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probably-iron-deficiency · 7 months

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Victim

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summary: More treasures than could fill a cave, more leisure than an oasis, more willing and able bodies than could fill a ravine, and Kalim would give it all up in a heartbeat to keep Jamil by his side. or, After Jamil's overblot, Kalim finds himself isolated in his home, reevaluating the only true friendship he's ever had. He should probably stay away from Jamil. He doesn't, and it's for the better.

✦pairing✦ JamiKali

✦CW✦ suicidal ideation, Kalim kills a guy but its for Jamil so-

✦tags✦ Introspection, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post Book 4, Pre-Slash

✦word count✦ 4k+

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄✧⋄⋆ fic below⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄

Jamil was right. Kalim was undeniably, in mind and soul, selfish.

His knife-sharp words had dug an open wound into Kalim which hadn’t stopped bleeding since his overblot. It had been two weeks since the event, and Kalim found himself back in his own home. After hearing reports of “magical abnormalities” at Scarabia, his parents had requested that Kalim and Jamil return home until the term started again. No one knew what had happened during winter break, and in perhaps the last unspoken bond between Jamil and Kalim, they would never find out. It had been five days since they had returned home, and he hadn’t seen Jamil once. The palace was big enough to never interact without arousing any suspicion. Kalim’s room was essentially its own luxury suite- he didn’t have to leave it, so he didn’t. The space felt large and empty without another’s presence, and Kalim was left to fill the void with the things Jamil had said.

With nearly a week of isolated thinking on it, Kalim knew that he was selfish. Maybe not in worldly things- he had enough of those to satisfy the greediest man a hundred lifetimes over. A verifiable army of people willing to flip themselves inside out just to get on the heir’s good side, allowing him to bypass any and all struggles that an average mortal might face. Of course, none of this was necessary: Kalim was nothing if not charitable, and despite the displeasure of the Asim treasurers, he was more than willing to give back where he could.

And Kalim didn’t want any of it.

More treasures than could fill a cave, more leisure than an oasis, more willing and able bodies than could fill a ravine, and Kalim would give it all up in a heartbeat to keep Jamil by his side. Maybe not physically- Kalim would never force Jamil to stay somewhere he hated (not that Kalim knew Jamil hated him until recently). His heart would be enough, wherever Jamil’s body was, his love would placate Kalim. Kalim wanted the one thing that wasn’t- couldn’t- be handed over to him, and despite his riches, he couldn’t let it go.

Kalim was selfish.

In all honesty, Kalim knew that somewhere, deep down, he knew what Jamil was doing to him before his overblot. He could’ve- should’ve- said something to Jamil, no matter how badly the conversation would’ve gone. But the idea of losing the only person that had ever only helped Kalim and never harmed, the only person that had ever stayed. Kalim, tactless, cemented excuses to his lash-line and greedily continued his blissful naivety.

He wished for a moment more of peace, and it had nearly cost him everything.

(It had nearly cost him Jamil.)

Kalim remembered a conversation he had with Azul when they were cast into the desert.

“He betrayed you, Kalim. Don’t you understand that? Aren’t you angry?”

Even now, weeks later, he wouldn’t call it a betrayal. It wasn’t fair to Jamil.

It would break Kalim.

Ah, perhaps he was being selfish even now. Perhaps Jamil had wanted to betray Kalim, wanted Kalim to actually boil into rage, give Jamil a decent opponent to pit his years of oppression against. Even this Kalim could not give him.

Kalim vouching for Jamil did nothing to nullify the brutal whisperings of the Scarabia students. Some lamented Kalim’s inefficiency, his spinelessness in being controlled by Jamil in the first place and his continued failure to remove Jamil from his post. Others, less scared of the potential recoil from the vice-housewarden, spoke of Jamil as a ruthless dark magician. An insignificant, ungrateful moon that stole its light from the ever generous sun.

Kalim had heard worse rumors about himself, and figured the students were entitled to their opinions. (He knew Jamil had heard worse about himself, too, and that he probably didn’t care about the ramblings of some third-rate underclassmen).

(No one but Jamil’s opinion mattered, anyways.)

It had been a… vaguely mutual decision to cut contact as much as possible after Jamil’s overblot. No longer bound by his facade of complacency, Jamil had made it very clear very quickly that he had no intention of looking after Kalim for the time being. Kalim didn’t mind that, really. He wanted Jamil to do what made him happy, and if seeing Kalim as little as possible made up for years of Kalim’s blindness to his feelings, then Kalim would gladly oblige.

(Secretly, Kalim felt as though he had been ripped in two- his only lifeline to real, truthful connection severed. He barely slept, barely spoke, barely moved. Sometimes, when the moon shone clearly overhead, Kalim would sit on the balcony, legs dangling 14 stories over the Asim gardens, and wonder if it would’ve been better for Jamil if Kalim had just gone along with his plan and died. Jamil wouldn’t do anything for Kalim that he wasn’t obliged to do by familial pressure- Kalim knew that now. But Kalim would do anything for Jamil. Right now, if Jamil were to knock on his door and ask him to slit his own throat, Kalim would be dead before he hit the floor. If only Jamil would ask something of him.

Dizzily, he wondered if the scented candles Jamil used to light for his baths looked forward to being used.)

Despite their lack of contact, Kalim still heard a knock on his door twice a day. Outside would be freshly cooked food, sealed in containers with a tamper-proof charm in place. Kalim clung to these moments like no other, even though Jamil was always gone by the time he got to the door.

Jamil wanted to be left alone; it was obvious. After spending almost 17 years of your life with someone you despised, of course you wouldn’t want to see them. When school started up again, it would be harder for Jamil to avoid Kalim- as Housewarden and Vice of Scarabia, there would be no end to the amount of time they would be forced to be together. Especially since Kalim was, admittedly, useless at his leadership duties without Jamil as his loyal advisor.

But Kalim was selfish.

5 days was the longest he had ever gone without seeing Jamil. Not a single soul had come to check on him in his near week of being home, not that Kalim blamed them for that. It was Jamil’s job to check on him, supposedly. (On the second day, Kalim realized it never should have been his job. He never should have been forced to be Kalim’s servant in body and friend in words- it was only time before he became Kalim’s enemy in mind.)

Fleetingly, he wondered how many days it would take someone to stumble upon his body if he died here. He wondered if, in the end, it would be Jamil who found him.

Kalim, alone in his room, was unraveling at the seams.

He wanted to see Jamil. He needed to see Jamil, make sure he was still ok. Make sure, even if childishly, that he still existed outside of Kalim’s view. Just a glimpse of him would be enough- it was late, if Jamil’s ironclad routine still held true, he would be asleep. It would be quick.

Kalim was so, truly, selfish.

Smooth, cool stone chilled Kalim’s bare feet as he padded lightly through the hall. The estate was built to ward off heat, and a brisk night breeze came through the paneless windows, palm leaves swaying in the wind. He shivered, pulling his arms closer to his chest. Jamil would chide him for walking around in pajamas in the middle of the night. He would have, anyway.

Luckily for him, Jamil’s room was not too far from Kalim's own. When they were around 10 years old, it was decided that Jamil would stay in suites designated for higher ranking members of the Asim family rather than the servant residences where his own family lived. Officially, the reasoning was that Jamil had been such a loyal retainer to his young master Asim that he was being rewarded with lavish living conditions. At the time, Kalim was just thrilled to be closer to his best friend- they could have sleepovers practically every night! Now though, Kalim wondered if Jamil was moved closer to his room just so he could serve him better, protect him more easily if someone were to stage an attack. Did Jamil even want to move out of his family’s home, back then? Did he cry when his parents told him he had to leave, or did he just accept it apathetically, resigned to his life sentence? Kalim wasn’t sure which was worse.

At the expense of a 10 year old Jamil, a 17 year old Kalim easily traced the dark path between their rooms, expertly dodging open windows and lights shining from the rooms of those who had not yet gone to sleep or had just woken up. It would be better for everyone if he wasn’t seen.

Kalim slowed as he approached the door, muscle memory guiding him directly in front of it. He paused, breathing deeply. Jamil’s senses were needle sharp after years of guarding Kalim, he would have to be exceedingly careful if he didn’t want Jamil to wake up and notice him. Somewhat ironically, Kalim’s own senses were sharp, if not sharper, than Jamil’s; attuned to hearing even the slightest changes in footsteps or the faintest smell in a freshly prepared dish. 17 years of protecting someone, no matter how you felt about them, would hone your abilities to react, defend, fight. 17 years of expecting to be murdered, even if you were known as an unbearably loud person, would allow you to nearly disappear.

Kalim’s nose twitched, a peculiar scent drifting from the room. Sharp, almost as if someone had made sparks from sanding down metal, but capped with something more heavy. Magic.

It would be near imperceptible to the average mage, but Kalim was on par with beastmen when it came to his uncanny ability to identify things by scent. Normally, he would expect this smell to be close to other practicing magic users, especially if they were back at Night Raven, with students laboriously practicing spells over and over until they had worn themselves out.

But didn’t overblotting stop you from using magic normally for a few weeks? Kalim remembered Leona using his own overblot as an excuse to get out of Housewarden duties, citing his unpredictable magic as “too dangerous” to do work. Even Riddle had taken some time off after his overblot, much to the surprise of Kalim. When he asked Riddle about it a few days after he returned, Riddle explained that overblotting would leave the victim, no matter how strong they were, in a very weakened state afterwards, before he had quickly changed the subject.

Kalim squinted. Something wasn’t adding up.

Silently, he took another step forward. The uncomfortably familiar smell of molten copper burned Kalim’s nostrils, and he clutched his hand to his face to stop himself from coughing.

No. Jamil must have cut himself on something, or maybe his wounds from the battle reopened. But then, why the thick scent of magic that clogged his sinuses the closer he moved to the door? Jamil shouldn’t be able to do magic like that right now, not without risking himself. It was 3 in the morning, what would he even be doing?

Something moved sharply in Kalim’s peripheral, and his eyes quickly followed the movement. From under Jamil’s door, lit by the moon, shadows danced mockingly at Kalim.

Nauseous, he recalled a conversation overheard a few years prior. Kalim, looking for Jamil, had overheard him talking to someone. Not wanting to intrude, Kalim had waited behind a large stone pillar until an “appropriate” time made itself available. Accidentally, he began to eavesdrop.

“I’m lucky they only go after Kalim.”

“Jamil! Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not? It’s true, Najma. It’s a good thing most of his kidnappers are as stupid as they are shortsighted.”

“What do you mean?”

“If they take Kalim, someone will just go and save him, taking them out in the process. Me? I’m not worth the manpower. The Asims would pay the ransom and wouldn’t send anyone to investigate… I’m curious to see what I’d be worth, though.”

Kalim had soundlessly fled the scene, imploring himself to forget what he had just heard. When Jamil found him in his room hours later, he either didn’t notice or didn’t care to ask about Kalim’s red-rimmed eyes and blotchy face.

Surely not. Kalim crept forward. Surely the world would not be as cruel as to force Jamil to suffer further, not after he had nearly perished for simply wanting to be free. He held his breath, hand reaching for the cool brass of the doorknob. Surely he was simply over-tired- anxious from days of solitude away from Jamil’s watchful eyes. Slowly, he turned the knob. The door was unlocked.

The world had never been particularly kind to them, had it.

A horrible portrait invaded his sight, lit like a silhouette. Jamil, looking smaller than Kalim had ever seen him, struggled fruitlessly in the grasp of a horrifically muscled man. His hair had been ripped out of its careful braids, arms bent at an unnatural angle. Blood trickled like satin down the side of him, and the smirking man held a silver, red-stained dagger at his throat.

Time seemed to slow as two pairs of eyes locked on Kalim’s intrusion. Quickly, he realized a few things. 1) The man was unmasked, meaning his plan was to grab Jamil and leave as quickly as possible without being seen. 2) His towering physique confirmed this- assassins tended to be slimmer, more agile, needing only to slip through a window and take out their prey. This was a bruiser more commonly seen in the market’s alleyways than infiltrating the estate, Kalim was more than familiar with his type. Their goal was simply to take, not kill, by any violent means necessary. 3) Even in Jamil’s weakened, magicless state, the intruder hadn’t bothered to use any spells himself to make the job easier. He wasn’t a mage.

Kalim’s heart beat loudly in his ears, drowning out the surrounding sound. No one moved, the struggle frozen in a fragile state of shock. Kalim’s eyes flitted to Jamil’s face, taking in the sight of him. His mouth was hidden behind one of the large hands of his attacker, but his eyes met with Kalim’s.

For the first time in 17 years, Jamil’s gaze stared back at him with fear.

“Don’t move, little rich boy, and your servant will be just fine.” The man smirked. “What’s one of these, anyways? You have hundreds, I’m sure you’ll be fine until we get our money’s worth.”

Kalim used to vomit after Jamil saved him, hands still bloody from whatever sad battle had played out. He stopped getting nauseous after the 5th time it happened. After a year, he only found himself worried about the state of Jamil, carefully checking him over for any cuts or scrapes.

Jamil had killed for Kalim countless times, under instruction. Kalim wasn’t sure if Jamil would kill for him under different circumstances. But Kalim would do anything for Jamil.

A tidal wave of emotion battered the rocky cliffs of his mind. The ever-present naivety that had been hairline fracturing for a lifetime, held together only by the fear of nihilism was chipping, cracking. Slabs of his principles and boulders of his morals crashed into the white-capped water of his soul, forming a whirlpool that churned and pulled.

Freezing cold something pulsed through his body.

Terror. Rage. Love.

In a flash, magic poured out of him, glinting like razor blades under the light of the moon. Deadly fast, it crashed into its target.

The man holding Jamil froze, the muscles in his arms tensing violently. Kalim cricked his neck, and the intruder fell sideways, staring at the young heir in shock. Suddenly, he coughed. And coughed, and kept coughing, hands grasping futilely at his own throat as he began to choke up water, fresh and clear. His writhing gave way to desperate pleads.

“Plea-ugh. Mer- mercy.” He gasped in between breaths.

The tempest of Kalim’s soul sneered. Mercy? What mercy had they ever given him? What mercy had they given Jamil? There was no answer, and the ocean rose again.

Vessels burst in the man’s face, quickly overtaken by the mounting pressure within his body. His tears flowed equal parts blood and water and his eyes bulged from his skull like an unfortunate fish drawn too quickly from the depths.

In hindsight, it was almost too quick.

The man let out a final wheeze, perhaps a scream if his lungs hadn’t already burst, and his bloated corpse fell uselessly to the floor.

His life, like poetry, spilled into cool stone.

Kalim stood, fists clenched hard enough to draw blood, body thrumming with the aftershocks of his magic. It seemed fitting that the most powerful storm he ever summoned was one for Jamil alone.

Jamil.

Kalim rushed forward, gathering Jamil in his arms. The latter breathed harshly, wincing as his injured arm was moved. Kalim shut his eyes, willing the reserves of his magic to come to the surface. He muttered enchantments as he skimmed his fingers across Jamil’s skin, wounds knitting themselves slowly back together. He would still need to be tended to by a proper physician, but healing magic was instinctual, and known to grow stronger with intent… Jamil would be safely in the clear, if not a little uncomfortable.

A hush fell over them as Kalim finished his work. Normally, after Jamil had protected him from someone (killed someone for Kalim), Kalim would try to fill the silence by chatting about some inane thing. Whether or not Jamil responded was besides the point- he just wanted to let Jamil know he felt safe, even if the words he spoke fell on deaf ears.

This felt different, somehow, and Kalim for once found himself with nothing to say. Instead, he allowed himself to focus on the sound of Jamil’s steady breathing- clear airways, no major injuries, no lingering scent of poison. Kalim had learned to appreciate this single comfort: the calm after a storm, and the two of them safe on the beach.

“Kalim.” Jamil’s voice was somewhat gravely, most likely from being choked. Kalim gripped Jamil’s shoulder tighter.

“Jamil, are you feeling alright?”

“You made sure of that.” He huffed, and Kalim felt the contents of his stomach churn anxiously. He couldn’t think of something to say, so he didn’t.

“Kalim. That man…”

“He’s dead.”

“Ah…” Jamil coughed weakly, body shuddering against Kalim’s. Kalim watched silently as the last of Jamil’s cuts sealed themselves up.

“Your braids came undone.”

Jamil shifted against him, and Kalim paused to see if he would turn to face him. He didn’t.

“It takes a long time to do them, right?” He nodded without responding.

Gently, Kalim allowed his fingers to brush through the ends of Jamil’s long hair. How long had it been since he’d touched it? Since they were kids, maybe. Since Jamil was forced to lower himself to Kalim, and stopped allowing Kalim to do anything for him.

Brushing back a section over Jamil’s shoulder, Kalim began to weave patterns into his hair, the night breeze working against his progress.

Kalim’s hands were not shaking, and Jamil’s breath didn’t hitch, breaking the silence as he cried.

~~~~~

“Kalim, your food is getting cold.” Jamil sighed, folding up some of Kalim’s school shirts.

“Sorry, Jamil. I’m not that hungry.” Kalim gazed out the window, halfheartedly stirring his cup of tea.

“It’ll be a waste if it goes off.”

Kalim was lost in thought, the familiarity of the situation somehow off putting. It had been one full day since Jamil’s attempted kidnapping, and one hour since Jamil had knocked on Kalim’s door, waking him up for the morning with breakfast in hand. Kalim wouldn’t lie, a part of him was absolutely thrilled to have Jamil back taking care of him. The longest week of Kalim’s life had come to a close, in theory it would be easy to simply return to their normal routine. After all, they would return to Night Raven in 2 days time- it would be better to go back to how they were.

In the past, Kalim would gladly take this opportunity without a second glance. But now, knowing what he knew about how Jamil felt… Did he want to? Was a facade of subservience and friendship truly better than the truth?

Kalim knew now that he didn’t have to work for most of the things in his life- they’d all been handed to him without his knowledge. He knew now that those achievements were frail and paper thin, and the happiness he had paraded was one of the fingers that had strangled Jamil’s freedom. Maybe if Kalim worked for the things he cared about just a little more, they wouldn’t disappear like an illusion in his grasp.

“Jamil?”

“What is it?” He didn’t look over, continuing to pack away Kalim’s clothes. Kalim took a breath, letting the spoon rest in his now cold tea.

“We need to talk.” Jamil halted his work.

“About?”

Kalim stood, walking over to stand behind Jamil.

“All of…” Kalim gestured around, “This. Everything.” Us.

Jamil resumed, walking to Kalim’s closet and pulling out more of his uniforms, expertly avoiding eye contact.

“I suppose it was only a matter of time.” Kalim blinked.

“For what?”

“You know for what. Look, I’m not gonna tell you I’m sorry about what I did to you, because I’m not. School’s starting in a couple days anyways, and you’ll have forgotten all about my overblot-”

“Your overblot?”

Finally, Jamil turned to face him.

“Obviously. Don’t worry, once we’re back at school we’ll go back to normal anyways, I’ll take care of everything.” Jamil rolled his eyes, but Kalim could tell he was hiding something. Kalim clenched his fists.

“No.”

“What?” He raised his eyebrow, looking incredulously at Kalim.

“No, I,” Kalim was overtaken by a resounding urge. Jamil, in all his genius, didn’t even know what Kalim was talking about. He had to make it clear now, no matter the consequences.

“I don’t care about your overblot, Jamil! I mean- I care, I care about you, I care about how you were feeling so bad so quietly that you had no choice but to self destruct- but not in the way that maybe I should. I’m not- I haven’t been angry at you. I’m scared.” Kalim’s eyes welled up with tears, and he steadfastly ignored them.

“It was bad enough to lose you as my closest friend. But the other night I almost lost you for real. All for what, because you have to protect me? Because I’m stupid and naive and all that other stuff you said? Because I’m an Asim?” Kalim’s chest heaved, and he brought his arm up to hide his face and avoid looking at Jamil’s.

Jamil was silent, and Kalim didn’t want to imagine what sort of expression he was making.

“What happened the other night wasn’t your fault. You know how those guys are, they could’ve gone after anyone. It’s all money to them.” Jamil’s voice was slow and steady, and Kalim tried to cling to it.

“It was my fault, though! If people weren’t always coming after me, you would’ve been safe!”

“You can’t help who you were born to, Kalim.” He chuckled humorlessly, “And neither can I.”

Maybe, at some point earlier in his life, Kalim would have accepted that. They were both simply filling their roles, an heir and a servant, both seemingly content with their positions. Kalim would eventually take over the family business with Jamil at his side, and maybe they could live in some sort of amicable facade with a want for nothing. But Kalim, given everything, wanted none of it.

“I would give up my name for you, Jamil. I would give up everything.” He took a step closer, forcing Jamil to look at him.

“I would give you everything.”

For once, Jamil looked at a loss for words. Silver eyes filled with an emotion that Kalim couldn’t quite read, and his lips parted as if he were going to speak. No sound came out, and Kalim looked away.

“I’m sorry.” Kalim spoke unnaturally quietly. “For everything.”

A moment passed, and Kalim began to turn away. Suddenly, Kalim felt himself pulled into a hug. Jamil brought him close, arms wound tightly around his back and waist. Kalim gasped softly, immediately relaxing with Jamil’s touch. He brought his arms around Jamil, and took the chance to listen to his heartbeat. When was the last time Jamil had hugged him, and not the other way around? Had it ever happened? Kalim didn’t know.

“We’re not friends.”

Kalim smiled weakly into Jamil’s chest in spite of himself.

“Ok.”

“I won't baby you anymore- you need to learn how to do things for yourself.”

“That’s fine.”

“But if what you said about us being rivals or equals or whatever is true, then you have a long way to go.”

Oh.

“You have a lot to learn if you want to even get close to catching up. I won’t hold back.” Then, quieter. “Guess I have to stick around to see if you can do it.”

Kalim smiled, and he felt more alive than he had in almost a week.

“I won’t let you down, Jamil.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst fic #kalim al asim #jamil viper #jamil x kalim #twisted wonderland fics #guys we need to have more kalim introspection #im so serious right now him and jamil have endless angst potential.#tragic lovers #in themselves and together #but theyre all eachother has #like do you think you get almost murdered for your entire life and have your one safe person betray you and you stay mentally WELL???#angst with a happy ending #twisted wonderland angst

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floral-poisons · 2 years

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Can you do a headcannons of leona, vil, cater, malleus and floyd reacting to their crush (gn!reader) being confessed to the day they also planned to confess? Reader rejects the first confessor but they don't know that LOL. Also your blog was what made me start falling for Vil!

hi anon!! i'm so happy my vil agenda is being so successful!! i am an avid vil lover and i can understand why people wouldn't like him, but i think we all need a vil in our lives sometimes. i know he would make me get my shit together (and then rook would help too).

thankfully angst is my specialty according to the anons telling me i love angst~

also i kind of want more like...introspective cater (and in general more of his cards like come on stop avoiding me, him and kalim man). like his groovy ceremonial robes is kind of refreshing and like a peek behind the mask. anyways he’s probably the character i would write the most angst for if i had unlimited writing energy. can you guys tell i’m starting to become a simp for cater?

honestly though i can definitely turn these into like full fics for full elaboration on the characters and the aftermath of the miscommunication.

curious about part two? read it here!! (ft. malleus, cater, and vil)

MALLEUS DRACONIA

malleus has been around for a bit. he’s watched people come and go, most notably humans. humans had the lack of longevity that fae had. but there was one human he didn’t want to see fade away: you.

the time you two spent had caused him to grow fond of you. sometimes you two would hang out late into the night and he’d come back to a very worried sebek, telling malleus that he should’ve told him he was going to come back late.

he had plans to confess. and great seven, he went through a lot of work for this confession. he even wrote and memorized a speech for you which went through lilia first.

“ah, young love. it’s been a while since i helped with a confession.” the old man chuckles. “though you have quite the romantic touch malleus. and all for (y/n)...”

malleus would make sure he would not become tongue tied when professing his romantic affection to you. but then again, you always made him tongue tied. you were the only human that could.

he remembered you under the moonlight. your skin glowed and the wind gentle blew against your hair and clothes. you looked ethereal, like a divine being who was only meant to be here temporarily. you’d disappear like the cherry blossoms.

the two of you were going to go to a show held by the pop music club. you hadn’t forgotten to invite him. you would never forget to invite him. and he was going to confess afterwards. he had everything planned out in his head. and every time he thought about the possible end results, a dreamy smile crossed his face.

surely, you’d reciprocate. right?

his footsteps were silent as he approached you from the distance. and yet, he froze seeing someone come up to you.

it was another diasomnia student. they were still wearing their school uniform as they approached you. and he could hear them. he felt his heart drop to his stomach. “(y/n)...i really like you. you’re quite interesting for a human you know. and i would like to get to know you better.”

he turned around and began walking away. he needed to be alone for a bit as he felt his heart beat increase and his hands shake. of course it made sense. why choose him when you could have someone who was normal? a normal citizen? someone who wasn’t revered? there was a lot less hassle to handle.

he could only collapse on his bed in his dorm. you’d say yes. and then you two would start dating...and he would be on the sidelines, watching. maybe you would be the type to prioritize a partner over your friends. he would become uninvited. it would be gradual, slow.

the idea of loneliness settled in his mind and he felt his eyes begin to tear up thinking about wandering without you. why did he have the sudden urge to cry? it’s not like you were together. it was unfair of him to have the expectation that you’d say yes. it was selfish of him. he let himself get carried away.

the great malleus draconia has fallen.

CATER DIAMOND

confessing...it couldn’t be harder than forming a caption. they were similar in that way. it had to be meaningful, short and sweet. that was the best confession wasn’t it?

you had seen sides of cater that no one else has really seen. you’ve seen him frown and be upset and lose his happy-go-lucky persona that everyone loves on magicam. that was the curse of social media, you guess.

today was particularly special. he was going to confess. you were his rock, his anchor. you got him through those episodes of depression that just...really made him not want to leave his bed or room.

he even measured out the sides of his diamond with his makeup. and he did it in black compared to his normal red. you told him the black one looked really good on him during halloween and that he should do it more often.

his heart swelled at the thought of confessing to you. and it swelled even more when he thought of the potential feelings you could reciprocate. he felt his cheeks heat up thinking about taking you on a date.

he would make sure to treat you like the royalty you are.

night had fallen and he was walking over to your meeting spot. the two of you had decided to attend the movie screening hosted by the film appreciation club. they were airing a rom-com tonight. funny right?

you came into his line of sight and again, cater’s heart swelled. you looked so good tonight even if you were in your normal clothes. there was a skip in his step as he began to close the distance between you two.

and then it all fell apart.

someone approached you. they were still in their uniform. octavinelle. he couldn’t hear what they said. but he could read their lips. “i like you a lot (y/n). and i have since i first met you. do you wanna sit with me at the movie screening?”

what was he thinking? he was in over his head! you wouldn’t choose him. why would you? he had so many problems underneath the surface. he was broken. you were stressed out. and he would add to that stress. why would you choose someone as broken as cater diamond?

he turned around and ran. you didn’t notice him because the sudden confession from your classmate shocked you and you had been on your phone before, scrolling through cater’s magicam. you contemplated if you should confess your affection for him tonight during the movie.

cater had to catch his breath. he had ran back to his dorm and into the rose maze. here there was solitude and he would be left alone. the two of you spent a lot of time here. he felt his heart squeeze with pain.

“these roses are half painted...riddle’s going to be irritated in the morning.” he sighed. he put his phone up and activated the camera, positioning himself in front of the roses. he smile his signature smile and gestured to the roses. once he took a few pictures, his smile turned into a frown as he picked which one to post to magicam.

Found these half painted roses! Heartslabyul, you know that’s not how we do it! #FirstYearMistakes #InTheZone #DoItMyself

VIL SCHOENHEIT

he had a plan. it was a very meticulous plan that he made sure to optimize. making sure you were free? check. making sure it would during a time where you two could be private? check.

he had to look his best today too. he needed to make sure he looked worthy enough for your affection!

“you got this.” he smiled in the mirror. “confidence is key!” but why was he so nervous? he shouldn’t have been. you two have been friends for a while now and he was certain that you liked him back. rook had approved of the plan.

it was obvious that vil had a crush on you to rook. why wouldn’t vil have a crush on you? you were just gorgeous to look at. you had a glow to yourself that was only yours. and he was smitten by that glow. he was smitten by you.

you spent time with him, ran with him. you even helped him practice dancing and his singing so he could prepare for competitions. you went shopping with him and gave your honest opinion when most people would rather sugarcoat and get on his good side. he despised that. but he didn’t despise you.

a lot of things could go wrong though. life was unpredictable. and you were a noticeable presence at school. people were bound to cause his plan to unfold. but vil had faith. he had complete faith.

his plan seemed to be going well. he found you in the cafeteria and was ready to approach you.

vil stopped in his heels upon seeing another student in front of you, talking to you. he overheard what the student said.

“i like you (y/n). and i was hoping that you’d be my date to the yearly carnival?” the savanaclaw student looked nervous

a sudden pang rammed its way through his heart. he felt his hand begin to shake slightly. and he felt speechless. all his confidence from earlier completely shattered and collapsed.

you’d say yes without a doubt. a savanaclaw student was asking you out. and you had told vil your general preference were athletes. and well...guess which dorm was full of them.

vil cleared his throat and turned around, walking away. his heels clicked along to the hurt beat of his heart.

he never stood a chance, did he?

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

it wasn’t like him to put this much effort into something. but this wasn’t school. this was his personal life. and that involved you. you were the special thing in his life.

for weeks now, leona has been contemplating on how to confess to you. he had fallen for you. hard too.

ruggie often teased him from how noticeably sheepish leona got when you were around and how leona put in extra effort to see you, talk to you, hold your hand even.

he walked you to class, got lunch for you, woke up early just to see you in the morning. he even went with you on errands which gave him a much more intimate look at you and vice versa.

leona didn’t have a plan. he would wing it once he found you and asked to talk to you in private.

after all, the best words would be words from the heart.

the bell of your final class had rung. you were helping put stuff away after your potionology lab. and leona decided this would be the perfect chance to confess.

except someone had beat him.

“(y/n) i...i really like you! i like you a lot! you’re brave and you’re funny and...would you go out with me?” the student professed.

he saw the dorm logo on the sleeve of the lab coat. pomefiore. you always said you had a thing for people that kept up beauty regiments and were more put together. which was...different from him.

what had he been thinking? you? choose him? someone from pomefiore had the ambition that he lacked. they were more put together than him. they were flawless. and he was full of flaws. why settle for him? you deserved better. you didn’t deserve someone as subpar as him.

leona couldn’t help but turn away from the two of you, blocking out any other noise as he quickly put away what he needed. he swiftly walked away, needing to change. he could feel tears beginning to form in his eyes. “stupid, stupid, stupid.” he mutters.

why did he even put in effort?

FLOYD LEECH

floyd was an unpredictable student. a lot of students feared him because of his mood swings. but for some odd reason, he was quite stable with you. you saw a stable floyd. you were aware of his mood swings. but something about you calmed him and allowed him to be leveled.

he thought he would scare you when you first met. there was nothing better than intimidating newbies. and yet you just looked up at him, smiled, and said he was very tall and it reminded you of your younger brother back home (it wasn’t fair how you were the shorter child even though you were older).

that quickly made him nosedive into falling for you.

you were bold, honest, straightforward. you wouldn’t handle other people’s bullshit which is probably why you dealt with overblots so well. “i just wanted to pass midterms and relax! and now i have to deal with your overblotted ass!” is what you had yelled at azul after he overblotted.

your boldness was just...so fucking hot. he felt his face become red every time he witnessed it. it was just...divine.

it was an impulse decision to confess to you. he had just finished basketball practice with ace and jamil. jamil was surprised today because floyd had been playing rather gentle compared to his usual competitive fervor. the moray’s head was filled of thoughts about you, not basketball.

he found you at the mostro lounge, sitting alone and looking at the menu. you were contemplating what to eat. floyd knew what you would order. it would be your favorite meal. you were consistent and predictable.

life however? not so much. life was more like floyd.

he was going to walk over, but someone else approached your table. it was a dude from heartslabyul. his pale face was completely red. and floyd could hear words he didn’t want to hear.

“(y/n)! i...i really like you! and i...will you go on a date with me?” you were surprised. this was...not expected. and in public too. why were men so bold? why did men have the audacity?

floyd angrily scoffed and turned around, walking away. he felt his body get hot with anger. but after a few minutes, it dissipated. what’s to stop you from saying no? why would you say yes to floyd anyways? he was unstable, unpredictable. this other dude was probably predictable and stable. he was foolish to think that?

“fuck...maybe azul has some first years acting ridiculous so i can squeeze them.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #pomefiore #heartslabyul #diasomnia #octavinelle #savanaclaw #vil schoenheit #malleus draconia #cater diamond #leona kingscholar #floyd leech

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traumxrei-archive · 2 years

Text

【 it's been a long, long time 】

author's note: the ask that started it all. i'm not even gonna deny it anymore, i lost, i love jamil viper sm, i brainrot about him daily, i wrote a fic for him, even- for the full experience, put on this song when you get to That Part of the fic (you'll know when you get there hehe) enjoyyy <33

characters: gn! prefect, jamil viper, the viper family

word count: 2.8k

tags: family dinner with the vipers!, childhood memories :'))), jamil introspection bc i angst for this man, yearning, who doesn't love yearning ?, literal slow dancing in the dark, kissing. i- yes.

[ read it on ao3 for the kicks ! ]

Under the guiding light of the moon, they stared at their boyfriend— Jamil Viper’s back; who was very adamantly leading them away from the ruckus his family was making. They just had a lovely dinner with the Vipers, at Jamil's bashful request. They knew his family was busy. But Jamil had come home for the first time in a while, and he brought his partner? They wouldn't have missed it for the world, they claimed!

Throughout the dinner they tried to ignore as Najma kept sending Jamil subtle looks, clearly teasing her older brother. It was kind of funny seeing Jamil frown so outwardly for once, and even funnier watching him nudge Najma in the ribs whenever her comments got a little too loud for his liking.

His parents, meanwhile, had resorted to telling them all about how Jamil was as a child. "He was such a sweet child! He and Lord Kalim used to..." or "Remember that time when he tried to ride a bicycle because Lord Kalim wanted to learn..." or "Ah, that time he entered a competition and won second place next to Lord Kalim..."

Jamil had completely pulled the hood over his head when that had started, no doubt hiding the furious blush raging across his face. They were half-tempted to reach over and pull the hood back, just to see the startled expression on their boyfriend's face. (But they knew he would’ve glared at them if they did, so they refrained.)

But the one thing they noticed was that...his parents couldn't help but mention Kalim all the time. As they were talking about Jamil, praises for the Al-Asim family and the "master" that Jamil served fell from their lips naturally. So naturally, in fact, they couldn't help the stab of disappointment they felt as they kept listening.

Now it was clear to them that no matter how much they loved him, Jamil's wants and needs were always going to be second to their collective duty as the Al-Asim's retainers. They loved him, yet somehow they valued their honor more. Still, they couldn't deny that they were lovely people despite their faults.

As soon as the intention to help clean up after dinner left their lips, Jamil was pulling them away from the table. Jamil's dad chuckled, a deep baritone, picking up all the plates before they could make a grab for them.

"There's no way we would let a guest help out with the chores, little one," Jamil's mom had scolded lightly, giving them a pat on the shoulder.

"I'm sure that Jamil is dying to have you to himself," Najma said, a sweet smile behind her teasing words. "So you guys should go!"

They didn't even get a chance to reply before Jamil was dragging them away. Which brought them back to the present. The hallways were quiet, save for the rustling of their movements. Jamil's hand is warm against theirs as they pass by identical hallways that he must know by heart, the silence a comforting weight against their shoulders.

After a lengthy walk, Jamil finally stopped in front of a door, turning towards them, "Would you like to open it?" They nodded, unsure of what was happening before opening the door.

It opened with a loud creak, startling a squeak out of the Prefect before they stepped inside. There was a bed in the corner, propped underneath a large window overlooking the courtyard below. Slivers of moonlight illuminate the rest of the room: the small, cramped desk, the bookshelf and dresser in one corner, and the framed photos scattered across the wall.

Oh, they realize belatedly. This was Jamil's room. The very one that he must've had since he was a little boy.

They don't dare to take another step, watching as Jamil's hands nursed a lantern to life; its intricate patterns sprawling like spiderwebs across the walls of the darkened room. He sat down on the floor, beckoning them to join him.

"Everything's still the same," His voice was wistful— a mere whisper carried by the cool night breeze; a relieving contrast to the scalding daytime heat.

They sat next to him, watching as he searched for something under his bed. His expression shifted to one seemingly of delight as he found something. Of all the things that he could've been searching for, they didn't expect him to pull out a gramophone. He fixed the horn onto the machine, while they picked up a pair of dated headphones from the box.

"This was where all my amusement would come from when I was younger," Jamil flicked through the many records lined up in the box– truly a treasure trove hidden under his bed. "I remember haggling for these in the markets as I ran my errands. They were stubborn old men, but they never led me astray with music. If they said something was good, it was."

The Prefect couldn't help but chuckle, "Still the same as ever, I see." Their voice was softer than they would've liked, the words lined with the fondness they had in their heart for the one in front of them.

Yet they couldn't help but remember the stereo that Jamil kept in his room back at the Scarabia dorms, a pair of newer headphones attached to it; always. And they had seen the countless DVDs that Jamil had painstakingly collected, all pawned from different shops in the little town at Sage Island.

"Old habits die hard," Jamil's movements were like clockwork as he flipped a record in his hand, sweeping off the dust as he slid it into place.

The gramophone came to life as he moved the needle into place. A simple adjustment to the volume, and there was the sound of a lilting trumpet, accompanied by violins and instruments that they couldn't name filling the room.

Jamil stood as the trumpets kept on, "Come on, Prefect. Dance with me?" With his outstretched hand and such an unguarded expression, they knew there was little Jamil Viper couldn't squander away from them at that moment.

They stood, stumbling over their feet already as Jamil pulled them into a slow swing, "I-I'm not very good at this..."

A huff that sounded like laughter brushed against their cheek as Jamil pulled them close, "It doesn't matter. Let loose. Feel the music." They grasped Jamil's arm and shoulder as Jamil led them around the room.

It startled them when a lady's voice started to croon over the instruments, meeting Jamil's eyes. There was an unabashedly star-struck look on his face, one that could reduce them to a puddle of embarrassment if they let it. Instead, they leveled his stare, even as the voice sang sweet nothings into the air between them.

Jamil spun them gently, prying a laugh from their lips as he drew them back into his embrace. He hummed along as she sang, and they vaguely wondered what Jamil sounded like when he sang. (But that was a thought for another time.)

"Distracted?" He asked as the voice pandered out and the trumpets picked up once again.

"By you, yeah," The Prefect replied, smiling at the way Jamil's shoulders jumped slightly. They were endlessly amused by how simple words could startle such an unshakable person.

He retaliated by suddenly shifting his weight, causing them to fall— right into a dip, "What a tease you are." Their heart had leaped into their throat, grip tightening on his sleeves. He seemed amused by that, his eyes creasing at the corners.

They huffed as Jamil tugged them up, causing them to fall into him more, "You're the one that asked."

As the orchestra joined in, their steps slowed, until they were shuffling; mere centimeters separating them. They couldn't take their eyes off him. That look was still on his face, even as his gaze flicked down to their lips. Then back up to their face and back down once again. They stayed locked in an embrace, even as the song faded out into a crackle. It was like he was waiting— for some instruction or permission that he was allowed to do something—

They finally found their voice, lips parting, "You should take the song's advice." Their mouth felt dry as Jamil's expression shifted.

A raised eyebrow, clearly a challenge, "And what advice is that, exactly?"

They had a lump in their throat as they recalled the melody; shaky voice fumbling over the words, "Kiss me once, and kiss me twice, then kiss me once again..."

They were immediately met with lips capturing their own; in a kiss so raw and tumultuous. Their knees quivered yet Jamil held them firm, kissing them with so much fervor it almost left them scalded. Jamil, Jamil, Jamil, their mind repeated, abandoning all thoughts that weren't of him, because he was— beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. They pushed back with the same intensity, not wanting to lose when they knew they felt that same feeling of desperation rushing through their veins at that very moment

He pulled away for a short moment before pressing a second kiss against their lips; though this time unhurried and gentle. They place a caress on his hair, the ornaments clinking as they smoothed a hand over his braids. How they wished they could have him like this forever.

A sigh against their lips made their skin tingle as he pulled away a second time. He leaned in one last time, this time pressing a lingering peck against their lips.

"...It's been a long, long time," His voice was hoarse as he sang his reply, yet it was the most lovely thing they had ever heard. They were sure there was a dopey smile on their face as they admired him, their beautiful lover, under the sparse lantern light.

But something distracted him too quickly, and he opened his mouth, "I should take you back to your room. It's already this late, and I'm sure you'd like to sleep." Ah. He had been relaxed all this time, and now he finally remembered his "position." They almost frowned at the thought of this mood being ruined by something that didn’t ever matter to them.

There was no going around the question, so they asked one of their own, "You want me to leave?"

"That's..."

They knew it was a loaded question. One that Jamil wouldn't be able to answer. But they could wait— for an answer that wasn't something so textbook, as expected of him since he was younger. They could wait however long it took for an answer that was simply his.

"I'd like it if you stayed," Jamil's words rushed out hurriedly. "I mean...would you stay with me?" The grip on their waist tightened in anticipation of their answer. His eyelashes fluttered as he looked away from them.

"It's funny that you think I'd rather be elsewhere right now," They said, trying to catch his gaze. "Hey. C'mon, silly, look at me."

It took a little while before dark grey eyes met theirs once more, "There we go."

"Stop this already," He mumbled, but he leaned closer still.

"There's no place I'd rather be than by your side," They state proudly, giving him a smile. "I'm staying. Today, tomorrow, and the next day, and...this is getting cheesy..." They cough; embarrassed, "You get it, right?"

"You're going to be the death of me," Jamil murmured, thumb brushing against their cheek ever so lightly. "Hayaati wa qalbi." The words send a shiver down their spine though they don't understand them.

"What's that supposed to mean?" They asked as Jamil finally brought them over to his bed. He turned off the gramophone and their hands find his braids, untangling them. (It would've been faster with magic, but they knew Jamil liked it when they did it instead.)

"It wouldn't be any fun if you knew what it meant," Jamil was smiling at them with the same gentleness the moon used to tide over oceans. They felt themself being inexorably pulled towards him, giving in to the gentle push and pull of his orbit.

"That's so not fair," They tug on one of his braids, earning them a swat to the thigh. "C'mon, you can't be keeping secrets to yourself."

"It's a pet name," Jamil said nonchalantly, turning towards them as they finished with undoing his hair. "Kind of like baby or honey."

"Jamil Viper," They try to look stern, but they were sure it didn't work. "I'm not falling for your tricks. I asked what the words meant, not what they were." He smiled, raising his hands as if he was caught.

In the end, Jamil clammed up about the words, even though their badgering was relentless. He only smiled at them, shaking his head and they wondered if it was important at all. They knew they meant something to him, or else he wouldn't have said it at all. And they could feel what he meant through the way he said it.

Hayaati wa qalbi. To them, it was just his way of saying "I love you." And they fell asleep, to the soothing hum of Jamil's voice and the warm hand brushing against their hair. He was humming that song again, the lyrics still stuck in their mind:

You'll never know how many dreams I dreamed about you,

Or how empty they all seem without you,

So kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again...

It's been a long, long time.

[ omake : حياتي وقلبي ]

Jamil opened his eyes when he finally heard their breathing even out. "Hey," He tried, only to be met with silence, their face curled against his shoulder.

Good. They were asleep.

"Hayaati wa qalbi," He breathed the words with reverence against their temple, chest filling with feelings too large to quantify with mere words. "It means 'my life and my heart.' I thought it was fitting for you, because..."

Because..? Why exactly did he choose those words?

His life. They were one of the only people, scratch that— the only person who he knew loved him unconditionally. He knew that they would love him, whether he chose to stay at the Al-Asim household, or if he ran away to chase his dreams when the crossroads finally caught up to him. He could see himself with them, years and years in the future; something that the past-him would've never thought to have ever experienced in his lifetime.

And his heart. They reminded him how good it fucking felt to live. Really live, as someone who wasn't just a dutiful servant. The few months that he had been dating them and the long months he spent yearning for them— they had been the most alive he felt in years . They taught him from scratch how to embrace his hobbies; accompanying him to musty antique stores, getting tickets to dance competitions, hell, even going as far as to make him completely abandon his animosity towards performing for once in his life.

There was so much more he could thank them for— so much that it made him choke on those three little words anytime he tried to utter them. But they never frowned upon that. With every failed attempt of professing his love, they were always there to pick him up— stitching him together with hands so gentle he could almost believe in their sincerity. And yet he was still afraid.

‘Old habits die hard’, yes, that was true. He couldn't help but let those thoughts eat at him; a slow, all-consuming autophagy because surely the only person he was hurting was himself. And he saw the flicker of sadness in their eyes whenever he would slip up, showing them the doubts needling around cautious words and actions like a pest. He knew he was getting better at it, but wanted to try harder; for their sake. For the sake of that smile on their face— the very one he wanted to protect.

So this was the best he could give them for now: hayaati wa qalbi. Words that he could say and mean. Words that they couldn't possibly understand. Words that he could only whisper the meanings of as they slumber, for fear of ripping out his own heart and baring it to them to do as they pleased.

Jamil wet his lips, trying again, "I thought it was fitting because that's exactly what you mean to me. You're my life and heart. So please...stay with me forever, as you promised." He couldn't help but struggle around the last few words, illogical tears welling up in his eyes as he pulled them closer.

Yes, for now, this would be enough. For his life and his heart, he swore, belonged to them and them only. Today, tomorrow, the next day, and the next. Forever, forever, and always.

thank you for reading this impromtu little thing i wrote for mr. viper ! if you'd like to check out more of my work: my ao3 + twst masterlist

#/trau writes #/trau fics #literally gonna k*** him #it's up to interpretation whether that is kiss or kill #i wrote this in five hours #i'm still shaking #emotional damage #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst fics #twst fic

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