#etiquette: canes

[glossahistorica]

"Morning Calls." - Hats, gloves, accessories and their wearing or leaving, for men.

 A gentleman, when calling, as a matter of course, takes his hat in his hand with him into the drawing-room, and holds it until he has seen the mistress of the house, and shaken hands with her. He would either then place his hat on a chair or table near at hand or hold it until he took his leave, according as to whether he felt at ease or the reverse.  He would not put his hat on until in the hall; as, in the house, a gentleman never puts on his hat in the presence of its mistress.  To leave his hat in the hall would be considered a liberty, and in very bad taste; only the members of a family residing in the same house would leave their hats in the hall, or enter the drawing-room without their hats in their hands. The fact of hanging up the hat in the hall proves that the owner of the hat is at home there.  At "at homes," small five o'clock teas, luncheons, dinners, &c., the rule is reversed, and hats are left in the hall by invited guests; the invitation constituting the difference. A gentleman would take his stick with him into the drawing room, or a small umbrella, if it answered the purpose of a stick.  When gentlemen wear gloves, which in the country they seldom or never do, except when driving, and in town almost as seldom, they would draw off the right hand glove at least before entering the drawing-room; but if they preferred to remain gloved—although it is not so courteous to do so—they need offer no apology when shaking hands with the lady, or allude to their gloves in any way.

Manners and Tone of Good Society; or Solecisms to be Avoided, A Member of the Aristocracy, c.1886 (13th edition) [x] (Paragraphing added.)

Please note that this advice accords with the late part of the century, and social mores with regards to the frequency of glove wearing among men changed significantly over the period; ie. men of earlier decades wore gloves more often, and likewise following.

Also worth bearing in mind, the etiquette may have been modified for Jewish men. Yarmulke/kippah-wearing customs varied widely in the 19th century (see this great page for more) and many Jews, particularly in the emerging reform movement, seem to have not worn kippot at all, or only for religious services, but for those who did wear them, the kippot of the time were often larger than the skull-caps of today, and were not easily kept underneath a hat. According to illustrations and accounts of the time, Jewish men in Britain typically wore their top hats indoors to synagogue services.

A flow-chart for your hat quandaries follows.

[deoidesign]

you made an art guide for canes right? do you have any info for drawing crutches too?

nope, I don't use crutches! I think a few people in the notes of the cane post might have chimed in with their experiences, and some people might know of a post or offer their experience in the replies here if you're lucky!

But I suggest, in this order:

Looking into online stores for crutches and crutch accessories to learn about the varieties

Reading/watching medical resources for using the different types of crutches from physical therapists so you understand how they work and what they help with

and then finally looking to see if you can find community resources, tags, and posts from actual crutch users to do more research about lived experiences and actual use cases

The medical and store research up front will give you a solid baseline understanding of the many varieties of crutches and how they work, which is necessary information to have the proper language and knowledge so you can actually learn from real people what their experiences are truly like.

Good luck! Sorry I can't be more help.

[reedbstranger]

Starting in theater spaces and classical music spaces means concert discourse is so wild to me. Like why tf are so many people pulling out the pitchforks about bands and artists banning phones?? Going from “is bootlegging ethical” discourse to “NOT ALLOWING PHONES IS ABLEISM CLASSISM AND GOING TO KILL THE FANDOM” is such whiplash

[writtenfangirl]

Madness

I wrote this so long ago and then abandoned it because I didn’t know if the ending was satisfactory or not. I thought it would have a greater plot as well but when I couldn’t find it, I was dissatisfied until I reread it and realized the prose was too good not to publish.

Fluff but also a little bit of angst if you squint hard enough.

In which Benedict Bridgerton finally reveals the truth.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful, if Benedict was being perfectly honest with himself. Not the kind of beauty that had him picking up a paint brush and painstakingly striking an easel with lovely swirls of color but the kind of beauty that distracted him, made him brood in a dim corner of the room, watching the little twists of her mouth and the subtle way she arched a brow. Beauty to the point of distraction, like spending hours watching shooting stars dash across the night sky, not realizing as dawn approached on the horizon.

It was utterly maddening.

She was utterly maddening.

How was he meant to live, to exist and breathe, to witness such great beauty and yet have none of the capacity, the right, to keep it?

Just a glance from her, a single curve of her lips, and Benedict could feel his faith in God strengthening as easily as he could deny the Lord’s existence. Only a benevolent God could create such ecstatic beauty and yet no benevolent God could exist in this world if Benedict had to bear the cruelty of Y/N’s indifference.

Maddening.

He sighed, the sound bereft as he continued to watch her charm the eligible men of the ton. She had a veritable cabal of men gathered around her and if any other debutant had been in her position, they surely would have been overwhelmed by now.

But not Y/N.

Never Y/N.

With her head held high and her smile demure, she directed the men as easily as if she was holding court. A slight clearing of the throat and already, someone had a glass of lemonade in their hand while a flap of her hand would have the men falling over themselves in an attempt to get her a chair.

A queen holding court, indeed.

Benedict rolled his eyes at the man to her right, who practically shoved at the man on his left in order to catch Y/N’s attention. Not that it really mattered though, especially not when Y/N’s attention was focused on Benedict.

Even from across the room, the tension between them felt palpable. Exhilarating. It always had been with Y/N. Thick and smooth, the connection between them as tangible as their own beating hearts. Just a shared look between them and the world fell silent, the edges of his vision practically darkening at the edges until he saw only her.

Beautiful. Even as her face contorted with hurt for the briefest of seconds, her eyes pulling away from him and returning to the crowd of men that surrounded her.

Benedict gritted his teeth, the only sign of annoyance he let himself show.

“I see you are not quite so enamored with our diamond.”

Benedict’s head whipped to the left, finding Lady Danbury watching him with those shrewd eyes of hers. The old crone had her cane gripped tightly in her hands and Benedict fought his grimace at the phantom pain that shot up from his ankles. The dowager countess had a terrible habit of whacking gentlemen she didn’t like with that sturdy cane of hers and Benedict had felt the brunt of that pain far too many times for his liking.

Still, as a gentleman, he couldn’t very well ignore the woman. It would have been terribly rude of him to and it went against every fiber of the etiquette that had been drilled to him as a child.

He spared Y/N another glance before he spoke. “You think all those men enamored with her?”

“I think they think themselves enamored by her,” Lady Danbury said. “She is quite a beauty and accomplished too, I hear. Are you acquainted with the young lady?”

He had been, when he was young. As recently as a few months ago, Benedict had counted Y/N as one of his dearest friends but with everything that transpired between them…

“We are familiar with one another.”

Lady Danbury arched a brow, directing her attention back to Y/N. She was animatedly speaking with Anthony and Colin, the only time the entire evening where her smile didn’t seem a little bit forced. “Your brothers seem friendly with her. Why aren’t you?”

Because he was a stupid, bloody, idiot who didn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut, that’s why.

But his pride would never let him say that, especially not in front of Lady Danbury. “We are familiar with each other.” He repeated, voice tight.

Lady Danbury’s eyes flickered. “I seem to recall your mother telling me about how you and the Lady Y/N were thick as thieves not so long ago.”

Bloody hell, the old crone was relentless. He didn’t want to talk about his and Y/N’s falling out, especially not with her.

He suddenly whirled, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, I believe I hear someone calling me.”

No one was calling him but not even his impeccable manners could make him stay.

Lady Danbury harrumphed. “I may be old, boy, but I am not deaf.”

“Definitely hear someone calling me.” Benedict even cupped a hand, placing it on the side of his mouth before he yelled a quick, “I’ll be right there!” He turned back to Lady Danbury, who was looking at him as if she knew his claims were a lie. “Lady Danbury, if you’ll excuse me.”

The dowager countess simply gave Benedict a knowing look yet let him go.

He ducked into the crowd towards… bloody hell he couldn’t find anyone he would rather talk to. His brothers were still off speaking with Y/N and he didn’t feel like speaking with his mother, who would likely hound him about his fight with Y/N. Which left the last person of their party, Eloise. A quick scan of the room revealed his sister in the other side of the room, conspiratorially whispering to her best friend, Penelope Featherington.

He zoomed towards them, turning his back on Y/N and Lady Danbury.

Eloise caught his eye as he approached and her lips pursed in displeasure. “Why do you look as if you’re expecting me to bail you out of a horrible situation.”

“Can’t I see my favorite sister with joy in my face without being suspected of ill intent?”Benedict said with a grin before bowing to Penelope, who returned the gesture with her own curtsy.

Penelope ducked her head to suppress a giggle.

Eloise rolled her eyes at him. “What do you want?”

“To ask you why you’re sulking in a corner instead of dancing despite—“ he pulled at the dance card in her wrist, every single line filled with names that were unfamiliar to him. “Did you put fake names in your dance card?”

Eloise snatched her wrist back. “Yes. I thought that with Y/N grabbing the attention of so many of the gentlemen, I would be spared the embarrassment of having to entertain any gentlemen tonight. Unfortunately, I was wrong.”

Benedict turned to Penelope. “How many approached her?”

“Six,” Penelope smirked, “and those six quickly turned right back around.”

“Well with a full dance card, I’m not at all surprised.”

Eloise rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Spare me the lecture, brother. I’m sure I’ll hear enough from mother tonight.”

“She caught you?”

“After Eloise turned down the sixth one, Lady Violet began to suspect,” Penelope explained.

Benedict grinned. “When have you known me to lecture you?”

She gave him a saccharine smile, the kind that Benedict always knew would end with her barbed words. “Aren’t you meant to be fawning over Y/N? You’d done it most of our life.”

He bristled at her words.

Penelope shot them a curious look. “You never told me you were acquainted with the lady?”

“Hadn’t I?” Eloise frowned. “Lady Y/L/N’s family and ours have been acquainted for ages. Of course, she rarely ever came to London and if it hadn’t been for her father’s recent passing she wouldn’t have had a season at all. Mama had held hope that perhaps one of my dear brothers would begin to take some responsibility and marry her.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper that was so loud, it still reached Benedict’s ears. “Personally, I always thought Benedict would offer. He and Y/N had a special bond growing up. Even Daphne thinks so.”

Benedict had never hit a woman before but perhaps, just this once, excuses could be made for one’s sisters.

“So, well acquainted then,” Penelope said with a slight smile.

“I do recall Benedict pining after Y/N for years,” Eloise mused, uncaring as Benedict’s mood soured. “You never did tell me why it is you suddenly became estranged”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” He grumbled.

Eloise batted eyes innocently. “Irritable today, aren’t you, brother? Could it possibly be because of the cadre of men that hound every one of Y/N’s footsteps?”

“I have changed my mind. Francesca is now my favorite sister.”

“I love you too, Benedict,” she all but grinned.

He turned his attention back to Y/N, who, to his surprise, had taken her leave.

“She’s in the garden, if you wish to speak to her,” Eloise said, noting his wandering eyes and nodding towards the open veranda at the side.

“What gave you the impression that I would like to speak to her?” He tried to do his best nonchalant impression but not even Benedict was convinced of his own performance.

Eloise simply rolled her eyes at him before tugging Penelope’s arm. “With Y/N taking her respite, I imagine there will be a sudden influx of gentlemen who would like to dance. Let us make ourselves scarce.” And she pulled Penelope along, the red head offering Benedict an apologetic look.

He glanced at the crowd once again before letting his feet carry him through the veranda and out towards the garden. There were still many people milling about outside that granted them protection from scandal but it was much more intimate than the loud din of the ballroom.

The night was cool, the spring air serene compared to the humidity of the ballroom.

He spied Y/N, her back turned against the door. Upon hearing his approach, she sighed. “Good sir, if you did not understand me, I wish to be al—“ she turned and her words died at her lips at the sight of him. “Oh. It’s you.”

She looked even lovelier up close. She always did. Whether dressed in a simple frock with her long hair flowing down her back or dressed ornately with jewels adorning her, she always looked lovelier up close.

“What do you want, Benedict,” Y/N said, dropping that societal mask she employed inside.

“To apologize.”

She shook her head. “There is nothing to apologize for. You asked for my hand under false pretenses, I rejected you. End of story.“

“Under false pretenses?” He echoed, his own tone turning sharp. “You think my proposal to be insincere? Is that why you rejected me?”

“I did not think it insincere, I knew it to be insincere. I heard you and the Lady Violet discussing me. I heard when you declared your intention to ask for my hand in marriage simply because she had asked you to.”

Oh.

Oh.

He remembered then, the conversation he had with his mother right before he proposed.

“Propose to her,” Violet had urged just as breakfast had been served, with only Benedict and Violet dining.

“I am not even courting her, mama,” he replied exasperatedly. It had been far too early in the morning to entertain his mother’s insistence on seeing him wed to Y/N. She’d pestered him about it in one form or another even before the Y/L/Ns had come to visit the Bridgertons and Benedict knew she would not stop until he and Y/N were formally engaged.

But Y/N had just ended her mourning period for her father. And though societal mandates dictated that it was perfectly reasonable for Benedict to ask for her hand in marriage, he knew how deeply she mourned the man, especially since his death had placed her in such a precarious position. The late patriarch of the Y/L/N family had been fond of his only child, even if she had been born a girl. And Y/N had loved him, even if his death left her and her mother saddled with financial debt despite coming from the longest line of barony in England.

“What does it matter that you are not courting?” Violet demanded. “You have known her since you were both children. You’ve been courting her all your life.”

“Mama, please leave it well enough alone.”

“What is it that you do not like about her?” She insisted. “She is beautiful and accomplished and you have known each other your whole lives. Any young man would be fortunate to be bound to her in marriage.”

“I never said anything that would imply otherwise.”

“Then why do you refuse to ask her for her hand in marriage? Doing so would spare her a season in London and limit their financial troubles.” And then she had gasped in indignation. “Or is their financial troubles the very reason why you refuse? I never raised you to be avaricious!”

Bloody hell. “I am not avaricious, mother. I do not care about her dowry or lack thereof!”

“Then what is it? Do not tell me it is because you do not love her. I have seen the way you look at her.”

Benedict had eyed his fork, had wondered if perhaps, it would be a better to shove it in his ears than listen to his mother’s hullabaloo.

Instead he took a scone, spreading a generous layer of clotted cream and jam so his hands had something to do rather than maim himself.

“And how is it I look at her, mother?” He drawled.

“The same way your father used to look at me.”

At that he had paused, scone half-raised to his mouth. He hadn’t known what to say anymore. Mentions of his own father had always been capable of silencing his mind.

Finally, he had decided on telling her the truth, that his mother may finally stop pestering him.

“Asking Y/N for her hand in marriage had always been the plan, mother,” Benedict relented. “I was simply waiting for the perfect moment.”

Violet smiled at her son kindly. “There are no such thing as perfect moments, dearest. Only moments that can be made perfect. And whether you ask her later or tomorrow or next week, that moment will be perfect by virtue of you asking.”

She was right, of course. Violet Bridgerton was so rarely incorrect especially in matters of the heart and love.

Benedict had given her a smile, and said, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Well, since you so graciously asked me to, I shall propose to the Lady Y/N, if only to make you happy.”

That must have been what Y/N heard. Not the whole story but the end, when Benedict had teased his mother.

Now he was convinced that God existed and that he must be cruel. Only the machinations of a cruel God could have lined up the timing perfectly.

Y/N’s eyes flickered as she regarded him. “I do not wish to bind you in marriage with someone you do not hold any affection for. You have fulfilled your promise to your mother and have asked for my hand. I rejected you. We no longer have any obligations with one another. Good night.” She made a move to pass him, to walk back to the ballroom to her gaggle of men but Benedict’s hand shot up, gripping her arm and keeping her to him.

His hands were gloved and even Y/N’s arms were sheathed in silk. And though he had never felt gloves to be particularly offensive, he wished to burn the ones that covered their hands. If only so he could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers.

The heady scent of her perfume wafted through his senses. She smelled divine, like walking through a garden of roses under the cover of moonlight as the stars twinkled above his head. Utterly mouthwatering, and capable of driving even the sanest of men into insanity. The scent of distraction.

Always so distracting.

Benedict forced his mouth to speak before his brain could forget the words he needed to say. “Do you think so little of me? Capable of such cruelty especially when it comes to you.”

Y/N’s brows met, a flash of pain in her eyes and then it was gone. “It is the opposite, really. I think the world of you, Benedict. Only a gentleman would offer to marry a girl he has no obligations to simply because of her precarious position in life. You are an honorable man and any woman would be lucky to call you their husband. It is why I cannot accept your proposal, not when you do not love me. Not when there is no one on this world more deserving of love than you.”

Benedict frowned at her. “Why do you continue to insist that I do not love you?”

“Because you do not!” She pulled away from him, wrenching her hand from his grasp. Her eyes were pure anguish as she looked at him and the very sight of her pain had him staggering back. “If you truly held any affection for me, I would know. I have studied you all our lives, Benedict. And in all the time we shared together, you had never shown any affection for me beyond that of a friend. Your proposal hurt, Benedict. I have loved you in every way a man could be loved for so long and for you to ask for my hand in marriage out of pity—“ She choked, eyes widening as if she didn’t mean to say the things she’d said.

“You love me?” He echoed, heart beating quickly in his chest. He wondered, briefly, if his fast beating heart marks the day he really lived. If Y/N’s confession had been the reason he truly felt alive for the first time in his life.

Her face crumpled in pain as she stepped back. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said those things. Please take your leave, Benedict. That I may salvage whatever scraps of my dignity is left.”

But Benedict did no such thing.

Instead he took her hands and lowered himself into a kneel, setting his eyes upon her. The arching light of the manor spilled over the veranda casted her in a soft glow that took his very breath away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in alarm and whatever pain she held there was washed away by her surprise. “Benedict, what are you doing?”

“Begging you for forgiveness.”

“What? Benedict, get up.”

But he held firm, his determination cementing his knees to the ground. “Forgive me, Y/N, for my grave transgressions against you. That you had ever lived your life doubting my affections for you, or wondering if I cared for you as more than a friend are sins I will carry with me to my last breath. It will be my great shame that I had not made it abundantly clear that I love you. Because I do love you. Most ardently.”

“Benedict, get up. This is madness—“

“You are right. It is madness. The way I feel for you would drive the sanest of people into lunacy. But if loving you is madness then I don’t ever wish to be sane.”

Her eyes gleamed silver with unshed tears that threatened to fall from her pretty eyes. “B-But that morning, the day you proposed—“

“I did not propose to you out of pity for you, I did it out of pity for me. I needed to put myself out of my misery and finally marry the only girl I ever had the privilege of falling in love with rather than continue pining after you in secret.”

She let out a a laugh through her tears, the sound like bells chiming during a storm. Light and beautiful despite the pouring rain that threatened to drown it out. “Ask me again.”

His heart leapt to his throat, pounding so quickly he struggled to get the words out. But they came nonetheless, the words clear and betraying none of his anxiety. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

[evielmostdefinitely]

Just read Cold Tonight! It was AMAZING pls do a (kinda) part 2 about the time she yelled @ him at the university? I know it was only a small part but I would love a fic about it! Thanks! Your an amazing writer

jealous girl |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: your jealousy leads to you causing a scene at university. coriolanus has to correct you. a/n thank you!! i'm so glad you enjoyed cold tonight and hope you enjoy this!

contains: smut 18+. dom/sub themes (consensual). dark, possessive but in love snow. jealous!reader. manhandling. degrading-ish??? spanking with implements (cane).

Coriolanus knew the flush of his cheeks matched the red of his uniform, that familiar burn searing through his veins. Embarrassment? Fury? He wasn’t entirely sure. 

“Can you wait for a moment?” Corio tried to keep his tone light, tracking you without running. It was embarrassing enough, your little tantrum. Storming out of the library in a fit, huffing and puffing petulantly down the stairs. Coriolanus was mortified, biting his tongue to keep it from lashing at you in public, causing an even bigger scene. 

“Darling, please,” Corio hissed, chin ducking, avoiding the wandering gazes of passersby. “Please calm down and act rationally.” 

“Rationally?” You halted, whipping around with a look so dangerous and threatening, it made him flinch. “You want me to respond rationally to that?” You threw your hand out, a woman possessed, blinded by fury. All education, etiquette casted outward at the glimpse of him in the library. Clemesia’s hand on his arm, leaning in flirtatiously. 

“Lower your tone.” Coriolanus hissed, eyes cutting around him. Peers and instructors glancing over at the two of them. Snow and Duke, the couple that already had enough eyes watching, now with even more, putting on a show. 

“I told you it wasn’t like that-” 

“-Oh, save me the lies, Coriolanus.” You huff, waving your hand dramatically. He flinched at the use of his full name. You never called him that, not unless you were truly furious. “She was all over you.” 

“We’re study partners, sweetheart.” Corio gritted, pulling you closer to him, hand squeezing your bicep in warning. “We were just studying.” 

“Oh? Then you’ve studied with me in a very similar manner, haven’t you?” You sneered, eyes narrowing in challenge. 

Coriolanus wasn’t sure if he could flush any deeper red, burning even more with embarrassment at the alluded comment to your sex life. The girls passing giggled, covering their mouths with their hands, eyes cutting back at the two of you. 

“How dare you.” Corio snapped, pulling you roughly into him. He continued his steps towards the door, his hand holding you close even as you struggled. “Can you try and have a little decorum? Some manners? Or have you lost your mind entirely?” 

“Have I lost my mind?” You gaped, digging your heels and coming to a complete stop, yanking his grip off your arm. Coriolanus cringed, the few bystanders turning. “You’re asking me if I’ve lost my mind? Have you lost yours?” 

Coriolanus hissed your name under his breath, reaching back for you. You smacked his hand away. “Let's go.” He hissed. “You’re causing a scene. You’re embarrassing me.” 

“Embarrassing you? I’ll show you embarrassing, Coriolanus Snow, because you have embarrassed me!” Your voice rang through the tall ceiling, bouncing off the marbled floors. The building seemed to settle into complete silence, and Corio thought he might pass out from pure embarrassment. 

Your eyes were wild, furious, chest heaving with rage. Corio knew the Peacekeepers outside wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you, not without your father having each of them tortured. Still, Coriolanus grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the building, head tucked in shame at the snickering laughter that floated out after him. 

***

“You embarrassed me-” 

“-I embarrassed you? You embarrassed me, you bastard!” You roared over him, pacing in the small living room of your penthouse. 

“I told you we are just study partners!” Coriolanus roared back, teeth bared in a nearly animalistic way. The embarrassment had fizzled into fury. 

“Oh, it really looked like study partners.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “She was all over you! What if I did that, hm?” 

“Stop it.” Corio growled. 

“What if I went out with my ‘study partner’ and let him touch all over me, or touched all over him? What would you think then?” You sneered, challengingly. “It would be alright, right? Because we’re just study partners, so he can touch me anyway he wants-” 

Coriolanus felt it coming, the snap. His composure busting, nerves fried, and sanity on the brink of dissolve. His hands found your shoulders, pinning you roughly against the couch, hovering over top of you with a wild-eyed glare that had you gasping in surprise. 

“If you ever let another man touch you, I would cut his fucking hands off on the steps of the Capitol Building for everyone to see.” Corio hissed, eyes dark, teeth gritted. 

You gaped, heart hammering in surprise, maybe fear. “And don’t you ever accuse me of looking at someone else, do you hear me? Don’t you dare speak so lowly of me. Disrespect me in that way. Insulting me, thinking I’d ever give a damn about Clemensia.” Corio spat, face twisting in a soured expression. 

You shuddered, your own eyes wide watching him, still under his pinned grip. “I have and only will love you. My heart belongs to you, my soul belongs to you. You have every piece of me, and you dare insinuate I would give a part of me to someone else? There’s nothing left to give even if I wanted to. You have it all.” 

Your lip wobbled, tears brimming your vision at the passion of his words. Your own anger and frustration dwindling, squirming under the bruising grip of his fingertips in your shoulders. “And to ever think I would entertain the thought of someone else.” Coriolanus' nose snarled in disgust. “To cause a scene like that? Embarrass me and yourself over your own blind jealousy? Over your own insecurities? Throwing a fit like a child.” 

Your lip wobbled, cheeks flushing furiously with embarrassment at your actions, suddenly very aware of how public they were. 

“I won’t stand for it.” Coriolanus shook his head firmly. 

“Corio,” You whisper, words strangled in your throat, nose burning with tears of embarrassment. “I-I just-” 

“-Don’t you dare try to excuse your actions.” Corio snapped fiercely, but his grip loosened. “You embarrassed me.” 

Your eyes casted downwards, looking at the rose pinned to his shirt. You couldn’t meet his eyes, not when they chastised you, made you feel so small. 

“I should take you back there. Punish you in front of everyone so they know I’m not weak.” Coriolanus sneered. “So they know that I don’t allow my girl to act in such an ill mannered way. So hysterical and crazed, you should be ashamed.” 

Your lip wobbled, swallowing the thick tears building in your throat. “I’m sorry, Corio. I just-I thought you-” 

“-You should know better.” Coriolanus shook his head, releasing you from his grip, sitting back so he hovered over you. “I’ve taught you better than this. I know I have.” 

Your spine tingled with an icy chill, the lingering threat in his tone, lips set in a displeased snarl. “I thought you were finally learning. Finally better. Clearly, you still need to learn.” 

“No,” It sounded far too whiny for your own liking, further proving Corio’s point. “Corio, I’ve learned, I swear. I just- I just lost my temper when I saw her touching you-” 

“-I’ve had enough of the excuses.” Coriolanus snapped, hand wrapping back around your bicep, pulling you into the small study. It was your apartment, but the study was Corio’s. You had it converted for when he stayed over and needed to do school work for University. 

It also harbored all his favorite torturous toys for your thrilling sex life. 

Corio pulled you over the mahogany desk, flipping your skirt up like a naughty school girl. His cock throbbed at the sight, your bottom raised and presented for him. He knew you’d be upset, already sniffling and pouty, which is exactly why he pulled out the cane. 

“I want you to remember this lesson,” Corio’s voice was commanding, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up before he stood behind you. You gasped, writing away when he tapped the cane gently against the skin of your ass, one hand anchoring your back into place. 

“The next time you think of behaving so inappropriately.” Corio looked at you through the mirror, holding your gaze. “The next time you forget your place in my life.” The cane cut through the air with a ominous swish, landing on cheeks, etching a thin line over the two globes. 

The caning Coriolanus gave you was brief but brutal. Ten strokes, raised onto your skin, leaving you sniffling and sobbing over the desk, a pool of tears pathetically beneath your chin. Corio spent the night babying you, after rutting into you, grunts and whispers of his own affections pressed into your tear soaked cheeks.

[greenandsorrow]

the price for misbehaving (i)

Alastor in the rut x gn!reader

WARNINGS; 18+, reader with female parts, horniness & hormones, deer/doe!demon!reader, breeding k1nk, primal instincts, mentions of deer mating season, premature ejaculation, masturbation, dry humping, penetrative sex, marking & biting, friends to lovers, very descriptive, smut with emotion, corn with plot, fictional man being pathetic

Dividers by; @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

Please do not repost or directly copy my work and don't use it on AI platforms either ❤️

I somehow always manage to write more than originally planned, so this is big. Also, this is my first time writing a gender neutral reader -I'm still learning.

my original idea • ~masterpost~

Alastor is the radio demon. You have no clue how he manages to behave like he's the epitome of etiquette and a true gentleman, while also having the reputation of one of the most dangerous citizens of Hell, an overlord, a sinister killer and a cannibal.

Alastor is your friend. You fell in Hell three decades after him, but the fact that you're also a deer demon seemed to get him interested in you. His smile is less a sign of dominance and more one of sympathy around you. What's more, the radio demon is a tad bit protective when it comes to you. You'll never know it, but Alastor has his way of keeping you safe, discreetly pulling the strings, luckily for your sake.

He had been missing for years and when he had come to your door, big grin, shiny hooves and polished cane and had told you about the "Hazbin Hotel" you hadn't questioned much. It was weird that someone like him would back up Lucifer's daughter on such an idealistic plan, but with the extermination being a constant bane in your life, you had agreed heartily. You had wrapped your arms around Alastor's lean frame in a never recorpirated hug and you'd been off to your new place of residence.

You like the hotel. You and Niffty are old friends, the barman is a familiar face and Charlie is thrilled to have you here. The other residents have been no trouble to you, so you've managed to adjust to your new lifestyle no problem.

Let's not forget one thing though, you're all sinners and Alastor is ten times the amount you are. This comes with consequences for him. Alastor is bound to face an eternal struggle against his animal side, a struggle that he's been destined to lose. According to Angel, the radio demon you call your friend would identify as asexual had he been born later on Earth. But even with that, the urges he has to experience during the rutting season can't be prevented. You're still unaware your friend has to go through this.

But that's Alastor's price for misbehaving.

It's another evening at the hotel.

Charlie and Vaggie are on a date and that means no planned activities for the rest of you. You like the peace and quiet. Your deer ears are lowered in concentration as you're sitting on the couch of the lounge area, reading a book which has turned out to be a sick and twisted edition of Pride & Prejudice.

Alastor's been very distant since the beginning of autumn. More than usual. It's almost October now... and it has peaked your interest why he has been spending whole days locked up in his quarters. Sometime during September, you two had been chatting merrily about jazz, when all of a sudden his pupils had shrank and he had let out an uncharacteristically shaky sigh. You remember how his breathing had sped up and he had smiled politely before vanishing into thin air.

You're about to stand up and go to your room, when your ears practically perk up at the sound of static. You know this sound... and even though it usually means bad news, you look up and give the source of it a little smile. "Oh, hi Al..."

Alastor's antlers begin to grow, but he can control himself for now. The rutting starts hitting him with a new wave of frustration -and it's getting worse now that he's in your presence.

"My favorite y/n! What are you reading my dear?", his grin and confidence hide how vulnerable he feels in this state.

"Charlie gifted me some of her old books and-"

"Oh Charlie! She is a gem, isn't she?" Alastor suddenly leans to the side, as if trying to scratch something out of his hair. His face quickly returns back to its normal grin... but he also begins to scratch his arm.

You chuckle awkwardly. Why is he looking so irritable?

"Well, she's so nice, I can't disagree with you there... and I'm glad she finally decided to take some time off to spend with her girlfriend."

He laughs, showing off his sharp teeth as you initiate in small talk.

Alastor can feel a voice deep within calling him to give in and claim you, breed you 'till his hunger is satisfied. The radio demon's expression fades to an empty, dull stare, as his instincts fight against him. Now you're feeling uneasy and you shift in your seat.

"Ah- sorry dear. Got caught up there, I forgot myself." Alastor takes a quick breath, his eyes narrowing as he struggles to stay in control. "Don't you worry y/n! I'm certainly quite harmless."

He's in full rutting mode, his voice starts becoming breathy -the animalistic urges taking over. It's only getting worse as he stands close to you, the hormones increasing his urge to be near you, to make you his and his alone.

His voice is hoarse now and his breathing heavier. "Have you seen Niffty by chance?"

His ears move as if they're itching him.

You clear your throat and try to keep your curiosity regarding his behavior at bay. "I'm afraid I haven't, she's probably killing bugs somewhere..."

Alastor's expression shifts to one of pure annoyance. To your oblivious so far mind, Al is probably just pissed off at something. "Well then, if you happen to see her, do tell her she better not disturb me at my room... and don't you dare forget it my dear!"

"I- I won't."

His pupils almost completely disappear as he stares at you and his mouth curls into a snarl with his yellowish teeth out.

He has a hypnotic effect on you, you're beginning to feel lightheaded being near him. He takes a step back, moving a safe distance away from you -because he feels like he's gonna launch on you at any given moment. Alastor is getting tired of trying to maintain his composure around you.

He hates how shallow his breathing has become, how the urge to take you has become too much for him to bear. A low growling noise escapes him.

Alastor watches as you resume your previous activity of reading. Humiliated from his lack of control and frustrated from the stinging sensation in his loins he slips away from the lounge.

Alastor is alone now, his eyes wild with lust and desperation, as he looks around his room in a frenzy. He grabs a pillow and starts rubbing his groin against it. He feels like his body is melting from all the heatb -he can't help but imagine the pillow is your backside.

"Oh~", he breathes out raggedly, his inhales shallower and shallower as his imagination toys with him. You'd look so delicious in the place of the lifeless pillow... Alastor's heart is racing and his antlers have grown sharp and tall on his head.

He is overwhelmed, being rather sexually unbothered the rest of the year has made his shaft extra sensitive.

...why him? Why does he have to go through this rutting thing? It makes him feel powerless and he hates it...

Alastor groans in desperation. He squeezes his eyes shut, imagining your soft skin sliding against his body... He thinks of your cute fluffy tail. You get all your clothes tailored so that there's space for it to protrude while he always tucks his own in his suit pants...

In a fury, he takes off his coat and crawls on the bed, placing the pillow between his legs. He's in all fours as he humps it like a real deer.

He keeps growling, the sound mixing with static. He can't stop thinking of you -the perfect mate... another deer. Alastor's mind is playing out all these amazing things, your smile and your voice, your butt, your ears that match his own... and your neck that he'd definitely mark with his teeth if he was ever given the chance.

Alastor is in a trance. With shaky hands he curses himself for, he reaches down to his crotch and takes out his cock. His tip is flushed and swollen and he hisses as he continues to push his hips against the pillow. The deer demon grunts softly, his hips moving involuntarily with restless abandon as he pretends to be mating with a partner.

"Take that... oh~" Alastor's cock throbs painfully, desperate for release. The pillow has been providing him with some much needed friction the last few weeks, but he knows it soon won't be enough to satisfy him. His red hair is sticking to his forehead and he's panting so much -chasing his release with a desperation he'd consider pathetic, if he could focus on anything else than his tightening balls.

Alastor continues to rub against the pillow and the motion makes his tail slip out of his suit pants. He can feel his body heat up even more, sweat beading on his forehead as he approaches his climax.

Your curiosity has gotten the best of you. You can't concentrate on your book and all you can think of is Alastor. In any case, the other residents of the hotel are busy doing their own thing, so there's no one stopping you from walking all the way to Alastor's rooms. There's static coming from his bedroom, but what really intrigues you are the groans... they're rather guttural... You assume he maybe hunted down an animal and he's devouring it? This has to be it...

On the other side of the door, Alastor is shaking with desire and his heart is pounding. The smell of you -that he assumes is part of his fantasy- is driving him insane, as he is almost ready to release a torrent of hot cum on his pillow.

"Alastor?" you knock on the big, ornate door.

This sudden interruption almost causes Alastor to fall over. He quickly covers his twitching member and throws the pillow away from him. One would expect him to feel embarrassed, but his first thought at being caught red handed is to kill you. Luckily for you, it's just a thought.

"Al? It's y/n. Can I come in?"

The radio demon's face contorts in desperation as he realizes how unsatisfied he feels. His hips are still rocking back and forth slightly, despite his attempts to control his body.

Why did you have to pay him a visit NOW? He was so close to finding relief...

Alastor has become desperate and not to mention agitated. What if you smell his arousal in the air? What if you look down and see the outline of his dick in his pants?!

He groans and shifts uncomfortably. The demon closes his eyes for a moment as he tries to even out his breathing.

Eventually, he shakes his head and walks to the door. He has fought against mighty overlords, he shouldn't hesitate to face his harmless friend just because he is in the rut.

Alastor doesn't want to admit it, but he most definitely is in breeding mode. Proof of that... the moment he opens the door, your smell becomes so strong to his heightened senses that he almost cums in his pants from it alone. Your friend bites back a groan.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, my dear?"

Taking in his appearance, something is definitely off to your inquisitive eyes. You notice how he's only in his shirt and vest -something truly rare for the Alastor you've come to know. His bow tie is crooked and the cherry on top... you can see his tail! It's red like his ears and... moving? You wonder why.

"Is he in musth or something?" you joke in your head.

"I was just bored in all honesty... Everyone is occupied with something. Um... you look... sick?"

"Ha!Ha! Don't be absurd y/n! You can't get any sicker than you already are in Hell!"

He can't hide the slight edge from his voice. He claims he is fine, but the look on his face screams otherwise.

Alastor's temperature keeps rising, his body is so sensitive and without realizing it, he neglects to filter his voice.

"Would you like to come in?"

Your eyes widen and you look at him with genuine surprise clear on your features. He quickly catches up that he screwed, but lets it go, the shivers he's starting to experience as his unattended cock is asking for some action having gained all his focus.

The air in the room is thick and you begin to have second thoughts about your decision to come here, but it's too late for that, so you just walk in Alastor's bedroom. His quarters are always clean and intimidating just like their occupant. Still, you like coming here, he's never been hostile towards you and if anything, dancing with Alastor or spilling some tea with him has always been part of your routine here at the hotel.

"Wanna dance?"

"You know I always do." Alastor manages to keep his smile and composure despite the sweat running down his back.

The jookbox starts playing on its own and you casually walk closer to your years long friend. Since he's always been much taller, you place your hands on his chest, while he wraps his own around your waist.

Alastor's lips start tingling as he looks down at your exposed neck. He bites the insides of his mouth until he tastes blood -he can't allow himself to think about you like that.

You sway back and forth in the rhythm of the old timey tunes, inevitably rubbing against him. The new found friction has him biting down on his tongue and clenching his fists behind your back until his nails are piercing his palms -otherwise he'd be howling out in despair.

Immersed in the songs you love so much, you unconsciously shift even closer to your fellow deer demon, but he harshly jerks away from you, his expression growing panicked. "H- haha... I c- can't let you d- do that my friend!"

You frown. Why can't you dance with him like you always do? ...and did the radio demon just stutter? You sigh at his lack of cheerfulness and look down.

Your now downcast gaze gives you a nice view of his... crotch area... and the said area has a raging bulge. Your first thought is to touch it and indulge in the attraction you've always felt for Alastor, but the way his antlers are growing right now and the static that's peaking up again make you turn to leave.

Long fingers wrap around your wrist in an instant and when you turn back at him, his eyes have changed.

"The song's not over dear y/n.", he says in the same strained tone and you swallow.

"R- right... my bad."

He has you pressed tightly against him in no time and he's swaying with you almost like he's on autopilot. And you can now feel his unbelievably hard erection against your lower body. Alastor grunts softly, his eternal smile faltering as his cock keeps throbbing painfully within his pants, desperate for release.

The demon's eyes wander over you, taking in your form. He knows he has to maintain some semblance of control, but his hormones are off the roof. Without realizing the inappropriateness of his actions, Alastor reaches out to touch you, fingers grazing the skin of your cheek. The demon's cock throbs even harder at the contact, leaking pre-cum in his underwear.

"You're so beautiful..."

Heat pools in your belly and your face flushes at his simple comment. He's a charmer, but that's a new one. His monocle slips down slightly as he leans in close, his scent of musk and arousal surrounding you.

Alastor's hands move to your hips, pulling you impossibly close. His eyes lock onto yours, filled with lust and a primal need. He presses his hips against yours and you can feel his clothed cock twitching eagerly.

His monocle falls to the floor as he loses himself in the rutting.

"Al- what's happening?"

Before you can question his unusual behaviour any further, Alastor presses his hardened length against your stomach with intent. A mix of frustration and pleasure is clear on his features.

To say you're surprised would be an understatement, but you don't stop him. You watch in awe as your bricked up friend loses himself to lust and his need to mate.

Your innocent dancing moment has turned into him dry humping you. He releases a guttural groan -too far gone to care about composure.

Alastor begins to grind against you faster, mimicking the movements of a rutting deer. His grip tightens around you, his need growing stronger and overwhelming. The bulge in his pants keeps pushing insistently against you, but you're so stunned by this turn of events that you grab him by the arms and take a step back.

Alastor's eyes flatter open and for a moment... He snaps out of his blurry state of mind. He straightens and clears his throat. He then gives you a stern look, with ears lowered.

"Get out."

"B- but we were-"

"You don't want to make me repeat myself."

The moment he's alone again, Alastor works the buttons of his dress pants in a daze, freeing his swollen cock. A low growl rumbles in his chest -and the deer demon is convinced that if he doesn't cum in the following minute, he's going to die a second time. He keeps making soft sounds, his body aching with the need to mate.

He had you right here, but he can't bring himself to be so vulnerable in front of someone other than himself.

What would Vox say if he found out that Alastor is forced to go through a mating season like some fucking animal? Why does the price of his sins have to manifest into some primal need to breed?

"Fffffuck!"

His mind gets fixated on the ache between his legs.

With an animalistic sound of pure lust, Alastor reaches down and wraps his fingers around one of his heavy testacles. He squeezes it gently, feeling his warm seed oozing out his slit. He leaks copious amounts of pre-cum on his crimson bedsheets. The radio demon watches, transfixed by the sight of his own seed dripping down the length of his hard dick. It's a powerful aphrodisiac for him and he can't help but imagine it spilling into you instead.

His cock twitches in anticipation and he gives in. Every day since the rutting season began, he has been trying to suppress his instincts and today has been no different, if anything, your presence made his hormones go even more nuts... and you should be happy you're not carrying his fawns by now.

Alastor begins to stroke himself -legs spread and sweat making his clothes stick to his body. His breath catches in his throat as his hips involuntarily back into his hand. The tips of his claws grow slightly and he's jerking himself off at a punishing pace now. Alastor's groans turn into pleasured whimpers as he arches his back, driving his erection deeper in his hand.

What would it feel like to finish inside you? To make you come... To have your heat contracting around his rock-hard member as you milk him past the point of no return?

"Oh- ...agh- y/n..."

He's murmuring things in unknown languages, but it all comes back to your name.

Alastor's hips begin to thrust forward in time with his strokes, seeking release from the torment of his lust. He snarls and growls in a throaty manner. He physically can't take it anymore, his balls feel like they're on fire...

The radio demon's eyes roll back in his head, the pleasure is intense, but it's only fueling his desire for a real partner more.

His fingers are sliding up and down his sensitive shaft and he can feel himself getting closer -but he knows that's not enough. Alastor's breath has become ragged, his monocle forgotten along with his pride somewhere far away... his vision is blurring...

Feeling himself nearing the edge, Alastor grits his teeth and pushes through the ache. His muscles tense... and then, he finally comes in a powerful burst of pleasure, shooting thick ropes of cum across the room. He keeps coming, his hips bucking upward, pushing his cock even deeper into his fist as he empties himself.

Alastor's orgasm was intense -almost violent- but it was the sweet release he's been craving all day long. As his climax finally begins to subside, the demon collapses back onto the bed, panting heavily.

However, his cock has remained hard and throbbing between his legs, demanding more attention as he tries to catch his breath.

Slowly, a tired Alastor sits up and glances down at his still engorged member. A part of him is reveling in the feeling of power that comes with being so thoroughly aroused, but he's not ready to admit that. For now, needs to fuck something, anything.

But hasn't he been tormented enough? Why isn't he satisfied yet?

He reaches for the nearest object. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it can take his cock and bear the brunt of his ferocious passion. With a sinister chuckle, Alastor picks up another unlucky cushion and holds it tightly against his hips. His cock jerks repeatedly as he positions himself with the head of his shaft pressing against the soft fabric.

The cushion offers little resistance but serves as an outlet for Alastor's raging desire. He pounds away at it, relentlessly, his body shaking. With the ever present sound of static -evidence of his frustration-, he rhythmically pistons in and out of his makeshift partner with brutal force.

He's been doing this for weeks now, all the unsatisfied hunger making him lose his sanity bit by bit.

The radio demon's eyes are glazed over with passion. He continues fucking the cushion with savage intensity... still he wishes he could take it out on someone made of flesh and blood, someone who would react and offer him some reassurance that he's not going to pass out.

The pleasure is threatening to overwhelm Alastor once again and with labored breathing, he frantically moves his hips-

"N- no, n- no....agh-" he lets out a feral roar, spurting a sticky cumshot onto the cushion. This time, when he collapses on the mattress, he is exhausted.

He doesn't bother looking down at his angry cock, the discomfort isn't going away till the mating season ends...

...let's go back to you now.

After being so abruptly pushed away by Alastor, you went straight to your room. You have a lot to ponder over after tonight. Maybe you did have a small a crush on your friend that had allowed the situation to escalate. His behavior has been so off putting though.

You'd been proud of yourself, considering that you know Alastor better than anyone else in Hell, since he talks about everything with you over a cup of tea. He had been so excited to tell you he'll soon be back on air and he's always somewhere around you at all times. So, the fact that he just expressed sexual desire for you and then told you to leave him alone immediately after...

You would have never guessed that your fellow deer demon is interested in sex. He's been in the company of some of the most desired demons, but he's simply not into that kind of thing... Yet, he had dry humped you like some desperate animal.

His scent had been so blissful to your nostrils, that he had almost woken something primal in your own body. There's definitely a lot of tension between you two now and you hope that tomorrow he will approach you.

You sigh and get all cozy under your bed covers. How should you deal with the situation at hand? You know him. Not just the radio demon, or Alastor the cannibal, but him.

Maybe the whole redemption thing is working after all, but when did you start being so considerate and thoughtful of other sinners' hardships? And if your friend's hardship is a constant hard on, perhaps your services will be appreciated -or you've just been hanging out with Angel too much.

It's a new day in Hell.

You take your time getting ready before joining Niffty in the kitchen to make breakfast.

Alastor is sat on his bed, his face buried in his hands as he trembles with unwanted arousal. He's almost at the point of a nervous breakdown. The radio demon is getting angrier with himself -the urge to find you and claim you is getting worse and worse and he struggles to maintain his calm.

Alastor gets ready. His routine a bit different when in rutting mode. He first relieves some of the pressure in his balls, he then puts on a clean shirt, fixes his hair and places his red monocle back in place. And of course, his smile, because he's never fully dressed without one!

"Oh good morning my fellows! What a pleasant breakfast you seem to be having!" He prefers to eat alone, so him appearing late isn't something worth noticing... but the tenting in his trousers definitely is...

And when Angel smirks mischievously at him, Alastor smiles in such an unnerving manner that the spider demon has to cower behind Husk.

"Al! Morning!" you say a bit too cheerfully. Your ears rise on your head to match your general attitude.

The radio demon grins at you -internally relieved you're not keeping last night against him. He rarely feels any remorse -part of why he's in Hell- but he's not proud of snapping at you last night just because he's irritable and frustrated 24/7. You're a deer demon like him, but you never get in heat like an animal, you weren't as sinister as he was when alive and therefore your punishment isn't as tormenting.

You stand up and start gathering the dishes. Charlie is eager to help you, but you manage to deny her excessive kindness for once.

Alastor swallows a guttural growl as you turn your back at him and start walking to the kitchen, your deer tail and your ass all too enticing for him. His legs begin to move against his will, following you like he's being driven purely by instinct. He is once again biting his tongue hard enough to taste the familiar to him, metallic taste of blood. There is a certain strain the urge is causing him... and for once Alastor is feeling desperate for touch.

"Angel and I are going outside today, he said he wants me to meet a friend of his... Um, I think her name's Cherri or something."

You obviously felt his presence, his red eyes feasting on your form the whole time.

"How delightful, making new acquaintances! I am still decorating my humble station. Haha!"

"Oh, I can't wait to experience your radio show again Al! It's been so long!"

His arrogant smirk is accompanied by a twitch of his stiff dick. The energy boost he feels when you acknowledge his power... it makes him dangerously lightheaded.

He walks closer to you, looming right behind you as you stretch to put something on a high self. Alastor has you trapped between the kitchen counter and his body. The demon's cock throbs painfully against the fabric of his pants. The said fabric growing damp as he grows harder.

With a frenzied urgency, Alastor gives in to his animal side and leans in, his hot breath in your ear is sending shivers down your spine, your pupils dilating.

"Do you even realize what you've been doing to me sweet y/n?"

He is getting impatient... and when you don't answer him immediately, he presses his tent against your ass. "Do you my little deer?"

The sound of static feels the air, his voice distorted and his breathing heavier than before. "You... have no idea how much I want- no... how much I need this, with you."

You swallow, your own breath has sped up and heat has pooled in your tummy again. But when you turn to look at him, you come face to face with a hideous creature with wild eyes. You flinch. Alastor's smile fails him and you swear you hear the most discreet of sniffles coming from him.

"Help me." That's proof enough for you that your friend is going through something he clearly didn't ask for, but it's taking over him anyway.

Angel Dust has described to you how he'd needed time to get used to having multiple arms and you have to file down your antlers daily, so that they don't overgrow and cause you headaches. Alastor on the other hand loses himself to primal urges once a year.

You lock your gaze on his and extend a steady hand, placing it on the side of his pale face. Not only does he allow it, but your small gesture seems to have the effect on Alastor, his demon form receding -and you can see how sweaty and shaky he really is, while also trying so hard to hold back from bending you over the counter and taking you raw right now.

"Stay still..."

It's now or never for you. You hesitantly cup his bulge.

Alastor gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head as he leans into your touch. He's already so aroused that any contact sends shivers down his spine. He buries his face in your neck and starts nibbling or better... biting around your collarbones. It's a cannibalistic urge of his, but he would kill himself before causing you any real harm.

Alastor groans, his still clothed member twitching under the pressure of your hand. The demon can barely think straight -rutting instincts taking over completely.

"I need... I need to be inside you." He can only whisper, reaching down to pull your shirt up, his fingers trembling as he does, revealing your upper body to him. "Yes... I need you."

This is all so sudden for you, but you finally know with certainty what's happening. "You're... mating or something?"

You stop rubbing his clothed crotch and Alastor moans, the sound carrying the old audio-like effect. He nods slightly, his hips bucking against your hand. He's so close to losing control. The mating season has driven him mad with lust. A lust projected on you, it seems.

"Y/n... I need you now."

"Al... They- They're gonna hear us... We're in the frickin' kitchen! ...we can't... can't-"

Alastor's eyes widen and he stumbles back, his erection pleading to be freed from his dress pants.

He looks at you incredulously, angrily. "What?! But I... I said that I need you." He starts panting, there's a look of betrayal on his face that has you short circuiting.

"I'm already half naked here and you're... You're obviously hard- It's too risky!"

"I. Don't. Care."

"Well you should... but..." you sigh.

"I do have another idea. I've been rather inactive in the afterlife but... I can do it for you."

Your friend's heart is racing with anticipation. He tries to control his unsteady breathing -without much success.

"Another idea?" he asks with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "What is it?"

"I know it's not what you really crave... but I can... you know... jerk you off?"

Did you really just say that?

He begins to unbutton his pants hurriedly.

"Very well..."

As Alastor's pants fall to his knees, he scratches his fluffy ears, presenting his throbbing member to you. It's a sight to behold -long with a shimmering dew covering the tip.

"Do it."

Your mouth waters as your eyes take in Alastor's cock. The head of it is a deep reddish purple, almost glowing. His ballsack hangs heavy, filled with seed, so that he can breed for as long as the rutting lasts. Something must've altered in your brain's chemistry, because you take his balls in your hand, fondling them. The deer demon lets out a low moan, his hips thrusting forward slightly. The sensation of your hand on his sensitive balls is almost too much for him to bear...

"More..." he manages to whisper between pants.

Encouraged by his reaction, you squeeze his balls softly and Al lets out a throaty groan, his dick twitching, almost ready to explode. He's not used to other people touching him.

You're still unsure if that's the right thing to do in the kitchen, where anyone can walk in at any given moment. But he seems to be really into it and the look in his eyes makes it clear to you that you can't just stop now. So that's what he's been struggling with, what's been making him stay locked in his room, until dealing with it on his own wasn't enough.

Alastor's gaze is pleading you and his voice comes out shaky, unfiltered.

"Please... I need more..." He then reaches down and moves your hand on his eager cock. You wrap your fingers around his length, with your thumb resting on his head, tracing it slowly. The sounds he makes and the way his features contort with pleasure makes you start stroking him.

The overlord can't believe what's happening. He has never experienced anything like this and it feels incredible. The more you stroke him, the more he bucks his hips into your hand. "Y- yes... just like that..."

You feel so confident now that he seems to have let go completely, allowing you to do as you please with his body. You know teasing isn't fair, especially in his hormonal state, but you can't help slowing down your hand's movements -playing with the friction you're providing him with. He lets out a frustrated huff of air, his nostrils flaring.

"Faster."

"Nope, I told you I don't want anyone finding us out."

"I didn't ask you darling. It was an order."

You stubbornly slow down your hand even more and you know that this is far from enough for him. Alastor needs more speed, more pressure.

"I... Don't... Give a single penny if they'll hear us... J- just... y/n, get me there." His body trembles with need as he speaks to you.

"You... You accepted to help me... And yet, you- you refuse to give me what I want." He looks down at your lips with a mix of lust and anger in his bright eyes.

You suppress a mischievous giggle.

It's empowering seeing such a strong demon being dependent on you. You can feel the heat radiating from his dick and he makes a desperate little sound when you begin moving your hand up and down his long member again.

You almost feel pity for him -teasing is fun, but you don't want to disrespect him or humiliate him while he's so vulnerable and out of control. Though that decision has nothing to do with the fact that he could kill you, you actually feel strongly for him and the way both pairs of your ears move in sink as you pick up pace is so... natural for you, like you two belong together in a primal sense.

Alastor feels his muscles tensing up and his black heart is pounding like crazy.

"I can't- can't-"

He looks mesmerized at your hand jerking him off at a now delicious speed.

You are so turned on and you want to give him all the pleasure you can, even if you're in the hotel's kitchen. You begin sinking on your knees and you see him gulp. Your friend freezes for a moment, his mind racing with images of pleasure and ecstasy.

"That's new."

"How so Al?"

"I've never had that... but I want to now."

You can't help but smile. He probably never wanted a blow job before and he won't be in the mood for one after the rutting ends.

You're now at the right height so you just go for it, leaning in. Your tongue swirls around his pulsating cockhead and you're surprised from the amount of pre cum he can produce. Alastor's eyes roll back in his head as he lets out a long, low moan. The sensation of your warm breath and wet tongue on him sends shivers down his spine.

"Don't stop..."

You lick his slit and he groans deeply, his eyes squeezing shut. "Yeah... Keep doing this... agh~"

You're offering stimulation and he's gritting his teeth at the feeling, but something isn't quite right. You're once again toying with him, denying him the release he so desperately wants.

"I will have you... eventually."

Alastor then takes a big breath, his cock is still hard as steel. "You're a real temptation~" He glares at you -rather hungrily- his nostrils once again flaring.

"Don't try to make me beg."

"But would you now?" Under any other circumstances, you'd never be that bold with him....

Alastor laughs darkly in response to your challenge, causing a cold chill to run down your spine.

"You wound me, my dear. I would never beg for anything... Especially not when it comes to satisfying this... this unwanted but still unyeilding desire..."

You smile wickedly -your ears conveying your feelings, as always, when they move. In a swift motion, but still cautiously, you push back his foreskin. A low, agonizing moan escapes Alastor's lips as your action exposes his sensitive flesh to the air. Hips jerking forward involuntarily, seeking more contact with your hand...

"You're killing me mon cher~"

"Buckle up Al..."

You start stroking him thoroughly.

The radio demon closes his eyes, ragged breaths leaving his open mouth as you jerk him off. Every fiber of his being is focused on the pleasure. He groans... feeling his elusive climax approaching at last. "Unh..."

You're now applying some serious pressure on his throbbing dick. With a primal scream, Alastor's entire body tenses up and he begins releasing his seed on your hand.

"Oh goodness..." He keeps groaning and you can see him shudder as he does so. He continues spurting thick, white fluid onto your hand, seemingly unable to stop himself.

In his eyes there's a mix of lust and gratitude. He licks his lips unconsciously.

"What else can you do to me?"

"W- What? Me?"

The demon chuckles lightly at your question. His eyes trail down your body appreciatively when you stand up. "And why not you? You're here and I need some action these days!"

He grins and you sigh.

"Well, that means it could be anyone... anyone other than me."

You don't like how this revelation makes you feel sad and disappointed.

A sly smirk plays at the corners of Alastor's mouth. "I suppose it could, but then again, why settle for anyone when I can have you?"

His voice is husky and you like this tone from him. "You and I belong together, dear y/n."

He's clearly considering you his mate now.

Your romantic side wins and you cup his face. That seems to sober him up if just for a few minutes. The overlord looks like he's savoring the sensation and a deep sigh escapes him. "I don't deserve this, not with you."

"But I do want to be present through this... I get it."

The glimmer of hope returns to his eyes. "You have to mean it."

"I won't leave you suffering alone Alastor."

He nods as he thinks it over. "In that case... I'll accept your offer."

You smile sweetly. This isn't that bad. He didn't even ask for a deal. You stand on your hooves and give his cheek a little kiss. He beams at you as he takes hold of his signature cane.

"Oh I think I'm going to enjoy this!"

"Haha, so do I... B- But let's make you something to eat before you get all excited again..."

"That's a wonderful idea darling! And I might as well tell you about Susan's new act while you're at it."

Alastor feels a warmth he hasn't in a long time. As you work on preparing food for him, he seems content and somewhat at peace. But then, like clockwork, the desire is going to build up again. Through the week the rutting hits him anew and he becomes extremely short-tempered. He has to change rooms when Charlie starts singing and he's constantly arguing with Husk.

Alastor surprises himself.

During the times he does manage to control his primitive urges, he's actually avoiding you. He has this idea that he would end up hurting you if things ever escalated fully between you two.

Could this mean that he actually cares about your wellbeing?

He is an overlord. He is the one and only radio demon, there's no way he has a soft spot for his fellow deer demon -who had relieved him of weeks of pent up tension just with their touch.

You, on the other hand, feel no shame nor guilt for your little encounter with Alastor in the kitchen. If anything, the fact that he's still in his mating season is making you wet, longing for more.

One fateful night, all of you're sitting together, you across from Alastor's armchair... and it's impossible to not look down. He has a prominent bulge and you're not even surprised. However, when you look back up, you freeze like a... well, you do freeze like a deer caught in the headlights, because he is staring at you so very intensely.

The air feels thick all of a sudden and his gaze implies many things -to your delight. He excuses himself shortly after, but not before giving you a slight nod. He wants you now. He needs you now.

Experiencing a slight Deja vu, you find yourself knocking on his door the very same night. The Deja vu intensifies at the sound of static coming from the other side of the door. You decide to let yourself in when there's no answer. "Al?"

A pair of big and intricate antlers comes in your vision. The smell of him floods your senses. It's intoxitacing, addictive. You want him too.

Alastor wastes no time.

He pushes you up against the nearest wall, his body pressing tightly against yours. His breath is coming in ragged gasps, his eyes full of lust and desire. The demon growls, baring his teeth in a feral grin.

In one swift motion, he tears your clothes from your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable before him. His eyes roam over your exposed flesh, his lips parted in a wicked grin.

With an animalistic growl, he buries his face between your breasts, sucking on your nipples with rough abandon. You moan and arch your back, the sensation sinfully satisfying. Noticing your response, Alastor's movements become even more frenzied. He reaches down to grip your hips, lifting you up onto the wall.

You then unzip his pants, lost in the haze of your increasing desire for him. Alasor groans when you do that, his hips bucking forward as you free his cock from its confines. It slaps against your lower stomach -rigid and angry.

With another feral growl, Alastor turns you around so that you're facing the wall -gaining a perfect view of your ass and tail.

You gasp as he parts your folds with his thumb, finding your already dripping entrance. Maybe he's not that experienced, but right now he seems to be driven by some infallible instinct. His finger doesn't stay in your cunt for long though, since the man is getting desperate to claim you as his -in a much more effective fashion.

You turn you head to the side and lock eyes with him. You shiver, almost scared at the pure hunger on his face. He thrusts into you with brutal force, driving his cock inside you deep and hard. His hips start pistoning against your ass, as he takes you without mercy. He's breeding, essentially. It's not meant to be slow or soft.

The gentleman you knew is gone for now, but you're digging your nails in his shoulders and letting out whines and moans nonetheless.

With each thrust, he growls like a beast claiming his prize. Alastor's eyes are wild and feral, reflecting the primal lust that consumes him. His heavy balls are slapping against your skin. You're turning to jelly slowly but surely, surrendering to him in way that feels natural to you -not forced.

Your old friend grunts in both pain and pleasure, losing himself in the heat of the moment. His fingers dig into your skin, leaving marks on your hips that show his possessiveness.

You reach behind you, grabbing his thighs to somehow ground yourself from the onslaught of pleasure in your core. A guttural moan escapes him as you touch his sensitive flesh. His hips buck against yours, driving himself deeper inside you and your eyes roll back in your head.

Alastor continues to pound into you relentlessly, his cock throbbing with each powerful stroke. He's sweating and he starts taking off his clothes -in a uncharacteristically clumsy manner.

He can't take it anymore, your tightening walls becoming overwhelming for him to bear. Feeling the pressure building within him, he growls low in his throat and picks up the pace even more.

The new speed he fucks you in has you seeing stars, the knot on your stomach snapping without warning. You cry out his name loud enough for everyone in the hotel to hear -but you simply don't care.

He moans your name as well, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives himself deeper into you one last time. His body shudders violently as he reaches the height of his own orgasm. Hot, thick cum is filling you up and there's so much of... It's dripping out of you and onto the carpet.

He finally did it. He's mated. He's bred you.

Spent and panting heavily, Alastor collapses on you, his forehead resting on your shoulder. You can feel his breath -and teeth- on your skin as you try to catch your breath. His dick is softening inside you, but he doesn't pull out just yet. His primal instinct is still active and making sure you take every last drop of his seed.

After you both relax in the present silence for a bit, he casually lifts you up and places you on the bed -the manhandling making you blush profusely, but he doesn't seem to notice. He lets out a sound close to purring as he lays down next to you, spooning you.

You sigh, feeling exhausted and simultaneously content. You roll over so that you're facing him... and he looks like he's already fallen asleep.

Your heartbeat has turned back to normal and you find shelter in his long and elegant neck, as you start dozing off into a peaceful and dreamless slumber.

He's not cold or ignorant the next morning.

...that morning ends up with him grasping at the air, as if searching for something to hold on to, as your head bobs up and down under the sheets.

It becomes common knowledge that Alastor's mood improves significantly after having sex with you. Something that does occur a couple more times in the spam of a week or so.

You knew the rutting was coming to an end when his desperate and forceful claiming -usually from behind- became passionate love making.

There was this one night...

Like a true gentleman of his time, Alastor had made love to you with deep, sensual thrusts as your hands had gotten lost in his fluffy hair. You had been underneath him.

Your orgasm had been accompanied by a soundless moan as you'd thrown your head back and he'd nuzzled your neck, breath labored and a frown on his face as he'd come shortly after you. You had let him fall asleep on you that night, both of you panting, sweat covering you.

The only time Alastor isn't smiling is when he is asleep, you have come to realize. You can't help but notice how tired he looks as you lay motionless next him. So you gently start caressing his ears -and he groans softly, nuzzling deeper into your touch, without even bothering to open his eyes. A small smile forms on his mouth, a real one.

Is this love? Maybe someday.

The End??

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[nondivisable]

hi I'm back with more disabled etiquette for the ableds

if you're able bodied and see a disabled person very clearly walking in a straight line on one specific side of the sidewalk please be the one to dodge them

people with vertigo or positional problems, blind people, people with uneven gaits; they may all prefer to walk next to a wall to orient themselves and/or avoid bumping into others as much as possible

when I'm out with only one crutch or my cane, I always try to have it on the side of the street that other people don't walk, as to avoid people kicking it as much as possible

not to mention, a lot of disabled people, specially wheelchair and crutch users, can't easily swerve to avoid you

also, disabled people may be familiar with which parts of the sidewalk are more broken or difficult to traverse and have an established path we walk to minimize falling potential and/or pain

also please please please keep in mind that almost walking into a disabled person and then giving them a wide swerve is still quite rude, unless the street is packed and you have no choice please just start walking on the other side of the sidewalk when you see us, which is probably like half a block away. there's no need for you to pretend we're invisible until you almost hit us

thank you very much

[teaboot]

Looking for advice on etiquette from folks with visual disabilities

When I'm at work at this one location, I try to nod or wave or smile at employees I'm friendly with as we pass each other.

One employee has a vision issue of some kind and uses a guide cane, and I figure they frobably don't have much sight at all cause their eyes are usually closed.

When I pass them in the hall, I usually say "Hi, [name]" and wish them a good day.

It has just now occurred to me that they know more people here than I do and when I say hello, there is a chance they may not know which person I am.

It doesnt matter that much I guess, but is this a legitimate concern? Should I say who I am at some point in case they've forgotten me or don't recognize who I am, or does it not really matter much? Would that just be presumptive and condescending? Should I assume we're all good until they voice an issue?

Then again, I'm kinda faceblind and I usually just assume someone I don't recognize is someone who knows me from wherever, and shrug it off until the answer reveals itself.

Im not dead set on cementing friendships here but they're really nice and fun to talk to so I wouldn't mind being work friends if that's on the table

What's good sighted person / non-sighted etiquette? Am I overthinking this?

Blease

[bigtedbear]

" 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 "

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐥𝐥?

content warnings: male reader, comfort/hurt/comfort, two old men, SFW, ill/chronically ill reader, misunderstood feelings, fontaine story quest spoilers!!!, Furina is the same gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, bear with me theyre in love they're just doomed by the narrative

clarification: case of collywobbles translates roughly to a case of butterflies in the stomach

the plan for this chapter changed as I was writing it and the title of the chapter became basically irrelevant BUT i still think it's fitting

" welcome back, caller @yuri1306! connecting your line as we speak... "

*dramatic drumroll*

hey guys it's finally out

A fair warning to all my returning readers: this may not be my best work, I'll be the first to admit that a lot of this was impeded by my writers block and I really needed to just push this out to get past it

many apologizes to @yuri1306 I did my best to try and encapsulate the entirety of your request my creative flow was not creatively flowing as well as it usually does :(((

That being said I don't think it's bad!!!

I still hope you all enjoy <33

“She really is quite something, is she not?” 

Neuvillette’s head pivoted to turn to the new voice. Unfamiliar at best, intimidating at worst. 

Furina de Fontaine’s inaugural speech; a historic moment and a moment none in attendance were soon to forget.  

Yet, instead of flocking to the stage to request audience with Focalors herself, you were here. 

You lagged behind the crowd. 

You chose to speak with Neuvillette instead. 

In accordance with social etiquette, he wiped the suspicious look off of his face.  “She is confident, assertive.  She has done well in establishing a name for herself in a social setting as brutal as the court.” 

You hummed, resting both palms on the intricate cane you’d chosen to accessorize yourself with.  “It’s a shame in all actuality.  She would have done better to take the harsh critique of the first half of her speech.  I would much prefer to see a face of humility and honesty leading the nation of justice.” 

Neuvillette did not respond. 

The silence was supposedly uncomfortable, and yet the regular churning nausea of awkward tension didn’t seem to constrict the Iudex’s airway. 

Carefully, you peeled a gloved hand from the handle of your cane.  You offered it to the judge politely.  

Cautiously, he gripped it in his own hand before giving it a simple shake. 

“I am [name], I have been appointed to serve as the acting chief advisor of Fontaine.  It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” 

“How did you-”

You raised a brow curiously, looking at the large crowd of people before looking back to the other man still currently holding your hand in his own.  “...forgive my cheek when I say this, Monsieur, but it truly isn’t difficult to pick you out of a crowd.  I must say, your predecessor didn’t mince his words when it came to describing your appearance, you are exactly as he described.”

Even as you hid the amused expression stretching the lower half of your face behind your fingers, the red tainting his otherwise pale skin was not as easily disguised.  Still, even in the face of his unmistakable embarrassment, he did his best to steer the conversation elsewhere.  “You’ve spoken to him?” 

You nodded, resting a hand on your cane.  “For someone as old as I am, I have my connections.”  You gestured towards the stage, “Lest another have been chosen for this position.” 

Another silence settled between the two of you.

He coughed into his fist, volume diminishing as he asked, “My predecessor, he didn’t… speak poorly of me, did he?”

He watched your expression twist with mirth, eyes glinting with poorly veiled amusement.  “No, nothing of the sort.  You can rest assured he was nothing but kind towards you.”  You paused, leaning on your cane as you seemed to think on your words, “Well, at the very least, he wasn’t cruel.  I’m sure you of all people know he’s become far too short-tempered for pleasantries.” 

Neuvillette sighed, posture deflating just the slightest bit.  

It was impossible to miss the chuckle that escaped at his expense. “In the very least, you were spared the worst of mentors.  I’ve heard that one of the remaining Adepti seems intent on meddling in their apprentice’s love lives.”

“You can’t be serious,” the other man responded. 

“Oh, completely serious,” You gestured for him to follow you out into the lobby; there was far less crowding, “I felt so terribly for the young woman last I made the journey to Liyue.  If you were to ask my opinion on the matter, Xianyun is far in over her head trying to meddle in the affairs of young love.” 

He blinked, “Xianyun?” 

You hummed, placing a contemplative hand under your chin.  “You’ve never left the boundaries of Fontaine, have you?” 

He shook his head. 

“Her Adeptal name is Cloud Retainer, aside from that, she is referred to by the name Xianyun.  She has currently taken on an apprentice in the shape of a young half-human half-adeptus,” you explained, trailing up the steps to and from the large theater.  “Ganyu has a very sweet temperament, but it seems as her master attempts to push further into her personal affairs, the further she’s moving to get away from her.” 

Neuvillette nodded his head, tentatively following your lead away from the large crowd.  “Is this related to why you are treating Lady Furina in a similar manner?” 

You paused, looking towards him.  “Oh, not in the slightest.” 

You could see the confusion growing further onto his face. You snickered behind your glove again, turning your back to continue trailing up the stairs.

Still, he followed you up the countless steps towards the lobby.  “I see… I suppose I’m having trouble understanding why you wouldn’t be at Lady Furina’s side in a moment like this.” 

You hummed, “Well, the hydro archon has already made her bed, I can do nothing but allow her to lay in it.” 

“I’m… not following.” 

You tapped your cane on the floor pointedly, “Well, Focalors has many plans to set in motion.  I play both a pivotal role in the production myself, but as of now, my only obligation is to play the role of a spectator.” 

Neuvillette’s brows furrowed. “...Has she asked you to be away from her in these moments?” 

You shook your head.  “Not directly.  But upon watching her grand performance upon the equally grand stage, what choice am I left with?” You pushed open the door to the lobby with one hand, pressing your back against it to allow Neuvillette to cross the threshold first. “Lady Furina has portrayed herself as the almighty, someone completely untouchable by the likes of man or any other power.”  

“Are you upset by her decision to do so?” The Iudex inquired, gripping his own cane closer to his chest.

You shook your head, "Not at all.  But let’s think for a moment what it would look like if the moment she steps off the stage, all questions are instead directed to her advisor.” You followed after him in the next breath, trailing towards the entrance to the grand theater. “In most scenarios, her all-powerful archon of justice is immediately crumpled in the eyes of the common person.” 

“...” 

You shrugged, “At least, when I put myself in the shoes of the lay person, I am not fooled.  She can put on as grand an act as she wishes on the stage, but when she is no longer in a space that is built for a performance, the reality behind the facade is suddenly revealed.  If Furina de Fontaine really is all knowing and all knowledgeable, why would she need to hide behind her advisor in the face of questions?” 

Neuvillette almost audibly heard something click in his brain.  “You are staying away so she can better maintain her image?” He pushed the door to the Epiclese open, welcoming in the sunlight.

You snapped your fingers, “Correct!” You dusted your shoulder off as you passed through the door.  “She MUST rely on herself. There is no glancing to the sidelines for reassurance or answers, this solution removes all distractions.”

The Iudex nodded, thoughtful.  “I believe I’m beginning to understand.” 

“I’m glad,” you took in a deep breath of air as you began to make the long trek towards the Fountain of Lucine,

“We are, of course, going to be working together for a very long time.”

“I figured I would find you here.”

Against the noise of rain pelting against his back, the Iudex lifted his head from his contemplative stupor. 

The dreary grays of the backdrop seemed to melt together similarly to how his thoughts slowly blended together to form one big amalgamated lump.  Still, in spite of the hail Mary of all storms  boring holes into the fabric of your umbrella, you stood face to face with him in the rain. 

“...”

“...”

He gave a half-hearted sigh, any coherent thought swimming in the puddles sloshing against the bottoms of his shoes. 

“Why are you out?” 

You didn’t answer to start with.  He didn’t know if it was because you were thinking over your words or if it was because you couldn’t hear him over the sound of water against the pavement. 

“Well, why are you out?” 

Answering a question with another question; typical. 

“I am troubled.” 

You hummed, moving your umbrella off your shoulder.  You held it between the two of you, equidistant so it’d stop the rain pouring all over the other man’s handsome features. 

“Troubled about what, Neuvillette?” 

The skin between his brows creased as he tried to come up with a good answer. 

He was a judge, someone that is meant to be completely unbiased in the face of the law.  He is to hear a case, come to the correct conclusion, and be able to live with himself at the end of the day. 

“A case.” 

You waited…

…and waited…

…and then waited some more. 

“...a case?” You tilted your head to the side. 

Neuvillette struggled to hold eye contact, letting his gaze drop to the rising flood.  “It was a case of theft, a single mother.” 

You gave a knowing hum.  “I see.  Have you come to the conundrum of justice versus fairness?” 

Again, you waited on a response. 

“...It isn’t so much that I haven’t seen cases like this before, it was something about the desperation on her face as she begged for leniency I was unable to grant her.” 

You nodded again.  “Still, am I correct to assume you have come to the moral dilemma of fairness versus justice?” 

His frown only deepened.  “I do not understand what you mean.” 

You poked a finger to your temple, “Well, logically, you are aware that theft is a crime.  You know that it is just and correct to dole out a sentence for a crime."

“...”

You poked him in the chest, “But you feel like the sentence is unfair because she had no other choice.”  

“...”

“You, as the Iudex, are unable to give her leniency because she committed a crime, but your heart wants to right the injustices she and her child are forced to endure,” You gestured towards the streets.  “The Court of Fontaine rarely sees those less fortunate unless they are begging.  Despite being the ones in charge, those in the Court are shielded from the problems of the common person.  You aren’t used to seeing someone in a situation where crimes become a necessity.” 

“...I suppose I am not.” 

You nodded again, “You see her, you hear her cries, you know her reasons, and yet, as a judge, you are unable to save her.  You must be wondering, why is that?” 

Like a lost puppy, Neuvillette’s head bobbed up and down. 

 "I’m afraid, I cannot answer,”  You reached into your breast pocket, blindly searching for your pocket watch.  “We can only have faith that the system will work in its due time.  Pray that the Fortress of Meropide treats her well, ask of Focalors to look over the poor child in the House of the Hearth.” 

“...”

“...”

“...”

The corner of your lips quirked up in a smile.  “What can be considered a misfortune can actually be a blessing in disguise.” 

Neuvillette tilted his head to the side. 

You gestured to the falling water,  “Rain may be commonplace in Fontaine, but in areas of Teyvat, rain is so rare it’s considered a sign or blessing.” 

“...That may be so.”

You adjusted your grasp on the umbrella.  “I am not originally from Fontaine.  Where I am from, rainfall this heavy would be considered a wonderful blessing.”

“...”

You waited for a response from him.  However, he didn’t seem to have one to give. 

“...”

You reached a hand out to him.  

He stared at it for a moment.  

You did your best to smile. 

“What is this for?” 

“Well,” you began, “You seem to be in low spirits.  I thought perhaps I would do my best to help shift your perspective.   There will be no convincing you unless there is some kind of change of pace.”

He frowned.  “Do you intend to lead me somewhere?” 

You shook your head.  

“...Well, what do you intend to do in any case?” 

You gestured to the water cascading down the sides of the plastic umbrella, “I want to celebrate a bountiful rain.”  

His sour expression only seemed to deepen as he looked around.  “I don’t understand what there is to celebrate.  We are in Fontaine.  Rain is an impediment to daily life.” 

You sighed, “Well, I want to help reframe your thoughts.”  You pointed to him, “Your perspective on the rain is inherently negative.  You believe it’s nothing but a nuisance.”  

“...”

You placed a hand over your heart, “It might have been a while since I’ve made a trip home, but still, everytime the rain is plentiful, it brings a smile to my face.” 

Once again, he didn’t respond.   Wordlessly, his gloved hand slipped into your own. 

Tentatively, you dropped the umbrella to the ground, facing the full wrath of the droplets soaking into your expensive suit.  

Immediately, Neuvillette’s face twisted in alarm. 

Still, you took his other hand in your own, beginning the steps to the traditional Fontainian Waltz.  

His mouth opened to speak, but it seemed without the shield of the umbrella, you couldn’t hear the sound of his protests.   Instead, you dropped one of his hands to bring him into a messy twirl. 

He flailed awkwardly for a moment, cheeks lighting up a red hue as he did his best not to slip on the wet bricks. It was more than obvious he was used to dancing the lead.   Even in his embarrassment, it seemed he didn’t have the heart to stop you. 

At the sound of a jovial laugh, even as the sky cried around the two of you, he felt his burning cheeks begin to light up in flames. 

Slowly, but surely, the clouds began to part. 

Another twirl, a few more shuffling paces, a misstep from him, more snickers at his expense.

Another handful of steps, and this time he would be the one to twirl you around.

It seemed time melded into a loop, nothing more than a concept that happened to slip your mind. The rain dissipated to nothing more than a fond memory.

As the dance came to a close, you coughed into the palm of your glove, trying to clear your throat.  “Are you feeling any better now, Monsieur Neuvillette?” 

“Just Neuvillette. Monsieur feels much too formal.”

Your polite smile stretched upwards just a little more as your shoes created little ripples in the surface of the unnaturally large puddles.  “I’ll take it that you are feeling better, then?” 

“Much.  Thank you.” 

You nodded again, “Well, I want to continue our discussion from earlier–about the mother and her upcoming sentence.” 

“...hm?” 

You chuckled, “Did you forget already?” 

He shook his head, “Of course not!” He tapped his cane against the ground, “It’s simply the fact I lack understanding for why you are bringing up the subject again.” 

You hummed, playfully incredulous.  “Yes, yes, anyways, let me make my point,” You cleared your throat once again, “Think of her sentence as a new beginning for both her and her child.  The Fortress of Meropide is by no means a kind place, but it is no crueler than the same streets that forced her to become a thief in the first place.” 

He tucked an arm behind his back. 

“Just as you viewed the rain as a nuisance, she views her sentence as a punishment.  In reality, I believe the situation is a blessing in disguise,”  You made a circular motion with your wrist, “Both her and her child will be cared for by their respective shelters.  She will have a job to occupy her time, a source of income, and her and her child will go to sleep in a warm bed, well fed.  Mother and son are only going to be separated for a short period of time, hopefully when they are reunited, the mother will have found steady employment in the Fortress.”

“Your health is beginning to get worse.”

Your eyes trailed behind you. “I'm surprised you noticed, my Lady. You've been busy as of late.”

Furina clicked her tongue, shaking her head dismissively. “What kind of archon would I be if I was not aware of my personal retainer’s health? You underestimate me.”

You rolled your eyes, flicking her nose affectionately. “I am your advisor, not your retainer nor your assistant. I am aware of your struggles, you don't need to pretend when it's just the two of us.”

Her cheeks puffed up angrily, rubbing the red blurb on her face. “Even if nobody is around, that doesn't mean you can embarrass me!”

You reached into your pocket to pull out a handkerchief, laughter turning into coughing behind a palm. You held the cloth over your mouth, feeling much too weak and pitiful for your own good. “Apologies, Lady Furina,” you sputtered out, “I will refrain from putting you in such a position in the future.”

She huffed, turning up her nose. “I expect nothing less from you.”

You took a deep breath, wiping your face with your kerchief. Stilling your breathing, you gave a cursory glance at the “Hydro Archon”. After so long of suffering, it pained you to know that she was indeed so far away from the finish line. “My Lady, I am afraid my time may come sooner rather than later.”

Her eyes widened. “You can't mean you're...”

You shook your head, doing your best to suppress another laugh for the sake of your throat, “No! Gods, no. I am anything but fragile, I will make it perfectly fine.”

She let out a groan, immediately taking to beating on your arm indignantly. “You infidel! You made me believe you were going to pass away! How cruel!”

You shielded yourself from her attacks playfully, backing up and raising your hands to stop her, “How terrible, Furina! You're attacking a sick man in broad daylight!”

She let another irritated groan slip, smacking your arm once more, “Only because you attacked me first!”

You cocked your head to the side, “I did not!”

“Did too!” She pointed an accusatory finger, “You attacked my emotional wellbeing! How was I supposed to be able to recover from the death of my most treasured advisor?”

You placed a hand over your heart, “You mean it, my lady?”

Her cheeks puffed up again, swelling a brilliant claret. She only grew more incensed as you continued to poke at her. Though, instead of using your words, your failure to quash a smile was more than enough to provoke her.

Still, as the merciful and benevolent archon she was, she pardoned your sins.

She crossed her arms, “When are you leaving?”

“Leaving?”

You felt a prick of anxiety inject its way into your nervous system. “Ah, Neuvillette, how lovely to see you again.”

Furina also paused in her tracks at the familiar voice. She remained silent.

“A pleasure to meet your acquaintance again, Lady Furina, [name],” he offered out a hand for you to shake. Hastily, you tucked your handkerchief in your breast pocket. “What is this about leaving?”

You took his hand in your own, “Nothing drastic, simply an appointment I must be on time for. Regrettably, I will be unable to spectate the proceedings of today’s trial.”

Neuvillette nodded, “I see. There will always be the archives in my office in case you'd like to catch up with the case material at any point.”

You nodded, humming with a courteous smile. “Perhaps I will take you up on that offer.”

Furina finally took the chance to speak up, “You have yet to answer my question, Monsieur. As your superior, I believe I am privy to such information.”

You diverted your attention from Neuvillette, pondering for a moment. “Around 15:00? I believe that should be ample time to make my appointment.”

Neuvillette perked up immediately, “Ah, is this in regards to your cough?”

Nodding, you turned your attention to the Grand Theatre, “Unfortunately it is. Usually, I would've recovered by this point, but because it's persisting I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Furina pulled her own small pocketwatch from where it was stashed. It popped open with a quiet, ‘click!’ “It seems we’ll have to cut this chance meeting short, Guests will be arriving soon for the trial.”

Neuvillette nodded, “I suppose we should be heading inside to take our seats,” He made a vague motion with a gloved hand, “Shall we?”

“Furina, would you be so kind as to allow us a moment alone?” She cocked her head to the side at your suggestion, but she relented.

“Alright, but before I leave, can I request just one thing?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Dutifully, you nodded.

She beckoned you closer with a finger.

It was your turn to raise a brow at her.

Still, you leaned in.

She tugged on your sleeve.

You leaned in even further.

“Come back in one piece,” she whispered, pinching the shell of your ear.

You gave a yelp as you tugged your head away from her assaulting fingers, rubbing the new crescent marks her nails left behind. “Now, was that really necessary, my Lady?”

She gave a triumphant smile, though you could tell by the way it wilted at the corners, she was less than thrilled. She placed a hand over her heart, giving her signature bow, “Perfectly necessary. Now, allow me to excuse myself.” Still, as she stood, she pointed an accusatory finger, “Keep this brief, after all Monsieur Neuvillette has a trial to preside over.”

“Of course,” you placed a hand over your own heart, mirroring her as you lowered your head, “I wouldn't dream of delaying any proceedings.”

She allowed herself one more parting glance before scampering off into the building to take her seat.

Watching her figure disappear, you finally returned your gaze back to Neuvillette. You coughed into your fist, trying to alleviate the pressure in your trachea. He only observed you silently.

“Neuvillette?”

“Yes?”

“Take a walk with me,” regretfully, you tacked on, “I'd enjoy your company one last time.”

It was unlike such a building to be so quiet. Still, given the hour, the Palais Mermonia lay dormant.

Only the Iudex and his retainer remained. Despite his more than spacious residential quarters, his chambers were too restrictive on this night in particular. They felt empty. They felt devoid of something, he just didn't know what.

So, instead of sleeping, he found himself running his hand along the cold marble walls. Trailing the corridor without a particular destination in mind, the candle in his other hand flickered and cast its shadow against the dark. It dawned on Neuvillette that he truly neglected the rest of his home the longer he walked. A vast dining hall, an equally large kitchen, a comically extensive library; all completely left to rot as he worked himself to death.

As he reached his hand to turn the knob of another door, he felt a sense of trepidation wash over him. One that wasn't present when he entered any of the other rooms.

Why?

…

He didn't know.

He let his grip lay slack on the handle for another moment while he wracked his brain for any ideas. What was this room? Had he been here before? Why could he feel his hand shaking?

Finally, he put those thoughts out of his mind when the lock clicked open and the wooden door swung open with a loud ‘creeeaaakkkk’.

‘Ah,’ he realized, ‘This was one of his rooms.’

A grand study, unchanged by time, greeted him. It was as if you'd never left. Sprawling bookshelves climbing up each wall, ladders haphazardly laid to lean on the dusty spines of forgotten books. An even larger than life desk at the far end, spotted with unsigned paperwork and long dried up ink pots. Even sadder, a single lamplight lily wilted in its pot at the corner of your desk.

He felt his heart crumble when he realized he had been the one to put it there.

The little makeshift lounge was equally well-preserved. A porcelain tea set he remembered so fondly collected dust at the center of the coffee table. Your favorite book lay across the arm of your favorite cushioned seat, a pressed flower bookmark denoting where you'd left off.

Neuvillette was almost tempted to pick up the novel himself, but he was afraid of two things. One, he didn't want to ruin this serenity, this moment frozen in time. Two, he didn't know if the book would actually hold itself together based on its age.

The armchair groaned as Neuvillette rested his weight on it. He felt a little bit like a loser, sitting alone in the middle of an empty room. Especially because the longer he sat, the more alone he felt. How long had it been since you invited him into your study like this? Could he even remember? It'd been around a century since you'd left…

…or had it been longer?

It only seemed to homogenize and blur the more he tried to remember. Years were starting to look more and more like the last the longer his monotonous life droned on.

It was so bad he couldn't remember how long ago it was he saw your face, but he remembered it. He definitely remembered what had been said.

'“Since you're needed elsewhere, I'm afraid much of what I want to say will go unsaid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I apologize for trying to deceive you, I truly am sorry,” you tapped your cane against the ground, “I was so close to getting away with it, too.”

“Deceiving me?” His expression shifted, “About what?”

“I’m leaving, yes,” You sighed, “But I'm afraid I won't be coming back.”

It felt like his heart stopped completely.

“I didn't want to drag you into matters that were already settled between myself and Focalors, but I know how you feel about me,” you awkwardly switched the hand gripping your cane, “When I thought about how devastated you'd be when you'd learned I'd lied to you, I decided I had to tell you.”

“But why?” Neuvillette asked, “Why would you only tell me now?”

A grimace overtook your features as the skies began to softly weep his sorrows, “You mustn't cry Neuvillette, Fontaine will need your strength now more than ever.”

“Do you really expect me to be strong in a moment like this? Am I not allowed to mourn?” He went to reach for your face, but his arm fell back to his side dejectedly. “You really won't be returning?”

“Knowing what I must do, I also know it will be the last of me.”

“Do you really need to leave today?” The Iudex grappled for some kind of opportunity, “Just one day, if I can have that, I can make peace with this.”

You shook your head, “I've put this off for too long already, I was afraid Fontaine wouldn't be ready for me to leave, I was even more afraid Furina wouldn't be able to continue on without me.”

“Not even a day?”

“I've made up my mind.” You finally let yourself rest a gloved hand on his cheek, watching his posture deflate while he leaned into your touch, “I'm eager to make this sacrifice for Fontaine, but I'm less than eager to leave you behind.”

“Why must you be the one to do it?” His voice came out like a whisper.

“I can't tell you,” you brushed your thumb across his cheek, wiping the rain away from his eyes, “But I want you to know before I am gone that you were loved, Neuvillette. I loved you, and I will die loving you.”

“Don't say that, please, don't say that.”

“Then, can I ask a favor of you?”

“Anything, anything I can offer.”

You smiled, “Take care of Furina, and take care of Fontaine.”’

How cruel, Neuvillette thought.

How cruel for Furina to leave him such a painful reminder this close to the very bed he slept in every night.

How awful for her to keep her hopes up when Neuvillette knew you wouldn’t return.

After all, what other reason would there be for her to keep your office so well maintained, so perfectly preserved and untouched.

It felt like Neuvillette was sitting in an empty tomb.

The wooden legs of the chair shrieked against the tile of the floor in the deafeningly silent study. He didn’t know where his feet were taking him, but he couldn’t decide on whether he wanted to leave or if he needed to stay longer.

Still, he paused in front of your former desk.

He didn't know why.

He also didn't know why he sat down in your nice leather office chair, rolling himself in so he could rest his head on the cool wooden desktop.

He didn't know why he was disappointed it didn't smell like you anymore. Of course it didn't smell like you, it'd been at least a hundred years since you were here. But maybe if he dug deep into his memories, he could pretend it did.

If he had gotten to have just one day, he could've made peace with your passing.

But how do you say goodbye to someone you considered to be your forever in just a few short moments?

Neuvillette couldn't come up with a good answer before he fell asleep again.

“Tall, lean, and emaciated. It was entirely unexpected for him to wake up at all.”

Furina clicked her tongue, dismissively. “I may not be the Hydro Archon any longer, but that doesn't mean you are allowed to freely criticize me. I asked to see him, I care not what state he's in.”

The attendant bowed stiffly, shoulders scrunched up. “I-I apologize, my lady,” He stammered, “I was unaware of what your intentions in meeting up with this man were, I believed his physical condition to be-”

She gave an irritated huff, puffing up her chest to express her discontent. Instantly, the man’s jaw snapped shut. She waved her hand. When the attendant didn't move, she waved her hand again.

Still, he didn't move.

“Helloooo? Do you have any idea what's going on?” Her expression shifted to be entirely displeased, “You are dismissed.”

“O-Oh!”

She watched the man scurry off like a sad puppy with its tail between its legs.

Finally, she turned her attention to the rather large door to the private room tucked away inside the infirmary of the Fortress of Meropide. She was left alone with her thoughts. Consequently, she could now focus on the nerves creeping up her spine.

It had been a month since the prophecy had been fulfilled, since she had saved the entirety of Fontaine.

She was free to be Furina now, free from her duties as the human half of Focalors.

It was exactly why she felt so confused about her anxiety of whatever lay beyond this door.

Her hands were clammy, her breathing accelerating. Her vision was starting to swim, and oh archons, was that a stress migraine brewing? For all the hard work she put into this, she didn't seem to be feeling the payoff.

But she couldn't be thinking like that now!

Instead of letting her doubts and worries consume her, she placed a shaky hand to the cold metal handle. Her movements were unsure as she wrapped her fingers around the bar. It felt like all the strength in her arm evaporated the longer she held onto the handle without doing anything.

So she used what little strength was left to sharply tug the door open.

"..."

“Furina?”

"..."

By the gods.

“Furina-” the voice was an exhausted rasp, “You have to tell me the seal didn't break, the prophecy didn't happen, I can't have failed-”

Her mouth opened to reassure you everything was fine, but the next moment her lips were curling as she tried to bite back a sniffle.

You took this to mean the worst, eyebrows curling upward in despair. A shaky hand reached towards your face, layering over your mouth.

Still, even when seeing you so worried and disappointed in yourself, she couldn't bring herself to cough up any words of affirmation.

'You didn't fail! Everyone was saved!’ she wanted to scream.

But instead she took a shaky first step over to the terribly thin cot you were situated on. Her arm absentmindedly raised to reach toward you.

“No, no, no, no, no-” Your hand raked through your already disheveled hair.

She took another step.

You pressed your hands together, hands clasped tight as you looked to the skies above, “I'm sorry, Egeria, Focalors, I promised I would- I swore-”

She began to walk.

“I promised Fontaine would be in good hands- I never meant to lie to you, Archons above if you may hear, forgive me-”

She could feel her own tears begin to slide down her cheeks as she watched you begin to openly weep, to pray and beg for some kind of mercy you did not need. She felt like a bag of bones as she took a seat next to you on the edge of the cot.

Your attention finally snapped to her, “Furina, my darling Furina, to you I am the most sorry-” You took a gasping breath, chest shaking as you heaved out another weak cry, “You have suffered in silence for centuries without me and I was unable to do the very least I promised to you-”

Her arm felt equally weightless when you picked up one of her limp hands to wrap up in your larger palms. Before you could continue to beg for forgiveness, her facial features twisted into just the smallest smile.

You almost didn't notice it until she started laughing.

With a renewed vigor, she wrapped her other hand around one of yours. Tears of relief streaming down her face, she all but shouted a victory cry in the middle of the quiet infirmary room, “We did it! We really did it! You don't need to be forgiven because we did it!”

As she celebrated, her happy tears flowed down her face, you didn't know how to respond at all.

“We… did it?”

She nodded quickly, all but shaking. “Yes, it's over, [name], we can finally rest.”

You blinked again, all but ceasing your tears.

“We can… rest? But- but what about-”

Your mind filtered between all the different things you could say.

What about your promise to Egeria? The deal you made with Focalors? You had sworn you would lay your life down to pave the pathway for a free Fontaine, a Fontaine without a curse lingering overhead. The seal you had sworn to protect until your last breath, it had broken… but it was still okay.

You were still here.

But what had happened? Were there any complications or bumps in the road? What about Furina? What would she do in her life as a cursed human? What would YOU do? And then there was…

“Neuvillette!” You suddenly snapped back to full alert, “What about Neuvillette?”

She smacked your arm, “You managed to survive and your first thought isn't even about yourself!” She sighed, wiping a tear from her cheek, “300 years has done nothing to change you.”

It was as though her words went in one ear and out the other, “What has become of him? Is he alright? He’s been well, hasn't he? Please tell me nothing too awful has happened to him.”

This time, she smacked your arm with an added aggression, “[name]! Neuvillette is fine! Would you please relax?” Still despite urging him to relax, she couldn't help the way her hands seemed to move on their own. Tiny claps, each ringing in the empty room with a joyous sound, “It's only seeming to sink in now that we are free.” She paused again, “Free, isn't that such a beautiful word?”

You nodded, but your thoughts wandered. “Indeed.”

Furina tutted, crossing her arms, “And what exactly has your mind wandering this time? Don't tell me it's still Neuvillette!”

You sheepishly averted your eye contact.

She pouted, “Well? Out with it!”

You sighed, “Does he know? That I am still…”

She hummed thoughtfully, “I didn't think to tell him. I was far too busy trying to find you, you rascal.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “However, I can assure you he will be nothing less than overjoyed to see you.”

You swallowed a lump of spit, “He will?”

She nodded, “Even all these years later, he hasn't moved on. You're lucky he is as loyal a man as can be, otherwise he might have moved on.”

“He waited… 300 years? Without any other relationships?”

“I would hardly believe it myself if I were you, but I've seen him make the trek to your old study with my own two eyes!” She folded her hands in her lap, “He really is as loyal at they come.”

You frowned, “That doesn't make me feel any better.”

She tilted her head to the side, “Why not? After all, you two were in love, weren't you?”

“I..." you began, "...don't know. Silly, irrational fears, I guess."

But you definitely knew.

How does one go about saying hello without a proper goodbye?

Especially when there wasn't supposed to be a "you" to say "hello" to in the first place.

“I came as soon as I heard-”

Furina stood from where she was seated just outside your room in the infirmary, “You’ll have to wait,  Siegewinne is with him right now.” 

His knuckles turned white around the handle of his cane, “Surely, she wouldn’t be bothered if I just stood in, if I could just–”

“Neuvillette,” Furina warned, “Whatever Siegewinne orders is in the best interests of her patient.  It isn’t our place to question her.” 

His hands were shaking as he tried to plead his case, moving closer to the door, “Lady Furina, you don’t understand.  I have to see him, I must see that it is truly him, that he is truly alive–” 

He was rambling at this point, so dizzyingly frenzied he could barely feel Furina’s smaller hands curl around his biceps, “Calm down!” 

“I-”

“No, no more arguments,” she shook him gently, “You need to pull yourself together before you become another patient.   You’re paler than I’ve ever seen you.” 

He went to open his mouth again, but one look from the former archon sent his jaw snapping shut.  The two stood in silence for a moment, just staring at each other.  

“...”

“...”

After a long moment, punctuated with labored breathing and more words exchanged through the eyes than could be described, the Iudex finally peeled his lips open to ask a final question. 

“Is it… really him?”

Furina let his words hang in the air for a moment before asking a question of her own, “Will knowing help you settle down while we wait?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, “but I feel so strongly that I must know.”

She chewed her lip contemplatively, weighing both options in her head.  Before she could decide, the lock on the door quietly clicked open in the tensely blanketed room outside of the infirmary.

The door opened with the knowing creak of old, heavy metal.  The pitter patter of little steps on the dark floor seemed to snap Neuvillette out of the little stance he was in with Furina.   He surged towards the door like a bullet, almost tripping over himself and almost knocking Siegewinne over in his haste.  

He couldn’t quite remember what all happened in the intermission.  Things like fumbling over questions, getting answers he couldn’t remember anymore were plucked out of his mind like the petals of a dying flower.  

Yes, your condition was stable.  

No, you could not consume solid food seeing as you’d just taken your medication.  (Much to Furina’s dismay, she had brought some of your favorite pastries. ) 

No, you would not be taken off of bedrest anytime soon. 

But yes, despite it all, you were in proper condition to accept visitors.  

He didn’t know what he was expecting to see beyond the closed metal door, but it wasn’t what he actually ended up seeing.  This wasn’t how he remembered you.  But it also was too close of a resemblance to assert that you were someone else or even an imposter wearing your skin. 

‘Such dull eyes, such pale skin…’

He toyed with the cuff of his sleeve.  Unconsciously, he found himself gritting his teeth, standing in the open doorway while he waited for you to acknowledge him.  He was reluctant to disturb the tranquil stillness that settled over your room.  He was afraid that if he moved or spoke, something would happen.  Something would crack and the illusion of your return would shatter and scatter into a million pieces on the floor.  

But the way your eyes lit up in recognition, the strained smile set on your face,  it was starting to sink in that you really weren’t gone forever.  You were right there, you were breathing, and you were alive against all odds.  “Neuvillette? Is that really you?”  Sweetly, the skin at the corners of your eyes crinkled, “You really made the trip to the Fortress just to visit me?” 

He could feel himself getting choked up at the sound of your voice, as rasped and painful as it sounded.  No matter how grating it would’ve been to anyone else, it was as soothing and melodic as a chorus of angels.  Even as he swallowed the spit clogging his airway, he still struggled to speak,  “Of course I did.”

“...”

“...Did you think I wouldn’t?” 

“...”

“...”

Carefully, he tugged the heavy door closed behind him.  He sat in the rather uncomfortable folding chair positioned at the side of your cot, nails digging little smiles into his palm even through his gloves.   What was once comfortable silence thickened and lay over your heads like a thick fog.  

Eventually, the sharp-edge of your voice cut through the mistlike tension like a blade, “Neuvillette, I have a question.” 

“What’s wrong?” Immediately, it felt like he was on the defensive.  The Iudex could not ascertain why, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood anxiously. 

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” you reassured, weakly clearing your throat, “I’m just curious about something.” 

Your words did little to quell his worries, but still, he nodded his head as if they did.  “What is it?”

Your limp arms rose from the bed, fingers weakly and clumsily fidgeting with one another.  “...Did you wait for me?” 

“Hm, I suppose I did.” 

It seemed his answer only caused your thumbs to twiddle more aggressively where they lay, “Well… Why?”

He went to answer, but like they seemed to be doing more and more today, they caught in his throat on the way out.  

Why had he waited? 

Had he meant to wait? 

Or was that just a product of his incessant work schedule?

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, just barely nipping at the skin with elongated fangs.  Ultimately, he settled for answering as truthfully as he possibly could, “...I didn’t see any reason to seek anyone else.” 

Your thumbs stopped fidgeting, fingers interlocking, “What do you mean?  Did  you not fear being alone?” 

He tilted his head to the side, “Did you ever fear being alone?” 

“...”

His body posture seemed to relax, “I had enough when I was with you, there was never any longing for something I felt I could not have again.”  

“That is…” You trailed off.  It seemed the words were lost in translation as you went to finish your thought.  The same tense silence settled between the two of you once more. 

“...”

“...”

“You… aren’t upset with me?”

The Iudex looked at you as if you’d grown a second head.  “What in the world could I be upset over?”

You averted eye contact, “I lied to you.  I told you I would not survive and then I turn up again as sick as a dog without much to show for it.” 

Neuvillette frowned himself, “You aren’t giving yourself enough credit.  You and Lady Furina managed to fool the Heavenly Principles and save the entirety of Fontaine, is that not something to be proud of?  Do you value your sacrifice so little?” 

“Of course I value my sacrifice!”  You countered, indignant.  Still, your voice lowered to little more than a murmur as you managed to spit out, “I’m afraid I just seem to value you more than that entirely.” 

His eyes, always imperceptibly sharp, seemed to soften just a little bit. 

“You might not realize, but while time seemed to pass here and things changed, giving up my physical body to maintain the seal on the Primordial Sea meant I was stuck without any senses.  It was such an incredibly lonely existence,”  Your eyes trained on your lap, “I did not expect to survive, and I was sure that even if I did survive, it wouldn’t be for long.  To be able to sit here even a month later is more than I allowed myself to hope for.”

“...”

“...So why is it that I feel that was a lie?”  Why is it that I hoped you would wait for me and I would be able to see you again?” Your expression dropped even further, “Why is it that I am still hoping you hold some kind of affection for me, even if I know it would be entirely foolish to love a man you expected to never see again?” 

“...”

“...”

Tentatively, his hand reached out to rest on top of your interlocked hands.  

You looked up to meet his gaze. 

“...If I still did?” 

You laughed, as forced as it sounded, “I would call you a fool.  A fool who is in love with a man that will likely take eons to recover, and even if I did manage to recover, I would only manage to remain a hollow shell of who I was.” 

His lips pulled into a tight line,  “I think you are the fool for once.”

You frowned. 

“You provide me with a feeling of wholeness that I have the inability to find with anyone else.  Whether you are the same as you used to be or weaker, bedbound, whatever you wish to call yourself, I will never be able to find that feeling with another.”  He squeezed your hands in his,  “You are indispensable, so fret not.  No matter how long you take to recover, I shall stay by your side every step of the way.”

there's a note attached to the side of the phone booth, read it?

" writers block tried to get me but it didn't work 💯💯💯 "

This is the longest its ever taken me to update I start banging my head against the wall

Constantly conflicted about writing and then feeling sad about not writing and suddenly, oh shit college !

I will say that once I fall into a rhythm updates will definitely become regular again but probably not as quick as they used to be. I fear I am no longer the man that can black out and publish 7.5k words of smut and or gay hurt/comfort every other day.

Aside from that I am good and well!!! Expect some more content from me in less than a month from now

I was considering doing a 200 follower special, but I fear that has been pushed off the table in favor of focusing on the long-form book I've been brewing up and planning.

Of course, I'll still be writing the requests I have in the queue, but the updates will probably be staggered with updates for the long form book

thank you, god bless 💯💯

- love, operator t-19

[drewdoa]

𒈔 ⸺ enforcer agenda ♡ viktor hcs/blurbs

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ a/n: hey there :)) happy new year!!! i’ve been gone for a little bit cause busy with family >.< BUT IM BACK WITH STUFF YAY!! i should be on my writing grind now that i’ll have spare time during school and such so i should be back to normal :D!! i hope you enjoy these blurbs cause they’re honestly my favorite

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ extra info: no gender specific reader!, a bit of flirtation, you’re in an enforcer uniform/gear, implied nsfw

ꕥ —

vik is so used to seeing people in uniform, but never in a billion years would he expect you to turn bluebelly! you’ve expressed before that enforcers make you feel some kind of way, you’ve seen what they’ve done to the people of zaun. however, caitlyn thought you could use some training incase something turned sideways. she suggested you train with the enforcers to learn a thing or two, which honestly isn’t a bad idea at all. so you took up the offer.

you knew viktor would get a kick out of this, you becoming stronger and in that heavy outfit. you could already hear his slick and funny comments in your head, teasing you and hints of flirting. at the end of the day, you still know he’d still have you arched like the bridge of progress.

rotting away in his lab as the sound of chalk scraping against his board travels around the sound waves. normally, viktor doesn’t bat an eye at the sound of the metal gear tapping across the halls nearby. until the sound of the tall wood doors that hide the lab cracked open, steps gradually getting louder. “you know, it’s just etiquette knocking before entering, don’t you agree?” viktor spat before turning his back and facing you. he stood there for a moment before placing down his pencil behind him.

“you-” he paused, relaxing his shoulders and taking the sight of you in. “look good. who gave you that?” the rest of his sentence flew out as he began to circle around you. “i got it from caitlyn’s closet, she surprisingly has bigger sizes but that’s probably cause of vi”

“no complaints here, it fits you perfectly” viktor follows with a laugh. this lead to you coming into his lab often when you’ve got some extra time on your hands. even if it’s just to go in there and give him a kiss :)) (where you kiss him is up to you😋)

he 100% pulls you in with his cane, especially when you’re stuck guarding the hallways and can’t be caught slipping. coincidently, viktor had a spare moment and dedicated it all to you. let’s just say when you were back on duty your uniform looked like you’d been roughing it ;).

oh you’d so catch him wearing the uniform cause it smells like you. he wants anything that resembles you at all. gotta out him here, definitely a pervert to take your underwear and stash it in a box along with all your other personal things. he just wants reminders of you all the time <3 (this is also foreshadowing him tying one of your old shirts around his cane :)))

no surprises when it comes to viktors hidden talents, he would definitely take a blank book and write all of his thoughts about you in it. he’d think of it as his prized possession, never leaving it out of his sight, and especially keeping it away from you. viktor couldn’t bare the embarrassment honestly, imagining you reading the filthy things he’s written about you sends a chill down his spine. but its viktor we’re talking about here, he’d probably enjoy that. <3

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ hello!!! i feel like this was just a bit short but i have a few fics i’ll be releasing as soon as im finished up with them ! you pt 2 in the works as well for all you viktor lovers just like me <33 and im working on expanding my writing and will be working on stuff for new characters >v< hopefully you can stick around till then, thank you for reading - drew

[daily-tma]

Hi :D! Your art is so pretty oddnjeksndndjdjd you’re wildly talented!! I was wondering if you could draw Annabelle Cane? I’m a little bit (very) obsessed with her lol (probably exactly what she wants) (really sorry if I broke a rule of etiquette for making art requests, I’ve never done this before!) (anyways, have a lovely day!)

Daily TMA 170 - Anabelle!!

[babyboywilson]

messy top lip kiss (how i long for our trysts)

also posted on ao3

Wilson was used to finishing his rounds on the oncology floor and seeing House already invading the space in his office like he owned the place. Sometimes he’d find House leaning on the wall right next to his office door- tapping his cane obnoxiously against the word ‘Oncology’ just because he could. Occasionally, if House was bored, he’d see the older man pacing at the end of the hallway between his own office and Wilson’s, like he was waiting for Wilson to decide between the privacy of his office or the glass dome of House’s space. It was a cat and mouse game that Wilson was used to after all these years.

But something about this was different. 

House was leaning against the wall by the janitor's closet between their offices; staring intently at Wilson as he approached. Wilson expected House to fall into step with him on the way to his office with some ridiculous demand that Wilson would pretend to fight over before caving like he always did. He’d left a bag of chips on the desk and he could already picture House snagging them and eating them before he’d get the chance to. 

What he wasn’t expecting as he walked past was the sudden movement of House’s cane to dart out; the handle of the cane snagging against his wrist, and pulling. Hard. The sudden yank threw off his equilibrium and caused Wilson to stumble from his pathway towards his office. An undignified sound slipped from his lips as he was pulled into the supply closet with a little more force than was strictly necessary. 

“House, what the hell are you doing?” Wilson hissed, rubbing absently at the ache that was blossoming in his wrist. “Is this some elaborate hide and seek you’re playing with the rest of your team? Because I have important paperwork I need to-”

House surged forward, pushing Wilson back into the shelving behind them and pinning the younger man in place. His cane clattered to the floor and his hand found purchase on the back of Wilson’s neck as he pulled Wilson into a hungry kiss. “Shut up,” House muttered against Wilson’s mouth before nipping at his lower lip. 

Whatever snappy comeback Wilson wanted to bite out quickly dissolved on his tongue as his hand found its way to House’s hip, pulling him closer. 

God dammit. House knew this was his weakness. Knew that Wilson would go along with anything House was planning with just a few hurried fervent kisses that always managed to leave Wilson speechless and dizzy. 

But he couldn’t give up the fight that easily. What would their lives be if Wilson didn’t push back just because he could? Even if House always ended up winning in the end. Half the fun was the chase, after all. 

“House,” Wilson gasped between kisses. “What are you-”

“Shut up,” House repeated, breaking the kiss and fumbling to undo the top button on Wilson’s shirt. 

“House,” Wilson said more urgently, hands shaking as he tried to loosen the knot of his tie so that House’s lips could kiss a burning trail down his throat. “Why…”

House tore his mouth away from Wilson’s neck, leaning back slightly in the dim light so he could glare at Wilson. “Do you want to waste time asking questions like ‘What are you doing?’ or ‘Why now when you’ve never made a move on me at work before?’. Or would you rather make out in the janitor's closet like horny teenagers?”

Wilson rolled his eyes. “Shut up and go back to shoving your tongue in my mouth.”

The smirk on House’s lips sent a fast heat racing up Wilson’s neck and across his cheeks. “That’s what I thought.” 

That look in House’s eyes could get Wilson on his knees blowing him in half a second flat. And he would- workplace etiquette be damned- except House was kissing him like there was no tomorrow and Wilson’s brain had completely short-circuited. 

It was easy to get lost in the kisses. The way House delved deeper deeper deeper into his mouth, as if he were analyzing and memorizing every millimeter of Wilson’s mouth and committing it to his memory. How he slowed down for just a few moments to allow Wilson to catch his breath before it was impossible to resist the magnetic pull between them and they were frantically kissing again. 

The air was filled with the sounds of breathless gasps and heavy kisses. Now that he knew House was on a mission, Wilson could actually keep up and plan his next move. He let House lead the kiss, letting House’s tongue lick across the roof of his mouth teasingly. When House made a move to pull back for air, Wilson chased after him, catching House’s mouth in a bruising kiss. 

Game on. 

House let out a groan of surprise, wobbling slightly at the change in pressure on his leg as Wilson pressed into his space. Wilson nudged House back and bracketed his arms on either side of House’s head, pinning him in place against the wall. Dropping a hand down, Wilson rucked up House’s shirt, seeking skin on skin contact. A low moan filled the air as House dropped his head back against the wall in pleasure.

With a smirk of his own, Wilson took the opportunity to seal their mouths together again.

It was agonizing torture to slowly ghost his lips against House’s, initiating the barest of kisses and then hovering just out of reach. Catching the shiver that raced down House’s spine, Wilson teasingly licked along House’s lower lip. House swore under his breath. Wilson grinned.

“Is this what you wanted?” Wilson said smugly as he ghosted a kiss against the corner of House’s mouth before backing away again. 

“Get on with it already. Your foreplay is horrendous,” House grunted. 

Huffing out a laugh, Wilson closed the gap and made sure to graze his lips over the pulse point in House’s neck; feeling the flutter against his lips as House’s heart rate kicked up. “You’re right. You’re not enjoying this at all.”

House opened his mouth, most likely to spit out some cutting retort, but Wilson cut him off by crashing their lips together and pushing his tongue into House’s mouth. Stroking his tongue over House’s as their lips fought for control always spurned a groan of approval from House, and today was no different. The shuddering moan that House let out was pressed into Wilson’s mouth and it sparked a burning desire deep in Wilson’s gut.

Licking his way along House’s tongue and then across the older man’s teeth, Wilson focused his attention on the way their lips melded together. The scrape of stubble against his jaw since House hadn’t shaved in almost a week. The way House was leaning up into the hand Wilson had shoved up his shirt, as if being kissed wasn’t enough and he needed more. 

And that just wouldn’t do. Not on Wilson’s watch. If House wanted to make out in the janitor’s closet then they’d make out. No need to cop a feel when he could get House to look wrecked and desperate with just his mouth on House’s. 

Pulling his palm away from House’s waist, he planted his hand back on the wall so he was bracketing the older man’s head again. House broke the kiss with a glare. “Bad foreplay is better than no foreplay at all.”

“Guess you’re outta luck then,” Wilson replied, and then he was kissing House again. Hurried desperate kisses that led to ragged shallow breaths. The slide of their mouths between pants, tongues dancing together before they broke apart, only to chase each other again moments later was intoxicating. Catching House’s lower lip between his, Wilson slowed the kisses down just so he could crack his eyes open and see the trembles that wracked through House’s body in anticipation. Then he licked his way back into House’s mouth and their lips were slotting together again.

Kissing House was always good, always something Wilson relished, but this was different. Adrenaline pumping, House’s hands in his hair, pulling their bodies flush together so he could rut against Wilson’s hip. 

This was ecstasy and Wilson never wanted it to end.

He couldn’t help the little breathy, needy gasps that burned up his throat and were pushed into House’s mouth. Dropping his hands from the wall, he scrambled to unbuckle House’s belt without tearing his mouth away from House’s.

Just as Wilson made a move to slip his hand into House’s pants, a loud beeping filled the air.

”You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” House hissed, fumbling to yank the pager out of his jeans to silence it.

“Don’t you need to-”

“No,” House said through gritted teeth, drawing Wilson back in by his undone tie and sealing their lips together again.

Wilson hesitated for a moment, but then House’s tongue was in his mouth and all thoughts of pagers and cases were gone. Falling back into frantic kisses, Wilson aligned House’s good leg between his thighs and the burning friction was back within seconds as they grinded against each other.

He’d barely managed to get his hands back down to House’s unzipped jeans before the pager was going off again. Biting back a choked off groan, Wilson dropped his head against House’s shoulder as House thumbed at the device. 

“There, that should…” House started to say, but his phone ringing shattered the moment.

“For the love of God,” Wilson muttered, pulling back and running a hand through his tousled hair.

House brought the phone to his ear. “Busy right now. Call back in 5.”

Wilson couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end of the phone, but he could hear the urgency in what he suspected was Foreman’s voice and knew that the game was over.

“Get her prepped for an LP. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Wilson drew in a shaky breath and released it slowly. “If you weren’t just as turned on as I am right now, I’d say this was your plan all along.”

Rolling his eyes, House muttered, “Oh yes, you got me, Wilson. I planned to jump your bones and then leave myself as blue balled as I left you.”

Wilson raised both of his eyebrows suspiciously. “That does sound like something you would do.”

House bent down to grab his cane, then zipped up his jeans as Wilson fixed his shirt and tie.

“Maybe next time you want to make out in the janitor’s closet, don’t do it in the middle of one of your cases.”

“Oh, so you’re expecting a next time, are you?”

Despite the absurdity of the entire situation, Wilson couldn’t help but grin. “Whatever your little plan here was, you didn’t succeed. Nor did you finish what you started. That’s going to eat at you for days.” Brushing his hair back into place with his fingers, Wilson took a step forwards to open the door. “But now I know what game you’re playing. And now it’s my move.”

[sozila]

chiaroscuro. (nanami x reader)

synopsis: as a princess, you had a duty to the country. to knight kento nanami, you simply were his everything.

pairing: personal knight!kento nanami x princess!fem reader.

warnings: 18+, mdni. eventual sexual descriptions.

masterlist | previous | next

you are on: realization. part one of three

a/n:

hello lovelies 🩷 i was watching my lady jane and immediately had an urge to write this, so here’s a knight nanami moment for you guys :) it’ll just be three parts, like a longer drabble if you will. enjoy!!

realization. (part one)

“princess, we really must make haste.”

the hydrangeas you were admiring were no longer sunlit with the long figured shadow cast behind you. you hum absently and continue down the ivy-stone pathway, your cream heels clicking softly. 

“another five minutes will not kill my father, kento.”

knight kento nanami had to hold back a sigh. he knew better than to believe you would simply do what you were royally asked of. granted he would never dare to oppose your highness, sometimes he wished he could advise you away from the uphill battle approach you so loved to choose. it was a bit of mental torture for the young man to silently bear witness as you pleased with no fear of consequence. despite it all, he admired your courage and resilience. you were a very tough woman with a strong heart. compassion that grew for miles and miles, you simply amazed him. that kind of care was rare in this world.

you couldn’t hear the man following behind you, but you developed a sense of knowing he was always there. my loyal shadow, you’d tease him. your nimble hands brush by the soft petals and leaves of the flowers as you take in the same gardens you’ve been seeing— no, binded to, since your birth. 

“a divine princess does not go on outings whenever she pleases!” your governess snapped, slapping her cold cane on your tiny wrists. hot tears welled in the corners of your eyes. “princesses do not show weakness, either,” she huffed and shakes her head at the sight of you as if you were some reckless, hair-brained animal. the memories of your early schooling were rarely pleasant ones. any and all curiosity you had was intended to be stomped out, replaced with knowledge about ballroom dance, fashion history, etiquette. these were the makings of a good, silent wife in the future, best for political marriage union. however, you were not an easy soul to shatter. if anything, the treatment encouraged you tenfold.

you come to a halt at a fully bloomed gardenia bush, dropping your head to inhale the spicy aroma. ironic. its alabaster skin symbolized purity, innocence, refinery— but smelled like pure freedom and rebellion to you. a smile graces your pristine face, head tilted to give your knight a cheeky side eye. 

“alright then kento, let us see to what father dearest requires of me.”

when you reach the king’s gentleman’s room, your father stands with two men you hadn’t seen before. one looked older than your father and the other rather youthful. platinum white hair caught your attention first, but were soon replace with his unusual eyes. they were the sharpest arctic blue you’ve ever seen in your life. they felt.. cold. unwelcome. you notice kento settle at the corner of the room to stand guard out of the corner of your eye, a silent spectator. 

“ah! come come, daughter. meet his royal highness king masako gojo and his son, prince satoru gojo.” 

your face blanches. sharp ringing infiltrating your ears and you couldn’t grasp anything anymore. you knew what was occurring in this very moment. 

like clockwork, you curtsy and bow to both nobles. the older king simpers, nodding in approval. “a quiet and obedient one. this alliance will go swimmingly,” he chortles and slaps the prince’s back, giving a whisper you didn’t miss. “easier when they don’t speak, eh?” his joke falls flat as the young man seemed heavily disinterested in taking part in his father’s misogynistic capers. 

kento’s jaw ticks, the grip on his sword handle tightening as he fought back the urge to beat the old man to a pulp.

the words didn’t miss your hearing. nose held high, you flash an icy smile and clasp your hands together to keep from slapping the ever-loving sense out of the greasy monarch yourself.

“quite the contrary, your highness. i just don’t interest myself in speaking to puny-minded individuals.”

a low chuckle was quickly masked with a couple coughs from the prince, while king masako’s face sported a blotchy red out of anger and embarrassment.

you father’s eyes flashed with harsh warning at you. your antics were borderline detonating and were no longer found trivial and silly by him. this was the future of the nation at stake, alongside securing your prosperity. he plasters a nervous smile on his face and continues despite your outward rudeness.

“i deeply apologize for my daughter’s behavior- she simply has a sharp tongue. dearest, you are to acquaintance yourself with the prince the next three months for it has been decided you shall marry to bring our kingdoms together in harmony. you should treat them with the utmost respect.” you scoff. how grand of your own kin taking the outsider’s side rather than defend your honor. the anger within you boils. “and when was this decided?” you say with a raised brow. your father looks a little exasperated. 

king masako grins his greasy smile once more and steps forward to meet your eye, looking down on you. “didn’t you know? this has been arranged since your birth.. and my son’s.” 

your blood runs cold. you knew that you were to be wed and that it was your purpose as this country’s princess, but to know you were just a prize pig? your whole life? and not a soul told you that you were promised from the beginning. you feel your mother’s absence in your childhood, your father’s transactional love. all pieces to the puzzle that finally clicked for you— you’re just a pawn.

you slam your palms on the oak table. “i am not getting married unless it is my will to do so,” you seethe at the men. prince’s lips quirk up at your boldness. how curious.

kento brows scrunch in concern as to how this will play out for you. you father doesn’t mask his rage this time around. “who said anyone will abide your will? you forget your place,” he shouts at you like you’re an insolent child. “no, YOU forget that i am crown princess of this nation and i can very well be the reason it burns to the ground!” you scream back with equal fervor. “you undeserving wench! get out of my sight. get out!!” your father’s voice shakes with intensity and angry tears threaten to spill but you refuse to let them see you weak. 

kento’s resolve wavers when he hears the nasty insult come from the king’s mouth. you, a wench? he hasn’t known his daughter a day in his life. kento, however, spent nearly every waking moment observing you, protecting you. he knew your mannerism and habits, what you wore and what you liked or disliked. he knew you liked reading history books and devouring sweet peach tarts. he knew your allergies kicked up when your room was freshly cleaned. he knew you dreamed and raved about wanting more than the closed life you lived, to travel and see the world, and then maybe, just maybe, settle into a small cottage farm with a garden you curated for yourself. more than anything, he knew you were the farthest thing from a wench. what a wretched word. he wanted to demand your father apologize, but that would be a most highest treason to oppose the king in such a manner. especially as a ranked personal knight. he holds back for your sake. 

your head snaps to the prince. “i would rather die before the chance you and i shall wed,” you spit at him before you march out of the room, kento in tow. as kento exits, you slam the crested door with finality. your heels carry you before you realize it and you’re running down the halls, dress flowing and eyes blurry. maids walking by look at you and whisper, a butler trying to stop you and ask if you are alright but you brush by, his efforts in vain. once you reach your room, kento begins to follow and you stop him, looking up with shiny eyes. “please leave me be, kento,” you whisper, tears trickling down silently. 

kento feels his heart squeeze painfully at the sight. he hated seeing you upset. it would take the most evil person in world to reduce you to such anguish and your father was just that. he wanted to comfort you, to selfishly hold you close and whisper sweet nothings to you as you cried your heart out. but he knew that that was his guilty want, and you wished to feel through this pain by yourself. hesitantly, he nods and steps back. you close the door and immediately crumple to the floor, your body wracked with sobs. you felt so alone and insignificant. 

in this moment, kento could do nothing but helplessly listen to you. 

you eventually cried yourself to tiredness. you fell asleep with dried tears stained on your cheeks, draped over your footboard bench in an odd angle. kento had turned away all servants at your door, but took a plate of tarts and water on a tray. he waited for the halls to empty, the night soon befalling. 

he quietly opened your door with tray in hand, walking in as stealthy as he usually carries himself. the moonlight shone from the large windows of your balcony onto your slumped figure. you looked positively ethereal. the remnants of your grief didn’t hinder your natural beauty. kento felt dirty to admit you almost looked beautiful with tears painted on your glass skin. he brushed the thoughts from his mind and set the tray down on your table. 

he wasn’t allowed to be in your quarters at this distance but he couldn’t bear not making sure you were alright. a breeze from the open windows blows in gently and he catches you shiver. he thinks for a moment and eventually decides to just do it — he carefully picks you up from the floor to put you snugly in to your bed. this action causes you to awake slightly. you stir, rubbing your eyes. kento looks down at you in his arms in surprise. you looked like a soft pretty lamb, he thought. 

“kento..? where.. where am i?” he walks around the bed to lay you down carefully, standing beside you. “your room, princess. you came in yourself, remember?” the memories of the day flooded back to touch and your expression turns grim. “ah.. yes. i’m so sorry you had to come in and take care of me.” kento shakes his hand dismissing your worry. “nonsense. this is my duty as your protector.” you offer a small smile despite your low feelings. “it is greatly appreciated.” 

silence falls between the two of you. kento is looking at you with deep thought- he’s trying to formulate his message in a way that wouldn’t be overstepping of him, but— 

“i want to run away.” 

“what?!”

i'm so sorry if this feels abrupt :( since this is going to be three parts i had to split it at equal lengths in events </3 but!! do not fret!!! the next two will be up shortly to make up for it ;) peace luv bathtub!

© sozila 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other mediums or sites. cross-posts on ao3 and tumblr under same alias.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Amendmends - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[Part II]

[contains vulgar language]

SUMMARY: When two of your thugs get into a fight at the Slat, you have to go apologize in person. The owner seems suspiciously happy to have you indebted to him.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.9k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

“You did what?!”

The two men flinch. Feeling too humiliated to look the incandescent bull in the eye, they resort to twiddling their thumbs and riveting their gazes into the cracked, wooden floor. They’re not greenhorns and neither are they unfamiliar with your character, so it’s unclear why they ever thought this confrontation would go in any way differently. Perhaps some juvenile naivety told them this moment would, simply, never come.

“We got into a fight,” one of them repeats. Fear makes his voice waver, resounding a lot quieter than the first time he announced their misdeed. The humiliation only gnaws further at his heart as the boy involuntarily relives all of the reprimands he had received from his parents.

His partner in crime lets out a defeated sigh. The man nudges his friend and whispers: “Come on, Sorokin, she’ll know anyway.” With a sour expression on his face, he lifts his gaze to look at the woman standing behind the desk. Your nostrils are flared as you breathe hard trying to maintain composure. The unfaltering scowl you wear so well makes him gulp. “We started a fight at the Slat. One of the patrons was cheating, wasn’t even doing it very well, so we thought it was our civic duty to put it to a stop.”

You lean forward ever so slightly, hinging on your arms. Although you’re in all ways smaller than them, it doesn’t affect their fright:  wolves, after all, also seem not as big when they're preparing to pounce. Words leave your mouth like venom slowly dripping from a viper’s fangs: “You have no fucking civic duty on the Crows’ turf, you bellend.”

“Boss, we-”

Sorokin immediately stops talking when you raise your hand in a quieting gesture. You close your eyes and clench the raised hand into a fist. Only after a slow, deep breath can you continue:

“Just shut your mouth while you still can move it freely. I don’t care for your excuses and promises to do better because I’m the one who has to go to Kaz Brekker and apologize on your behalf.” You push yourself away from the decorative, engraved desk. Unknowingly, you’re shaking your head, looking away from the two bullyboys for a moment. In a gesture of frustration, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Saints only know what he’ll want for giving up retaliation,” you say under your breath. A moment of tense, reflective silence goes by before your gaze returns to the two men. The scowl immediately reappears. “What’re you standing here for? Fuck off.”

With a flick of your wrist, the crooks bolt out the door, praising the Saints that they get to see another day. Maybe they are the ones scrubbing the floors pro bono for the next two weeks but at least they’re alive. Considering the genius loci of Ketterdam, that is as good as anything.

Jesper and Inej do not pay attention to the constant opening and closing of doors to the Slat - there’s no point. Their curiosity, however, is piqued when the noise of the lively club becomes muffled and cheering turns into low murmurs and grunts. Although positioned in completely different places, they simultaneously look towards the entrance, wondering what menace could strike reluctance into the heartless thugs of the Barell.

As expected as it wasn’t, considering the area, it’s a woman. In an utter lack of taste and respect for social etiquette, you’re dressed in rather expensive men’s clothing. You even have a decorative cane with a panther’s head on top, although the item is strangely short, suggesting that it’s more of a status symbol than a mobility aid. Golden accessories, proof of acquired wealth, glimmer in the low, yellow lights of the club. 

“Should we do something?” Inej whispers to Jesper, making him flinch in surprise. Really, how is she doing it time and time again?

“No way, Inej,” he laughs dryly at the notion. “It’s the Golden Panther herself. We’ve no bad blood with her and let’s hope it can stay that way.”

The name isn't in any way the stranger's own incentive - only what the victims saw right before being knocked out cold: golden, heavy rings and a black tattoo of a roaring panther on the back of your hand. Some of the more egotistic goons in Ketterdam try to mimic the artwork with other supposedly dangerous animals but it never has the same ominous feeling.

“Then why is she walking straight towards us?”

His gaze returns to the unexpected guest. Inej is right - in an unbothered stroll, you’re making your way to them. When the Panther’s stern, cold gaze meets his, the man feels anxiety building up in his chest. If Kaz had a sister, that would be her. In any other circumstances, he’d laugh at that thought but with the fiend in front of him, humour has somehow fled.

Jesper slowly puts down his drink, his other hand mindlessly resting on top of the revolver behind his belt. “I don’t know but I don’t like this.”

Inej scrunches her nose. "I always imagined it’s a man."

"Well, I thought she'd be, you know, bigger,” Jesper says in a hushed voice. The Slat is strangely quiet and you’re sure to hear his comment if he speaks any louder. “Considering Panther and all."

You stop in front of them. Physique-wise, you don’t seem very threatening to either of the Crows. No, it’s something in the air, as though your presence elicits some kind of aura that makes people want to flee from sight, noisy lowlifes become as meek as sheep. Jesper wonders if this is how aristocrats and politicians feel when someone mentions the Queen of Beggars.

Golden Panther looks between the two of them. In an unexpectedly polite fashion, both of your hands are holding the decorative cane. After a moment, your gaze stops on Jesper. You look him up and down but he’s unsure whether he should feel threatened or flattered.

“You’re the one who got into that fight yesterday, aren’t you?” you finally ask.

Oh, that.

Jesper grips the gun tighter. “Yeah, that would be me.”

You put your hand into the pocket of your dress trousers, apathetic eyes still set on him, and pull out a wad of banknotes. Without looking at them, never even thinking to count the amount, you lay it next to his drink on the bar counter.

“For the trouble. Buy yourself something nice. Where’s the owner?”

“In his office,” Jesper answers with a vague motion of his hand.

With a curt nod of your head, you leave the two Crows to find the man you’ve been truly looking for. When you’re out of earshot, the stairs creaking under your weight, Jesper turns to Inej:

“Did I just get pocket money from Lady Belladonna?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“I’m afraid you did.”

Immediately, he grabs the wad of cash, counting the banknotes. His eyes only grow wider as the stack of 50s doesn’t seem to end - Jesper Fahey is suddenly something of a rich man.

You don’t knock. The door swings open and Kaz is about to tell off anyone who’s disturbing him when he notices you standing on the threshold. Without a word of either warning or welcome, he grabs his cane. Twisting off the top of your staff, you pull the accessory slightly apart, revealing a sharp blade hidden inside.

“Show me yours, tough guy. Bet mine’s bigger,” you jest. Then you close the cane and Kaz, although hesitant, lets go of his. “I come in peace.” 

“What brings you here?” he asks impatiently.

You take a deep breath and sigh. The chair in front of him is left vacant but considering the reason for your visit, it would be impolite to sit around. “I’d like to apologize.” Kaz raises his eyebrows in surprise. He knows the business well enough to know that people of your sort don’t adhere to courtesy often. “The fight that broke out yesterday? My boys. They weren’t supposed to be here but that doesn’t change anything. What’s done is done and since they wear claws around their necks, they’re my responsibility.”

For a moment you look away, biting the inside of your cheek. It’s the right thing to do but Saints’ mercy, is it humiliating. Kaz doesn’t say anything, curious anticipation egging him to let the tense silence squeeze the truth out of you.

You look at him again. The anger of having to fawn on someone makes you tighten the grip on your cane. "I can pay you for the damages but I can't undo the injuries or the fucking headache. Instead, I'm offering you my service. One job, no matter how bloody insane, I'll do it. Just leave my boys alone."

Kaz sits back in his chair, taking in the fascinating turn of events. In all of your demimonde courtesy, you’ve done exactly what he had expected you to do. You swear there’s a shadow of a grin creeping unto his face and that’s when you realize you’ve probably manoeuvred yourself into a problematic, inescapable corner. If half of the stories they say about him are true, you’re going to shake hands with death herself in the nearest future, probably more than once.

A scoff flies past your lips. You look at him through squinted eyes but he doesn’t seem to mind that. Why would he? He just scored a jackpot without stepping out of his office.

“I know that look, Brekker,” you stress the sudden lack of courtesy. “You’ve been waiting for this moment your whole fucking life, haven’t you? The Golden Panther at your beck and call.”

“There is one job that will utilize your methods,” he puts a strange, although meaningful stress on the word, “but it’s nothing sure for now.”

He plays his cards well. So well, in fact, that you can’t tell whether he’s honest or bluffing. The only thing you are sure of is that if he lives up to his name, Kaz is bound to have some kind of ace up his sleeve, even if it’s unadulterated rage - he will either find or create a problem for you to solve, never as much as entertain the thought of passing up on your offer.

There is simply no way that a man of his skill and expertise doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. Like those miserable churchgoers praying to the Saints for a sign, you too now have to obediently await the fateful word of Kaz Brekker. You’re a fiddle and through your own goodwill, you have appointed him a fucking virtuoso.

“I’ll be anticipating your word, Brekker,” you grit the last bits of politeness through your teeth. “In the meantime, don’t try to think about me too often. Might neglect your business and the panther…” your voice trails off and you shrug with faux innocence, “The panther only needs to find you once.”

“It’s a bold assumption that I spend any minute of my time thinking about you.”

“Well, you’re doing it now, aren’t you?” The cocky smile on your face only annoys him. “До свидания,” you throw while vaguely saluting at him.

When the door shuts behind you, Kaz lets out a frustrated sigh. You’re going to make this whole operation incomparably easier for him - that is, if he doesn’t kills you first. For the sake of his sanity.

[c0rvidfagg0try]

Phoenix Wright Disabled Headcanons:

ADHD king literally the evidence is everywhere in the game

Constantly tapping his fingers and biting his nails cuz of it

Always has silly bandaids on his fingers (bought for Pearl but he uses them mostly)

Has POTS as well as chronic Back and Knee/Leg Pain (since childhood but exacerbated by physical trauma)

Gets hot/cold really easily from POTS so hes always taking his jacket on and off

Always putting his feet on his desk while he reads case files and everyone thinks hes just doesnt really care abt office etiquette (partially true) but its more for his POTS and leg pain

Paces behind the defense bench so his legs dont get as stiff

Also has chronic migraines (caused by the poison)

Usually gets them right after a trial wraps up due to his adrenaline crashing and the stress

Also gets POTS/pain flare ups then too

Partially the reason why he doesn’t take as many cases is cuz he needs time to rest

Standing in court and biking around to investigate takes it out of him

Asthma/lung and throat trauma (from eating glass)

Uses a cane sometimes but doesn’t like to

Feels like it makes him seem weak

In an effort to get him to use it more Maya and Pearls decorate it wish silly stickers (it works)

Wears braces more often tho

Also uses an inhaler (needed it more eight after the incident but doesnt need it as much now)

(Always keeps an inhaler on hand though)

Asthma gets a lot worse when he gets sick and it can take months for his throat to recover

Has had depression since everything w/ Dahlia and it gets kicked into high gear during the 7 yr gap

Maya, Miles, and Trucy force him to see a therapist (Miles pays for it)

(Phoenix doesnt think he needs it so hes only going becuz he doesnt want to waste Miles’s money)

Major medical trauma (very cautious about food/drinks and cannot take cold medicine)

Can’t stand hospitals cuz they remind him of when he had to get the glass taken out

Needs someone go go with him to the doctor so he has someone to care for him afterwards (calm him down, make him eat, drive him home) since he usually has a panic attack

When he has a really bad day (whether that be mental or physical) Trucy will call Miles and he’ll drop everything to come take care of Phoenix

Usually this involves a massage, advil, and a bath bomb (and just Miles’s company)

(I like to imagine gets him some advil immediately and then he helps Phoenix into a bath and rubs his legs or neck for a little bit and then when he’s done he just sits on the floor next to the tub and reads a book while Phoenix relaxes)

(And then after he helps him get in bed, orders Phoenix’s favorite Thai food, rubs some soothing gel on whatever hurts, and then both of them and Trucy snuggle up and watch a movie of Phoenix’s choice (usually Legally Blonde) til he passes out)

[rulerzreachf4n7]

Idk why proshippers can't do their shit in private cause they're genuinely the biggest attention seekers on Tumblr

Like no one is making you, no one is forcing you, no is holding your family hostage and the only way you can get them back is by going on Tumblr and express how much you wanna see a toddler get raped or share to people that pedophilia is hot

Like for me, I have hypersexuality and intrusive thoughts that are also sexual, meaning that although I'm against it my mind keeps on insisting that "I WANNA GET RAPED BY A 40 YEAR OLD MAN" or something like in the middle of school

You could argue saying "B-BUT PROSHIPPERS ARE THE SAME!!!111!!1 🥺🥺" the reason they do what they do is because they lack all the social and self awareness, they have no media literacy or social media etiquette, you could also argue that they're kids but most proshippers are 13+ lowest being 10, it's also scientifically proven that once you become a teenager you are the most self conscious and aware you will ever be, and also the obvious grooming and normalization of problematic topics through proshipping has also made them what they are

Do I share my hypersexuality and past porn addictions on the internet and make it my entire online personality? NO, cause I have the brain cells and self awareness to know that this shit would lead me to get harassed or threatened IF I made it seem like it was romantic and hot to have a porn addiction and hypersexuality, LIKE PROSHIPPERS, THEY ROMANTICIZE THEIR OWN TRAUMA!!!

SO THAT'S WHY YOU KEEP IT PRIVATE AND ONLY BRING IT UP IF SOMEONE IS ASKING A GENUINE QUESTION OR IMPORTANT TO A POST...AND IF YOU GENUINELY NEED HELP DON'T DO IT IN A WAY WHERE PEOPLE ARE GOING TO HARASS AND THREATEN YOU CAUSE ITS VERY EASY TO SAY,

"Uhm hey I'm *insert name* and I need help recovering with proshipping and other past sexual trauma(s) so I'm going on the internet to see if people cane help me :)"

SEE NOT THAT FUCKING HARD