#LOOK AT HOW TENDERLY JULIAN LOOKS AT HIM COULD YOU DIE

[jessieliveblogs]

Art by Mars Lauderbaugh, Official cover artist for Cemetery Boys, available on Aiden Thomas’s website

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Whump you say? Geralt gets Hanahaki

I’ve been waiting for you, Anon. I’ve been waiting for this prompt specifically and boy when I tell you I might have cried writing it...

2k ish (a little less) words long. Idk why y’all were worried, it’s me. It’s gonna have a happy ending.

tw: Hanahaki, blood mention, illness, angst with a happy ending, whump with a happy ending ---

It had started up just before they parted ways for the winter; Geralt had quietly coughed a handful of rose petals into the corner of his cloak and hidden them from sight as Jaskier gave him their yearly parting embrace. “See you in the spring, Geralt!”

“Hmm.”

You might not ever see me again, actually, the Witcher thought. He tried not to let anything show on his face; not his fear and certainly not his longing, but he ached to tell Jaskier that he loved him and that he’d miss the bard’s presence through the long and dreary cold of the winter months. Geralt also knew that if he told Jaskier the truth about his feelings that he may never set eyes on the bard again anyway, regardless of how the disease currently wracking his body developed over their time apart. He was sure that Vesemir could identify whatever the strange illness was; the old swordmaster might even have a cure ready to go in the old storeroom. If not, they could send for Triss. 

“Safe travels.”

“And you as well,” Geralt nodded curtly. He mounted Roach with all his usual grace and ease, biting back another cough and tasting the sickly sweet floral note of rose rising up his throat to coat his tongue again. 

---

“Fuck,” Vesemir sighed. “It’s Hanahaki disease, Geralt. It’s not going to be easy to cure now that the pass is full of snow.”

“What’s Hanahaki disease?”

“It’s-” the eldest Wolf Witcher scrubbed his hand over his bearded face and took a moment to compose himself. He’d seen it happen before. He’d seen human bodies buried in the ground with entire root systems crawling from their chest cavities. He’d watched young men and women alike cough entire violet or rose or daisy buds from their mouths while they shivered with fever and seemingly unending pain, but a Witcher? Vesemir hadn’t even thought it was possible for a Witcher to contract such a frivolously deadly illness. “I don’t know exactly how to explain this to you, Geralt.”

“I won’t go screaming into the hills, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” his middle-child joked, “I can’t run very far anymore without a coughing fit.”

“I can’t send for Triss or Yennefer, either. They won’t be able to do anything,” Vesemir spoke calmly and evenly. Geralt, propped against some pillows on adoptive-father-enforced bed rest raised an eyebrow. “It’s a disease that eats at you from the inside out. It latches on to, uhm, romantic feelings and grows with them until it overtakes its host completely. Or until the host, uh… confronts those feelings head on and admits them to the object of their affection.”

“So this is…” Geralt’s eyes were wide and terrified. The eldest Wolf had never seen the stoic boy look quite so scared before, and he’d seen him go through the Trials. “This is going to kill me, is what you’re saying.”

“Who are you in love with, you stubborn oaf!?” Lambert cried, marching into the room from where he’d been lurking in the hall. He startled the other two Wolves and Geralt coughed out another handful of petals. The blood that came with them was surprisingly new. 

“What do you mean!?”

“He means,” Vesemir said, as slowly as possible (so that even the great Geralt of Rivia would understand his situation), “That until you tell this person how you feel, the flowers inside you will continue to grow and dig their roots in and, if you never tell them how you feel at all, you will eventually die.”

“Then I guess my fate is sealed,” Geralt smiled sadly, settling himself back against the pillows. “My time as a Witcher is up. Coughing up flowers isn’t the worst way to go, all things considered.”

Lambert growled angrily. “I’m not ready to lose my brother yet, Geralt, so just tell us who you’re pining after and we’ll go fetch her back!”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?!”

Geralt, growing increasingly more feverish and already exhausted from everything that had happened that afternoon, closed his eyes. “Because he deserves better than me, Lambert. He deserves so much more than I could ever give him and I’m not about to steal him away like a selfish ass and force my feelings onto him for my own sake. I’d rather die.”

“Self-sacrificing bastard,” the youngest of the Wolf Witchers snarled, storming from the room. “Ass! Cock! Fool!”

Vesemir could only nod his agreement and follow silently after.

---

Jaskier read the letter once.

Then he read it again.

After a third time through he was sure that he hadn’t misunderstood the contents.

Dear Jaskier (aka Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, Prof. of the Seven Liberal Arts at Oxenfurt),

I am Eskel, brother to Geralt of the Wolf Witcher School at Kaer Morhen. I write to you now to ask for your presence at the keep. Geralt has fallen gravely ill and will not likely make it through the season. He does not know that I have written to you, but as his best friend and companion on the Path, I thought it my duty to invite you to see him one last time before he’s gone for good. He’s loathe to admit it, but he misses you and fears for your safety come springtime.

Sincerely,

Eskel of the Wolf School

Somewhere beneath the bright embroidery of his doublet and the hand-woven muslin of his chemise, Jaskier’s flighty, deeply-loving heart shattered into a million pieces. 

He grabbed his heaviest woolen cloak from its peg near the door and made for the stables at once.

---

“Geralt!”

The White Wolf opened his eyes a sliver to confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating again; ah yes. What a lovely last dream to have before I die. Standing in the middle of his bedroom at Kaer Morhen, covered with still-melting snow, was Jaskier. The bard’s blue eyes were brimming with tears and his bottom lip was wobbling violently as he gazed upon the Witcher’s withering form.

“Geralt, what’s wrong? Your father and brothers sort of explained it to me but I’m still not sure what’s happening. You’re dying?”

“Don’t worry, bard,” Geralt smiled. A loud, sudden cough wracked his body and he bent over double, spitting a blood-spattered but fully-bloomed rose out into his cupped palm. He laughed joylessly and tossed the bloom onto his bedside table. “I’ll be out of your hair, soon. Won’t this be a last ballad to write, a wolf dying as he’s eaten by flowers?”

“I don-”

“Hush,” Geralt rasped. Jaskier dropped his cloak to the ground uncaringly and rushed to his Witcher’s side. He sat on the edge of the mattress and took Geralt’s closest hand in his, grasping the appendage to his chest and sobbing into the sword-calloused skin like his tears might save his best friend’s life. “Don’t be sad, Jaskier.”

“I am sad, Geralt! I’m absolutely fucking terrified and heartbroken and crushed! Vesemir said you could heal this at any time but you just… you just won’t because you’re stubborn and an idiot and the sweetest goddamn man I’ve ever met in my life! How dare you tell me goodbye when you are perfectly capable of fixing this problem yourself! How could you promise to see me in the spring and then break your word by dying well before the grass turns green again?! You bastard!”

“You won’t miss me after another year passes,” Geralt reassured him, flexing the hand still held tight in Jaskier’s grip. “You won’t even remember me by the time the first daisies spring up.”

“How dare you,” the bard cried again. He pressed a nervous kiss to the tip of the Witcher’s pointer finger before letting go completely and dropping his head into his own hands. “How dare you say those things to me when you know full well that I love you with all my stupid, fragile mortal heart. You asshole.”

“Wh...what?” 

“I love you, Geralt!” The Witcher stared up at his friend with nothing but confusion written across his handsome features. Jaskier reached out, wiping a smear of blood away from the corner of Geralt’s mouth as tenderly as any maiden in any of the bard’s favorite romance novels. “I love you and I’ll never forgive you for letting yourself die on me like this.”

Geralt blushed. He stammered. He coughed up two or three more bloody roses and Jaskier tossed them all into the fire with rage blazing in his cornflower irises. 

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything on this gods-forsaken Continent and now you’re going to take yourself away because you’re, what, scared of something? Is it Yennefer? If she’s refusing to help you then I’ll ride all the way to Vengerberg by daybreak and then I’ll break all her fucking fi-”

“I love you, too.”

“What?” Jaskier asked, stopped mid-rant and mid-thought by the Witcher’s sudden admission. “What did you just say to me, Geralt? If I didn’t misunderstand, you said you loved me too.”

“I did. I do! I have loved you for a rather long time, actually.”

“Well, I’m glad we’ve settled that,” Vesemir said from the doorway. He turned on his heel and disappeared. “See you both for breakfast tomorrow, I’m sure. Well... maybe breakfast is being a bit optimistic. I’ll see you for lunch.”

“What did he mean?” the bard asked. His eyes flitted between the empty doorway and Geralt’s guilty grimace. “What the fuck did Vesemir mean when he said he’d see us at lunch?! You’re still clearly dying and I-”

Geralt felt his fever receding and coughed experimentally. There were only a few brown, half-dried petals that fell from his lips. No blooms. He coughed again and nothing came out of his mouth at all. He grinned and laughed, tugging Jaskier up onto the bed and against his broad chest. “Vesemir was right!”

“What the fuck is going on?!” the bard begged. His hands twisted into the neckline of Geralt’s shirt, holding him still and steady. Blue bore into gold with such heated intensity that the Witcher thought he might pass out regardless of his recently healed disease, “What just happened!?”

“I- I told you I loved you and it cured the Hanahaki!”

“You had fucking Hanahaki and I was the cause of it? Oh Geralt, I’m so sorry! I should have noticed sooner! I should hav- Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I didn’t think you loved me back.”

“You didn- Geralt, have you been paying any sort of attention for the past seven or so years? I follow you everywhere, I bandage your wounds, I put food on your plate and a pillow under your head whenever we get the chance. I bathe you and mend your clothes when your fingers are too stiff from practicing your forms to do it yourself… you utter fool. You buffoon. You great, dumb, goofy, idioti-”

He was cut off by Geralt bringing their mouths together with such gentle but insistent pressure that all Jaskier could do was melt against him. His hands unwound from the shirt and stabilized against the Witcher’s pectorals instead. He sighed into Geralt’s mouth, swallowing down the happy sounds his dearest Witcher made in return. When they were finished pouring out their affections they sat, breathless, curled against the pillows of Geralt’s enormous bed. 

A large pointer finger slipped beneath Jaskier’s chin and tilted his face up, locking their gazes, “This isn’t how I wanted you to meet my family or see Kaer Morhen for the first time, but I’m glad you came. I know the journey through the snow couldn’t have been easy, even though I’m sure there was some magical assistance.”

“For you, my love, I’d travel the pass barefoot.”

“You’d die of exposure.”

“Not if your life was on the line,” the bard murmured against those flower-chapped lips. “For you, Geralt, I could survive anything. Just as you must swear from this moment on to survive whatever you can to make it back to me.”

“Will you go back to the academy until spring?”

“I’m never leaving your side again, Geralt of Rivia. Come flora or fauna, you’re stuck with me for good.”

“Hmm. Good.”

“Just… Just don’t bring me flowers any time soon.”

[sunflowersseemhappy]

Hangman’s Scars | Julian X Tai (My Apprentice)

I thought about writing something like this (because I really wanted to focus on my apprentice) and lovely @yourguyrai gave me some initiative as we were talking. WARNING mentions of hanging, death, self-sacrifice (you know normal Julian stuff), angst (and then some fluff). 

I hope you enjoy!

How did he get here?

The clarity of the world was somewhat smudged, like he was looking at the world as if he were underwater or through tears, but neither one was affecting his eyes. For one thing he was standing outside in the open warm air of Vesuvia and for the other he had forced himself not to cry, not in front of her. Not in front of Tai. Julian instantly knew of where he was and what was happening. He was standing above a crowd on a hastily built stage in the market square, awaiting his execution.

Dread gnawing at his stomach Julian’’s head sluggishly looks to his right, previously obscured by his eyepatch he hadn’t seen the executioner standing at the lever. Unlike all the others around him, smudged like ink, the executioner wasn’t. The Hanged Man stood, raven head tilted to one side to regard Julian in the eye, Julian expected the Arcana to say something, wished they would even. This wasn’t right...

It was the only thought Julian could put together, he had done this before...

This had happened all before...

Heart rate quickening in his chest Julian’s hand flew to his throat, gloves grazing his neck and feeling the rope sat heavy on his shoulders. Not yet taught with his weight, which would soon kill him. When that lever was pulled. But he’s done this before! It was all over! It had to be. 

Tai. Where was she? Surely she was in the crowd, he needed to see her if only for a moment before the pull of the lever. Last time that was the only thing that had kept him from admitting defeat, from giving up hope. Her steady golden eyed gaze, keeping him from falling into darkness and despair. Truth be told she had done so long before this moment, she had been there.

He couldn’t find her, his eye sweeping the crowd desperately looking for any sign, but among the hazy faces it was impossible. No golden eyes, or raven hair, but she was meant to be here. Julian remembered her bing here, looking him in the eyes. In his head Julian heard his own voice echo his last words, his speech about... who cares?!

Julian knew he had said something about the count, but that memory was hazy all he truly remembered was her and the eyes that got him through this terrible, horrifying moment. Suddenly all reason and bravery went out of Julian - he needed to get out, this time it felt like he wasn’t going to come back. This time it was going to kill him.

Hands flying to his neck Julian’s hands sized the rope but all of a sudden it was heavy like lead in his hands as he fought with it, trying to duck out of it instead the rope came alive. Like the thorns he had tangled himself in, they kept his neck in place tight enough to keep the rope from slipping over his head but only barely choking him. His legs almost kicked out from beneath him as Julian fought. In desperation he looked at the Hanged Man, remorseless eyes stared back as the Arcana placed their clawed hands upon the lever. Julian’s speech was booming in his ears, deafening him as he begged. Only he could hear his last words.

Please wait, I need to see her one last time! I don’t want to die, not yet. With those final words the lever was pulled, his body was dragged down earthwards, rope strangling his neck. Scrambling for air he desperately needed, tears flew to his eyes, which pain was worse? The noose or not being able to see Tai one more time?

Julian didn’t know, all he knew as the last of the air in his lungs burned and his vision grew dark was that he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

-------------------

“Julian breathe, breathe!”

He woke up choking on air. An amber orb of light like a beacon in the dark, beckoning him up into a sitting position as he wheezed and found he could breathe. No strangling rope around his neck. Beyond the orb a shape shifted, it dimmed slightly so that it no longer blinded his eyes and at last he found Tai.

“Thank the gods, Julian are you okay? Speak to me,” despite the hour she was wide eyed and awake, her voice clear with fear and not with the usual thickness of sleep she usually had after just waking from her sleep. With a flick of her wrist a lantern lit itself on the bedside table as the orb of light dissipated. Dazed Julian couldn’t find the words, it had all felt so real...

Tai’s weight promptly shifted, her legs were straddling his hips and her hands were clinging to his upper arms, she must have been desperate to wake him. Had he truly not been breathing? Still mystified Julian ignored the trailing of her hands upwards to his shoulders until they shaped the sides of his neck. A flash of the noose, the blurry crowd, the Hanged Man themself.

“Don’t!” He jumped back, his head promptly smacking the headboard as he pulled back from Tai’s startled face. “Don’t... touch me.”

She stayed oddly silent, hands still in the air, not knowing what to do with them. Julian instantly regretted his harsh tone, but the damage was done as she blinked and slowly moved off of him. To Julian’s surprise she crawled forward and sat by him as he caught his breath. He tentatively put his own hand to his neck where just moments ago he could have sworn a noose was.

“A nightmare, right?” She spoke softly watching his hand massage his neck, “you stopped breathing. It was horrible, it was like...” A slow realization dawned on her face, and Tai’s brow furrowed as she leaned forward - warm breath fluttering over his cheeks. Her hand tentatively reached forward, asking silent permission as she took his hands away from his neck. 

Her fingertips were rough on his palms, years of working with horses and metal had made them that way, but they were the most comforting feeling in the world at that moment. So warm against his cold clammy skin, like sunshine against leaves in summer and hot springs against skin in winter. Lifting his palm to her mouth she planted a kiss upon it, holding it against her lips for a long moment. 

“You weren’t there.” Julian said horsley. Tai’s eyes flickered upward to his amber eyes meeting silver ones, both flickering in the lamp light. Gently she pulled his hands away from her lips and shuffled closer moving to sit across him, simply leaning her head against his chest in solidarity. It made Julian feel lighter somehow, but the burden of the dream was still coiled in his head. A snake that was squeezing tightly to his sense of self.

Julian’s hands slipped around her waist and he pulled her tight to his chest, pressing his face into her hair as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. Soon they gave way to heaving sobs, tears drenching the top of Tai’s head. Not that she minded, Tai knew Julian needed her embrace more than ever right now. 

“You...weren’t...there...”

“I’m here now Julian, I’ll always be here.” Tai mumbled against his chest, her hands rubbing up and down his back. She pulled back to look into his eyes. “That probably doesn’t mean much right now but-” 

“Tai, my dear,” Julian hushed her. “That means the world to me right now, I... you’ve pulled me from the depths of despair so many times now...” Julian gazed at her face, the one that had given him such strength in the past two months. She had changed so much in that time, her hair was shorter, eyes rounded by the hint of sleepness - his own fault, she spent many evenings making sure he rested before she did - and she wore different clothes to deal with the adventures he dragged her around on. 

“That day, you made me braver than I have ever felt in my life. Every day you make me stronger than I have ever been, my love...” Julian’s words dissolved in his throat, but Tai knew (as always) what he meant to say. Nodding she leaned up and placed the briefest of kisses to his lip, his eyes swept down to tenderly regard her. 

She regarded him with the same look, snuggling into his side as his arm draped over her shoulder and they fell asleep as such. The dream would haunt Julian again on other evenings but he was ready for them. 

[sigynpenniman]

A Minor Injury - Garashir Fluff

Author note: I’ve been writing this weekend, this is what came out. Very early Garashir - think a couple days after Past Prologue. There’s not necessarily any canon support for Garak having any problems with doctors, but Garak definitely has some anxieties beyond just the claustrophobia. We don’t ever see him interact with any doctors who aren’t Julian, so I’m declaring “The ground is soft and I am ready to dig” with this one. Danny accuses me of projecting but...of course not. Me? Projecting? never. Also, watch as I learn how to use the read more feature, and keep the 15 mile long posts off everyone’s dashes!

You’re bleeding.

Garak looked down. A thin trickle of red liquid ran down the back of his hand. He winced as the cut began to sting. One slip with a cutter...

It’s fine. It’ll heal. You don’t need treatment. Minor injuries do not justify medical intervention. Keep working. Stop crying, Elim. Stop whining, Elim. Carry on with your work.

No. That is over. He’s not here to tell you what to do any more. Garak breathed and looked around his shop. This is your life now.

He looked at his hand again just in time to see the blood threatening to drip onto the pale fabric beneath. He grabbed a bit of fabric from the scrap pile and mopped the blood from the back of his hand.

It doesn’t matter what Tain would have told you. This is your decision. Does that need treatment? Garak processed the thought. It was a minor cut. Images flashed through his mind, memories the last time he needed medical treatment. A military doctor, leaning over him. It’s not that bad. You’ll live. This is going to hurt. He could still feel the nearly unbearable pain of the blade slicing into his skin, the sensation of the small chip of metal being removed, the burning, burning of the antiseptic.Do not show pain. Do not show fear. He could remember, as much shame as it carried, the feeling of a single tear biting at his eye. The sharp bite of a needle going through his skin as the doctor sutured the gaping wound in his thigh.

Garak centered himself again. No, this definitely does not need treatment. He did his best to get back to his work. By the time he pulled himself out of the memory, the blood was beginning to drip again. The fabric he was sewing on was blue, pale blue, and the red dripping down his hand threatened it. He would have to stay on top of it to keep it from damaging the fabric, but that was manageable. Stitch, cut, mop up the blood, stitch, cut, mop up the blood. He carried on this way for at least 15 minutes.

That really should have stopped bleeding by now. Garak night not have known much about medicine, but he knew that cuts were not supposed to bleed forever, and he couldn’t keep up with the dripping forever. He took a deep breath. This is not Cardassia, and this is not the occupation anymore. The doctors here are from the federation. It was time to take this to the infirmary, no matter how much he disliked the idea.

He carefully put down his tools, shut the shop, and stepped off in the direction of the infirmary. He was struck as soon as he stepped in by how different the room looked than he remembered. Everything was brighter and cleaner than it had ever been before. The air smelled of antiseptic. Antiseptic. He was sure he could feel the stinging in his thigh again. He could feel his heartbeat rising, rising-

“Excuse me, sir? Are you in need of treatment?”

The clear, high pitched voice of a young Bajoran woman spoke from his left. He turned to make eye contact with her and carefully prepared his words, so as not not to stutter.

“Yes, thank you. I seem to have cut my hand. It seems to be bleeding a bit more than it is supposed to.” The young Bajoran woman smiled and motioned for Garak to follow her.

“Doctor Bashir will be with you in just a moment” she said, her voice cheerful and bright. How can anyone in a hospital, a space of such pain, be so happy - wait, Bashir? The doctor. The handsome one. The one you met yesterday. Garak had forgotten. The young Bajoran woman led Garak over to an examination table and motioned him to sit on it. She turned and walked away from him, still smiling. Garak’s heart was racing, blood pressure rising. The room suddenly seemed small, smaller than he remembered. No, Elim, the walls are not closing in on you. He tried to distract himself from that particular panic by focusing on the other one. Prepare yourself for the pain. Do not show pain. Do not show anxiety. You are an agent - no, former agent, of the Obsidian Order. You do not know fear. Ha. If only that were true.

“Mister Garak!”

He’s more handsome than you remembered. Garak did his best to affect a smile.

“Just Garak. Plain, simple, Garak.” You’ve definitely said that before. “Hello Doctor.”

Julian nodded in deference. “Right. I remember you saying so. How can I help you today, plain, simple, Garak?” he asked. He’s smiling. He looks kind. No. That’s a lie. It’s always a lie with doctors. There are no kind doctors. The walls are closing in on you. Leave. Get out now.

“Thank you for your concern, Doctor, but I think this may have been a false alarm. I assure you, I am just fine. I think I’ll be going now, if you don’t mind.”

“Nice try, Garak. You came in here for a reason.” The doctor arranged his body between Garak and the door. “What was it?”

Run. He’s pushing too hard. He’s got intentions. Who knows what they are.

“I found our conversation the other day most interesting. I simply wanted to say hello.” Garak lied. Julian’s body language softened.

“It’s alright, Garak. You’re safe here.”

Do not show weakness.

“Of course I am, Doctor. Why would anyone suggest otherwise?”

A corner of the doctor’s mouth turned upwards. The expression was almost affectionate. “I can’t imagine who, Garak. So, since that’s established, do you want to tell me what brought you here?”

Fine. You win, Doctor.

“I seem to have injured my hand while cutting some fabric. I’m sure it would have been fine, only…it seems to continue to bleed, and I wouldn’t want to get blood on the fabric.”

“Of course not.” Julian added with a knowing nod.

Show him the hand. No. Show him the hand.

“Let’s see that hand.”

Garak hesitated. You’re going to have to show him the hand. Prepare for the pain.

Julian took a step closer to his patient. “It’s alright” he said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Garak lifted his hand hesitantly towards the Doctor. This is going to hurt. Garak held his breath, anticipating the discomfort, the feeling of a hand wrapped too tightly around his, the feeling of his joints creaking and aching under uncareful handling. The doctor wrapped his hand around Garak’s and drew it gently towards his face.

That’s different. Julian traced a finger along the edge of the wound, studying it intently. Garak took a deep, shaky breath. The doctor’s fingers were gentle against his skin. Garak’s stomach fluttered. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him so tenderly. He had prepared himself so intently, but there was no pain, no manhandled discomfort here – only a kind of physical kindness. It was a completely unfamiliar sensation. He raised his eyes to the doctor’s face. Julian’s expression was soft and focused. Garak was sure he was looking at the most beautiful man he had ever seen. The doctor turned the injured hand over in his and met his patient’s eyes.

“It’s only a minor cut,” he reassured. “The back of the hand is dense with blood vessels, so it tends to bleed more than you might expect. I’ll have you back to your sewing in no time.”

Garak nodded. He was unable to really speak. Julian rested the injured hand back in his patient’s lap. He turned to wall behind him and produced an unfamiliar instrument, and completely familiar rag. So much for a painless experience. Garak flinched. He had almost accepted the doctor’s kindness, but the memories kept flooding back into his mind. It burns. Please stop. Oh, shut up. Do you want to die of an infection? Julian lifted the injured hand again. He happened to wrap his fingers around it in such a way that they caught the pulse point on the inside of Garak’s wrist, and he paused when he realized his patient’s pulse was racing again.

“This all makes you rather anxious, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Anxious? Me? Never, Doctor.”

Julian raised an incredulous eyebrow and went to press the damp cloth against Garak’s hand. He felt his patient flinch, again. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated gently. Garak looked unconvinced.

“It’s just bacitracin, Garak. It’s not going to hurt. I promise.” Julian tenderly cleaned the dried blood from around the edges of the wound, and smiled a little as he felt Garak’s hand relaxing into his. “See?” he added, in a tone of “I told you so”. Content with the state of the wound, he lifted the unfamiliar instrument.

“It’s a dermal regenerator,” Julian answered the unspoken question, doing his best to keep his patient’s barely hidden fear at bay. “It won’t hurt either.”

You’re acting like a child. Garak watched the doctor pass the instrument, just as painlessly as he had promised, over the wound. The cut on his hand slowly disappeared. You’ve embarrassed yourself here, today. Good luck recovering from this.

“How’s that?” Julian asked with a smile, releasing Garak’s hand. Garak studied the skin on the back of his hand. It’s like you never even cut yourself. Impressive. He flexed the hand back and forth a bit, and nodded contently.

“Much better. Thank you, doctor. And I would like to offer my sincerest apologies for how I acted here today. It’s unforgivable.”

Julian’s expression softened again. He rested a hand on Garak’s shoulder.

“The Cardassian military didn’t produce particularly compassionate doctors, did it?”

“No, Doctor. It did not.”

Garak could feel the weight of the other man’s hand on his shoulder. It was a heavy, comforting reminder of a safe presence. Garak wasn’t used to feeling safe in anyone’s presence. It crossed his mind that he would prefer to be in this particular presence as much as possible.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Garak. Certainly not for being afraid. But I assure you, you will never have anything to fear from me.”

Garak’s heart flickered. The doctor was so handsome, and there was something about the kindness in his green eyes that made him irresistible. Oh wow, he has green eyes. Garak hadn’t fully noticed them before.

“Thank you, Doctor. You’ve been very kind to me.” Kinder than anyone has ever been before. Kinder than you can process.

“Everyone deserves a little kindness, Garak. No exceptions.”

You’re in love with him. Oh, You bet I am.

“I ought to thank you for your excellent care, Doctor. Would you, perhaps, allow me to take you to dinner?”

Julian smiled broadly. He looked as if he had been waiting for the question.

“I would love to, Mister Garak.”

Good job, Garak. Look what happens when you actually let people see what you’re feeling. He’s actually going to have dinner with you. Maybe more than once. Play your cards right, Garak. Maybe this is a presence you can keep close after all.

Aren’t you glad you decided to seek treatment for that hand?

[thecardsimagine]

Of shipwrecks and seafoam

Summary: Let me tell you a story about a pirate and a merman, finding a love that goes beyond insecurities and death. Let yourself be taken away onto a journey about doubt and secrets, understanding and a bond that even goes beyond the deep blue of the ocean.

Pairing: Merman!Julian Devorak x Pirate!Reader (Nonbinary) Rating: Mature because of swearing and suggestive content Warning: Blood, Death, Killing Genre: Romance, Drama, Alternate Universe ___________________________________

a/n: I would like to say that it’s over, but please wait for the Epilogue tomorrow. Epilogue and a few sappy words from me, because I am already crying just thinking about ending this story. This has been such an incredible journey, I am just... overwhelmed really. But since it’s not over yet, I shall be quiet for now lol. Please enjoy!

Tagging: @julians-chest-hair / @sireennotsiren ___________________________________

Chapter 12 - The Mainland

Shortly after your near-death experience, you slowly opened your eyes. First thing you noticed now that you were back to conscious, was that you couldn't move your limbs at all. They all feet numb and detached. With sheer willpower, you started tapping your fingertips, lifting them only inches and pushing them down against the wood. You couldn't even open your mouth, or really see, even though your eyes were open. It was like a veil that hung over your senses. The faint rushing of water was all you could hear, and you did feel the wood under your fingers, even in your delirium.

No matter how hard you tried to look up and explore your surroundings, you couldn't bring up the strength to do so, a mild panic rushing through your veins. Desperately you ordered your body to move, but before you could concentrate on more specific parts to act, you felt something lay over your fingers, softly moving them up and down and stretching them until you could feel the blood rushing through them again, the numbness dispersing. Then the touch continued to work up your hand and your wrist, arm and to your shoulder. Some part of you wanted to express some concern for what you were feeling, but you were strangely calm as if it was a familiar touch. When the long fingers under your neck helped you turn over onto your back, you could finally look up at the blue, clear sky, though it was soon covered by a darker view.

“- - - -!” You knew something was making a noise, but you couldn't hear it. “[Na-] - - -!” There it was again, a little clearer now. You groaned lightly as your neck was secured in one hand, and being pulled at, the bones popping under the practice. And with a loud 'BLUP' in your head, all your senses came rushing right back in, hitting you with a force you never knew you had inside of you.

At one dash, you could hear the seagulls screeching above you, the water bubbling at your sides and blinking a few times, your vision cleared too. For the first time, you realized something drastically. You were alive and well! Aside from the numbness you still felt, you were doing better than you were before and you took some deep breathes, taking in the salty air of the ocean. "Thank god…" you heard a familiar voice whisper, focusing on the person looking down on you. "You're alive…"

"Julian?" you croaked, unbelieving of what you were seeing. "Yes, my Love. Exactly." Taking your hand in his he brought it up to his face, helping you feel him so you could be sure it was him. Your fingertips brushed over the slick skin you were used to and you very well felt the little kisses he put on your knuckles before laying your hand down again. For what felt like an eternity, you could only lay there, stare at him in disbelieve.

Even before you had passed out, you had come far. You had absolutely made sure he could not find you, and yet, here he was, eyes glistening with worry but also relief. If you hadn't convinced yourself before that he was not an illusion, you could barely believe how beautiful he looked now. Like always, he was just stunning. It was a little bit like seeing him for the first time again, though your heart was so sure it was him, jumping excitedly in your chest.

"Am I… Am I dead?" you asked, feeling the tears shoot up into your eyes. "No!" he squeaked, only to clear his throat right after and calm his voice. "No, you are very much alive. Luckily, I wasn't too late-" Suddenly, he stopped mid-sentence, seemingly remembering something. "I'm, ah-" Ducking away and out of your sight, a hint of panic rose inside of you, because you couldn't move to see him.

"Where are you going?" you asked. For the first time, it was you to ask this question. Immediately, he jumped back onto the raft, placing his arms around your sides protectively. "Nowhere! Not anywhere! I mean- If you don't mind…" His face appearing right over you again you could watch as a frown formed, his insecurities laying bare in his expression. Immediately, you knew what he was hinting at, and you felt the first hints of guilt rise inside of you.

"Don't leave," you whispered and his expression softened immediately, head sinking down to your shoulder. You felt his hands move under yours, softly kneading them and relaxing the tension with the motion. Closing your eyes, you just let him work his care, still feeling rather exhausted. "Tell me, when you fall asleep again," he mumbled, and you nodded, but really, sleeping was the last thing on your mind right now.

"How did you find me… I must have been so far from the island now, right?" You could feel him nod against your shoulders. "After you left, your raft got spotted… Mermaids, they- They are quick to deliver such messages. I don't know how to measure the distance, but by the time I arrived here, it was… almost too late for you…" Clenching your jaw, you could only assume what he was trying to say.

"Why did you come back? After all I said... I mean, I wouldn't have searched for me after how cruel I was to you..." Your voice began to break when your memories rushed back, his hands moving up to work on your arms as he hushed you softly. "My family, they encouraged me to go- I couldn't just let you die, [Name]... I am sorry, I know you didn't want to see me anymore."

You could hear the hint of vibration in his voice, a clear sign of his own feelings overwhelming him. He was more open than ever, vulnerable even. When he met your eyes with his, you could see the insecurities and guilt that laid inside of them, and for once, you didn't doubt what you saw. More so, you wanted to believe desperately in what you were witnessing, even if it could have been the untruth.

"I lied," you confessed, tears spilling from your eyes. "Everything I said was a lie, Julian, I-" Biting your own lip, you tried to hold back the sniffles. Quickly, he brought one hand up to wipe away your tears carefully, making sure his claws did not hurt you in such a sensitive area like your face. "I know," he mumbled calmly, his touch comforting against your skin.

Sniffling, you looked at him questioningly. "Because you love me ~" he purred, drawing out the word with four letters teasingly. Immediately, you felt a rush of heat coming up into your cheeks as he almost sang these words with a wide, toothy grin. But you couldn't hold back some laughs when he started to wiggle his eyebrows. "You said that a lot! 'Julian, I love you, I love you so much!' you said, in that kind of voice!" Hearing him try to sound like you made you laugh harder as it sounded like a weak attempt at acting. You quickly had to stop yourself, the rumbles hurting your lungs, but at least you smiled again, which Julian acknowledged with a pleased chuckle.

His hands slowly wandered to your shoulders and neck, hitting some very tense spots. "When I reached you, you didn't seem like you would make it. And there was a huge storm which you probably didn't notice anymore, that far gone you were already." He seemed thoughtful, brows furrowed. "I couldn't do anything but hold you down to the thing you created here until the weather passed and even then, all I could do was hope that you'd make it." His last words got more and more quiet until it was barely a mumble.

"I covered you in medicine, but it was a desperate attempt. I couldn't know what it would do to you really..." Reaching out, he lifted your arm up for you to see. Especially with your skin heavily kissed by the sun you could make out the long scar starting from your previous infection and ending somewhere near your elbow, right next to countless small ones which you had suffered from sunburns. "I'm so sorry, [Name]. If only I had reached you in time, this might have not happened to your body."

"It's fine, Julian," you sighed. "It's my own fault, after all. I was a fool. All I ever did was run away, this must be my punishment for doing all these cruel things to you." Julian listened to you intently, the mood heavy over you two for a while. You couldn't know what he was thinking, but you just hoped it was not the same that you were thinking about yourself. Taking a deep breath, he lifted your second arm too, letting you see the marks on your skin, something you would carry with you for a lifetime. Julian made sure to lay you down carefully again, every limb in its place before ducking away for a second and moving around the raft, pulling himself up onto it with no effort.

Softly, the boat swayed on top of the water as it adjusted to his weight, but he was unbothered by it. His hands brushed over your legs as he muttered, "Here too," before eventually reaching your feet. Unwillingly, your body flinched, overcome by a ticklish sensation of him against your skin. Surprised, he looked at you, his eyes piercing you with keen interest. "That tickles," you explained, and he eagerly took this information. "Good, good," he noted. "That means you didn't hurt any important nerves." Tenderly, he let his fingers brush a bit more over the sole of your feet, seemingly enjoying the small flinches you made.

"Julian, stop," you giggled, and he chimed in joyfully, "Alright, alright!" Without setting your foot down, he massaged every toe and every inch of your sole, rolling your ankles and stretching the muscles. "I made sure to put you into a lot of seaweed and medicine to heal whatever I could, but I am still sorry that I couldn't restore you back to your original self," he lamented, sadness glistening in his eyes. "There's worse than that…" you mumbled, fidgeting with a dry part of seaweed you found lying next to your hand. "I could be dead."

He smiled meekly at you, moving on to your knee and the other leg before speaking again. "After I thought you were pretty much healed, you started to hallucinate. I really thought I was going to lose you…" All of his words made you remember the strange sequence of dreams you had and the encounter with the darkness that tried to swallow you. "But you were there…" you mumbled, trying to make sense of all of it.

"Yeah, well… I talked to you. I- Really, I just wanted to patch you up and leave, but I couldn't bring myself to it, I'm so sorry, I know I should have left when I could but I-"

"Julian, stop!" His hand was quenching your foot as he fell into a spiral of apologies. It cost you a lot of strength to lift the hand closest to him, but at least a little bit you were able to touch his tail, poking against the fish part. Through this, you were able to gain his attention, making him snap out of it and take your small hand into his. "I am so glad you are here," you comforted him, brushing your fingers against his.

He flushed visibly, laying down your legs that he was still holding and leaning forward. With a firm hold on you, he pulled you up onto his lap, cradling you like a child. "And then I would hold you like this," he purred pleasantly, rocking you in his arm. "I think I understand now," you mumbled, letting yourself be held by him, a touch you could only enjoy genuinely. "You were there all along, Julian. All the time, I felt you in my dreams, you… You saved me, Julian."

Looking up at him, a sight developed that you would have never expected to see. In a matter of second, tears built in Julian's eyes, dripping over the border of his eyes and falling down and onto the raft. "Julian…" you mumbled, and he gasped softly. "I'm so sorry, I just couldn't help but imagine you dying all this time, holding you now is like a dream."

Tears shooting up into your eyes too now, you tried to hold them back, but it was impossible to contain these feelings. "I'm so sorry I made you go through all of this. It's all my fault-" He interrupted you with a shake of his head. "No… No, nothing is your fault. I should have told you everything from the beginning, I never wanted to put you into this situation. I am so sorry for everything that happened, [Name]."

"Julian…" With determination and some help from him as he immediately reacted, you brought your hand up to his face, cupping his cheek while he held you in position. "I love you. I am sorry I didn't tell you sooner, it's just… I was so scared because I thought you wouldn't understand, but in the end, you had to teach me about love." Chortling, he pressed your hand a little tighter against him, as if he was scared to lose it again.

"I love you too, [Name]. And I think I really mean it this time! I promise I won't lie to you anymore, so please, promise you won't leave me again or send me away?" "I won't, I swear!" Pushing your nails into his jaw tenderly, you gave him the signal to come down, which he complied to gladly. His lips were still as rough and all over the place, tasting quite salty even after all this time, but you didn't mind it as much, you just wanted to feel him, hold him close, not let go. Only for a while, you managed to push away some evil, lingering thoughts in the back of your mind, but they became a nag real quick, latest when Julian pulled away again.

"Will you… Will you still hunt humans?" you asked shyly, feeling an all to familiar sting in your heart. Even with all the love you felt and the urge to not separate from him again, this thought haunted you like no other. "No, my Love. Not at all, I mean it." He looked thoughtful for a moment, staring out onto the ocean and kissing your knuckles. But quickly, he looked back at you. "When I told you about the alternatives to eat, I did not lie. We can survive with those just fine, but we…"

Julian stopped himself, taking a deep breath. "What is it?" you asked, unable to hide the worry. This topic must have been just as nerve-wracking for him as it was for you. "Well, I will… I-" The suspense killed you, a trillion thoughts shooting through your mind. "Julian," you said as firm as you could. "What will happen?" A meek smile spread on his face as he looked you directly into the eyes, his crystal-like grey eyes sparkling with a mix of realization and excitement.

"I will age then, [Name]..." A small chuckle escaped him before he had to look up. "I will grow old and my tail heavy until I can't swim anymore and then I will just… die, like you. It's funny thinking of my vanity."

"Oh, Julian…"

“Say, [Name]. Will you still love me even then, when I am not so pretty and youthful anymore?" You could feel his grip on your hand tightening, a sort of insecurity hushing over his face. "Of course," you whispered, feeling small tears of joy push out of your eyes again. The thought of living more or less normal, together, growing old, gave you a completely new look at your own life. You felt like this was going to be a thing for forever, even though you two were two totally different species. All of a sudden you felt bad as you thought back to all the times you had wished to die, though there was Julian, who wished to stay by your side so desperately, he even was giving up on his eternal life for you. But there was another unspoken truth that was nagging you, something you had never told him.

"There were things I did, Julian… Bad things. I- We robbed other ships and we sunk them, people died because of me, do you… Do you think you can love me still? If you can't then I can understand it, you can just- Just leave me… I was so afraid to tell you that before." A hiccup hit you unexpectedly, your feelings lying bare to him now, and you tried to avoid his eyes, not finding the courage to look at him. "I guess…" he mumbled after a while. "Neither of us has clean hands, but I still think I'd rather stay. Just don't travel anywhere I can't go, please?" Carefully, you let out a long breath stuck in your throat, trying to calm your racing, panicked heart.

"It's for forever then," you whispered, and he nodded. "Don't you dare swim away either, Julian." Reciprocating his hold on your hand with a tight grip, you made him swear to stay if you did. Julian gladly helped you up to hug him when you asked, supporting your body which was still very weak, but you used whatever strength you had to tightly press him against you, wanting him to physically feel your own feelings, if only for a while.

A little thud was what made you eventually aware of your surroundings, you felt his hand rub over your back comfortingly as he sighed. "There is, however, one more thing." He pulled you back, his lips brushing your cheeks for a moment, while his eyes fixated on your face. "Ah, I love you so much, I hope you know," he whispered, and you nodded, a little confused about his actions. His tail moved beneath you in the water, while the raft rumbled and shook. "We are here…" Lifting you and turning you around, he let you see for yourself where you two had just stranded. While the cliffs kept anyone from seeing you two, it allowed you to see the city walls of your hometown, man build and erected high above the water, fending off whatever could lurk in the deep, blue ocean behind you. "My home… But Julian… How?"

"I found a flag on the ship you sunk with, and I remembered seeing this flag before. I got around a lot when I was younger." Chuckling, he let your feet into the shallow water, letting you feel the sand underneath your toes. "Do you think you can stand? We don't have to rush this, but if you want…"

Taking a deep breath, you concentrated on getting back on your legs, though as much as he could, Julian held you up until you were sure that you were standing on your own. Carefully, you set your first few steps back onto the mainland, tears rolling from your eye as the realization hit you in your whole body. You were back, you had made it. Maybe not alone, but you still had managed to get back to your home. Though there was one thing that you'd have to leave if you really were to go.

"But Julian, what about you? If I go now…"

Julian simply shrugged the slightest hint of sadness in his eyes. You instantly felt guilt wash over you as you realized what he was doing, immediately tumbling back and falling to your knees. He quickly caught you midfall, preventing anything worse than a slight scrap of your knee. "It doesn't matter [Name]. I will always be right here, waiting." You could hear the determination in his voice, and you could barely live with the knowledge that he was ready to let you go back to your home and loved ones, even though it meant leaving him behind all alone. Cupping his cheeks, you nodded in understanding, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

"You know that I will be back, right?" He smiled, and you weren't sure if he believed you or not, but you hoped he did with all your heart. "You promise?" he asked quietly.

"I promise you, Julian. I won't break it this time." Kissing him, you hoped it would convey your feelings more, and he responded with the same intensity that you had.

"Will you promise me forever?" he asked, face flushed lightly while his hand came up to caress your cheeks too.

"Forever."

[polynymph]

What Once Was Chapter 11

Heeey! Look how quick this one was out! It was really fun to write this chapter! Hope you enjoy it! Thanks again!

TW: None, just some tooth-rotting fluff <3

Huddled in the dark corner of the library, hearts thundering in their chest, Armyah and Julian shared panicked glances as the sound of keys turning and scraping metal came from behind their only exit.

“Armyah,” the doctor hissed, “we need to leave. Now.” Another lock clicks open, echoing through the quiet room. Two muffled voices, Nadia and Portia, were heard from the hallway.

“Oops, dropped the key ring again!” Portia panicked, hoping to give her brother and the magician ample warning, “I’m so sorry, milady, my fingers are so slippery today!” Another click.

“...It’s quite alright, Portia,” the Countess’s voice was even, “perhaps I should try, on account of your slippery fingers.” She was irritated.

“Whaaaaat?” the servant’s voice raised several octaves, “I can’t have you opening doors for me, milady!” She laughed nervously, “I promise it’ll only be a moment...” Click. Julian turned to Armyah, panic-stricken.

“Armyah, listen to me,” his face was serious, his hands steeled her shoulders, “I won’t have you caught in my mess.” The magician looked at him oddly, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak, “as soon as that door opens...you run, you hide, you get out of here and find Asra." He looks over his shoulder to glance at the door, but still ducking down in case they come in. Click. “She’ll be too busy arresting me to notice you.”

“No,” she vehemently shook her head, “I’m not leaving you here.” Julian groaned at her defiance. If they weren’t in such a predicament, it’d be almost adorable.

“You need to go!” he begged, slightly shaking her shoulders, “Use some hocus pocus, make a hasty getaway, anything!” Click. “Whatever you have to do, Armyah,” his stormy eye was filled with pain, pleading, “you have to stay safe.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” click, “you’re not facing this alone!”

“Damn it, Armyah,” he seethed, “There isn’t room in this library for two self-sacrificing fools!” Click. “If you’re caught, you’ll hang right beside me.”

“So be it,” the magician stands her ground. Two clicks in a row, the door was almost unlocked. The doctors hands were shaking over her shoulders, “We haven’t even discovered anything! Are you really willing to die without answers?”

“I’ve been ready to die since I came back to Vesuvia,” he argued, “a few unanswered questions won’t make me turn in my coffin.” Armyah grimaced, face paling at the thought. Shaking her head, she crossed her arms. The magician made it very clear she wasn’t moving.

“I won’t leave you!” she declared through gritted teeth. Click. Julian stared at her in a mixture of awe and confusion, like she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Fine,” he sighed, defeated, “then let’s get the hell out of here.” Releasing her upper arms, his gaze shots toward the window and follows the tree far down below. Click. “Can you fly?” he asked desperately, turning to the fortune-teller who looked at him oddly, “Turn into some giant bird?”

“NoIcan’tturnintoagiantbird!” Armyah practically shrilled. Julian raised his arms defensively, glancing around for another idea. Click. In a last ditch effort, the magician cast her magic out. Frantically reaching for something, anything. Then, she feels it: a whisper on the very edge of her energy, a hidden thing waiting to be discovered. She instinctively grabbed the doctors hand, pulling him toward the ebb in her magic. Behind a bookshelf was two marble pillars framing a wall, ivy slithering along the length of it like snakes. Using the tips of her fingers, she traces the cracks that spider up the stone. Unable to decipher what she’s doing, Julian watches her brow crease in concentration while bouncing on the balls of his feet. Click. A deeper carving divots under her finger. Brushing the foliage out of the way reveals a small carving, a symbol. A serpent-like symbol Armyah knows well, ‘Faust!’ she releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding, chest filling with hope. Asra’s magic is almost palpable. “It’s a portal,” the fortune-teller breathes, “I think I can unlock it.” Chocolate eyes flicker from Julian to the direction on the door. “I just need time.” Click. The final lock unlatches and the door slowly swings open; they were out of time. They were hidden behind a bookshelf, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“Armyah…” Julian barely whispered, taking her hand in his. He looked as if he would walk out and surrender. She looked to him imploringly, shaking her head. He takes a breath and squeezes her hand, about to make a move into the light-

“Countess?” a melodious voice echoed through the library, “Were you looking for me?” Ice shot through Armyah’s veins. ‘Asra?!’ The real Asra! How did he know? Did it have something to do with the magic she felt?

“Ah, Asra...” Nadia said coolly, “Not in the library after all?” Her heels clicked as she stepped toward the magician, “where’s Armyah?”

“I sent her to the shop to pick up an ingredient for me,” he fibbed. Armyah could practically hear the Countess frown.

“Pity...” she sighed, “she could have joined us for dinner.” She waved away the thought, “you will join me, will you not?”

“I’d be delighted, Countess!” he sounded sincere. Nadia turned to leave with Portia at her heels, but Asra didn’t follow. He looks to where his apprentice is hiding and smiles when she peeks her head out from behind the bookshelf. Armyah could feel Julian stiffen, for a moment she thinks he might run out to confront him. Instead, Asra turns abruptly to follow the Countess down the hallway. Things unspoken were still hanging heavily in the air. A shimmering behind them, the stone wall ripples like water in a pond as the portal activates. Without waiting for him to respond, the fortune-teller pulled Julian through the portal and to freedom.

The sun is low on the horizon as the pair stumbled out of the archway and into the garden. The swaying willow tree swayed in greeting, the vines trail to the fountain pool and gently disturb the water. They were out of the palace, but they weren’t in the clear yet. Julian still wasn’t safe here.

“Come on,” Armyah said breathlessly, “I know a way out from here.” The doctor nodded and let her lead him down the rocky path through the garden. Coincidentally, this was the same path she took days previous that lead to the door out of the grounds and in the ally of the Rowdy Raven and the gangly doctor who invited her for a drink. A warmth spread in her chest at the memory and she only then realized how close they had been walking next to each other. Every so often their hands would brush against each other, but neither dared speak in fear of getting caught. Julian nudged her ever-so-slightly with his hip and crack and toothy grin when she looked at him. Her laugh was soundless, but genuine all the same. However, the sound of rustling leaves and footsteps ahead caused both to tense, ready to run at a moments notice.

“There you are!” thankfully, it was Portia, “whew, I wasn’t sure I’d find you!”

“Pasha!” Julian breathed a sigh of relief, “you’re alright!” The younger Devorak rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he huffed sarcastically, “we’re not all fugitives of the law, Ilya.” She turned to Armyah and winked, “thank the Gods for your handsome magician friend, right?” The fortune-teller forced a laugh, still uneasy from remaining on the palace grounds. “Ooh boy, was I surprised to see him! I didn’t know what we were going to do and then poof!” her fingers splayed out in front of her, “there he was! You magicians are really amazing, huh?” Portia’s eyes were wide in adoration, “how did he know where to find us?”

“I...don’t know,” Armyah shook her head. She hadn’t left a note that morning. Maybe Faust was watching? She did have a habit of being in the right place at the right time. Regardless, Portia shrugged it off.

“Anyways, it’s not safe to keep moving until the guard changes shifts later,” she warned, “I can take you to my cottage in the mean time. The guards don’t come around there.” She lead the doctor and magician deeper into the garden until fireflies started to glow softly, mirroring the twinkling stars above them. Portia’s cottage looked just as inviting as it had the other day. Julian and Armyah settled on a log bench as their host bustled in the kitchen. It had gotten colder as the moon soared higher in the sky. Unprompted, the doctor had draped his waist coat around her shoulders so that he was clad only in his billowing undershirt. She watched mirthfully as his eye followed a firefly floating lazily past his aquiline nose. He looked more at ease, but something was obviously bothering him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she offered quietly, snuggling deeper into his large jacket. He smiled down at her tenderly.

“Waste of a penny if you ask me,” he chuckled as she playfully hit his arm, “no, it’s just...I, uh, I didn’t expect to see Asra again.” The magician nodded, empathically. She didn’t know the details behind his and her teacher’s relationship, but she had gathered it was complicated, “he really saved our hides back there.” Armyah chewed her lip in thought. She had questions, but she didn’t want to pry.

“You two have history?” she asked carefully. He sighed heavily.

“Yeah...” he didn’t look at her, “looking back, I think I made a lot of assumptions about him...about us.” A blush rush across his pale face, as if he had just realized who he was talking to, “but I’m not, uh...I’m not holding on to it, you know.” The doctor coughed nervously into his gloved hand, “I think it’s better for both of us if I moved on. From what I remember, I think I might have been pretty selfish with him.” Armyah tucked her legs under her in an effort to get closer. “Gods, I hope I can be a better man than before...”

“I think you’re doing a fine job,” she smiled up at him. He returned the gesture with his own roguish grin.

“I don’t know...” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “Jury is still out.”

“Then call me judge, jury, and executioner,” they shared a laugh, but she didn’t miss the mischievous glint in his eye.

“My dear, I would gladly be punished by you any day,” he purred, sending a shiver rippling down her spine.

“Is that so?” she teased, his lips hovered inches from hers, “well, in that case-”

“Soups on!” Portia burst on to the porch, causing the pair to sit up straight and at an arms length away from each other, “eat up quick, we gotta get you out of here soon.” She set a plate down in front of each of them and plopped down beside them to tuck into her dinner. Pepi wasn’t far behind her, sniffing curiously at the steaming food. Julian looked stricken, as if he had just realized they were at Portia’s home.

“Look at everything you’ve accomplished for yourself,” his voice was mournful, but proud, “you even learned to cook one of babushka’s secret recipes.” Armyah flushed a brilliant shade of crimson, her heart skipping a beat as his accent slipped through. Luckily, neither sibling seemed to notice, “I haven’t had this in a long time...it tastes just the same, Pasha.” He indulged in another hearty bite. “Though, it’s a bit undersalted, don’t you think?” Portia looked triumphantly at her brother, as if she were waiting for him to say something like that.

“You’ve got enough salt for all of us, Ilyushka,” all three laughed wholeheartedly. Conversation flowed easily and free. It’s almost enough to allow them to forget everything else that has happened. Comfortable silence followed after as Julian looked forlornly at his hands and empty plate. Pepi took the opportunity to climb onto his lap, purring loudly, and curled up into a little ball.

“I...” he paused, unsure how to continue. He scratched the small seal cat behind the ears, “you have a good life here, Pasha.” He shook his head in an effort to clear the heavy thought from his face, but only succeeded in ruffling his messy auburn hair. “ Do you think...if things weren’t the way are,” never once did he take his eye off the feline in front of him, “if I was a free man- a better man...do you think I could have this?” Portia took the empty plates inside the house to give the couple some privacy.

“I don’t see why not,” Armyah shrugged. She took his free hand that wasn’t giving Pepi attention and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Can I?” he asked, finally looking at her, “even if we clear my name, even if we spend every night together...” He didn’t look convinced. “Something will ruin this feeling,” he shook his head, “maybe I’ll sabotage it myself without meaning to.”

“Is it so hard to let yourself be happy?” the magician asked tenderly, “do you sincerely believe that you don’t deserve anything good that happens to you?” Julian breathed a laugh, it sounded almost ridiculous coming from someone else’s mouth.

“Yes...” it wasn’t a lie. Surely he must’ve did something bad, why would he feel so awful otherwise?

“We’re in this together, Ilya,” Portia’s voice made them both jump, “if you start to ruin things, one of us will stop you until you learn to stop yourself,” She placed a confident, affirming hand on her brother’s shoulder. “I believe in you,” she winked, “you’ve made it this far, haven’t you?” The doctor scoffed, but he was smiling.

“Yes, and I’ve made a mess of things along the way,” there was no malice in his voice. I was calm, unnervingly so. “Maybe I, uh...maybe my mistake was trying to do everything alone.” Both girl froze, looking between in and each other. This was a major breakthrough! They almost couldn’t believe their ears!

“Who are you and what have to done with my brother?” Portia joked, laughing wholeheartedly. Julian rolled his eyes despite himself.

“I thought if I kept you two out of it, I could keep you safe,” he explained, “but you jut barreled on ahead and involved yourself anyway.” Then, he was solemn once again and turned desperately to Armyah and his sister. “I think...I think I need your help.” He expected teasing at his expense, he was fully prepared for it. Instead, a reassuring hand on each pallid shoulder.

“We’ll figure this out, Ilya,” Portia smiled, “as long as we’re together.”

“If you want answers, we’ll find them,” the magician affirmed. Tears in his eye, he wrapped an arm around each of his companions and pulled them close for a hug. Armyah’s eyes were misty as well and Portia cried unashamedly. They stayed like that for a prolonged minute.

“I, uh...” Julian sniffed, “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.” Portia wiped away hot tears that blurred her vision.

“No one is surprised,” she chuckled though soft sobs, “you’ve always been dense.” The doctor playfully nudged her. “But you got it, eventually.” The servant then yawned loudly, looking a little sheepish about it. “Oops, I better head to bed,” she scratched the back of her neck, “I have to work at dawn. Armyah, are you alright escorting him out of the gardens alone?” The magician nodded, standing to bid her friend goodnight. “Thanks, Armyah,” she pulled the dark haired woman into a hug, “or being on his side.” With a final smile, Portia headed back into the cottage. Pepi lifted her head to watch, but settled back down into Julian’s lap. Taking her seat next to the doctor, she looked to him. His smile faded ever so slightly as he leans back on the bench, craning his head up to the stars. Long fingers stroke idly through the cat’s fur and she purrs loudly, nuzzling into his lap. His mouth open and closed several times.

“I, uh...” he finally started, “I had fun today.” Armyah barked a laugh and looked at him oddly.

“You call being almost caught and, possibly, killed fun?” He rolled his eye, but laughed all the same.

“You know, I used to have fun all the time,” he reminisced fondly, “I used to go on all sorts adventures.”

“Oh?” the magician prodded, “what kind?” The lanky man straightened up and turned to her, eye shining like a child in a candy shop.

“Oh, all sorts! Why, do you want to hear some stories?” he flashed that roguish smile she had come to adore, “I warn you, some of them are not for innocent ears.” He dodged the hand that went to cuff him on the ear and laughed. “Before I came to Vesuvia, before the plague, I explored the world,” he sighed, dreamily, “I got into all sorts of trouble. Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time I’ve been threatened with a hanging.”He shifted slightly to angle himself closer to the fortune-teller, careful not to disturb Pepi. “Never got caught, though,” he grinned triumphantly, then winced, “well, except for that time on the pirate ship...” Armyah’s chocolate eyes sparkled with interest.

“You were a pirate?” she shouldn’t be surprised, he had a real flair for the dramatic. Julian coughed awkwardly in to his fist.

“Well, not so much pirate as, er...captive physician,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I, uh...I was onboard a merchant vessel, traveling across the Southern Sea, offering medical care for free passage.” The doctor’s brow pinched together in thought.“It was..a spice ship! That’s right! Imported from Milova,” he snapped his fingers triumphantly, “the journey was supposed to take a month, but a fortnight into the excursion we were attacked!” He delighted in her captivated expression. He wasn’t quite sure if it was genuine or she was just humoring him, but he didn’t care. “Now, this was back before I was as impressive, smooth, and suave as I am now,” a thick brow waggled

“Is that what you call it,” Armyah teased, earning her a laugh from the lanky man.

“And right before the captain took the final blow to lop off my head, I yelled…” Julian threw his hands up in mock surrender and adopted a look of horror. “Wait! I’m a doctor and that foot of yours looks gangrenous!” Laughter like chiming bells took his breath away. Pepi, startled at the exclamation, hops out of his lap and went off to chase fireflies. Once their laughter died, Julian settled back in his seat and heaved a sigh. “So began my stint on a pirate ship,” he recalled, “I learned a lot during those years. Mostly how to talk my way out of sticky situations.” Reaching over to the magician, he absentmindedly twirls a lock of curly, dark hair between his gloved fingers. “I’ve always been trouble, Armyah, I know that,” he didn’t look her in the eye, but he could feel hers on him, “I can feel it more keenly when I’m with you. Seems like it’s all I’ve gotten us into.”

“Trouble can be fun,” she offered, soothingly. His eye snapped up to hers and his hand freezes.

“Not this kind, Not the kind that will get you killed on my account,” he was serious...scarily so.

“I’m not worried,” she was telling the truth, “I’ll watch out for you if you do the same for me.” Leaning forward on her knees, she braces her hands against the gauzy material on his chest. He swallowed thickly, shaking his head.

“I can’t even watch out for myself, Armyah,” he doesn’t pull away from her touch, he doesn’t want to, “you’d be wise to run away while you still can.” She brushes a messy curl from his face and tucks it behind his ear, careful not to disturb the eye patch.

“I guess I’m not very wise then,” thee fortune-teller breathed a laugh, inching her face closer, “because I’m not going anywhere.”

“But what if-” she closes the distance between them and swallows his worries with a kiss, which he returns graciously. The night melted around them. For a brief moment, he wasn’t wanted and she wasn’t missing the majority of her life. They were Julian and Armyah, and nothing else mattered. Once they pulled away, he grinned mischievously. “I think I’m becoming a bad influence on you,” he chuckled as he leaned in once again.

“Absolutely terrible,” she agreed, jokingly, and her lips met his halfway. Shaky hands gripped her shirt and pulled her close. Their lips brush against each other again, and then again. She felt him smile against her mouth just before he pulled away, frowning. He bit his lower lip and looked out into the garden.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” he sighed, “that key I found in my desk...I don’t know what it means or what we’ll find, but...” His cheeks flushed crimson and he looked sidelong toward the magician, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “If you’re with me, I can face it,” he rises to his feet and offers a hand to her, “whatever happens.” Grinning back at him, Armyah takes his hand firmly and leads him through the garden paths to safety. When she looks back at the man she so deeply cares for, she can feel herself grow more confident in her abilities. Like her magic is stronger when she’s near him. Her heart swelled in her chest as he follows her, exhilarated by the cool night air. They were stronger together and, come what may, they won’t face anything alone.

‘Whatever it takes.’

Thanks for reading! Let me know how I’m doing or if you want to be added to the tag list! Tag List: @julians-chest-hair @vundis-scientia

[not-laracroft]

Hopelessly Devoted To You - David Dobrik

Part One. Part Two.

Quickest summary: (Y/N) is so in love with her best friend that she can’t take it anymore and tries to get over him at some random USC party, but sincerely fails.

Warnings: There isn’t much interactions between David and the reader in this one but it does have a lot of the readers thoughts. 

I don't how many times I could possibly smile in his direction without breaking apart into a complete and utter mess. He is my everything. He doesn't know that but it’s true. I know the feeling is definitely not a mutual one, but he brought me clarity. Friends that’s all we’ll ever be and I could care less if he didn’t care for me as more than a friend. His companionship was all that I needed; it was my warmth during the rare, cool breezes of the arid Los Angeles air. I’d die for him and I wouldn't even blink to saying it if asked. 

I know it sounds stupid and cheesy, but I am hopeless, irrevocably devoted to David Julian Dobrik.

He’d always seen me as nothing more than a kid sister and although the thought made me sad it was understandable. He and Liza had been together for two years only up until about a year ago, and I was definitely not trying to shoot my shot. Who was I to tell one of my best friends that I had the hots for them for the past fifteen plus years? I’d seen him grow from Vine and into this huge YouTube personality with over ten million subscribers. The shy little boy who’d come over to play was now a man grown into his own persona and maybe it was the ambition that I had seen early on that drew me in to stay or his toothy grin that made the butterflies in my stomach flip since I was about five. But, I knew where our relationship stood.

I hear someone snapping their fingers to get me out of my lovesick tunnel vision thoughts to be face to face with a handsome guy that was definitely not David. This guy had a certain charm to him the kind that gave of a very ‘bad-boy’ vibe and it intrigued me. His eyes were a sharp contrast from David’s soft chocolate orbs as they were a very true forest green with golden specks in them. His face was also contrasting as David’s sweet round face drastically was compared to this chiseled dimpled Greek god-like being. He looked straight out of a GQ magazine cover with his smoldering features and killer grin, if I was any other girl I would have swooned.

“What’s a beauty like yourself doing out here all alone?” His accented voice even made me think of the slight Slovak twang in David’s as this green-eyed god had a very pronounced hot Aussie accent. Maybe this was fate finally taking my obsession with my best friend away and it kind of hurt, “You mean me?” I questioned obviously knowing he was talking to me as I coyly focused my attention on him, “Of course, darling. The name’s Gregor.” He extended a very, muscular rough hand in my direction and I cautiously placed my clammy hand in his, “(Y/N), uhm, hi, I guess.” I nervously answer with a giggle thrown in. He pulled my hand to his plump lips to place a brief kiss on my knuckles, “Again, what are you doing here alone? If I had a bird like you I’d never let you leave my side.”

God he was charming and something in the pits I’d hidden from all my years of a one-sided romance came to use and that something was courage. Courage to date or be dated. “I don’t know, but I know I’m not alone anymore.” He smiled at me as I answered feeling like I was betraying my very core principals. But, what the hell? It’s not like David would ever feel the same about me. Maybe this was the push I needed to move on. To forget him and simply be a friend, but even then I didn’t want something I’ve built and ingrained into me to die. Plus I’ve only known this guy for literally a short two minute and my mind is immediately jumping at a million miles a millisecond.

We started conversing as the music and the moving of sweaty, inebriated bodies flowed behind us. I’d learned that he was born in Perth and lived there all his life until getting a scholarship to USC, which happened to be where this party was, and I told him about Vernon Hills and my life. I greatly avoided the elephant that seemed to be looming in the back of my head and that I noticed was focused completely on Zane and his usual drunken shenanigans--David. We had decided to move to the backyard to be able to hear the other and he was a decent enough guy, but I was thinking back to my one-sided true love. And, I guess Greg noticed and I generally felt bad.

“So, which one is it?” He suddenly asked with a sullen tone, “Was it the guy drunk off his ass or the guy filming him? Because I’m definitely not trying to compete with your boyfriend or whatever.” He chuckled as I sighed looking at the stars above us and it made me realize that whatever I tried to do wouldn’t make me forget David. I smile as I look into Greg’s beautiful sad eyes, “Have you ever been in love with someone you’ve known your whole life?” He shakes his head with a small smile as if to encourage me to go on, “Well, that’s me and that guy,” I state tirelessly, “the one filming, his name’s David. For as long as I can remember I’ve held the biggest, fiery torch for this dufus. He’s funny and such a big caring baby that has such a big heart, too. I honestly can’t understand how such a person like that even exists it even scares me at times how selfless he is. I hope he never hears this because I’d probably die of embarrassment.” The wind must’ve moved a piece of my hair because I felt his hand putting it behind my ear. He looked so handsome and it hurt that I couldn’t love someone like him, “I know you barely know me and you’re like in love with this guy. It’s also a weird question to ask someone but can I kiss you?” He asks tenderly and sincere melting my heart a tad bit. The first time I got kissed was definitely not my choice it was also the worst experience of my life as David was watching me kiss some slimy preteen in our middle school that slipped my tongue. I nod leaning in and planting my lips onto his and began to tango.

His kiss was rough and a bit sloppy, but generally not that bad. His hand that had moved my hair behind my ear was now entangled in my hair as one of my hands was set placed on his knee while the other held me firmly to the ground and his other hand was pulling me towards him. It was hot. Hotter than even then anything random kiss I’d felt before. He tasted like tobacco and coconuts with a hint of weed lingering in the background with hot breath and gods did he like to be dominant.

As I felt his hand creep slightly into the underneath of the hem of my shirt, we were rudely but thankfully interrupted by the sound of the sliding door of the frat house. “Yo, David come look it’s (Y/N) and some rando getting it, dog.” I hear the sound of Dom’s obnoxious voice scream into the crowd of people in search of said person. Because, I’m a stupid hoe I keep going at it for a hot minute because why not I haven’t been kissed by anyone in a while that’s until I feel a hand pulling me from Greg. It’s David.

[cordoniasmost]

The Best Accident - Ch. 2

Chapter 1

NOTE: This is my first ever fic!  I was terrified to write it but just sat down and let the words flow. This story is in preparation for TRH.  I’m super excited for its release and couldn’t help imagining where it might go.  This is my take on what happens between Maxwell and MC.  Reblog if you like it! :)

NSFW

Summary: We finally learn why Maxwell collects all the peacocks, plus Riley & Maxwell have an important discussion about the future.

Chapter 2 - Peacocks

Maxwell:

Once they had dressed, Maxwell laced his fingers with his wife's and grabbed the picnic basket.  They made their way out of the estate and onto the grounds, taking a sharp left toward what appeared to be a large fenced in fountain.

"Maxwell, is this..." Riley drifted off.

"My peacock enclosure!  I can't wait to show you." He said.

"Oh, my god.  What is it with you and peacocks?" She asked.

"They're so majestic and colorful.  Peacocks are literally the symbol of royalty.  Why wouldn't I surround myself with as many adorable, glorious birds as I possibly could?" He asked her earnestly, bright blue eyes wide.

"Of course.  That's very you and makes all the sense in the world," she answered, an amused twinkle in her eye.

"Do you want to go in and check them out or eat?" Maxwell asked.

"I've worked up quite an appetite," she grinned at him.  "Let's eat."

Maxwell laid out a soft blanket on the thick grass near the peacock enclosure, just under the shade of a beautiful old oak tree.

Riley sat down and gazed at him.  "This is really amazing, Maxwell.  Thank you for planning it for us."

"I want to remind you every day that I appreciate how lucky I am that you chose me to be your partner, and getting to make you smile is the best part of my day.  It's a win-win, really, delicious food with the most beautiful woman in the world in one of my favorite places on Earth.  The only thing better would be if a spontaneous peacock dance party broke out in the middle of lunch," he laughed.

"As unlikely as that might sound, I wouldn't put anything past you at this point," she teased.  She leaned over and placed a quick but heated kiss on his lips.

He returned the kiss, warning her, "If you start that up again, we'll never get a chance to eat and I'm starving."

She laughed.  "I'm starving, too, but I can't seem to quench my thirst for my husband.  Can you blame me?"

"Well, I am extremely sexy.  I guess I can't blame you," Maxwell teased.

He began removing their lunch from the picnic basket.  He poured them each some sparkling water with lime and handed a glass to Riley.

"Mmm, this is so refreshing and perfect."  She sipped her water while waiting for Maxwell to prepare the rest of their food.

Julian had packed them a spread of cured meats and cheeses, crackers, and fresh fruits.

"This is the best lunch I've ever had," Maxwell said, as he hungrily shoved a cracker stacked high with a variety of meats and cheeses into his mouth.

Riley laughed.  "Don't choke, Maxwell.  I'd like to grow old with you and I can't do that if you die choking on cured meat."

As they continued eating in peaceful quiet, it occurred to Maxwell he should probably talk to his wife about some things that had been on his mind lately.

"Riley, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about..." Maxwell began. 

Riley looked up at him attentively, waiting for him to speak.  She reached out and grabbed his hand, encouraging him to talk.

Maxwell took a deep breath.

"Do you remember the lantern festival when we sort of talked about the subject of our future?" he asked.

"Yes, I remember a lot of things about that night," she said as she winked at him suggestively.

"Ha, ha, yeah. Me, too.  But seriously, the conversation about kids?  Now that we're married, have gone on our honeymoon and are starting to figure out what normal life looks like for us, how are you feeling about what I said?" he asked her cautiously, holding his breath as he waited for her to answer.

Riley sat thoughtful for a moment while she considered her next words. 

"Maxwell, you told me that you're not ready to have kids yet, and maybe not ever.  I understand your reasons.  You think you'll mess it up like you think you mess everything up.  I know better.  I know you won't.  You're an amazing uncle to Bartie and the best dog dad ever to Chance.  But, I also won't pressure you into having kids if you're not ready.  And if you're never ready, that's okay, too.  As much as I want to have a house full of love and to see little Maxwell's and Riley's running around and causing the best chaos, I'm also okay with a lifetime of loving you.  I accept you for who you are and love you with my entire being.  That’s enough for me," she finished.

He let out a shaky breath he'd been holding.  Maxwell just wasn't ready to take the leap into fatherhood.  He was afraid she might reject him or give him an ultimatum or cry.  He couldn't take it when she cried.  It killed him.  He was so afraid of having a baby just to mess it up.  Sure, he'd love to see what a mixture of him and Riley would look like, and he also loved being there for all of Bartie's milestones and watching him grow up.  But he knew it would be different if it were his own kid.  He couldn't hand it back to its parents at the end of the day.  He just wasn't ready for that level of responsibility and he didn't know if he ever would be.

She smiled up at him.  "Feel better now that that's off your chest?"

He bent forward and kissed her tenderly.  "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but whatever it is I'm glad I did it.  'I love you' doesn't seem like strong enough words for how you make me feel."

She kissed him again, smiling against his lips.  "I feel the same way about you, Maxwell Beaumont.  You complete me."

He froze, pulling back from the kiss.  "Did... Did you just quote Jerry Maguire to me?"

She threw her head back and laughed heartily.  "I wasn't sure you'd get the reference.  Yep, I did.  But it's true!"

He giggled along with her and they finished their lunch in the comfortable quiet of the Beaumont grounds.

...

Riley:

A few hours later, Riley was back in their room reading a magazine while waiting for Maxwell to finish his second round of meetings with the council that day.  She wanted to do something special for her husband while they were at the Beaumont estate, especially after the lunch he'd so sweetly put together for them earlier that day.

She considered her options, wanting to do something fun and carefree for Maxwell after a long day of meetings.  Riley knew her husband would want to let loose a little after this day.  She smiled to herself as she thought about the statue she had gotten her husband on their wedding day.  "I've got to incorporate that somehow into the evening," she said aloud to herself.

Then inspiration struck.  She smiled again as an idea formed in her mind.    

[tcohs-messenger]

Were You Scared? (Julian X Male!Apprentice)

Stargazing with Julian? Sign me the fuck up~

“Are you ever scared- so far out from the city, from a home?” Laying out under the darkened skies had made him sleepy, not enough to the point where he’d actually fallen asleep. Instead, it just brought more curious questions to mind. “Were you ever scared out in the middle of the ocean?”

Julian smiles, nudging a little closer to the mage he laid next to. The grass was sprinkled in dew, leaving their backs and hair wet and cooling, and they snuggled closer for warmth from the cool night air. “You know- back then I wasn’t...”

At his words, the mage sits up a little, looking down at him curiously. “Back then- what do you mean?”

The doctor shrugs back, nudging up to his elbows and looking back at the mage tenderly. “I didn’t really think too much about the trouble back then. I didn’t consider how easily I could die- be it sickness, murder, or accident- and yet it was so easy for any of those to happen, especially while I was a pirate.” After his monologue, Julian seemed to notice he was rambling, and he shifted under his partner’s eye.

“Do... do you fear it now?” He asks back softly, laying a hand on Julian’s shoulder. 

He immediately nods. “God yes- I fear the idea every day. Of leaving of- abandoning everything again. Never returning, never having a home, everything about it... because...” Julian sighs, extending an arm to pull him close to his chest. “Because I have something that makes me want to stay.”

The mage blinks back, a little shocked by the random confession . “What... what makes you want to stay?”

“A person.” Julian holds him tighter, petting over his shoulder. “Someone who I never want to leave, who I don’t want to risk losing. A person who made me care about myself again, who made me want to try again-- someone very, very special to me...”

Julian glances down at the mage, giving a knowing smile as they both relax into the grass again, holding each other tighter than before. The mage didn’t have to ask, already knowing who this person was, and felt more than content with just slipping deeper into this simple contentment. 

“I’m sure they feel the same way about you too, Julian.”

(Wanna see something else? Shoot me a message~)

[samtrapani]

goodnight, doctor.

The city is alive with the sound of guards knocking on doors, the thunder of hooves against the ground, of the confused babble of the common people swelling into the night air as they’re woken and dragged out of bed, into the light, the crying of children, the distant caw of a raven that he knows is flustered beyond belief-

Julian watches the tableau unfold in the streets below. They are searching for him. The Countess wants his neck in a noose and his body swinging from the breeze like a child’s plaything, but she isn’t going to get it, despite her best intentions to do so. She’s a clever one, that Nadia, sharp as a whip. Being in court has only honed her down to a sharp-edged blade, but he knows where she’ll stumble, where she’ll take a misstep and bring herself back to square one in her search for him.

Down below, they are systematically searching the houses. Door after door opens, light spilling out into the darkened streets. No one comes this far in the city, but all its secrets are being laid bare, apparently starting with one Julian Devorak. 

The murderer, he thinks, almost amused. The mad doctor, the plague doctor, the man who stole the Count’s trust and plucked his still-beating heart from his chest-

The door behind him opens, soft lantern light burning his vision for a moment as he moves away from the window. And then the door clicks shut, and the apprentice leans against it.

“I’m glad you got my message,” the apprentice says, quietly. “They won’t look for you here.”

“And why not?” Julian arches an eyebrow.

“I told them I needed to be somewhere I could see most of the streets. It would help me find you faster.”

“Nadia isn’t going to be pleased that you’ll be unsuccessful in capturing me.”

The apprentice smiles, and Julian’s heart aches. The light touches their features, softening the tiredness that he can see is barely hidden in their eyes. For a moment, neither of them speak. The sounds of the commotion below float up to them through the open window, increasing in volume as more folk are shaken awake, are forced out into the night.

“It’s all a distraction, isn’t it?” he finds himself asking. “Causing a ruckus that might cause me to act, to flee, all while revealing myself to you.”

“It’s terribly complicated.” The apprentice straightens, walks to the window. Their fingers brush Julian’s as they pass, the brief contact itself enough to send a barely contained shiver up his spine. “But we do terribly complicated things for love, don’t we?”

Yes. Yes, we do. 

The apprentice sets the lantern out on the window sill, turns back to him. Their smile is wan as they take his hand in theirs. “I won’t let them get you. I promise.”

“You don’t have to promise me anything.” Leaning in, he gently kisses the apprentice. “Here and now is more than I could’ve dreamed of.”

There’s a pallet in the corner, a nest of old blankets and cloth that he hasn’t previously noticed. He wonders if those belong to the apprentice or simply the previous inhabitants of the building, but he thinks it doesn’t matter, not when the apprentice playfully nudges him down, their hands resting a bit too long on his chest. 

A wicked smile cuts through his face. “This is incredibly romantic, I must say. While half the guards are baying for my blood, you and I are up here, right under their noses.”

The apprentice laughs, a warm sound that reminds him of spring days, happier times. They settle cross-legged beside him, leaning against the wall. Julian shifts, scooting closer until he can lay his head in their lap. Silence falls around them: Not the harsh, cold silence of solitude but rather the silence of love, of knowing that even without words, everything exists in a state of harmony. Their fingers run through Julian’s hair, tenderly, and all he can think of is how ridiculous this whole situation has turned out to be.

“Falling in love with the one destined to hand me over to the Countess wasn’t exactly the future I had in mind,” he says, teasingly, eyes closing, tension he didn’t know he was holding seeping out of his posture. 

“Look who’s talking.” He can hear the laugh at the edge of their voice, ready to spill over, ready to anoint him in its radiance. “At least I bother coming up with elaborate plans of escape instead of hanging around taverns where everyone knows me.”

“Oh, you wound me so.” 

“I do, don’t I?” Their tone shifts, quieter, thoughtful. Julian thinks it’s the mood, the swirling miasma of uncertainty in the city that’s sweeping them up in it. “But it’s all to be safe. It’s all to make sure the Countess doesn’t string you up for all to see.”

The apprentice extracts their hands from Julian’s hair. Their voice is almost a whisper. “I won’t let them see you die.”

Their words chill him. The atmosphere in the room shifts, and Julian starts to get up, only to freeze when cold steel presses against his throat. His eyes snap open, and he stares into the apprentice’s face. Their expression is a war: Regret colliding with sorrow, satisfaction kissed with the bittersweet note of finality.

No. 

He thinks that if the city stills for just the briefest of moments, it’ll hear the monstrous sound of his heart breaking. 

“I won’t let them see you die,” the apprentice repeats. “You don’t deserve that.”

He knows if he struggles, he might be able to overpower them. He knows that he can bring them to their knees, he can take the knife, he can turn the tables-

But he can’t. As much as every nerve in his body is screaming at him to do something, do something, Devorak, do something, he can only look the apprentice and pray this is a cruel joke.

It isn’t. Deep in his bones, he knows it isn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he whispers. “We can run away. The world is so much vaster than you and I believe-”

This time, the laugh seems more like a sob. The apprentice’s grip on the blade does not waver. “I love you, Julian. I love you, but this- You really didn’t think it would end differently, did you?”

Yes, he wants to say. Yes, I did. 

The apprentice’s eyes are glinting in the dark, but he isn’t sure if it’s tears or merely a trick of the light emanating from the lantern. They bend down, kiss his forehead.

“Goodnight, doctor.”

“Don’t-” Julian starts, voice soft, hand reaching for the apprentice’s arm.

No, don’t, we can fix this-

The blade cuts him off, biting into his throat. The first thing he tastes is the blood in his mouth, and the last thing he sees is the apprentice’s face, before the world is slashed to ribbons. 

[ernmark]

@typehere452 requested “Blankets, hot warm non-alcoholic beverages and someone who figured out what happen and wants to help out even if Juno is most likely to refuse all that.” in response to the fic where Juno thinks Peter is dead.

Juno’s world is fuzzy with drink, but he’s still aware that he isn’t alone in his apartment.

“Wow,” says a voice. A familiar voice. “That’s… you said this happens often?” 

“All the time.” This voice is easier to identify. He’d know Rita anywhere. “I mean, it used to happen every once in a while, like on the anniversary of… some days. But it’s been getting real bad lately. I don’t even know what happened.”

What happened is that Nuryeyev’s death has finally hit the mainstream news– along with a video. If there was any doubt in his mind that Peter was dead for real, that video put it to rest. 

It’s the end of a chase scene, Nureyev leaping from rooftop to rooftop while New Kinshasan guards are in hot pursuit, his face alight with the thrill of the chase. And then, mid-stride, he’s struck by a bolt from the sky. He falters. He falls. He hits the ground.

And then they play it again. Because it’s a short clip, not even a minute long, and the talking heads who report the news need longer than that to give it context. So they just repeat the video again and again. Run, falter, fall. Run, falter, fall. 

It’s everywhere. Juno can’t do research on his cases without seeing Nureyev die in the sidebar. He can’t turn on the radio without hearing strangers celebrate his death. He can’t skim tabloids without finding speculation on where he spent the last twenty years. 

It was bad enough when he saw Nureyev die every time he closed his eye. Now it’s happening even when he has it open.

He’s going to lose his mind if this keeps up. So he drinks himself into a stupor, and prays it’ll be over soon. 

“Do you think you can help him?” Rita asks.

He wants to point out that the only help he needs is a refill, but he’s too tongue-tied to say so. Instead he only grunts.

The other woman – now he remembers, it’s Alessandra– sighs. “Well, let’s start with getting him off the floor. Rita, can you get his feet?”

Juno is only vaguely aware of being picked up off the floor and hoisted into his bed. He mumbles protests, but she strokes his hair. 

Alessandra cradles his head in her arm and helps him drink something decidedly non-alcoholic, and he might have spat it out if he wasn’t so thirsty. Her arm is replaced by a pillow, and her warm presence is substituted with a blanket– and then a second blanket, and a third. Alessandra tucks him in snugly and kisses his forehead.

Still, she picks up a blanket and wraps it snugly around him. Then another, and another. How did she find all his blankets? Is it laundry day or something?

“It’s okay, Juno. We’re going to fix this.”

But there is no fixing this. That’s the problem.

He’s barely awake for five minutes before Alessandra is pushing a mug of coffee into his hands. “That’ll help with the hangover.”

“This isn’t my first one,” he rasps. “I can handle it.” 

“I’ll believe that when I see it. Drink up.”

“What’s it to you, anyway?” Juno asks, but he’s already nursing the coffee. He’s not about to admit that it really does help a little. He’s got his pride. 

“I’ve got a case. And I could use your help with it.” 

“I think you’re going to be disappointed.” He sighs. But if it’ll get him out of his apartment and give him something else to think about for a few minutes… “Fine. What do you need?” 

“I need to know why Arch Chancellor Rossignol wants you dead.” 

And suddenly being blackout drunk starts to look appealing again. That’s a name he never wanted to hear again.

“I don’t know. I’ve never met her.” 

“But you know who she is,” Alessandra points out. “And that she identifies as a woman. That’s more than most people on Mars.”

Of course he does, but only because he’s seen her through Nureyev’s eyes. That was decades ago, in New Kinshasa. Another place he doesn’t want to think about right now. Because if he starts thinking about it, he starts toying with little ‘what if’s, and from there it’s just a few steps to asking himself if murdering a city full of people might have been worth saving one man. 

And it’s not. It’s not, and he knows it, and that makes him hate himself for halfway wishing it had happened. 

“What can I say?” he says, trying to steer himself away from the black hole in his chest. “I like my trivia shows.”

“Well, she’s heard of you,” Alessandra says. “And it looks like you made an impression. While you’ve been hitting the bottle, she’s sent a few dozen assassin drones after you. I’ve been able to take them down before they cause much trouble, but I want to know why. I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation.” 

Juno respects Alessandra. She seems to like him, despite her better judgement, and he doesn’t want to screw that up. So he tactfully doesn’t say the first few things that cross his mind, and diverts the conversation entirely: “What does that have to do with your case?” 

“You are my case, Juno. I got offered a lot of money to keep you safe.” 

Wait. Say that again? “From who?” 

“Rossignol, obviously, but the Triad and the Kanagawas have both put out new hits on you, too.” She casts a sidelong glance at Rita, who’s been spending most of this conversation carrying crates of empty bottles out the door to be recycled. “And maybe from yourself, while we’re at it. It was a pretty open-ended assignment.” 

"I mean your client,” Juno says. “Who was your client?" 

“I don’t know. They’ve been doing a lot to stay anonymous. I’ve tried running some decryption software on their messages, but so far I’ve got nothing. That’s why I started talking to Rita in the first place. I figured if anyone could break through all of this, it would be her.” 

“They didn’t even tell you their name, and you took the case anyway?” Juno asks, but time feels distorted. It’s like he’s falling into a gravity well, the entire galaxy shifted and stretched in unnatural ways. 

“If it was for anyone else, I wouldn’t,” Alessandra says. “But for you, I made an exception.”

And she’s not the only one who made an exception for him–

But that can’t be right. It can’t be real. And he can’t let himself start thinking that way, even for a second. Because if he entertains that kind of hope, the despair that follows it is going to kill him.

It’s got to be somebody else. Sasha– but why would she bother with secrecy?– or Mick – where the hell would he get that kind of money? – or Vicky – sure, she likes him, but not enough to do something like this – or Julian – okay, so he might actually pull off something this elaborate to be dramatic, but you’d think he’d get bored by now. 

Maybe one of his enemies is trying to toy with him?

Alessandra is smiling grimly. “It’s good to see your mind working again, Juno. That stupor of yours was hard to watch.” 

“Nobody said you had to watch,” Juno says, but moves on. “Did this mystery client tell you why they wanted you looking out for me?”

“They seemed to know that you and I had history,” she said. “In fact, they seemed to be counting on it. So they had to have known about the DiMaggio case. And they have to have some kind of attachment to you. The Triad and the Kanagawas, too– the hits they put on you aren’t the kind they give out as favors to other factions. They’re personal. From what I can tell, you’ve done something to disrespect them, and they want revenge.”

“I’ve done plenty of that,” Juno says. And he tries not to think it, tries to steer away from the void.

“But you didn’t always do it alone, did you?”

She pulls out her phone and offers it to him. He doesn’t want to look. He doesn’t want to look.

“Recognize this man?” 

It’s an ID photo of Peter Nureyev, smiling and charismatic in a Dark Matters uniform. She gestures over the screen, and the image changes. This one is crisp and clear and stamped with the official Kanagawa channel watermark: Nureyev, barely an inch away from a flustered-looking Juno, a gore-covered mask in his gloved hands. Another shot, pixellated, clearly cropped from a larger wide-angle camera. Nureyev again, leaning suggestively over a dinner table in an old-fashioned Triad restaurant. Another one of them leaving that restaurant, bloody and bruised, Nureyev gazing tenderly at Juno as he helps him walk on a mangled leg.

No wonder people get so violent when he investigates them– this is awful. He feels violated, his innermost secrets scrubbed raw and laid out in front of two of the people he actually still cares about. Of all the pictures Alessandra had to have dug through, she picked those. The ones that leave no room to deny exactly how Peter and Juno felt about each other. Between the time stamps on the pictures and the look that must be on Juno’s face right now, there can’t be much left to the imagination: this is the man he rejected Alessandra for.

She has no right to know, but it’s her job, and she’s damn good at it. 

He swallows. “Agent Rex Glass. We worked a case together.”

“That might be what he told you,” Alessandra says quietly. “But that’s not who he really is.” She gestures, and the picture changes again. This time he’s eighteen years old and unsmiling as he poses for his annual government-mandated mug shot. The last one he took before he killed his father and fled Brahma. “Peter Nureyev, an infamous terrorist and resistance icon on Brahma. Twenty years ago he took an entire city hostage, and he’s been threatening to drop it out of the sky ever since.”

The next picture is a piece of graffiti, stenciled with spray paint: a vengeful seraph is swinging a sword at a planet. In its way is a shield, held by a stylized, almost cartoonish young Peter Nureyev. Bold lettering captions the image: “OUR REAL GUARDIAN ANGEL”. 

“In fact, Arch Chancellor Rossignol reached the position she has on the promise that she’d be the one to bring him down. And two weeks ago, that’s exactly what she did.”

She gestures again, and Juno knows exactly what video will be playing when he looks down. He can’t look. He just can’t.

“And less than four hours later, the first assassin drone came looking for you at your apartment.” 

“Why?” His voice is almost inaudible.

“Maybe someone on her staff was a fan of the Kanagawa feeds and recognized Nureyev from the propaganda posters. Maybe someone from the local gangs wanted to get cozy with the ruling class on Brahma. But somewhere along the line, Rossignol must have figured out that the best way to get to Nureyev is through you.” 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Juno says. Or it does, but he can’t acknowledge it even when it’s staring him in the face. “Why bother getting to him when he’s already dead?” 

“Because I don’t think he is,” Alessandra says. “Look at that footage. There are cameras all over Brahma, but they only ever showed one video. No other pictures. No other angles. Nothing before, no body afterward. Not even a report of how they found him or what he was doing at the time.” 

Juno lets himself fall out of orbit and into that black hole. Time and light and space stop making sense. “You think the video was staged.” 

“I think it wouldn’t be the first time somebody got replaced by a mechanical puppet.” 

“To make good on her promise,” Juno says, and his voice is cold as the void.

“But the fake wouldn’t have mattered for anything if Nureyev popped up again afterward. So she’s been attacking you here, probably hoping he’d try to contact you, to warn you or tell you he’s still alive.”

“And meanwhile they’d be watching to see where that communication came from, and they’d track it back to him,” Juno concludes. But he’s reached the singularity, and at the other end of it is a blinding, beautiful light. “But they wouldn’t think to look at you.” 

“Not at first, anyway,” she says. “But by the time they realized I was protecting you, I suspect my client was already long gone.” 

Her client, who knew about the case Juno and Alessandra worked together, because he was there. Who knew they had a connection, respect– hell, he probably even knew about their make out during the stakeout. And that was a connection nobody else would make. 

And suddenly he wants to throw off these blankets and take a shower and get out there and beat some goddamn heads in, because he’s thrumming with energy along an entire spectrum of wavelengths– anxious and exhilarated and furious and defiant, all of them at once and more.

Because Peter goddamn Nureyev is alive.