Roll for constitution...

Just a snzblr recluse in my isolated wizard tower (23) (Minors dni) sick/snz blog Directory COMMISSIONS ALWAYS OPEN :> DnD ocs here, occasional other stuff (cardio/tickling/furry/gt), thats pm it IF YOU RECOGNIZE ME NO U DONT!! Im so embarrassed if you do, literally never bring it up fr

[just-a-nervous-bean]

I'm just gonna scrap the directory page and make it a post!!

(This is because I can't turn off searching without nuking the directory page. Sorry for the inconvenience everyone) ;w; pls tell me if links are broken, I'll fix accordingly)

HEY ALSO!!! IF YOU SEE THIS FROM MY MAIN (bub/blyern/ie) THEN NO YA DIDNT!!!

DIRECTORY!

Hello! Here is a tag list, FAQ, and other things you may need to know!

• This is a sneeze/sick/whump blog primarily (yeah its weird but man are you living life if you don't have some weird kink)

• Occasional other interests include cardio/tickling/furry/gt stuff but those are far and few in between

• I’m 23!! I’m here to have fun and make content for the community, please be respectful of that when sending things to my inbox! It’s first come first serve usually, pls be patient! Keep it classy, take it sleazy! 

• She/Her/He/Him, just a little freak who just likes to draw hot elves and middle aged men

• Also im 100% a recluse wizard in my cool wizard tower and im very introverted and kinda shy so if you want to talk to me feel free to reach out first!! im real chill w one on one :>

• Minors are absolutely BANNED!! Not allowed :( sorry but go elsewhere

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FAQ (and tag list below):

What content can I expect to find here? DnD and Modern DnD and historical-ish fiction!! :3 hope you like noir detectives. Writing and art usually

Do you take RQs? I try to! Commissions are the only guarantee though. Most RQs in my inbox I will get to (I try) in the form of writing or a drawing. Link to my comm info (or DM me!)

Do you do fanart? Few and far in between (I don’t want normal non-kink blogs getting to em!)

Can I DM you? Absolutely! please be civil

Where else can I find you? My main is bubb/lyernie (without the slash, I just wanted to censor my user) as well as my instagram. DM for my discord!

Do you RP? I mean….kinda? DM me lmao

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For you fun furry fellas, here’s my FurAffinity (there’s stuff that’s really explicit btw, heads up)

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Tag Directory (the fun stuff) (might be broken cuz tumblr settings)

Didn’t put any sneeze/sickfic related tags bc the majority is already….that. Many tags are missing bc it took me 5 years to make a damn directory. tws and cws will be #tw (subject) or #cw (subject)

– General – 

#oc posts hhh - OC related art or writing

#bean draws - art posts of anything

#bean writes - writing posts of anything

#should i have a furry tag - its usually anthro vers. of my ocs

#whump - injury related whump. I usually do not tag emotional whump

#tickling - tickle related stuff

#cardiophile - heartbeat related stuff

#g/t - size diff stuff

– OC specifics (THESE ARE ONLY TAGGED FOR FICS)–

Tagged according to the subject of said sickness/snz/whump etc

#thalin - Thalin, drow noble, for y'all into dramatic fancy mfs

#winnie - Winnie, wood elf ranger, strong girl, farm. tough as grits

#erril - Erril, half-elf cottage core, cultist himbo. real soft real dumb

#fhadrii - Fhadrii, genasi, angsty librarian

#alphonse - Alphonse, dnd eladrin barbarian, jock, great for those into hunks

#biddley - Biddley, gritty noir detective, he's got a flapper lady and a cool edwardian wife with him (they're a polycule). he's NOT in the dnd OR modern setting, an outlier, and shouldn't be counted?

#milo - Milo, living statue bard/street artist, extrovert to Charlie's introvert

#charlie - Charlie, dnd charcoal earth genasi, introvert to Milo's extrovert

#otto - Otto, warforged (sometimes human??) 1950s talk/radio show host type!

#cam - Cam, snobbish changeling theatre actor. Grade A shithead

#tooke - Tooke, borrower stagehand, he's a little guy >:3

I have other posts of other ocs i forgot to tag OOPS but their names are Haylia (angel) whos usually accompanied by Aldean (demon). Plus like 100 oneshots of misc. ocs i never write about more than once

– Fandom specifics – 

jokes on you, don’t look at my fandom stuff, its embarrassing!!!

#g/ood o/mens - …..take a guess pal

#c/rit r/ole - ………..take another guess

#h/ades - third time’s a charm

— Other —

#pocket full of posies - multi chapter 1930s fantasy detective fic

#morbid curiosity and the gossips - multichapter 1900s date

#act the part - 4 chapter d/s romantasy contagion fic (wow)

#sicktember: 2021 / 2022 / 2023 / 2024 / 2025

#12 Days 2023

#gargantuary 

#Beans Kinktober

[just-a-nervous-bean]

AN: 1500 words!! OH JOY AND WHIMSY!! I LOVE MY SILLY NOIR DETECTIVE!!! 😭 i miss u babygirl (48 year old man) also conquering my fear of writing SWH by putting him in an old timey phone booth on the line with @quosterking's Rashun. love these two freakos

On the Wire

“Number please?”

“Cortex 4856.”

“Connecting you!”

Jesus Christ, he was soaking wet. Biddley wrung out his sleeve into the puddle soaking his shoes at the bottom of the phone booth. It was pouring outside, which is awful weather to be tailing someone in…

There weren’t many people around, that's for sure, and the ones that were out here were rushing by under umbrellas. It’s why losing the trail was so insulting! How’d he lose one of the five people outside of their house this night? The weather had lessened to a drizzle, but an eerie fog had made up for the lack of visibility. 

He sighed, wrapping a damp coat around himself. He didn’t take the car — idiot — because following someone on foot would be more conspicuous, and he didn’t want to be mistaken for a taxi. Didn’t think about the possibility of bad weather until he was already out and stuffing Polaroids into his jacket. This guy was accused of taking a fat cut of money out of his business partner…a business partner who was found dead not long after. Biddley had a soft spot for taking cases for widows; it’s probably why he was out this long. 

“Hello?” Came a voice over the phone.

“Rashun! For God’s sake!”

“God’s sake what? I can hardly hear you! Speak up, old boy…”

“Thought the phone would never stop ringing,” Biddley muttered, looking around as Rashun scoffed in disbelief. It was dark as hell out, save for a street lamp. He swore he saw something moving around in the edge of the light, “It’s raining…any chance you got it in you to drive?”

“Where are you now?”

“Hmm, corner of Leeway and and Providence…”

He couldn’t see the street signs in this weather but knew roughly where he was. The phone booth provided momentary shelter, even if it was in the dark, away from the reach of the street lamp.

“Right...There’s a diner a block down. I’d hate to ask, but if you are calling me from some phone booth, you are likely going to leave to make the walk to wait for me, I assume? Unless you’re feeling bold enough to stay there…”

“I’ll make my way…how long will you be?”

“I can aim for twenty. Or- perhaps twenty-five. Low traction and low visibility.”

“Fine— I-“

Biddley cut himself off. The phone shifted, pressed tight against his cheek. He breathed once into the mouthpiece but stopped. A crackle. 

“…Biddley?”

“Shh!”

He caught a shadow from the corner of his eye: someone milling about near the street lamp. From his vantage point, there was a car in front, blocking out a majority of the light, but he saw a figure appear, wielding an umbrella and emerging from the darkness. They snuck into the backseat, illuminated by the street lamp. 

He heard Rashun on the other end. A faint buzz of electricity as his breathing crackled through the wire. 

“Spotted my man…”

“Where?”

“Right in front of me. I recognized his hat…He’s getting out.”

He did. In a change of clothes. Biddley could tell by the silhouette as they slipped out. Something was in his hand. A shovel of some kind? Or a wrench…?

He gently set down his arm, resting it against the booth’s small counter for stability. Last thing he wanted to do was make himself known and startle this guy. Discretion is key…

Water dropped from his hair and crested his cheek. Another slid down the side of his nose and pooled around the curve of his nostril. He was holding his breath to keep still and instinctively exhaled.

“Rashun…” 

“Yes?” Replied quietly, “I’m going to keep quiet so long as you whisper first.”

“He’s picking a lock to some building…snf! Uhh, I think red brick. Or dark, at least…”

“Noted…”

“Huhh…khrmm!”

He delicately pressed a knuckle to his nose. The man had taken out his tools and began to fiddle around with the front door of this supposed red-brick building. Biddley saw him lift his head as he cleared his throat and immediately swallowed to prevent a cough. 

“D-Damn-“

“Everything alright, s-“

“Hh—mMPF!’dSSCHhh!! Huh!rRRSChhh-!!”

Biddley opened his eyes in time to spot the man tense, look up, then pivot his head. In the booth, he remained perfectly still, the wet gabardine lapel of his coat smothered over his face, the phone earpiece still up. Rashun was silent on the other end. He heard a hesitant breath, which indicated a question, but he couldn’t risk an answer. The crook’s gaze passed right over him; he felt it, like a lighthouse beam catching a stationary vessel, unacknowledged. His nose was running from the sudden disturbance — curses, he’d broken it too many times for it to just stay idle! The muffled sneeze had done something to the healed-over fracture that grazed his nerves, and he found himself biting his lip in hopes of staying still. 

His head turned away. A sneeze was painfully stifled between his thumb and forefinger, numb from the cold rain. Pain shot between his eyes. He hated stifling. That’s what a broken nose gets you. It itched still, and he was forced to muffle another, head dipping in a violent but thankfully silent jostle. 

After the third, he gulped down some air and squinted to find that the man had stood. 

“Hhf—“

“Biddley-“

“Sh!”

His voice was sharp. Breath whistling over the old, rattly wires in a distorted crunch on the other end. 

“HhdH!hHNGkksshhh!! Hah…Jesus…”

His stomach rolled to his throat, seeing the man take a few steps back and eye the streetlamp.

A few steps closer.

Biddley reached into his coat and felt the warm grip of his revolver. A car rolled by on the main street, and the rushing sound of water and rain hitting its roof provided a decent enough cover for the noise. 

“Hh—!hrssSSCHHhff!!”

Fuck. He blinked back tears. He barely moved, staying positively still save for a deeply repressed jolt of his head. One could only hope the minimal light didn't give his position away. Smothering his nose hurt like the devil. The man had skittered back in fear of being spotted by the random driver and ducked into the open door. A light inside flickered on for a moment, then off. 

Hm. 

No nearby buildings. Seemed like a storefront. Maybe roof access…

Biddley shakily brought the mouthpiece back with a wet, sniffly exhale. 

“Rashud…”

“Thank goodness you’re alive.”

“I’ll meet you in half ad hour. Going to figure out what’s up with this guy…’n get the law on the line. A little breaking and entering, nothin’ big. On standby.”

“You’re going in after him?”

“I’ve got a hunch. Somethi’g tells me he’s here to tie up loose ends, if this is his place of business.”

“See in you a bit, then. Keep well. Don’t do anything foolish. And for the love of God, sir, don’t sh-“

He hung up with a scrub under his nose and another sniffle. 

Oh. Wait. Bother! He fished around his pockets, hoping to find another dime, but he only dug out a sopping wet cigarette and a set of house keys. He was going to ask Rashun to bring him a dry handkerchief. Oh well. Wouldn't be worth the time.

He exited the phone booth and breathed in the smell of rain on wet concrete before slipping in through the open door.

-------

The most the fuzz would find by the time they arrived was a man tied to the handrail of the stairs, a suitcase of stolen bills laid open at his feet, and a single photo neatly in front of it of an older, more horrific crime scene. On the back, a number to a private investigator's office, one that the men at the precinct would know well enough. 

A street over, in a diner, Biddley had wrung out his coat (to the owner’s distaste) and was drying his hair with the napkins at a booth seat. A plate of mostly eaten pie sat in front of him, sentineled by a few used tissues. He blew his nose only to sneeze again.

“Unsure that isn’t a broken nose at this point, going out in the rain all the time- Paying at his expense?” Rashun pointed as Biddley thumbed over the only dry thing he had on his person. Just a few bills from a recently collected folder of documents and photos, enough to cover a single order of dessert and two coffees.  

“Considering it as a bonus. I’ll invoice the boys if they call.” 

He watched as Rashun ran a few numbers through his head. 

“Hardly ethical.”

“And I’m no Saint Mary. You want a coffee before we head back?”

Rashun answered with a nod and a shrug, and Biddley raised his hand to the tired waiter at the till. Another case closed.

[just-a-nervous-bean]

DO NOT SHARE THIS TO NON SNZ BLOGS LMAOOO

Writing my second campaign and thinking how 2/4 of the BBEGs are doomed ancient sorta age gap (except the younger one is older…yay fantasy) yuri between a medieval “I can fix her” paladin angel and a “I can make her worse” warmonger witch demon. You guys miss Aldean and Haylia?? bc they’re doomed yuri now and I’ll be making that angel sneeze like it’s nobody’s business…

(I say yuri, they’re literally genderless concepts crafted by humanity)

Also it’s extra hot bc it’s one ancient ass angelic creature who looks like she’s 25 and her coterie of evil also ancient 40+ looking hot witchy horsemen of the apocalypse. I can post about my campaign here bc if my players find it I’m already fucked LMAO

For your evil lesbian polycule viewing pleasure

- Haylia, Cherubim messager pigeon (Hermes/white dove incarnate), Angel of death

- Adeline “Rook” Barnett, Witch of the crossroads, also a were Tabaxi black cat, horsewoman of war

- Basalt/The Black Death, literally just a million parasites in a human/dragon trench coat, horsewoman of pestilence and conquest (mad biologist scientist. We like evil women in stem)

- Stryxanna Velesueries, First Lady of necromancy, also an extremely prolific woman in stem (biomechanics), vampire!!!, horsewoman of famine

Ugh they’re all so hot. They can all make one angel worse and she believes so tragically (and incorrectly) she can fix them

[just-a-nervous-bean]

If ppl have fics about either PHM or AKOTSK, please send them my way!! I recently watched both and I’m yearning

[just-a-nervous-bean]

Errr kinda BDSM/sexual talk but not explicit TW/CW

Microdosing telling people about my weird fetish for the first time irl outside of the community by telling some guy I met thru my local kink scene that i have a niche non sexual fetish that is so obscure but not intense but I have a phobia of it so I can never engage and saying he’ll never guess it. Then hearing him stew on it like “I’m going to try not to think about it bc if I do I’ll be trying to guess it forever”. This is after we both did crazy rope work with each other and I learned how to choke and get choked for the first time. Also got gagged. I’m telling you this is my hoe era

And also we both agreed we have fetishes that are better left as fantasy bc engaging in it IRL will make it not as good, if not ruin it forever. But who knows. Sighs. Chronicling my like…weird side quests

[just-a-nervous-bean]

Deadass how do people in kink spaces bring up this kink. It’s so outta left field. I don’t think I ever will but like…hypothetically. Like. How do you even rip that bandaid off.

[just-a-nervous-bean]

Errr kinda BDSM/sexual talk but not explicit TW/CW

Microdosing telling people about my weird fetish for the first time irl outside of the community by telling some guy I met thru my local kink scene that i have a niche non sexual fetish that is so obscure but not intense but I have a phobia of it so I can never engage and saying he’ll never guess it. Then hearing him stew on it like “I’m going to try not to think about it bc if I do I’ll be trying to guess it forever”. This is after we both did crazy rope work with each other and I learned how to choke and get choked for the first time. Also got gagged. I’m telling you this is my hoe era

And also we both agreed we have fetishes that are better left as fantasy bc engaging in it IRL will make it not as good, if not ruin it forever. But who knows. Sighs. Chronicling my like…weird side quests

[just-a-nervous-bean]

finished my long ass fic series after 4 months :P time to write detective hijinkssss

[just-a-nervous-bean]

Tackling the trope that evades me. SWH. Got something good for y’all

[just-a-nervous-bean]

finished my long ass fic series after 4 months :P time to write detective hijinkssss

[snzzzzz420]

guys is this anything or did i waste my time. Did i eff up the order things should be and did i miss something Huge. Let me know. Also has someone made this before ?

[gentle-sniffles]

[quosterking]

ALL MY JARS KEEP BLOWING UP

[just-a-nervous-bean]

tossing my hat into the ring 😔✌🏼

[just-a-nervous-bean]

Idk if you’ve been watching the newest season of I/WTV but in the last episode Armand mentions being able to send a person into a coughing fit and I fear I’ve gone insane with that info because that implies he can induce people with his mind ohohohohoooo him just absolutely torturing Daniel or even using the power on himself?!!🫪

Dawg thats absolutely fire I love devils minion!!!! Also taking this moment to say I have not and I’m waiting for the entire thing to be out and I’m trying to go in spoiler free LMAO (ya girl doesn’t have the streaming serviceeee)

[just-a-nervous-bean]

Any Thalin and Erril thoughts lately? I was recently reminded of them and wondered if you had any extra bits about them

EHEHE always :3 as odd as it is erril is such a default for me that whenever I need to draw something for a character it ends up being him.

In recent times with my campaign I just wrapped up and also my graphic novel, Thalin and Erril have become such poster children for my dnd stuff :P I’m returning to a love of them in their actual setting of like fantasy and magic and stuff, and especially erril adventuring solo. He’s such a token adventurer — built for the mountains, vagabond, cleric, pension for nature…weirdo cultist.

Thalin is always the same in my head bc he was never the protagonist; like his arc was done from the start. It’s what I love about him bc as an elf he’s such a good vessel for putting things into perspective. And on the more surface level of things he’s just fun. Like a gothic French dandy fish out of water socialite is just pure fun.

Idk if the extra bits you’re hoping to get were like if I had new projects involving them (alas, I don’t) or snz related (nothing that hasn’t been said before ;w; at least not in general) :0 but if u had smth in mind feel free to specify hehehe they are my favourite dolls to play with

[just-a-nervous-bean]

AN: OMG IS THIS IT??? Part 7?? The final chapter to this super duper long series of fics >:) yes!! thank you for waiting everynyan!

Here's my masterpost! 5150 words (wow). Surprisngly, this one is like...light on the fucking, heavy on the hurt n comfort. In fact, its 100% SFW, only a MENTION of horny, but otherwise whump while jousting and light homoerotic banter :,) and pining. sigh!!! i love jousts, theyre so dramatic and stupidly dangerous. oh warning for mess, also!

also alternative doodle hehehe (dawg helmets are so hard to draw)

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A Knight's Court - Chapter 6 - The Knights in Red, Green, Blue.

A whimper and a moan. And the creaking of wooden furniture against the floor. After dinner was had, these were the sounds emitting from Courtney’s room. Their guests had been shown to their quarters, and that left plenty of time for her to wrap up her own business. 

Elanos was tied up by his arms to her heavy wooden desk, legs kicked outwards, stupidly, as she stood over him. His head dipped toward her thigh, and she sighed, feeling his hot breath against her leg. 

“Such a long day for you, wasn’t it?” Courtney muttered, stroking his cheek, “I hope you rest well. It kills me to not be able to…properly show my affection.”

It’s true. To have her fall sick would raise eyebrows; there'd be scandal! Rumours abound! A noblewoman spending too much time, too intimate, with her hired sword…

No, much to both their disappointment, she was forced to only use her hands to comfort him as he sat there, looking sullen. 

“I…if I sneeze anymore I’m going tiHH—hHIH!!’etsSSHHyihw!…to lose my voice…” He said hoarsely. It was starting to become unflattering, the amount of grit in his voice. That lack of etiquette made her cheeks feel hot. Courtney had rubbed menthol over her knee, and it seemed to be clearing him up enough to sleep, at the cost of post-nasal drip in his throat. He struggled against his bindings: a rope that hugged his chest and tightened the form of his lean shoulders as he ducked to sneeze again, “hhd–hHAHPTSCHHhihw!!…snfk. Udh…”

"Maybe that would be fine. How often does a knight speak while in uniform?"

Being tied was more or less for his sake. She must’ve taken up an issue with his posture, slouching at the tail end of dinner, or…maybe he was running around too much, not right by her side where she needed him. How he tossed himself forward with every drastic outburst, bending at the hip. It wasn’t like he couldn’t stand upright; it just felt better not to. That’s what Elanos figured.

Guess he was reaping what he sowed. He shuffled his legs again to rid them of an itch. A whimper came from him as his head was tilted back. 

“I’ve been meaning to take a look at you. I spent the earlier parts of the day figuring out some kind of cure to resolve this. Never was much of a potioneer, but I’d be damned to let Nortello figure this out on his own…” Courtney sighed. She put her fingers under his eye and under his brow, inspecting the way his pupils steadied as she forced his eyes open. Then, looking at his lip, with her hand gripping his chin, up his nose and just below his ear, “You’re still running warm…”

“Did you succeed?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. But…I don’t think I will administer it. I would rather not risk your performance tomorrow. You can have it then.”

He watched her reach over to her desk, where a spell book and several papers fluttered aside at her command. A single vial of rich, navy blue liquid sat in a small cubby, which slid to her fingertips. She wiggled it and watched the opaline silt fill the liquid. 

“So I am to wait…”

“Well. Yes. You would. You can handle a cold for another day, can't you? I have confidence you won’t let it interfere with how well you do.”

“Of course…”

He tried to swallow his disappointment. It wouldn’t be a very good night’s sleep if he were going to be breathing like this, all crackly and wet. He felt his nose drip against his raw throat again and coughed. Was he — and the rest of the court — just kidding themselves with how this won't sully his performance?

“Now, in the meantime…” She said with a sigh, “I just want to make sure you’re not going to abscond-” 

“I wouldn’t!” 

“-when I finish this up,” She chidded teasingly. Elanos slouched and nodded. 

“Open, please?”

He opened his mouth, and she looked down his throat. He resisted a gag as she stuck some kind of instrument against his palate before closing his mouth. It was stuck into the vial and stirred around before she recapped it and put it in her pocket. 

“IhH-” Elanos gasped, and the desk creaked again as he strained, “HHDT! Hhd’tssccHhhihhwww!!...nmh…”

“Here…” She extended towards him a small handkerchief. He could smell the lingering scent of menthol, “Just a few more, and I’ll let you off to bed.”

She wasn’t about to let him use it on his own, not with his hands bound. He dipped his head. There was a certain shameful pride in fulfilling her wishes, no matter how obscure. No matter how much it caused his physical discomfort…

-------

By the time he’d woken and dressed, he’d forgotten much of the night before: sneezing at least a dozen more times before Courtney seemed satisfied, red in the face, and escorted him back to bed with some honey and lemon and a fresh glass of water. He’d slept like the dead, exhausted, only to wake to chirping birds and the sound of guards organizing the tourney grounds just a few feet off from the manor’s yard. 

Dressing was quick, as he had a uniform and tabard waiting downstairs. He barely got down to the kitchen before food was shoved into his mouth and a handful of guards came to outfit him. Courtney was amongst them, a scroll in hand with the agenda, and directing the caterers and fellow nobility around the halls. Elanos felt someone tighten a belt around his waist, and he instinctively breathed in, finding his congestion had barely shifted overnight. Lovely…to be jousting with a stuffy nose…

He had his gloves outfitted, his pauldrons buffed, and his tabard centred before the groundsmen led him out to the back where his horse was waiting with a banner of her own. The stablehand gave a nod and offered to lead his horse out. They weren’t set to start for another hour and a half, but the castle staff knew he liked to warm up early. Maybe not today of all days, but duty calls, and all.

He grimaced, teeth gritted as he sneezed twice in succession towards the hay, kicking up dust in the morning light. The stablehand totted his head, but was quickly dismissed. He needed to clear his head. In more ways than one. 

The training grounds were in the back, and he found himself stretching, striking at targets, and riding for only about fifteen minutes before the congestion finally let up. Leave it to exercise to do it. 

“You don’t think they’ll want much of a speech, do you?” He quietly muttered to his horse, who didn’t respond beyond a shake of her head, “I fear my voice might betray my looks…”

His nose was dripping, and he knew it. There was a coldness above his lip that he couldn’t ignore. A fruitless sniffle made it feel icy, and he licked the saltiness from his lip before hopping on the back of his horse once again to practice another round of striking. Before long, he felt heat rising off his skin and could see the vague evaporation in the morning sunlight coming from his neck. The feeling wasn’t bad, but it would be a bit more muggy later. Once the helm was on, there’d be no taking it off.

Carriages soon pulled in, and the sounds of nobility and other guests alike filled the front of the castle. The shuffling of boots approached the training grounds, and rounding the corner came both a guard and Nortello, gesturing him over.

“Set to meet with your competitors in a bit, Sir Elanos. And the itinerary for today-” The guard spoke, gesturing to Nortello for the paperwork, “Lady Courtney wishes to talk to you before all, though.”

Elanos looked down. A typical, but small-scale tournament. Jousting, combat, and of course, precision. He had little concern with all of them. Win or lose, he would be the youngest on the bracket, and that in itself held esteem. Another sneeze misted his bracers, and he saw Nortello wince as he recovered.

“Very well, I’m available now,” He mumbled, taking the horse by the reins, “I’ll talk to her.”

As expected, Courtney was waiting by the manor entrance, hands folded, hair pristine. She was adjusting her pose as he approached, giving a single, solitary bow. Before he even rose, he was staring at a fine white cloth, lace on the edges, which was promptly tucked into his belt. Courtney planted a single kiss on his forehead.

“I’d like very much for you to win,” She said quietly, “But I also understand that the circumstances may be trying. I’d go in there myself if I had the chance, but alas… anyway, take this. I fear you might need it, and I am sorry for asking you to compete under such…conditions.”

He saw her eyes glance towards Nortello, who shrank away behind the guard.

“Promise you will actually use it instead of sniffling yourself into suffocation? You mustn't be so stingy with clearing your nose; you’ll make it worse.” 

“I swear,” He said breathily, “Though it’s a bit difficult with these gloves.”

“Then allow me. I’ll be there in the stands!” 

“Meeting my competitors was on the agenda,” He said, quickly changing the subject, “Are you accompanying me?”

“I shall. May I?”

He looked up and nodded. Getting her foot into the stirrup was easy, and with a quick hoist, he had Courtney sat upon his horse, which he guided towards the grounds. The sound of Nortello sighing behind them wasn’t lost. 

-------

There were three others. Burlier than him, older too. He’d been a squire under men of this age. Elanos hid his hesitation by helping Courtney down, who eagerly greeted them in the small tent off to the side of the stands. 

“-I’m sure I speak on behalf of my family when I say we are very glad to have you competing here!” She smiled, “Usually our jousts are quite simple and short. This will be a great event to remember, especially for Sir Elanos. More robust, I’d hope. Don’t go easy on him.”

His cue to step in. He raised a hand, cleared his throat and offered a quick nod. 

“I suppose I’ll leave you all to it. The first of the games will begin in about twenty. You’ll be prepared in ten.”

She bid them all farewell, quickly making her exit so Elanos could talk in private. Once she did, all eyes turned to him. 

“First tournament?” One of them asked — a taller, dark-haired fellow with tight braids. His green tabard indicated the house of Bedevere. 

“No,” Elanos answered, delicately rubbing his nose with his gauntlet, “Third. But I’ve jousted in private matches plenty of times.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

The one who was their guest the evening before spoke up. He had his arms folded over his red-accented helmet. Robyn, if memory served correct. Elanos could swear they made introductions at the dinner table, “If I can ask, have you been knighted for a while?”

“About seven years. I was a squire up until I was 17.”

“Hm. I see. Lord Ambrose did mention you were assigned early.”

“Did you have a good conversation with him?”

“I did. He mentioned he’d gone hunting with you that morning.”

Elanos waited to see if he would elaborate, but he didn’t. He felt a faint throb under all the armour.

“So...you’ve any thoughts on the competition? I heard we’d be competing with melee after the joust. You good with a blade?”

It was a condescending question. What knight wouldn't be? It’s a qualification. He refused to bite, only nodding and answering as he would any other question. 

“More than the joust. I was trained to be a bodyguard, not a competitor.”

Honest, short and simple. The one with the green tabard extended a hand first, which he shook, before going around. 

“You feeling a little sentimental, then?” The one at the end of the lot asked. He was wearing a vibrant blue under his plate, “Nerves?”

“Actually, I think I’m getting over a cold…” Elanos answered. Given, the ‘think’ was whether this was classified as a cold or not, rather than the getting over part. The sniffling must have made his eyes red. He couldn’t dry them, or his nose, without disrupting or dropping the handkerchief.

“Rough day to be under the weather…”

The five of them realized by then they were talking to fill the silence, so after an exchange of well wishes and good sportsmanship, they fell quiet. As notified, they were asked to prepare only a few minutes later, and arrived on horseback at the corner of the tourney. The stands were abuzz, some eager to get their attention. The formalities have been announced, and sitting in the booth, eager, was Courtney. Ambrose too, who already had a goblet of wine in hand despite the early hour. Elanos shook his head as they neared, before scrunching up his nose and aiming just to his left. 

“HhIH—aDTIIsshhyihww!!…adtZZSHHiihyww!- snFK!”

His horse snorted at the sudden noise, only calmed once he laid a hand on her neck. He barely even realized Robyn had pulled up beside him. 

“With all due respect, are you even in any state to compete?” Robyn scoffed under his breath before sliding on his helm. Elanos could feel his eyes through the small gap; that voice, full of resonance, “Cold like that is hell on your balance, I’d imagine.”

“I’ll be fine…”

He slid on his helm too and was met with the immediate humidity of his own breath. Each sniffle echoed in the metal. He felt hot around the neck. One of the few attendants came up to secure a shoulder plate and all the straps; Elanos held his breath. He knew the man felt his stare through his helm. Finally, all was on, and he got a solid pat on the shoulder. A final sigh sent his nose finally dripping. He could see the bard on the sidelines watching, having done a small routine to rile the crowd up. Before long, there was fanfare.

“From the House of Everheart, last line of kings, the blade: Sir Elanos!”

He heard the announcer in the booth call out, and steered his horse towards the centre. The cheers of all in the stands were less nerve-wracking than he could have expected, and he realized it was because he was frankly very preoccupied. His nose was itching, a major distraction, obviously, but to sneeze inside his helm would likely spell disaster. There would be no relief, and any itchiness would just have to be dealt with because he couldn’t get his god damn helm off! 

Elanos grimaced at his own impatience. No need to get frustrated.

“Ser Robyn, house of Crimson Lake!”

Robyn pulled up his horse and turned to look. 

“Can hear your breathing, O' Sir knight. You alright under there?”

“I have to sneeze...”

“I don’t envy you, friend…I’m sure the rest of our competitors are awaiting your slip-up.”

“And not you, of course.”

“Never. I’m a man of good sportsmanship. Hardly your fault. So much grass out here…pollen. I can’t imagine how itchy it must feel to deal with both that and a cold. It’s like getting a sprite trapped in your helmet with you, with those little fairy wings.”

Elanos furrowed his brows, “You’re trying to spur it on.”

“…is it working?”

Ser Robyn’s voice was drowned out by more cheers as the knight of House Bedevere was called upon. Elanos took the moment to turn to the side, hidden behind the shoulder plate. 

“HeEH! HHAH!’adDTSCHhhyihww!!…ghh…”

Exactly as awful and wet as he’d dreaded. He didn’t know what was worse. Having to breathe in or holding his breath. A rattling cough managed to clear off some of the strings of mess stuck around his chin and the metal, but it didn’t do much to help the itchiness at the corner of his nares. 

“Wishing you the best of luck, Sir Elanos. At your lady’s request, I shan’t hold back, but it sours my victory to kick a wounded man,” Robyn sighed. 

“My apologies then…”

The last of them were called upon. A lancer from the house of Sapphire Dragons. The tallest of them. 

“Bestowed on them, favours from you, fair people! Knights, to your posts!”

The first round. Elanos watched Robyn snidely usher his horse to the opposite side of the field as he remained. A heavy lance was placed in his hand, and he squared his shoulders to the delight of many along the barrier. 

“Knights, at the ready! Coming around!”

His face felt hot. This was all happening so fast. Only in the last second, as the command was given for them to turn and face, did he realize he was about to be barrelling towards Robyn with enough force to concuss. He gripped his lance a second before they met.

The force hitting his shoulder shield winded him.

It was like being battered. Run over. The crowd gasped. He heard wood hit his face, splintered from both his and Robyn’s lances, as he leaned dangerously far back and felt his foot suddenly slip from his stirrup. His horse was only partway to the end of the track before Elanos, in a ripe panic, wrapped his arms hard around the saddle and yanked himself back up. His arms and lungs immediately stung with the sudden exertion. His metal plate felt ten times heavier. A cold sweat drenched his hairline.

His head whipped towards Courtney, who, similarly with Ambrose, was staring slack-jawed. Nausea overtook him. 

Will you focus!? You nearly fell off your horse! The house, losing on the first round— the first BOUT, how humiliating!

He felt saliva pool around his lips, and he swallowed as he regained his balance. He was gasping for air. His face was burning. Sweat poured down his cheek. His heartbeat echoed off the tinny metal of his helm. Elanos heard his gauntlet rattle as his squire handed him another lance. 

“Wait—“ He muttered meekly.

“Knights, coming about!”

His mouth felt dry. But he’d have to wait to get a drink of water. Securing his boots into the stirrups, he realigned himself on the saddle. Feigning a premature loss, he could sense Robyn’s smugness under that helm, a brilliant, gloating sort of victory. Maybe he didn’t mind kicking a wounded man as much as he claimed. 

Elanos grit his teeth. Take advantage of his pride; retaliate when he thinks he’s struck you. Robyn will no doubt come back with even more force than before to stick the nail in the coffin. A victory in the second bout would be all too sweet.

The pounding in his head became instead a steady drum as the fanfare sounded again, and he gripped his lance, straining his knuckles. 

The wind whistling through the slots in his faceplate cooled against his sweaty skin, and he charged forward, slamming his lance with severe force. Playing dirty, as many in the crowd would realize, as the surrounding gasps would indicate only half a breath after a fierce cracking sound. Slats of wood covered Robyn, who was unprepared for Elanos’ sudden lowered stance and burst of speed. Not only knocked backwards, but fell in a heap. His lance had broken off against Elanos’ helmet, a starburst of soreness coming to his temple, but nothing compared to his competitor's clatter of armour as he struggled to maintain balance, only tumbling off at the very end. Elanos exhaled and felt air rake across his raw throat. 

The cheering was overbearing as Robyn’s squire helped him to his feet. Elanos was steered away. A short bout, not even three full rounds. He felt himself sway as the adrenaline wore down, being helped off his horse along the sides of the field. His squire had drawn the horse away for care as he stumbled along the edge, being adorned with all manner of florals and handkerchiefs, all while the announcers were busy readying the second bracket. Courtney found him, his legs almost giving out as he reached the stairs. She pulled off the helmet to assess the damage and tutted. He was in the shade before long, being sat down, a cool rag on his forehead. 

“You’re burning up…” She muttered, thumbing his forehead. He felt sweat run down his neck. 

“I need water—hhHDSCHhhh!!’TSCHHwww!!…hhuhh…”

Hells. As if there wasn’t enough of a mess already. He felt her withdraw a handkerchief from his belt so he could blow his nose before she lifted the helmet to clean it as well. 

Someone shoved a cup of water in his face; someone else held his head back. Attendants, squires…was it really that big of a deal? And…Robyn…

“You’re looking…pallid,” He said, once Elanos had stood back upright. Someone called for her and Courtney hurriedly handed off his helmet so it could be placed back on. The small crowd dispersed so Robyn could have his conversation, dragging Elanos along. He was breathing steadier now but still warm within the metal helm, “What the hell was that? At the very end? You leaned down! I could’ve beheaded you!”

“Figured if I didn’t, you’d likely kill me by knocking me off instead,” Elanos half-joked. He wanted more water. Whoever had fed it to him before left it dribbling on his chin. He licked his lips, “I’m sorry. I got really—“

“Oh, gods. Don’t apologize. Makes it more insulting that I lost!”

“You nearly got me in the first one.”

“I saw that. Your form was all wrong”

“It wasn’t- I just wasn’t paying attention. I do better usually.”

“Are you really fit to compete? You sound out of breath…”

He held up a hand, a refusal to answer. Robyn sighed and looked away. 

“Your adrenaline is going to wear off. You need to sit before you throw up…”

He nodded and let Robyn guide him to the stands where his horse had just finished drinking water. She eagerly pushed her face towards his helmet as he sat down on the haybales beside her, with Robyn standing. The sounds of the joust were beginning for the second bout…

“I’d say there’s no shame in forfeit, but we both know that isn’t true. You’ll compete valiantly, and I’ll be sure to meet you eye to eye during the combat. Same with the precision games. You’ll be fit to do those, right?”

Elanos answered with a sniffle. Resigned himself to silence, so it seemed. They watched from afar, their breath finally caught — though he could help but cough it all back up — when the knight of House Bedevere’s shield became impaled. Frightful. A full three rounds, where the one in blue barrelled his competition.

“You’re going up against the house of Sapphire, little knight,” Robyn said, rattling his shoulder. His pauldrons clattered together like tin cutlery, “Get on up there!”

“Hh—aaTSSCHHhuhhwwhh…!”

“And bless you!”

“Snff…ugh…”

Chivalry be damned. Elanos sullenly picked himself up and led his horse to the edge of the ring. They arrived in time for the cheering to peter out and for the announcer to call them both up. Water, refreshments, a quick towel off to get them fitted. A squire had tended to Elanos’ runny nose before sheepishly folding the handkerchief back into his belt.

Elanos turned to see his competitor already armed. He swung his leg up over his horse, gave her a gentle pat, then waved. A riot of cheers erupted. 

Probably best to win, he weighed, but if he lost…second place wasn’t all too awful either. Personally. His obligation to the house clawed at this thought ravenously as he turned about, lowered his lance, and waited for the fanfare. 

The first strike was powerful, and he felt the sheer force of the other man as the lance impacted his chest. It felt like being knocked square in the ribs, fifty times over. He wheezed to the sound of splintering wood. Perhaps in a matter of strategy. If he could thrust his lance at the right time and angle, he could pierce the shield and get ahead. His head was swimming as he sniffled his way to the roundabout and secured himself for the second bout. 

His window of attack was slim, but he hit it. Unceremonious. He felt the wood resonate. It smacked clumsily as he tried to strike, sliding off, and he swore, under the visor, a pair of blue eyes trailed him as they passed. Elanos coughed again 

“Everything okay, Sir?”

The squire holding a spare lance had asked. He nodded and looked up. Sweat rolled down his neck. His mouth was dry again.

“Knights at the ready?”

Not yet. He held up a hand. There was a slight buzz around him of confusion before he gripped his reins tight and jerked his head down. 

“hhHh-! HH—hdDTSSChhhhyhww!”

Ugh. Awful. His head was pounding again as the moisture settled against his visor. He sniffled and lowered his hand. 

“Knights at the ready. Knights, coming about!”

This was the one chance. He was fighting both the rhythm of his horse and the new horrid sensation within his helmet as he extended his hand to shove—

And miss-

And leaving an opening for-

Elanos didn’t even have the mind to calculate what had happened to him before he fell backwards onto the dirt, to the horrified gasps and thrilled cheers of the onlookers. A sharp pain pierced his shoulder before it evened out to a thrum. Elanos gasped sharply, realizing he had held his breath, and began to cough. He was staring up at the sunlight beaming through his visor, soon blocked by this squire and the attendants who crowded around. 

“Can you stand?”

…could he? The shock was rushing through him, and he felt winded. After a second, he found the effort to move his arm and, with help, knelt. Someone peered inside his helmet. 

“He’s alert!”

“Well! That declares the champion, does it not!?” The announcer called to more cheers. People were escorting him off the field to the shade where he was no doubt going to be received by Courtney. He slumped into a seat, and someone pulled off his helmet. 

“I think your knight might be ill,” They spoke. He made out the blurry image of Courtney approaching, dress hiked up, “It’s probably best to let him rest in the shade in the interim. He doesn’t seem to have enough air.”

“Elanos…!” 

Oh, her voice, sounding both concerned and disappointed. Guilt welled up in his stomach as he bowed his head. 

“Are you injured?”

“I don’t think so,” He answered. Her hands cupped his cheek and the lip of a bottle to his own. It tasted sour, like cherries. He looked up, confused. Courtney had a potion put to his mouth.

“I’d worry this is considered cheating-“ He muttered, “Halfway through— I-it would be considered performance enhancing-?”

“It’s cough syrup, Elanos! I highly doubt that would be cheating. You sound terrible! What happened in the past twenty minutes for it to get this bad?”

“N-nothing! I’m just tired…”

“Have you overexerted yourself?”

Was this a humiliation ritual of some kind? What sort of question was that!? He muttered a soft yes before taking a swig of the sickly sweet liquid. It did feel a bit easier to breathe, and he didn’t realize how starved for air he was until now. 

“…I’m so sorry,” She said, brushing back his hair. There was genuine remorse; it was expressed through her gentle blue eyes and upturned brows. Elanos felt his legs grow a little weak and he slouched, “Goodness, I am. I really am. I will make it up to you, I swear on it! I can’t pull you out of the competition, but once you’re out of your armor…A full weeks of rest, once this is over.”

“Of course…” He said softly. He bowed his head to let her tie his hair back and feel both his neck and forehead. 

“Oh, don’t cry, please. Please, I have pushed you too much. You’re too forgiving.”

“I’m not! I-I! It’s this cold! Everyone thinks I’m crying!”

He felt his heart pound as he raised his voice and had to sneeze again, sending saliva and mess all over his pauldrons. Gods. It was as if the longer it went on, the worse his etiquette was becoming. He didn’t even bother to sniffle. 

“I can only apologize in advance. Hopefully, the syrup helps. A-and I’ll get tea for you before the duel. I’m trying to make you as comfortable as I can, despite it all, I do hope it’s working…”

He nodded. There was a warm sense of comfort that replaced the guilt from earlier. This is Courtney when she wasn’t professional and wasn’t on top of things. The friendly, fumbling version of her. He was always fond of it. She seemed human again. 

“I’ll be fine. Getting knocked off a horse isn’t as bad as losing a duel…”

“Losing! I hope you win! How awful of me, that I do still want you to win…”

“It’s not awful. I would also like to win.”

“Promise me you will try- but not too hard. Not too much that it will endanger you. Goodness, what am I saying..!”

She had grown beet red, and all Elanos could answer with was a nod as he got up. The rest of the tourney needed to continue, but the most she could do now was tidy him up and send him off. A hand on his forehead called for more towels, which the attendants fetched in haste. She patted his nose dry, scoffing under her breath at how silly it was that he couldn't remove his own gauntlets.

Elanos returned to the tourney grounds, lips smelling of herbs and cherries, handkerchief tucked into his belt, and a longsword in hand.

"Back on, are we?" Robyn said, "How was your fall?"

"Undeserved..." He muttered. Robyn was holding a glaive. It looked...intimidating. But he knew that where a glaive indicated strength, he could make up for it in swiftness. They'd find themselves pressed together, a blade pinning Robyn to Elanos' person as he attempted to grapple him. Friendly competition and all, he could feel himself growing warm at the snide obscenities Robyn was throwing to him, out of earshot of the crowd. Likewise, he'd retaliate. A bout of friendly competitive banter. His eyes darted to the stands as he finally shoved Robyn away, sweeping his legs out from under him to a satisfying spray of dirt and sand.

Win or lose, he was putting on a show for his lady who was watching, and the thought alone brought warmth to his chest. Not the overheated, feverish kind, but something softer, more delicate. Like the gentle tickle in the back of one’s throat. Like the aftertaste of cherries.

[just-a-nervous-bean]

Well. Just learned this. Knight kinks are a thing. I’m just supposed to find out about this like 4 months into having one and just assuming this is another one of my favoured character tropes and not that I have a much more complex and slightly erotic take on it than usual.

[just-a-nervous-bean]

i dont think im gonna be doing sicktember this year :0 i love what came from it in the years before but tbh i dont feel as inspired this year bc a lot of the prompts overlap with years past (not to any fault of the ppl who run it ofc! thats just the nature of whump prompts lol) and it was a real struggle to finish in the past year ;w; sorry yall

[just-a-nervous-bean]

Working on the final part of that series of fics :0

Sorry things have been slow!! Been on the grind IRL and being in my hoe era I’ve gone thru like five character arcs it’s wild

[just-a-nervous-bean]

AN: OOH BABEY!!! Part 5 >:) This one is.....debaucherous LOL

Here's my masterpost! 4000 words. Smth smth elanos vs the three guards he rose the ranks with then superceded when he got promoted, it's all revenge banging, dawg. ALSO WARNING this is super messy and way gross, intentional contagion and also the imagery of 3 jockish guards bullying someone into being screwed.

------

A Knight's Court - Chapter 4 - The Shepherd Wolf and the Pack of Wild Dogs 

“Aren’t you three supposed to be by the entrance hall?”

“We’re just taking a little breather. Don’t worry, there are eyes on our posts!”

Three guards. Trellen, who he’d brushed by earlier, a simple fellow and friend who he unfortunately now outranked, Vexus, an elf and Arenae, a tiefling. A couple of fellow guards he’d grown up around and eventually came to train. Arenae always had a bit of a rivalry with him, but Elanos’ coolheadedness gave him the edge to be knighted. A major slap in the face at the time, but now water under the bridge…he hoped. 

Elanos turned momentarily back to his food, tongue running over the back of his teeth and rubbing at a bit of orange that had gotten stuck. The taste of citrus lingered in the back of his raw throat. 

“…Are you waiting for me to dismiss you?” He asked after a moment. They were all standing, arms behind their back, heads down. When he asked, the one in front, Arenae, looked up. A slight raise in his left brow indicated…confusion. 

“Ehm, suppose you could,” He said quietly. The three exchanged a glance. Elanos shivered and lifted his head before ducking sharply to the side. 

“—hhIHd’dsschHHh!!”

“Bless you…”

“Excuse me...Is there reason for me to not…? You were expecting something else?” Elanos righted his head with a sniff and a touch of his fingers to his nose. He set down his cup, “Why?”

“No reason! We’ll be on our way-!”

“No, now you aren’t. I have yet to dismiss you,” He stood and put his hand on his blade’s hilt. From behind Arenae, Vexus grimaced in the way a child would, having been caught scribbling on the wall. Trellen was staring at the ceiling, “At ease.”

The three did so, hands behind their back in a uniform pose and parted so he could walk into the bunks. It was begrudgingly done, Elanos rolled his eyes. Frankly, he could not care less on a personal level, but his position called for discipline and order and due to their apparent skirting around of something, that requires a room inspection. Other than the fact they were playing hooky, of course.

He scanned the room.

Cards on the bed, unmade. He could let that pass. A small satchel of gold off to the side. A…a poster of some kind, written with charcoal. 

Walking up to it, he felt the three tense. His index finger scrubbed under his nose before he pointed to the poster. 

“Is this a betting pool? For the tourney?”

“Er- ah, no, just some other record keeping,” Trellen mumbled before getting elbowed. It was quick enough that Elanos could hear it, but not see it upon turning. 

“And you’re betting against the house?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. A bit of his pride withered away, but was bolstered again, knowing that he likely would have found it hilarious were he still a guard.

“They bullied me into it,” Trellen said quickly, to which the others gasped and began to make their defence.

Arenae cleared his throat first, “Light fun. We didn’t bully him into anything-“

“That’s not true.”

“It was a-a uh, even split. Someone had to bet against,” Vexus added. Her arms folded with a glare that Elanos could feel on the back of his neck, “He volunteered.”

“No-! Hold on, did not! Um, can we explain?”

“I don’t care about your bets,” Elanos cut him off with a sigh, “But take that down. You shouldn’t be betting, ahhd-and especially not on this. If this left the room, you would not have me to contend with but…” He glanced away, “You know. Don’t let me catch you pulling that sort of thing again. And your disloyalty to me, Trellen, I will remember.”

The last part was said jokingly, yet the gravel and exhaustion in his voice didn’t convey that all too well. 

“Miss when you used to be loose with it, Elanos,” Arenae sighed, but held out his hand for the rolled-up poster. It landed there with a crinkle. 

“I’m not feeling 'loose with it.' I have a horrible cold I’m trying to manage before dinner tonight…” He retorted. 

“I kinda figured. The bags under your eyes and your voice sound…unlike you. If I were allowed to bet, which I’m not, I’d say it would be five gold on you pushing through dinner like nothing's wrong.”

“No issue in that.”

“You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be off duty, my good man,” Trellen said with a faint chuckle, “Come on.”

He broke formation, which, really, who cares, but it signalled to Elanos he’d made his point. What he didn’t expect was a pillow to be grabbed and whirled towards him. His reflexes were quick enough to grab it, and he lowered the pillow with his eyes wide to see Trellen jeering behind it. 

“Remember that? You used to be the one encouraging us to stay up and practice our ‘sparring.’”

“Of course I—I did-! Hhuh!hhHESChhihww!!…huh. But the stakes were lower then…”

“Oh? High and mighty now, aren’t we?” Arenae snickered. 

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m sure Lady Courtney would be delighted to know her most loyal and disciplined blade was up encouraging bad behaviour in the bunks before he had a leash around him.”

“Fuh-funny…”

His nose was itching quite a bit. These guys did not clean as much as he would have hoped. 

“You should dust more often.”

“We don’t have the luxury of a maid, Elanos. My gods. Listen to yourself! Someone’s let the siren song of luxury get to their head,” Vexus scoffed, “Come on. The three of us and you? How quickly you forgot that sometimes power in numbers outweighs the quality of your own skill.”

He turned around to reply, only to get a pillow to the face, one that he failed to catch. He was so preoccupied with handling one of them that he had let his guard down. Two pairs of arms suddenly grabbed his shoulders and wrangled him down to the bed. 

“I’m not going to fight you, Vex,” Elanos groaned, trying to wriggle out. Where he was dextrous and athletic, the others here had brawn that outweighed him. His time in etiquette classes was their time hauling metal to the smith or drawing up the bridge and climbing. They were too clumsy to accompany a lady, which took social and physical grace, but they were more than capable of…ganging up on him. A pang of desire hit his chest. 

He felt the weight of Arenae on his hips, and he opened his eyes to see he and Vexus had switched places. The horns that framed the tiefling's jeering face, the swishing tail. This man knew how to exploit a vice like it was in his blood. He watched as Arenae reeled back a fist and slammed it against the idle pillow to knock up both a cloud of dust and a few loose feathers. 

“We can call it even. You let the betting thing slide, and we…won’t tell Lady Everheart about your ‘delinquent behaviours’ or the fact you let the three of us get away with all this nonsense. It’s your position that oversees us, isn’t it?”

Elanos furrowed his brows. If this meathead knew anything about anything, he’d know that Courtney would find this fact utterly charming. He didn’t bother answering and let his head flop back in disinterest. Arenae was over him in a second, hand held out, a small, rounded down feather pinched between thumb and curled forefinger. Elanos shut his eyes. 

“Is that a no?”

“It’s a withdrawal from the question…”

“Darn.”

Even though he could anticipate what was coming next, there was little he could do to fight off the physical sensation. A soft, fuzzy feather against his hypersensitive septum had his lips parted at just a touch. The tickle travelled up his nose, hitting every nerve on the way. Each attempt to get loose, flexing his muscles and rolling his shoulders, only prompted the other two to hold onto him tighter. His upper lip trembled with a gasp. 

“HEHh! HH!hhHIH-!”

The feather waved back and forth. It was so close he could smell the leather glove of Arenae’s uniform. Like a fan stoking a fire, left to right, hitting the raw skin of his septum and spurring on a runny nose. 

“HIiH—ddshHHYIhewww!!”

“Agree to our terms, or you don’t get a bless you.”

“What nonsense…” Elanos groaned, lifting his head. His chin brushed against his collar as his mouth hung open; both eyes threatened to close, lower lids scrunched to a squint. His nostrils flared, and he realized that part of the feather was still being held there by his former colleague’s hand. 

“Your choice, Elanos-“

“--EhSSHhhhiehw!!…huh! HHDT-!!..ghh…apPTSHHhyiiehw!! ADTSChhhhuhww!”

He hated to sneeze at this angle where the only place to aim was forward, on himself, or up…also on himself. Deeply unhygienic either way. He didn’t want to be the one spreading a bug around the house staff. He sniffled in dismay, realizing he’d sneezed a full stream of mess over his lip, which wouldn’t be remedied with anything less than a handkerchief. Pulling at his arms only made the two holding onto them more determined to keep him still.

“I kinda miss you like this, Elanos,” Arenae folded his arms and smirked. There was a hint of genuine endearment in it, “And by that I mean under me. In every sense.”

“I-I need to cover my mouth…”

“They teach you that in your manners class?”

“I-I’m gonnahh—gh- get everyone sick if-!”

“Oh, sure. Do so. Maybe we’ll get a day off…or not. Maybe only knights get those.”

“You sound jealous—iiSSCHHhihwww!!…ugh…excuse me.”

Elanos’ face felt warm from the onslaught of stimulation. He wasn’t sure if it was seeing his accusation land so perfectly or knowing that at the end of the day, he really could just reprimand Arenae for this and get the final say, but he felt a stirring in his chest. Maybe it was arousal. His libido had been messed with all day. He ran a tongue over his warm lip and exhaled through his mouth before trying to sniffle. 

“You should give me a day off. Otherwise I’d be standing in the hall, sneezing all over the open foyer…” Arenae muttered, grabbing his shirt. It felt like a bullying grip to muscle him into it. But he refused, “How unhygienic is that, huh? Not turning my head, not breaking formation? But you get to go to sleep in the middle of the day?”

Arenae’s knee suddenly slid up between his legs, pressing his tunic in a bunch up against the seam of his pants. 

“You need to learn how to be amongst us again, man, you’re living the high life for too long. Want us to reeducate you?”

Elanos began to answer, but it came out as a garbled moan. The pressure of his jostling knee between his thighs was...distracitng. Vexus and Trellen exchanged a glance as he opted to nod instead. 

“And that’s how you do it,” Arenae said under his breath. The self-congratulating grin he wore was irritating, just a bit, “Tamed him like a horse.”

He slid a hand between his knee and the base of Elanos’ pants, reaching up to get a handful of him. 

“I like this feather business. Makes him seem more human. If one of you wants to flip him..?”

There was a comedically long pause before Vexus had the initiative to roll him over. She held his wrist down to the bed, and Arenae hoisted him up by the hips so he could be on his knees with his face to the mattress. This old bed. The smell of the sheets was like a hit of nostalgia to the back of his skull. He remembered how it felt. How it rubbed up against his skin. He had the urge to scrub his nose into it. 

“Let’s take turns,” He heard Vexus say. A strong leather glove steadied his hip before playfully pulling up the hem of his tunic to reveal the hem of his pants. Pulling them down exposed his thighs and rear to the cold air of the guards' barracks, where body heat would often make up for the lack of a fire. 

“Been wanting this for a while,” Arenae had the gall to chuckle. He pinched Elanos’ thigh and laughed as he moaned, “You’re suddenly very compliant.”

“I-it’s cold…” He mumbled, trying to keep from muffling himself into the sheets. His cock was out. He felt it twitch as a warm hand slid between his legs. 

“Put your hands on your back. I’ll hold em. Like reins,” Arenae instructed, “The two of you, make yourselves busy— or, Trellen. You’re responsible. Take this…I want him looking like he face fucked an slime the time we’re done.”

“You’re into some weird shit, Ren…”

“Shut up.”

Someone grabbed Elanos by the hair, fingers smoothing along his scalp before lifting his head. At the same time, something wet touched his entrance, and he jolted. A grip on his wrists, pinning them against the small of his back, was unmistakably Arenae. The same strength used to guide horses or wield a glaive, steering from behind. In the front, Trellen’s hand in his hair, the other clumsily batting a feather under his nose. Like a cat swishing it's tail...

“StuhHH—hhuhtssSSHHHuehww!! UHTSCHhhhuhwww!!” He sneezed almost immediately, lips hung open and drooling into the mattress. It was awfully messy, the angle of being smothered into the bedding paired with his inability to breathe the whole way. He groaned as his head was tilted further up and the feather was put in his nostril and left there with an encouraging tap of Trellen’s thumb. 

“Keep gasping, pretty boy…”

His hitches were mixed in with moans, feeling his former trainee’s fingers slipping in and around him. Unable to look, he was forced to contend with the blooming itch that the feather brought on to his senses. Breathing in only jostled it further, forcing it to drag along the sensitive tissue inside his nose. Whining only made it worse. 

“G-gehHHt- get it out-“ He gasped, “hHEH! AddtsSSHHhyihww!! APTSSCHhhuhw!!”

Someone pinched at the stem of the feather and dragged it so it hung delicately at the very edge of his nares, pressing against the flaring rims. He felt his nose running. 

“Wipe that spit off your mouth, Elanos,” Arenae grunted before pressing his tip right up to his entrance, “No way to talk. Hahh…fuck, if people could see the Blade of the House now..!”

“HHIh!hah—! HHPTSSCHHhhhhww!”

Stifling was fruitless. He gritted his teeth, but the tears and spit streamed down his face nonetheless, forced through the gaps between his chapped lips.

His mouth involuntarily dropped open as Arenae entered him. A secure kind of pleasure that had him overwhelmed with a need to stay still, to serve as his handler’s needs. 

“Please—please my face itcHESSSHiuhww!! Iisschhhyihwww!! T-TrellehHHd—!EETSCHHhhihww!!”

Groans of pleasure came from the one behind him in response to the full-body clenching from each outburst. His glove’s seams dug into Elanos’ wrists, leaving marks. 

“Don’t move so much then. You’re making it hard for me to get a grip!”

The hand in his hair pulled up, and like a puppet, he followed. The feather was yanked out with a pinch, practically in time for him to sneeze all over Trellen’s gloves. The shine reminded him of freshly polished leather. 

“Hnnf—hhah…” 

Leave it to a guard to be quiet. After a few quick thrusts, creaking the worn-out bed, he felt Arenae grow hot. Genuinely hot, with his palms and the soft leather feeling like they've been warmed by an afternoon in the sun. There was no extravagance as he felt a surge of warmth behind him, and Arenae pulled away with heavy, laboured breaths. He felt liquid running down his thigh, and his own cock twitched again in jealousy. 

“Your turn,” Arenae mumbled, and he heard a slap of a glove to a shoulder. A new set of hands gripped his arms, and the sensation of someone’s thigh against his hip forced him to still. 

“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to bet against you…” Vexus said with an eager lilt to her voice. Something warm rubbed up against his ass, some kind of sexual organ, though the physiology was lost on him. It felt alive, writhing. His mind felt foggy. Vexus…eladrin, maybe, he never asked. She must have had some flora ingrained into her biology. Was he under some kind of pheromone? “Don’t panic, Sir. Nothing unusual for me.”

Definitely a plant-like tendril of some kind. Elanos whimpered, but was quickly cut off by Trellen’s hand on his lip. 

“Can you two hurry it up?” Trellen mumbled, “He’s looking at me with his bird eyes…”

“Use the front if you’re so impatient,” Arenae scoffed. 

“I don’t want to. He’s all…slimy.”

“That’s no excuse. Isn’t that right, Elanos? What was the code of conduct? Any guard of House Everheart shall carry on a task asked of them by their superior? Why don’t you give an order?”

“HhHUH!!ttscHHoo!…hhHSSCHHuhhw!-SSCHhhuhww!!” 

“Really, with a little integrity? Please?”

Elanos coughed. It sounded thick. He had so much mess streaming down his face it was getting hard to talk without his throat getting all…phlegmy. 

“Trelled…” His brows upturned as he tried to look up, lips shuddering. Vexus was starting to moan with her sex thrusting into him, it was hard to focus. His eyes threatened to shut to make way for another sneeze, “HhnNGGSHhht!!…”

“I’m getting impatient, man, come on…”

“Trellen, let me—…I’m ordering you to…t-to let me s…”

His face felt hot. He wanted to, so badly. If it would give some kind of reprieve to his own throbbing cock. 

“Let me use my m-mouth…”

Embarrassing. He felt his pride crumble further. He was Trellen’s superior, therefore, and he had to oblige. But the order came with such little bite, it was like a…a forfeit. 

His chest heaved, and he coughed again. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be so…languid with it. Arenae was right. He couldn’t deny an order given. That was the only thing that would give him the upper hand. So what if three of his guards fucked him on his knees? He could crush the lot of them with a word. 

“Take your pants off, Trellen...” He suddenly groaned, and the whimpering from Vexus cut off. There was a commanding presence in his chest, it projected his voice past the congestion, “Hurry up.”

“Dog has bite to his bark, you probably should,” Arenae said snidely under his breath. Trellen scrambled for his fly. 

“Arenae,” His tone shifted to be direct. The crackle from his sore voice gave it an edge. He heard him shift to attention, out of habit. The tiefling tutted in disbelief at his own reflex, “Can’t even command those under your own rank. I have to do it for you?”

“Hey, ouch, don’t be so smart when you’re the one with some tentacle up hi-“

Vexus groaned as she came, cutting him off. Utterly spent. Elanos turned his head, unable to keep from shaking. 

“AADIiitshhihwww—!“

“Ugh!” Trellen, with his cock out, yelped. The spray hit his sex, and he tried to hide his disgust. 

“I’m gonna make sure the three of you are standing guard outside-“ Elanos grumbled as Vexus rested her sex against his hip, “Whatever this cold is to me would be hell to you, without the help of divine health.”

His lips pressed to Trellen’s tip. The man was staying awfully still, which was helpful. Was he particularly squeamish? Must be. He languished in using his tongue, even dragging it over Trellen's fingers holding his cock upright. Hearing the occasional grunts of pleasure, he dragged his tongue along it even further, his friend trying to keep from admitting his own delight. A repression of arousal overlaid with disgust. 

His lips parted momentarily. The small gasp of air seemed to do the trick, and he saw Trellen’s cock twitch with a pathetic rope of his cum. Elanos shut his eyes and aimed. 

“IiHSCHhhhihwww!!…"

"Oh gods-"

"Hhhah…wipe my mouth-“

He watched as his sex twitched again from the settling moisture. 

“H-huh?”

“Use your uniform…” 

A shaking hand grabbed the bottom of a tabard and blotted his face gently. The strings of mess were webbing onto it, dripping off in strings, coating the fabric. It was useless. The other two were watching, heavily breathing. 

“I’m serious…” Elanos added firmly. His nose was running in a way that threatened to drip further. He moved his hands, and out of instinct, Vexus let go. Elanos quickly grabbed for Trellen’s belt and used it to hoist himself up. A firm yank pulled at his top. 

“That’s disgusting-! What-! What do I-?!”

Elanos drank in the satisfaction of watching him squirm around in horror as he wiped the mess off his face and then blew his nose into his uniform. The others hid a laugh. 

“Vexus.”

Elanos steadied himself on his hand before finally swinging his legs down to the ground. He reached over and, with a firm grip, tore the sleeve from her shirt with a staggering rip. A sudden air of fear fell upon the three at the sound. 

“Elanos, what the hell-!?”

He stared at her, wiping the cum leaking over his thighs. His pupils were narrow. Kept her in place, watching, up until the torn sleeve was folded up and thrown in her direction. 

He drew in a breath. Somewhere in all that, he found his bravado. His jaw was sore. His head was too. Pulling up his own pants hid his own throbbing erection, but he figured he could deal with that after disciplining the last of them. 

“You recovered from that quickly,” Arenae said with a laugh. He was standing closer to the door, arms folded, “What’s in store for me?”

“I’m sure this is enough for you…” Elanos sniffled, wiping the last of the runny nose onto his backhand. 

He glanced around the barracks until he could find Arenae’s visor before scrubbing his backhand against the faceplate. The interior of it, that is…

“You’ll contend with dealing with your subordinates in due time…I know that will be a test of diligence for you,” Elanos muttered, thumbing at the side of his nose. He pressed his hand against Arenae’s cheek. The man was hard; he felt his pulse. One glance down confirmed it all, “I expect everyone to be in uniform. I’m fairly certain you all are issued just the one, so I’d advise being quick and cleaning before you get back to your post…”

“You just got your— your cold all over my shirt!”

“You can do your own laundry, can’t you? Can’t stand to be a little wet or get your hands dirty?” Elanos answered passively. He walked out the door and took his dish from earlier, “Get to it before I reprimand the three of you for abandoning post...”

He left as the three hurried to gather their armour, muttering and bickering amongst themselves. Finally, he could drop his professional act, and the sluggish nature of a head cold could take over once again. Standing in the hall, arms folded, he caught sight of the Bard and his telltale grin. 

Elanos grimaced, which told that man one thing. Underlings…what a pain in the ass…

[just-a-nervous-bean]

Which one of your characters is most likely to have honeymoon rhinitis?

I actually think it might be erril. He has the thing where he sneezes whenever he exercises and like…I mean…it’s one form of cardio aint it 🥴🥴🥴