Hi friends! You can call me Sherbet/Sherbie (25+yo, she/her). I write sick!fics (fan and OC) and draw pictures that are mainly snz-centered or whump oriented. **Due to the nature of my content, I ask that none of my fics or art be shared to minor or non-snz/whump k!nk blogs!!!**
I’ll be pinning this post so anyone can feel free to refer to the following section (below the cut) where I detail more about myself and my writing preferences! I’ll also include a fic master-list at the bottom there. I finally have the nerve to share my stuff with the community, so I hope you guys can find something you enjoy! Thank you for reading! <3
A few personal notes:
I’ve never actually posted to tumblr regularly before (this is my first time sharing fics in general), so please be patient as I learn the ropes! Feedback or formatting advice are always welcome and appreciated!!
I respectfully ask that minors dni with my page, please!! This is a k!nk blog and I might share more explicit content eventually.
I’m EXTREMELY private, thus I’d prefer not to share any PID or other information I haven’t already posted/included in my bio. Messages are welcome, just please be respectful! I’m a slow responder but I promise to get back to you ASAP!
This is NOT my main page! So while I won’t be able to like posts from this blog specifically, I can follow and reblog! Hopefully this suffices so that I can spread and celebrate the wonderful talents you guys have <3
Fic-relevant notes:
I include: a quick summary (blurb), estimated word count, a feat. character list, and TWs at the start of ALL my fics. Please check them out prior to reading anything of mine in case there’s something you don’t vibe with. If you feel like a TW or tag is needed that’s not already there, just dm me!! Smart reading is safe reading <3
Things I write: I typically favor M allergies and colds/fevers, but do write F/NB characters too (equal snz rights bc snz is snz)! I eat up hurt-comfort, so whump and very minor injury are often applicable to my stories. Again, keep an eye out for the TWs if you have concerns!
Things I DON’T write: I’m NOT an emeto person at all (I’m phobic IRL), but personally won’t turn away if it’s mentioned in a fic. You’ll never see a full fic from me where emeto is central to the story, but it could be mentioned (check TWs to be safe). I also don’t write about real people or furry content (sorry)! I’m self-conscious about writing OOC, so I don’t typically write characters from series I haven’t seen or am at least vaguely familiar with.
I do love the thought of receiving recommendations, so feel free to reach out via dm or ask if you have a fic idea! I’d love to give it a try.
Hey, I’ve been seeing some weird shit on this side of tumblr again— so I’m posting some more metaphorical rent-lowering gunshots to keep this blog free from bigots and predators.
This is a trans and queer blog. If you’re going to misgender and patronize queer folks or their queer characters, or be a terf in general, you can get tf off this blog.
This is an adult kink community. If you’re going to post kink content involving minors, fictional or not, you can get tf off this blog.
If you’re going to be racist, zionistic, a nazi, or any other brand of bigotry, you can get tf off this blog.
If you’re going to sexually harass and pressure folks into giving you content to jack off to, despite their clear boundaries + autonomy, you can get tf off this blog.
You are not entitled to any body, nor any content, just because you want to get hard. You are not entitled to mistreat and harass folks in this community. You are not justified in being a bigot and a bully, all while hiding behind a screen like a coward.
We are not available for your mistreatment, nor your predatory bullshit. Get tf off this blog.
Now then! Back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Hi anon! OMG you’ve answered my prayers because I was secretly hoping someone out there was also into S/tar T/rek, so thank you for the ask <3 The entire crew is so cute so I’ll sprinkle some thoughts on multiple characters below! I will readily admit Spock is my favorite, so just know I tried to make these as non Spock-centric as possible <3
3 Things I Like:
1. I actually got introduced to Star Trek via the newer movies (it was a trilogy). However I liked the movies so much I went back and watched the OG series feat. the same characters. My opinion: both are absolutely incredible, even if for slightly different reasons. I honestly don’t have a strong preference for either version, and think both casts did an amazing job portraying their characters and the dynamics of their respective timelines. I will say though that I think the OG series was more progressive in some ways than the newer movies. The OG was extremely ambitious both artistically and politically (especially for its time), and rewatching some of the episodes I was genuinely surprised (and pleased) at how vocal they were about their representation. Main takeaway though: Uhura has always been that girl in every version — not only is she always presented as insanely intelligent and articulate, but her self-confidence in her craft and readiness to defend herself against anyone who thinks otherwise makes her sooo cool. She is also stunningly beautiful, of course!
2. As for the newer movies, the initial rivalry between Spock and Jim (which wasn’t really present in the OG) gave their dynamic a really unique allure. The way they parallel each other’s strengths and weaknesses is *chef’s kiss*; and watching the rest of the crew navigate and bear witness to the two’s petty arguments and eventual teasing is just adorable! While I do prefer Jim x Spock (and Bones hehe), I thought the Spock x Uhura relationship was also really touching. The way she’s sometimes frustrated by his lack of self-preservation (because she loves him and wants him to stay safe), and he’s completely enamored by her confidence and brain is aksfhskslk!! They have such a healthy mutual respect for each other, and their devotion to keeping each other safe throughout the trilogy just warms my heart.
3. Focusing away from the main-mains, I feel obligated to add that Chekov, Sulu and Scotty are incredible characters (I wish they got more kudos honestly)! While Scotty was used a lot more for comic relief in the newer movies, I am SO happy that none of the crew ever felt “dumbed down” in any version I’ve seen. Everyone is competent and treated as an expert in their respective field. I love the friendship (maybe more for some viewers) between Chekov, Sulu and Scotty, especially in the OG show. The way they switch between besties to accomplices to coworkers so naturally makes their dynamic a favorite of mine. Sometimes they are each other’s mentors, and sometimes they are gossiping about how weird their captain is. No matter what though, their love for each other is palpable, and that is so endearing to me.
3 Snz Headcanons + Blended Scenarios:
1. This may be controversial, but while I can imagine Spock as a shy sneezer (damn that Vulcan pride!), I can equally see him as not giving a damn. For instance, we know that he’s not very accustomed to human traditions, and while I don’t think he lacks basic etiquette, I visualize him as not really sweating over sneezing as being gross, embarrassing or anything unusual. I can picture him sneezing and just being like “it’s a natural phenomenon, therefore there is no reason for me to hide it, ignore it, or feel ashamed”. That being said, I do think the crew would be VERY freaked out. I think the first time he sneezes or has a cold/allergies, everyone around him is like “…you do that??!” lol. Maybe it’s rare for him to get sick or unusual for him to have a reaction, so everyone overreacts when something happens. Jim would definitely pester him about how he’s feeling and try to trick him into going to sick bay, and Bones would give him an earful about his health (and probably make a few jabs like: “I’m surprised you don’t sneeze out your ears” or “so even Vulcans have sick days”…something like that). Also a green flush when he’s sick or sneezy?? That’s a must-keep trope.
2. Of the crew, I think it’d be expected that Jim and Spock are the most resistant to admitting when they need to take a break (as they’re both extremely stubborn). HOWEVER, how cute would it be if Chekov (being the baby of the crew) was also super adamant about not taking sick days? Maybe he just wants to prove himself or puts the needs of his crew over his own health, but either way he just refuses to slow down because “his friends need him” and “there's so much that could be done!” Unfortunately for him, I get the sense he’s a busy body, so he’d probably get sick fairly often too. For instance, I could 100% see Scotty or Sulu needing help with something, and Chekov volunteering his help like “I can do that!” even though he’s supposed to be resting. Alternatively I think Uhura, Sulu, and Bones would all be hesitant to take a break from their work if they were unwell, but ultimately be like thank God, I just need a nap and a break from these weirdos lol. Meanwhile Scotty has no problem throwing in the wrench, putting himself in self-quarantine and saying “see you in a week!” But no matter who is affected by allergies or general sickness, the crew is always checking up on whoever is down (in their own cute ways of course).
3. As for the crew’s sneezes, I think there’s a lot of diversity to the point where everyone knows exactly who is sneezing and who is sick at any given point. They work in such close proximity all day, I just think it’d be inevitable they’d all pick up on each other’s quirks. For example (and like I suggested earlier): Spock is a rare sneezer, so when he has a reaction everyone is surprised or maybe uneasy that means something could be wrong. Chekov has a weak immune system, so it’s not unusual for him to be sneezing several times a day (usually little rapid fits here and there) that he is very polite about (always excusing himself, using good etiquette, blessing others, etc). He would also talk through his sneezing, which everyone finds kind of cute. Sulu, Bones and Uhura are all prone to allergies in my head, but only Bones and Uhura are really strict germaphobes — like if you get either of those two sick, you’d better count your days (or expect some really dirty looks). The difference is that Bones can’t handle not knowing what is causing someone’s symptoms, so even though he abhors germs, he will get right up in your face and examine you (then religiously wash his hands afterwards while he pretends he isn’t that concerned about your health…when he totally is worried). Sulu oppositely loves the attention when he’s feeling unwell, and is almost always the first to volunteer to check in on a sick crew mate (leading some to joke about whether he should be the ship’s doctor). Then last but not least, Jim is an OBNOXIOUSLY loud (maybe double?) sneezer. I imagine his sneezes are somewhat gruff and belatedly covered too. He’s lucky he’s so charming, otherwise he’d probably be less tolerated when he has a stuffy nose. That being said, he has a tendency to overplay the charm when he’s sick (faking extra suavity in hopes of preserving his pride and reassuring everyone he’s fine), which is a dead giveaway something is up; and when he’s feeling really unwell, he’s apt to lose his temper until Spock and Bones eventually force him to get some rest.
Sorry this came out sooo long, but thank you for the ask again anon! I hope some of these ideas speak to you or someone out there, and if anyone ever wants to talk about the movies/series/fics always feel free to send me a dm! I’m also curious if anyone here has seen the other series, including the more recent animated show (L/ower D/ecks). I have no familiarity with it, but I do like J/ack Q/uaid’s voice work so I’d be curious what people think! <3
for the 3x3 asks, if you're willing, o/f/m/d j/im? if not (and it's all good if that's the case!), dealer's choice of t/he p/itt character(s) :)
Hi anon! Thank you for the recommendation! J/im from O/FMD is one of my ABSOLUTE favorite characters (really I love the whole crew but Jim is so special to me)! <3 <3 **Minor spoilers warning below just in case!**
3 Things I Like:
1. I love that amongst the OG crew, Jim was the definition of “I’m trying to mind my own business but my idiot friends need me” lol! They were sort of the voice of reason (blunt, no-nonsense), but that didn’t mean they weren’t also irreverent themselves. Plus their slow evolution into someone who actually loves their found family, finds acceptance in their company, and is ultimately devoted to protecting them was sooo beautiful. They were also a badass with their knife (need I say more about how hot that is)!!
2. I think the way Jim’s story handles identity and navigating that relationship we have to ourselves was done with a lot of great intentions and emotional depth. The whole episode where their past is revealed is also such an incredible service to their character, because it really forced Jim to make peace with their past and embrace their identity outside of what was expected. Their constant struggle with who they are expected to be vs who they want to be felt really personal. In the end I’m glad that the writers chose to emphasize Jim’s vulnerability as a strength rather than the crux of some personal failure, and rewarded Jim’s evolution with a found family that fully embraced and accepted them.
3. Going off of point 2, Jim’s connection to Olu and Archie is nothing short of perfection in my eyes. Watching Jim find love in both partnerships was so natural and heartwarming. Between the big moments (Jim and Olu reuniting, Jim sparing Archie) and small ones (the three of them cuddling, holding hands, being silly together), I was really kicking my feet and twirling my hair! The love the three of them shared was so intimate and wholesome! <3
3 Snz-Headcanons + Blended Scenarios:
1. I think Jim absolutely HATED wearing the fake nose early s1. I mean, you’re out at sea, it’s humid, and now you’re stuck wearing this fake nose all the time (where’d they even get that lol)…definitely a lot of potential for irritation! Say Jim has a cold or allergies and it’s driving them crazy because they keep trying to itch their nose but every time they forget they have the fake one on. Maybe Olu makes an excuse for them to get away and take care of their nose in private, but when they’re around the others Jim can’t help but be pissy because all they want to do is sneeze and wipe their nose freely.
2. In my imagination, Jim has really fittish sneezes (like sneezing handfuls at a time, very rapid, soft and somewhat effeminate) and gets soooo embarrassed over them. Stifling can be done but not always successfully due to the tendency to sneeze in multiples. Cursing after fits is inevitable, and if you try to bless them they will glare at you (unless you’re Olu or Archie in which case they might begrudgingly say thank you and reassure you they’re fine). Since they are insecure about sneezing, Jim will try to avoid people when their allergies act up (I think dust would be a major culprit). I could see one of the crew members asking why they look run down or if something’s wrong, so Jim pulls out their knife and threatens everyone to mind their own business. The other crew mates may think Jim is just antisocial and neurotic about keeping a tidy room, but in actuality, they just have bad allergies and prefer to be alone when they’re at their worst! Ultimately, Jim is just a moody sneezer imo, and doesn’t like the attention their sneezing usually attracts.
3. Now if Jim’s friends sneeze, it’s a totally different story. Jim will tease them relentlessly and make sure to cheer “salud!” (maybe even sing-song it if they’re feeling extra obnoxious). BUT Jim always makes sure to follow up in private and see that their friends are feeling okay. When someone they care about is sick, Jim is a fan of small and subtle caretaking gestures. For example: maybe when Olu’s allergies are acting up, Jim teases him about borrowing their fake nose, then quietly suggests to the captain that Olu be strictly delegated work requiring he stay inside the ship that day. Alternatively Archie could be under the weather, so Jim spares an extra serving of their food for her, insisting they aren’t hungry when they just want to make sure Archie’s staying fed and hydrated as she pushes through a cold. In general I think Jim’s pretty fast on their feet, so I imagine making up an excuse for the sake of covering for their peers comes naturally to them…even if they won’t admit outright that what they’re doing is very sweet <3
Thank you for the ask! I love this series and miss it so dearly (the poor pirate babies deserved so many more seasons but I’m glad we still got such good content while it lasted)!! <3
If you’d like, Con/nor from D:/B/H for the 3x3 asks? 👀💙 I love your takes on him!
in return for your (rosie’s) AMAZING 3x3 prompts for m/a/w/snz here, I offer up my own headcanons for our baby Con/nor below!!
3 Things I Like:
1. Connor has such a wholesome perspective to him (at least from my playthrough — I know if you make certain choices you can keep him strictly Android so he’s not so fluffy lol). As for my version of Connor, it’s not necessarily his naivety or innocence that I like, but the fact he’s so curious about life in general? It’s just so endearing how he navigates his identity, emotions, and relationships in-game…you can tell he’s really trying to learn and empathize with his insecurities.
2. I find Connor’s duality really intriguing too. The cold and grizzled detective (think Hank) is a delicious trope, but can also be interpreted as severely one-note or jaded if it isn’t done gracefully. With Connor, I really appreciate that D:BH balanced his character by presenting him as someone who can lock in and do really analytical work AND sass or cheer up his coworkers with a bunch of silly questions or comments about their hobbies/habits. Sometimes androids in media are made to feel strictly rigid (like a walking calculator with a superiority complex), so it’s really refreshing D:BH avoided some of that by giving players the option to uncover and develop Connor’s little quirks! It’s just so enticing (and rewarding) watching Connor grow and change!
3. Put simply: he likes dogs and he likes Hank. There is no cuter trio than those three working and living together <3
3 Snz-Headcanons + Blended Prompts:
1. I am OBSESSED with the idea that thunderstorms or static makes Connor sneeze. I just imagine that he’s sensitive to shocks or electricity, so replacing a light bulb or working through a thunderstorm sets him off (almost like an allergy)! He’d be sort of shy about it; like he thinks it’s embarrassing because it causes these little kitten fits that highjack his wiring, so sneezing is adjacent to being swiftly and repetitively “rebooted”? I think this would happen enough that eventually Hank would be able to predict when it’s going to storm ahead of time because Connor gets so sneezy. Hank is also mischievous enough he’d probably tease Connor by harmlessly “shocking” him on purpose for the sake of getting a reaction out of him…or use him as a “circuit-detector” because the closer Connor is to a malfunctioning wire/flickering light/loose plug/etc. the more he sneezes.
2. I imagine Connor gets fairly insecure over feeling too human and not human enough, so in turn he’d sort of switch how he behaves when he sneezes based on his present company? For example, if he’s around other androids he’s more apt to fight his sneezes, or avoid acknowledging them altogether when they do happen; whereas around humans he feels obligated to bless everyone, use proper etiquette, mimic good hygiene practices (even if it’s not necessary), etc. not just to feel normal, but to put others at ease that he’s “just like them”. ALSO blue blush around the cheeks, nose, eyes when he’s having a reaction?? Sooo cute I have to assume it’s canon.
3. Connor has photographic sneeze memory for sure. He knows everything that sets anyone off, keeps a track of their allergies, when they’re sick, how they sneeze and why, etc. I imagine this drives Hank crazy because he’ll sneeze and Connor will say something like: “Air quality is XYZ today” OR “that’s the sixth time you've sneezed in the last hour; may I suggest brushing Sumo to reduce airborne dander?” OR “you sneeze like that when you’re cold, should I grab you a jacket?” Obviously he’s just trying to be helpful, but he doesn’t really understand how that could also be embarrassing for some people + BONUS if Connor automatically records his close peers’ sneezes, so when Hank argues he can’t possibly tell the difference between a cold or allergies, Connor can go “erm, actually-!” and replay a sneeze, diagnosing the differences in sound, length, frequency, all that technical stuff. Obviously Hank would scold him for this, but he’d probably do it anyway (at least in Hank’s case because he just wants to look out for him) <3
Thank you for the ask (and letting me know my asks were previously disabled adhfdjkhkklh)!! This was so fun and creative! I can’t wait to read more of your own ideas rosie — your prompts and headcanons are genius! <3 <3
To anyone else who wants to join in or see the original post, here is a link (just please be conscientious of where/what community you post to)! Enjoy!! <3
I would love to know your thoughts on our babygirl clark kent from the m/y a/dventures series!
<3 sherbie
And I would love to give them!! :D ❤️❤️❤️ Ik you said you just started watching, so I’ll keep these spoiler free o7 but long so under a cut lol
3 things I like about Clark from MAwS:
1. He’s SO sweet and SO gentle. Strong enough to absolutely crush a bitch in one hand if he wanted, but he’s so so gentle and only does anything even remotely violent or aggressive to be defensive.
2. He’s sooooo easily flustered and sheepish and it’s so cute, especially since, again, Guy Who Could Kill Someone With His Left Pinky is? Sort of very vulnerable emotionally? 🥺 Gets hit by a train? No problem! Gets too close to his crush? PANIC. I really enjoy the dynamic he has with Lois where he’s actually genuinely mild-mannered (but brave of course!) and she’s very very bold and a little unhinged lol.
3. Speaking of which, character dynamics!! I love his dynamics with Lois and Jimmy! They make such a fun trio and he fills the roles of Main Character and Superman really well without overshadowing the others imo, which I think is a difficult balance to find.
4. Extra because some of the above might be kinda repetitive lol: I think his character design is Very Shaped! And as a character, he feels on the fresher side for Supermen for me
3 snz/adjacent hcs:
1. Obligated to say the trope of powers going haywire when sick/sneezing. Has some breath powers, and that’s Risky with a cold.
2. Some who don’t know him expect him to have a louder or harsher sneeze because he’s tall and muscular. Hear me out: softer snz and it’s kind of intentional, like how he’s intentionally really gentle when he’s Ridiculously Strong. He’s kind of made a habit of/trained himself to sneeze in softer half-stifles because he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself, and also it might help avoid powers going haywire. Might sound like “hihh’hehh… s-sorry, one s-sehhhc—hiht’tkxch-chiew! Huhh? Ihtkxt… -shiew! Ugh, excuse me, sorry, I-I didn’t mean to interrupt, um… What were you saying…?”
3. Very polite. Will bless others after every sneeze until it gets to A Lot and then he’ll flounder for a moment and when they’re done he’ll be like “… bl-bless you! That’s… gotta be some kind of record. Aaare you sure you’re all right?” with a slight chuckle. Apologizes/excuses himself before AND after sneezing if he can help it, even if it means hitching through it.
4. Usually sneezes once or twice at a time. Three means Something’s Up, and Jimmy knows that. In fact, if he wants to hide being sick or allergic to something, he might try to avoid that third one as much as possible because he knows Jimmy will clock him in an INSTANT.
5. Oh, someone mentioned offhandedly you were sick maybe recently?? Here, he’s shown up with homemade soup that’s a Kent family recipe. Do you need anything? How are you feeling?
6. Soggy, soggy, soggy wet puppy on the side of the street when feverish. Big sad wet puppy dog eyes. Needs hugs.
3 snz/adjacent prompts or scenarios:
1. Sneezing while hiding is soooooo up for grabs with this series, solo or with other characters. Investigating something and having to hide/be quiet in a dusty area or surrounded by some other irritant. He would be soooooo embarrassed about it if Lois and/or Jimmy are there lol.
2. Y’know what, I think snz kink!Lois could be very fun. GOD knows Clark would be down to indulge anything she wants, although this Could be dangerous with powers, which is a huge con for him and a huge pro for her lmaoo. She’s kind of a thrill-seeker, it could be fun. I think she’d also enjoy the thing of Extremely Strong Superhero losing control of himself not over Kryptonite but over… a flimsy fluffy little feather?
3. Allergic to some alien flora/fauna/people themselves is always an option for sure.
4. Jimmy gets sick. Clark brings him soup etc. and takes care of him. Lois tells Jimmy he’d better not get her sick because she’s busy following some lead or something. Guess which ambitious reporter gets sick because of Jimmy lmao. Clark takes care of both of them. Jimmy says Clark should be careful not to catch it (maybe even citing some previous time Clark caught someone’s cold/flu from trying to caretake), and Lois thinks that’s not a problem because he’s literally Superman and his Kryptonian physiology is probably like way different than theirs. Guess which Kryptonian gets sick lmao and somehow worse than the other two did actually??? The other two are feeling a bit better (Jimmy’s had a couple days and Lois gets hit hard but bounces back fast IF she is forced to rest), so they now take care of him. 🥰
Send an ask with the name of an 18+ character from a fandom I know, and I’ll answer with:
3 things I like about them
3 snz/adjacent headcanons
3 snz/adjacent prompts or scenarios
If you want, you can specify things like snz cause, fluffy/angsty/spicy/etc., involvement of other characters/ships, point in timeline, etc.
Feel free to reblog with a list of fandoms if you’d like to get these asks too! Just don’t reblog to non-snz or non-snz-adjacent blogs please ❤️
It’s 100% okay to skip a category, do more/less than 3 for anything, or narrow down characters that people can send (e.g. prefer 1+ gender, main cast only, etc.). Zero pressure for answer length or anything else, these are just for fun :3
first time playing through a/ce a/ttorney (went in completely blind) and can confirm that the attorney and prosecutor are obsessed with each other. they may just be the og h/eated r/ivalry.
(I’m only on ep. 5 of 15 in the original trilogy so no spoilers plz but omggg the chemistry is 😮💨👌 + maya as their daughter/lil sister I could cry I love them all sm!!)
AN: OOH BABEY!!! Part 5 >:) This one is.....debaucherous LOL
Here's my masterpost! 4000 words. Smth smth elanos vs the three guards he rose the ranks with then superceded when he got promoted, it's all revenge banging, dawg. ALSO WARNING this is super messy and way gross, intentional contagion and also the imagery of 3 jockish guards bullying someone into being screwed.
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A Knight's Court - Chapter 4 - The Shepherd Wolf and the Pack of Wild Dogs
“Aren’t you three supposed to be by the entrance hall?”
“We’re just taking a little breather. Don’t worry, there are eyes on our posts!”
Three guards. Trellen, who he’d brushed by earlier, a simple fellow and friend who he unfortunately now outranked, Vexus, an elf and Arenae, a tiefling. A couple of fellow guards he’d grown up around and eventually came to train. Arenae always had a bit of a rivalry with him, but Elanos’ coolheadedness gave him the edge to be knighted. A major slap in the face at the time, but now water under the bridge…he hoped.
Elanos turned momentarily back to his food, tongue running over the back of his teeth and rubbing at a bit of orange that had gotten stuck. The taste of citrus lingered in the back of his raw throat.
“…Are you waiting for me to dismiss you?” He asked after a moment. They were all standing, arms behind their back, heads down. When he asked, the one in front, Arenae, looked up. A slight raise in his left brow indicated…confusion.
“Ehm, suppose you could,” He said quietly. The three exchanged a glance. Elanos shivered and lifted his head before ducking sharply to the side.
“—hhIHd’dsschHHh!!”
“Bless you…”
“Excuse me...Is there reason for me to not…? You were expecting something else?” Elanos righted his head with a sniff and a touch of his fingers to his nose. He set down his cup, “Why?”
“No reason! We’ll be on our way-!”
“No, now you aren’t. I have yet to dismiss you,” He stood and put his hand on his blade’s hilt. From behind Arenae, Vexus grimaced in the way a child would, having been caught scribbling on the wall. Trellen was staring at the ceiling, “At ease.”
The three did so, hands behind their back in a uniform pose and parted so he could walk into the bunks. It was begrudgingly done, Elanos rolled his eyes. Frankly, he could not care less on a personal level, but his position called for discipline and order and due to their apparent skirting around of something, that requires a room inspection. Other than the fact they were playing hooky, of course.
He scanned the room.
Cards on the bed, unmade. He could let that pass. A small satchel of gold off to the side. A…a poster of some kind, written with charcoal.
Walking up to it, he felt the three tense. His index finger scrubbed under his nose before he pointed to the poster.
“Is this a betting pool? For the tourney?”
“Er- ah, no, just some other record keeping,” Trellen mumbled before getting elbowed. It was quick enough that Elanos could hear it, but not see it upon turning.
“And you’re betting against the house?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. A bit of his pride withered away, but was bolstered again, knowing that he likely would have found it hilarious were he still a guard.
“They bullied me into it,” Trellen said quickly, to which the others gasped and began to make their defence.
Arenae cleared his throat first, “Light fun. We didn’t bully him into anything-“
“That’s not true.”
“It was a-a uh, even split. Someone had to bet against,” Vexus added. Her arms folded with a glare that Elanos could feel on the back of his neck, “He volunteered.”
“No-! Hold on, did not! Um, can we explain?”
“I don’t care about your bets,” Elanos cut him off with a sigh, “But take that down. You shouldn’t be betting, ahhd-and especially not on this. If this left the room, you would not have me to contend with but…” He glanced away, “You know. Don’t let me catch you pulling that sort of thing again. And your disloyalty to me, Trellen, I will remember.”
The last part was said jokingly, yet the gravel and exhaustion in his voice didn’t convey that all too well.
“Miss when you used to be loose with it, Elanos,” Arenae sighed, but held out his hand for the rolled-up poster. It landed there with a crinkle.
“I’m not feeling 'loose with it.' I have a horrible cold I’m trying to manage before dinner tonight…” He retorted.
“I kinda figured. The bags under your eyes and your voice sound…unlike you. If I were allowed to bet, which I’m not, I’d say it would be five gold on you pushing through dinner like nothing's wrong.”
“No issue in that.”
“You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be off duty, my good man,” Trellen said with a faint chuckle, “Come on.”
He broke formation, which, really, who cares, but it signalled to Elanos he’d made his point. What he didn’t expect was a pillow to be grabbed and whirled towards him. His reflexes were quick enough to grab it, and he lowered the pillow with his eyes wide to see Trellen jeering behind it.
“Remember that? You used to be the one encouraging us to stay up and practice our ‘sparring.’”
“Of course I—I did-! Hhuh!hhHESChhihww!!…huh. But the stakes were lower then…”
“Oh? High and mighty now, aren’t we?” Arenae snickered.
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m sure Lady Courtney would be delighted to know her most loyal and disciplined blade was up encouraging bad behaviour in the bunks before he had a leash around him.”
“Fuh-funny…”
His nose was itching quite a bit. These guys did not clean as much as he would have hoped.
“You should dust more often.”
“We don’t have the luxury of a maid, Elanos. My gods. Listen to yourself! Someone’s let the siren song of luxury get to their head,” Vexus scoffed, “Come on. The three of us and you? How quickly you forgot that sometimes power in numbers outweighs the quality of your own skill.”
He turned around to reply, only to get a pillow to the face, one that he failed to catch. He was so preoccupied with handling one of them that he had let his guard down. Two pairs of arms suddenly grabbed his shoulders and wrangled him down to the bed.
“I’m not going to fight you, Vex,” Elanos groaned, trying to wriggle out. Where he was dextrous and athletic, the others here had brawn that outweighed him. His time in etiquette classes was their time hauling metal to the smith or drawing up the bridge and climbing. They were too clumsy to accompany a lady, which took social and physical grace, but they were more than capable of…ganging up on him. A pang of desire hit his chest.
He felt the weight of Arenae on his hips, and he opened his eyes to see he and Vexus had switched places. The horns that framed the tiefling's jeering face, the swishing tail. This man knew how to exploit a vice like it was in his blood. He watched as Arenae reeled back a fist and slammed it against the idle pillow to knock up both a cloud of dust and a few loose feathers.
“We can call it even. You let the betting thing slide, and we…won’t tell Lady Everheart about your ‘delinquent behaviours’ or the fact you let the three of us get away with all this nonsense. It’s your position that oversees us, isn’t it?”
Elanos furrowed his brows. If this meathead knew anything about anything, he’d know that Courtney would find this fact utterly charming. He didn’t bother answering and let his head flop back in disinterest. Arenae was over him in a second, hand held out, a small, rounded down feather pinched between thumb and curled forefinger. Elanos shut his eyes.
“Is that a no?”
“It’s a withdrawal from the question…”
“Darn.”
Even though he could anticipate what was coming next, there was little he could do to fight off the physical sensation. A soft, fuzzy feather against his hypersensitive septum had his lips parted at just a touch. The tickle travelled up his nose, hitting every nerve on the way. Each attempt to get loose, flexing his muscles and rolling his shoulders, only prompted the other two to hold onto him tighter. His upper lip trembled with a gasp.
“HEHh! HH!hhHIH-!”
The feather waved back and forth. It was so close he could smell the leather glove of Arenae’s uniform. Like a fan stoking a fire, left to right, hitting the raw skin of his septum and spurring on a runny nose.
“HIiH—ddshHHYIhewww!!”
“Agree to our terms, or you don’t get a bless you.”
“What nonsense…” Elanos groaned, lifting his head. His chin brushed against his collar as his mouth hung open; both eyes threatened to close, lower lids scrunched to a squint. His nostrils flared, and he realized that part of the feather was still being held there by his former colleague’s hand.
He hated to sneeze at this angle where the only place to aim was forward, on himself, or up…also on himself. Deeply unhygienic either way. He didn’t want to be the one spreading a bug around the house staff. He sniffled in dismay, realizing he’d sneezed a full stream of mess over his lip, which wouldn’t be remedied with anything less than a handkerchief. Pulling at his arms only made the two holding onto them more determined to keep him still.
“I kinda miss you like this, Elanos,” Arenae folded his arms and smirked. There was a hint of genuine endearment in it, “And by that I mean under me. In every sense.”
“I-I need to cover my mouth…”
“They teach you that in your manners class?”
“I-I’m gonnahh—gh- get everyone sick if-!”
“Oh, sure. Do so. Maybe we’ll get a day off…or not. Maybe only knights get those.”
Elanos’ face felt warm from the onslaught of stimulation. He wasn’t sure if it was seeing his accusation land so perfectly or knowing that at the end of the day, he really could just reprimand Arenae for this and get the final say, but he felt a stirring in his chest. Maybe it was arousal. His libido had been messed with all day. He ran a tongue over his warm lip and exhaled through his mouth before trying to sniffle.
“You should give me a day off. Otherwise I’d be standing in the hall, sneezing all over the open foyer…” Arenae muttered, grabbing his shirt. It felt like a bullying grip to muscle him into it. But he refused, “How unhygienic is that, huh? Not turning my head, not breaking formation? But you get to go to sleep in the middle of the day?”
Arenae’s knee suddenly slid up between his legs, pressing his tunic in a bunch up against the seam of his pants.
“You need to learn how to be amongst us again, man, you’re living the high life for too long. Want us to reeducate you?”
Elanos began to answer, but it came out as a garbled moan. The pressure of his jostling knee between his thighs was...distracitng. Vexus and Trellen exchanged a glance as he opted to nod instead.
“And that’s how you do it,” Arenae said under his breath. The self-congratulating grin he wore was irritating, just a bit, “Tamed him like a horse.”
He slid a hand between his knee and the base of Elanos’ pants, reaching up to get a handful of him.
“I like this feather business. Makes him seem more human. If one of you wants to flip him..?”
There was a comedically long pause before Vexus had the initiative to roll him over. She held his wrist down to the bed, and Arenae hoisted him up by the hips so he could be on his knees with his face to the mattress. This old bed. The smell of the sheets was like a hit of nostalgia to the back of his skull. He remembered how it felt. How it rubbed up against his skin. He had the urge to scrub his nose into it.
“Let’s take turns,” He heard Vexus say. A strong leather glove steadied his hip before playfully pulling up the hem of his tunic to reveal the hem of his pants. Pulling them down exposed his thighs and rear to the cold air of the guards' barracks, where body heat would often make up for the lack of a fire.
“Been wanting this for a while,” Arenae had the gall to chuckle. He pinched Elanos’ thigh and laughed as he moaned, “You’re suddenly very compliant.”
“I-it’s cold…” He mumbled, trying to keep from muffling himself into the sheets. His cock was out. He felt it twitch as a warm hand slid between his legs.
“Put your hands on your back. I’ll hold em. Like reins,” Arenae instructed, “The two of you, make yourselves busy— or, Trellen. You’re responsible. Take this…I want him looking like he face fucked an slime the time we’re done.”
“You’re into some weird shit, Ren…”
“Shut up.”
Someone grabbed Elanos by the hair, fingers smoothing along his scalp before lifting his head. At the same time, something wet touched his entrance, and he jolted. A grip on his wrists, pinning them against the small of his back, was unmistakably Arenae. The same strength used to guide horses or wield a glaive, steering from behind. In the front, Trellen’s hand in his hair, the other clumsily batting a feather under his nose. Like a cat swishing it's tail...
“StuhHH—hhuhtssSSHHHuehww!! UHTSCHhhhuhwww!!” He sneezed almost immediately, lips hung open and drooling into the mattress. It was awfully messy, the angle of being smothered into the bedding paired with his inability to breathe the whole way. He groaned as his head was tilted further up and the feather was put in his nostril and left there with an encouraging tap of Trellen’s thumb.
“Keep gasping, pretty boy…”
His hitches were mixed in with moans, feeling his former trainee’s fingers slipping in and around him. Unable to look, he was forced to contend with the blooming itch that the feather brought on to his senses. Breathing in only jostled it further, forcing it to drag along the sensitive tissue inside his nose. Whining only made it worse.
“G-gehHHt- get it out-“ He gasped, “hHEH! AddtsSSHHhyihww!! APTSSCHhhuhw!!”
Someone pinched at the stem of the feather and dragged it so it hung delicately at the very edge of his nares, pressing against the flaring rims. He felt his nose running.
“Wipe that spit off your mouth, Elanos,” Arenae grunted before pressing his tip right up to his entrance, “No way to talk. Hahh…fuck, if people could see the Blade of the House now..!”
“HHIh!hah—! HHPTSSCHHhhhhww!”
Stifling was fruitless. He gritted his teeth, but the tears and spit streamed down his face nonetheless, forced through the gaps between his chapped lips.
His mouth involuntarily dropped open as Arenae entered him. A secure kind of pleasure that had him overwhelmed with a need to stay still, to serve as his handler’s needs.
“Please—please my face itcHESSSHiuhww!! Iisschhhyihwww!! T-TrellehHHd—!EETSCHHhhihww!!”
Groans of pleasure came from the one behind him in response to the full-body clenching from each outburst. His glove’s seams dug into Elanos’ wrists, leaving marks.
“Don’t move so much then. You’re making it hard for me to get a grip!”
The hand in his hair pulled up, and like a puppet, he followed. The feather was yanked out with a pinch, practically in time for him to sneeze all over Trellen’s gloves. The shine reminded him of freshly polished leather.
“Hnnf—hhah…”
Leave it to a guard to be quiet. After a few quick thrusts, creaking the worn-out bed, he felt Arenae grow hot. Genuinely hot, with his palms and the soft leather feeling like they've been warmed by an afternoon in the sun. There was no extravagance as he felt a surge of warmth behind him, and Arenae pulled away with heavy, laboured breaths. He felt liquid running down his thigh, and his own cock twitched again in jealousy.
“Your turn,” Arenae mumbled, and he heard a slap of a glove to a shoulder. A new set of hands gripped his arms, and the sensation of someone’s thigh against his hip forced him to still.
“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to bet against you…” Vexus said with an eager lilt to her voice. Something warm rubbed up against his ass, some kind of sexual organ, though the physiology was lost on him. It felt alive, writhing. His mind felt foggy. Vexus…eladrin, maybe, he never asked. She must have had some flora ingrained into her biology. Was he under some kind of pheromone? “Don’t panic, Sir. Nothing unusual for me.”
Definitely a plant-like tendril of some kind. Elanos whimpered, but was quickly cut off by Trellen’s hand on his lip.
“Can you two hurry it up?” Trellen mumbled, “He’s looking at me with his bird eyes…”
“Use the front if you’re so impatient,” Arenae scoffed.
“I don’t want to. He’s all…slimy.”
“That’s no excuse. Isn’t that right, Elanos? What was the code of conduct? Any guard of House Everheart shall carry on a task asked of them by their superior? Why don’t you give an order?”
“HhHUH!!ttscHHoo!…hhHSSCHHuhhw!-SSCHhhuhww!!”
“Really, with a little integrity? Please?”
Elanos coughed. It sounded thick. He had so much mess streaming down his face it was getting hard to talk without his throat getting all…phlegmy.
“Trelled…” His brows upturned as he tried to look up, lips shuddering. Vexus was starting to moan with her sex thrusting into him, it was hard to focus. His eyes threatened to shut to make way for another sneeze, “HhnNGGSHhht!!…”
“I’m getting impatient, man, come on…”
“Trellen, let me—…I’m ordering you to…t-to let me s…”
His face felt hot. He wanted to, so badly. If it would give some kind of reprieve to his own throbbing cock.
“Let me use my m-mouth…”
Embarrassing. He felt his pride crumble further. He was Trellen’s superior, therefore, and he had to oblige. But the order came with such little bite, it was like a…a forfeit.
His chest heaved, and he coughed again.
Maybe he shouldn’t be so…languid with it. Arenae was right. He couldn’t deny an order given. That was the only thing that would give him the upper hand. So what if three of his guards fucked him on his knees? He could crush the lot of them with a word.
“Take your pants off, Trellen...” He suddenly groaned, and the whimpering from Vexus cut off. There was a commanding presence in his chest, it projected his voice past the congestion, “Hurry up.”
“Dog has bite to his bark, you probably should,” Arenae said snidely under his breath. Trellen scrambled for his fly.
“Arenae,” His tone shifted to be direct. The crackle from his sore voice gave it an edge. He heard him shift to attention, out of habit. The tiefling tutted in disbelief at his own reflex, “Can’t even command those under your own rank. I have to do it for you?”
“Hey, ouch, don’t be so smart when you’re the one with some tentacle up hi-“
Vexus groaned as she came, cutting him off. Utterly spent. Elanos turned his head, unable to keep from shaking.
“AADIiitshhihwww—!“
“Ugh!” Trellen, with his cock out, yelped. The spray hit his sex, and he tried to hide his disgust.
“I’m gonna make sure the three of you are standing guard outside-“ Elanos grumbled as Vexus rested her sex against his hip, “Whatever this cold is to me would be hell to you, without the help of divine health.”
His lips pressed to Trellen’s tip. The man was staying awfully still, which was helpful. Was he particularly squeamish? Must be. He languished in using his tongue, even dragging it over Trellen's fingers holding his cock upright. Hearing the occasional grunts of pleasure, he dragged his tongue along it even further, his friend trying to keep from admitting his own delight. A repression of arousal overlaid with disgust.
His lips parted momentarily. The small gasp of air seemed to do the trick, and he saw Trellen’s cock twitch with a pathetic rope of his cum. Elanos shut his eyes and aimed.
“IiHSCHhhhihwww!!…"
"Oh gods-"
"Hhhah…wipe my mouth-“
He watched as his sex twitched again from the settling moisture.
“H-huh?”
“Use your uniform…”
A shaking hand grabbed the bottom of a tabard and blotted his face gently. The strings of mess were webbing onto it, dripping off in strings, coating the fabric. It was useless. The other two were watching, heavily breathing.
“I’m serious…” Elanos added firmly. His nose was running in a way that threatened to drip further. He moved his hands, and out of instinct, Vexus let go. Elanos quickly grabbed for Trellen’s belt and used it to hoist himself up. A firm yank pulled at his top.
“That’s disgusting-! What-! What do I-?!”
Elanos drank in the satisfaction of watching him squirm around in horror as he wiped the mess off his face and then blew his nose into his uniform. The others hid a laugh.
“Vexus.”
Elanos steadied himself on his hand before finally swinging his legs down to the ground. He reached over and, with a firm grip, tore the sleeve from her shirt with a staggering rip. A sudden air of fear fell upon the three at the sound.
“Elanos, what the hell-!?”
He stared at her, wiping the cum leaking over his thighs. His pupils were narrow. Kept her in place, watching, up until the torn sleeve was folded up and thrown in her direction.
He drew in a breath. Somewhere in all that, he found his bravado. His jaw was sore. His head was too. Pulling up his own pants hid his own throbbing erection, but he figured he could deal with that after disciplining the last of them.
“You recovered from that quickly,” Arenae said with a laugh. He was standing closer to the door, arms folded, “What’s in store for me?”
“I’m sure this is enough for you…” Elanos sniffled, wiping the last of the runny nose onto his backhand.
He glanced around the barracks until he could find Arenae’s visor before scrubbing his backhand against the faceplate. The interior of it, that is…
“You’ll contend with dealing with your subordinates in due time…I know that will be a test of diligence for you,” Elanos muttered, thumbing at the side of his nose. He pressed his hand against Arenae’s cheek. The man was hard; he felt his pulse. One glance down confirmed it all, “I expect everyone to be in uniform. I’m fairly certain you all are issued just the one, so I’d advise being quick and cleaning before you get back to your post…”
“You just got your— your cold all over my shirt!”
“You can do your own laundry, can’t you? Can’t stand to be a little wet or get your hands dirty?” Elanos answered passively. He walked out the door and took his dish from earlier, “Get to it before I reprimand the three of you for abandoning post...”
He left as the three hurried to gather their armour, muttering and bickering amongst themselves. Finally, he could drop his professional act, and the sluggish nature of a head cold could take over once again. Standing in the hall, arms folded, he caught sight of the Bard and his telltale grin.
Elanos grimaced, which told that man one thing. Underlings…what a pain in the ass…
Blurb: Ilya is under the weather and Shane is acutely aware of his inner forecast. Plot is spoiler-free!
Length: 3.6k words
TW: Cursing
**Please do not share to non-kink snz blogs and minors DNI! Feedback and formatting tips are always welcome <3**
“aa’HZSHH-!!”
When Ilya catches Shane staring at him out of the corner of his eyes, he inadvertently stiffens his lip and flashes a frown in his direction.
“It was a sneeze, Hollander.”
It was several, actually, Shane thinks but doesn’t say. Two when he’d entered the apartment, and four while he showered. But hey, who was counting?
Oh right. He was.
Shane sits up straighter on the couch, watching as Ilya enters the room, freshly cleaned and slightly damp following his shower. Ilya had only just returned from practice an hour ago (having gone against Shane’s wishes), and despite the obvious head cold he was battling, he’d managed to catch a ride to Shane’s, dodge his chastising, abandon his gear, shower, and change into his lounge-wear in record time.
All that was left to do was flop onto the couch, which he does with a resounding grunt and effort that has Shane nearly dropping the book in his hands. Removing his glasses, Shane gingerly places both his novel and spectacles on the coffee table beside him. Now that Ilya was here, he was the immediate center of his attention.
The minor migration from the bathroom to the couch must’ve been enough to stir something in Ilya’s sinuses, because the second his face hits the cushion he’s refurfacing with a hastened gasp. Shane can literally count down to the sneeze in his head.
One…two…three-
“aA’ZSCHH’hu!…hhy’ZZCHH-!! Fuck!”
“Bless you,” Shane chirps, adding: “again.”
“Is that all you can say now?” Ilya asks moodily.
“If all you do is sneeze, then yeah, I guess so,” Shane replies.
Ilya had been irritable all day, and it looked like this evening would be no different. Before he’d left for practice, he and Shane had gotten into an argument over whether it was really necessary he attend or not. Maybe “argument” was too strong a word, but chalking it up to a minor disagreement felt equally disingenuous.
Ilya had been stubborn as all Hell about going. On any other day Shane might’ve applauded his commitment to the sport. After all, of everyone either of them knew, it was Shane who understood just how vital it was for a captain to be present for his team. Today was different though. Shane knew Ilya wouldn't listen to reason when it came to his health, so he’d tried to convince him that if he went to practice and exacerbated his cold (or God forbid infect his whole team), his attendance would only work against him. Normally Ilya would listen to logic like that, but Shane was pretty sure he’d ignored the facts purely so he could get out of the house. Ilya didn't like to sit still for too long, and getting him to rest at all was like pulling teeth.
Deep down, Shane wasn’t angry or disappointed Ilya had gone; he was only frustrated over his flippant disregard for his own health. That, and parts of him worried that his persistent attempts at nursing Ilya had inadvertently chased him further away. He didn’t think that was the case, but the possibility bothered him. He couldn’t help it when the thought clung to him like an itch…and speaking of itch...
“hHH’ZZSHH’hu!”
Shane startles free of his own thoughts.
“Bless you,” he repeats more patiently this time. With a deliberate softness, he reaches for Ilya and pets the tops of his hair. It was his way of extending an olive branch after their earlier argument. “How was practice?”
“Fine,” Ilya grumbles. He sniffles and rubs his nose on the couch. “Fucking cold.”
“Is it getting worse?” Shane asks.
“What?”
“Your cold? Do you think it’s getting worse?”
Ilya tilts his head, squinting slightly.
“…I meant the rink, Hollander,” Ilya corrects. “The rink was cold.”
“…Oh.”
Ilya stares at his boyfriend, shaking his head while he murmurs something under his breath. He sighs, chest deflating as he sinks deeper into the cushions.
“I’m not dying, you know,” he murmurs. “You act like you’ve never heard me sneeze before.”
“Okay, but you don’t normally sneeze like that.”
Ilya immediately peeks at Shane, looking at him sideways in a way that has him feeling unusually nervous. It was like Ilya had suddenly flipped the script and Shane was now the one being studied.
“Oh? How do I usually sneeze then?” he asks.
Of all the ways he could’ve responded, Shane never would have guessed it’d be like that.
“W-Well,” Shane licks his lips, “it depends. Out on the ice, you tuck it because of the gloves. You know, sneezing into your jersey or your collar or whatever. But out in public or during your interviews, you pinch it; usually in twos. Not like when you’re alone with me.”
“Huh,” Ilya breathes, glancing Shane up and down, “and how long have you noticed this?”
“A while,” Shane admits. “Like…I don’t know; since rookie season?”
“Oh, so you were spying on me,” Ilya teases, his tone dry but gaze mischievous. “You are obsessed.”
“Fuck off,” Shane says, embarrassed but pleased to be reinstated as the subject of Ilya’s coy banter (as opposed to a reminder of his poor condition).
“You should be paparazzi,” Ilya proposes.
“And do what? Follow you around, take your picture? I do enough of that already,” Shane smirks. “Besides, you’re only saying that because you like being the center of attention.”
“Ah-ah — I like being the center of your attention,” Ilya amends. “Very important distinction. It’s where I belong; between the ice-“
Ilya inches closer via an army crawl and nudges his forehead against Shane’s thigh.
“-and you.”
Shane smiles and clicks his tongue. “Can’t argue that,” he concedes.
“Good, because I am sick of arguing with you,” Ilya sighs. “And I am actually sick.”
His confession catches Shane by surprise. “So you are sick?”
Ilya glances at Shane.
“Yes,” he answers, "aren't you the one who’s been saying it all day?”
“I guess, or I mean…” Shane swallows as he reorganizes his thoughts. He was used to Ilya speaking candidly, but not always with such honesty. He’d anticipated having to coax admission out of him, but once again, Ilya has usurped his expectations.
“I thought it was possible,” Shane says, finally. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Why didn’t you just tell me, he thinks.
Ilya shrugs with a sniff. “It’s not important.”
He says it like it’s simple, but to Shane it's anything but. It was Ilya’s reasoning that bothered him. He may not understand Russian, but after ten years, he could speak Ilya with near fluency; so he knew deep down that “it’s not important” secretly (and heartbreakingly) translated to “I’m not important”…and that hurt him almost as much as he knew it hurt Ilya.
Shane clenches his jaw and stiffens his shoulders, his body bracing against the thought as a tough, painful feeling swirls around his chest.
“It’s important to me,” Shane responds; his tone is stern and serious, but lacks defensiveness. “How long do you think you've been sick?”
“A few days,” Ilya estimates, suddenly giving Shane an odd look. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Ilya clarifies. “You seem bothered…am I bothering you?”
“What?” Shane asks, almost sounding offended by the suggestion. “No, you don’t ever bother me.”
“Then what is wrong?”
“Nothing, I-…-I just want to make sure you’re okay is all,” Shane says, swallowing again. “Are you? I mean, do you feel okay?”
Shane thought what he’d been asking was obvious, but then it occurs to him that Ilya wasn’t always used to being asked questions about himself; at least not outside his performance as an athlete (or who he was sleeping with). Asking Ilya about his health was always a tricky gamble. On one hand, it made Shane insecure. Ilya did always say he asked too many questions, and Shane could imagine why the questions he asked may feel more interrogative than intended — especially to someone so unfamiliar with being asked at all. Up until they’d met (and even years thereafter), Ilya had been reluctant to discuss any subject breaching the surface, so Shane was acutely aware this sort of attention was foreign to his boyfriend under most circumstances. He didn’t want to dismiss the progress they’d made by being too pushy.
Still, he also couldn't just ignore that something was wrong — not when it was sniffling in his face.
Thus, Shane shifts his weight on the couch and faces Ilya directly, lacing their fingers together and curling both their hands in his lap. Up close, and connected, he senses and sees a sort of hyper-vigilance shadowing Ilya’s features; an unease that he wasn’t comfortable expressing. Catching this, Shane instinctively hovers his thumb against Ilya’s knuckles, touch light and fleeting in hopes that in some way he can comfort him — remind him he’s not judging, only curious. Only caring.
Together they share the silence. Shane didn't need to repeat himself. He knew Ilya had heard him and was processing the question. The least he could do was be patient enough to await an answer.
Shane raises his other hand to cup Ilya’s cheek, which burns and flushes with fever. He tenderly brushes a stray curl out of Ilya’s icy blue eyes, then plants a kiss to where the lock lands, curtaining his face.
“You look so tired,” Shane murmurs, his touch reluctant to retreat from Ilya’s space as he moves on to stroking his beauty mark.
Ilya swallows, sniffling and allowing his eyes to fall shut while he leans into Shane’s touch. He pecks his palm, breath warm against the flesh.
“I am exhausted,” he whispers. “I feel disgusting."
“You’re not disgusting — you could never be,” Shane hums back dotingly. “You’re just sick and it’s been a long day.”
“Too long,” Ilya complains.
“I agree,” Shane nods. The heat emanating off Ilya’s skin is distracting, almost dizzying this close up. “You’re burning up, you know.”
“No, you are just cold,” Ilya disagrees, his speech half-muffled as he nuzzles into Shane’s palm and itches his nose. “It’s the Canada in your blood — icy.”
Shane smirks. “If either of us is cold blooded, shouldn’t it be you? You’re the one who’s survived Russian winters.”
“Barely,” Ilya murmurs, shaking his head. “And who told you I was Russian? That does not sound like me,” he jests.
“Right; except that is exactly how you sound,” Shane smiles back charmingly. He reluctantly pulls back his hand, earning him a pout and a whimper. “Shhh,” Shane consoles, locking on to Ilya’s needy gaze, “I’m not going anywhere.”
To satiate his partner, Shane extends his arms, spreading wide then beckoning for Ilya to fall into his chest. “Come here.”
He loves the way Ilya smiles at him; his features relaxing into a soft, fond look while he gladly takes up Shane’s offer. Together the two fall into place like dominos, with Shane tentatively grasping Ilya’s shoulders and reclining him back into his lap, and Ilya trusting Shane’s touch to guide him. He really wasn’t kidding about being exhausted, Shane thinks. On any other day, Ilya would put up some sort of playful resistance, begging for Shane to make him surrender while probably making some cheeky remark, calling him captain or accusing him of being unnecessarily handsy…but tonight, he wordlessly obliges his invite to shamelessly snuggle in his lap and unite in his warmth. Head against Shane’s thigh, Ilya turns on his side, stretches and yawns, his whole body releasing a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.
“Mmm,” Ilya hums.
“What?”
“It’s nice.”
“My lap?” Shane asks. Ilya nods.
“Yes. Your thighs. They make good pillows,” he says, reaching overhead to grope and massage the flesh. “I am so used to gripping them while you ride me that I-“
“Woooow,” Shane interrupts. He scoffs despite feeling flustered, “okay.”
“What? Is a compliment,” Ilya drawls, knowing exactly what he’s doing.
“You’re such a flatterer,” Shane teases, “do perverts like yourself really not take sick days?”
Ilya hesitates, shifting his weight again so he’s on his back. He blinks up at Shane as the latter pets through his hair and wordlessly admires the hidden shades of seafoam drifting in Ilya’s eyes. Slowly, Ilya reaches up, pinching Shane’s chin and admiring him from his current angle. In his mind, he connects his freckles like constellations.
“No,” Ilya says, “and neither do boyfriends.”
Shane can't resist the smile that creeps up on him, and best of all, he doesn’t want to. He leans forward, attempting to kiss Ilya, but his partner catches him, netting his lips into the cusp of his hand.
“You will get sick,” Ilya chides, shaking his head. Shane kisses his palm, reciprocating his favor from earlier.
“I don’t mind,” Shane says.
“Yes, but I do,” Ilya confesses. “And I am not nice like you — you are whiny enough healthy; I won’t take care of you if you are sickly,” he adds, kneading at his nose with his other hand.
Shane grins, knitting kisses along Ilya’s palm lines. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” he insists.
Ilya raises an eyebrow. “And how would you know this?”
Shane lands one last kiss before retreating back so he’s sitting upright again. “I’m going to sound weird if I say.”
“Weirder than when you talk about me sneezing?”
“Fuck you,” Shane scoffs, though his words are far from unkind. While he fights his creeping embarrassment, Ilya nods at him again, urging him to continue. It’s enough encouragement for Shane to brave a deep breath.
“Okay, so this might sound crazy because it is,” he starts, “but I’ve noticed you have a tell.”
“A tell?” Ilya repeats. He blinks, looking as confused as he sounds. “What is…?”
“It’s like a quirk o-or a signal that tells you something about someone. Usually it’s a trait or habit others would consider inconspicuous, but…it’s one that I notice because,” he pauses, swallows, “because I like you; and I notice you, obviously.”
“I think you do more than notice me, obviously,” Ilya says, lips twitching into a smirk as he shifts positions again. He likes the way Shane rolls his eyes at him. “Okay, okay,” he relents, “speak.”
“Right,” Shane exhales, feeling sweat springing to his palms, “so when you lie-“
“I never do this.”
“When you lie,” Shane restarts, chuckling, “you always touch your nose. Like you do this-,” Shane removes his right hand, then demonstrates by alternating between pinching and scrubbing at his own nose, “-that sort of thing,” he sniffs.
Ilya says nothing at first. Instead, he stares at Shane, lips slightly parted around questions he doesn’t ask, and eyebrows knit together in curiosity.
“I honestly thought maybe you just had allergies or something at first,” Shane continues, “but then I realized you do it whenever you lie about something.”
The silence from Ilya sustains, serving only to make Shane feel smaller and more insecure where he sits. Finally — after what feels like years — Ilya clicks his tongue.
“What?” Shane asks.
“Nothing that is just…” Ilya trails off, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, “learning these things; it makes me realize you are…what is the word…? Ah-! Yes!”
Ilya blinks again, snapping his fingers and settling his sights back on Shane.
“Neurotic,” he cheeses. “And a pervert for my nose.”
“Oh fuck off,” Shane laughs.
“Is the right word, yes?” he chuckles back. “Because Hollander, who the fuck notices a thing like that??”
“I do, asshole!”
“Yes, but why??”
“Because-!” Shane leans his head back, no longer laughing, but still left smiling. “See this is why I didn’t want to tell you; you think it’s weird — that I’m weird!”
“I already thought this-“
“Fuuuuck you.”
“-but that’s okay,” Ilya giggles. “You know why?”
“…Why?”
Ilya toys with Shane’s ear, his thumb grazing along its edge as it turns pink. He bites his lower lip, fighting the urge to spring up, suckle it and kiss Shane all over.
“Because I enjoy weird,” Ilya murmurs, breath as hot as his attitude.
“Whatever,” Shane blushes while swatting Ilya’s hand away. Any more fondling and he was going to squirm. “You’re the one who asked, you know,” he reminds him.
“I know, I wish I hadn’t,” Ilya chuckles, absentmindedly rubbing at his nose. He catches himself mid-act, both he and Shane immediately sharing exaggerated glances. “See??” Ilya exclaims, shaking his hands like they’re cursed, “now I will think of this forever…of you forever!”
“Oh what a terrible fate~!” Shane cries. Ilya reaches up his hands, breaking Shane into a fit of faux sputtering and genuine giggles as he pretends to choke him. “I’m innocent, I swear!” Shane howls.
“That is just what everyone thinks! They don’t know you like I do, Shane Hollander,” Ilya mocks, “and you are far from innocent!”
Shane throws his head back and begs for his freedom between saccharine laughs. That laughter is like music to Ilya’s ears, and the sight of Shane’s perfect smile is a feast for his eyes; the way his lashes bat so prettily against rosy cheeks, his teeth sparkle behind those lips he loves to greet, and how his freckles dance and wiggle, just as expressive as the rest of him. The sight of his happiness was an antidote to Ilya’s aches, even if just for a moment.
“Mercy! Mercy!” Shane pleads.
Eventually, Ilya releases his lover, both hands raised in generous surrender. Shane struggles to catch his breath, his laughter dying down as he blinks slowly back at Ilya.
“You are too attentive for your own good,” Ilya says, voice low and husky, but nonetheless bemused and bewildered by Shane’s bizarre interest in him. He reaches forth and fixes Shane’s bangs, pushing them out of his eyes. “And you are crazy, you know that?”
“What, about you?” Shane asks, sounding sleepy following his smothering.
“Mmm yes about me,” Ilya confirms, “and in general. But I will add myself to the list.”
“The list?”
Ilya nods. “Of all the things that make you crazy.”
“Oh yeah? And what else do you think is on that list?” Shane asks, entertaining Ilya’s banter and watching him dreamily while he curls his golden hair around his finger.
“Mmm…hockey, ugly cars, birds, real estate, and your boring, tasteless ginger ale.”
“It’s not tasteless,” Shane giggles, infectiously smitten by Ilya’s deceptively lazy wit and proud, precious grin. “You’re just saying that because you’re used to drinking vodka. Besides, I could’ve sworn you said you were starting to like it.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s tasteful.”
“Then why do you drink it?”
“Because it is always around. That, and it tastes like you,” he smirks, “reminds me of your mouth.”
Shane can't decide whether he’s flattered or embarrassed or confused, but his expression must reflect a mix of all three because Ilya pokes his cheek and laughs.
“You’re blushing,” Ilya points out.
“Maybe,” Shane grins. “You say crazy things.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.”
“Right,” Shane rolls his eyes, “so you admit you’re also crazy?”
“Am I?” Ilya snickers. “How so?”
“I don’t know…because you like me?” Shane asks, his tone shrinking slightly. “Because you tolerate the things I notice and say, even if they’re somehow boring and crazy and weird all at the same time?”
Tolerate? How could someone so smart be so dense? Ilya thinks. He relished everything Shane noticed and said, even — no…especially when Ilya himself lacked the words to express as much.
Ilya mulls over his boyfriend’s inquiry. His mind searches for a remedy to his speechlessness, all the while his gaze remains restless; busy absorbing all the small details of Shane’s face. He memorizes the moonlit whites of his eyes to the freckles painting the bridge of his nose and smattering his cheeks like pixie dust. He fancies the cute curve of his lips, so plush and pink, and how they team up with his smile to light up the rest of his face. Shane wasn’t just beautiful…he was breathtaking, and Ilya felt lucky to bask in his glow.
But it was what lay past that perfect face that he was really attracted to. Shane’s kindness, his curiosity, and his vulnerability to ask questions Ilya could never pose, let alone answer without him. He was cautious, but he was also ridiculously brave, and that only made him shine brighter from Ilya’s perspective. For so long Ilya had only known a void of emptiness, and now he spent every day feeling blinded; eternally grateful to orbit a whole new world side by side with the light of his life — the sun newly adorning what had once been a relentlessly dark, cold, and isolated existence.
Words could never suffice nor do justice to the overwhelming feelings he had for Shane. They just bubbled up so naturally, as natural as breathing, as natural as-…!
Crying?
“Ilya…? Hey,” Shane coos as he swipes tears that have sprung from the corners of Ilya’s eyes. His expression mirrors the concern in his voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Ilya shakes his head, sniffles. Being so tired must’ve been making him emotional, but even while exhausted, he knew he could never tire of Shane’s company. It was simply impossible, even if he didn’t quite know how to say it. “I love your boring, your crazy, and your weird,” he says finally.
He blinks hard at Shane, freeing indecisive tears.
“You are too nice to me,” he whispers.
Shane swallows, taking both Ilya’s cheeks in his hands and holding him with reverence.
“I like being too nice to you,” Shane reassures, tilting Ilya’s head back and panting a kiss to his forehead. “You just hate hearing that.”
Ilya bites the inside of his cheek, then shakes his head, exhaling shakily and cupping his hands over Shane’s.
“Not when it’s from you.”
Shane’s chest melts. He smiles, then tilts his head, connecting both their noses in a silent gesture he hopes speaks to his endless adoration.
“Please let me kiss you,” he whispers.
“We shouldn’t,” Ilya whines, though it’s so obvious he wants to. “It’s not healthy; it’s to protect you.”
“But it’s torture,” Shane half-whimpers.
“Torture?” Ilya says, mirroring Shane’s smile back at him. “Is that what this is to you?”
The two share romantic stares until Shane breaks first, his smile irresistibly dreamy as the two lock hands.
“No,” he whispers. “Everything but.”
And that’s all it takes for Ilya to cave into a kiss. Lips colliding, he swears he’s seeing stars behind lidded eyes; a thousand little cosmos igniting in his chest and exploding into a dazzling fervor.
whoaaa thank you for all the love on this…you guys are too sweet! in truth I’d been sitting on this for a while, but didn’t think there’d be much interest since it’s pretty snz-lite, so I debated posting it at all. now I’m glad I did, so thank you all again! happy pride month and snz to everyone! stay cute and healthy!! (+ please go watch or read h/eated r/ivalry if you haven’t yet already!) <3 <3
Blurb: Ilya is under the weather and Shane is acutely aware of his inner forecast. Plot is spoiler-free!
Length: 3.6k words
TW: Cursing
**Please do not share to non-kink snz blogs and minors DNI! Feedback and formatting tips are always welcome <3**
“aa’HZSHH-!!”
When Ilya catches Shane staring at him out of the corner of his eyes, he inadvertently stiffens his lip and flashes a frown in his direction.
“It was a sneeze, Hollander.”
It was several, actually, Shane thinks but doesn’t say. Two when he’d entered the apartment, and four while he showered. But hey, who was counting?
Oh right. He was.
Shane sits up straighter on the couch, watching as Ilya enters the room, freshly cleaned and slightly damp following his shower. Ilya had only just returned from practice an hour ago (having gone against Shane’s wishes), and despite the obvious head cold he was battling, he’d managed to catch a ride to Shane’s, dodge his chastising, abandon his gear, shower, and change into his lounge-wear in record time.
All that was left to do was flop onto the couch, which he does with a resounding grunt and effort that has Shane nearly dropping the book in his hands. Removing his glasses, Shane gingerly places both his novel and spectacles on the coffee table beside him. Now that Ilya was here, he was the immediate center of his attention.
The minor migration from the bathroom to the couch must’ve been enough to stir something in Ilya’s sinuses, because the second his face hits the cushion he’s refurfacing with a hastened gasp. Shane can literally count down to the sneeze in his head.
One…two…three-
“aA’ZSCHH’hu!…hhy’ZZCHH-!! Fuck!”
“Bless you,” Shane chirps, adding: “again.”
“Is that all you can say now?” Ilya asks moodily.
“If all you do is sneeze, then yeah, I guess so,” Shane replies.
Ilya had been irritable all day, and it looked like this evening would be no different. Before he’d left for practice, he and Shane had gotten into an argument over whether it was really necessary he attend or not. Maybe “argument” was too strong a word, but chalking it up to a minor disagreement felt equally disingenuous.
Ilya had been stubborn as all Hell about going. On any other day Shane might’ve applauded his commitment to the sport. After all, of everyone either of them knew, it was Shane who understood just how vital it was for a captain to be present for his team. Today was different though. Shane knew Ilya wouldn't listen to reason when it came to his health, so he’d tried to convince him that if he went to practice and exacerbated his cold (or God forbid infect his whole team), his attendance would only work against him. Normally Ilya would listen to logic like that, but Shane was pretty sure he’d ignored the facts purely so he could get out of the house. Ilya didn't like to sit still for too long, and getting him to rest at all was like pulling teeth.
Deep down, Shane wasn’t angry or disappointed Ilya had gone; he was only frustrated over his flippant disregard for his own health. That, and parts of him worried that his persistent attempts at nursing Ilya had inadvertently chased him further away. He didn’t think that was the case, but the possibility bothered him. He couldn’t help it when the thought clung to him like an itch…and speaking of itch...
“hHH’ZZSHH’hu!”
Shane startles free of his own thoughts.
“Bless you,” he repeats more patiently this time. With a deliberate softness, he reaches for Ilya and pets the tops of his hair. It was his way of extending an olive branch after their earlier argument. “How was practice?”
“Fine,” Ilya grumbles. He sniffles and rubs his nose on the couch. “Fucking cold.”
“Is it getting worse?” Shane asks.
“What?”
“Your cold? Do you think it’s getting worse?”
Ilya tilts his head, squinting slightly.
“…I meant the rink, Hollander,” Ilya corrects. “The rink was cold.”
“…Oh.”
Ilya stares at his boyfriend, shaking his head while he murmurs something under his breath. He sighs, chest deflating as he sinks deeper into the cushions.
“I’m not dying, you know,” he murmurs. “You act like you’ve never heard me sneeze before.”
“Okay, but you don’t normally sneeze like that.”
Ilya immediately peeks at Shane, looking at him sideways in a way that has him feeling unusually nervous. It was like Ilya had suddenly flipped the script and Shane was now the one being studied.
“Oh? How do I usually sneeze then?” he asks.
Of all the ways he could’ve responded, Shane never would have guessed it’d be like that.
“W-Well,” Shane licks his lips, “it depends. Out on the ice, you tuck it because of the gloves. You know, sneezing into your jersey or your collar or whatever. But out in public or during your interviews, you pinch it; usually in twos. Not like when you’re alone with me.”
“Huh,” Ilya breathes, glancing Shane up and down, “and how long have you noticed this?”
“A while,” Shane admits. “Like…I don’t know; since rookie season?”
“Oh, so you were spying on me,” Ilya teases, his tone dry but gaze mischievous. “You are obsessed.”
“Fuck off,” Shane says, embarrassed but pleased to be reinstated as the subject of Ilya’s coy banter (as opposed to a reminder of his poor condition).
“You should be paparazzi,” Ilya proposes.
“And do what? Follow you around, take your picture? I do enough of that already,” Shane smirks. “Besides, you’re only saying that because you like being the center of attention.”
“Ah-ah — I like being the center of your attention,” Ilya amends. “Very important distinction. It’s where I belong; between the ice-“
Ilya inches closer via an army crawl and nudges his forehead against Shane’s thigh.
“-and you.”
Shane smiles and clicks his tongue. “Can’t argue that,” he concedes.
“Good, because I am sick of arguing with you,” Ilya sighs. “And I am actually sick.”
His confession catches Shane by surprise. “So you are sick?”
Ilya glances at Shane.
“Yes,” he answers, "aren't you the one who’s been saying it all day?”
“I guess, or I mean…” Shane swallows as he reorganizes his thoughts. He was used to Ilya speaking candidly, but not always with such honesty. He’d anticipated having to coax admission out of him, but once again, Ilya has usurped his expectations.
“I thought it was possible,” Shane says, finally. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Why didn’t you just tell me, he thinks.
Ilya shrugs with a sniff. “It’s not important.”
He says it like it’s simple, but to Shane it's anything but. It was Ilya’s reasoning that bothered him. He may not understand Russian, but after ten years, he could speak Ilya with near fluency; so he knew deep down that “it’s not important” secretly (and heartbreakingly) translated to “I’m not important”…and that hurt him almost as much as he knew it hurt Ilya.
Shane clenches his jaw and stiffens his shoulders, his body bracing against the thought as a tough, painful feeling swirls around his chest.
“It’s important to me,” Shane responds; his tone is stern and serious, but lacks defensiveness. “How long do you think you've been sick?”
“A few days,” Ilya estimates, suddenly giving Shane an odd look. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Ilya clarifies. “You seem bothered…am I bothering you?”
“What?” Shane asks, almost sounding offended by the suggestion. “No, you don’t ever bother me.”
“Then what is wrong?”
“Nothing, I-…-I just want to make sure you’re okay is all,” Shane says, swallowing again. “Are you? I mean, do you feel okay?”
Shane thought what he’d been asking was obvious, but then it occurs to him that Ilya wasn’t always used to being asked questions about himself; at least not outside his performance as an athlete (or who he was sleeping with). Asking Ilya about his health was always a tricky gamble. On one hand, it made Shane insecure. Ilya did always say he asked too many questions, and Shane could imagine why the questions he asked may feel more interrogative than intended — especially to someone so unfamiliar with being asked at all. Up until they’d met (and even years thereafter), Ilya had been reluctant to discuss any subject breaching the surface, so Shane was acutely aware this sort of attention was foreign to his boyfriend under most circumstances. He didn’t want to dismiss the progress they’d made by being too pushy.
Still, he also couldn't just ignore that something was wrong — not when it was sniffling in his face.
Thus, Shane shifts his weight on the couch and faces Ilya directly, lacing their fingers together and curling both their hands in his lap. Up close, and connected, he senses and sees a sort of hyper-vigilance shadowing Ilya’s features; an unease that he wasn’t comfortable expressing. Catching this, Shane instinctively hovers his thumb against Ilya’s knuckles, touch light and fleeting in hopes that in some way he can comfort him — remind him he’s not judging, only curious. Only caring.
Together they share the silence. Shane didn't need to repeat himself. He knew Ilya had heard him and was processing the question. The least he could do was be patient enough to await an answer.
Shane raises his other hand to cup Ilya’s cheek, which burns and flushes with fever. He tenderly brushes a stray curl out of Ilya’s icy blue eyes, then plants a kiss to where the lock lands, curtaining his face.
“You look so tired,” Shane murmurs, his touch reluctant to retreat from Ilya’s space as he moves on to stroking his beauty mark.
Ilya swallows, sniffling and allowing his eyes to fall shut while he leans into Shane’s touch. He pecks his palm, breath warm against the flesh.
“I am exhausted,” he whispers. “I feel disgusting."
“You’re not disgusting — you could never be,” Shane hums back dotingly. “You’re just sick and it’s been a long day.”
“Too long,” Ilya complains.
“I agree,” Shane nods. The heat emanating off Ilya’s skin is distracting, almost dizzying this close up. “You’re burning up, you know.”
“No, you are just cold,” Ilya disagrees, his speech half-muffled as he nuzzles into Shane’s palm and itches his nose. “It’s the Canada in your blood — icy.”
Shane smirks. “If either of us is cold blooded, shouldn’t it be you? You’re the one who’s survived Russian winters.”
“Barely,” Ilya murmurs, shaking his head. “And who told you I was Russian? That does not sound like me,” he jests.
“Right; except that is exactly how you sound,” Shane smiles back charmingly. He reluctantly pulls back his hand, earning him a pout and a whimper. “Shhh,” Shane consoles, locking on to Ilya’s needy gaze, “I’m not going anywhere.”
To satiate his partner, Shane extends his arms, spreading wide then beckoning for Ilya to fall into his chest. “Come here.”
He loves the way Ilya smiles at him; his features relaxing into a soft, fond look while he gladly takes up Shane’s offer. Together the two fall into place like dominos, with Shane tentatively grasping Ilya’s shoulders and reclining him back into his lap, and Ilya trusting Shane’s touch to guide him. He really wasn’t kidding about being exhausted, Shane thinks. On any other day, Ilya would put up some sort of playful resistance, begging for Shane to make him surrender while probably making some cheeky remark, calling him captain or accusing him of being unnecessarily handsy…but tonight, he wordlessly obliges his invite to shamelessly snuggle in his lap and unite in his warmth. Head against Shane’s thigh, Ilya turns on his side, stretches and yawns, his whole body releasing a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.
“Mmm,” Ilya hums.
“What?”
“It’s nice.”
“My lap?” Shane asks. Ilya nods.
“Yes. Your thighs. They make good pillows,” he says, reaching overhead to grope and massage the flesh. “I am so used to gripping them while you ride me that I-“
“Woooow,” Shane interrupts. He scoffs despite feeling flustered, “okay.”
“What? Is a compliment,” Ilya drawls, knowing exactly what he’s doing.
“You’re such a flatterer,” Shane teases, “do perverts like yourself really not take sick days?”
Ilya hesitates, shifting his weight again so he’s on his back. He blinks up at Shane as the latter pets through his hair and wordlessly admires the hidden shades of seafoam drifting in Ilya’s eyes. Slowly, Ilya reaches up, pinching Shane’s chin and admiring him from his current angle. In his mind, he connects his freckles like constellations.
“No,” Ilya says, “and neither do boyfriends.”
Shane can't resist the smile that creeps up on him, and best of all, he doesn’t want to. He leans forward, attempting to kiss Ilya, but his partner catches him, netting his lips into the cusp of his hand.
“You will get sick,” Ilya chides, shaking his head. Shane kisses his palm, reciprocating his favor from earlier.
“I don’t mind,” Shane says.
“Yes, but I do,” Ilya confesses. “And I am not nice like you — you are whiny enough healthy; I won’t take care of you if you are sickly,” he adds, kneading at his nose with his other hand.
Shane grins, knitting kisses along Ilya’s palm lines. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” he insists.
Ilya raises an eyebrow. “And how would you know this?”
Shane lands one last kiss before retreating back so he’s sitting upright again. “I’m going to sound weird if I say.”
“Weirder than when you talk about me sneezing?”
“Fuck you,” Shane scoffs, though his words are far from unkind. While he fights his creeping embarrassment, Ilya nods at him again, urging him to continue. It’s enough encouragement for Shane to brave a deep breath.
“Okay, so this might sound crazy because it is,” he starts, “but I’ve noticed you have a tell.”
“A tell?” Ilya repeats. He blinks, looking as confused as he sounds. “What is…?”
“It’s like a quirk o-or a signal that tells you something about someone. Usually it’s a trait or habit others would consider inconspicuous, but…it’s one that I notice because,” he pauses, swallows, “because I like you; and I notice you, obviously.”
“I think you do more than notice me, obviously,” Ilya says, lips twitching into a smirk as he shifts positions again. He likes the way Shane rolls his eyes at him. “Okay, okay,” he relents, “speak.”
“Right,” Shane exhales, feeling sweat springing to his palms, “so when you lie-“
“I never do this.”
“When you lie,” Shane restarts, chuckling, “you always touch your nose. Like you do this-,” Shane removes his right hand, then demonstrates by alternating between pinching and scrubbing at his own nose, “-that sort of thing,” he sniffs.
Ilya says nothing at first. Instead, he stares at Shane, lips slightly parted around questions he doesn’t ask, and eyebrows knit together in curiosity.
“I honestly thought maybe you just had allergies or something at first,” Shane continues, “but then I realized you do it whenever you lie about something.”
The silence from Ilya sustains, serving only to make Shane feel smaller and more insecure where he sits. Finally — after what feels like years — Ilya clicks his tongue.
“What?” Shane asks.
“Nothing that is just…” Ilya trails off, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, “learning these things; it makes me realize you are…what is the word…? Ah-! Yes!”
Ilya blinks again, snapping his fingers and settling his sights back on Shane.
“Neurotic,” he cheeses. “And a pervert for my nose.”
“Oh fuck off,” Shane laughs.
“Is the right word, yes?” he chuckles back. “Because Hollander, who the fuck notices a thing like that??”
“I do, asshole!”
“Yes, but why??”
“Because-!” Shane leans his head back, no longer laughing, but still left smiling. “See this is why I didn’t want to tell you; you think it’s weird — that I’m weird!”
“I already thought this-“
“Fuuuuck you.”
“-but that’s okay,” Ilya giggles. “You know why?”
“…Why?”
Ilya toys with Shane’s ear, his thumb grazing along its edge as it turns pink. He bites his lower lip, fighting the urge to spring up, suckle it and kiss Shane all over.
“Because I enjoy weird,” Ilya murmurs, breath as hot as his attitude.
“Whatever,” Shane blushes while swatting Ilya’s hand away. Any more fondling and he was going to squirm. “You’re the one who asked, you know,” he reminds him.
“I know, I wish I hadn’t,” Ilya chuckles, absentmindedly rubbing at his nose. He catches himself mid-act, both he and Shane immediately sharing exaggerated glances. “See??” Ilya exclaims, shaking his hands like they’re cursed, “now I will think of this forever…of you forever!”
“Oh what a terrible fate~!” Shane cries. Ilya reaches up his hands, breaking Shane into a fit of faux sputtering and genuine giggles as he pretends to choke him. “I’m innocent, I swear!” Shane howls.
“That is just what everyone thinks! They don’t know you like I do, Shane Hollander,” Ilya mocks, “and you are far from innocent!”
Shane throws his head back and begs for his freedom between saccharine laughs. That laughter is like music to Ilya’s ears, and the sight of Shane’s perfect smile is a feast for his eyes; the way his lashes bat so prettily against rosy cheeks, his teeth sparkle behind those lips he loves to greet, and how his freckles dance and wiggle, just as expressive as the rest of him. The sight of his happiness was an antidote to Ilya’s aches, even if just for a moment.
“Mercy! Mercy!” Shane pleads.
Eventually, Ilya releases his lover, both hands raised in generous surrender. Shane struggles to catch his breath, his laughter dying down as he blinks slowly back at Ilya.
“You are too attentive for your own good,” Ilya says, voice low and husky, but nonetheless bemused and bewildered by Shane’s bizarre interest in him. He reaches forth and fixes Shane’s bangs, pushing them out of his eyes. “And you are crazy, you know that?”
“What, about you?” Shane asks, sounding sleepy following his smothering.
“Mmm yes about me,” Ilya confirms, “and in general. But I will add myself to the list.”
“The list?”
Ilya nods. “Of all the things that make you crazy.”
“Oh yeah? And what else do you think is on that list?” Shane asks, entertaining Ilya’s banter and watching him dreamily while he curls his golden hair around his finger.
“Mmm…hockey, ugly cars, birds, real estate, and your boring, tasteless ginger ale.”
“It’s not tasteless,” Shane giggles, infectiously smitten by Ilya’s deceptively lazy wit and proud, precious grin. “You’re just saying that because you’re used to drinking vodka. Besides, I could’ve sworn you said you were starting to like it.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s tasteful.”
“Then why do you drink it?”
“Because it is always around. That, and it tastes like you,” he smirks, “reminds me of your mouth.”
Shane can't decide whether he’s flattered or embarrassed or confused, but his expression must reflect a mix of all three because Ilya pokes his cheek and laughs.
“You’re blushing,” Ilya points out.
“Maybe,” Shane grins. “You say crazy things.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.”
“Right,” Shane rolls his eyes, “so you admit you’re also crazy?”
“Am I?” Ilya snickers. “How so?”
“I don’t know…because you like me?” Shane asks, his tone shrinking slightly. “Because you tolerate the things I notice and say, even if they’re somehow boring and crazy and weird all at the same time?”
Tolerate? How could someone so smart be so dense? Ilya thinks. He relished everything Shane noticed and said, even — no…especially when Ilya himself lacked the words to express as much.
Ilya mulls over his boyfriend’s inquiry. His mind searches for a remedy to his speechlessness, all the while his gaze remains restless; busy absorbing all the small details of Shane’s face. He memorizes the moonlit whites of his eyes to the freckles painting the bridge of his nose and smattering his cheeks like pixie dust. He fancies the cute curve of his lips, so plush and pink, and how they team up with his smile to light up the rest of his face. Shane wasn’t just beautiful…he was breathtaking, and Ilya felt lucky to bask in his glow.
But it was what lay past that perfect face that he was really attracted to. Shane’s kindness, his curiosity, and his vulnerability to ask questions Ilya could never pose, let alone answer without him. He was cautious, but he was also ridiculously brave, and that only made him shine brighter from Ilya’s perspective. For so long Ilya had only known a void of emptiness, and now he spent every day feeling blinded; eternally grateful to orbit a whole new world side by side with the light of his life — the sun newly adorning what had once been a relentlessly dark, cold, and isolated existence.
Words could never suffice nor do justice to the overwhelming feelings he had for Shane. They just bubbled up so naturally, as natural as breathing, as natural as-…!
Crying?
“Ilya…? Hey,” Shane coos as he swipes tears that have sprung from the corners of Ilya’s eyes. His expression mirrors the concern in his voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Ilya shakes his head, sniffles. Being so tired must’ve been making him emotional, but even while exhausted, he knew he could never tire of Shane’s company. It was simply impossible, even if he didn’t quite know how to say it. “I love your boring, your crazy, and your weird,” he says finally.
He blinks hard at Shane, freeing indecisive tears.
“You are too nice to me,” he whispers.
Shane swallows, taking both Ilya’s cheeks in his hands and holding him with reverence.
“I like being too nice to you,” Shane reassures, tilting Ilya’s head back and planting a kiss to his forehead. “You just hate hearing that.”
Ilya bites the inside of his cheek, then shakes his head, exhaling shakily and cupping his hands over Shane’s.
“Not when it’s from you.”
Shane’s chest melts. He smiles, then tilts his head, connecting both their noses in a silent gesture he hopes speaks to his endless adoration.
“Please let me kiss you,” he whispers.
“We shouldn’t,” Ilya whines, though it’s so obvious he wants to. “It’s not healthy; it’s to protect you.”
“But it’s torture,” Shane half-whimpers.
“Torture?” Ilya says, mirroring Shane’s smile back at him. “Is that what this is to you?”
The two share romantic stares until Shane breaks first, his smile irresistibly dreamy as the two lock hands.
“No,” he whispers. “Everything but.”
And that’s all it takes for Ilya to cave into a kiss. Lips colliding, he swears he’s seeing stars behind lidded eyes; a thousand little cosmos igniting in his chest and exploding into a dazzling fervor.
Oooh, a few people have definitely done hcs for some of the characters, but I’m unfortunately blanking on who made those posts rn. Two recs off the top of my head though:
@sherbet-shivers has a long snzfic that’s Sooo Goddamn Good if you like Robe/rt and/or another guy whom I’m not sure if you’ve seen yet depending on just how early in the game you are, but he shows up super early iirc
Also this Robe/rt art by @peachsnz which is !!!!!! Oh my goddd dude!!! 🥰🥰🥰
Hey guess what… I have another commission done! Thank you so so much to @opposedsnz for commissioning me! I have no idea who this character is except his name but I like him! DM me if you’d like to commission! Thank you so much you guys. More to come soon ..;)
when a character is too cute and damp and pathetic, i take physical damage. like it hurts so good when they’re wet and miserable and dripping. i’m gonna fuckjng bite them in half
my friend recently got me into Star Trek and omg I’m so Spock x Kirk pilled rn. actual travesty that I am so many years late to the party because those two are old man yaoi trope originators istg.
(if by some chance anyone has snz-related headcanons or fic recommendations I’m very much inviting you to share) <3 <3
