#because you need that angst

[edupunkn00b]

Meus ex Machina, Chapter 19: Silvertongue and Hesper

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - Silvertongue and Hesper - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 2689 - Rated: T - CW: non-graphic torture, blood

Where Janus went in the pre-dawn hours. But first, what happened to Lucas after he left HQ on Remus and Roman's 21st birthday. If you haven’t yet read Progression, stop here and read it now for maximum impact. The flashback at the start of this chapter takes place two days after the end of that story.

For at least the hundredth time and for the second time in the past 72 hours, Lucas punched in the coordinates to The Inn. This time, though, he made the trip out to their old watering hole alone.

The ghost of Re’s giddy nervousness bounced around the ship. 

Really? You’re gonna let me have a drink tonight?

Sure, Re. You only turn twenty-one once…

Banking around the scaffold of the Newland Towers, Lucas jumped at the static he picked up from the construction site. For the past three days, Lucas had stayed up, listening, waiting. He’d kept the aircar radio open the whole way out, childishly hoping Jan or Pat or anyone else would reach out. Tell him it was all a mistake. Ask him to come home.

No-one did.

He set down behind the bar and circled his and Jan’s old haunt. A flashing ‘closed’ sign shone in the darkness, and the landing pads out front were vacant, but Andrew’s movement behind the bar cast long shadows in the back windows. The gate was down in front so Lucas returned to the alleyway.

Shiny, new, and with five layers of encryption, the deadbolt on the backdoor was impressive. The rusted screws holding it in place, however, were not and one swift kick opened the door.

“What the hell—” Andrew’s tough guy shout from the bar dropped to a whisper when Lucas came into view. His eyes darted side to side, searching for someone in the empty bar to rescue him.

“Lucas! Hey… hey, um, no hard feelings, right? You know I didn’t call the feds on Re… they just… they just showed up and took care of the body, I…” He stepped back, fumbling along the railing under the taps for his emergency call switch. “But y—you got outta here way before they got here, right?”

“The call button’s two meters to your left,” Lucas responded, flipping a bottle sealer at the powerbank just above the switch. It exploded, sparks raining down on Andrew’s hand. “You wouldn’t want the corpos to just show up coincidentally again, now would you?”

“No, Lucas, no…” He shook his head. “Of course not. C’mon, man… You know it’s not like that. You and Jay have been coming here for years… You all are like family to me.”

Lucas’ voice was quiet. “You took my family from me.” He unbuttoned his coat and peeled it off, revealing a harness with an antique taser and five extra charge canisters. “You took my brother.” Gaze focused on his coat, Lucas walked to the rack next to the front doors and hung it on the closest hook before drawing down the window shade and checking the locks on the door. 

“You took my boys.” Andrew’s eyes widened and he slowly straightened, shaking hands raised near his head. Lucas snapped a fresh charge into place and watched the standby light stutter to life. “You took my love.”

Finally he looked up, eyes ablaze. “I’ve lost everything.” Andrew began to tremble, sympathetic nervous system rooting him in place, full freeze mode. As though that could do anything to help him now. Lucas absorbed the fear pouring out with his rank sweat and smiled. “Just as you’re about to.”

Lucas unlocked the taser and flicked it on. A sharp buzzy whine filled the room, followed by the trickling sound of urine dripping from Andrew’s pant leg. Lucas tsked. “So soon? Very well.”

“No, no, no… Lucas… You don—you—you don’t wanna do this… This—this isn’t you.” Lucas aimed the taser and the man’s words jumbled, hands out as though he could stop the assault. “Wha—what would Jan think if he—”

Lucas’ eyes brightened, orange fire pushing away his doubt. “Jan already thinks I’ve been purchased. He already thinks I betrayed him. To you.” He grinned, his smile broad and easy. And empty as the bar. “Let’s show him who I really answer to, shall we?”

“No… no, please, Lucas, no—” With a bang, refurbished guidewires shot out and embedded in the man’s neck. 50,000 volts cut short his pleas, the bright white glow rivaled only by Lucas’ orange eyes.

~

The slow death of Andrew’s brain ripped away the last shreds of Lucas’ control. Eyes squeezed shut, he doubled over, arms crossed over his head as the bartender’s dying cries shot through his heart. Seared flesh set fire to his nerves. Andrew’s fear his pain would never end. The fear of what would happen when it did.

And Andrew’s last thoughts, the tiny spark of relief that it was finally over.

Lucas slumped to the floor, barely noticing the knot on the side of his own head. He lay there for as long as he dared before pulling himself to his feet and staggering to the toilets.

The lukewarm recycled tap did a poor job on his hands and no matter how hard he scrubbed with the bar’s watered down soap, bits of Andrew’s blood clung to his knuckles and under his nails. In the engraving on his ring.

He took it off, twisting to get it past the callouses, and held it up to the light. Dingy rust filled in the swooping cursive ‘Ja’ on the engraving. Shoulders slumped, he fought the tightening in his throat, the burning behind his eyes. 

But he was spent. His eyes flickered weakly under the dingy bathroom lights. A sob ripped up from his throat and hot tears spilled over, dripping down his cheeks and his neck as he rubbed at his stained wedding ring under the faucet.

His wrist buzzed and hope sparked in his chest.

Hope quickly doused by the message on his comm. Instead of a message from Jan, from Pat, from the boys, a bold proximity warning scrolled across the tiny screen. 

CORPORATE POLICE ACTIVITY 100 YARDS AND CLOSING…

CORPORATE POLICE ACTIVITY 50 YARDS AND CLOSING…

CORPORATE POLICE ACTIVITY 10 YA—

A small blast was followed by the crash of the front door coming off its hinges. His ring hit the basin, rattling as it rolled around and down the open drain.

“Come out with your hands up! Come out—shit! Look what they did to him! Dear god…” The buzz of a dozen tazers more advanced than his own couldn’t cover the tremor in the pig’s voice. “Arms up! That’s an order!” 

Lucas’ comm hummed quietly, a constant vibration against his wrist now.

Auto-distress alert enabled. Contacting HQ in 30… 29… 28… 27…

“We have you surrounded!” Jackboots tromped down the old hardwood floors and came to a stop outside the locked bathroom door. Dust sprinkled from the hinges as they banged on it. “Come out or we’re coming in!”

Lucas turned off the water and watched the numbers tick before tapping Disable just as the distress call countdown hit 1.

His comm screen went dark and he wiped his hands on his pants. “Be out in just a mo’!” he sing-songed. Only Jan would’ve caught the hitch in his voice. Well, Pat, too, most likely. But they weren’t here to care.

He checked the mirror, drying his face and smoothing back his hair. He smiled at the dim but growing amber rings around his eyes, then turned and opened the door.

~

Rain and hail drummed against the hull, a syncopated beat that dragged Lucas from a deep sleep. He’d been dreaming of home again, of the boys chasing each other through the halls. Pat’s more Teddy Bear-than-Papa Bear warnings to slow down. Re promising Pat they’d try before erupting in laughter with Ro, a soft, calm laugh, nothing like his laughter the last time he’d seen him. 

Jan’s smooth hot toddy voice, spice and heat and comfort. His hand, ungloved, unshielded, carding through his hair. 

Lucas leaned back and shook his head to clear away the clingy wisps of dream from his mind.

But Jan’s voice only grew louder. 

-”We need to talk, Hesper. Where can I find you?”-

Amber light bled through his eyelashes and he smiled. -”Mmm… So formal, ma cheri,”- he purred back. -”And yet so rude! Not even a ‘good morning, how did you sleep? How would you like your tea?”-

Jan’s shield was strong, nothing but a faint buzz was his answer.

He was close. Lucas checked the local time. Technically morning, though the sun wouldn’t be up for hours. It had been winter when they’d met, too. He shook off the thought and lit up the room with his eyes. 

-”Is it actually morning where you are?”- Jan asked as though he didn’t know. As though he wasn’t close enough for Lucas to smell his cologne.

Or maybe he just imagined it.

-”I have risen with the light…” Lucas pushed a memory of Jan’s smiling face back at him, hair mussed and splayed out on his pillow. He wasn’t sure how much got through Jan’s shield. Or who he was trying to hurt more. -”Does that count as morning in your calculation?”-

-”I wish to speak with you, Hesper,”- he sent, dull and flat and cold.

Lucas checked the sensors. The others weren’t with him. Jan had actually come alone. He chewed at his lip. Whatever this was, the platform was already dotted with intent detonators. If this was some surprise attack, Lucas would soon know. He sighed, his curiosity getting the better of him, and he lowered the gangway. 

“Welcome aboard, ma cheri,” he called down the open ramp. An elegant shadow in grey and yellow stepped into view and Lucas bowed, one arm sweeping out. “Wipe your feet before you come up, s’il vous plaît. It’s simply filthy out there.”

Hurrying back to his bunk, he pushed up the platform to hide his bedding and flipped down both benches on either side of the little table where he ate and planned and built most of his tools. He started to sit, then rose again and dispensed two cups of hot water for tea, dropping in sachets from his dwindling stash and set them down across from each other.

By the time Jan turned the corner into the main area of the ship, Lucas was sat back, right arm hooked over the back rest, left leg crossed over the other, ankle to knee. He lowered orange-tinted lenses over his eyes and smiled.

“Welcome aboard,” he repeated, biting his cheek when he realized he’d already run through his script.

“You already said that,” Jan replied, voice smooth. Well, mostly smooth, with only a tiny catch at the end which could just be a bit of his old morning hoarseness. Jan’s mind was completely shielded—fuck he’d gotten good at that—but there was a twitch in his left pinkie and he hesitated before sitting. “I appreciate the hospitality,” he nodded before switching their cups and taking a slow sip from the one that had been in front of Lucas.

“Ah, ma cheri, you wound me…” He shook his head and took the other tea cup, blowing away the steam. “You still don’t trust me.” Lucas clucked his tongue, grateful he’d thought to don his glasses as his eyes burned in the attempt to keep his voice light. “Well?” He looked up over the lip of his cup between sips. “While your company is a pleasure as always…” They could both pretend Jan’s cheeks warmed from the heat of his tea. “You said you had something to discuss with me.”

Jan set down his cup and watched the steam rise. “To be completely honest with you, Luc, I’m not entirely sure why I’m here.”

All Lucas’ powers couldn’t stifle how much he wanted Jan to say his name again, how much he needed Jan to say his name again. He hid his face behind his cup and took another sip to buy time to settle his heart. “Interesting,” he murmured, cracked voice betraying him. Jan’s eyes shot up.

Lucas sat, silent and pinned down by his gaze, until Jan finally continued. “I suppose given everything that’s happened, I…” Jan addressed his cup, lifting it up for another slow sip. “I was so sure we’d done everything we could do to help Re. That we’d given him every safeguard, every protection possible. But…” He shook his head. “If I was wrong about that,” he whispered, more to himself than to Lucas. “What else have I been wrong about?”

“What’s happened?” Lucas leaned forward, reaching for Jan before he could even think to stop himself. “What’s wrong with Re?”

Jan leaned back, eyebrow raised, and sipped his tea. -”You don’t hear him?”- he asked silently.

Brow furrowed, Lucas closed his eyes and reached out. There was the buzz of Jan’s shield, a dark, staticy hole where his feelings should be. A couple asleep in their ship two platforms down. The rumble of families in the surrounding shelters. A little boy crying from a nightmare. And then…

Lucas gasped. Like finally noticing a song playing in the background, he suddenly registered the touch of Re’s mind in the distance. His cup clattered to the table and he leapt to his feet. Re! “You left him alone? Unshielded and alone and—”

“And happy,” Jan murmured to his cup, seated serenely across from him. “And not alone.”

Lucas slowly took his seat, stretching, feeling for any sense he could detect of Re’s thoughts over the distance. He’d moored this ship on the knife’s edge of his own abilities, near enough to hear everyone in HQ. Far enough he wouldn’t be too tempted to listen.

Re was completely unshielded but… he was calm. His thoughts rippled around him, gentle and rhythmic drops on a pond. Sleeping? Given the hour and the wordlessness of his thoughts, probably. A light sleep, no dreams yet, nothing that would trigger a strong emotional response at least. He was calm and content and… happy.

And Jan was right. Re was not alone.

“Is Ro—” He shook his head, answering his own question. No, if Ro had been with him, the boys most certainly would be up and making good trouble around—or outside—the house. No, he was with…

“He’s with Machina,” Jan answered.

“You left him alone with your twitchy bot?” Again, Lucas was on his feet, stomping toward the controls. “You trust him not to hurt him? I know you remember what hap—”

Jan followed and caught his arm, pulling him away from the pilot’s seat. His hand was warm through his gloves, gentle as it lingered on his forearm. “The Muse would never hurt Machina. Never intentionally.”

“I’m not talking about your fucking robot getting hurt! How do you know it won’t hurt Re?”

He never got to answer.

Lucas’ wrist buzzed half a second before a charge rocked the ship. “Get down!” he ordered and pushed Jan to the deck. Another blast hit the other side of the ship. 

The glow of his comm screen peeked out from under Jan’s sleeve and he pushed it back. Jan swore. “They’re close. Too many to count.”

Lucas nodded, shifting to tap at his own wrist. Bright white dots surrounded their location. The hull clanked, hurricane clamps tearing at the fuselage. “Damn.” 

Jan twisted beneath him, eyes wide and staring at his wrist. “You still wear your—”

He ignored the question and pushed to his feet before offering a hand to Jan. “You turned off your proximity alarm.”

“Had to,” he muttered, brushing imagined dust off his cloak. “It went off every day at the DC. Don’t avoid the question. Why do you still wear—”

Another blast rocked the ship. The corpos were getting bolder. And closer. A second blast was followed by a pained cry. They were now near enough to trigger the intent charges.

Lucas shook his head, eyeing the roof hatch. “We need to get out of here.”

The outer hull blew and jackboots tromped up the gangway, comms crackling. Lucas dropped the inner blast door just before they reached the top, then grabbed Jan and a pack. He sealed off the corridor from the inside just before the corpos entered the main control room.

They were now trapped inside the ship.

-“We need help,”- Jan corrected and pressed the HQ alert on his wrist. -“Now.”-

[zosanbrainrot]

part 2 of Zoro in WCI

01 02 03 04 05 06

I tried to write something to sum up my thoughts on this, but then it got longer and longer and tbh I'm itching to write a fic set in this AU djjdkf I think I could develop on their inner feelings more than in the comic form

Before posting the first part I didn't realize people had such strong opinions on how this would play out lmaooo

imo, of course Zoro wants to fight Sanji, not with actual intent to harm (they threaten each other on the daily, come on), but because that's how they are together, how they communicate. He respects Luffy's decisions and their goal here, which is to learn what's really going on with Sanji, but he's gonna be pissy about it all he wants. They both have so many intense and conflicted feelings about this and neither has any idea how to resolve them. So they fight.

ofc yall are free to headcanon this interaction any other way you want <333

[nebula-remnants]

their relationship in the au after all the angst is going to be great guys

they get their shit together eventually I swear

[littlelightfish]

Kuro is always the one to die first. Mickbell is the one that has to go through the anguish of knowing he saw the only one he truly considers a family die. Look at his face when he realizes Kuro died/is going to die.

Mickbell doesn't cry here because he's afraid for his own safety or scared of what just happened. He cries because Kuro put himself into great danger and got killed.

I'll always wonder what would happen if Mick gets killed first.

[c-hrona]

A Rough Night

Basically the thought process for this was:

“I really really want to do a comic full manga style” + “I really really want to draw TriStamp again” + “I really really want to draw some Wolfwood’s angst”

And that's it. That's the comic.

[yorufi]

acrylic markers practice!!

[bakudekublogblog]

not to be dramatic but hori literally out did my own self indulgent wish-fulfillment fanfic with the whole “rest of our lives speech” like I knew that sounded so romantic, and it is, because I literally wrote that line for bakudeku and I intended for it to be romantic

like hori really is just showing us bakudeku fanfic writers how it’s done

[egophiliac]

Sorry, most likely my memory being poor, but I thought Malleus' mom (don't know how to spell her name and too lazy to check how to spell it) was already an adult when Lilia ""proposed""?? Like I was always under the assumption that it was like a one-sided child crush on somebody completely out of your league you tend to have as a kid 💀

I don't think they say how old she was? although it's entirely possible I just misunderstood; my Japanese is...shaky. :') the actual line is "幼い頃に私に求婚したのは偽りか?", which I read as "isn't it true that you proposed to me as a kid?", and took as her being older than him, but not necessarily an adult (like, I was thinking of Lilia as being not quite a preteen and Mel being preteen/young teen). although I don't know if there's a connotation or something I'm missing that implies a bigger age gap, if that makes sense!

(and of course, I might also just be forgetting some other line -- if someone else knows, then please correct me! I need to know which headcanons need adjusting 👀)

BUT YEAH in a canon-y sense, Malleus is 178 and around the third-years developmentally. which makes me think that even though dragons have a way longer lifespan, they go through childhood at about the same rate as most fae (or at least the kind that Lilia is) and just kinda...slow waaaaay down once they hit adulthood. so it makes sense in my brain that he and Meleanor could've basically grown up together!

...it makes it angstier that way, anyway. :)

[xullian]

Thank you toffee for chosing death upon them

Killer belongs to rahafwabas

color belongs to superyoumna

nightmare belongs to jokublog

[luminique]

wrio x you pt. 2 because the people (me too) asked for it

you’re the only exception of people who were in his past that he’d try reconnecting with. he swore to himself that he never would but the memory of you haunted him every day and night.

working in the fortress didn’t even make it easier. he’d reminisce the past during his daily checks, filled with fights, scratches and blood, but you were each other’s rock in this cold and dark prison. sleepless nights where he’d go over to your bunk, you’d both be talking and laughing about the future until other inmates woke up to give both of you a good beating.

a letter wouldn’t hurt. signed and sealed, ‘Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, Wriothesley’ with the wolf insignia on the wax seal. he read the letter multiple times until he got sick of it and threw it in the trash. any and every free time he had, it was spent to write the perfect letter to you.

he even consulted sigewinne, clorinde and neuvillette for more opinions. it was honestly humorous to see the Duke be this… frustrated over something as trivial as a letter. his trash basket was overflowing with crumpled up pieces of paper.

“wriothesley, this letter feels too formal.” was a comment by clorinde about his 10th attempt. “you should add more emotion!” sigewinne responded after reading his 27th attempt. “i am not too familiar with matters relating to human love however i do believe that you have not conveyed that in this letter,” said by neuvillette regarding his 59th attempt.

he lost count of how many letters he had written, how many ink bottles he had opened, how many seals he had stamped. it was eating at him, and now the heavy weight of whether you’d even feel the same way back was beginning to creep in.

the ink pooled on the paper. he had run out of ideas, his hand shaking from the fear of it being imperfect. he couldn’t handle it anymore and let his emotions take over him. every word he wrote that night came straight from his heart instead of his brain, putting aside his own formality and rules for you. it’d be another scrapped attempt anyway…

‘With all my love, Wriothesley’, signed off with no wax seal. he had read somewhere that colored wax was used by sculptors when they made mistakes. this letter was no mistake, his love for you was no mistake.

he used his connections, specifically neuvillette and the maison gardiennage, to find where you had decided to settle down. he originally intended to have it sent to you by courier, but here he was, standing in front of your front door. to have the Duke come all the way up to the surface and hand deliver you his letter, oh how smitten he was over you. a quick fix of his outfit, brushed off any dust and fixed his hair before he knocked on the door.

he could hear your footsteps as you scurried over to the door, your voice behind it.

“i didn’t order anything. why is there a-“

you were cut off by the sight in front of you. his charming smile and blue-grey eyes that captivated you the moment you became friends in the fortress. he straightened up his posture, clearly taken aback by how much you’ve changed but it seemed to go both ways.

“good morning, i believe we have some catching up to do.” he said before holding out the letter for you to take. the sun was still out, there was tea in the kitchen and you had time to spare. next thing you know, you were sitting next to each other on the sofa and chatting about each other’s new lives, times changed yet feelings stayed the same.

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Bruce regrets sound proofing all his children’s rooms

There are some things parents don’t want to know or hear when it comes to their children and it seemed like a great idea at the time.

That being said, as he looked down at his tired youngest, bottle feeding a baby in a way that seems to be half muscle memory, with a look on his face that can only be encompassed by the sentence “oh shit.”

Bruce was suddenly wondering if he made the right call.

[sidhion]

i back. here food.

[fortist166]

I think I’ll take Donny for now until Demetrius reappears

[erinwantstowrite]

I saw that you updated and I'm too scared to actually read the chapter. But I keep opening up the tab before chickening out because of what you said! How sad am I going to get please I need spoilers to prepare myself emotionally 😭

do not worry!!! peter is not in any danger in this chapter (besides the whole "might get his molecules disassembled at any moment" thing but that too is not gonna happen here). the first half of the chapter is peter being comforted and them talking about theories of what happened. we get a wally pov where he goes for help from zatanna, tim pov where he and jason deal with the repercussions of the fight with ohnn, and then a last pov of peter's where he reflects on both worlds and then meets up with an old friend of his we haven't seen in a while :3

[pit-and-the-pen]

Eris- Panic Attack

Eris x mate reader

Pre-established relationship, I’m going to say for the context of his, Eris has panic attacks from time to time.

Summary: Beron has recently died and Eris insisted on cleaning out the throne room himself. He didn’t think the memories of his father would still haunt the room.

Warnings: Panic attack explained pretty in-depth, mentions of cannon typical parental abuse, Beron mention

WC: ~1.5k

————————————————————————

The heavy mahogany doors swung open as Eris pushed on them. He stepped into the familiar space and steadied his breathing. Beron had been dead for a little over a month now. Eris fully stepping into the role of High Lord. Eventually, he would have to start holding court, but not before he wiped any trace of his father from the room. Not that there was much of him in this room. Despite being high lord of Autumn for centuries, the room held a certain degree of emptiness that had nothing to do with his father’s passing. It was as devoid of emotion as his own father.

After looking around Eris found something that made even his hot blood run cold.

He could feel the whip as it bit into his back. Scorching angry red lines into his back. He couldn’t even place the action that had angered his father this time. But one thing led to another and Beron had said something about disloyalty and disappointment. Eris wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying out. So he bit his tongue so hard it bled, repressing the screams he desperately needed to release.

Lucien was kneeling in front of the throne, white shirt torn open. Bright red blood seeped into the fabric. Clinging to his brother's skin and staining the stark fabric, a gut turning maron. Eris couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. Couldn’t form the pleas for his father to stop. He was just a boy, barley 16 years old. Even his other brothers had the decency to look horrified by their fathers actions. Lucien did cry out. The action had earned him more lashings that the servants had to hold him down for. He was going to pass out. His head slumping slightly as his father landed another blow. Just as Eris thought he found the right words, his father paused. He surveyed Lucien like he was nothing more than a piece of meat. A callous tone as he simply said “take him to his room” was all the acknowledgment Lucien was granted by the High Lord. The rest of the siblings stood in a line, silence filling the crowded room. Beron ran his hand along the whip, shaking Lucien’s blood off of his hand. He had the nerve to act disgusted by it. As if the blood would taint his hands simply by touching it. Eris had never felt fury like this before. At Beron. At himself. At his complaint mother who just stood by Berons side and didn’t so much as try to convince him to stop his cruel punishment. Eris declared right then and there that when the time came, he would make sure that Berons death would be at his hands.

Eris willed his eyes to pull into focus. He blinked against the dark that bit at the edge of his vision. His hands would not stop shaking as he held the whip. He couldn't let go of it for some reason, like the leather hilt had burned his flesh to it.

He had regretted his decision to enter the room at that very moment but some prideful part of him demanded he should be the one to do it. What he hadn’t considered was the memories this room held. Memories that couldn’t go away at just the mere passing of his father. One small object in the room and that’s all it took to reduce the recently crowned high lord to nothing more than a scared babe.

His breathing. He needed to control his breathing but it felt like sandpaper as he clutched for some semblance of rationality. He couldn’t suck in air fast enough and he knew that he was hyperventilating but couldn’t stop it. He felt his knees starting to buckle under him. A firm hand slamming against the nearest wall was all he could do to stop from falling to his knees right there. The whip finally falling from his hands as he felt a cold sweat break over his entire body.

The blood roaring in his ears drowned out the sound of the door swinging open again. He all but jumped out of his skin at the feeling of your hands on his shoulders. You rubbed gentle circles into the back of his neck and that was all it took for Eris to fall to his knees. Your soft touch was such a stark contrast to the phantom pain he felt rip across his body only moments before.

When he finally had the strength to open his eyes, he found you sitting on your knees in front of him. Your own eyes filled with sympathy and it was enough to break him. Years ago that look would have him storming off, terrified of how that one look seemed to stare into his very soul and rip him apart. But now, he used your eyes to ground him in the present. The fact that you were here in this room was enough to send his mind into overdrive the need to protect you from some long gone force took over his mind.

He must have sent that feeling down the body because he felt a calming wave of love in response. You didn’t move for a second, seeming to fully take in the situation that was unfolding in front of you.

As you had done so many times before, you slowly lifted Eris’ hands and gently put it on your own chest. You took deep breaths and Eris found himself struggling to time his with yours. It took a few tries but he felt his lungs open up. The scratch still there but manageable as he all but panted in time with your steady breathing.

Once he got his breathing to a more steady rhythm, you went to remove his hand from your chest and Eris simply laid his free hand on top of yous. Unwilling to let the comfort of your heartbeat disappear. You didn’t shake him off, instead you shuffled closer to him until your knees were pressed against his own. He watched you move in slow motion as you tenderly placed your forehead against his. He closed his eyes as he gulped down breaths of your smell. Caramel and cinnamon. His lips ghosted over yours, not truly kissing but enough that your breathing finally in sync and he could taste your sweet smell as you exhaled

The two of you sat like this until the trembling in his body stopped. The tension still clung into his shoulders and was already starting to give him a headache. You could pick up on that too. You were always so attentive and aware of his moods. It used to terrify him but the longer the bond held , the more he let you see his part of him. The part that wasn’t a high lord who killed his own father for a role he had been training his whole life for.

Pulling his hands free from your chest, Eris fumbled frantically to wrap his arms around you. His head going to the crook of your neck at the same time you carded your fingers into his precious red hair. He all but purred when you used your nails to scratch his scalp.

You didn’t ask what was wrong. It wasn’t necessary. All it took was that pure fear that traveled down the bond and you were sprinting through the large estate, one you were still unfamiliar with due to spending all of your time at the forest house. So all you did was offer him a small “I love you”. It didn't matter that his throat was too raw to say it back. None of that mattered. You would spend the rest of your life telling you t to him without a response if it meant he would believe those three words.

Much to your surprise, you felt the words mumble into your neck and you just held him tighter. You held him until he gave you three tight squeezes, the signal he gave you when he was back down to earth. You held his face in your hands and gave him a chaste kiss. Pulling him up to his feet, I led him out of the throne room. Letting him know that this wasn’t something he had to do today, at all or alone.

[viperwhispered]

Too Hard

Woop part 2 of the trip inside Jamil's head. Part 1 here.

The next time Jamil caught sight of you on campus, his first instinct was to turn around on his heel.

What a stupid thought to have because of you.

Besides, that would only make him more conspicuous, not less.

So, when your eyes met his, Jamil gave you a short nod in greeting. He would’ve left it at that and kept on his way, had you not walked up to him.

“Hi Jamil! How’s it going?” you said with that impossibly disarming smile of yours.

Why was it so difficult to look at you like he normally would? You had no right to make him feel so stiff, so unnatural.

On autopilot, Jamil exchanged a few pleasantries with you - those lessons from his parents had been instilled too deep in him for him to falter too badly in a simple exchange such as this. Still, Jamil quickly excused himself by telling you he still had to find Kalim before his next class.

Jamil didn’t miss the way your smile faltered. Had you hoped to get something out of him?

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you two later, then.”

Something about that irked him, though Jamil did not allow himself to dwell on it further.

His heart really had no business still racing as it did when he walked away, unaware of the frown on his face.

Just act normal. That’s all he needed to do.

After all, he had no time for dwelling in silly fancies.

If Jamil had been acutely aware of you before, it only seemed to worsen now that he was making a conscious effort to not act any differently with you. In fact, the harder he tried to keep you out, the more you invaded his thoughts, unsettling him.

The most innocuous words from you looped in his mind, and even the simplest actions caught his eye. For goodness's sake, he’d found himself staring at you while you were queueing up in the cafeteria the other day, not even doing anything other than standing around and looking bored!

For once, Jamil found himself grateful for all his duties. At least they provided him with something else to occupy himself with.

After all, if he was busy enough, it was difficult to think about those bright eyes of yours, your sweet laugh, or the way you bit your lip while thinking.

Still, sometimes it felt like no matter which way he turned, you were there, ready to throw him off-kilter. Not like it was his fault that often the most convenient route to class intersected with your daily routines. Or that your face seemed to jump out from any crowd, catching his attention.

Which certainly did not help his basketball performance. Jamil certainly did not recall you having such an interest in sports before, yet suddenly you were always there, distracting him. What had changed?

Could you possibly-

Jamil scoffed to himself, forcing his thoughts back on track for the nth time that day.

He picked up the tray of food and started taking it to Kalim. After dinner, he’d need to help Kalim with his homework, there were some housewarden tasks that would need dealing with, not to mention the preparations for the next-

Jamil froze in his tracks.

The voice he heard was quiet, but it was unmistakably you.

Really, it should not have come as such a surprise to him. You had become a rather frequent visitor to Scarabia, and Kalim often invited you to stay for meals. In fact, Jamil had started planning the dorm’s meal prep with your tastes and dietary restrictions in mind, just in case.

Jamil rounded the corner with strange exhilaration, his heart fluttering needlessly.

Yet, his mood evaporated when he saw you.

Why did you stop talking and look so guilty as soon as you caught sight of Jamil?

Jamil knew that look you gave to Kalim, had used it himself a thousand times. The one telling Kalim to keep quiet about something.

What could there possibly be that you would be comfortable sharing with Kalim, but not with him? That would give Kalim reason to sit so close to you, a comforting hand on your shoulder?

Jamil's mind raced with possibilities, yet could not settle for any single explanation.

He’d have to ask Kalim about it later.

Jamil gave you a short, polite greeting, his eyes lingering on you in an attempt to read what you were hiding.

“If I’d known you were coming over, I would’ve prepared something for you to eat as well,” Jamil said, already thinking about which parts of the dorm’s dinner to spruce up for you.

“Oh, no need, just figured I’d pop by. I’ll get out of your hair soon enough,” you said, something sheepish about your expression.

As expected, Kalim asked you to stay and dine with them, and with just a bit more persuasion you agreed - though not before telling Jamil that he should join you too and have himself a breather.

And since Kalim agreed with you, Jamil soon found himself sharing a meal with you and Kalim. Yet, even as he sat down with the food, his mind raced.

Had you been getting particularly close to Kalim lately? But surely Jamil would’ve noticed such a thing. Maybe someone from the dorm had been giving you trouble? But if that was the case, then surely you could let Jamil know about it, too. Unless for some reason you did not want to? But if it was something that concerned Kalim, then sooner or later it was bound to concern Jamil, too.

All the while, Kalim was talking to you about this and that, the latest topic being the animals kept on the Asim estate.

“I’ve got some pictures, let me show you!” Kalim said with an excited grin.

Only, a thorough patting of his pockets and a look around confirmed that Kalim’s phone was nowhere to be seen.

Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose. Where had Kalim left it this time?

Before Jamil even had the chance to say that he would handle it, Kalim sprinted off. Jamil hesitated for a moment, automatically halfway up from his seat, before he decided that leaving a guest unattended would be a worse offense than not helping out his master.

Jamil slumped back down with a sigh, mentally tracing the path Kalim took today, trying to recall the last time he saw Kalim handle his phone.

“Breathe. He’ll manage,” you said. There was the faintest of smiles on your lips, and Jamil could not decide if it was knowing or amused. Perhaps both.

Somehow, despite his frustration, Jamil’s own lips wanted to curl up too.

“Hmm. Maybe he will.”

Sure, Jamil could’ve called Kalim’s phone, to make it easier to find, but it was not that urgent, was it?

Jamil took another bite of his food, keeping an eye on you from the corner of his eye.

How was his mind so empty and so buzzing at the same time?

“You know-”

“So-”

You looked at each other, both just as surprised that the other had spoken up at the same time.

Even your surprised look was so-

“You first,” Jamil said. The way you bit your lip... Jamil had to raise a cup to his lips, slowly sipping his drink.

“Just… Feels like it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you be still, you know. Or exchanged more than two words with you,” you said. You were attempting a light, joking tone, yet it was quite clear there was more to it.

“You say that like it would be unusual for me to be busy.”

He was not prepared for the way your soft sigh tugged at his heartstrings.

“No. It is not.”

You were both quiet after, poking at your meals. Normally, Jamil would’ve cherished such a moment of peace, yet this particular silence between you two was decidedly awkward.

Where was your usual chatter? Why weren’t you looking at him like you usually did?

“If you’re worried about me, don’t. I’m fine,” Jamil said, some softness creeping into his tone despite his best intentions.

“That's what Kalim said too,” you said. Yet the way you looked at Jamil made it clear you were still skeptical.

Wait.

Had you clammed up earlier because it had been Jamil you had been talking about with Kalim? That Kalim had comforted you about?

The thought twisted his stomach into knots.

Eta: you can find part 3 here, part 4 here, and finally part 5 here. Hasdhfsdf the way I fought with that last scene I swear. I don't even want to know how many versions I went through, trying to figure out how to say what I wanted without rubbing it into your face or making it too veiled. The joys of trying to convey things through a limited pov. Hopefully it came out reasonably balanced in the end. Rip to all those sentences that were lovely on their own but didn’t work for the whole. Hopefully I can rehome y’all one day. I do have thoughts for part 3 and part x (might be some chapters between those two as well, who knows at this point), so maybe we'll see those at some point, too. Tag list: @colliope @crystallizsch @diodellet @jamilsimpno69 @jamilvapologist @twstgo If you'd like to be tagged for future works, let me know! (Just be aware that sometimes I do also write nsfw, though you can certainly ask to be tagged only for particular kinds of works.)