyes but relaxes when he notices the smile replacing the grimace on Shane’s lips.
He leads Shane around the main floor, pointing out the best places to sit for just enough sun to read but not cast a glare on your computer. It’s probably rambling, so sue him, it’s rare he gets to tell these stories to someone who wasn’t there with him. On the second floor, Shane actually has to slap a hand over his own mouth to keep from laughing at Kip’s story of thinking he saw the actual devil after a long week of sleepless nights.
“This is the very spot I found out I basically flunked a huge midterm my first semester.” Patting the sturdy wooden table in a secluded corner of the library, Kip watches a plume of dust lift into the air. Before he can crack a joke about how obviously underused the library is, Shane jerks away and presses his nose into the crook of his elbow.
“Hh’IYISCH’hu! Excuse me- snf-” He blinks blearily and sniffles.
“Shit, bless you, sorry. I should’ve warned you, it’s old and gross in here.” God, if he gives Shane Hollander a sinus infection over a stupid library, the Metros might show up at his door. To be fair, the few Admirals he has met might thank him for it, but he kind of has started to like the guy.
“No, no, it has- hhISCHhu! ‘Scuse me- it’s charming.” Shane rubs at his quickly reddening nose and offers a small smile to reassure Kip, it doesn’t work.
“Bless you, and no it absolutely is not. As an art history major, I assure you, this is far from ‘charming’.” Is ‘charming’ a Canadian thing? God knows no New Yorker has ever said anything is ‘charming’, at least not in Kip’s crowd. Is it a gay thing? Maybe, it’s a gay Canadian thing. Not that Shane ever said anything about being gay…other than the glaringly obvious fact that he is.
“It’s uh- snf-” he pauses for a moment, one eye squinting like he’s going to sneeze again. When he doesn’t, he just sniffles and shrugs “It’s quaint.”
“It’s ugly,” Kip amends, “are you okay?” He might not know about ‘charming’ but ‘quaint’ is definitely a gay thing to say. Maybe he should transfer to linguistics and write about ‘gay dialect’ for his PhD.
“F-Fine. Hh-heh-hIESCHhu!” So not fine, got it. Shane clears his throat from behind his elbow and Kip takes that as his signal to end the library tour.
“Bless you, I think that’s enough of Thomas Shanahan, cmon.” Kip leads them away from his Desk of Failure (he needs to get that trade marked) with a few quiet sniffles.
“What a shame, he seems like a nice guy.” Why did no one warn him that Shane’s fucking funny? Kip mourns this piece of information not being public as he drags him out of the library to the cafe across the street. It’s blunt, sure, but that’s so intensely juxtaposed to who he expected Shane Hollander to be, that it’s bordering on hilarious. God, he cannot tell Scott he’s laughing at shit like this, he’s going to be insufferable.
Ilya Rozanov
Shane loves Ilya, really he does! Hell, he married him because of how much he loves the guy, it’s in permanent ink in their safe how much he loves him. Just like he’d promised in his vows, that love has overcome every obstacle they’ve ever faced. And trust him, they’ve faced their fair share of obstacles and come out the other side somehow more in love. Except, maybe, there is one obstacle that may be their final one.
“Ilya Grigoryevich Rozanov-Hollander!” Shane barks from the laundry room, stomping out and looming dangerously at the top of the stairs. He glowers down as Ilya slowly peeks his head around the corner, only half his face visible as he cowers. Good, he should be scared, Shane’s going to fucking kill him and maybe divorce him.
“Моя самая любимая, Моё самое драгоценное сокровище. What is wrong?” This adorable, sweet-talking, blue-eyed asshole! Shane seethes as his ears slowly redden to the tune of Ilya’s Russian endearments. No! No, he’s pissed! He will not be placated by a few words and those terribly wide puppy-eyes.
“How many times have I told you to empty the lint trap after you do laundry?” The tone Shane uses sounds more like a growl than any actual human speech.
“Umm, probably many, yes?” Ilya’s eyes go impossibly wider as he shrinks as much as his giant hockey-player build will allow, still using the wall as a shield. It would be funny if Shane wasn’t so singularly focused on being annoyed.
“Yes, many! Get over here before I file for divorce.” With a gesture eerily similar to how he used to drag Ilya into his apartment, Shane motions sharply towards the laundry room. Seeming not to even think about it, Ilya scrambles up the stairs after him, nearly losing his balance and tumbling down with his gusto. Sure, it seems like Shane means business, but it’s also kind of insanely hot when he gets bossy like this. There’s a faint buzzing in Ilya’s ears as he trails behind his husband, taking his verbal beating over the laundry with his head hung.
“You know, this is a fire hazard. You could burn the whole house down with your dog and husband both trapped inside because you didn’t just throw out the lint.” As soon as he opens the door to the laundry room, Shane is pointing to the open dryer like it’s a crime scene.
“This is dramatic! Anya is my smart Russian girl, she would not stay while the fire alarm goes off.” Ilya’s mildly offended tone makes Shane frown even harder, turning to face him with his hands on his hips.
“And what about me?” He asks.
“Eh, you’d probably be at practice or something, abandoning your family. You are like deadbeat husband, it is very sad.” The usual rush of fondness that bursts in his chest whenever Ilya jokes with him like this is quickly slapped down. He’s being stern, goddamnit!
“Oh and I’m the dramatic one? Clean the lint trap, Ilya.” Huffing something under his breath in Russian, Ilya leans down into the dryer. He makes a big show of scooping the lint from the trap with an exasperated sigh and holding the offending ball of lint out to Shane.
For a moment, Shane wants to slap the stupid thing out of Ilya’s hands and wring his neck like they’re in an episode of Tom and Jerry. This is insufferable! How can he be expected to live with this childish, pushy, whining, adorable, Greek sculpted specimen of a man? Before he has a chance to shout or jump his husband or some mix of both, Ilya’s nose gives a sharp twitch and he’s whipping away from Shane. In what can only be described as an incredibly poor snap judgment, Ilya lifts both his to his face.
“Eh’hESCHuh!” The outburst sends the lint in his hands flying across the room and, coincidently, straight into the air around Ilya’s head. Shane watches as his eyes squeeze shut, his nose scrunching and twitching, before he finally lifts his hands from his face. There’s a split second of confusion where Ilya seems to be lost without his hands to duck into, but the urge to sneeze overpowers any rational thought. “H’ESCHTuh! ESHTCHhuh” Instead, he sneezes freely towards the floor, the force of them causing the flying lint to leap up where it came to rest on the ground.
“Fuck! Ilya, what the fuck?!” Shane jumps out of his trance to actually grab Ilya by the wrist and yank him down the hall to the bathroom.
“I- ESCHhuu! Hih…h’HEECHuh! ESHHHuh! Господи, I- ETSCHhu! Hh’HYESCHhuu! Heh? hih…H’HESHCHuhhh! Ч-Чешется H’HESCH! H’hESCHuhh! ETSCHuhhh!” Those words, at least, Shane is all too familiar with. He rubs a hand up and down Ilya’s back as he guides him carefully to lean against the sink as each sneeze bursts from him. Ripping a few tissues from the box atop the toilet, he quickly shoves them between Ilya’s hands. In return, he gets a small glance of gratitude before those watery blue eyes squeeze shut again. “ESCHuhh! H’hESCHuhhh! Hih… stop, don't- HESCH-TSCHhuhh!”
“Jesus, okay, come here.” It must be exhausting, always sneezing in multiples, Shane muses as he carefully slides around Ilya to wet a cloth with cool water. Thinking back, the lint trap always did make him faintly stuffy white emptying it, obviously that would be worse for his ultra-sensitive husband. Fuck, that’s probably why he’d find the thing full most of the time even when Ilya would dutifully accept ‘laundry duty’. He’d thought he’d just been half-assing his chores, it’s a fairly common thing for him to do when he thinks it’s ‘unnecessary’.
It’s incredibly hard to think when your husband is sneezing so forcefully beside you, not bothering to blow his nose. Over the years, Shane has gotten more accustomed to it, especially since Ilya doesn’t actually like to be blessed all that much. That was yet another thing he’d deemed ‘unnecessary’, claiming if he was losing so much breath, everyone else should save theirs.
“Bless you, fucking hell, are you done?” Turning off the sink, Shane waits until there’s a pause in the sneezing before pulling Ilya’s hands away from his face. He tries not to look at the drenched tissues still in his hand as he drapes the damp cloth over Ilya’s eyes and the bridge of his nose. It’s usually enough to ease some of what Ilya calls the ‘tingling’ in his sinuses, since Shane has forbidden him to actually scrub his nose off.
Making a vague noise of discomfort, Ilya drags his fingers over the cloth roughly to try and scratch away the lingering itch. Well, it only works 65% of the time anyway.
“Don’t do that, hey, uh-uh. Leave it over your eyes, don’t rub.” Much like his own mother would, Shane makes a tutting noise and pulls Ilya’s arm down by his side. They stay there for a moment until Ilya’s breath calms its stuttering hitching rhythm to something more stable.
“I will- koff- vacuum the laundry room later.” Ilya offers softly, tossing his tissues in the general direction of the wastebin, unable to see if he reached it or not. He doesn’t, but Shane appreciates the effort even if he doesn’t appreciate his offer of ‘help’.
“Like hell you will.” It’s a gentle offer, the kind Shane is so used to hearing from Ilya when he thinks he’s made some sort of mistake. This though, is hardly a mistake, and he has half a mind to never let Ilya in the laundry room again.
“I made a mess.” Oh, Ilya. Sure, Shane hates messes, the kind of hate that makes his bones feel too large for his body and his skin itch. And of course Ilya knows that, he’s accommodated that more times than either of them can probably count. Not that Ilya would ever call it ‘accommodating’, but Shane knows no one else would do things like this for him. Only Ilya would think of the mess left behind after sneezing enough to surely be congested the next few days. Yeah, new rule in the Hollander-Rozanov household made just now by Shane himself; Ilya stays out of the laundry room indefinitely.
“Baby, I think there’s more important things you should be worrying about than that.” Like the hives can see already beginning to form on Ilya’s palms. It’s fine, really, it is. They have a special cream for moments like this, bought after one too many encounters with hotel fabric softeners. Still, Shane hates seeing those patches of little red bumps.
“You said- snf, snf- you will divorce me.” Ilya pouts, which is impressive considering his big blue eyes being covered at the moment.
“I said- I didn’t.” Working the words over in his head, Shane feels a pit of guilt opening in his stomach, he sighs and plants an apology kiss on those gorgeous red lips. “I wouldn't divorce you, ever, got it? And especially not over a fucking lint trap.” Ilya only pouts harder. “I was- maybe- being a little dramatic.” He relents at the sight, reaching up to pet reassuringly at Ilya’s jaw.
“Hm, no, is still me. I am the one with dramatic nose.” He huffs, his nose scrunching as if to prove the point.
“That’s not a competition. Bless you, by the way.” Shane can’t help it, he giggles. The sound earns him a small smile covering Ilya’s pouting lips.
“You bless me every day.” There’s a very high chance Ilya is wiggling his eyebrows at him where they’re hidden under the cloth. Shane just sighs and rolls his eyes, patting his husband’s thigh as if to say ‘at least you tried’.
“Keep this on for another five minutes, I have to finish the laundry.” He taps the damp cloth over Ilya’s eyes as he maneuvers past him, trying to pretend the chorus of whines he gets in return doesn’t make his stomach flip.
How does Cl/iff Marl/eau sneeze like ? I'm torn between dad sneeze and big humongous guy who stifles them to near silence. What do we think ? I don't think he covers or does with loose fist at best
Honestly i think he just does that huge, gasping and harsh hands-free stifles/half stifles if you know what i mean. Its usually a double z
And if he doesn’t stifle it just comes out as a huge single sneeze that he just aims towards his shoulder/the floor
Asking for a friend (the friend is a fic I'm working on, bear with me) what do we think S/hane H/ollander is allergic to? I like to categorize I/lya as just being generally sensitive to EVERYTHING, but I dont think the same goes for S/hane. He grew up in the wilderness so I dont really think he's that affected by pollen, and its canon that he probably isnt that bothered by cats...
So sorry to hear about your cheekbone! That sounds like it sucks.
Since you’re stuck at home, any Russian prof stuff you want to share with us? (Husband included hehe)
Alternative: headcanons about ur most Russian prof-like character and their significant other
Can confirm, breaking your face sucks. But its a hazard of the occupation lol
I have what will, probably, be devastating news- I dont take classes with Russian professor anymore, thats why you haven't heard about him. Ive also published my thesis and moved onto research for my dissertation with an advisor who isnt Husband. Consider this my formal apology to anyone who liked hearing about my interactions with them, but Im in an entirely different department. (My degree has nothing to do with Russian) I have gone out with Husband a few times since publishing in December, but it's very unlikely I will have anything more to say about these two.
Long story short- Im on bedrest for two weeks with a broken cheekbone. End of story, but I would really love if you sent in some requests of stuff youd like to see me write or drabble about or generally be unhinged over! Any fandom (this Im mildly aware of) is fine, go crazy with it! Also open to OC requests even though I just introduced them...
I didnt expect this to get so long...but now you see my true obsession with the big equestrian guys living in my brain. What an odd sentence...Anyway! Of course we had to start with my golden boy, the entire reason I started writing about these freaks.
Benyemin Van Luchts-
-Allergies; ragweed, common alder, common yee, Timothy grasses (the stuff commonly found in Equine hays), Kentucky bluegrass, orchard grass, (yea, pretty much grass in general)
-Suffers the most out of anyone of all time, especially during the spring and June
-Medication is usually enough to stop him from constantly sneezing, but thats pretty much all its good for. IE- he will still be in sniffly, itchy, watery misery until the fall
-Absolutely cannot handle spice. It very rarely makes him sneeze but he will get teary eyed and sniffly (he tries very hard for the Sanchez/Reyes family)
-Will keep talking between sneezes. If he has a point hes gonna get it out, sneezes be damned
-Has a very short grown out buzz cut that he gells into little spikes every morning (one of the few things about his appearance his father approves) but if he isnt feeling well, his hair gets flat and frizzy
-Blesses himself in German usually before anyone else can
-Prone to annoyingly spaced out fits. He'll be sneezing two-four times a minute but these little clusters of sneezes will go on for fifteen minutes
-Habitual stifler. Can do it hands free if he just clenches his jaw
-Very minimum movement when he sneezes, people probably wouldnt notice if he didnt whine through the exhale after each one.
-"Ng’TCht- guhhh" "hh’hih...hh’NGT’sch-huhh"
-Rarely gets sick, like maybe once every two or three years. German constitution or whatever
-When he IS sick, people expect it to be a feverish head cold, WRONG. He's coughing up a lung, hacking into a fist, everything settles in his chest, save him.
- Gets so incredibly sore out of nowhere on random days, he'll just wake up aching and not know what to do about it (from personal experience)
-Has broken almost every bone in his arms and hands at least once (just information idk)
-Long, high nose bridge and sharp tip (has been teased a lot for having a 'beak')
-Has a travel pack of tissues in every bag he owns and has to replace them bi-weekly
-Constantly twitching, scrunching, wriggling his nose but thinks its impolite if he actually raises a hand to it
please tell me of the equestrian hatelovers i wish to squish their cheeks
AH okay, Im so glad I said something because I love talking about my hopeless boys. The amount of people who want to hear about my characters is very nearly bringing me to tears. But now you have to deal with this long post of me screaming over them.
Basically, there are three main characters in this universe and a handful of side characters that occasionally come and go. If you've ever read anything Ive written, theres an 85% chance I have drafted that idea with these characters. Here's my little rundown of those three characters; both general info and mild snz info. I want to make longer posts for each of them with primarily snz stuff, so if you just want that, then stay tuned!
Benyemin Van Luchts-
*he already has a fic posted* *most of everything about him has changed though*
Oh where to even start about this guy... he's a top show jumping star from San Mateo, California and current heartthrob of the world. His father and mother both grew up in Thüringia, Germany and, through technicality alone, he is a German citizen and German Olympic athlete. There's a lot to unpack about Ben's family history so I wont bore anyone with that (for now).
He grew up with three sisters, all of whom are lawyers and the prides of the Van Luchts family. The age gap between the sisters and himself is due to the movement of his father's military job (hence his sisters growing up in Thüringia and him being born in San Mateo), even the youngest sister is ten years older than him, and the eldest is 14 years older. As such, Ben grew up in their shadows under the constant criticism of their parents. Despite never being fully supported by his family, he was picked up by a Dutch Olympic show jumper and pretty much followed him around the continent as his groom and favorite student. Ben was a world-class star at 17 and rode in his first Olympic games at 18, winning silver for Germany.
Despite the general trauma Ive inflicted onto him, this guy is considered across the sport to be the entire embodiment of sunshine. His smile at the end of every course goes viral and breaches containment on Equestrian Twitter more than twice a month. The media swarms to every interview to watch how his bright blue eyes practically light up with the attention. Interviewer's adore him, he is the golden boy of the show jumping circuit, and he can do not wrong. Even at clinics hosted at his private stables, no one has ever been able to say a truly mean critique about Ben. His own opponents are frazzled by just how kind the dude is even when he's teasing them and tanking their records to hell.
So, insanely talented guy who rides horses, boring, move on. WRONG, insanely talented guy who is allergic to horses! Are you following me? Guy who never thinks he's good enough, sitting in a stall, pinching his nose because his meds aren't strong enough to quell the tormenting itch of his sinuses. I am so obsessed with him, he is my ultimate little rag doll, I put him in my mouth and shake him like a dog toy.
I'll link a post for more detailed snz canons here
Cain Phillips-
Scottish show jumper from the highland city, Tomintoul. Cain was raised by a single father who runs his mutton farn like it's the navy. There wasn't a lot of money growing up, but every penny his father saved that didnt keep them alive went right into funding Cain's equestrian lessons. It became incredibly clear before long that Tomintoul had a prodigy on their hands and neighbors started helping get Cain to Edinburgh. To this day, Cain sends most of his winnings back to the little town that rallied enough to send him into stardom.
Of course, you wouldnt guess he's a charitable guy by the way he acts. The way that Ben flourishes under the camera lights, Cain scowls and sneers at the media attention. Any question given to him is liable to either be ignored or given a simple 'we'll see in the arena' at most. It's not like he's a bad guy, theres no proof that he's anything but antisocial, his grooming staff have nothing but nice things to say about him! So no one really pays attention to 'that other guy riding with Van Luchts' other than the frankly obscene thirst edits. Thats right, the general official news outlets might not care for him, but every other person on the planet is carnally down bad.
There's actually a very funny story in my drafts of how the internet found out Van Luchts and Phillips were dating. Cain gets stopped on the streets by a fan as he's carrying artificial (for obvious reasons) flowers through the streets of San Mateo. The fan gushes over him for a moment before asking why a Scottish athlete is in California during clinic season. To which Cain gives the very obvious, very blunt, answer of 'my boyfriend wanted flowers' before vanishing into the night like Scottish batman.
Again, individual snz canons go here
Ricardo Sanchez-
Now THIS little bitch, this is probably my favorite character to right because he's so...not normal. He might not have any tragic backstory, but this baby is so lost in the sauce of life that problems just *appear* to him. Two of his biggest problems are 1) his boss, Benyemin and 2) his boss's needy boyfriend, Cain. Sure, theres also his roommate, Vivian, and her baby daddy, and their kid, and the general nonsense that comes from that, but mostly he has two problems.
Ric was born in the Dominican Republic which his parents fled right after his birth when organized crime rates began to rise. They moved to Wyoming where both his parents naturalized and got their three eldest children to do the same. His mother took up odd jobs as a maid, cook, substitute Spanish teacher, whatever brought in money. While Ric, his elder sister, and his father traveled further south to New Mexico and Texas, joining groups of cowboys working on cattle ranches. One thing led to another and somehow Ric was contracted with Benyemin as his stables personal ranch hand.
Fast facts about Ric because otherwise I'll talk about him forever!-
He's a mama AND daddy's boy, the middle child with two younger sisters, an older sister, and an older brother. His Instagram is heaven for anyone who really likes watching muscular guys lift hay or lay on tree branches as the sun sets (its the most aesthetic thirst trap ever). Yes, he has The Kink, I just had to do it to him. He invites Ben over for every holiday to spend time with a family that aren't a bunch of assholes -- he starts inviting Cain too after Ben sheepishly asks if he can bring him. There's an 85% chance his parents have adoption papers for both Ben and Cain in their bed-side drawer now.
I'm worried about posting my snz oc's because what if someone says theyre just knock off h/ollanov? Like, yes theyre rivals to lovers but hear me out PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
