#julian devorak fanfiction

[lunastarhawk]

When the Stars Align

Tides of Memories part 27

I had a lot of fun with this part, I feel like I reconnected with Julian and Altheia again, and moved the story on to a good place. It's the first of three climaxes to the past two years of work, with shenanigans and smut along the way. I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out :)

Summary

After an early birthday party in the newly-renovated rooftop garden, Julian and Altheia set sail for Nevivon aboard their new ship. But before the end of their voyage, the stars align, and Julian is able to put everything he has learnt about the sea, the stars, magic and himself, towards a spell that could change their lives forever.

This is effectively a loooonnnggg rewrite of the 'one month later' scene in Julian's route's epilogue, if you squint.

Excerpt

“I should be wearing something more… wizard-y,” he said as he worked.  “Don’t you think?” Altheia raised an amused eyebrow.  “‘Wizard-y’?” “Yes!  Like a robe.  Bright and gaudy colours.  Maybe a hat.” He smiled as he heard Altheia’s laugh.  “Brightly coloured robes and hats aren’t a requirement for magic use, my love.” “All the fortune tellers and magicians doing tricks in Goldgrave seem to think they are.” As Julian talked, he crossed the deck back to the desk and took the bottles of ink and four clean quills from the drawer. “That’s just for show,” Altheia said, humouring him.  “They’re just trying to attract customers, make a show of it.” “I suppose I don’t need to make a show when it’s just you and I, hmm?” “And I!” That voice, lilting and velvety, startled Julian so hard he nearly dropped the ink bottles.  He hurried back to where he’d laid out the papers, set the bottles down, and then leaned forward onto the stern rail.  There, narrow head raised a little out of the water, was the serpentine form of the Knight of Cups.  

“Oh!”  Julian exclaimed.  “It’s you!” “It is!” Something like a grin pulled the Knight’s lipless, jade-green mouth.  “I couldn’t keep my curiosity at bay, I’m afraid.” Julian suspected that wasn’t really the reason for the minor Arcana’s appearance.  “How are you here?  Shouldn’t you be in the Cups realm?  I thought the Arcana couldn’t travel between realms?” “Questions, questions!”  The Knight twirled in a circle as he chuckled.  “Did you forget?  Only the Major Arcana are so restricted.  The rest of us can travel as we please.  My realm is wherever there is water.  That’s why you’re here!  In the sea!  Well… not in the sea.  Floating on it.  But close enough.” Beside the Knight, two purple-blue betta fish the size of Julian’s torso suddenly jumped out of the water in an arc; Julian recognised them. “The Two of Cups, is it?” “Yes!  They’re here, too.” Julian thought back to a few weeks ago, when he’d pulled the Two of Cups from Asra’s tarot deck while travelling in a carriage with him.  Asra told him it represented the bond between Julian and Altheia, and realised that the strength of the bond was, in effect, the result of what had amounted to a deal between each other when they’d confessed their love for each other while chained by the Devil.  He realised then that neither the Knight nor the Two were there out of simple curiosity.   “The magic you seek relies on emotion,” the Knight said breezily.  “Yours and Altheia’s.  That’s why you’re here, on a ship, close to the realm of Cups, the realm of emotion.  Do you see?” Julian stared for a moment into the golden eyes of the Arcana.  “I… do.  I think.” The eel-like form of the Knight rose up out of the water, enough to be almost at eye level with Julian.  His gaze flicked down Julian’s body from head to foot and back again, and in an almost melancholic tone he said, “A shirt and trousers?  I would have gone for something with a little more… panache.” “Something wizard-y?  Brightly coloured robes?” “Yes!  And maybe a hat.” Julian turned and looked back at Altheia with a ‘told you so’ grin. 

The rest is on AO3 :)

[iridescent-solstice]

I might not know much about Julian but ngl he seems like the person who’s so used to treating others that his heart would burst from happiness if his partner ever had to tend to his wounds. Wdym you want to take care of him?!? Someone like him doesn’t deserve your touch . . . You’d have to coax him into it and when that doesn’t work, scolding sure will! It could be something as small as a paper cut, but just seeing you narrow your eyes in concentration as you apply the disinfectant would make him speechless with heart in his eyes. He is such a soft boy 😭

[macabremayhem]

"– People are obsessed with love, looking for it and not getting what they really need. Fragile, stupid creatures. You consider love as a magical tool that can change the world and then you go around in circles. But your eyes are clouded with illusions. You think: if this love didn’t give me what I need, it is not "real". You are fascinated by the myth of true love. You think it would last for the rest of your life, understanding and healing everything. But love is just a myth.

Ilya looked up, his lips trembling.

– What am I looking for? I don’t really know, Quaestor Valdemar. But I know that you are... incapable of love. I know this and I have come to you willingly.

Quaestor is answered:

– You came to the sacrificial fire. Frankly, I’m impressed by your deep, desperate masochism. It’s attractive – how can predator be attracted to the easy prey. You came to me because you can no longer look for something in people – something they want too and can’t give you. A kind of the truth. However, perhaps you intuitively tried to give it to them.

You understand what I am. You’re not making any illusions about my personality. You’ve seen what I can do. Others have deceived you. But you still hope. Dum spiro, spero is your unfailing credo.

Valdemar went quiet for a while and then added, looking into Julian’s eyes:

– And like all men, you still worship love as a god. Funny. But… Nec deus intersit."

Text: Lunatic Sun

Art:

Sketch: chilledoutbeast

Colouring: wasteofplace

previous fragment:

[leighsartworks216]

Death Bed

Julian Devorak x gn!Reader/Apprentice

I transcribed almost an entire chapter of Julain's route just for this 💀 I want the Apprentice to react more when they find out they died. Like, THEY DIED let them cry about it

Title from "death bed (ft. beabadoobee)" by Powfu

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, crying, mental breakdown, coming to terms with dying, death, spoilers for Julian's route

Word Count: 1,395

Masterlist

AO3

“So… um, so.” Julian shifts a book in line with the rest, fiddles with the fraying edge of the spine, and slides it back out to shift the order around some more. “Well, it worked. I met the Hanged Man, got the rest of my memories back, got my cure, and…” 

He scratches mindlessly at the pressed together pages, brow furrowing. It’s like he wants to look over, but knows doing so would make what he wants to say even harder.

“Listen, uh, just stay calm and listen to me, okay? I found out that… that…”

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again, before he bites his lip.

You take in a quiet breath. “That you knew me… and I died?”

His head whips up in a flash. Wide eyes stare at you. “Wh… How did…? I was psyching myself up to tell you that and you already knew?”

You could almost laugh at his shock. At the look on his face.

But a waver at the back of your throat prevented anything as joyful as that from forming. You swallowed before saying, “I didn’t know. Not until today.”

He blinks cluelessly at you.

“I saw you, in the Hanged Man’s realm. I couldn’t call out to you, I couldn’t reach you, but… I heard everything.”

You can see the realization dawn on his face, in the way his eyes widen and soften with sympathy. “Are you… are you okay?”

Your mind spins.

Are you okay?

This morning, maybe you could say you were. Even as Julian was being carted away to be hanged, as his eyes gaze across the crowd and locked onto you. As his body fell out from under him. You could have bit your cheek, sucked it up for a moment more, clinging to the hope his plan would work.

You could watch him die, and still hold on just enough to reassure Portia that he would be okay.

But this?

Every time the thought reaches the forefront of your mind, your head spins. A headache presses at your temples, your stomach churns, your heart feels off-beat. How… How can you be okay?

You shake your head weakly, eyes falling from his face, vision unfocused as hot tears begin pooling too quickly to try stopping them. “No. I… no, I’m not.”

His words sound distant. All you’re aware of is his cool hand touching your shoulder, guiding you down to the ratty old cot taking up space in the small cell. The way his hands glide around you, pulling you into his chest.

And all at once, you finally break.

Harsh sobs shake you to your core as you hug him back. The fabric of his shirt becomes a prisoner in your tight grip, tugging desperately to pull him closer and closer.

His hand cups the back of your head, guiding your face to his neck. He whispers reassurances - mindless platitudes to try distracting your mind from the terrible truth to your missing memories. Kisses planted sweetly at your temple and hairline.

“Who-” You have to gasp for air. Your lungs burn with the next sob, especially as you try to stifle it down against his skin. “Who was I?”

He stiffens under you, and squeezes you tighter in his hold.

That person you used to be… You’d never know them. When at one time, all you knew was yourself, suddenly that rug has been ripped out from under you. Is who you are now- are you even you? Would your past self have become this? Were you them anymore? Did you share anything with them anymore?

And all those memories. All those days, all that time spent living just… gone. Did you used to think of your parents on holidays? Were you even close enough to them to think of them? Were they even alive? You know your shop belonged to your aunt, but you don’t even remember her anymore.

How many childhood memories bathed in golden nostalgia are lost now? How many friends did you used to have, now faded into obscurity?

God, friends. You tried so hard to be kind to all of the vendors at the market, but they all stared at you so warily. No matter what you tried, they were always on edge, always whispering behind your back. Even the baker had his moments of unease toward the beginning of your newest memories. Asra was the only friend you had. For so long. Who else had come before him?

And Julian! You’d known him! Worked as his apprentice! Were you friends then? Did you drink Salty Bitters at the Rowdy Raven together back then? Did you share secrets late in the night? Did you welcome him at work with a cup of coffee? Or did you drift through life back then, too? Keeping a practical distance between you both, staying professional, never anything deeper than that.

You press your face further into his shoulder. You can’t imagine it. You can’t imagine not being as close to Julian as you are now. All the adventures and laughter and love…

But you wish you could remember it. Just for a moment.

Julian brushes your hair back, humming a song out of tune by your ear. You wonder how long he’s been humming for, you didn’t even notice when it began. You focus on the melody, however butchered it may be from years of singing shanties with pirates. If you listen carefully, imagining what it should sound like, you think it may be a lullaby.

The more you listen, the more aware of your body you become. Your skin is warm where he rubs up and down your back. His other hand is gloveless, though you don’t know when he removed it. It tangles softly in your hair, scratching gently at your scalp, sending tingles that mix with your trembling body to form goosebumps along your arms.

His chest rumbles as he hums. You’re pressed close enough to feel it vibrate through you, too. When the song pauses and he inhales, you feel it, too. You can hear it by your ear, the sharp intake of breath.

You remember the sight of him dangling by the neck. You couldn’t tear your eyes away when they waited for him to die.

But he’s not dead now.

You bring a hand around to rest on his chest. He pauses briefly, head shifting as he tries to see what you’re doing, but he doesn’t completely stop. His skin isn’t cold as death, it’s just cool. Underneath, you can feel the powerful beating of his heart. Its steady rhythm is persistent.

Your tears slow, until the leftover drops stick to your eyelashes. Your body stops shaking with the force of your despair. His hand slows to a stop on your back, melody petering off to welcome the silence of the dungeon once more. He kisses your temple.

“Are you alright?” he whispers hesitantly.

Are you?

You take a deep breath. The lingering smell of coffee and the sea greets you.

You nod slightly. Your voice is crackly and raspy as you speak, fragile. “I think so.”

He lets you pull away when you’re ready. You can’t stand the thought of leaving too wide of a gap, though. So your hand remains on his chest, over his heart. There’s a kind understanding in his eye as he covers it with his own.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you back then,” he apologizes. “You needed me and I wasn’t there. I failed you.”

You shake your head, cutting him off. “You’re here for me now.” You muster up a weak smile. “That’s what matters.”

His shoulders sag a little with relief. He lets go of your hand to cup your cheek, wiping away the drying tears with his thumb, before drawing you forward and kissing your forehead once more. It’s easy to close your eyes and sink into the affection. Knowing how close you have both been to dying for good, it feels precious. It is precious.

But it’s all too soon when he pulls away, brows taught with seriousness. Too many questions are left unanswered. Too many things hinge on Lucio not coming back. For as much as you want nothing more than to linger in stolen moments forever, it will have to wait.

You won’t let this plague come back.

You can’t.

[bunnyluvx]

the hanged man.

featuring: julian devorak x gn!reader. (w/ asra!)

summary: the morning after the dock talk.

warnings: death mention. nothing else.

a/n: HELLO SWEETIES!! i present thee with my first fanfiction!! all of my other content has been hcs/imagines up until this point and i am very excited about it! i did not expect for my first fanfic on here to be angst but i got so giddy about this idea that i couldn't wait. i am about to finish nadia's route and omg i am so nervous???? literally one more book, then i find out which ending i got. i REALLY want her reversed ending but will not be completely displeased if i get her upright ending. we shall see within the next couple of days. thank you to the ppl who gave constructive criticism to help me better this fanfic!! proofread. now enjoy your angst >:3

date started: 10:24PM, july 4th, 2024. date finished: 9:30PM, july 8th, 2024.

divider credit: @thecutestgrotto

wc: 1.9k

Sun pours in through the window beside your bed. It tickles your skin, urging you to wake from your slumber. The light tries to pull the covers off of you as the day calls your name, but you do not answer. You lay curled up on your side, blankets huddled around you in a cocoon. You don't carry the usual motivation that you have to get up and get things done, not today. All you want to do is hide in the blankets away from the world and stay there forever. So many emotions that are far too heavy for you to carry weigh on your shoulders, and if sleeping forever was an option, you would have dozed back off by now. But the sun is persistent in its mission at waking you, so your eyes begrudgingly peel open.

Your sight is welcomed by the same view that you have been greeted with every morning for the past three years. You lay still for a moment to take everything in. So much has happened ever since the countess asked that you take on the task of finding Count Lucio's killer, Doctor Julian Devorak. The first time that you met him, he had broken into your shop, and you found him again at the Rowdy Raven. Somehow, you managed to run into him again after a few weeks, one thing led to another, and you had fallen in love with the very man that you had sworn to catch for hanging. This romance did not last you very long, for last night, he left you. He told you that he was a disaster waiting to happen, that he didn't want to hurt you. He was so convinced that if you chose him, you would have chosen a horrible fate, and he couldn't let you do that to yourself. He walked you home, and while having dinner with Asra after speaking about your day, you broke. You had spent most of that night in tears with them at your side the entire time, holding you and rubbing your back to comfort you.

You turn around to see Asra exactly where he was when you had fallen asleep; At your side, on their back with their arm extended out to you incase you wanted to curl up against them. He had warned you about Julian, and his words echo in the back of your head. "The only thing he loves more than drama is his own suffering. And he's determined to chase both." You reflect on the way that he spoke of himself when he was fighting with himself about leaving you, and you find it so hard to believe that Julian is anything like how he sees himself. With the little time that you had spent together, you can see Julian's big heart, one that is kind and adventurous and full of love for the people around him. Despite everything that happened in his past, whatever it was, you can't see him as anything more than someone you want to love.

Enough is enough. You cannot lay here and sulk all day, even though that's all you really want to do. Slowly, you manage to sit up from bed, careful with your movements so that you don't wake Asra. You decide to go downstairs to make some tea for yourself, since it always makes you feel better. You trudge to the shop below, still groggy from slumber, and grab the teapot before waking the salamander and politely asking to light a fire for you. The fire flares up, and you make your favorite brew.

After you make your tea, you delicately take the mug into your hands and blow on it before having a sip. A content sigh escapes your lips as your eyes close, savoring the taste on your tongue. You take another slow sip before your eyes open, looking around the shop that you have learned like the back of your hand. You figure that you'll probably need to open up today, which you don't think will be too much of a problem. Standing around won't do you much good, you think, so you decide to stand outside for some fresh air. You make your way to the door and open it, one foot is about to step out of the door when you stop upon seeing something just under your foot. You move it back into the shop, then lean over and see..a letter? Your name is written on the front in handwriting that you have seen in the palace's library, and you know exactly who it's from.

You scoop the letter up from the floor before dashing inside, slamming the door behind you before rushing to the front counter. Anxiety swirls around within your stomach hotly, and your hands slightly tremble as you rip open the letter. You free the paper from its prison and unfold it, then begin to read.

My Dear,

I knew that I wouldn't be able to stay away from you. At the time that I am writing this letter, it has only been a couple of hours since I dropped you back off at the shop. The moment that I walked away, all I wanted to do was come running back to you. My heart was screaming at me to turn around, to ask you to come with me, wherever that meant for us to have gone. I guess that just proves how selfish I am, or maybe just how alluring you are. In the end, the decision that I made was for the better of both of us. We could never be together, no matter how badly we want differently.

Believe me when I say that I did not want this to end the way it has. I have never wanted to cause you harm or heartache. If I could, I would spend the rest of my life taking your pain away. But I have only one purpose in this life, and that is to hurt. I am destined to bring misery to everyone in my life, and to live alone. Choosing a future with me would mean to choose a future full of disappointments, and I do not want to disappoint you anymore. I do not want to disappoint anyone anymore. So I will not burden you with my presence. You will be able to go on with your life, chasing a future that will not wind up with you getting hurt. You are the last person that I want to drag into my mess, so I have to let you go.

Though our time together was short, I enjoyed it all. Every moment with you made me feel more alive than I have ever felt before. It is not often that I find someone who is willing to get into some mischief with me, so finding you and sharing the experiences that we had together is something that I am very grateful for. I am grateful that you allowed me to be in your company for as long as you did, and I am grateful for the kindness and care that you showed me. You have such a gentle, beautiful soul, and everyone who has ever crossed paths with you are the luckiest people on planet to have been able to experience your presence.

I could go on about how lovely you are. You have so much love to give, and you are caring. You had the capacity to care for me, and for that, I am grateful. One day, I can only hope that you will understand that leaving you was for your benefit. I do not want to bring you the suffering that I have brought so many others, so I will spare you of myself. I am struggling to believe that this decision is the right one, honestly. All I can think about is running back to your shop and breaking in again to tell you how sorry I am, and to beg for your forgiveness. That's something that we are going to have to find out together, I guess.

Forever Yours,

Dr. Julian Devorak

You don't know how long tears have been falling down your face. Your chest feels tight, like it's about to burst, and you can't breathe. A hand hovers over your mouth as you stare in horror at the paper in your hand. Too many emotions crash into you all at once for you to even begin processing the words in front of you. You couldn't believe that this is how it's ending between you and Julian. You know that part of why he feels this way about himself is because he has no memory of the night that he allegedly murdered Count Lucio. However, there is also the opposite end of that spectrum; He doesn't remember. There could be a chance that he didn't actually kill the count, and if that's the case, then you need to figure out what actually happened that night. Your blood runs overwhelmingly hot inside you as you ruminate on Julian's irresolution. You feel like you shouldn't even be this upset about someone that you didn't even have a solid relationship with, but you can't ignore the agonizing stabbing feeling in your heart. He could be innocent, but he is more willing to live his life wallowing in his own guilt than to live knowing that the baggage that he is carrying is unneeded.

You are unable to control your body any longer as you collapse to your knees, your loud sobbing betraying the anger that you stirred inside you just moments ago. A brief feeling of regret is drawn from you for even thinking of being angry, leaving as soon as it comes to be replaced with desolation. Grief for what could have been, for what you so desperately wanted this to be, overwhelms you. Shrieks from your voice scream into the empty shop as you hold the letter to your chest with both arms, your torso leaning forward in a fetal position on the floor.

Footsteps scatter down the stairs, and familiar eyes lay upon you. Your cries have awakened Asra, and they are at your side within seconds. His hands are on your shoulders and he sits on the floor with his feet under his butt, his knees propping him up. They watch worriedly as you heave and wail, only when you sit up do they see the letter in your hand. He doesn't say anything, for he knows exactly what has happened. Their eyes darken before they return their focus to you, you are far more important right now. You cry out to whatever spirit will listen, and collapse into Asra's arms. A strong embrace comes around you, only protecting you so much from the hurt of your heart.

You cannot understand what is going inside of Julian's head for the life of you. You do not understand why he feels such a strong need to push you away when all you want is to love him. He has admitted to wanting the same thing, so you feel so confused as to why he just won't let you. You find it difficult to believe that he truly hates himself so much, that he despises the very person that you see so much good in. The fact that he hates someone who took on a curse in which he takes on other's wounds because of his own guilt baffles you. A future without Julian is not a future that you want, but it is what he believes that he deserves. He believes that he deserves to walk the world alone for the rest of his life, and despite the fate that he has condemned himself to, something muffledly admits to you that it is not what he is bound to live.

@BUNNYLUVX ,, all rights reserved. do not copy/plagiarize any of my works or submit it into ai.

[garf-lover96]

Vesuvia Weekly; Baby Fever (Rowan and Julian)

so, excluding my one single moment of weakness, they would definitely remain childless since Rowan doesn't find the idea of having a full human child of his own all that appealing. so i kind of worked around it?? there's less than 1k words here and a little bonus!

———

"Rowan, dear, do you recall if we have any apples at home? We could make that pie together-" Julian moves his hand to place it on his partner's shoulder and stumbles when his palm doesn't meet anything solid.

Has Rowan just wandered off somewhere? Or was it Julian that accidentally left him behind? He stops in the middle of the street as his grey eye darts around, scanning the marketplace for any sign of the tattletale braid. Rowan really couldn't have gone that far. He probably just zoned out by a stall with some trinkets...

After taking just a few steps back the way he came from, he notices the magician hunched over something very small in a narrow alley. At the sound of steps, Rowan gets to his feet and turns around to face Julian. He's seemingly cradling something in his vest.

"There you are! You know, I was worried you've abandoned me..." Julian exclaims with a cheeky grin and his eyes fall on the small thing being cradled by Rowan. Oh, wow, it looks bald...

"What in the world... You have an infant in your hands-" Julian starts with a mortified expression—the implications of an infant being left alone in an alley obviously being disturbing—only to get cut off by Rowan's instant cackle.

"Don't worry, it's a cat!", he reassures with some tears of laughter lingering in his eyes, "Well, still a kitten, really. She waddled right up to me a moment ago." he gets the kitty out of his vest to present her to Julian. She mews happily, seeming in good health and well fed, despite her present alley situation. Julian relaxes visibly, exhaling softly.

"As for her baldness or why was she in an alley..." Rowan shrugs a little, not knowing how to continue.

"...I can't say I've ever seen a bald cat in Vesuvia, particularly. It's kind of a rare breed..." he brings his hand up to stroke his chin in confused contemplation.

"That's why you assumed she was an infant..." Rowan snorts softly.

"It's not like a bald cat is that much more likely to find in an alley! I've only ever seen a handful of them, even with all of my travelling experience."

"Do you think someone abandoned her?"

"I doubt someone would want to abandon a beauty like her. Look at all those wrinkles! She kind of does look like an infant." Julian reaches a gloved finger out to the kitty and she catches it immediately, which makes both men widen their eyes in a moment of pure adoration for the little creature. Now Rowan isn't so sure if he'll be able to let her go so easily if the time comes.

"That said, I think you would look radiant with an actual infant in your arms." Julian looks up at Rowan with a teasing smirk.

"Well, the concept of caring for something so tiny, raising it, watching it grow..." Rowan trails off and his face scrunches up in a small smile as he keeps looking down at the kitten.

"Ah, then again, if nobody comes looking for her, we could just adopt this little baldie...", Julian says, but then quickly dismisses the thought "But to my knowledge, her breed is quite expensive. There's no way someone would just leave her like that. I'll bet she just wandered off from her owner and they're looking for her right now."

As if on command, two figures come rushing through the marketplace, asking every person in their way about something and gesticulating wildly a kitten-sized shape with their hands. Noticing them, Julian takes Rowan's hand and pulls him out of the alley, the kitty still happily cradled on his forearm. The moment he locks eyes with the pair, they come running up with looks of extreme relief on their faces.

"You found our little troublemaker! Damn it, she's been like this ever since she first opened her eyes, that one.", the shorter figure remarks while the taller one fetches a coin pouch from their coat and practically shoves it into Julian's face, "You have to accept our thanks, we don't know what would we do if she got lost for good!"

Rowan and Julian look at each other, wanting to check if they're on the same page. The kitten is already squirming her way out of Rowan's grasp to get to the pair so there isn't any doubt about them telling the truth. But should they take the gold...?

"Ehhh, it's fine, really... She was a treat to babysit anyway, even if for just a short while..." Rowan plucks the coin pouch from Julian's hands and gives it back along with the squirming kitten, with a slightly somber expression on his face.

"But we very much would like to know the story behind this! What's a kitten of this... Bald sort doing in a place like this?" Julian asks with a smile, obviously already making small talk.

"Ha, we rescued her mother from a poacher! Though, we had no idea what we were truly signing up for. We assumed she was just fat..."

As Julian chats with the pair cheerfully, Rowan just listens with an intrigued smile, gazing at the little kitty longingly from time to time. The conversation continues until Julian manages to remember that they still have shopping to do. They all say goodbye to each other and the owners of the kitten walk off back the way they came from.

"Damn it, we didn't even ask for any of their names..." Rowan mumbles sadly and leans against Julian with a huff.

"And so the cat is gone... Now who's going to be the pregnant one, you or me?" Julian nudges his partner with a snort.

"Gah, you just ruined it for me..." he smacks him back with a flustered smile.

and the bald kitty herself. in italian

[silkmoon777]

Dove | Simon "Ghost" Riley

A/N: Hello lovely people, I have a backlog of short stories written for things like Avatar: The Way of Water, MWII, Stranger Things, The Arcana, Outer Banks, and many more that I have never posted and keep to myself. I'm talking hundreds of pages worth of fluff, angst and eventual smut - you've got to get through some plot first, though. HOWEVER, if anyone likes my writing and wants to task me with stuff to write, like straight smut, I'm all ears. Anyway, if anyone is interested in reading stuff I could potentially post, here is a snippet for a little Call of Duty fic.

Synopsis: You're to play the materialistic wife of a rich, well-connected husband during an undercover mission. You're to-be husband is a temporary recruit of the 141, who is to supervise your every move. While getting ready, you have a surprising interaction with your Lieutenant, Ghost, who you swear has made it his mission to treat you like a stranger day after day. Until now.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Contains: pretty much nothing of importance, just Ghost being as unreadable as ever, causing reader to have their mind blown by the smallest of crumbs

• • • • •

I look in the mirror at the woman who is supposed to be Lyanna Winstead. She’s the partner of Dario Winstead, son of a wealthy businessman. Everything about Lyanna is a carbon copy of myself. Her smile, her hair, her figure, her voice. Only, she presents herself in a way I haven’t in a long time.

Gone is the tactical gear and camouflage colours. Instead, she wears the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. The outline of the dress is simple yet captivating to suits the old Hollywood theme. Silver cascades down her body, creating the illusion of a mercury waterfall. The sweetheart neckline and thin straps compliment her full breasts and soft arms. Adorning the bodice are glistening silver designs that remind me of old, swirling boarders on French mirrors. The designs fall away, melting into plain silver threads that fall to the floor and pool at her feet. The dress hugs her body like a second skin, only melting away at her knees. The silhouette fit her hourglass figure well.

The silver jewellery she wears is modest so as not to take away from the dress’s magnificence. On her neck is a dainty Vivienne Westwood necklace, the inner planet of the pendant a pearl. Matching dangling earrings hang from her lower lobe piercing. The rest of her ear piercings are small diamond studs and silver hoops. One wrist displays a thin diamond tennis bracelet and a Van Cleef one with emerald clovers. On the other is the only ode to myself: the evil eye bracelet I never take off. The thin silver chain and bejewelled eye thankfully blend into the rest of the accessories. Small rings cover her fingers, few in number and easily ignorable. The bands are thin and any jewels are small and clear. However, one stands out; a breathtaking sight on her left index finger.

Glittery diamonds cover the band, giving way to a large, circular moonstone. Rainbow shimmer comes to life in the milky stone when the light hits it just right. Separating the band and the centrepiece are two small flowers with diamond centres. Two separate rings sit beneath and below the main one, shaped in V’s to follow the curve. At each point are flowers similar the the others, with curved leaves flowing from the petals. All three are gold, contrasting against the silver to make a statement.

I’m not just looking back at Dario’s partner. I’m looking at his wife.

I’m Will’s wife. 

Fake wife, really. I nearly shake my head in wonder. I still look like myself, but everything about this makes me feel like I’m wearing a second skin. Lyanna’s skin. Every so often I stare at the ring in amazement. If anyone ever proposes to me, I would hope for nothing less than the magnificent that is this ring. All that adorns my body is courtesy of Will. Unbeknownst to me before this mission, he’s filthy rich, and a filthy rich man needs a filthy rich wife. All the designer jewellery, the dress, the shoes, and the engagement ring are authentic and top dollar.

After the last touch-ups of make-up, fragrances, and hair, I’m making my way to the courtyard. I’m to have one last briefing and run over of the plan before getting in Will’s blacked-out Corvette. I have to give it to him: he really knows how to pull off a lavish life with style.

Already am I wishing to rip off the damn stilettos on my feet. While I could live in the dress and jewellery, this is the one day a year I’m willing to wear heels.

The air is cool, the last golden light of day painting the courtyard and walls of Alejandro’s HQ in a luminescent glow. A low rumble fills the air from my 'husband’s car. Will leans against it, speaking with the 141. Ghost lingers back by the front door, arms folded and back leaning against a pillar. Weaving between his fingers with precision is a small dagger. His head turns at the sound of approaching heels.

“Was starting to think you were a no show,” he says gruffly.

I stop beside him to adjust my dress. It doesn’t really need adjust, but suddenly being subjected to his gaze makes me anxious. “Told you it would take a while. Gotta look the part.”

The way his eyes travel over my body almost makes me shrink away. Every curve is on full display. The tight bodice holds up my already full breasts, and somehow my waist-to-hip ratio is even more accentuated. Wearing my uniform doesn’t exactly hide my figure thanks to the tight shirts and cargo pants that aren’t exactly loose from my mid-thigh up. However, a lot of me is lost beneath the vests and belts.

“Stop...inspecting me, or whatever you're doing,” I mumble. “Makes me think I need to fix something.”

I begin taking the skirts in my hand as I survey my descent. It’s not too much, but the steps are steep enough to be an issue. The heels on my feet are no help.

Ghost shakes his head. “Don’t. You look…”

“Important?”

“Pretty.”

I stop in my tracks to look back at him, unsure if I heard him correctly. He doesn’t look away or seem embarrassed to have said so. Then again, when does he ever. No-nonsense and prideful in his emotionless character, Ghost is not one to regret his words. Everything he says is a calculated move. Compliments are certainly something to be calculated in a sense, but I don't think of it to be a compliment, even when a small part of me screams for more. I'm playing my part well; there'd be a problem if I wasn't looking pretty. A slow smile quirks at my lips, teasing in nature as I raise my brows. The teasing turns to surprise, however, when he offers me his arm.

“How chivalrous,” I quip as I lightly take his offered arm. Even the slightest contact sends thrills beneath my skin. “Careful, Lieutenant. I might start to think you actually like me.”

Ghost’s eyes train on the ground. At first, I wonder if he doesn’t want to meet my eyes, only then to realise he’s watching my footing. I barely catch a glimpse of his squint.

“I like you in one piece,” he corrects. “This job will be over the second you sprain your ankle on a flight of stairs.”

I hum. “Ahh, there it is.”

He looks up at me then. “There’s what?”

“Thinking about the job, as always.”

As always, I keep my tone light and teasing, but there's an accusing hint. A subtle jab I let slip that I pray goes unnoticed.

There's no room for emotions in this job, and though I've compromised that with the rest of the 141, Ghost is a difficult case. An impossible riddle, a mind-numbing equation with no real answer. Nothing about him should be likeable. He's painfully honest and dismissive when he bothers to speak, he's angry half the time, his attention is never lingering and his mind is an impenetrable fortress. It would make more sense to give in to Alejandro's shameless flirting or Gaz's sleazy grins. Only, it's Ghost that keeps me up at night. It's Ghost, who sends a pang through my chest when he reminds me any care is from pure investment in performance. I'm useful, nothing more.

I can count on one hand the number of times he's thrown me small morsels of care as if I were a stray dog whining and begging for food. Even then, I wouldn't have made it past three fingers. A greedy piece of me spins those memories into something that serves my desire. See, he's returning your interest, that hopeful voice purrs in my ear while feeding me botched versions of what really happened. I know better than to give in to the delusions. The ending of those memories is what sobers me, and it's no different now. I need you in shape for tomorrow. Keep your head in the game. I'm just making sure this isn't interrupting the job. He's always quick to redirect any concern from me to the job.

Maybe, just maybe...what if he was trying to save face? Does he not want to care?

Ghost remains silent for a moment. In consideration or because he doesn’t care to answer, I can’t tell. But when he does answer, his voice has my full attention. It’s low and rough, each syllable laced with something intoxicating. Something I've never heard before and never thought I would hear. Something I want to hear again and again.

“You have no idea what I think about, dove.”

Dove.

The response catches me so off guard I almost forget to take another step. We’ve reached the bottom of the steps, now. The second both my feet are on the flat expanse of the concrete driveway, he breaks away from our linked arms. There is no follow-up, no hint of a miscommunication, not even a look in my direction before he's gone from my side. All I can do is hesitantly trail behind him, lost in my thoughts.

Ghost has never given me a nickname before. Hell, he barely refers to me as anything other than my callsign. When I do hear my real name, it's never for good reasons.

The nickname that pours from his lips comes in a deep voice curled into a sensual tone, sounding like silk-covered marble, low and intended for my ears only. It's strangely intimate—something a lover would purr with lustful eyes and a seeking touch. Somehow it seems to invoke a phantom touch that glides across my skin. Gooseflesh puckers in its chilling wake. In the span of only a few seconds, I seem to experience every emotion humanly possible. Shock, surprise, a sickening, perverse enjoyment...and irritation that I must now join the rest of the team as if a mind-numbing heat was not boiling in the pits of my stomach

• • • • •

I'll get the formatting of posting these to be prettier btw I promise 🙏🙏 But anyway just interact with this or tell me directly if you want more.

[sweetestlittledarling]

Lullaby

Note: I originally wasn't going to post something for this prompt but then I had a vision of Julian holding a baby and I couldn't let it go. So this is for @vesuviaweekly's prompt 'Tried Dancing'

Sparrow awoke in the early morning before the sun. Rolling over she had thought to find her sleeping husband but found nothing but his pillow. She sat up slowly, listening and heard the sound of movement from the nearby room. Sparrow slipped out of bed quietly and walked down the hallway to the nursery, decorated with scenes of a gentle ocean and ships, including one with a familiar pirate flag. In the dim light of the magical night light, Sparrow could see the shape of her husband, swaying on his feet as he held their son securely to his chest. The little red-haired babe, Misha, was fast asleep as his father sang a sweet lullaby.

              Sparrow smiled as she watched the scene, keeping silent as she listened to Julian sing. She didn’t fully understand the words, but she could feel that they were gentle and loving towards the sweet little boy in his arms. From the day he was born Julian had been smitten by their child though Sparrow couldn’t blame him as she was as well. It took a long moment before Julian noticed her standing there, a soft smile on her face.

              “I’m sorry love did I wake you?”

              Sparrow shook her head. “No, I think I was just sensing the need to be around my two favorite boys.” she answered, placing a hand gently on one of Julian’s arms as she placed a gentle kiss on their baby’s head. “Have you both been awake long?”

              “No,” Julian said, stormy eyes sparkling. “I heard him fussing and thought I would give you a break. He seems to enjoy it when I walk with him.”

              “It’s true,” Sparrow said, smiling up to Julian, “he does love his papa.”

              “And his mama, who is truly a wonder herself. Honestly a goddess amongst women.”

              Sparrow let out a little laugh as she rolled her eyes. “Julian Devorak, we just had one baby are you trying to butter me to make another?”

              Julian grinned knowingly. “Well, I do admit the idea of making another has crossed my mind. But that of course will be for later. I confess that I just adore you and him.” He looked down at the little one in his arms then back at his wife with all the love and adoration in his eyes. “My little family, my beautiful wife and my beautiful son. Just a few years ago I did not think this would have ever been possible and yet here I am, in my clinic with the both of you. Honestly it feels like a dream sometimes, one I would never wish to wake from.”

              “You don’t have to worry my love, because this is no dream, and we are not going anywhere.” Sparrow leaned up and kissed his lips gently, slowly, and in a way that nearly brought the doctor to tears.

              His eyes were a bit misty as she pulled away. “Thank you my dear.”

              “Always and forever my love.” She looked down at their still sleeping son. “By the way, what was that song you were singing? It’s very pretty.”

              “That was the song the grandmothers used to sing to us in Nevivon,” Julian explained as he carefully set the sleeping baby back into his crib. “It always seemed to help when either I or Pasha had trouble sleeping. I am glad to know that it still works.”

              “Indeed, grandmother magic is often some of the most powerful magic there is.”

              Julian’s eyes grew wide. “Wait, was that really magic? Was I casting a spell?”

              Sparrow again laughed as she took his hand. “Come to be my love and cast some of that magic on the both of us before the sun rises and our baby decides it’s time to wake up again.”

...

End Notes:

-They indeed do have another child, a daughter by the name Alisa.

-I imagine the lullaby Julian would be singing would be something like this:

[lunastarhawk]

Safe Places - Part 2

Julian and gender neutral MC. Fluffy rating.

Wrote a thing on the way home from work. Another short thing that I'll just post here.

MC holds Julian after an awful day at the clinic.

The sound of the door opening and closing was faint, but still enough to wake me from my doze.  I'd drifted off on the couch while waiting for Julian to get home.  He often worked late at the clinic, but I didn't like him to be alone when he got home.

He mumbled an apology for waking me.  As I sat up, setting aside the book that had dropped on my chest when my eyes had closed, he came over to me and bent down.  Gentle fingers pushed my hair from my face, tired eyes met mine.  He pressed a kiss to my lips, and nudged my cheek with his nose.  

I sensed the faintest tremor in his hands, in his kiss.  A shudder in his breaths.  

I told him there was food in the kitchen, and with a wry smile added that I hadn't burnt my hand this time.  But I watched him closely.  Behind his watery smile and half-hearted quip, his eyes, dark like a frozen lake on a moonless night, looked into the middle distance, haunted and pained.  Something had happened.

Into his hesitation I reached out and took his hand.  His gaze dropped.  

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked softly.

He didn't look at me immediately, instead seeing only whatever it was that hurt him.  I'd seen him like this before; as a doctor, the weight of some of the things he saw, the things he had to do, or couldn't do, the patients he lost... it was a heavy burden.  And it wasn't one I would push him to relive.

And so, when his eyes met mine again with their silent plea, I shifted so my back was at the arm of the couch, one leg stretched out in front of me, the other hanging off the edge, and patted the couch in front of me.

With a grateful smile, Julian shrugged out of his coat and slung it over the back of another chair, and sat in front of me, between my legs; there wasn't enough room for us to lay side by side.  Once he'd stretched both his long legs out, I pulled my other leg up and wrapped both around him.  He wriggled down, eventually settling leaning back on me, shoulders across my stomach and head turned so his cheek rested on my chest.

His chest rose and fell in a relieved sigh, and he nuzzled into my chest.

I bent and kissed the top of his head, lingering there as my hands bowed over his shoulders, working gently into the knots there.  As they began to loosen, Julian relaxed, sighed again, rested one hand in his lap and the other on my thigh.  

I slid one hand down over his chest, worked open the buttons and slipped inside, through the scattering of soft hair, resting over his heart.  There, I traced small, light circles - out with fingertips, back with a faint scrape of nails.  Five strokes, then I lay my palm flat on his chest.  His heart was racing, pounding.  I traced shapes again.

My other hand was in his hair, running one lock at a time between my thumb and forefinger with a gentle tug. 

His chest rose and fell in a trembling sigh, his nose and cheek nuzzled my chest.  A tension came to his chest, a held breath released in short, tight bursts.

I held him closer between my thighs, my hand moved from his hair, and I leaned down over him, encircling his head with my arm and resting my hand on his cheek, pulling him close into my chest.

I began to hum, one of his favourite shanties, but at a lower tempo, quiet and low.  He pressed his ear against my chest, feeling the vibration of my wordless voice there. Another time, he'd told me that my breaths moving through his hair reminded him of a sea breeze.

Every now and then, a sweep of my thumb brushed silent tears from their pools below his eyes.

By the time I'd reached the end of the song, his cheeks were dry, his shoulders relaxed, his breaths smooth and deep, his hand squeezing my thigh.  I flattened my palm over his chest; the heartbeats were slow and steady.  His hand rose up, lay over mine, and he whispered a thank you.

He tilted his head back to look up at me; I combed my fingers through his hair, bent and kissed his forehead.  He told me he was tired; so very, very tired.

I took him to the bedroom, helped him out of his clothes and into bed, and as I lay down beside him I pulled the blanket over us.  We lay facing each other, and as Julian curled I pulled his head into my chest.  His arm moved over me, and his hand on my back pulled me closer as he nuzzled into my chest, drawing comfort from my presence with his lips, cheeks and nose.  

I hooked my leg over his hip, cradled his head in one arm against me, my other hand on his back and my lips and voice in his hair.  I couldn't stop his nightmares, but I could catch him when he fell.

He murmured my name.  "If… if I wake…"

"Ssshh."  I tightened my hold. "I'll be here.  You're safe."

Part of Domestic Daydreams on AO3

[iridescent-solstice]

Fic 1/2 made for the amazing @cinsilly for winning this contest I hosted a while back. I hope you like it and also thank you for participating in my silly little shenanigans. If I did my job right, hopefully you’ll join future events too! 🙆🏻‍♀️

The candle by his side burns faithfully as Julian leans over his cluttered desk. Wispy strands of his ginger hair wave back and forth as he grumbles in frustration. With an aching back and cramped wrists, his sleep deprived mind urges him to take a break.

But he won't. Because there is much to be done. Far too much.

He chides himself internally for not working enough. For not being fast enough. Because, despite the countless hours he’s spent here, there are still too many old journals to comb through. Too many documents he’s scribbled and had to scrap or re-read. He's frustrated. Tired. Hungry and extremely worried for all the people out there in worse conditions than he is. The physical states of those already infected aren't getting much better, and the count's temper is only getting worse. "DAMMIT WHY IS NOTHING WORKING!" He curses slamming his fist down on the poor table. It's like he's walking around in endless circles, isn't he? There has to be a cure! He chants in his head. With a library as huge as this, there must be something here about a plague spreading by beetles.

It’s almost beginning to feel like he’s drowning in pile and piles of unending assigned reading. Even with an apprentice, there’s still so much he has to do. If he doesn’t . . . No. Julian shakes the thoughts away. He doesn’t want to think about those consequences. Finding the cure is too vital a task to slack on. And he won't discover it if he spends all his time wondering about what will happen if he doesn't manage to uncover it. He can do it . . . Well, even if he couldn’t, there are too many people's lives at stake to not try his darn hardest. Too people relying on him. The countess. The citizens of Versuvia. The count. But most importantly . . . his apprentice is counting on him too. So, he has to find a cure. No.matter.what.the.cost.

Books, letters, documents and other knick knacks are sprawled all over the cinnamon-coloured table. But the mess inside his head is even worse than the one infront of him. A looming giant window behind him gives a glimpse into the internal state of the city. Cold, dark, deserted and in complete disarray. The normal hustle and bustle is no longer as usual as it once used to be. You’d be lucky if you saw a single person in sight. Not anymore though. They’re all hiding away inside their homes. He has no doubt that you would be too if you gave yourself the luxury too.

But he’s glad you haven’t taken that liberty. That you care enough to stay by his side. To risk your life. He has no idea how he'd do this without you. Throughout all his travels at sea, he's spent a great deal of his time alone. But he doesn't think he could ever go back to that lifestyle anymore. He needs you. 

He needs you to check up on him. To hold his hand and cheerfully tell him everything will be alright again. To not give up. He nee- No he wants you. Wants you to sit suspiciously close by as he navigates the medical forms. While he relays the important findings he just discovered. As he flips through the records. Patient after patient, case after case. It’s almost too much, but he knows he can handle it. With you by his side, he’s sure he can handle anything. Fatigued eyes search all over the table but his thoughts wander to you again. Like they always do when he’s stressed out. Are you hunched over a desk like he is? Huddled up in your shop researching old tomes? He wonders if you think about him too. He wonders if you miss his company as much as he misses yours. He can’t imagine those talking books to be good company. 

[ ᴅɪ��ɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙʏ: @/fairytopea]

[ffeelann]

The Arcana as ARGENTINOS

haci como escuCHASTES

ASRA:

Nombre delicado, lo criaron los abuelos.

Usa frases del año del orto.

''Quedar bien con Dios y con el Diablo'' kid.

Como sos MC no putea en frente tuyo. Él un caballerito.

Tiene hormigas en el culo, no podés llevarlo al carnaval porque se te escapa y capaz perdido no está pero NO ESTÁ POR NINGÚN LADO.

Se sabe todos los programas q están al aire y de vez en cuando ve de nuevo novelas como Esperanza Mía o Educando a Nina.

JULIAN:

Se llama Julián.

Vio siete veces Casi Ángeles.

Es insoportable porque le gusta un poco que lo corrijan todo el tiempo.

Portia lo persigue para que lave un plato.

Él era el preferido de la profe de teatro.

Si estudia ciencias, lo hace por aceptación social. Él quería cantar en Broadway.

Sus outfits están chetos porque ofenden a las señoras y a los conservadores. Te amo Julian.

NADIA:

Alma de vieja. Tenía cinco años y ella solita se sentaba a ver el Zorro en la tele.

No soporta Gran Hermano, le causa pensamientos violentos, pero a su familia y a Lucio le gusta así que se fuma el programa.

Es una cheta piola, en primaria capaz que le hacían bullying hasta que un día las hermanas se pararon de manos.

100% segura estoy de que estuvo enamorada de una profe de literatura.

Es una chica 11 posts, 56789 seguidores, 790 seguidos en instagram. Te amo Nadia.

Es la primera en poner casa para ir a merendar con el grupito de whatsapp. Y en las juntadas siempre se porta y lleva a alguien.

Las amigas en el grupo de whatsapp están hasta el moño de Lucio. Lo odian.

LUCIO:

Le dio dengue.

En secundaria era el que siempre tenía quilombo y los ig de confesiones estaban llenos de cagadas que él, DE HECHO, se había mandado en algún momento.

Bostero a morir.

Siempre en el club él, pero no le gusta hacer él el asado porque no le gusta tener olor a humo.

Se enoja por la inflación y es el primero en comprar boludeces que no necesita.

Cuando hablan de política él se sustenta gritando.

Tiene grabado casados con hijos en el cerebro.

MURIEL:

Se crió viendo Hijitus y él es igual(un dulce de leche que vive con su pichicho en una lata)(no es una lata pero poco más y sí).

Todavía toma chocolatada y lo que vos le digas no le va a impedir comprarse su Nesquik.

El momento más sociable de su vida fue cuando ganamos la copa y desde entonces los vecinos no le tienen más miedo.

Vive en un terrenito en las sierras.

Su casa tiene un sólo punto donde hay conexión a internet.

Todo animal q encuentra automáticamente tiene casa. Sea una serpiente, un sapo o un elefante. Él lo alimenta como si fuese un perrito q encontró.

Nunca fue a votar porque nunca le renovaron el DNI así que legalmente él no figura en ningún lado. No existe.

PORTIA:

Mochilera.

Ella es la de los reels bonitos de lugares chetos de Argentina.

Adora profundamente las cataratas del Iguazú.

Los emprendimientos de cositas veganas y sustentables la aman profundamente porque ella existe por y para las ferias.

Ella quiere comprarse su barquito así que es influencer de viaje sólo por eso.

Julian tiene el chat explotado de fotos porque ella le manda 1000000 cosas.

Es fan de la Locomotora y de Paula Paretto.

Ella seguramente se llamaría Paula.

[endupherefic]

Chapters: 1/13 Fandom: The Arcana (Visual Novel) Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Apprentice/Lucio (The Arcana), Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana), Apprentice/Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana), Julian Devorak/Original Female Character(s), Lucio (The Arcana)/Original Female Character(s), Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana)/Original Character(s) Characters: Julian Devorak, Lucio (The Arcana), The Apprentice - Character, Original Female Character(s), Nazali Satrinava, Count Spada (The Arcana) Additional Tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, Blood, Injury, Mild Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Romance, Slow Burn, Julian's POV, Lucio's POV, Amputation, Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Alcohol, Plague, Pre-Red Plague (The Arcana), Red Plague (The Arcana), Other Additional Tags to Be Added Series: Part 1 of End Up Here (Reworked)

Summary: “I- I thought of a name you could call yourself,” Julian ventures, voice shaky. Montag merely looks expectantly back at the young man, wordless for once. Julian takes a deep breath before he speaks. “Lucio,” he almost whispers, voice catching in his throat, “It means, ‘light.’”

Julian Devorak's life is changed forever when he crosses paths with an enigmatic magician and a mercenary with a troubled past.

A rework of my fanfiction End Up Here.

Chapter 1: First Meetings

Montag’s eyes are wild, piercing, and bright despite his overall weakness. Julian can feel them boring into him from across the room, their keenness unnerving in the dim light of the medical tent. Montag is not what Julian had been expecting when he had first heard that Count Spada, himself, had requested the presence of the battle-hardened mercenary for this war. Julian wouldn’t have been surprised if some ancient, brooding, beast-of-a-man were to have hacked his way through the battlefield and come storming into Julian’s tent. But Montag Morgasson is quite the opposite: lean and compact, his youthful features sharp but delicate. His blonde hair, though grimy now with sweat and dirt, is otherwise silken in quality. He’s striking, really. But what is most striking about him, Julian notes, are his eyes: Montag’s eyes are almost as pale as the moon, feral and glimmering with determination. It’s hard for Julian not to lose himself completely in them.

Montag is supported by two other soldiers, both weary and haggard, but a lot better off than him. His left arm is hanging loosely at his side, as limp as the strands of blonde that have fallen in front of his vision. But even through the muss of golden hair, Julian can sense the mercenary’s unrelenting gaze. As the tent flap falls shut, the din of soldiers calling out orders and the clang of sword-against-sword hushes to nothing. Julian must practically wrench himself from the mercenary’s hypnotic hold on him when one of the soldiers asks where Montag’s broken form ought to go...

Continue Reading on AO3

[ghosttung-9]

Hii! First time posting on tumblr but i would like to share my Arcana fanfic i am working on! The first chapter is up and im trying to reach out to as many Arcana lovers as possible.

[maximwtf]

“I’ll promise you this.”

                                  Julian Devorak x Reader

words: 1200

google docs pages: 2.5

Warnings: description of the red plague and the symptoms, death.

opening: Julian is so busy working on the cure for the plague, that he doesn’t notice you, his apprentice falling ill. He comes to find out about your condition when he finds you locked in his office. 

AN// Does this fandom have any demand on here anymore? I have no idea. I’ve still come back to this fandom after all these years, because I saw 1 picture of Julian on my Pinterest feed. (Reader can be any gender)

                                 “I’ll promise you this.”

It had started as a simple cough, and if you hadn’t been working as hard as you were, you might have realised that it wasn’t just a simple cough. Being Julian’s apprentice made you work as hard as you could for the cure, which led you to ignore your own health most of the time. This all put together got you to ignore the symptoms of the very thing you were searching a cure for. But you not noticing what had been going on, didn’t mean that no one had noticed. As the cough got worse and your temperature began to rise, Valdemar noticed. 

It was already night, and you had been planning to leave soon, only collecting some of your things from the dungeons before getting out of there. A voice caught your attention, you weren’t alone anymore. “Doctor 069 left you something in his office. He requested for you to see it as soon as possible.” Valdemar’s cold voice said. You could only let out an agreeing hum, accompanied by a firm nod. You snapped your bag shut, and slowly swayed your way to Julian’s office. You could tell there was a fever rising in your body, and by today you had come to accept the fact that you had fallen ill without noticing. A nasty cough escaped your mouth but that didn’t startle you, the slam from behind you did. It was as if your body turned around on its own to see what had happened. The office door had been slammed shut, and before you could speak a word the key on the other side of the door turned, clicking it locked. “W-what?” You asked, leaning on the wooden table behind you. “You obviously got a case of the plague. We can’t have you getting others ill as well, can we?” Valdemar’s cold voice replied as they walked away. The heels of their shoes clicked against the hard floor, before disappearing completely.

You slumped down onto Julian’s chair, chest feeling heavy. It was true that you’d be a danger to others out there, but this wasn’t the place you would have ever thought of having to die in. Gaze following along and slumping down to your hands, you could see the redness starting from the tips of your fingers, soon it would spread more. This morning your left eye had seemed a little red, and by now it must have been worse. There was no mirror to fact check that from, but you had taken care of enough patients to know how the symptoms progressed. Time would pass in the cold dungeons, and as the fiver would rise you’d slowly start to get more delirious. 

Time passed, but you couldn't count the hours anymore. Your vision felt blurry and a cold sweat kept you feeling uneasy. The only sound you could hear were the bugs in the pit, feeding on their latest meal. It disgusted you, or would have if you weren't in the delirious state you had thought about earlier. Nothing made sense, time felt like it didn’t exist anymore and sometimes when you gained a little bit of your sense back you’d find yourself either sitting on the cold floor or sitting on the chair with your head in your hands. Your body shook. 

Through all this, you couldn’t hear what was going on outside the small office. But someone had heard you, heard the heavy breathing and painful sounding coughs. Julian had a worried look on his face as he fumbled with his keys, clicking the lock open and revealing your worn out form, leaning against the table. “Y/n!” He exclaimed as the keys fell from his hands, clinking as they went down. The doctor was quickly by your side, leaning you off of the table to get a look at you. “Open your eyes for me dear.” He said silently, tapping your cheek a little to get you to cooperate. His eyes went over your form frantically, not even noticing that he was biting down on his bottom lip. A groan left your mouth as you opened your eyes, gaze wandering around the grim room. That was enough for Julian to see the scleras of your eyes had turned red. The one that had started to go earlier was a deeper shade, the other had just begun the process. Julian took a napkin from his coat, wiping the cold sweat from your forehead in a desperate attempt to help you. Your hand shook as it lifted up to take a hold of his wrist, barely hanging on. “Stop. You’ll get infected.” You groaned out, looking up at him. His eyes on the other hand were on your palm, watching the red that had spread even more from the tips of your fingers. “How did I not notice…” He scolded himself the same way you had seen him do many times in the past. “We’ve both been busy.” You mumbled as a response, feeling the sense in you being pulled away by the high fever.It almost felt like something was taking over you, not allowing you to think properly. 

A loud rumbling noise filled the room as Julian sweeped half of the items from the table to the floor, some of them he slid into a compartment. “Come on dear, we’ll get you all healed up.” He murmured as he lifted you to the table, laying you to your side, in a position he had found the patients at this stage found the easiest to breathe in. “I’ll get some leeches and we’ll-” His almost frantic voice said, not being able to hide his sheer panic and regret much longer. “There is no need for that.” You growled out, trying to keep a hold of your mind as it spiralled. “Surely you don’t think I’m leaving you to die here?” The doctor said in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, mostly for himself. “What is there to do?” A much weaker cough escaped from you. “If you wish to help me, find the cure after I pass. Then my work was not for nothing.” You added slowly, the fever making you see things. You might have only been an apprentice, but you knew what a good fever was capable of. Your comment seemed to have stunned Julian in a way for a moment, since he didn’t say anything. 

The doctor's hands had formed into fists, anger in him boiling as the knowledge of not being able to do anything for you slowly set in. Could have he prevented this if he had noticed earlier? You didn’t deserve this. If anyone deserved this, it was him. He should be laying on that table, alone. Julian easened his jaw, and spoke up. “I’ll find the cure. I’ll promise you that my dear.” He looked down, hair falling over the white raven-like mask. There was no response from you anymore, and wouldn’t be for a long time. 

[bakuliwrites]

End Up Here, Chapter 16 sneak peek (since I am actually working on it once again and have momentum). Hoping to have this posted within the next couple weeks :)

Julian wakes with a tender whisper of, “Ilya, love?” echoing in his ears. When his eyes fly open, however, he is alone in his apartment, aside from Brundle slumbering on her bed in the far corner. He swears he smells the Apprentice’s incense for a fleeting moment, before it is replaced with the sour scent of stale coffee. The doctor’s sides ache, oblique muscles taut from a night spent curled up on the kitchen floor. Joints crackle and creak as Julian lifts himself slowly from the ground. The creamy gold of noontime sunlight bathes the apartment with a warm glow. Life feels hazy for a solitary moment, liminal and empty in a strangely pleasant way. Despite the ache in his body, this is the first time Julian has slept, undisturbed, for goodness knows how many months. He sits for a while, lost in time, letting the sun warm him from the outside-in.