#Julian's cheeky expression there!

[tundrafloe]

Q: What’s more important to the Boosh – Noel’s hair or Howard’s moustache?

Julian: "Well, I think it’s Vince’s hair. It’s the most expensive thing on the set. He’s got bodyguards for his hair and a lot of people working on it. It’s like a pit-stop. If he’s out and about, he’ll give a quick call and 15 men turn up in jump-suits and re-do his fringe. So it’s a big production; if that goes down, the whole thing goes down.”

(BBC Manchester, 2006)

#Julian's cheeky expression there! #julian barratt #noel fielding #noelian #howince #howard moon #vince noir #the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #booshlr

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6 and Kisses

~ enjoy :3 ~

Julian

Kissing him is never unemotional

Heated moments aside, Julian gives you both planned and unplanned kisses. Depending on the mood and context, how that feels and how that progresses can change drastically

He loves "occasion" kisses, tiny little pauses of the day's etiquette where he gets to swoop in and leave a peck on your cheek. Hello kisses, goodbye kisses, thanks-for-checking-on-me-at-2-AM-because-I'm-still-awake-from-thinking-too-much kisses ...

... though that last kind is less likely to be on the cheek, and more likely to be the most tired, grateful "thank you" you've ever heard, whispered against your lips as he trails after your touch

Unplanned kisses happen whenever someone says or does something that reminds him of what you mean to him. Between his scholar's brain and bleeding heart is a vast sea of sentiment

Maybe it's seeing one of the South End vendors, stooped with age, quietly lighting up as their equally weathered partner walks by on the other side of the canal and blows them a cheeky smooch

He never thought he'd live long enough to look like that, but now all he can think about is how he can't wait to be that with you

Then he's making good use of that massive coat of his, catching up to you in two long strides, pulling you into one of those all-encompassing hugs before he swoops the cape of it between you and prying eyes so he can pour his soul into a heartfelt kiss

Asra

Never the same and always the same, somehow

They don't care to be publicly vulnerable, so you're not going to get any lingering kisses in the street, or the market, or the tavern

But considering the extent to which his love for you has completely consumed him, he can't not express affection for you

And besides, they've never been conventional. Why limit themself to your face when you've got a whole body?

Unexpected kisses peppered across your knuckles when you hold hands. A subtle peck to the pulse point below your ear when he leans in to whisper something to you. The briefest brush of his lips against the back of your shoulder as you stand and wait together

All this without ever expecting anything in return - doing anything similarly sweet and subtle back will result in a blushing, stumbling, zoned-out magician and a laughing snake

Privately, kisses aren't about a heated moment (though they have been known to play into them, when you were interested ...)

They're about savoring you, lingering on the gift of your warm, living presence, delighting in their chance to luxuriate in finally expressing every ounce of devoted adoration for you

For someone as playful and creative as he is, every moment your mouths meet is a little different, a little new, that childlike curiosity excited to find yet another way to feel you

All while that loyal, bone-deep love feels like coming home

Nadia

Kissing her feels like you're being blessed

Getting kissed in public is almost always a statement of some kind. Each brush of her lips against your skin carries the weight of an important message

Anything from a kiss to your wrist, telling you that you handled a tricky situation well, to a firm kiss on your mouth, telling everyone around you that you are her most important person

It could be easy to feel you're just another face orbiting her, with how naturally she commands the attention of a room and takes charge of any situation and brings it into line

But when every moment of contact is designed to honor you, to credit you with the leader she's become, you may find that not sharing the spotlight with her is almost impossible

In private, kisses are raw and unrefined

They're still purposeful, but there's no grand painting to be a part of. The woman next to you is not the Countess, but the person who trusts you wholeheartedly and expects no less in return

Dizzying intensity, feeling every emotion freely expressed against your lips, watching her thoughts flit across her open, unguarded face. She desires vulnerability and abandons ceremony in her rush to be close to you. If there's no walls between you, why hold back?

Being the sole focus of such a powerful, regal person feels a bit like taking the concentrated power of the sun. Except it's Nadia, and her neverending need to saturate you with her love

Muriel

Kisses with him are tender

Halting and awkward, at first, and a little lost as he gets his practice, and much more involved and intense as time goes on, but never lacking in gentleness and consideration

You can count the amount of times he's kissed you in public on one hand. He is not into PDA by a long shot

Luckily for you, you two live in the woods. Being in public requires planning ahead. Being in private is another normal day

Casual kisses take time. They're never thoughtless, instead being something you receive in a split second after about ten minutes of intense mental planning and preparation on his part

Over time, you find it's easier for him to give you casual kisses with his fingertips - brushing your cheek gently, pressing one finger to his own lips before lightly tapping it to your nose

He has accidentally kissed your nose when he was aiming for your mouth multiple times now. The only way to convince him to get past it and keep initiating kisses was to make it an inside joke

Kisses for him are a way to reaffirm every silent promise he's made you. Whether it be his commitment to sticking life out with you, to healing, to growing, to protecting, to nurturing with you

To him, it's the weighty comfort of building a new home and family with you. To you, it's safety and trust and security and gentleness beyond imagining. Not the most heated, but always warm

Portia

Kissing her is like bubbling over

She loves fiercely and without restraint. If you're hers and she's yours, there is no reason to hold back

Kisses are her extension of general physical affection. She'll stand with her arm around you, nuzzling into your cheek as she teases you in conversation and planting a kiss there while she's at it

She's also so openly affectionate towards anyone she cares about that there's next to no room for anybody to feel awkward

If it's in reach and she's happy you're with her for the hundredth time that day, she's kissing it. Shoulders, arms, hands, elbows, nose, cheeks, hair - there are very few limits

Kisses in private don't get outrageously creative, but they take on a whole host of meanings for someone as expressive as she is

Frustrated kisses when she feels like she's failed, excited kisses when she's got a new idea, flirtatious kisses that make you feel those new couple butterflies after decades of life together

"You're irresistible with flour in your hair" kisses, scattered all across your face in her sunlit kitchen before she pulls you in for something longer and deeper and sweeter

"You make life feel like a storybook" kisses, full of suspended disbelief and excited giggles and romantic embraces

"You make me the main character of my story" kisses, lingering long as she holds you to her chest and savors your companionship

Lucio

Kissing him is an adventure

He wasn't used to kisses meaning much more than a good time. At least, not before you. By the time he met you, the ability to feel warmth and basic touch was overwhelmingly precious

As easy at it is for casual affection to be simply casual for him, it's never unappreciated, and certainly not taken for granted

Has no issues with PDA. If he wants a kiss, and you want a kiss, then it's time to enjoy a kiss. Anybody who has a problem with it is free to look in any other direction (though he's not thinking that far)

From moment to moment, they're the added spice to a good life. Sudden, rushed, sloppy kisses on the road just because he can, and because he's about to disregard that "no trespassing" sign

In quieter moments, kisses become so precious that each one feels like a polished gemstone falling into your lap

He's been starving all his life for a true connection, for a reliable affection that tells him it's safe to believe you when you tell him that you love him. He may act entitled, but he's not oblivious

Holding such a rollercoaster of a man while he loses both himself and all of his emotions in the safety of your kisses is enough to get you a little lost too, if you let yourself get drawn in

As much as he might grandstand and monologue as he puts all that leadership charisma into charming you, the moment you hold his face in your hands, he's clinging to your soul and offering his own in return. Through his mouth. Into your mouth. Again, please -

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[theroyalsandi]

Swedish Royal Family - Prince Julian, Duke of Halland stole the show with his cheeky facial expressions whilst standing on the balcony of Stockholm's Royal Palace for his grandfather's birthday anniversary in Stockholm, Sweden. (Photo courtesy of Shutterstock) | April 30, 2024

#royaltyedit #theroyalsandi #prince julian #prince julian of sweden #prince julian duke of halland #swedish royal family #my edit

[ghoultrifle]

Ghost on Taskmaster !!

Copia is Alex Horne and you cannot convince me otherwise. Awkward rat boy who's subservient to his master? Yeah, rings a bell.

Honestly I don't think any of the papas have the right vibes to be the taskmaster, in my mind it's Omega. Big, strong, kinda mean and takes no shit.

Okay now here's my ghoul-by-ghoul analysis on what kind of contestant they'd be and which past contestant i'd compare them to !!

Aether - Definitely a Jo Brand or Julian Clary. Couldn't give less of a shit, just here for the free food tbh. Will occasionally try but can't be fucked to do anything physical. Everyone loves him for it, too.

Cirrus - Kiell Smith-Bynoe. Ultra competitive, has beef with another contestant (Rain). Effortlessy hilarious in everything she does.

Aurora - Charlotte Ritchie. Dressed appropriately (dungarees). Tries really hard but doesn't always succeed. Very optimistic though :)

Mountain - A mix of Bob Mortimer and Mark Watson. He's a prize task extraordinaire with hundreds of unbelievable (but true) stories. Will also get bullied by the Taskmaster though.

Phantom - Lucy Beaumont and Judi Love vibes. Just doesn't seem to understand what the fuck is going on at any point. A good laugh though and will always fight for points.

Sunny - James Acaster. She's chaos incarnate ("My eyes are circles?"). You think it's a character but as time goes on you begin to question that assumption ajskldfkh.

Rain - Mae Martin. Gay and good at it. No notes.

Cumulus - Al Murray. She's focused but also really cheeky. Always looking for loopholes. Will throw money at the tasks like it's nobody's business.

Dewdrop - Nish Kumar or Katherine Parkinson. People think he's going to be a half decent contestant, but he's actually incredibly shit at everything. Gets annoyed frequently.

Swiss - Ed Gamble. Once again very competitive and will throw a fit if he doesn't win. Can also laugh at himself but secretly dies inside when he does badly on a task. A great podcast host for the after-show interviews.

tagging people who expressed even the tiniest bit of interest so this incredibly niche post doesn't flop @sphylor, @thesunhatesme, @chapel-of-rizztual, @ghouletteanon, @cheerycherrycandy-resurrected, @mikorsghouls

Thank you for listening, have some homoeroticism :)

#trifle rambles #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghoul hcs #shitghosting #all the ghouls are there #i cba to list em

[airanke]

Totally forgot to yeet this at you earlier hhhhhh

For the ask game:

"A kiss while playing a game (spin the bottle, truth or dare, etc) w both Hawks and Asra~

^w^ love you bestie~

[Prompt from here.]

(Spin the Bottle with Hawks.)

It was not in your wildest dreams that you would even find yourself playing Spin the Bottle with fully grown adults - much less with adults like Hawks. Did the Number 2 hero really have no where better to be than at a house party? In fact - who invited him to the house party?

Certainly not you.

Rumi, though, she kept giving you A Look. Mischief danced in her pretty eyes, cheeky grin spreading over her lips every time you glanced in her direction.

A grin that morphed into a gleeful cackle when it was finally your turn to spin the bottle - Nemuri had gotten you, and given you a friendly peck on the cheek - and it naturally decided to land on Hawks.

"You don't look so pleased~" Hawks teased, leaning back against his hands while his wings stretched out behind him.

"Oh whatever Wings," you muttered, getting to your feet to approach him. His golden eyes watched you, head cocked to the side - you could have sworn you saw him give you the once over, eyes widening in appreciation, softening when they returned to your face.

As Nemuri had done with you, you intended to give Hawks a friendly kiss on the cheek - naturally, of course, because you were not school children doing everything in their power to get a kiss from their crush - but he had other plans. You lips barely brushed his smooth cheek before you felt his mouth on yours, head tilted ever so much. The little lap of his tongue made you squeak, your whole body falling to one side.

Hawks caught you with one arm, chuckling that soon turned into laughter when you berated him, cheeks burning with a deep blush.

"Easy, kid, easy~" he chuckled again amidst whooping and jeering from onlookers, and - well, you supposed you could let it pass this time.

But only because he looked genuinely happy, for once in the short amount time that you knew him.

(Twister with Asra.)

"Left hand on red, Asra."

You couldn't stop yourself from giggling, because there was no way Asra was going to be able to put his left hand on red. That would require him to twist his body around and duck under you, because you had both right foot and hand on yellow, and left foot and hand on blue.

Nadia was blocking the path closest to your legs, and Asra already had one foot on green, and one foot on yellow - and in his vast wisdom, he had somehow decided that the best course of action when he started was to stand with his back to you.

"See, if my dear apprentice would simply lower herself--"

"I will do no such thing, dear mentor," you interrupted cheekily, looking up at him as best you could, grinning at the shared mischief dancing in his eyes, "you may figure it out."

"Chop chop Asra! Time's a wasting~" Julian sang, clapping his hands together for emphasis, "before I consider you out!"

"Alright," Asra stretched his arms high above his head, rolled his shoulders, and from that impossible angle, dropped into an off-balance bridge. He walked his hands along the white, avoiding any color, and you promptly found yourself face to face with him as he held his weight up with his left hand on red.

"Hello love," he murmured while Julian spun the dial for the next color. Nadia shuffled behind you, assumedly putting her right hand on blue.

"Hello," you stammered back, wishing that he had not chosen this course of action - and then, appreciating that he had chosen this course of action as he very easily pushed himself up just enough that his soft lips brushed over yours.

"For putting up with me, always," he whispered into your mouth.

"Darling apprentice, please you may move right foot to red!"

"I would have it no other way - but I am going to fall," you informed Asra. Shock morphed his soft expression as you slipped to the side, almost hitting him on your way down.

#Asra #The Arcana Game #Hawks #Keigo Takami #asra x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #THERE YOU GO KAT I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! #I have no idea if Twister would even EXIST in Arcana but #but I needed it

[ask-team-misfit]

(@asktheoger) "Heyo there!" Julian, the Diancie, approaches Lief. "Just thought I'd come over to say I love the bows n' stuff- looks very very nice." He made the okay symbol with a hand. Upon seeing the fusion's snacks, his eyes light up. "Oh, sweet! You have food- um, can you help a fellow gamer out and point me in the direction of the snack table? I've looked all over, but man, I haven't been able to find it yet."

[ @asktheoger ]

Always one to appreciate a compliment about his looks, he couldn't help but smile.

The positive greeting overall also made it easy to hide the fact he was somewhat caught off guard that a humanoid approached him directly, rather than the other way around; namely due to his earlier comments.

Lief: "Finally, someone with good taste! Why thank you~."

Granted, he couldn't help but use that to flaunt himself further.

[ ID: A grayscale drawing of Lief, a hybrid of Sylveon and Ribombee, with a mono-color background. He is shown from the neck up, with his face slightly angled away from the viewer towards the left. He looks particularly carefree or playful. He's winking with his right eye and smirking somewhat. A light blush, depicted in color, is present on his cheeks. A paw is raised to his face, even. End ID ]

Lief: "The scarf is perfect, isn't it? Couldn't imagine me without it, I'll bet. Truly the greatest."

[ ID: A grayscale drawing of Lief similar to the previous image, but with a different expression. He looks fairly casual, or otherwise relaxed. A cheeky smile, reminiscent of the ":3" emoticon, is present on his face. End ID ]

Lief: "And what a coincidence you came along asking for snacks. I was just about to mosey along to the snack bar myself. Saw some goodies on the table nearby that I feel like sneaking a bite or few into. I can point you in the direction of it."

At this point, he'd finish eating the berry he'd been snacking on all this time. Now that he mentioned it, he looked somewhat antsy at the idea of trying other foods.

That and the idea he had to see how much he could get away with stashing to take home.

Event Ask Hints have been updated.

#answered #asktheoger #LoUsleepover #Lief Simbobeon #Julian Diancie #pokemon #pokemon ask #pokemon ask blog #pokemon askblog #pokeask #pokeaskblog #pokeask blog #ask blog #other's art

[youngpettyqueen]

have you considered for a fic: julian being held in somebodys arms

anon I could kiss you because Julian being carried in somebody's arms is something that lives in my head rent free always and in fact there's been a scenario in my head for a hot minute and this is the perfect excuse to force myself to write it

Jadzia picks her way through some bushes, eyes on her tricorder as she continues her environmental scans. So far the planet appears to be very similar to Earth, with a comparable atmosphere, and even similar biomes. This forest they've beamed down to is very Earth-like, except that there are some much bigger trees, and several of the plants appear to be bioluminescent.

"Fascinating..." She murmurs to herself, pausing to read through the data. This atmosphere would definitely support the lives of several different humanoid species, if the Federation decided to place a colony here. Considering this planet appears uninhabited except for animals and other such creatures, she wouldn't be-

Footsteps crack somewhere nearby. Jadzia looks up. She can hear the faint murmur of voices, too far away to make out properly, but it's definitely voices. Curious, she starts to move in the direction of the conversation, focusing to try and hear what's being said.

"-ridiculous."

"-arguing is-"

She only catches a few words, but it sounds heated. Now she's really curious. She keeps moving.

"-going to see!"

"Your point?"

That second voice- that's definitely Worf. She would recognize that aggravated tone anywhere. But that first voice-

"It's embarrassing!"

Wait.

"Seriously, Commander, put me down!"

Is that...?

Jadzia comes around the trunk of one of the more massive trees, and stumbles upon a sight she's going to remember for a long, long time.

Worf and Julian both snap to look at her at the exact same time. Worf's expression doesn't change except for his eyes widening a touch, but Julian, who is sitting pretty in Worf's arms like a princess, turns bright red faster than she can blink.

Jadzia stops. Stares. Processes.

And then she grins.

"Boys," She greets, her tone saturated with amusement, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"You're not," Julian says, very firmly, looking like he would rather be anywhere else than here, "Maybe you can talk some sense into him, Jadzia. Tell him I don't need to be carried like a bloody damsel in distress." He gives Worf a pointed look.

Worf ignores his look, and turns an exasperated one of his own to Jadzia. "Perhaps you could tell Doctor Bashir to stop being so stubborn, and accept help when it is offered." He suggests, which earns him an outraged look from Julian.

Jadzia bites her cheek to keep from laughing. "Hold it, gentlemen," She says, raising a hand to quiet them both, "You can't ask me to take sides when I don't have the full story. Julian," She looks at him, "What happened?"

Julian looks less than thrilled at the question. "Must I?" He asks in return.

Jadzia barely keeps her grin from growing because oh, that means this is going to be good. "You must." She smirks.

"Fine," Julian sighs, looking none-too-pleased about it, "I had a little... mishap, while I was exploring. Banged my knee up a bit. And Worf here decided the best course of action was to scoop me up-"

"Like a damsel in distress." Jadzia puts in, just to be cheeky.

Julian gives her a flat look. "...Like a damsel in distress," He mutters, "And carry me. Which, let me be clear, is entirely unnecessary, and I really wish he would put me down." He hisses the last bit at Worf, who just raises an unimpressed brow at him.

Jadzia nods, putting on her best act that this is all very serious. "I see," She looks to Worf, "Your side of the story, Commander?" She invites.

Worf continues giving Julian an annoyed look, before he turns his attention to Jadzia. "Gladly," He says, "I heard a commotion and followed it to the source, and found Doctor Bashir at the bottom of an incline. His leg is injured, so I thought it best to take the most efficient course of action, and carry him back to the runabout." He explains.

Jadzia cannot hide the amused smirk that forces itself to be known on her face as she looks back at Julian. "You fell down a hill." She doesn't need to ask- she knows.

Julian doesn't look at her. "I fell down a hill."

"And you could not walk," Worf interjects, glowering, "Hence why I am carrying you."

"I could've limped!" Julian exclaims, "A shoulder to lean on would've been fine! Would you please just put me down?" He asks.

"No," Worf replies, resolute, "I will not risk you aggravating your injury for the sake of pride."

"You're a bloody hypocrite." Julian accuses.

"I dunno, Julian," Jadzia re-enters the conversation, a sly grin on her face, "I think I'm with Worf on this one."

Julian gives her a look of complete and utter betrayal. "I thought we were friends." He says, like she's just stabbed him.

"Of course we're friends," Jadzia says, "That's exactly why I'm with Worf. You shouldn't be walking on that leg. Besides," She gives him a knowing look, "I know a thing or two about being in those arms, and who am I to deny you the experience?" She asks.

Julian looks like he wants to sink into the ground and never emerge. Worf gives her a warning look. "Jadzia..." He says, in that warning tone of his.

Unfortunately for him, all that tone ever does is egg her on. "What?" She asks, batting her lashes innocently, "I'm just saying. You two look awfully cozy." She teases.

"We are not!" Julian and Worf say in haunting unison, though Julian's is more of a squeak and Worf's is more of a growl.

Jadzia throws her hands up placatingly. "Hey, hey, like I said. I'm just saying. It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to," She flashes them a mischievous grin, "But if it did, you know... I wouldn't be opposed to it." She winks playfully.

"Worf, I've decided I'm alright with being carried," Julian declares suddenly, now a truly impressive shade of red, "Please take me to the runabout and away from this." He implores him.

"For once, Doctor, we agree," Worf nods, "I, too, am done with this conversation." With that, he turns away from Jadzia and resumes walking.

Jadzia's grin is out in full force. "I like it when he carries me, too!" She calls after them.

"I don't like this!" Julian calls back.

Jadzia chuckles to herself. "Liar." She accuses, though not loud enough for either of them to hear her. She watches them disappear into the foliage, satisfied enough with her teasing that she doesn't pursue them. Left alone again, she resumes her scanning, the smile never leaving her face as she gets back to work.

She is never letting either of them live that down.

#fic bitching #star trek: ds9 #jadzia dax #julian bashir #worf #hi welcome to my Julian/Jadzia/Worf agenda #which is about Jadzia trying to set Worf and Julian up #I was torn between a couple of ideas tbh but I decided to go with this one because the Worf and Julian dynamic is criminally under explored #other idea was Kira carrying Julian around purely to fuck with him #because their dynamic is also criminally under explored #but I went with this one because I did rewatch Trials and Tribble-ations recently so #Worf and Julian on the brain #and of course. Jadzia is fun to write #hope you enjoyed anon!! I quite enjoyed writing it #I feel like im FINALLY out of this writing block ive been in #thank god #I was starting to go crazy

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

A disturbed slumber

A little short story about the lives of Lance and my OC Farmer Julian, because I'm craving fluff 💕

_________________________________________

"Morning, sleepyhead, wake uuuup."

"Mmmm... Five more minutes..."

Julian sighed softly and kept looking at Lance: no matter how much he tried to pretend he was pouting, the sight of his beautiful, sleepy husband made his eyes soften and his heart melt.

Young farmer turned to the nightstand beside the bed: the dial showed seven in the morning. It didn't look like morning from the window, though, for winter days were short, and now it was the middle of the cold season.

The whole farm was covered with a white, fluffy blanket, the snowdrifts reaching down to his knees, no less. Julian got up from the warm bed, which beckoned to stay warm longer, and decided to open the window, letting the frozen fresh air into the room. Brrr! Even though it was cold, the freshness of the morning was always invigorating. Lance, who was still in bed, didn't appreciate the breeze, and, muttering something, wrapped himself more tightly in the blanket. Julian burst out laughing.

"You sure are spoiled", Julian said softly, quietly, with a smile on his face.

Life on Gildergreen Farm, as in the whole of the Stardew Valley, has come to a standstill. Plots of fertile land were covered with snow; chickens, cows, goats, and other animals slept in warm barns and coops, well-fed, well-groomed, and happy, so that there was no need to worry about them in the morning. The pumpkin growing in the greenhouse for the upcoming Winter Star (because what's a holiday without pumpkin pie!) was still ripening and didn't need urgent attention either.

Even their dog Orion, a faithful four-legged friend and comrade, also lay near the warm radiator, seeing dog dreams about treats and steak. Next to him, snoring softly was the black cat Julian and Lance had named Midnight. A homeless creature that they found (well, "found"- a fluffy black fur ball came to them on the threshold of the house and meowed until they took it under their roof).

Everything was in deep sleep, and only the young farmer had gotten up at such an early hour out of habit, what an outrage! He even tries to make his favorite person wake up - a real crime, no other way! He kinda wanted so much to get into a warm and comfortable bed again, to embrace his adored husband, to feel the warmth of his beloved man.

But instead, Julian, because of his playfulness, decided to do some teasing.

He came back to the bed, sat on the edge where Lance was sleeping, slowly pulled the blanket off him, and leaned closer to kiss his neck, his cheek, his ear. Lance muffled mooing at the touch of warm lips on his sensitive skin, fidgeting with the sheet, drowsiness making him unable to realize whether he was pulling away from the kisses or exposing his neck to make Julian more comfortable.

"Hmnng... Julian..."

"Time to get up, my dear. The nobles sleep until noon, but true warriors and adventurers wake at first light", Julian, without remorse and with a cheeky grin, continued to leave wet paths on his half-asleep husband's skin.

Eventually, even Lance's patience came to an end, and when he finally opened his eyes, he grabbed Julian's arm, and with one tug, fell the young man over himself onto the bed. Julian realized with a gasp of surprise that in an instant he was already lying with his back on the soft mattress, his hands intercepted by one of Lance's arms. Lance sat down on his hips and looked up at Julian with a slightly angry look. Julian couldn't help but notice how adorably disheveled Lance's hair was, a little crumpled and uncombed.

In seconds, the sullen expression of a man whose sleep had been shamelessly disturbed was replaced by a sly smile that young farmer didn't like. With his free hand, the pink-haired adventurer pulled up Julian's night shirt and touched his belly, causing Julian to jump and yelp.

The realization came too late.

"Oh, no no no... Lance, no, don't-"

Quickly running his fingers over and over, Lance tickled the most sensitive place on Julian's body, listening with delight as his husband shrieked and laughed, trying to free himself from his grip.

Orion was also awake from the noises and was watching them with interest, tail wagging. Midnight, having noticed the source of the noise, looked on indifferently, yawned and went back to sleep.

Julian kicked and jerked his legs helplessly, unable to throw his tormentor husband off his hips.

"Lance, please! Hahaha! Mercy! Mercy!"

Julian pleaded, still giggling and laughing, and Lance stopped only when he saw tears welling up in his husband's multicolored eyes.

"You're awful", Julian said dramatically, trying to catch his breath.

"Says the man who woke me up this early", Lance watched victoriously how Julian's chest rise and fall. He then gently cupped Julian's chin and kissed him on the lips.

"Stay in bed with me a little longer, my love. It's not often we get a chance to snuggle in bed like that"

Julian wanted to pout some more, but Lance's raised hands in a threat to tickle made Julian realize his fight was lost.

"Fine", feigning displeasure, Julian opened his arms wider, sinking into Lance's arms and feeling him cover both of them with a fluffy blanket. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

Everything fell back into deep slumber again.

#sve #stardew valley expanded #sve lance #farmer julian #just some fluff because fuck angst #i want them being dorks and lovely birds

[mageofspacemultiverse]

Character Profile - Devaron Raliak

*DISCLAIMER - This character has some severe symptoms of trauma. If sending in an ask, please do not mention or offer Cake to Devaron due to it being a trigger. Thank you! :)*

Name: Devaron 'Dev' Raliak

Blood: Maroon {Mutant}

Age: 9 sweeps

Strife Specibus: Staffkind

Physical Appearance: 1.63 metres tall, rectangular body type with narrow shoulders + hips, underweight but not lanky and very light muscle. His skin and hands are mildly-calloused, and his left arm has issues with stiffness due to his lifestyle requiring some physical strain. The skin around his left eye is entirely scarred from his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek.

Hair is a mess of spiky raven points ending halfway down his neck, bangs being cut short in the front. Dev's usual attire consists of a black tee sporting the (V)ulpecula sign beneath a teal vest, a pair of worn, tattered auburn pants, and burgundy shoes with rubber violet soles.

Personality Type/Alignment: The Isolated {Lawful Neutral}

Devaron's easily alienated and cripplingly introverted, which makes building strong social bonds difficult. While not fully prescribing to nihilism, he's oft to project an attitude outwards to others that 'he doesn't matter, life is rigged from the start' as a defensive front to avoid confrontation and in stark contrast to when he was younger and boasted a more prideful and unapologetic side to his personality. Still, he's definitely prone to get grumpy as well due to chronic insomnia

He's got a very big inferiority complex due to his status on the hemospectrum, his lack of close interactions, and other physical attributes like his height, scar, lisp, etc. He's difficult to trust, but not one to come to blows; more than likely, upsetting him will make him retreat from the conversation, or quite literally leave the situation. Dev's also had his fair share of traumatic events at an early age and suffers from symptoms related to that.

Despite these prickly bits to his character, when in the comfort of trusted trolls he's a massive geek.

Devaron has a special relationship with brewing tea. He never developed typical burgundy psionics, but through practice and patience he's managed to use his memory and his passion for tea-making in concert to store memories using tea, not unlike the making of a memory palace. When Dev first meets a troll, he likes to brew a cup of tea to remember them by and that memory becomes engraved in his mind.

Look for a troll who's skittish, easily flustered, hopelessly sentimental and discovering how to properly express his emotions, and Dev is likely to fill that box.

Likes: Nagashell Zeta (his favourite cartoon growing up), Fiduspawn, roleplay, chess, mysteries (both escape rooms and detective novels) and playing the recorder.

Dislikes: W.I.P

Relationships:

Ashter Faurux (@memurfevur): Dev's ex-matesprit. Meeting on a small-community forum when they were much younger, Dev was drawn in at first by Ashter's combination of spunk and vulnerability, quickly becoming infatuated with the other troll, especially after Ashter began to confess some feelings in return. Despite the short-term happiness the two had, however, Dev's possessiveness and Ashter's past began to put a wedge between the two. Eventually, Ashter broke up with Dev and left in a flurry, leaving the Rust to dismay and unrequited pain. Since then, the two have not talked at all, though Dev still keeps Ashter's number on his phone just in case the Pyrite were to ever text in need of help. Dev's harshly bitter of that event in his childhood.

Julian Zealis (@memurfevur): Dev's current red crush/matesprit. A cheeky optimist fixated on making everything happy meets a lonely pessimist who is amazed by the simplest acts of kindness that Julian doles out to him. Their shared experience in being at the bottom of the caste system, along with being mutual nerds brought them to trust one another very quick, even despite Dev's tentative trust and chronic relationship issues. They help each other's traumas and wrestle each other's insecurity away. Despite his general timidness, Julian makes Dev feel like few trolls have before - that he won't be left alone, that there's a shoulder to cry on, and that's unmistakably beautiful to him. They're just...they're cute, your honor. [Ship Name: Dreadnought]

Adrian Uyilst (@memurfevur): Dev's moirail. Brought in as a result of another friend-group, the two became immediate nerd-friends due to their shared interests and bonded closer as a result of their experiences. When smushed together, they become a lethal prankster duo and rivals pushing one another to be the best version of one another. In their youth, they tried for matespritship; however, it did not work out and left sore wounds for both. Despite the misgivings, they stayed in contact and slowly repaired the damage even after Adrian began going to university. Eventually, the two admitted to one another about their feelings again, and claimed a diamond quadrant with one another. [Ship Name: Lavender Tea]

Hadesa Lankro (@memurfevur): Meeting on terms that were less than sweet, Dev's jealousy coloured his opinions of Hadesa in his early years, even going as so far as to suggesting that she take her own life out of protectiveness over his ex-mate, Ashter. Though the icy-cold pool of their interactions may slowly be warming, they are clearly still a long ways away from friendship.

[This profile will be updated with further development of interactions.]

#mageofspacemultiverse #devaron raliak #devaron #character bio #homestuck rp

[meremoments2]

@okodenㅤㅤcont.

𝘐𝘚𝘓𝘈 𝘗𝘐𝘊𝘒𝘌𝘋 𝘈𝘛 𝘏𝘌𝘙 𝘗𝘖𝘗𝘊𝘖𝘙𝘕 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘠 𝘊𝘖𝘙𝘕 𝘉𝘐𝘛𝘚 ㅤㅤalmost bored while she watched the opening credits for whatever "scary" movie Julian had selected. Of course he would pick something like ㅤIT FOLLOWSㅤ for their scary movie-a-thon. What could be more terrifying to a rockstar than a ghost who followed you around to kill you all because you had sex? Isla didn't really find it all that scary, but then again, she also wasn't one to sleep with strangers at parties or after concerts.. or at all.

Isla glanced in Julian's direction as he made light conversation. She wondered if he was mentioning that little tidbit as a means of comforting her or himself. The popcorn slipped between her lips and she chewed slowly, eyes lazily moving back to the movie as she deadpanned,ㅤ " 𝘖𝘙 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘊𝘖𝘜𝘓𝘋 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘚𝘓𝘌𝘌𝘗 𝘈𝘙𝘖𝘜𝘕𝘋 𝘉𝘜𝘛 𝘐'𝘔 𝘎𝘓𝘈𝘋 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘏𝘈𝘝𝘌 𝘈 𝘉𝘈𝘊𝘒𝘜𝘗 𝘗𝘓𝘈𝘕 " ㅤThere was the softest lilt to her voice that she hoped would express the amusement she felt at the conversation. A ghostly little smile tugging at one corner of her lips as she worked the last of her candy corn additions to her popcorn. ㅤ" 𝘓𝘌𝘈𝘝𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘊𝘖𝘜𝘕𝘛𝘙𝘠 𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘚 𝘈 𝘓𝘖𝘛 𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘐𝘌𝘙 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘕 𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 𝘒𝘌𝘌𝘗𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘗𝘈𝘕𝘛𝘚 𝘖𝘕 "ㅤ Isla couldn't hide the cheeky grin after that a breathy little laugh gasped through her nose as she tried to fight it but her eyes were sparkling and her dimples deepening as she triedㅤ ( and failed ) ㅤto hide her grin from her friend.

#okoden . #𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 ·˚‧₊˚ julian .

[lem0nshark-writes]

"Leather & Lace"

Julian Devorak x Male Reader

Word count: 1386

Summary: Nadia is holding a masquerade at the palace and on it you run into the rather spicy doctor.

Warnings: smut just pure smut, lingerie, kinky stuff, possibly ooc, reader's a bottom

You felt yourself being slammed against the wall as his lips devoured your neck, his tongue so slick against your skin.

He held you by your sides as his kisses made their way to you jaw and his hands to your clothes, removing them piece by piece.

"Ahh Julian-", you moaned out.

"Yes, my love?" his cheeky smirk spreading across his face, causing your already flushed cheeks to turn darker.

"We- We need to stop, somebody will hear us.." you were blushing like mad, avoiding his gaze at all costs.

"Don't worry darling, they are all too busy partying down there, we're all by ourselves on this floor." he replied reassuringly as his fingers ran through your hair.

"If you say so", you made short eye contact before quickly looking away, blush still vivid on your cheeks.

He smirked again and then picked you up, carrying you to the bed and gently placing you onto luxurious sheets that were spread over the bed.

He hovered above you with a mischievous look upon his face, taking in your image, before his eyes caught something under your shirt. You watched him as he lifted your shirt up and his eyes widened.

"Lingerie?" he was having a hard time holding in his smirk.

You blushed, just now remembering that you put that on this morning.

"Wow you prepared for me!" his smirk was now pretty evident on his face, his finger tracing against the lace of the red panties that hugged your hips so elegantly yet sexily.

"S-Shut up!", you slapped his hand off being super embarrassed.

"Hey, don't be like that," he got closer to you, leaving kisses over your cheeks and neck, "I'm honored."

You looked up at him, with an still embarrassed expression and he returned with a warm smile.

He then unbuttoned your shirt and slid it off before stripping himself, his eyes once again trailing off to your underwear.

Blush returned to your cheeks as you watched him spread your legs gently and start to leave kisses across your inner thighs.

He looked up at you, taking in your image once more before speaking, "Damn you look so good Y/N.."

His face then got closer to your clothed bulge before leaving a soft kiss on top of it, sending waves of electricity rushing through your whole body.

He realized it was getting your member really excited so he left a few more before your shaft was standing up completely straight and he smirked down at it with pride.

"S-Stop teasing me-", you moaned out, face as red as a ripe tomato.

He smirked up at you, "And why would I do that when you look so cute while squirming under my touch?"

You pouted and squeezed his head with you thighs, catching him by surprise.

"Okay okay, don't smother me with you thighs!" he chuckled and spread your legs once again, kissing your pouty lips playfully, and he freed your shaft of the panties, though he kept them on, liking the way they look on you.

You felt his lips on the tip of your member before they slid right down, making you moan out in pleasure. He started moving his lips up and down your length, tongue swirling and twisting around it as he slowly got all of you in his mouth.

You felt him suck and lick along your dick and he devoted a lot of time to the rim of it, his tongue finding it's way to the slit as well, driving you to the edge every single time, but just as you were about to release he'd pull away, not granting you that sweet relief.

You groaned out, bucking your hips up slightly, wanting to finally cum and he smirked at you, slapping your hand away when you reached out to jerk yourself off.

"No-no, hands off sweetie." he smirked down at your desperate glare.

His hands traveled to your thighs as he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing his wet-with-lube tip against your hole and he looked up at your blushing mess of a face.

"Ready my love?" he asked as he rubbed your outer thigh with his hand gently.

You nodded and he slowly started pushing in, biting his lip because of how tight you were.

You whined out, pain washing over you, and you hid your face in your hands.

He reached out and moved them away, placing kisses all over your cheeks as he stopped moving inside of you, "Shhhh sweetie, it'll pass..", he spoke softly, trying to get you to relax and focus on him instead of the pain.

You nodded but kept looking away and he left more kisses across your skin and soon enough the pain was overpowered by pleasure and you moved your hips, testing it out and letting him know he can continue moving.

So he did and when he was all the way inside of you he stopped once again, letting you adjust to him and letting the pain pass.

When you gave him a signal that he can move again, he started off slowly, pushing in and out, but soon enough he started speeding up.

It was little to say you were in heaven. You were a moaning mess underneath him, crying and moaning his name over and over again. It felt so good to you, and so did to him.

His thrusts became stronger and he held you by your hips as his eyes travelled to your face, his hair sticking to his cheeks and forehead from sweat.

He leaned down to you, starting to kiss your neck and chest as his hand crept to your lower back, holding you up in the air as he kept on fucking you.

When he leaned down you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips, bringing him even closer to yourself and you tilted your head to one side, giving him room for more neck kisses which he gladly gave.

"A-Ahhhhh Juliann…mhhhh…" he loved the sounds that were coming out of you without your will and he slapped your ass and gave it a squeeze, making you moan out louder.

"Like that?" he smirked and repeated the action, causing yet another loud moan to escape your lips.

"Fuckk do I love your moans Y/N," he smirked and started thrusting in deeper with more force, hitting your prostate and making your eyes widen and toes curl in immense pleasure he was causing you.

"Ohhh God Julian right t-there!!" you moaned out loudly, gripping onto his back, gently digging your nails into it.

"Hit the sweet spot now didn't I?" he smirked and started pounding that exact spot over and over again.

With so much pleasure coursing through you, you couldn't hold it in any longer, releasing all over both yours and his stomach with a loud moan.

He let out a low moan too on you growing tighter around him and with a few more thrusts he came as well, spilling his warm cum deep inside of you.

Both of you were panting from exhaustion, you more than him, and he pulled out of you, placing a warm and passionate kiss over your lips before collapsing beside you and pulling you into a hug.

"I love you Y/N," he smiled at you and placed another kiss but this time onto your forehead.

"I love you too Julian," you spoke through quick breaths and snuggled in into his embrace, both of you falling asleep shortly after.

BONUS:

The next morning, you two woke up sprawled across the bed realizing you're still in the palace.

You looked at each other with wide eyes and quickly jumped off the bed, putting on your clothes quite sloppily and then sneaking out to the nearest balcony.

Julian started going down and held his hand out to you, waiting for you to join him, and just as you were to cross the fence of the balcony two of the royal guards along with Nadia stepped onto the balcony, catching you two red-handed.

She seized you both up and down, small smirk curling up the corner of her lips, "Seems you two had loads of fun on the masquerade last night huh?"

#julian devorak #the arcana #arcana #male reader #male reader smut #x male reader #male reader insert #julian devorak x male reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #julian devorak x reader #julian devorak x mc #julian devorak x apprentice #smut #fanfic #the arcana fanfic #the arcana game #julian devorak fanfiction

[ofhouseadama]

For the fic ask:

That thing on your desk--remind me what it's called?

"That thing on your desk--remind me what it's called?" Julian asks. If he was less sleepy, his tone would do more than just verge on being sardonic.

But instead, it's close to four in the morning, and it's the second night in a row he's found his husband not lying in bed next to him but instead down the hall in his study. He knows how tired Garak must be as well, if he was able to linger in the doorway for a full minute before he sensed his presence.

"Our... children?" Garak asks, eyes squinting in exhaustion at the framed holoimage of their family.

Our children. Never the girls or the kids. Sometimes our daughters, usually with one of the honorifics that Cardassians like to attach to their young--a good Cardassian daughter is always highly-favored or most honorable or noted for her service to her family. If she's cheeky or brash or independent she might be a little mistress. If she's one of their daughters, she's more likely to respond to madam or one of the ladies of the house.

"Yes, our children," Julian says, rounding the large, stately desk to wrap himself around Garak's shoulders.

It's an older portrait, taken not long after Lunara came to them. There are newer ones, hanging in other rooms in the house. But this was the first family portrait of the five of them. In it, four year old Sibel stands patiently next to a seated Julian, wearing the same solemn expression she's worn since Julian first met her, a medically fragile, nameless, half-human half-Cardassian foundling in the neonatal ward. In Julian's lap is a squirming Lunara, maybe two years old--the daughter they discovered wandering alone in the street during an outbreak of a novel influenza virus. They'd gotten as far as the front stoop of the overwhelmed children's home before finding themselves unable to leave her there. Garak, standing behind Julian, has an eight month old Alyona in his arms. In the holoimage she's drowsy, half-awake, occasionally waving at the camera before burrowing her face into her Papa's jacket.

"They will be fine if you have to shut yourself in here while they're awake," Julian says, pressing a kiss to Garak's temple. "Their father deserves to sleep if he's going to keep trying to singlehandedly negotiate, author, and champion the Cardassian Bill of Rights."

"I'm not trying to do it singlehandedly," Garak protests.

Julian is aware that objectively, there are many other dedicated members of the party who are also working towards passing the Bill of Rights. He is not entirely certain that his husband trusts them enough to rely on their efforts.

"Hmm..."

With a sigh, Garak allows himself to slump backwards into Julian's embrace. "I am simply trying to ensure that the Cardassia we leave behind for them is the best Cardassia we can promise."

"And on such little sleep. How many nights in a row has it been now?"

"You only know of two."

"Yes, but I know it's been more," Julian says. Spread out in front of him, on Garak's desk, are at least a few dozen pieces of paper containing multiple drafts of the legislation. The margins are packed with notes written in Garak's dense, cramped script. "You've been tired for weeks, Elim."

"My dear, I've been tired for the last fifty years," he says with a dry laugh.

But Julian's unwilling to allow Garak to evade and equivocate at this small hour. Not when he needs another two hours of decent sleep before he reports for his shift at the hospital. Instead, he must be one of Garak's least favorite things--direct.

"It won't hurt them if they learn a little something of governance and duty to the State at your knee. You're not Tain," he reminds him lowly.

"I see we're not even attempting subtlety tonight."

Julian kisses him again. "I have surgery in three hours, I can't afford it."

Silent for a long moment, Garak allows the fingers on one hand to trail up and down Julian's arm where it rests on his chest while he assembles his thoughts. "You will be shocked to hear that the worst of it I didn't learn at Tain's knee. He wasn't on the planet very often, when I was Sibel's age. But... yes, there weren't many pleasant experiences associated with being summoned to Tain's study, when I was a child."

"Many?" Julian asks, voice flat.

"None." Garak snorts, turning his head to allow himself a moment to nuzzle in Julian's warmth. "For the most part, Mila did what she could to keep me out of the big house when Tain was home. All attention was negative attention, until I proved myself to be a useful asset. And by that time I was no longer a child."

Physically or emotionally, Julian wants to ask. But he knows better by now than to ask Garak for more information than he's willing to give when it comes to his parents. Close to seven years married and eight years together, and he's still not sure whether Mila was his biological mother or the woman who Tain handed Garak off to after he was born.

In the end, those kinds of details don't matter.

Garak only has a vested interest in recent truths, and Julian won't quibble with that. Even in death, Tain casts a long shadow. He knows his husband is doing his best to step out of it, for himself, for his family, and for Cardassia.

"You're not going to solve the Union's problems overnight," Julian says, pressing their foreheads together. "No matter how many nights you slip out of bed after I fall asleep and try it."

Garak frowns, petulant. "I might. You don't know."

"Elim."

"Julian."

Sighing dramatically, Julian unfolds himself from Garak's embrace. Taking a step backwards, he holds out his hand. "Come back to bed. Get a few more hours of sleep before the girls have more energy than you know what to do with, because I won't be around to help get anyone ready for school today."

Not with a scheduled pediatric open-heart aortic valve replacement at 0700 hours.

"Fine," Garak grumbles. "Fine, I'm getting up."

Waving off Julian's hand, he extracts himself from his desk chair, wincing as the tendons in his neck and back and knees protest. Lifting a single eyebrow, Julian offers his hand again. This time, Garak takes it. Quietly, they make their way down the hallway back to their bedroom. Julian says nothing as Garak stops and checks on each of their daughters in their bedrooms, satisfying himself with the depth and sounds of their breathing before progressing onto the next.

"They already know you helped write the Constitution," Julian whispers, once Garak returns to the hallway from tucking Alyona back in under her blankets. "They won't be shocked to learn that you continue to create a fair and equitable new form of government that represents billions of people, and that it takes a lot of hard work to do so."

Garak gives him an expression that took Julian many years to understand. His husband thrives on praise, but it's a recent phenomena that it is given to him without the silent, underwritten threat that should he stop pleasing the praise-giver, then his life may be forfeit. Garak trusts nothing that calls itself unconditional, except death and taxes.

That's fine. Julian doesn't mind spending the rest of his life in the pursuit of making Elim understand that there's very little he could do that he wouldn't forgive him for.

"Flatterer," Garak eventually says.

Rolling his eyes, Julian opens the door to their bedroom with a theatrical flourish, waving Garak inside. "Historically, it's been a successful method for getting you into bed with me."

"Oh, is that so?"

A few minutes later they're both fast asleep.

#ask #anonymous #garashir #anyway I'm bad at following prompt rules #this was only supposed to be five sentences #but I am not someone who can do brevity #otp: there's hope for you yet #emily watches ds9 #fic

[samstree]

splash of the waves, and the sand castle crumbles (1/?)

Geraskier, Prince!Jaskier, fairy tale elements but with a twist, fluff and angst, 6.9k, rated T

Read on AO3

Geralt finds himself drawn to the prince despite himself. As he and Jaskier grow closer, war also looms on the horizon. It's the stuff of fairy tales, but can a witcher find his happily ever after in the time of heartbreaks and deaths?

“Ma?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened next?”

“The farm girl became a princess and married the prince. They lived happily ever after,” she smiled, her eyes so warm in the candlelight.

“But what next?”

“Happily ever after, sweetie. It means there will only be happiness for the rest of their lives.”

She places a kiss on the top of his head and blows out the candle. Her hands are soft and gentle when she tucks him in.

“Ma?”

“Yes?”

“Will we live happily ever after?”

She pauses in the darkness.

“Of course, my darling. Now you need to close your eyes—”

“Like the prince and the girl?”

“Even better.”

“But she married the prince. How can it be better?”

She sighs. The warmth of her palm brushes across his forehead, making his eyelids droop heavily.

“Your future holds much more, my sweet boy. You will find out tomorrow when you wake up.”

Sleep overcomes him. Indeed, he dreams of fairy tales and royal balls, magic spells and grand weddings.

The next morning, he wakes up believing in those happy ever afters.

*

Sometimes, when stones are thrown and pitchforks raised, Geralt regrets ever doing so.

*

The crown prince of Aedirn is a beautiful thing.

His pale blue doublet shines under the bright morning sun, the silvery embroidery sparkling in the light. A big smile —that ever-so-friendly smile that Prince Julian is known for— spreads across his face as a man with blond hair riding next to him speaks. Windswept brown hair brushes over his eyes, obscuring his youthful features.

Everything about him screams royalty. Privilege.

Even his horse is the most nicely-groomed white stallion Geralt has ever laid eyes on.

Prince Charming needs the whole get-up. The witcher snorts behind the bush, observing the royal convoy. It’s too small and moving way too slowly. They must have let down their guard because of the proximity to the castle. If Geralt were to assassinate a royal, he would choose to do it here as well.

It doesn’t take long for the first one to approach from the side of the road, hiding behind the shrub just like Geralt. The man in black works silently and quickly, but not as quickly as a witcher.

Geralt strangles him from behind, gripping tightly until the man passes out. A crossbow falls to the ground. The convoy travels ahead, unaware of the witcher disposing of a deadly threat to their prince’s life.

The swoosh of an arrow pierces the air.

“Protect the prince!”

Two dozen assassins in the same black suit appear out of thin air, charging into the royal guards’ formation. In an instant, the heap of pale-blue is tackled to the ground. Swords clash as more men start yelling.

“Fuck.”

Dodging a stray arrow, the witcher rushes into the chaos. The small convoy being overwhelmed by the incoming force, they hardly notice one of the assassins circling around the battle and moving directly to the prince. With a few long strides, Geralt stops the man with a clean strike.

“What—” the prince scrambles back at the sight of blood, looking at the witcher’s towering form with disbelief.

“You need to come with me,” Geralt says, before hauling him up by the collar of his doublet.

*

He half drags the prince to the hide-out. It’s only a cave where he left Roach earlier, but it should be enough. The young man slumps down against the wall, breathing heavily.

“Why are you—”

“Shh.” The witcher quickly crouches on the ground and presses his palm over the prince’s mouth. Distant footsteps disappear in another direction, before he slowly lets go. “We should be safe for now.”

In the quiet of the cave, he can hear the prince’s pounding heart, his eyes blown wide like a startled deer. Specks of blood smear across his cheeks, making him appear even younger.

“My men?”

“These are hired assassins. They will disperse once you are gone.” Geralt is surprised at how gentle his voice comes out. “Are you all right?”

“I—” the prince swallows, and looks down to his bicep where the flesh is grazed by an arrow. The wound is shallow and slowly seeping blood into the torn fabric. Geralt reckons that it should be fine left alone. “I’m fine. I—I’m…fine, yes. I’m alive.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, both in shock and relief. The prince tries to appear unaffected but the overwhelming panic in his scent betrays his seemingly neutral expression.

“You are lucky it didn’t go through your heart.” The witcher leaves him to check on Roach. Sensing the danger in the air, the mare has stayed quiet this whole time. He pats her mane in thanks. “Didn’t think the prince of Aedirn was this careless.”

“I didn’t think witchers got themselves involved in political squabbles either.” Cornflower blues meet Geralt piercingly, despite his shakiness. “I know who you are,” he chuckles tightly. “The witcher, Geralt of Rivia.”

Geralt grunts.

“I didn’t get involved.”

The prince only gestures to himself, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve saved your ass. Now you can return to your castle and pretend we’ve never met, your highness.”

“Please, call me Jaskier.” The prince stands, patting the blue silk to get off the dirt and wincing when the movement tugs at his arm. “Aren’t you curious as to how I learned about you? Your fame precedes you, witcher.”

The young man meets his gaze assuredly. There’s no trace of fear in his scent.

People usually learn about Geralt one way—his moniker is not something to be escaped. But the prince doesn’t act like everyone else who meets the Butcher. Or at least, he hides it well.

“Are you not scared for your life, prince?”

“It’s Jaskier. And no, I’m not scared by the Butcher, if that’s what you mean.” There’s a knowing glint in his eyes. “I know you from a… mutual acquaintance, let’s say.”

“Oh?”

“Filavandrel mentioned you.”

“The elf king who hides in the mountains?” Geralt frowns. “I never really knew him. Not for more than a day.”

“No? He spoke of a white-haired witcher who was paid to hunt his people. Only that witcher left his own coin purse to them upon finding out about their circumstances. It showed compassion that no human had ever shown them, witcher. From his description, I thought the elven king and you shared a moment that day, or rather, an understanding.”

“Only of men.” He pauses. “Haven’t you come to the same understanding? Or why else would the prince of Aedirn make a target of himself by providing shelter to elven refugees?”

Geralt remembers his encounter with the elf king vividly, his anger and despair. The path took him back to Lower Posada years after that day. His curiosity drove him back to Dol Blathanna, only to find a much larger settlement and an exploding population of elves and other non-humans. Not only that, everyone there spoke of the kindness of the prince, who gave equal status to all sentient creatures on Aedirn soil.

“I see someone did homework on me.”

“People here sing your praises on the street day and night. It seems half the country has fallen in love with you,” Great admits begrudgingly.

“And the other half dislikes that I’m giving land away. Land that could have been providing for humans. The other half of my country believes I’m crazy just like all the other kings and queens in the north.”

The prince steps into Geralt’s space.

“You see, Geralt of Rivia, I cannot change the war that others deem just. I cannot stop the Lioness of Cintra from slaughtering elves and non-humans alike on the other side of the Yaruga. All I have is a piece of land in the Blue Mountains and, perhaps, I can provide them the means to rebuild. Those settlements are only a start.”

“It sounds like a noble cause, prince, but I’m not sure how much you can achieve.”

“Sometimes,” the prince’s attention shifts to Roach. “I wonder the same thing. The continent won’t change overnight just because one kingdom decides to show them a little bit of decency. The same decency that we humans are treated with all along.”

The young prince falls silent, his hand reaching out to touch Roach’s mane but retreats when she snorts anxiously. Geralt shushes the mare with a carrot from the pack.

“And I think, my friend,” the young prince continues. “Despite your claim of neutrality, you are on my side.”

“I’m not your friend.”

“No? But I wish to become yours. After all, you just saved my life so selflessly and gallantly,” he proclaims dramatically. “You should have seen yourself, Geralt. So brave with a sword, like a knight from the stories! If we were in a fairy tale, this is where I offer myself to you in eternal gratitude.”

“Are all princes this cheeky?”

“I don’t know. Are all witchers this heroic and beautiful?” Blue eyes roam up and down the witcher’s body, before meeting his gaze with clear interest.

Geralt grunts, ducking away from direct eye contact with the prince. Suddenly the air in the cave feels too warm. He clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Are you being shy, Geralt the witcher?”

The teasing comes so naturally for the prince. Gods, is that why all the maidens out there are so enamored with him? With those easy smiles and dreamy blue eyes, as soon as he throws in some flirtatious words, any inexperienced country girl would swoon upon meeting with him.

What fools they all are.

“We are not in a fairy tale,” Geralt says, palming his face. “Don’t expect a happy ending from this, my prince.”

“Jaskier,” the prince repeats insistently. “Although I do like the way you call me ‘my prince’. I’d certainly like it more if we were in a… different situation.”

He raises an eyebrow suggestively, and Geralt wonders if he can un-save this ridiculous man’s life.

“Fine then. Jaskier.”

The prince, who insists his name is a flower, smiles smugly for having gotten his way.

“But why?” he then faces Geralt head-on, his voice steady. “Why help me? If you don’t seek the favor of a prince, and the conflict never concerns you?”

Geralt blinks.

He’s not sure what drove him to the decision. The only emotion he had upon hearing about a price on the head of the crown prince was unease. The witcher has seen the war and how all the non-humans were killed with little reason, their corpses a feast for ghouls. The prince of Aedirn made himself an enemy to many realms by taking in all the refugees.

It wouldn’t sit right to let him die.

“I was in Cintra a month ago,” Geralt answers.

Jaskier tilts his head.

“So was I. I went to negotiate the relocation of the defeated elves with Queen Calanthe.” Something dawns on him. “You heard something, didn’t you? Was this assassination ordered by her? The negotiation ended up a complete waste of time, but never have I thought she could resort to such a dishonorable way of killing. No matter how much she must want to get rid of me permanently… Oh, I—I never thought…”

The prince—Jaskier trails off, his face drained of blood.

“I only learned about the bounty on your head,” Geralt explains, confused by the prince’s sudden show of weakness. “Hired swords get quite loose-lipped after a few drinks. As to where the order came from—"

“Wait, I…"

A pained grunt escapes the prince’s throat. He sways on his feet ever so slightly, but steadies himself with a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. They both look down to where the wound is still trickling slowly, soaking his sleeve with a patch of dark crimson.

“Wait, I thought…” Geralt reaches out to hold Jaskier’s arm. His palm comes away covered in blood. “Shit, it shouldn’t be bleeding this much.”

“You followed all the way from Cintra, just to stop them from killing m—" Jaskier breaks off for air as Geralt rummages through his pack for bandages. The prince clenches the fabric over his chest, as if something is hurting him from within. “So much for… n—not getting involved.”

“Shut up, prince.” Geralt’s fingers reach the bandage. “Or Jaskier, or whatever flower you prefer.”

A strained smile contorts into a grimace on the prince’s face, his knees buckling.

“Shit.” The witcher barely manages to catch his limp body before his head hits the ground. Blue eyes become unfocused as his head sags against Geralt’s shoulder. “Jaskier? Prince? Can you hear me?”

Geralt inspects the wound on his arm closely for the first time, and that’s when his witcher senses pick up on the faint trail of bitterness.

“It’s poison,” he mutters and curses under his breath.

Jaskier whimpers weakly upon hearing the words, his eyes filled with full-blown panic. For the first time that day, the witcher senses potent fear in the prince’s scent.

Or is it his own?

Geralt can’t tell.

*

Roach is almost at her limits. The weight of two grown men puts a lot of tires her way too quickly, but Geralt doesn’t dare to slow down, not until he can see the castle walls.

“Don’t die now,” the witcher murmurs into the prince’s ear, who is slumped against his chest, half-delirious and slurring nonsense. The make-shift tourniquet on his arm is soaked through with specks of blood.

The poison is attacking his heart, Geralt notices. It’s also speeding it up, disrupting its rhythm. It’s the vicious kind, one that is designed to make the victim suffer before they die.

Jaskier’s face is white as a sheet, and his lips are turning a sickening purple. The trembling comes and goes, making it harder to keep him in place. His blue eyes roll back, and for a moment, Geralt thinks he’s lost him.

“We are here, prince. Do you hear me?” The gate opens when the guards realize that their prince is brought back injured. A lot of people are shouting but it’s all a blur when Geralt carries the prince down from the mare’s back. “Just hang on, Jaskier.”

Jaskier clings, his heartbeat fluttering dangerously.

They take Jaskier away with force, his limp hand slipping from Geralt’s grip. Someone kicks the witcher behind the knees, sending him to the ground. Weapons suddenly appear at his throat, stopping him from going any further.

“G’ralt…” Jaskier protests, his hands grabbing blindly.

“He needs a healer!” he shouts at those guards who only seem to be interested in restraining him.

Cornflower blues are fixed on golden yellow. The prince’s skin is covered in sweat, his lips quivering, struggling to form words. It takes a second for the witcher to realize that he’s talking to the guards.

“He saved my life. Don’t… He saved…me,” Jaskier chokes out a breath, and Geralt feels those guards release him.

The witcher is left kneeling as more men surround the prince and rush him inside. They’re either fussing over Jaskier or calling for help. His faint heartbeat gets lost in the commotion.

“Wait, is he going to—"

The gate shuts in his face. The last thing he sees is Jaskier collapsing in someone’s arms.

*

No word about the prince comes out for months. Not about the assassination. Not about his poisoning.

Rumor says that he was gravely injured during the attack, and that he has been bed-ridden since returning from Cintra. Some even suspect that he’s already dead.

*

“…I opened the envelope and it was an invitation from the prince!”

“It was magical, wasn’t it? He doesn’t show up for ages and suddenly we are all invited to a ball! In his castle! A royal ball where anyone can attend, no less! I heard he will choose one to marry tonight.”

“Although I heard he’s sick for quite some time…”

Geralt ducks his head while listening in on the two women’s conversation. They are each dressed in a luxurious ball gown, their faces powered and lips painted. Like everyone else in the room, they are trying to impress the prince at his first outing in months.

But that is not why he is here.

Geralt has been lingering in Aedirn since that day, when he sent Jaskier back to the castle with poison coursing through his veins, not knowing what would become of him. Months of dead silence only make his stomach sink further.

A chance presented itself when news came out that the prince will hold a ball to the public.

It only makes sense that he should go and check, just to make sure Jaskier is all right. After all, he doesn’t want to put in all the effort to save someone only to never know if he will end up fine.

He will see for himself that Jaskier is well, and then he will leave.

He will not get involved.

Of course not.

Geralt takes another sip of the wine, surprised at the buzz it gives to his temporarily human body. When the mage sold him the potion that could hide all visible witcher traits, she did not mention it would also slow his metabolism to an ordinary human’s.

“The disguise will expire at midnight, when the bell strikes twelve.” Luckily she didn’t forget about this.

What a cliché.

It seems that no mage can resist a touch of dramatics.

For now, he looks like another random lord with dark hair and brown eyes. She also threw in a spell to turn his clothes into a silky ensemble in a muted black color.

“His royal highness, Prince Julian!” someone announces.

The crowd turns their eyes to the top of the stairs, where the heavy wooden doors open in everyone’s anticipation. One of the two women lets out an audible gasp as the prince steps out.

And there he is, Jaskier.

Those blue eyes are bright as the sky, those cheeks rosy-pink. He’s a picture of health compared to the last time Geralt held him in his arms. The witcher lets out a relieved sigh he never knew he was holding.

A smile spreads across the prince’s face. Suddenly the wine isn’t the only thing making Geralt all warm and fuzzy inside.

The prince descends the stairs with such elegance, his doublet a pristine ivory color under the chandelier’s sparkling light. The clothes sit perfectly on his frame, but with a heavy heart, Geralt realizes that he’s also lost weight.

It’s minuscule, and the puffy sleeves hide it well, but it’s there. Bed-ridden for a long time, they say. The witcher swallows the lump in his throat.

The crowd parts for the prince, retreating to the edge of the dance floor. No one dares to breathe as they await his invitation to the first dance.  Once the dancing starts, the music will be too loud and the people too busy, giving the witcher a window to easily disappear into the night. But Jaskier continues to search through the crowd as if he has a specific someone to look for.

Before Geralt can even react, blue eyes have locked with his. The piercing blue makes him instinctively want to hide, but the witcher is frozen to the spot. The prince walks directly towards him, the grin spreading even wider if that is possible.

“May I have the first dance?” Jaskier reaches out, his palm facing up.

Countless eyes fall on Geralt, making his skin prickle, but he pays no mind. All he can focus on is the prince’s expectant look. Even now, without his witcher hearing to know Jaskier’s heartbeat, he can see the tentative hope in the way Jaskier seems to hold his breath.

Geralt takes his hand.

*

The royal garden is quiet under the night sky. The cool breeze is nice on Geralt’s skin, the faint hum of cicadas a soothing balm to his ear after hours of music and dance.

“Apologies. I was getting a little… uncomfortable in there.” The prince leads the witcher to a bench. His hand rubs at his heart like it’s bothering him.

“Are you well, my prince?” Geralt helps him sit down.

“Please, call me Jaskier.”

Geralt pauses. Does Jaskier tell his preferred name to anyone? Even a stranger he just met at a ball?

“Why Jaskier?”

“It’s the person I dream to be,” he answers wistfully but adds nothing to explain. Geralt wonders why a prince could possibly dream to be another person.

“I see.” He nods. “Are you feeling alright, Jaskier?”

The prince’s eyes soften as he reaches out to tuck a lock of curly brown hair out of Geralt’s face. The movement is so gentle that the witcher can’t help but catch his hand, holding those slender fingers in his palm.

They are way too slender, he thinks. Repressed worry bubbles up in his throat again.

“I’m fine now.” Jaskier squeezes his hand reassuringly. “Although I haven’t been for a few months, as you already know.”

“Uh…yes.” Geralt splutters. This closeness, combined with the touch of skin, seems to be slowing his brain. “There are rumors, from outside the castle. It was an attack, wasn’t it? At least that’s what I heard.”

“It was. They used poison, no less. The healers told me that it weakened my heart, even stopped it for a few seconds.” He chuckles sadly, threading their fingers together and pressing both their hands over his chest. “The pain still comes and goes these days, but I cope.”

The thumping underneath Geralt’s hand is rhythmic. Calming. It feels so fragile, especially now that he knows how little it takes to stop it. To snuff out the light in those cornflower-blue eyes along with it. And yet, this heart keeps beating.

“I’m glad you survived, Jaskier.”

The name comes out reverent, like a prayer.

“So am I, my friend.”

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

Moonlight frames Jaskier’s fond expression, giving it a soft glow. Long lashes cast a shadow on his faint blush. A grin spreads across the prince’s face when he answers.

“I hope? Or maybe I can hope for more. After all, this ball is held so I can find my future intended in the crowd.”

The implication makes Geralt’s breath hitch. He blinks.

“You don’t even know my name.” 

Jaskier’s eyes darken as he leans in. His hand comes up to cradle Geralt’s chin. “Somehow, I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

The crisp night air is mixed with the fresh smell of grass, but on top of it is a floral scent that reminds him of spring and hope. Geralt lets his senses be overwhelmed by the prince, by his soft breaths ghosting over his skin and those enchanting lips well within reach.

Not getting involved, the back of his mind screams.

Despite himself, Geralt meets Jaskier halfway, their lips a hair’s breadth away when—

The bell strikes. Once, twice…

The noise is the loudest wake-up call, turning Geralt’s blood to ice. What is he doing? Is it midnight already? Fuck… he needs to get out of here before the magic expires.

“I need to go,” Geralt blurts out. “I have to leave right now. Ah… I’m so sorry.”

Jaskier’s brows knit together in confusion. “What is wrong? I thought you—”

“I came here to make sure you are all right, Prince Julian. Nothing more. It was never my intention to let you believe there could be anything else.”

The prince’s face dims at his apology. The dejection on his face tugs at something in Geralt’s chest. It leaves him wanting, but there’s no time. The bell counts down his sentence.

He takes Jaskier’s hand and places a simple kiss there, and turns to leave, only to be halted by the prince’s tightening hold.

“Wait, you don’t have to go."

“You don’t understand,” Geralt’s voice quivers with urgency. “It’s important that I leave.”

Those gentle fingers wrap around Geralt’s steadily, Jaskier’s skin cool against his. The prince continues to ignore his plea. If anything, he steps closer.

“Stay. Please.” Jaskier whispers, and it’s all it takes.

The witcher can break free easily, but for some reason he is unable. For some reason, he feels the weakest he has ever been under the intensity of Jaskier’s pleading gaze.

To his horror, the magic fades. Geralt can feel his hair change and grow longer, his teeth sharpening. The flow of chaos stings his eyes that are certainly turning back to yellow. His face crumbles.

And yet, Jaskier never wavers.

If anything, the adoration in those stormy blues only grows, ever so beautifully, as the swirl of magic circles around Geralt, revealing plain clothes instead of silk. 

The bell strikes twelve.

The sound still echoes in the air. Slowly, with the utmost determination, Jaskier’s fingers thread through what is now silver-white hair. Tears glisten in his eyes.

“You told me we were not in a fairy tale, and yet, you try to leave me at midnight. You tried to leave me here under the stars. Alone and heartbroken.” The prince lets out a wet chuckle. “Because you think I wouldn’t recognize the man who saved my life. You think I wouldn’t know the witcher who’s risking everything right now just to see that I am well. I’d know you anywhere, Geralt of Rivia.”

Jaskier’s feather-light touch continues to trace the shell of Geralt’s ear, the tiny scar under his eye, and then finally, the corner of his mouth. It’s not often, in his long life, that Geralt gets his breath taken away, least of all by a prince.

“How?”

“I suspected,” Jaskier whispers. “Or rather I hoped when I saw you in the ballroom. I prayed. That it’s you.”

“You danced with me because—”

“Because I wanted to thank you properly. We were kind of in a hurry last time.” The prince teases, his palm tilting Geralt’s chin. “May I?”

He nods.

As if in a dream, soft lips press against his, tasting of salt and moonlight. Geralt lets out a tiny gasp as Jaskier opens him up patiently and draws it out like they have all the time in the world. Like he’s something to be treated with gentleness. Something to be treasured.

He pulls away panting, only to realize that tears are rolling down Jaskier’s cheeks freely, so he catches them with the pad of his thumb.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Geralt shushes him, but Jaskier sniffles with a smile.

“I’m not upset. Trust me when I say these are tears of joy.” Red-rimmed eyes sparkle like the stars. “But Geralt…”

“Yes?”

“Will I see you again?”

Geralt blinks. He only sneaked into a royal court with one goal. Now that he has achieved it and more, there’s nothing that should bring him back to Jaskier again. His heart twists painfully at the idea, and words tumble out of his mouth. The last of his sanity screams against it, and yet his heart has made the decision.

“I hope, Jaskier. I can only hope to see you again.”

Jaskier beams as he presses another kiss to Geralt’s wrist.

“That is enough for me.”

*

“Your longing eyes grieve what is lost

But naught can change this parting harsh…”

Jaskier’s voice echoes hauntingly. In front of him, the elven family sits huddled together, listening intently. The two children are concentrating so hard that they are almost falling off their parents’ laps. Finally, as the soft strumming of the lute comes to an end, they start clapping with passion.

From a distance, Geralt can only see the prince from behind, but somehow he can sense the big smile Jaskier returns to those excited children. The wind in the Blue Mountains ruffles his brown hair. Jaskier continues to take off the strap and carefully hands the lute to the elven woman.

The witcher approaches quietly.

“…thank you so much! It is such a beautiful instrument.” Jaskier’s voice is warm and welcoming. She’s certainly charmed when they keep talking about music and folk songs.

Geralt stands there and lets Jaskier’s presence wash over him. In the end, it’s the other woman who notices him and gestures in his direction.

Jaskier turns his head and beams.

“Geralt! What brings you here?”

With a few long strides, the prince rushes over and slams their bodies into a bear hug. Anyone who’s not a witcher might have been knocked over by the force, but Geralt catches Jaskier steadily.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you!” Jaskier exclaims as he presses a chaste pack to the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “I haven’t seen you since the manticore hunt.”

“It was still weird that you would want to come with me on hunts.”

“What is life if not to see your favorite witcher in action?” Jaskier waves it off as if a prince getting monster gut all over himself is a common occurrence. He checks Geralt all over. “Anyway, how’s the path treating you, my dear? Any injuries? Exciting stories?”

“The path is fine.” His excitement is too contagious that Geralt feels his lips tug upwards. “And it hasn’t been long. Two months at most.”

“Nonsense. Any amount of time not seeing you feels like ages.”

The parents lead their children away, the girl still humming the song from Jaskier’s private performance.

“I didn’t know the prince could play the lute. Or sing,” he teases.

“Ha! I’m full of surprises, you shall see! Besides, I always thought—” Jaskier cuts himself off, ducks his head before continuing. “I always thought that in another life, I would have been a bard.”

“Would you?”

“Mm-hmm. I would travel the continent, write songs about heroes and adventures. With a lute on my back, I could go to the edge of the world and beyond. Maybe even meet some interesting people, find my muse, or… fall in love.”

He winks at Geralt cheekily when the witcher realizes something.

“So is Jaskier the stage name you picked? For this bard life?”

“Why yes.” Jaskier sounds so surprised. “How do you know? Oh, my dear witcher, you do understand me like no one else! Not even Valdo is a match to you, no matter how well he claims to know me.”

The mention of Valdo Marx’s name sends a pang of bitterness through Geralt, though he has learned long ago that it’s irrational. The prince’s life-long friend, now an important right-hand man, is the most devoted advisor in Jaskier’s council. He’s supported Jaskier in everything throughout his life, having done nothing wrong by the prince, and yet, Geralt can’t bring himself to like the man.

Maybe it’s because of his too-shiny blonde hair. It gives him a headache if he stares at it for too long. Maybe it’s his all-knowing eyes that tend to judge the witcher silently every time they meet. The distrust is too typical for politicians such as him.

Or maybe, it’s because anyone with eyes can see how Valdo is desperately in love with Jaskier, but apparently, it’s not that obvious to the prince himself.

“I know because only you will have a tacky name like Buttercup for your professional career.” The words come out more sour than Geralt expected.

Jaskier squawks with rightful indignation, and Geralt can’t help but snort out a laugh. It’s truly too easy to rile him up.

“It’s just hard to picture.” The witcher continues, while taking Jaskier’s hand. “Someone like you, with soft hands like these. It would take a lot of hard work if you want to make it as a musician. I’m not sure if my prince is up for that job.”

Jaskier slaps him on the arm offendedly. “I’ll have you know, Geralt of Rivia! I am perfectly capable of enduring hardship for the right cause! Now that was truly rude of you to assume that I am spoiled just because I’m a prince! Really, it’s very unbecoming of you!”

“Hmm.” Geralt tilts his head, amused. “And what is a right cause in your book?”

All jokes dissipate after that question.

The prince looks around to the new camps and make-shift houses, everything illuminated by the setting sun. Bonfires are lit where families are gathered after dinner, laughing and dancing together, despite the hardship that brought them here.

“I want everyone on my land to live happily, no matter how they came to Aedirn. I wish they could all see it as a home,” Jaskier says sadly. “That is the most important cause in my life, Geralt. Although I’m not sure if that’s just a fantasy.”

Geralt squeezes the prince’s hands gently. They are exceedingly soft, and cold to the touch. The witcher used to assume that Jaskier just runs a little colder than the average person. But later, to his dismay, he found out that it’s yet another result of the poisoning.

He never wants to see Jaskier’s chest pain flare up again. He never wants to see Jaskier bend over in agony, his hands turning into blocks of ice from the lack of blood flow, his face skin covered in sweat in an instant. Just witnessing it happen almost gives Geralt phantom pain. What’s worse is that there’s nothing he can do but wait it out, holding Jaskier close and rocking him back and forth slowly.

At least he’s now feeling contrite. Teasing Jaskier about not being strong enough was a low blow, when in fact, the young prince is the furthest from deserving such an accusation.

He doesn’t need swords or muscles to be strong.

Jaskier is strong for his stubbornness and his unwavering faith. The elven settlement around them is the best testament. He carried on despite being hated by all other kingdoms, despite the attempt on his life, one that was nearly fatal. One that still hurts him in the quiet of the night.

“Fantasy or not,” Geralt’s insides melt at the way Jaskier looks at him expectantly. “I’d like to see it through with you, if you allow me to.”

Blue eyes suddenly sparkle with renewed excitement.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Geralt?” Jaskier asks carefully as if he could spook the witcher. “Are you finally saying yes to my proposal?”

“I’m considering it.”

“You’ve been considering it since the first time I asked!”

“You asked on our third ever meeting, Jaskier.” Geralt chuckles in exasperation. “And you’ve been asking every time we see each other.”

“And you’ve been giving me the same response every time.” His pout is too adorable Geralt wants to kiss it away. “One might suggest it’s rude to string a prince along like this.”

Geralt hums while cupping Jaskier’s jaw in his palm, tilting it so their gazes meet.

“One might also suggest that our beloved Prince Julian is too good for a witcher like me.”

Ho only means to joke but the smile on Jaskier’s face falls, hurt immediately replacing the earlier chirpiness.

“Shit, Jask… Forget I said that.” Geralt closes his eyes, regretting having ruined the moment.

“Darling, we talked about this.”

“No, you’re right. Of course…”

Jaskier takes the witcher’s hand and places a kiss in his palm. “I won’t allow terrible things to be said about the man I love, and that includes you, my dear. I’d hate it if you joined those senseless folk who can’t see you for the good man you are.” He bites into his lower lip. “Now, I understand if you have reservations about us. I mean, what I am… or what I do, is a lot. I won’t rush you into a decision anymore. I never meant to pressure you.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Jaskier.” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. “We are from completely different worlds. Anyone who has eyes will tell you we’re not compatible.”

“Did Valdo say something to you again? Or is that truly what you believe?” Jaskier takes a step back. “Do you wish to end things with me? I—I’ll understand if you want to—"

“No, Jask.”

“—I know how much I’m keeping you in Aedirn, and maybe you wish to be free of court rules and politics and—”

“Jaskier.” Geralt interjects, and cornflower blues meet him in earnest. He knows too well how the prince could spiral out of control, dredging up all the terrible scenarios hidden in the dark corner of his mind. Jaskier looks so lost right now and all Geralt wants to do is make it better, so he does it with action, as always.

He kisses Jaskier with a bruising force. It’s too rushed, too clumsy compared to the gentle caress they normally share, but it conveys everything Geralt cannot promise yet. Not out loud. Not right now.

Geralt threads his fingers into the hair at the nape of Jaskier’s neck, playing with the soft locks. He lets Jaskier lean against his shoulder when they break off the kiss.

“I’m yours, my prince,” he whispers.

“Have I told you how much I love it when you call me that.”

Geralt hides his amusement in soft brown hair.

“Many times, my prince,” he indulges Jaskier. “And yet I cannot help but worry. I fear that things will not work because of our differences. I am a witcher. I am the Butcher of Blaviken, no matter how noble you believe me to be. I will never become someone else. Not like in fairy tales, where a farm girl can transform into a princess and suddenly become worthy of her prince. I fear you’ll make too many compromises because of who I am, bear too many scrutinies, and you will end up resenting me.”

Jaskier shakes his head at those words, his hair ticking Geralt’s ear.

“You speak of my sacrifices, but what about you?” His hand rests between Geralt’s shoulder blades. “You’ve walked the continent for so long. Will you resent me for caging you in a castle because of who I am?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt breathes the name solemnly. “You promised to never trap me in the drudgery of court life. You promised that no matter what we become, I can always return to my path when my heart desires. I trust you on that.”

“And I trust you in return, that you won’t dishonor me. Not in ways that matter.”

They pull away. The sun is hanging just on the horizon, drawing a golden line around Jaskier’s hair.

“I will ask one thing of you, my prince,” Geralt says. “Allow me more time to be sure. Of myself and of our future.”

Jaskier’s eyes crinkle at the corners, taking the witcher’s hand and presses it over his heart, where the doublet is left wide open. The warmth of his skin seeps through the thin chemise and into Geralt’s calloused palm.

“Don’t you see, my darling? I’d give you the stars if you asked. What is a little more time?” His chest rises and falls. “Although I need you to promise something as well.”

“What is it?”

The last of the sunlight fades, darkening Jaskier’s eyes like a stormy night.

“Don’t break my heart in the meantime.”

The plea comes out desperate, vulnerable. Under his palm, Geralt feels the soft thumping that he knows to be fragile.

“I won’t,” he breathes the words reverently. “I promise.”

Jaskier’s heart is so full of the world and its sufferings, so full that there’s hardly room left for himself. So full that the witcher should build a shrine for whatever gods out there that it gives him any attention. To think that he has any power over it, that he can hurt it easily, makes his stomach turn.

He’d live out his life fulfilling that promise if allowed.

*

The witcher walks the path just like he’s done for the past decades. Temeria’s wind is as freezing as ever, and its secrets even more so.

Another dangerous contract is nothing new, and yet, something in him shifts. Somehow, the days ahead are no longer painted with monotonous black and white, but an unpredictable mixture of colors—orange like the setting sun on Jaskier’s long lashes, or rosy-pink like the too-easy blush that dusts over his cheeks when he’s pretending to be unaffected by Geralt’s attention.

More often than not, he sees in his future the blue of Jaskier’s eyes, deep and vast like the sea.

The same blue is what flashes across Geralt’s eyes as the striga’s teeth bury into his neck. With the crypt cold and hard against his back, the witcher would laugh at the irony of it if not for the blood choking in his throat.

Funny how the moment of revelation does not come in a whirlwind of poetry, one that is befitting to Jaskier. The moment Geralt realizes that he is finally ready to take Jaskier’s hand might just be his last moment.

He drifts into bottomless darkness and wakes to cool fingers on his forehead.

And here Jaskier is, sitting by his bedside, his frame so lonely in the Temple of Melitele. A relieved sigh by his lips and tired bruises under his eyes. Gone is his composed regality. Jaskier looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like he just rode all the way here with wind still in the tousled mess of his hair.

“Yes,” Geralt croaks.

The prince rushes forward to fuss over his bandages and splints, cooing with the most distressed frown. “What do you need, my dear?”

“Yes.” Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand, caressing those cool fingers. The stitches in his neck tug uncomfortably.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, my prince.”

---

Tagging: @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @theultimatenerdd

Are the tags working? Anyway feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #prince!jaskier #fairy tale elements #hurt/comfort #i can't believe this became a full story #hurt jaskier #jaskier whump #geralt doesn't see himself as a heroic knight #and jaskier is hardly a traditional prince charming #knight and prince dynamic with a twist

[twiistedgalaxies]

Three Times Jaskier Didn’t Seem Quite Human

(And one time Geralt asked too many questions.)

      “Jaskier isn’t human,” Yennefer stated bluntly, swishing a wine glass in her right hand.

      Geralt blinked, “What?”  This gave Yennefer pause. She knew that her on and off again lover was oblivious, but she hadn’t realized it was quite to this extent. Jaskier gave her a pained, pleading look from the other end of the table. She ignored him.

      “You seriously haven’t noticed?” she continued with a huff.

      “...No?” Geralt’s brows furrowed together in confusion. The nerve of these idiots. Yennefer had half a mind to just state the obvious, to keep these two from continuing to dance around the subject, possibly until the end of time.

      But it was much more fun to gently direct Geralt to the answer and watch his bard squirm. Yennefer took a sip of her wine, mentally cursing her high alcohol tolerance, “You’ve been travelling with the man for decades,” Geralt’s face was blank, the puzzle pieces not fitting into place, “He hasn’t aged, Geralt.”

      “That doesn’t mean anything,” he protested, though from the way his eyes shifted towards his companion he was clearly thinking it over. If they were not at such a high profile party Yennefer would have strangled him. He opened his mouth to say something else, but it was at that exact moment that Jaskier decided to pick up his lute and perform for the crowd - granted, it was what he had been invited to do, but Yennefer sent him a withering glare anyways. She was met with a cheeky wink. Oh if looks could kill. 

      “I could prove it to you, you know? A few well placed detection spells and-”

      Geralt shook his head, “He’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

      “You two are hopeless,” Yennefer sighed.

-@~*^*~@-

      It had been after a particularly difficult hunt, when Jaskier had to dress his companion’s wounds for the umpteenth time. Geralt sat upon a stool in the center of their tiny room at the inn. He looked more irritated than usual as Jaskier gave him what was essentially a sponge bath around where a kikimore had stabbed his shoulder with one of it’s spindly arms. Jaskier winced, it was too close to important organs for comfort. Humming as he worked, Jaskier tried to stitch shut what he could and thoroughly bandage the rest. The wolf medallion on Geralt’s chest thrummed contentedly each time the bard’s delicate hands drew near.

      “Where did you learn?” he asked suddenly, his gruff voice cutting through the peaceful quiet.

      “Hm?” Jaskier hummed, ignoring the Witcher’s grunt of pain as he applied one of his many salves to his shoulder, “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, dear.”

      “The salves, the stitching, all of it,” Jaskier raised an eyebrow at that, but Geralt continued, “It’s a very odd skill for a bard to have.”

      A laugh, Geralt had to bite back a hiss as Jaskier’s touches grew less gentle. He clearly wanted him to drop it. “What? Do you think that I was helpless before you came along with your bulging muscles and witchery glares?”

      The witcher shook his head, silver hair sending droplets of water in the air, “No it’s not that,” the bard had certainly proved capable and skilled many times over, “It’s just, were you a healer before you became a bard?”

      Jaskier froze, seemingly caught in a memory, “Something like that,” he began to bandage Geralt’s shoulder, “This kikimore did quite the number on you, didn’t it?”

      Geralt gave him a look of disbelief because obviously.

      “Come on, come on, give me the details, I can’t write my ballads off of just grunts and intrusive questions now can I?”

-@~*^*~@-

      Jaskier had tagged along on what was supposed to be a minor contract. Nilfgaard had stormed a small town, leaving destruction and countless corpses in their wake. Corpses that were perfect for every Alghoul in a three mile radius. 

      He and Geralt were engaged in their usual banter (which consisted mostly of Jaskier rambling about whatever was on his mind, punctuated with the occasional grunt from his witcher), when a sudden, piercing screech rang through the air. It was high pitched, shrill, and caused Jaskier to clutch his head as he let out a groan of pain. 

      Meanwhile, Geralt immediately leapt into action, drawing his silver sword as a pack of the necrophages surrounded them. He was able to take out several, his sword and the ghouls creating a smooth, gory dance. It all seemed to be going well before an Alghoul caught Geralt off guard, leaping onto his back while extending its spines. This sent Geralt off balance, and he was quickly overwhelmed. His sword got knocked out of his hands in the scuffle and he thought that this, however stupid it may be, would be what would kill him. 

      A cry of rage. Slashing, tearing. Suddenly the weight that was dragging Geralt to the ground grew lighter. He felt something wet and sticky. Geralt looked up to see Jaskier standing over him, holding Geralt’s silver sword, out of breath, and covered in Alghoul viscera.

      The bard looked down at himself, annoyance on his admittedly handsome features, “That was my favorite tunic too!” The tunic in question, once baby blue (like his eyes which were now flashing gold, what the fuck?) was now stained red and black. Jaskier brushed a bit of entrails off his shoulder, visibly disgusted.

      “Huh?” Geralt said, intelligently.

-@~*^*~@-

      The pair was making their way north, Jaskier strumming on his lute and Geralt sat atop Roach. The dirt road was a tunnel bordered by a wall of towering trees, whose orange and red canopies blocked out the sun, casting the duo in dappled shade. 

      Jaskier strummed a few chords in the major key, before he spoke, “Geralt, are you doing alright?” His face was soft and forget-me-not eyes distant like they often grew when he was lost in thought. Geralt shot him a confused look. “It’s just that, you’ve seemed rather distracted lately.”

      “Hm?”

      “I,” Jaskier sighed, collecting himself, “It’s just with the kikimore and the alghouls, and just last week when you forgot your potions in Roach’s saddlebags. I’ve never seen you get like this before, what’s going on?”

      “It’s nothing.” Geralt replied, gaze sliding to anywhere but his bard.

      Jaskier reached up, intertwining his lithe fingers with Geralt’s own, “I’m worried about you, Love.”

      Geralt huffed, he could never resist the man’s pouting lips and puppy-dog eyes, “Yen and I had a conversation at that party a few months ago.”

      He felt the bard tense, “Is that so?” There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. Jaskier must have realized Geralt, man of few words that he is, wasn’t going to elaborate any further, so he spoke, “What did you two talk about?”

      “She said you aren’t human and I just thought about it more and… it makes too much sense,” Geralt began, feeling awkward as he tried to find the words to explain, “The way you don’t age, your medical knowledge (even of witcher potions!), how you know your way around a sword and how your eyes gleamed-”

      “Geralt, as you know I have an impeccable skincare routine and-”

      He frowned, “Don’t give me that shit, bard.”

      Jaskier sighed, “You really want to know?” A nod. “Okay, well, here goes nothing.” The bard let go of the witcher’s hand, and pulled off a golden ring that, now that Geralt thought about it, he had never seen the man without. A shimmer fell over the bard’s body, like a statue being unveiled. The first thing Geralt noticed was his eyes, they were a sickening, piercing yellow. His face was marred by countless scars, from claws, burns, knives, and magic. Jaskier’s build underneath the glamour more closely resembled Geralt’s, though he retained his shorter stature. The bard smiled sardonically at the witcher’s shocked expression, “Like what you see?”

      Geralt’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, “How?”

      “You’d probably know me better as Julian,” Jaskier’s eyes got that distant look to them again, his face was downcast, an unusual expression for someone who typically embodied sunshine, “I was in the Griffin school, before we were attacked,” a joyless laugh, “I had never wanted to be a witcher, ya know? Wasn’t cut out for it. But my father, Viscount Pankratz himself, couldn’t pay a witcher for his contract, so he offered me up instead. I failed as a noble, so maybe I wouldn’t fail as a witcher. He was wrong, of course, I spent most of my time writing poems instead of studying Signs. Singing instead of sparring. After the trials I spent a few years on the path before I grew sick of it and returned to Kaer Seren.”

      Geralt hummed, encouraging Jaskier to continue.

      “I was made to look after the students, I had to patch up their wounds and keep them from blowing themselves up with alchemy. I loved the little rascals, which is why..” Jaskier trailed off, fingers tracing the grooves in his lute.

      “It’s okay,” Geralt said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

      He shook his head hurriedly, “No, no I want to, I have to,” his voice cracked, “I left after the trials killed them. All of them. I couldn’t bear to be a part of it. A part of everything. So I ran, like a coward,” He spat out that last word like a curse.

      The pair stopped. Geralt placed his gloved hand on the bard’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection and reassurance.

      “Eventually, I found a mage and spent my life’s savings on a well-made glamour and the lute the elves at Posada so lovingly destroyed. It wasn’t until I had graduated from Oxenfurt that I found out what happened in Kaer Seren.”

      “Why didn’t you tell me?” Geralt asked, his voice gentle.

      Jaskier’s face flushed red with shame, “I was afraid. Afraid of what you would think of me. That you’d hate me.”

      Geralt frowned, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

      At that, Jaskier laughed, “Just look at me! I’m an ugly fuck-up.”

      “No,” Geralt said resolutely.

      “Huh?”

      “I said no. Do you know how many times you’ve saved my life? Made long nights on the path easier to bear? I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you,” Geralt continued, looking Jaskier directly in the eyes. He didn’t reply to that, just slipped his ring back on and hugged his arms to his chest.

      The rest of the day’s journey was spent in silence.

A/N:  I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment, I love hearing feedback. I had one hell of a time writing this, I originally had only written the first scene, and it took a few months for my single window's screensaver brain cell to finally hit a corner and figure out how to continue and finish the story.

Ao3

#The Witcher #The Witcher netflix #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #fic #ao3 #ff.net #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher!jaskier #feral jaskier #yennefer #dandelion #netflix #non-human jaskier

[xaharadesert]

Oblivious MC - Headcanon

Arcana Characters (Main 5) x MC

*Nadia in an upcoming post*

A/N: Yay, more headcanons! I know these are slow but the new school system is kicking my butt. This next one is for the amazing @genderless-plant-likes-thearcana! They come up with lots of cool ideas for prompts to send to various writers, so you should definitely check out their profile! They came up with a super cute prompt this time; an MC who is super oblivious to their LI’s romantic interest in them! I really appreciate the specifics added in the request, they really helped me out! Thank you! While you’re reading you may notice the headcanons get a bit goofier as they though ;) my bad, but this prompt was too fun. Another side note: I ran out of bullet points and couldn’t fit Nadia into this post, so she’ll be getting her own! As always, I recognize Asra’s non-binary gender orientation but will be using he/him pronouns :) Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes! Requests are open :)

❤️Julian❤️

He’s so in love with you

Like, more in love with you than he ever has been with anyone else

But he’s also insecure as heck

So when he starts dropping obvious hints about wanting to be in a relationship with you, and you just don’t get it...

He starts to think that maybe you only like him as a friend

I mean, he’s not being subtle at all

He flirts with you constantly, he sends you winks in the middle of a theatre rehearsal, he almost always has a hand on your should or back to guide you through the busier parts of Vesuvia...

Once he even stood up on a table in the middle of the Rowdy Raven and sang you a love song at the top of his lungs

You just thought he was being dramatic, as always

To you, Julian was an incredible friend

I mean, you maaay have had a teeeensy little crush on him, but he was such a sweetheart that you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you two had

You went on adventures together, you attended his theatre performances, and he did his best to support you in all your magical endeavours

Overall, the dynamic the two of you had was already incredible

And neither of you really wanted to ruin that

When Julian started thinking that maybe you only liked him as a friend he decided to be “selfless” and simply keep his feelings to himself

Of course, that would never work for long

Julian was a man of passion and, possible consequences be damned, he wanted you to know how he felt

So one day, when the two of you were at the Rowdy Raven together and he was tipsy enough to do something stupid, he stood up on the table and loudly announced his undying love for you

Believe me, even for Julian it was dramatic

It was a long speech about how amazing he thought you were, including vivid descriptions about each and every thing about your personality, appearance, and hobbies that he loved

So needless to say you needed cut him off a bit early so that the two of you wouldn’t be there all night

Unfortunately the first thought in your mind upon hearing this was “oh my stars he’s under some kind of spell”

You immediately dragged him out of the tavern and back to the magic shop to find some sort of cure, muttering theories under your breath the entire way

Julian, of course, was not under a spell and was feeling rather put out by your response to his confession

He wasn’t entirely sure where the two of you were going because you hadn’t bothered to share your suspicions with him (why would you? You thought he was being influenced by magic)

When the two of you reached your shop and you started skimming through books he finally asked what you were doing, seeming understandably surprised by the turn of events

You hesitated a bit, not knowing if it was worth explaining this to him, but settled on a brief explanation of “you’re under some kind of love potion and I need to break it” with a side of “please don’t do anything dumb while I try to help you”

Julian of course was, again, fairly shocked to hear this

A spell? What spell? He had been in love with you for months! There was no way it was a spell!

With his mind racing a mile a minute he finally realized what was going on

You were just really, really, REALLY oblivious to his feelings

This revelation caused him to laugh out loud, likely startling you out of your searching

When you looked at him in confusion and a bit of concern he only laughed louder, bending over and wheezing a bit

It took a while for him to calm down, even with your panicked response to his sudden change of emotion

When he was finally done laugiinh and had wiped the tears from his eyes he gave you the biggest grin he was possible of giving

He did his best to explain that no, he was not under a spell, no, he was not joking, and yes, he really did love you as more than a friend

He swears, the look on your face was worth the emotional rollercoaster he had been through that night

And you? Well, you probably needed a minute to process everything that he had just revealed

Of course, the feelings of love were mutual and you said as much when you could finally form words again

Julian was thrilled to hear that you loved him back

The two of you would be happy for many years to come, and even if Julian occasionally teased you about your obliviousness you could never truly be mad at him for it

🧡Portia🧡

She’s super open about just how much she loves you

Portia sees no reason to hide her true feelings, so she’s often very blunt about them

She’ll drop a “you’re gorgeous” or “I wanna kiss you” into a casual conversation like it’s nothing

But you somehow manage to not pick up on it

So of course, Portia doubles her efforts

She bakes you cookies in the shape of hearts, bring you nice flowers on her days off, and take you on what she considers dates, just waiting for you to pick up on her love for you

And yet none of this gets through to you

You think this is how Portia is with everyone

She was cheeky from the moment you met her, so when she tells you she wants to kiss you you just assume she’s joking

Everything else seems to just be an awesome friendship

Obviously Portia is super cute, and obviously dating her would be tons of fun, but there’s obviously NO WAY she could ever be interested in you like that... right?

Portia eventually starts to think you’re just messing with her

There’s no way you could be that oblivious

You definitely had to know she was into you, and you were just playing hard to get

She knows you have feelings for her too, the two of your wouldn’t be as close as you were otherwise

But, no offence, she’s getting a bit impatient

So she decides to just do what needs to be done

The two of you were walking through the market near your shop one day when she grabbed your arm to stop you in the middle of the crowd

She turned you so that you were facing her, looked you straight in the eye, and told you she loved you with the most serious expression you had ever seen on her face

As oblivious as you may be, there was no way for you to misinterpret this as anything other than the truth

Except there was

You assumed she was under a love spell

After the initial shock of finding out your friend was being influenced by magic was over, you immediately dragged her back to your shop without a word

Portia kinda thought you two were going home to make out and she was totally down with it

But when you entered the shop and started digging through your supplies, looking for something, she realized that maybe SHE had misinterpreted

She asked you what you were doing and nearly burst out laughing at the response

You thought she was under a spell? Seriously? You were actually that oblivious the whole time?

She thought it was the most hilarious thing she had heard in a long time

Eventually she managed to calm down enough to reassure you that, no, she was not under a spell

But of course you didn’t believe her, and thought that it was the spell talking

You went back to searching for an antidote while Portia continued trying to prove to you that she was genuinely in love with you

She listed the first time she realized she loved you, the first time she had said it to you to no response, the first time she had wanted to kiss you

She talked about how much she loved every part of you, from your personality, to your hobbies, to your insanely cool magic

Portia was nowhere near as dramatic as her brother could be, but she was very open about her love for you

Finally, you seemed to realize that she was telling the truth (no magic involved)

In turn, you confessed your feelings toward her as well

She gave you a bit of a sly grin and asked how she could be certain you weren’t under some magic spell

To this you responded by kissing her

So I guess she was right when she assumed you two were going back to your place to make out

The two of you were happy from then on, although Portia never let you forget just how dense you were

💛Lucio💛

It’s hard to imagine anyone could be so oblivious about his feelings

Lucio is the most in-your-face about his love for you

He leaves absolutely no room for doubt, which means it’s even more incredible that you don’t seem to get it

He has asked you to marry him about half a dozen times and you keep??? Laughing?? About it????

Doesn’t understand what’s happening

Nobody has ever done this sort of thing to him before, so his mind just blanks if he thinks about it too much

I mean there’s no way you could dislike him, right? You definitely return his feelings... RIGHT?

He’s insecure, but he’ll never admit that

Instead, he chooses to continue his over-the-top dramatic proposals and confessions until you say yes

On the other hand, you don’t really know what’s happening either

You know that Lucio’s a bit... strange, but this is a lot even for him

You start to think that maybe it’s his way of dealing with his feelings now that Nadia’s left him

So you decide to keep being a great friend to help him get through it!

And if that means wading through a bunch of strange emotional obstacles, then so be it!

(Lucio’s in the background banging his head against a wall in frustration)

It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy just being friends with you; he loves having someone around who genuinely cares about him

It’s just that he wants more

He hires people to build giant statues of you (which may be in poor taste, but who cares), he buys or sponsors all of your favourite shops, he always makes sure you get the best of everything

To you, this just seems like Lucio overcompensating for his previous “oopsies”

But one day it occurs to him that maybe you don’t understand his feelings because he’s going about it the wrong way

You’re pretty much immune to his dramatic proposals, so maybe he should try the opposite

So he put together a little plan

It wasn’t a particularly special night; no big occasion to be celebrated

He took you out to the balcony and leaned against the railing, looking oddly serious for someone who had no concept of emotional maturity

He took his time to prepare himself before speaking rather slowly and quietly in comparison to his usual tone

Lucio told you that he loved you, and he left no room for arguement

He didn’t embellish his words in any way, knowing that something simple would be the most likely way to get your attention

And boy did it work

You immediately assumed he was under some sort of spell

I mean Lucio? Acting like a normal person?? No way

You panicked right away and made a run for it, leaving Lucio behind on the balcony in your hurry to leave

Lucio, of course, was shocked, and more than a little offended to have been left so abruptly

People didn’t just leave him places without a good explanation

So obviously he chased you, yelling after you as you did your best to navigate the palace on your way to the library

Unfortunately for you, Lucio is surprisingly athletic and managed to catch you before you reached the door

He untactfully grabbed your arm, which caused you to scream, which caused him to scream, which caused everything to become even more of a mess than before

The two of you were just standing in the middle of the hall, screaming at each other

You wanted to find a way to free Lucio from whatever spell he was under, and Lucio wanted to know why you were running away

When you both calmed down (you being the first, of course), you explained your theory, which wounded Lucio’s ego even more than before

Lucio in return, replied in a not-so-polite manner, asking if you really thought he was stupid enough to be put under some dumb spell

Yes

Yes you did

Lucio had to explain his entire thought process behind confessing in such a normal way, which was pretty embarrassing from his perspective

But to you, it likely came across as sweet as it finally dawned on you that yes, he really was in love with you

The two of you probably had to immediately follow up the confession with a talk about whether or not he was serious about getting married

He was, but he didn’t want to make you feel awkward so he denied it

You two agreed to take things a little slower than he originally planned

The relationship was slightly awkward for the first few days, because neither of you quite understood what had happened the night of the confession

But either way, the two of you were happy, and that was all that mattered

(Although, when Lucio eventually asked you to marry him again it was just as chaotic and messy as the first time)

💚Muriel💚

Oh no, this won’t end well

Muriel is almost the epitome of insecure, so flirting is pretty much impossible for him

He tried a couple of times to be more forward, but when you didn’t respond to his advances he quickly backed down

He didn’t want to overstep, and immediately assumed you just wanted to be friends

Although, admittedly, he has seen other people flirt with you, and you don’t respond to them either

So maybe you’re just not interested in relationships? Or maybe you’re just as bad at flirting as he is

Either way, as much as he loved you, he didn’t push

From your perspective it would seem like Muriel just wanted to be friends

And frankly, anyone else around you would think the same thing

There was nothing particularly romantic about how Muriel acted around you

Arguably the boldest thing he was doing was spending so much time with you

But to you, this was simply a friendship

And of course, you greatly valued Muriel’s friendship

Once you had gotten past the rough exterior, you found that he was a giant sweetheart

He carved small wooden figures for you, and didn’t seem to mind spending time with you

Inanna loved you too, so that was a bonus

Your friendship with Muriel probably lasted much longer than it would have if either of you had any sense of romance

Neither of you tried to take things further because both of you were terrible at flirting and being flirted with

Eventually someone (Asra) had to step in and give Muriel a little push

Asra had known you for a long time, so he alerted Muriel to how oblivious you were and how to best confess his feelings

Muriel didn’t really want to confess at that point, because he didn’t want to make things awkward between you two if something went wrong

But his love for you outweighed his anxiety and he decided to do it anyway

It was a rather cold night, and the two of you were in his hut

You were both curled up by the fire (plus Inanna, of course), and you were telling Muriel a story about a particularly annoying customer from the day before

When you finished the story, a comfortable silence fell between you (which was something Muriel had always appreciated; silence with you was never awkward)

That was when Muriel took his chance and quietly told you he loved you

Except he said it too quietly and you didn’t hear him over the sound of the fire

I mean, you saw his lips move, and therefore asked him to repeat himself, but it was still quiet

Muriel hadn’t anticipated this, and accidentally repeated it in a voice that was much too loud for such a peaceful night

He immediately winced in embarrassment, only to be startled from it when you screamed

He had been anticipating rejection, but he thought a scream may have been a bit dramatic

But of course, you didn’t see it as a rejection; you thought Muriel was under a love spell

Why else would your quiet, anti-social friend suddenly confess to something you had never even seen him hint at before?

And more importantly, who had out the spell on him? Most people didn’t know about him, so it was either someone close to him, or someone EXTREMELY powerful.

You didn’t know which one was worse

You leaned forward, cupping his face in your hands and staring into his eyes, promising that you would help him

This only succeeded in confusing him, the poor man

He didn’t know what you were talking about, and you were starting to freak him out a little

When he asked if you were alright, you started to look confused too

You reminded him that he was the one under the spell, not you

Cue a chorus of confused “what?”s being exchanged by two confused people

In the end, Muriel realized that you had thought he was under a spell when he suddenly confessed

He blushed as red as a tomato and did his best to string together enough words to explain to you that he wasn’t

He genuinely loved you

He also quietly cursed Asra for making him confess, which suddenly helped a lot of pieces fit together for you

You nodded along and agreed that Asra’s meddling was problematic in this case

In the end the two of you spent a fair portion of the night just talking out your feelings and realizing that maybe you would like to be more than friends

Both of you were blushing a lot throughout the entire thing, and years later when the two of you were happy together, you mutually decided to never bring up how you had gotten together in the first place

Asra, however, had somehow found out, and was determined to never let either of you live it down

💙Asra💙

Subtlety? Never heard of it

Asra is the absolute best at letting you know just how much he loves you

Even despite your obliviousness, you are fully aware that he loves you

And of course, you love him back!

How could you not?

Except, the way you see it... it’s platonic love

And Asra is 100% okay with that!

You two share a heart, so he fully understands that you view the live that you two share as platonic

This doesn’t really bother him; as long as you’re alive and happy, that’s all that matters

He’s perfectly content to pursue a strong friendship with you

But of course, being the cheeky legend that he is, he has to slip in some flirting and teasing once in a while

He’ll wink at you in the middle of work, casually brush against you while passing you in the shop, and hold your hand as often as possible

But of course, you view this as friendship

Who doesn’t cuddle with their best friend literally every night? That’s totally normal

You couldn’t ask for a better friend than Asra; he’s always there when you need him and he somehow always seems to know how you feel

You’re incredibly grateful to know him, and you feel safe and comfortable living in the same space as him

Yep, definitely only friendship feelings

He shows his love in little ways to you every day

The two of you live together, so of course you will occasionally have a petty arguement and try to stay seperate for a while, but that doesn’t stop him

He’ll “forget” which chores are yours and do a couple for you, he’ll make your favourite drink “by accident” and then claim he isn’t thirsty, and he’ll casually send Faust into the same room as you if he thinks you’re crying

Overall, just a great partn- I mean friend

He doesn’t really feel the need to confess to you, but if he notices that you’re starting to feel a more romantic attraction toward him then he’ll definitely take advantage of that

If you only wanted to be friends, then, well, that was one thing

But if you wanted to be something more... then he was definitely more than okay with that as well

Asra didn’t exactly plan out how he would confess to you, and instead waited for what he felt was the right moment

He knew it would come eventually, and there was no real rush

So when the two of you were travelling together, and you were both stargazing late at night, the feeling struck him

You had just settled down from laughing at a joke when he gently tilted your chin so you were looking into his eyes

He told you he loved you, but there was certainly something more personal this time

But of course you were incredibly oblivious so you just grinned and said it back, not really thinking about it too much

Of course Asra knew you had missed the point, so when you went back to looking at the stars he propped himself up so he was leaning over you a bit and repeated it

This probably confused you a bit, but you said it back again, thinking that maybe this was some kind of game

He held back a laugh and tried again, this time putting more emphasis on the “love” part

You missed it, and repeated it back

At this point he was trying not to laugh, and knew that he had only one more try before he wouldn’t be able to hold it back

This time he tried explaining more thoroughly

He told you he loved you romantically; as in, a love that was more than platonic. Romantic, soulmate kind of love. Not friendship. Please get it this time.

Your mouth formed a perfect “o” as you finally got his point

For a brief moment, Asra felt relief, thinking that he had finally gotten his point across

Instead he received immediate and extreme panic as you quickly shoved him away. While screaming.

This certainly hadn’t gone as planned

He was desperately trying to calm you down while you rambled about every place you two had been on your trip, trying to locate a time where Asra could’ve been put under a love spell

Asra, of course, found this hilarious, and started laughing harder and harder while also trying to calm you down

This only caused you more distress, and soon there were tears streaming down your face while you tried to convince him that no, this wasn’t funny

He knew you were genuinely concerned about him, and he genuinely was trying to stop, but this had come out of nowhere and he didn’t really know how to respond either

Eventually, you both managed to calm down (but only the kind of calm where he would occasionally look at you and burst into giggles again)

He did his best- between giggle fits- to explain to you that he genuinely did love you and he definitely wasn’t under any spell

He told you that he had loved you for years, and that he always would

He also subtley pointed out that he had been flirting for years and you had just been completely oblivious

No confession would truly be complete without a bit of teasing

You probably felt a bit embarrassed, but he reassured you that it was just a part of your charm

Of course, you told him you felt the same, and the two of you went back to watching the stars, this time just a bit closer than before

From then on, not a whole lot changed in your relationship

The two of you were practically in a romantic relationship already, so really all that was different was a few more kisses and a slightly different intention behind the “I love you”s the two of you shared

#the arcana #the arcana headcanon #arcana #arcana headcanon #arcana hc #the arcana hc #Julian headcanon #Julian arcana #Julian Devorak #Julian x mc #Portia headcanon #Portia arcana #Portia devorak #Portia x mc #Lucio #count Lucio #lucio headcanon #lucio arcana #lucio x mc #muriel #Muriel arcana #muriel headcanon #muriel x mc #asra #asra arcana #asra alnazar #asra headcanon #asra x mc #sorry no Nadia :( #she’ll be in the next post

[conceptadecency]

For the WIP ask meme: "It ought to be illegal"?

The WIP ask meme!!! Still taking asks!

This fic is a little bit inspired by the last bit of @the-last-dillards' The Tunnel O'Love and Julian's cheeky behaviour in the Jeffreys tubes. In mine, Garak must accompany Julian through the station's maintenance ducts to solve yet another problem threatening their lives and all that, but is extremely distracted by the way Julian's uniform hugs his arse.

A sample:

And it’s dangerous, too. Distracting. Not to Garak, of course. His lifetime of training and experience render Garak well able to concentrate on the task at hand (a little station emergency that has compelled Garak and the doctor to make their way through the station’s maintenance ducts in order to take care of a particularly obnoxious biochemical surprise left by the station’s former occupants; yes they’d only have hours to live if nothing were done about it, but it’s s simple little trick. Something Garak could avert in his sleep if he had to). But not everyone is as disciplined! Really, Garak has heard the Federation Standard expression ‘fashion disaster’, and knows its facetious and hyperbolic meaning (Bashir, when left to dress himself, is often an example), but these shocking uniforms could cause a real fashion disaster. Have, no doubt. How many explosions have not been narrowly averted on Federation vessels because of suggestive, provocative clothing distracting personnel for a few critical seconds?

#WIP ask #ask meme #ds9 #garashir #julian's arse