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.”
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silver vanrouge. when silver wakes up from a dream, you are the first thing he searches for.
Silver finds you in the aftermath.
Amidst the wreckage of it all, even in this world that possesses so much grandeur of magic, you are a vision that he has only ever seen in his most darling dreams; bloody and exhausted, the tips of your fingers stained black with blot─ the same colour as Malleus's hair, the same colour that the beloved Draconic Prince bleeds now as Divus fusses over him. But his brother is a Fae of the greatest breeding, a dragon's son born from acrid flame and green lightning; his skin would stitch itself back together, and he would be whole again.
Silver cannot yet say the same for himself.
He is exhausted. The sweet arms of Morpheus beckon to him, the home of his magic calling him back to that dreaded sleep. Or perhaps it is just the strain of it all, the force of his Unique Magic being stretched over so many dreams in so many hours. His boots scuff over the gravel and debris as he drags himself towards you, step by step.
"Silver?" Somewhere through the fog that clouds his eyes and the ringin in his ears, he registers the uncharacteristic softness of Sebek's voice. Silver lifts his foot to take another step, but finds the weight of his own muscle too much, and he stumbles. Sebek startles, and Silver feels him grasp his arm. "Silver! Don't─"
"I─I'm fine," Silver croaks, his voice hoarse. His eyes blur, but still you cut a figure at the center of it all, haloed by the light of the rising sun and the darkness of his brother's blood. His Sleeping Beauty, your head raising as you hear the commotion. There are more people clamouring to aid Silver, but there is only you in the reflection of his irises; your expression as your brows furrow, eyes widening as you stumble to your feet.
"Silver?" you call his name, oh-so-soft despite the distance that stands between the two of you. Silver is reminded again of that vision you in his dreams, welcoming him home in that soft voice and sweet smile. He takes another step, his body protesting.
You're a dream.
"What are you...?" Lilia croaks as he sees the beaten human passing, but his son only rests his palm over his shoulder, squeezing the small frame of his father. Silver stumbles forward as if he held the burden of a hundred heavy stones. A beat passes, and Lilia realises what he wants.
He does not stop him from reaching for it.
You had stood by now, your own exhaustion forgotten as you realise where Silver is headed. He must be a sight for sore eyes, battle-beaten and exhausted beyond all measure. And still, he has to get to you─
You're still there.
Silver recognises that you are nothing like the visage in his dreams. You had been sweeter then, softened around the edges and holding none of that bitterness you cradled to yourself in your time in Night Raven College. No overblots, no slacking headmasters─ just that little cottage and the garden in your backyard, your lover's boots tracking mud and soil over the carpet. And still he wanted─ he longed.
After that long, endless night, all he wanted was you again.
"Silver!" you gasp as you reach him, and Silver allows himself to hold you. His arms, bruised and weak as they are, wrap around your waist, holding onto you with the strength that he had lacked just earlier. "Oh, Great Seven, are you─"
"You're here," he exhales breathlessly, pressing his forehead to yours. His arms shift, the scratched surface of his palms pressing to your cheeks, and he hears your breath hitch.
( He had held you like this, once upon a dream. It is only now that Silver realised how much more tender it felt in reality. )
"…Silver?"
"You're here," he whispers again, almost as if he can say nothing else. A weak laugh bubbles at his throat. "I found you."
For that single moment suspended in time, you say nothing. But then Silver feels your arms wind around his torso, reciprocating his embrace.
"You found me," you murmur, squeezing him lightly. Silver wonders, as your nails dig into his back through the fabric and leather of his uniform, if you are subconsciously trying to assure yourself that he is not a dream.
"Did you have a bad dream?" you ask him.
It takes a moment for Silver to realise you are attempting something of a joke, perhaps to ease the tension and the horror of what had just transpired and ended moments before. Another laugh bubbles at his throat, one of disbelief and such tender fondness.
"No," Silver admits honestly, pulling away. His hands cup your cheeks still, ever so gentle. "No, I didn't."
You laugh then, equal parts fond and puzzled. Silver leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours; his nose nudges against yours, his breath warm and airy and real. You shudder, clutching onto him tighter.
"What's gotten into you?" you ask with another breathless laugh, even though you are now the one clutching to him like a lifeline.
Silver lets out a slow, shuddering breath, brushing the traces of blood that still bled from a cut at your cheekbone. This close, he can count the little marks upon your skin and pinpoint the exact colour of your irises. He imagine you again in his dreamscape, domestic and sweet and oh so lovely.
"You're a dream," he says softly.
You stare at him like a deer caught in the headlight, doe eyes unblinking. Someone, perhaps his father or Sebek, chokes on their spit somewhere close by. Silver does not notice. A moment passes, then another, and then your eyes crinkle into these lovely crescent moons, and you begin to laugh.
"Well, aren't you sappy today?" you muse, lips quirking up into that soft smile that Silver oh so longs to kiss. "What's the occasion?"
He is suddenly struck with a sense of deja vu, like he had heard your words before. His heart stutters, and suddenly, he finds himself speaking, the words not properly registering in his mind before they come tumbling out of his mouth.
"I'm no prince," Silver confesses. The sun had begun its ascent in the horizon, casting a new dawn upon this land of dreams come true, but all he can see was you in the daylight, the sunbeams illuminating your lovely expression of shock. He goes on before he can stop himself. "Perhaps I could have been, once. Not anymore. I am the brother of an heir, the son of a general─ but I have neither title nor fortune to offer you."
"Silver," you say softly, breathless. Your eyes are soft, almost pitying as he seems to put himself down.
"The man who loved the woman who bore me was no different. All we have is the iron of our blade and the promise of a knight's devotion. And yet─" Silver swallows. "And yet─ And yet, I long for more with you. More than the sworn oath from a knight to his monarch─"
Sebek makes a noise of protest, only to be cut off by the swift jab of Lilia's elbow against his ribs.
"─more than a promise of a friend to be by your side."
You laugh weakly, almost unsure as you glanced around. "Silver, are we doing this here─?"
"I dreamt I was back home again," Silver goes on, cutting you off─ not too unkindly, he hopes. He understands that it is most improper to cut someone off as they are speaking, but he needs to speak first, he needed you to know all the things he did not dare to confess to you before─ "Lili─ My father, he─ he has a lovely cottage in the forest, far in the outskirts of Briar Valley. There's a garden out in the back where we grow our fruit and vegetables, and the trees in the forest bear fruit sweeter than anything you've tastes and I─ I─"
He falters then at the look in your eyes, the soft and knowing curve of your lips as he stumbles over his words. Silver looks down at the scuffed toes of his boots, swallowing once more before he speaks again.
"I─ I love─ I love you," he breathed out shakily, almost pleading for you to acknowledge the truth. You had kissed and he had held you in his arms before, but such an admission... Silver feels as though he is teetering at the edge of a cliff. "I have nothing to offer you except an oath that I will hold these affections for you dearly till the end of time and that cottage where I learned how to love and hate and live all the same─"
"Silver─"
"But just a word from you, and I will be silent forever─"
"Silver!" you raise your voice to be heard over his rambling. It is so uncharacteristic, almost odd to see this boy that had only shown his affection to you through lovely and subtle gestures and whispers rather than the bold declaration of those three certain words, awoken from his cursed sleep as a rambling, flustered mess.
Silver raises his head, helpless as you laugh sweetly at him, and he loathes to think of a world where he had never woken up and heard the true melody with his own ears again. He wants to fulfill his oath, to give you all the love he possesses in this wretched body of his, and then some.
Your fingers come to card through the matted strands of his hair, moonshine under all the dust and dirt. When your hand comes to cup his face again, tilting his head to meet your gaze, your eyes are just as lovely as he remembers in his dream.
"I love you too."
And Silver's heart sings to have its song reciprocated once again, to be loved by you as he was once upon a dream. You laugh again at the expression on his face, that sweet melody that he wants to hear for the rest of his life. He has no ring to give you now, but Lilia hollers something at him, and Silver's mind is so dazed by the smile on your face that he does not realise it until you take his face in your palms and kiss him hard.
"Come home with me?" he whispers hoarsely when you pull away, and his mouth still seeks to touch your cheek, your nose, the space between your brows. Silver loathes to part from you again. Perhaps he never will.
"Yes," you giggle, lips meeting his once again. "A thousand times, yes."
“Forever, I’ll be by your side. No matter the circumstances.”
Summary: Silver catches you in the act of avoiding him, and confronts you about what could be going on.
slight angst?
Silver noticed you had been feeling down lately. “What could possibly be on their mind? This isn’t like them…” he thought. “Knock, knock.” You heard knocking on your door. Curious as to who it could be, you walked up to the door and opened it. It was Silver. You had been avoiding him so as to not worry him. You were afraid of burdening him with what was bothering you. But ah, it’s too late now, isn’t it?
“Y/N…..What’s wrong? You’ve been avoiding me lately…..Am I a bother to you? You can tell me about it, you know. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to quell or put an end to your troubles and worries, but I can at least try to do SOMETHING.” He seems quite worried, and…..mad at himself?
Fidgeting with your hands, you told him, “No, no, no!!! That’s not it!!!!! It’s just…lately, whenever I’m with my family, I feel like I……don’t belong. I’ve been arguing with them on the phone lately, too.”
“Y/N…..I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can help you. Thank you for telling me, though. As you could probably guess, I’ve never really had family issues, so I don’t know how to help. But, if you’ll allow it, let me be by your side. I can at least listen, and be there for you. I promise I’ll be there for you. Forever, I’ll be by your side. No matter the circumstances.”
Suddenly, you were crying. Smiling, you asked him, “You promise?”
Wiping your tears, he replied, “I promise. I love you, Y/N. Forever, always; I will. Know that.”
Chuckling at his words, you smiled even brighter. “Thank you, Silver. I love you, too.”
Can I order a Headcanon for Twisted Wonderland with Diasomnia and a male reader who has a terminal illness and his life span is coming to an end.
Ooooh, angsty. I love it! Here you go dear Anon. One angsty headcanon coming right up!
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Till death, do we part...
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Sebek Zigvolt
You had been diagnosed for awhile now, but you'd yet to speak to about your illness to anyone– mostly for fear that they would begin to treat you like some sort of charity case. The only one you had told was Lilia, who said he would keep his lips sealed. So you kept it hidden until, well, you couldn't.
The disease started out small. Only giving you minor headaches and pinching in your legs. Now? You could barely stand without sobbing in pain. Your head was pounding against you like a second heartbeat.
A loud bang coming from the entrance of your bedroom rang inside your head, looking over you saw him– Sebek, his face contorted into a mix of anger, fear, and sadness. Behind him stood Lilia, eyes filled guilt and melancholy.
"Prefect..", Sebek started, " Why? Why would you hide this from me?" He finished, eyes swelling with tears that could burst any second.
You knew what the answer was. You knew your thought process was selfish. You knew that, and yet, you couldn't stop yourself, even at your weakest your own pride still burned through you brighter than any flame.
"I-...I don't know, Sebek.", you spoke gently, "I'm sorry."
Your eyes to began to swell up with tears as Sebek crouched down and held you within his arms.
After Sebek finds out he becomes less of himself.
He stops obsessing over Malleus, stops yelling all the time, and being so- so him.
Instead he's more calm and silent. It's eerie.
He never really got the chance to confess his feelings for you before you got sick so now he spends all his time doing things with you to make up for all the lost time.
Sebek looks to Lilia for help on how to care for you during this time.
When you inevitably pass Sebek is there, your head in his lap as you gaze at the stars together.
Small droplets of water fall onto your face as, for the last time, you close your eyes, take a breath, and smile.
-----------------------------
Silver
You don't remember how longs it's been since you had left the hospital. You don't know how long you had spent inside your bedroom. You can't remember how long you've been just sitting there. Your brain repeating what the nurse had said to you over and over again.
A gentle knocking coming from your bedroom door is what snaps you out of your dissociative thoughts, alongside the soft voice accompanying it.
"May I come dear?"
The voiced belonged to Silver– ever so kind, gentle, and hardworking Silver. Always there to make sure that you take care of yourself.
"Come in..", you replied.
The door creaked open as Silver stepped in, stopping in his tracks when he saw your face. The expression held emotions he had never seen from you, if he didn't know you so well he probably wouldn't be able to recognize them.
Guilt
Grief
And most of all, regret.
"What happened?", he asked softly
When Silver finds out he kinda doesn't change all that much. Aside from the fact that he becomes more diligent of his sleeping habits.
He tries not to fall asleep all the time cause he wants to cherish every second you guys have left together.
He's even more gentle than ever and tries to take care of you as much as he can.
He also goes to Lilia to ask for some help.
He gets a tiny bit more short tempered, mostly around Sebek, who was never filled in.
When you pass it happens to be when you and Silver are cuddling.
He holds your body close to him as he begins to sob uncontrollably, only letting go with the gentle words of his father.
-----------------------------
Lilia Vanrouge
The road to the hospital was bumpy and rough, only making your anxiety heighten even more with each and every bump. Lilia had assured you would be okay. Even going as far to hold your hand the while car ride.
And even as you two sat waiting impatiently for the doctor to call you back, he never let go of your hand. He kept a tight grip on your hand once the doctor did appear, and begun to squeeze it even tighter when they started the blood work. His grip had softened by the time the nurse came back to the news.
"Sir I'm afraid you may have a terminal illness.", the nurse spoke gently, "We aren't quite sure what exactly it is. Further testing will be needed to fully confirm so. We've already scheduled you for another appointment on Saturday. I'll give you two a moment to take it all in."
Ooh boy
Lilia was well prepared for you to die, almost every person he ever cared for has.
But this young?
That stung him deep within his heart.
He makes sure to spend as much time with you as possible.
He also tries take care of you.
Key word "Tries"
You're pretty sure that eating Lilia's food will make you die faster.
But he makes up for his lack of cooking skills with his tremendous ability to make you laugh.
Even when your lungs feel weak and breathing takes a heavy toll on your, he can somehow still make you giggle like a little school boy.
He never once cries about your condition, atleast not in front of you. But you can tell.
His eyes are always puffy and his cheeks, once so full and round, harden into jagged lines across his face.
By the time your ready to go Lilia's condition has worsened, despite the fleeting attempts from his children to get help he refuses.
He doesn't want to let you go.
His hand slides into yours as you take your final breaths.
-----------------------------
Malleus Draconia
*BANG*
Your eyes snap open as the raoring thunder cracks the night sky. No stars were in sight, only dark grey clouds as rain poured down like bullets from the sky.
Rubbing your tired eyes, you let your vision settle for a moment. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness a voice spoke from the corner of your room.
"Child of man..."
*BANG*
The thunder cracked once more, causing you to flinch in fear. Looking up you were met with bright green eyes, almost glaring into your soul.
"Malleus?", you questioned softly,"What's wrong? Why are you here?"
"You've been hiding from me-", his voice tight, filled with venom, "Why?"
"Oh..." you replied quietly. Guilt filled you, you knew it was a bad idea to hide from your friends, but you didn't want them to worry about you either.
Sighing you decide to speak up, "Well..."
Malleus was pretty pissed off before you told him.
But after you explained what was going on he softened immediately
Deciding in that moment that from then on, he would be your caretaker.
You could smile while internally you cursed whatever God you had wronged in a past life.
From that day onhe would help you with everything feeding you, helping you walk, giving you your meds, Malleus was there to do it for you.
It got to the point where he was blantaly neglecting his own duties as both a prince and a housewarden.
Lilia was the one who reeled him back in, and came up with the most brilliant idea.
If they turned you into a fae he wouldn't have to take care of anymore and you wouldn't be sick any longer.
Plus you would be able to spend the rest of eternity with him as both his lover and Prince of Briar Valley.
It was an amazing idea! So much so he couldn't wait to do the ritual and did it as soon as possible.
Without your full consent, however.
But it's fine, right? You were dying, and this'll make sure you never get sick again!
"I know it hurts my love, but you just have to push through. So we can be together forever..."
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Sorry this took me so long to finish, but I had a lot of fun making this. Hopefully more people will make some good requests like this one.
── KISS ME ONCE AND KISS ME TWICE AND KISS ME ONCE AGAIN
silver vanrouge. silver dreams of you, always you. it only makes it far more painful to break from the chains of malleus' curse to seek the you that exists beyond his dreamscape.
Silver has always taken his time with you.
He has never been able to tell you why. Lilia says that it is just the way he is, ever since he was a boy; he plays by the rules, he goes by a routine that is, as much as possible, not too affected by his strange sleeping habits.
it is why he goes through the meticulous steps of courting you, offering you flowers and gifting you with thoughtful trinkets and even writing letters for your family while your worlds remain separate. It is why it had to be you to take the first step and kiss him one night during a star-gazing date because gods damn it all, you’re sick of waiting.
( Silver had laughed and laughed that night as you apologised for your callous actions; because you were so cute, because he was so in love, because it had all felt like a dream come true when he allowed himself to ignore tradition to cup your cheeks and pull you into another kiss. )
Silver discovers very early on that even when he takes his time, it's all still overwhelming. Like a dream come true, he used to tell Lilia in bouts of deliriousness when he was still caught between dream and reality and his mind was too muddled with sleep to care about embarrassing himself in front of the fae who had raised him.
Like a dream come true.
But what is his dream, exactly?
A cottage deep in the forest of briar valley, with ivy growing up the walls and over the red-tiled roof. Soft, packed dirt with growing flowers of all kinds, spring blossoms of pink, yellow, blue, red, protected by a low wall. There are no horrors with dripping ink and dragging claws, no glowing emerald eyes or scaled wings. Just grass and flowers and sky and nothing.
No. Not nothing. Because there's you.
"I just cleaned, so remember to take off your boots by the door!" Silver hears you call out from inside the cottage. His chest quakes as he lets out a ragged breath, his bag dropping as he rids himself of the extra weight.
The floor below his dirty boots is clean slate compared to the cluttered kitchen to his left and the living area to his right. Silver sees the same threadbare couch by the stone fireplace, cluttered with throw pillows and blankets and an unfinished knitting project. The couch is old. Used. Loved. There are some closed doors beyond the stairs, but Silver doesn't have to check to know what lies behind them. His old childhood bedroom where Lilia used to tuck him in. A bathroom that has been flooded one or more than a few times when he got too carried away with playtime. The small study where he used to have his lessons on reading and writing.
There's something about the sight of his childhood home that sets Silver off, as if he’s caught in crosswinds, but he fumbles his way inside anyway, toeing his shoes off out of ingrained politeness. His footfalls feel heavy and light all at once against the wooden floors as he walks — almost as if by habit — to the kitchen where he had heard your voice come from.
"There you are," you beam at him, putting a kettle of water on top of the same stove that Silver had watched his father cook his meals so many times. Your brows furrow when you notice the strange expression on his face; the emotions whirling in his aurora irises like a hurricane and the trembling of his bottom lip.
You frown, wiping your hands on a cloth rag. "Silver? what's wrong?"
Silver lets out a ragged breath, his hand shaking as it comes up to cradle your own as you cup his face in your palm. What is wrong? This is all he's ever wanted, isn't it? A life with you in the woods he had grown up in, free of worries and dangers and hurt and anger. He's built a home with no fear, no yelling, no uncertainties. Just like the life lilia always wanted to give him.
It's a dream come true.
"You're a dream," Silver whispers when he realises, his hands coming up to cradle your face in turn. He's shaking, he knows that even with his mind whirling, but he just can't help it— he has to touch you, make sure this isn't— this isn't a nightmare—
No. No, no, no. Malleus wouldn't do that. This is his dream. This is what his heart has always yearned for.
"My dream."
"Well, aren't you sappy today?" you muse, lips quirking up in that soft smile that Silver oh so adores to kiss. "What's the occasion?"
"I—" Silver opens his mouth, but no words come out. What can he say? What can he do, knowing that this is all he's ever wanted, but this is a dream. This is a dream and you're not real but gods, does silver want you to be.
A beat passes, and your smile turns sad.
"You know, don't you?"
Silver feels his heart ache. He wants to tell you no. No, please keep this veil over my eyes. Pretend i don’t know this isn’t real. Please. Please.
You reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear with such tenderness that he feels like crying. “You’ve always been so smart, Silver.”
“I’m sorry,” he allows himself to say, because this is the least he owes you— this perfect imitation of you that his mind, Malleus’s magic, has managed to conjure, because in the short time you’ve known him, you’ve managed to ingrain yourself into every fibre of his being so that even under this spell, all Silver can dream about is you, you, you.
Silver doesn't want to wake up. He doesn't, he really doesn't. There's something in him that pulls at his heartstrings, tugging at every vein and nerve as if begging him to stay, please stay. There must be a reason why you're always falling asleep, why this had to happen. Just stay. This is a dream come true, why would you want to wake up?
“You’re still there,” Silver says in a voice so small, it feels like he’s a little boy again, crying and clinging onto Lilia like the fever that sticks to his skin and reminds him of his mortality.
“You’re still there, and I’m here.”
His childhood home is small, but within the cottage and with your hands cradling his face, the thick walls feels unnaturally closer, like something is breathing on the back of his neck. He’s reminded of you, somewhere in Night Raven College, trapped within your own dream. Do you dream of him, he wonders? Has he become your new dream, just as you have become his?
Will he ever see you again?
Silver can't bear the thought of you somehow waking up from your dream — a matter of when rather than if, because Silver knows that you've always had a knack for getting out of impossible situations like this — and realising that he had left you alone to stay in this eternal sleep, with this dream– this illusion of what could have been.
“I have to go,” Silver whispers, and his heart breaks because this might be a dream, but it’s still you. How can he tell you he’s going to leave? He can’t do that. He can’t break your heart like that, he can’t—
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry— I'm so, so sorry.”
He expects you to stop him. What do the stories say about dreams where you’re supposed to be kept unaware, blissfully oblivious to the fact that this utopia is not your reality? Silver expects this dream version of you to pull some sort of trick to lure him back into your trap—
But instead you just smile softly, reaching out to stroke his face, "How lucky I am to have someone like you love me."
Silver hears something crack, resonating in his soul. Is it the chains of Malleus’s magic breaking its hold on him, or the last pieces of his heart shattering at last? He doesn’t know.
Maybe it’s both.
But whatever it is, Silver knows he doesn’t have much time. His hands cup your cheeks, pulling you close to him with the desperation of a dying man.
He feels you gasp against his mouth, lips parting and allowing his tongue to slip inside. He maps the cavern of your mouth as if immortalising it in his mind, like he’ll never see you again after this— because that is very well a possibility, no matter how he tries to ignore it.
Silver kisses you like it’s his last day in this godforsaken world, because it might as well be, and great seven, he should have done this every time he kissed you. He should have kissed you first. He should have kissed you every moment he could instead of taking his time because now he can hear the sand running in the hourglass, and he’s blind to how much time he has left, and he just wants to see you in the flesh again, please, please, please—
The two of you part an eternity later, but it still feels much too soon. There’s so much love in him, and too little time, and Silver feels like drowning.
"Wait for me," Silver pleads. He'll make this dream come true, he swears. He’ll give you all the love he has in this wretched body of his, and then some. He’ll never sleep again even, if only to make this dream come true.
"I will," you whisper breathlessly—
—and with a bittersweet smile and a final, fleeting kiss to his lips, you let him go.
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