Something, something, so heartbreaking about how much he loves you, but that love isn't enough to get you to stay in this world with him.
Unlike him, you have loved ones, family, and friends.
So he can't argue against it.
Because who would want to stay with him anyway?
Malleus, who will never move on, even after returning to Briar Valley and becoming king, you will always be his one and only true love, no matter the time or world. No matter how much it hurts him.
Leona, who told you to just go, that he should've known that these things never last, that nothing ever goes his way, he will always be second to everyone, whether they are from this world or another.
Jamil, who keeps his face cold the entire time, because he has already spent his lifetime being someone else's shadow, who was foolish to think that someone like him could have something of his own.
HIII I SAW YOU HAVE REQUESTS OPEN AND I WANTED TO REQUEST :>>
idon't know if your comfortable with this but can i request twst 2nd years (replace kalim with leona) and what they do if their s/o is gone?
their s/o is dead so i wonder how they would mourn, how they take care of their s/o's grave, and how they cope without them?
i don't know if you accept requests like these but if you do then THANK YOU SO SO SOOO MUCH IN ADVANCE 🙏💕
SECOND YEARS + LEONA X READER
Where you died
How the boys would live the mourning process, how they take care of your grave, and how they cope without your death, with a live without you
Warning: This is hard angst. If you're a very perceptive person who visualizes a lot or empathizes with what you read, be prepared for a bit of a tear.
Leona acts like he doesn’t care. At first. But deep down, he’s unraveled. He doesn’t cry in front of anyone. He shuts down. He sleeps even more, not out of laziness— because he can only see you in dreams now. There’s a rawness behind his eyes when your name is mentioned, but he covers it with silence. He avoids people because he hates how they look at him—with pity, like they expect him to break. He already did. Just not where anyone could see it.
Leona visits your grave late at night, always when no one's around. He doesn’t bring flowers. Instead, he sits in silence, talking to you about the mundane. “Ruggie got on my case again. Jack pissed me off.” Things like that. Sometimes, he brings pebbles from Savannaclaw and stacks them on your grave. Small tokens that only he would understand. He leaves when the sun starts to rise. Always before anyone can catch him there.
Leona tells himself it’s better this way—that he was only going to ruin you in the end. That you were too good for him. But that doesn’t stop the grief from choking him. He keeps something small of yours—a ring, a scarf, maybe a notebook with your handwriting. On bad days, he holds it so tightly his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t move on. He just becomes colder, harsher. Your loss is the scar he never lets heal.
Riddle shuts down entirely. He doesn't cry—not at first. He goes numb. Rules become his lifeline. Structure. Order. Anything but feeling. But when he finds the last gift you gave him, tucked in a drawer, unopened—he collapses. He screams into his pillow. Breaks a teacup in his hands. Grief terrifies him because it's messy—and Riddle was taught to fear mess.
Riddle brings roses. Red, white, and blue—each carefully arranged. He memorizes the upkeep schedule of your grave, ensuring it’s spotless at all times. He even files complaints if the groundskeepers neglect it. When he visits, he reads aloud to you—poetry, or books you once loved. His voice is quiet. On your birthday, he always brings your favorite tea and pours a cup beside your grave. He doesn’t drink. Just… waits, in case you’re still listening.
Riddle reverts into old habits—strict routines, harsh punishments, stricter rules. But Trey knows. He sees the way Riddle’s hands shake. Eventually, Riddle softens—just a little. He keeps your photo on his desk, and he sometimes writes letters addressed to you, even though he never sends them. He studies healing magic obsessively. Not because he wants to bring you back—he knows he can’t. But because he never wants to lose someone like that again. You were his exception. His rebellion. His first real love. And he never quite recovers.
Floyd doesn’t react the way people expect. He laughs when he hears the news—but it’s not happy. It’s empty. Then he gets violent. He wrecks an entire hallway, shattering windows and breaking anything that reminds him of you. Then… he’s just gone. He withdraws so deeply into himself that not even Jade or Azul can reach him. He stops showing up to class. Stops smiling. The spark in his eyes is just gone. He mutters your name to himself like a lullaby.
Floyd doesn’t go often. When he does, it’s erratic. One day he’s calm, sitting by your grave with seashells and pearls he found. The next, he’s yelling at the sky, sobbing, asking why you left him alone. He presses his forehead to your headstone sometimes and just stays there for hours. Then he leaves, mood unreadable, but always more exhausted than before.
Floyd changes. He becomes moodier, but not in his usual way. He loses interest in his usual chaos. You were the one who made the world interesting, after all. He keeps something of yours in his jacket—maybe your old hairpin or bracelet—and clutches it when he’s angry or lost. When people ask about you, he snaps: “Don’t talk about them. Ever.” Sometimes, though, he swears he hears your laughter. And for a fleeting second, he smiles like he used to.
Silver is devastated, and it shows. He’s always been calm and emotionally steady, but your death shakes him to his core. He loses his rhythm—his duty falters, his naps grow deeper and longer. He wakes up crying from dreams where you’re still alive, only to remember you’re gone. His voice is softer now, as if anything louder might shatter him. He carries guilt. “Why couldn’t I protect you?” is a question that haunts him endlessly.
Silver visits your grave with quiet reverence. He brushes fallen leaves off the headstone with his hands, tends to the flowers, and replaces them often with lilies or whatever blooms you once loved. He kneels when he speaks to you, as if he still guards you even in death. He reads aloud fairytales you liked, letting the wind carry his words to wherever you might be. Silver doesn't rush. He stays until the stars come out. And sometimes he sleeps there. It's the closest he'll ever get to falling asleep cuddled up with you again.
Silver keeps a locket with your photo, tucked inside his shirt near his heart. He often touches it absentmindedly when lost in thought. Lilia, Sebek and Malleus worry about him, and while he remains gentle with them, there’s a sadness behind his smile. Silver believes you’re watching over him—so he tries to live a life you’d be proud of. It hurts. But that belief keeps him moving, one step at a time.
Ruggie pretends he’s okay. He makes jokes, forces a grin, but those who know him well notice the cracks—he laughs less, steals less, works more. He throws himself into being useful cause if he stops moving, the grief catches up. The first time he’s alone after your funeral, he breaks down hard. Punches a wall. Screams into his jacket. It’s the only time he lets himself fall apart.
Ruggie doesn’t visit often at first—not because he doesn’t care, but because it hurts too much. When he does, he always brings something: your favorite snack, some charm from the Sunset Savanna, a scrap of cloth from a hoodie you loved. He never stays long. Just stands there, hands in his pockets, voice low: “Hey… bet you’re still yelling at me from wherever you are. I can hear it.… I miss it.”
Ruggie becomes fiercely protective of the few people he has left. He values life more now, but laughs a little less. He keeps your last voice message in Magicam saved and listens to it sometimes under the covers at night. When he sees something you would’ve loved at the market, he stops and stares for a moment—then keeps walking. The pain never really fades. But he carries it like everything else: close to his chest, never letting it show unless he’s completely alone.
Azul is shattered, but he tries to intellectualize it. He tries to convince himself that grief can be processed in logical steps, denial, anger, bargaining. But that doesn’t stop him from breaking down in private, clutching the edge of his desk until his knuckles turn blue, trying to breathe through the panic of a world without you. He continues running the Mostro Lounge like nothing’s wrong. His smile is still polished. But behind the scenes? Azul can’t look at your favorite seat in the lounge without feeling like he’s drowning.
Azul dresses impeccably every time he visits your grave. It becomes a ritual He brings white roses, and small trinkets he made with his own hands. He kneels, brushing dust from your name. Sometimes his voice breaks. Sometimes he just sits in silence and lets the tears fall.
Azul spirals into overwork. He tries to fill the void you left with achievements, contracts—anything. But nothing is enough. He keeps your photo in the drawer of his desk, opens it during long nights, and murmurs to it like you’re still there. Jade and Floyd know. They say nothing, but keep a close eye on him. Azul never quite recovers. He simply learns how to live with a heart that echoes where your voice used to be.
Jamil becomes frighteningly quiet. His grief is organized, sharp, disciplined—he doesn’t lash out, but everything about him becomes colder. Internally, he’s drowning in guilt. He feels responsible somehow. He replays everything over and over, looking for what he missed. He doesn’t cry in front of others. But late at night, he folds your old letters and clothes, tears soaking into his palms.
Jamil treats your grave like a shrine. Every week, he brings fresh desert roses, cleans the stone, and places small food offerings from his own cooking—your favorites, made exactly the way you liked them. He never talks to you there. Instead, he meditates in silence beside the grave. Maybe he believes the words are already in his heart, or maybe it just hurts too much to speak them aloud.
Jamil becomes obsessed with control—over his routine, his environment, his emotions. He starts studying harder, sleeping less, doing more. But it’s all a way to avoid facing the pain. He wears a bracelet you once gave him and never takes it off. On the anniversary of your death, he disappears from everyone for a full day. Only Kalim knows where he goes—and he never asks questions. Jamil's grief is silent, disciplined, and buried deep. But it never leaves him.
Kalim doesn't understand it at first. He smiles, thinking you'll come through the door like always, calling his name. The reality doesn't hit until days later—when your laugh no longer echoes, when your perfume fades from his robes. Then he breaks. Not in fury, in grief so raw it silences even him. He curls up in bed, weeping into your favorite pillow, begging for it to be a dream
Kalim visits every week, rain or shine. He brings lavish flower arrangements, little handmade crafts, and occasionally food—things he learned to cook because you liked them. He talks a lot while sitting by your grave. Sometimes he cries. Other times, he smiles while telling stories, like he’s making sure your spirit is still included in his life.
Kalim throws himself into making others smile. If he can’t be happy, at least someone else can be. But deep down, there’s a hollowness. He wears a ring you once gave him—tells people it’s “for luck,” but it’s really a promise he’s trying to keep: To never forget you. Jamil ends up watching over him more carefully than ever. Kalim still laughs, still shines, but there’s a sadness behind it that never quite goes away
Jade’s grief is clinical, almost surgical in how neatly he tucks it away from others. No one sees him cry. No one sees him falter. He mourns in silence, in isolation. He’ll continue his duties, serve in the Lounge, smile with those sharp teeth—but inside, he’s completely quietly broken. His calm becomes eerie because there’s no balance anymore. Not without you.
Jade visits your grave with ritualistic precision. Once a month, on the same day, at the same time. He brings rare mushrooms, a flower you loved... He speaks rarely, if at all. He stays until nightfall, then vanishes like he was never there.
Jade becomes more elusive. Even Floyd can’t always read him. Jade starts going into deeper and more dangerous places, almost like he’s looking for something he lost. He keeps your memory alive through action—keeping what you loved alive in the world. But he never talks about you unless someone dares to ask… and if they do, he just smiles. A sad, secret smile. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I had a prophetic line come to me while imagining Jamil Angst: "I'm sorry for loving you.... I'm sorry for loving you and expecting you to love me back."
Howdy~! Loved your writing! Can I request a fluff/angst scenario in which Jamil Viper suddenly had a nightmare of hurting his fem! s/o during his Overblot and when he wakes up, he quickly rushes over to Ramshackle to check on her, make sure she’s okay? Please and thank you!
Hi, hello hun! Thank you very much, I'm glad my writing brings a smile to people's faces! I love writing comfort fics, so this is right up my alley! Every comfort twst fic has been consumed by yours truly! I hope you enjoy!
WARNING: Dead bodies and mildly gruesome imagery. I kind of went overboard with the nightmare portion-
Drip drip drip
The only sound which could reach his ears was the incessant dripping of ink, covering the ground beneath his feet.
Slithering snakes obscured his peripheral vision, red hot rage filled his veins. The school was in shambles, in every corner there were bodies littering the ground - weakened and malnourished students, who lost their lives under his fanatic dictatorship.
He was the master, but the master of what? Of ruins, of a rotting building, of a dying student body, controlled against their will, of darkened cold nothingness hidden behind lavish feasts and glittering gold. And then there was you - his jewel in the rough, his biggest treasure, kneeling before him, eyes filled with hatred, fear... and exhaustion. You dared not look him in the eyes, but your downward gaze spoke volumes - the love of his life who refused to succumb to her master's wishes.
"Pitiful. You keep disobeying your master. Haven't I taught you manners?"
You refused to answer him, gaze never leaving the ground.
"My treasure, have I not given you everything?" His voice lowered threateningly. "Or perhaps you'd choose to follow in your classmate's footsteps. Perhaps it was foolish of me to believe you'd be anything different than those mindless slaves."
You didn't answer.
"Or perhaps they've contaminated your brain. That must be it, why else would you refuse so adamantly the life of a goddess. Oh, my love, we must cure you."
He grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up. On instinct, you closed your eyes, refusing to catch his gaze.
"Smart little girl." He whispered in your ear. His snakes left painful bitemarks on your skin - covering older ones who'd begun to fade.
That's how it had been for a while - you'd lost track of time. He'd call upon you, lavish you in expensive jewellery, feeding you feasts made by the bloodied hands of your classmates, whisper sweet nothing in your ears. Then he'd get angry at your lack of response and throw you away, leaving you alone in your chambers.
Only this time, it was different.
"Perhaps I should turn to a more radical form of treatment?" His strong hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing.
Your breath became ragged, strained.
"You chose this. I am merely delivering."
You grasped his hand, trying to wiggle away, but it was useless. You felt the ink on his hand seep into your skin and clothes, contaminating your very being.
Your gaze slowly faltered, eyes closing, before he threw you on the ground.
_____________________________________________
As the heavy thud reached his ears he opened his eyes, frantically looking around. He was in his room, it was the middle of the night. He was sweaty, breath ragged. He'd fallen off his bed and that's what woke him up. He searched around for any indication that indeed it was all just a nightmare. With trembling hands he pushed himself up to sit on his bed. His hair was a mess, his heart was beating so loud he felt it might burst through his chest. He felt sick to the stomach, a twisted feeling of guilt, despair and disgust eating at his very core.
His gaze turned to the framed picture on his bedside table. It was you two, on your visit to the Scalding Sands, your arms are wrapped around him and a cheerful smile graced your features.
Was that smile...even real? Or were you being controlled?
Without thinking, he grabbed his shoes and sprinted out of his room, dead set on seeing you, rules be damned.
_____________________________________________
You were woken up by a hurried, frantic knocking on Ramshackle's front door. You slowly got up, cautiously making your way to the entrance. Even though you knew it couldn't be anybody threatening, besides you had the ghosts and Grim as back up, a little caution never hurt anybody.
What you didn't expect to see is your frazzled boyfriend, engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug the moment you opened the door.
"Whoah, Jamil. Are....are you okay?" You gently hugged him back, fingers gliding through his hair, untangling any knots he might have.
He didn't respond, instead pulling back to look you in the eyes. You looked at him dead in the eyes, no fear or disgust in your gaze whatsoever. All he saw was worry and perhaps curiosity. His eyes were glassy with untold emotions, gaze heavy with guilt.
"M-may I come in?" He inwardly cursed himself for stuttering.
"Of course, you can. Come in, come in." You grabbed his hand, leading him to your couch. "What happened? Here. I'll get you some water, did you sprint here?"
Before you could get up, he pulled you to him, hands gently cradling your face.
"Jamil, my love." You breathed out, reaching out to cup his face, "Did you perhaps have a nightmare?"
His guilt-ridden gaze moved to the floor. Somehow, only from you, he couldn't hide a single thing.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He wasn't sure what to answer. Now that he was with you and his head had cleared up, he realised how bizarre the situation was. Of course it was a nightmare.
But that didn't get rid of the weight on his heart.
"I... dreamed of my overblot. I saw... destruction everywhere. And I was hurting you. Constantly. And the fear in your eyes, it looked so real. I -" he sighed deeply. "You died... By my hands." He felt a lump forming in his throat.
"Oh, Jamil."
"And I know it's just a dream, I know but-" he couldn't keep talking. It all overwhelmed him so much.
"Jamil."
"S/O, I-"
"Jamil!"
He snapped out, turning to you.
"Jamil, I have never, ever, for a single moment, felt afraid or disgusted around you. Your overblot happened, we can't change that, but you didn't hurt me. You didn't then. And you haven't since. And I know very well, that you'd never intentionally hurt me in any way. I trust you and I feel safe around you."
He let out a shaky breath. "How do you know you're not being controlled even right now?" It was stupid of him to ask, but his mind wasn't letting him rest.
"Jamil, both you and I know you can't keep using your unique magic indefinitely. So far, every single thing I've done, I've done on my own accord."
"And you don't fear me..?"
You looked at him dead in the eyes, with the most unwavering, serious gaze you could muster.
"How could I fear the man I love?"
He pulled you in for a gentle kiss, which he poured all of his emotions into.
"I promise you, I won't let any harm come your way, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and content, and free." He mumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
"Love, you sound like you're about to propose." You teased, trying to lighten the mood.
A small smile graced his features. "Perhaps in the future.", He thought to himself.
"How about we go back to bed, you are most certainly staying the night here, mister. I'll be right next to you when you wake up."
"I'm sorry for barging in at such an ungodly hour."
"Oh, shut up~. You know you're always welcome here, and besides, I'd always prefer to have you next to me when I sleep."
He didn't really understand what he did to deserve you, but you were his beacon of light and he swore to treasure you and keep you safe for as long as you let him.
Hello I'm not sure if my request is allowed since i did not see it on the rules so pls ignore it it is not allowed.
May I request Leona, Jamil, Rook and Malleus with a S/O who is suffering from depression? Another thing is they have caught the reader trying to unalive themselves, and harming themselves, their mental health is also getting worse. I'd like to see the boy's reaction and how they'd comfort their S/O(since it it similar to my current situation).
I understand if you're not comfortable with this request or do not want to do it. I also apologize of it is against the rules. I'd also like to say that I enjoy reading your works a lot. Please take care of yourself. Thank you and enjoy your day!<3
Let me heal your scars
| twisted wonderland !
⌗:, scars on the outside heal after a time. but...are there any methods or medications that can heal the scars inflicted on the inside?....
⌗:, a/n: anon I am comfortable with this request as I myself have gone through similar situations but you need to push through ! I hope you find solace in whatever keeps you happy and please don't do anything that might unalive you ! I love you <3 I have added things I kind of felt when situation like those happened
⌗:, warning: mentions of reader unaliving themselves,, trauma,, mental health issues,, read at your own risk ! angst !
,,your depression has gotten worse. you still have freakish nightmares and you slowly start to wonder "do I really have any worth?" "maybe I am useless" "it is my fault that I always fail". these thoughts keep plaguing you mind it's as if someone is telling you to just k!ll yourself. maybe you should just?....
LEONA refuses to let anything get to his weakness and he would absolutely hate it when someone or something is the reason his cherished herbivore is going through hard times and having negative thoughts. He believed that when you are with him no dark thoughts would engulf your mind but...not everything can be kept at bay...
whenever you would visit savannahclaw you would most wear short sleeves or if you ever wore a long sleeve it would be mostly during winter but short sleeves were your favourite. However he noticed a sudden change in your clothing pattern with you wearing long sleeves more than often and turtlenecks . He may be laidback but he too once aimed for the throne of a king...
He knew you would never tell him so when you were sleeing in his arms he looked under your sleeves and for the first time he was frightened and covered in cold sweat.
" [name]...why do you have those cuts on your hands and on your neck ?" for the first time, your leona was dead serious with anything and his voice was a decible lower than usual. you knew that you would have to provide an atleast believeable excuse to make him believe. but no matter how much you tried to answer you felt as if you were being engulfed by the floor and damn gravity never felt this heavy.
you burst into tears. the thoughts, the pressure of life, the decisions, everything fell on you like a thousand bricks. he sucked at comforting but he knew hugs were your favourite. he told you to cry as much as you wanted to. he patted your back and offered to listen to everything you've been going through those days.
he may not be able to relate with you but atleast he can lessen the pain you've felt.
JAMIL himself had to undergo some strict training in his childhood but he had to admit that whatever happened with you nothing of the sort happened to him. so he couldn't share the nor understand your feelings but just know...that he will do whatever it takes to help you
you would visit his dorms and sometimes dance with him under the moonlight with passion because it was something you wanted to do, something that would be very intimate but recently he saw less passion in you and frequent absences of your presence on many days. he thought you were busy but there's no way that you would be absent for two weeks right?...
he was on his way to Ramshackle dorm to see what you were doing, and if there were any homework, he might help you with those, but he definitely didn't expect your silhouette standing on the highest balcony railing ready to jump. he was frozen with fear. 'there's no way that YOU would do this..'
as soon as he saw your feet leave the railing, he sprinted to the spot where you might fall, and thank goodness he caught you just before you hit the ground. you have some explaining to do cause he was taken aback, he couldn't grasp what was happening and he was definitely sweating HARD.
" WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING JUMPING OFF THAT RAILING ?! DO YOU WANT TO REALLY KI–" you cut him off by shouting "WHY DID YOU CATCH ME I DO NOT WANT TO LIVE ANYMORE LET ME GO" and that was your last straw as tears flowed out of your eyes like a waterfall and you were sure you were crying like a baby at this point.
Jamil can read the room very well so he sighed and said that you can tell him everything later on and he is sure that it is definitely trauma inducing otherwise you wouldn't have tried to jump off
he know how heartbreaking it would be to see you cry but he wants to let you let go of all the pains and sorrows you have experienced these days.
MALLEUS here has no idea. this man child is learning human emotions because he pretty much grew sheltered so he learns them by looking at you. Things that invoke happy emotions, romantic emotions, sometimes sad emotions but what is this emotion that you're feeling right now?
I feel that he is able to sense emotions that his lover feels. dragon instincts I guess. but while most emotions you feel smelled sweet, strong or sometimes like petrichor..this one smelled like poison ivy. why?
he may be learning but he doubts that those scents were anything but normal. while he did want to ask you about it you would just change the subject. he knew you were hiding something. his instincts are on another level when it comes to you
he sensed that you might be in danger so it's best if he investigated it by himself and not long after did he find blood stained knifes and ropes. he was horrified. to think that the one whom he cherishes so much would be trying to part away from him for eternity, to take away their own life. he can't have you do that. not when he already made up his mind to keep you by himself while he rules.
you made sure to check all your surroundings to see if everything was in place but you failed to notice that one knife was missing which malleus brought out in front of you when you didn't notice him. "[name]...why were you doing this to yourself?..." he was sad and heartbroken. his voice sounded like he was on the verge of crying and so were you. he was the last person you wanted to find out about your...intentions of killing you life...
no matter how much you tried to tell him something your mouth would only open just to close the next moment because you just cannot bring yourself to tell him. you dropped down on the floor telling him that "I just can't do it...I can't deal shit with life...everything around me feels like they are judging me..feel like they will engulf me and no matter what I do I'll just be useless all over again.." he couldn't reciprocate your feelings but he can surely make you feel better. such a person as yourself who stays bright and cheery should not be crying on the floor nor should they feel sorrows. he hugged you close to his chest while he told you that he would listen to everything you want to tell him.
if he can't shield you from sadness and mishaps then how can he call himself a worthy ruler who would protect the people..his people? so he would do anything in his power to make sure you never shed those tears again.
ROOK here knew exactly the moment when you seemed more gloomy and down than usual. you would talk less, eat less, and those eyebags were so prominent that they could be noticed from metres away.
Something is not right...he thought to himself. how could his always cheerful and perfect other half be so under the weather these days. looks like he needs to know about the origin of your sorrows. He is a stubborn one so he is going to and he WILL find out whatever or whoever has cause you pain. He knows for a reason that it's gotta be something from the past looking at how you don't want to tell him and looks like he was right....
he is slowly unfolding your bedsheets, opened your drawers, and investigated your kitchen knife. bigger sorrows usually lead to rash decisions and looks like he was right. he is a master archer and hunter. the smell of blood being too familiar to him to be able to trace the scent in the knife being yours.
he knew that it may be a possibility, but the fact being true makes him feel...crestfallen. how? why? when? all these thoughts raced his mind. he knew your reason for doing these would be even worse and heartbreaking. but he had to confront you and comfort you. so that's when you seeked you out in the middle of the night when you were almost going to drift off to slumber.
"[name]...were you trying to hurt yourself?" your eyes grew wide like saucers. you've never seen rook look so dejected and serious. you told him yes and showed him all the scars that wrapped your body. you felt tears threatening to spill from your eyes and..oh? why do your cheeks feel wet?...
his usual signature smile was now a ghost of itself and he had a frown. he hugged you as tight as possible and let you freely cry all over on his chest. he shushed you softly and told you to tell him everything you went through and let go of those past emotions.
with him here he swears to never let anyone or he himself be the reason of your tears. he can't afford to see his amoureuse stain her beautiful face.
a/n: sometimes you just need to let go of all those who belittled you or trampled over your pitiful self. you should now grow a stronger version of yourself and start your life anew <3
So it's established that Jamil is on the strong side, right? With how his unique magic isn't something just anyone would be able to do and how he's really smart but also smart enough to look average? (This could apply to other boys too but I'm in a Jamil mood)
I wanna see him fight for us. I wanna see us in danger, and we yell out Jamil's name, and he comes to our rescue, but its not just him rescuing us- it's him engulfed in fury and making sure your attackers never come near you again. Even better if it's someone who underestimates him. Maybe some Snooty tooty high up guys who visit NRC for something, and since Jamil is a model student he's one of the students to show them around. And those guys are the kind where they compliment him but also sneer at how he's only *average*. Backhanded compliments and such. And then they spot Us, and they're like "That person has no magic, what are they doing here?!" And if you're a girl, well, they'd have something to say about that too. They're not happy with your existence at NRC. So before they leave...it wouldn't hurt to do something about you, right? Like forcibly drag you away? Maybe hit you a few times or tie you up so you stop struggling? And you can't fight back so you yell out in desperation for the one who unknowingly knows your heart- Jamil. And -I dunno how *shrug*- he finds you, sees what's happening to you, and all restraint has left him as he pulls out his pen.
… it’s the weekend. I’m tryna not write rn. I’m trying to control myself. But you had to make it real difficult. I can’t stand you. /j
♡ J.V | FIGHT FOR ME | ANGST W/ FLUFF | [TW: VIOLENCE, BULLYING, BLOOD]
There’s only three of them. Three against one and each with magic, who are dead set on making you remember what.you.are. Magicless. It doesn’t matter if you know the fact, live by that simple inability in which makes you a forever outliner no matter where you go, where you exist. You will always be magicless, bottom of the barrel. Useless. You know this, you do. Yet you make amends elsewhere. You do. You really try.
It hurts.
His broad fist slamming into your nose, while another kick your legs from out under you. While a third take a photo. They laugh, a laugh that mixes in with the ringing of your ears and the pounding of your skull. You feel your body collide with the ground, and they laugh again. As if a record on repeat, they want you to know how pathetic you are. You can hear the click of their camera, their snickers and words that don’t quite reach your ears.
“You aren’t supposed to disappear. Youre still on NRC grounds—What are you,” You struggle to see past their large bodies, yet ypu know his voice. His tired and annoyed voice that stop short. As if fully taking in the scene before him, the others taunt, laughing, saying how they couldn’t care less about ‘NRC stupid rules’. Especially since they let you in. You struggle to sit, to open your mouth to simply catch his gaze. And you do, charcoal grey to yours.
It hurts.
To see his knee slammed in the first students face, fingers interlocked and wrapped around the jerk’s huge head. It happened within a second, for the vice warden to spring from the ground, as if it was mere second nature to bring such a towering body down easily. Yet the look upon his face was neutral, as if his very expression was craved from dark stone, while his eyes, filled with such rage inwhich it sent a shiver down your own spine. He wouldn’t hurt you, as he falls with lands and with a simple step is already on the second one, sending a punch to the face, you swear you could hear a bone crack, before he could even utter a word.
He feels like the wind, the blows past on a hot day, warming your face, forcing you to focus solely on it more than whatever cause such heat. It should burn… yet, your ignore the ache and turn your body. It all happened so fast, with all three bodies littered on the ground. While Jamil stands victorious. Breathing deeply through his nose, shoulders tense, and hands clenched.
Yet when he looks at you, there isn’t any anger, only worry. Fear. Regret.
As if whatever you saw before was merely a fragment. Yet as he kneels before you, face pulling into a frown as he pulls a bundle of napkins and tissues, most definitely in case Kalim needed them, from his pocket he whips the blood from your nose. Sitting in the silence. He’s a soft breeze, barely unnoticeable unless you stop for a moment. “I was worried when you disappeared like that…” He pauses, as if it just dawned on him what truly happened. You got hurt. You really did.
“If anything—and I mean anything happens like that again. Call my name. Call it. Shout it. Scream. Cry,” there’s unwavering loyalty in his words, “and I will fight for you.”
"intense and yearning, bold and powerful. confidence. i am who i am."
book four spoilers under cut
“It’s him or me.”
Jamil’s room is silent after he says that sentence, the words are like raindrops on a lake before a hurricane. They ripple in your mind as he stares at you, clearly expecting an answer you aren’t sure you can give. It’s not because you don’t know the answer. You hesitate because of the consequences it will have.
Do you help him overthrow Kalim? Do you help him get revenge? Do you help him break free of his parent’s expectations and the fate he’s been cursed with to live forever in the dark, shrouded by Kalim? Is there a better way?
There’s no time for questions. Jamil isn’t letting you think too hard about this.
He wants your answer now.
“It’ll always be you.” you say, solidifying your fate.
Jamil smiles, wide and scheming. You expect your heart to plummet at the uncharacteristic expression of loathing, but it doesn’t. Your heart does nothing but beat like it’s supposed to.
Like it’s supposed to.
Like you’re supposed to take his side. Like you’re supposed to support him no matter what. Like you’re supposed to be his.
You try not to feel like a possession or a tool. You aren’t.
“I’m glad you made that choice. Truly, you are the only one I can trust.” Jamil pulls away from you, beginning to pace his room.
You watch him move and mumble to himself, forming a plan in that genius mind of his. Part of you wants to try and convince him that it isn’t worth it, that he would be better off if he didn’t try to hurt someone, but you know that’s not the best solution. The other part of you wants him to go for it, wants him to overthrow Kalim because he would be a better Housewarden and Kalim always takes him for granted, but you know that’s not the best solution either.
Is there any way to win this?
“We’re going to win this.” Jamil murmurs, a gleam in his eye that spells trouble.
Jamil cried and wept tears of sorrow with a bit of frustration mixed in. A death of someone unique and loved to them was never easy. You, his charming love who had captured his heart, and in turn, he had captivated you. You were also his first love, making it oh so very special. A second or possibly third love is always achievable, but the first love would forever hold a special place in their mind and heart.
♥♥♥ ♥ ♥♥♥
Y/N was his lover, someone he could truly choose to devote his time and pamper with affectation to—once he had warmed up more to you later on in the relationship.
♥♥♥ ♥ ♥♥♥
Admittedly, he at first had been stiff or Jamil had treated himself somewhat of a servant, falling into old habits which were hard to shake off.
Since Jamil had not ever been equal in a relationship besides his family and perhaps acquaintances. Though, he did allow little acts of PDA, and Jamil would smother you in physical touch or affectation behind doors without public view. As the two of you had grown to be closer, both had cherished each other even more if that's possible to imagine. You would help him in treating you as your equal without the servant part because you loved him back.
Someone he need not to lower himself for, a person he could show off his secretly worked on talents, a friend he could share his most hidden worries or dislikes, and finally, a lover which he could call mine without the need to share with Kalim. Perhaps a dreamer who could even travel the world with him? If he were completely honest, he was hoping that as well. He wished to share his magnificent dream that he cradled for years.
♥♥♥ ♥ ♥♥♥
You were his, and he was yours truly, something belonged to no one else with a love so deep that it was perhaps incomprehensible.
His everything....
Now you were gone and had left an empty hole in his heart as Kalim tried his best to comfort his dear friend and subordinate.
