#silver drabbles

[trappolia]

KISS ME ONCE AGAIN ── silver x gn!reader, 1.6k

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 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 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's still caught between dream and reality and his mind is 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 silver 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 think 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.

© trappolia 2024

[hanafubukki]

Summary: Baby Dragon Malleus comforts a teething Silver. He thinks all adults are idiots.

Baby Malleus coos at Baby Silver as he cries.

Silver has started teething. His painful cries had Malleus purring at him.

Silver, red and teary, pulled the dragon closer to him.

Where’s papa? Malleus can’t help but wonder. Papa will surely fix Silver.

Papa was an idiot, Malleus concluded.

Malleus had seen papa and another human talking.

It seemed the other human gave all the treatment he could to help his little brother.

Both of them. Idiots.

His baby brother was still uncomfortable, tears leaking from his eyes occasionally.

But it seemed Silver took comfort from the coolness of his tail, so he kept it wrapped around him at all times.

“Malleus. It’s time for Silver to ea-Ow!”

Lilia shook his bitten hand.

Idiot Papa.

This…thing Silver chewed on seemed to help.

But not for long, it was constantly changed.

“Mrrow?”

Silver wiggles before pulling Malleus closer.

The...thing needed to be cold. He can make it cold!

Malleus blew on it. Silver laughed at the cooling sensation before burrowing his face into Malleus’ wings.

“Malleus?! Did you freeze Silver’s teethers?!”

“Whatever Master Malleus did seemed to help, young Silver is sleeping soundly.”

Malleus smirked and curled around Silver, pulling him closer. Silver babbled and laughed happily in his sleep while patting Malleus.

See? He could take care of his family.

Everyone else was idiots.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea, Right?

An Eris x Reader drabble

(Part 2) (Part 3)

Warnings: a bit smutty, language

“Your dad’s going to kill you.”

My head was pounding. This bed was so warm.

Last night was a blur.

Nyx, how many times do I have to request that you not intrude on my thoughts before 9 am.

“It’s almost noon, cousin.”

Shit!

Shit, cover for me! Please.

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

Right. I know. Cover for me anyway?

“One hour. Be here in one hour. You owe me.”

Don’t worry, Nyxie. I’ll cover for you the next time you visit the lovely daughter of Spring.

Slamming my mental shields up, I rolled over to the fiery lover next to me with a groan, “Get me out of this autumnal wasteland.”

“Good morning to you too, little one.” the redhead pressed against my backside grumbled.

I rolled over to smack his shoulder. “Gross, Eris. I’m the same age as Aunt Nesta when you proposed to her.”

Eris smirked. “She never called me daddy like you do.”

I let out a mirthful laugh, hoisting myself on top of him, straddling just below his rippled abdomen, “I’m never fucking you again.”

“You say that every time, dear.” Gripping his hands on my hips, groggy voice a whisper, “Yet somehow you keep falling back into my bed.”

Fuck. He was so hot.

I leaned down, pressing my breasts to his bare chest, face just an inch from his. “I can’t help that my shadows love how you beg.”

A growl escaped the back of his throat as my shadows restrained his wrists above his head. My gaze turned icy as I commanded, “Eyes on me, Eris.”

His only response a shift of his hips.

“Don’t fucking move.” I purred.

Nyx could keep the family off my back for a little longer.

[kamapon]

The day they met

[llondonfog]

Wailing about “you love me so you’ll love my child” but w melleanor and silver

"—and do not let Vanrouge within twenty meters of the kitchens, is that clear, Counselor? Inform the kitchen staff that they have my exact permission to maim him on sight with the nearest sharp object. Oh, do not duck your face like a quivering kitten as if I cannot see that grimace, Counselor— that man has survived much worse and scraped through with life and limb and still persists to terrorize us all with his presence, isn't that right, my dear one?"

From within her arms, Lilia's child coos and babbles something far more intelligent than her trailing, fretful advisors back at her, and she taps a dark painted talon delicately against its plush cheek in fond agreement.

Lilia's child.

Meleanor rolls the words silently within her mouth, holds them there to taste the strange, but pleasant, flavor of their meaning.

Of all the fae in all their lands, who would have ever dared to dream that Lilia Vanrouge would take to a child like a fish to water, or a fledgling to the skies?

She can still hear him now, grumbling and griping so about the burden of children, their helplessness and neediness as unnecessarily weak creatures. In a rare form of mercy, not once did she pry— for how could she, when she knew the answer even if it was not in specifics? When fae were perishing at the hands of humankind's avaricious cruelty, how could she dare chastise him when she was so certain that Lilia's bitterness only existed towards himself?

Her hypothesis had been proven correct when her most trusted General had been present for Malleus' hatching, a softness that she had only seen once before smoothing the harsh lines of his battle-weary gaze. Perhaps she had the right of bias; it was only correct that anyone melt at the sight of her darling son, chirping and mewling miniature fonts of emerald flame.

But that softness had reappeared tenfold when Lilia had knelt before her in the privacy of her chambers where no other fae save for two were ever allowed, revealing the swaddled contents of his cloak with a desperate, fervent need for approval.

He woke for me, she remembers her oldest friend confessing in a voice choked with awe and an emotion that had nearly frightened her (her!) with its intensity. Meleanor, do you understand what this means? He is the son of our enemy, lost and forgotten by time, and he woke for me.

Oh, she had understood as perfectly then as she does now. It was for that reason alone that she had stayed her hand from where it had been readied to smite the child from Lilia's arms, to strip it from existence out of fear that it had somehow bewitched the one fae with more reason to detest humanity than all the rest.

True love was so rare in this world; it had taken her centuries to find her heart's desire. How could she wrest that from Lilia, as he kneels before her and bares his soul, staring down at the sleeping infant cradled in his arms with a delicate strength she did not know him to possess and the dazed look of a parent struck with the dazzling knowledge that the child they hold is more perfect than any creature alive on the earth?

She could not— the proof of which rests in her arms and happily teethes on strands of her gleaming hair, warm and soft and heavy in the sweet way of babes.

"And that is why we cannot allow your pathetic wretch of a father to ruin the celebration of your first blessing, isn't that right— Silver?"

[strwbmei]

"You can't tell me that Silver Wolf doesn't have a size kink. She can quite literally alter reality and still chooses to be short as fuck."

Oh, for sure.

Being small has its advantages; sneaking around, deception, being bred and railed, those types of things :3

--Herta Anon

I just know she loves getting fucked while she's bent over, her legs dangling over the floor as a reminder of how much bigger you are; how you could easily overpower her, lift her off the ground, and fuck her to your heart's content. She's so used to being in a position of power; sometimes, she just needs someone to force her off of her high horse and put her back in her place.

And if you're significantly bigger than her? She'll love your hands, maybe way too much. Put them on her waist or hold hers, and she'll go crazy even if the two of you aren't doing anything sexual. Seeing the size difference really gets her going, but other than that, what she's really after is the marks that you could leave. Slap her ass, and your handprint will cover most of it the next morning. Choke her for long enough, and she'll have to switch from her usual outfit (grumbling about how you always go "too rough") to a turtleneck that doesn't quite match the rest of her wardrobe.

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Staying In

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~700

Summary: Rainy day activities

A/N: More fluff.

Warnings: None

Wanda looks up at you with an amused smile when she hears you grumble under your breath for the second time in barely a minute. 

“What is it, detka?” 

Wanda watches as your furrowed brows straighten as her question registers. You look away from your tablet and turn your attention to your wife with an apologetic smile. You hadn’t meant to distract her from her own reading.

It’s a dreary day outside which left you, Wanda, the dogs, and Fletcher to make do with indoor activities. The dogs mostly just sat around watching Fletcher have her zoomies while you and Wanda decided to have a lazy day. Since it was Sunday, you insisted on not leaving bed as you caught up on the book you were currently reading. To be honest, you were reading maybe 4 books at once, but you kept bouncing back and forth between them. You couldn’t read too much of one of them because it was a seriously slow-burn romance and one of the supporting characters was annoying as hell. The other involved a love triangle which usually you hated, but the author was doing a very good job keeping it from diving into the miserably cliché territory. 

That said, the book you’d decided to read today was about two teachers, well a teacher and an administrator, in a boarding school casually butting heads as they fell in love. 

It was fluff personified and it included a resident pet mascot so you loved it. 

You did not; however, like how shortsighted the main character was being right now. You thought you’d hidden it well, or at least hadn’t verbalized your pinched and exasperated expression, but Wanda’s voice makes you realize you’ve failed miserably. 

You sigh as you take note of your wife where she still lays with her head in your lap. She’s also reading on a tablet, but her book is a political thriller that you’d read last month. She was finally reading it so you could talk to her about it, but you were a little more distracting than either of you bargained for. 

“Sorry, Wands. These women are just…clueless sometimes.” 

You decide to settle on this instead of something decidedly less flattering, but from the look on Wanda’s face, you can tell that she knows that you’ve only scratched the surface of your frustration. She smiles as she sets her tablet aside and sits up slightly so she’s resting her head on her hand. She could honestly use a break from her book. The many conspiracy theories are giving her a headache. 

“How many pages are left in the book?” 

You smile as you check this before mentioning that you are almost 75% through the book. Plenty of time for the characters to get their act together…in the last act. Wanda laughs when you say this and she sits up a bit as you lean down to kiss her. You shoot her a curious look and ask how her book is going. She sighs before moving so she’s more comfortable. She’s lying down beside you and resting her head on your stomach before she answers. 

“Oh you know how it is. Nothing is as it seems, and people are getting overwhelmed. Including me.” 

You can’t help but laugh at this and you only feel a little bad when Wanda pouts at you before reaching out for you. You’re certain that she’s going to tickle you in retaliation, but instead she wraps an arm around your waist and lays her head down with a yawn. 

“That sounds tough.” 

Wanda shrugs and mumbles non-commitally before closing her eyes. She’s going to take a short break from her book, and maybe fall asleep while you finish yours. Once you’re finished it will be close to time to make dinner. She smiles when she feels your fingers begin to run through her hair, distracting her from her mild headache. 

“It is. I’m going to take a break. Wake me when it’s time to cook?” 

You nod before you return your attention to your tablet. It’s 5pm, you probably can finish this book in the next hour if you stop pausing to groan every 3 minutes. You continue to play with your wife’s hair as you settle back against your pillow with a smile. 

“Sure thing, Wands.”

Masterlist

[amywritesthings]

Love your fic love, it's the best one I've ever read. Could you do something from Levi pov when he started realising he liked Reader and he felt about that?

first of all, thank you for such lovely words! i'm so happy you like it. second of all, i can certainly write you a levi pov where he had his 'oh shit do i like her?' moment xo

all at once. / levi ackerman x f!reader

word count: 900 warnings: language, levi pov set in the silver underground universe

( read on ao3 here )

Furlan had a funny saying about the people he fell head over heels for.

It happens slowly, he once told Levi.

The two of them were sitting around their newly-bought two-bedroom apartment, comically vacant and egregiously filthy.

With his long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle, Furlan chose to sink his palms into the dust to tattoo his fingerprints. 

To say he was there.

(I was here. I am here.)

Levi chose a more civilized position — sitting backwards on one of the only two chairs they had in this place, his sleeved forearms folded over each other on its curved back. He peered down at his friend with the utmost curiosity, head hung under a curtain of black fringe.

“The hell’s this question coming from?” Levi grunted as he shifted his shoe on the floor.

Fucking disgusting; he wasn’t going to sleep tonight if the entire apartment ended up being this damn dirty. 

“What do you mean?” Furlan asked. "Which topic?"

“The topic of this,” Levi clarified, “and why you’re so interested in who I may be looking at on the streets."

"What, we can't gossip?"

The way Levi's brow quirked said otherwise. Furlan sighed.

"We're roommates now."

"So?"

"So?"

"I don’t think I asked who you're interested in, Church.”

“No, you didn’t,” Furlan hummed happily with a dopey smile on his face. “But now that we have this place with two whole bedrooms to ourselves, we have the luxury of inviting people over. Think about it: two young and handsome bachelors, ready to take on the—”

“Wait, invite people over?” Levi interrupted, brow rising. “This isn’t a community house. It's headquarters.”

“No, I know."

"Do you?"

"Yeah! But like I said, think about it: now that we’re taking names and carving our own legacies down here, I’m sure plenty of people will think we’re great. Maybe we'll even get some kinda group of admirers for our efforts.”

“Doubtful.”

“Aw, c’mon, Levi,” Furlan pouted. “Don’t you like anyone? There’s that one guy with the tattoos over on second street.”

“No.”

“Or the dark-haired girl who always seems to give you a discount on soups.”

“Not happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

Furlan blinked.

The black-haired boy felt his temper — and embarrassment — rising.

“Because I wouldn’t know what the fuck it feels like to like someone like… that.”

Levi grit the truth between his teeth, hating the honesty that came with this ridiculous conversation. 

The Underground City doesn't quite offer anything real. Down here love was transactional. There wasn't room for emotional error.

He saw what it did to his mother.

He saw how it molded whatever the fuck he’d call Kenny.

Bottom line was that feelings weren’t good.

And then there was Furlan, looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Well, when you realize there's something about someone, it's slow,” the ash-blonde boy suggested, nodding with encouragement. “From my understanding, liking a guy, girl, person, whatever — it happens slowly, then all at once.”

“How’s it slow?”

Furlan smiled, knocking his feet side to side against the wooden floorboards.

“Probably because the people you actually like are kinda in the background until they aren’t anymore.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Levi echoed. "You're supposed to be attracted to them first."

"That definitely helps, but that's like... lust or whatever," Furlan challenged. "I'm talking about liking someone. Wanting to hold hands or be with them so you can listen to them talk all the time and never get bored of what they're saying."

Levi scoffed, turning his chin sharply to the right as he considered.

Slow, then all at once.

Except it was never slow.

It would’ve been really fucking helpful if it had been.

You’d been ready to rip his throat open all those years ago.

No one had ever gotten the jump on him the way you had. No one would ever come close.

Maybe watching your fights after Kenny dropped him for reasons unsaid had been the slowest part about this. Watching your sweat-streaked face as you caught your breath in the midst of folding someone double your size like it was nothing. Listening to your voice in the alleyway when you spoke to that witch of a woman. Conjuring up an excuse to talk to you, to see if you even remembered—

It’d been all at once from the very beginning.

Someone as fleeting as a ghost had haunted his once dreamless sleep.

Hell, you still did.

“Sounds like you got someone in mind.”

His gray eyes darted back to Furlan, instantly on the defensive.

The other boy sported a goofy smirk. Levi scowled.

He could tell him.

He could ask if the way his throat closed up whenever he so much as considered uttering her name was a sign that he was head over heels.

That sometimes it wasn’t slow, but as fast as a blow to the damn head.

That sometimes liking a stranger felt more powerful than anything he'd ever known.

“Nah,” Levi lied, surging from his seat to stand at full height. “Only thing I’m interested in is cleaning this piece of shit up. I’m not sleeping on cobwebs tonight, so get up, grab a broom, and help.”

James.

Maybe one day he’d face it; liking someone.

Really, genuinely, devastatingly wanting someone.

But he couldn’t afford it.

(Maybe one day.)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your phone buzzes as your niece bounces dangerously close to the tree. Your sister's in town with her two kids, but neither her or her husband seem to care much about watching them. Somehow, you're tasked with that and unsure what to do about their endless energy. You envy them truly so you just kind of let them go.

You hear your mother and sister chattering in the kitchen, her husband is in the garage with your stepdad, and as always, you're the odd one out. You slide your phone out and check the ID. It's Bucky, technically your new boss. You notice you've missed a few texts from him. Great. Not a good start. You were supposed to tell everyone at dinner about your new gig.

You answer, watching the kids without much thought, play tug of war over a string of tinsel. You should stop them but it'll just snap anyhow. You clear your throat and put your hand to your cheek, feeling the nervousness warm your skin.

"Hello, Mr. B-Barnes," you eke out.

"Bucky, it's fine," he sounds slightly irritated but you don't think you've heard a different tone from him so far, "you're busy?"

"Well, uh, n-not exactly," you shrug, "j-just family s-stuff."

"Family... so you won't be able to go over the script? I just got your edits."

"U-uh, y-yeah, if you want to, I c-can grab my l-laptop," you offer and turn your back to the room.

"I'd prefer it if we could meet. I'm more of a face-to-face person."

"O-old-fashioned," you comment. You regret that he exhales deeply on the other end. "S-sorry, I o-only meant--"

"You're right. I'm old-fashioned. Not a bad thing," he insists, "so, is it too late? Should we find another time?"

"T-tomorrow?"

"I'm going out of town for the weekend," he huffs, "I really want to have this ready to record when I get back."

"R-right," you chew your thumb, a sudden bawling tears through the air as you spin around and find your nephew stuck under the tree. Oh no! "Oh, sh-shoot."

You cover the microphone as you lower the phone. Your sister rushes in, your mother at her heels as they squeal. You watch helpless as she fishes Casey from under the fir branches, "you were supposed to be watching them," she accuses.

"I-I was?"

"Oh, come on, you know, I barely get a minute to myself and you can't just keep an eye on two kids? Ugh, no job and you can't be bothered just to look," she snarls.

They're not your kids. You flutter your lashes as you fight back tears and that smart remark.

"I actually h-have a c-call from m-my new job," you hold out your phone and wiggle it at her, "I d-don't b-babysit f-for free."

She scoffs and your mom tuts as she shakes her head. They don't even care. No congratulations but they can constantly throw your unemployment in your face. You take a breath and roll your eyes.

"S-sorry, I g-got to go," you turn and drag your feet out of the room.

"Well, she didn't say she had a job," your mother mutters as your sister grumbles back, "about time."

You ignore them as you head upstairs. It's better you let your sister bask in her spotlight. You weren't looking forward to dinner anyhow. Not for anything more than the hunger groaning in your stomach. You put the phone back to your ear.

"A-are you there? S-sorry, I g-got distracted."

"Really, if you're busy--"

"N-no, I n-need to get a-away," you say.

You're silent at the confession. You didn't mean to sound so pathetic. You go down the hall to your room and find a sweater.

"Well, uh, how about we meet at the cafe? Middle ground. You like that place?"

"Up t-to you," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

"You need a ride?" He asks, to your surprise.

You pause as you grip the bright pink wool in your hand, "N-no, I'll f-find my way." You swallow and lay the sweater on your bed, "uh, b-bye."

You hang up before he can respond. You're embarrassed. He probably heard all of that and more. And now you've gone and betrayed your stupid self to him. Of all people. He doesn't need to know you're a complete failure. You hate to accept it but you have to; you need him more than he needs you. So maybe you'll just change the damn thesis after all.

🩶

You get to the coffee shop with snow caked on your hat and in the collar of your coat. You shake it off just outside and enter, your cheeks and nose kissed with the cold. As much as you love the winter, it's a bit much. You let out a brrr as you pull of your mitts and tuck them inside your hat. You hear your name and glance over. It's him, he's beat you there.

You tramp over to him as the snow melts off your boots and you wave, setting your bag in the chair as you unbutton your coat.

"Didn't m-mean t-to take too l-long," you say.

"Hot chocolate shouldn't be that cold," he assures you. You wince and look at the table. Sure enough, there's a second cup.

"O-oh, you d-didn't have t-to--"

"It's fine, not a big deal," he shakes his head.

You nod and hang your coat over the back of the chair and tuck away your mittens and hat in the sleeve. You sit and bring your bag into your lap. You flip up the flap and pull out your laptop, chilly from the walk there. You sense him watching you. You leave your computer shut as you lay it out and reach for the hot chocolate. You give it a taste and hum, thanking him.

"Sounds like a rough day," he comments.

"Y-yeah, b-but you d-don't have to w-worry about it," you assure him, glancing around evasively. When is he going to start being mean?

"You got kids?" He asks.

You have to hold in your laughter. "Sister's k-kids," you explain, "n-not for m-me."

"Ah," he accepts and reaches for his coffee, "right. Makes sense."

You keep your eyes down. You don't want to get too personal. Feels like he's just being polite, likely because he feels bad for you, not about his previous behavior.

"Don't got any either," he leans forward, his thick fingers hugging his cup, "so, your new draft was... great."

"R-really?" You lift your gaze meekly.

"Yeah, yeah, I just have a few notes," he sits back to bend down to the bag at his feet, "thanks for coming so last minute.”

You open your laptop, trying not to show any emotion. It's kind of him but you just don't believe it's anything other than pity.

[twst-drabbles]

Silver 6

Summary: Silver woke up from another one of his spells, his pets snuggled on his stomach. You leaned over him and give him a kiss.

(Fighting the mind fog as best as I can. Oh boy is it a messy battle.)

When Silver fell asleep, he was leaning against the wall and landed to the ground with a loud thud. These episodes have been happening so frequently that Silver has essentially moved into your home, just so he doesn’t potentially hit his head on a table corner or twist his neck the wrong way.

Either way, Silver fell and you were there to hear and rush in. He didn’t break any skin and he was far away enough from any furniture that he probably didn’t damage himself too much.

You laid him on the couch and felt through his head. You only found a raising bump but it was within expectation. He fell on the carpet, so there’s that at least.

“Alright,” you brushed Silver’s hair out of his face, pulling the pillow just enough to keep his neck comfy, “that should do it.”

Within an hour, Malleus, Lilia and Sebek has all gathered and migrated on top of Silver’s stomach. They wanted to be on his head and neck, but you shooed them down. It wasn’t long before they piled on top of each other and fell asleep.

You sat on the floor, cushion under you because the floor’s too cold. You don’t really want to leave him by himself. Yes, yes you already have a lot on your plate and you have many other pets that need your attention, but Silver came to your doorstep.

You know Silver. You know that it must’ve been an internal battle for him to admit that his condition was worsening to you. And to come all this way to you, you can only imagine the weight of his worries and fears.

So, when you can, you’ll sit there by his side, just so that you and his pets will be the first thing he sees.

Thirty minutes later, Silver woke up with a gentle sigh. He winced when his head brushed against the pillow.

“Careful there,” you turned to him, tapping his arm with the back of your hand, “you fell on the floor this time.”

“On the floor? I hope I didn’t leave a dent.” Silver made to get up, but laid back down as soon as he spotted his pets all wrapped around each other, “Oh. They’re sleeping. How long was I asleep?”

“Just under two hours this time,” you reached out and brushed the side of his face, brushing a thumb over his frown, “Less than yesterday.”

Silver leaned in and grasped your hand, moving it so he could kiss your palm. “But it still happened. While I was standing too.”

“But, it’s no longer twelve hours,” it’s slow progress, but it’s something. Long have the doctors suspected something magical influencing his condition, so a change in location was what’s best. And it seems to be working. “They’re lasting less and less, Silver.”

Silver hummed and nodded against your hand. “They are, but still. I’m afraid.”

Afraid of slipping into a coma. Of one day waking up to a world that has long passed him by, with everyone around him aged and in different phases of their lives. Of being left behind.

They’re all things Silver sobbed to you at night, when he was afraid to even intentionally sleep.

“I know,” you leaned in, guiding his head upwards and kissed his lips, “but I’ll be here, okay?”

Silver sighed, his eyes shimmering with relief, “Thank you.”

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Hello, I'm so sorry that you're having a mopey day today :(( But honestly I'm having one today too... I would love to read some fluffy fic, maybe some teenage!Rhys×reader where they are acting like stupid teenagers in love. Or maybe something with Az where reader is a shadowsinger too and they are fooling around and using their shadows to prank the IC. I don't know, these are just some ideas that popped randomly in my head so don't feel pressured to write anything. Anyway wish you best and I hope you will feel better soon 💗

Thanks, lovie! 💕Hope this is okay and cheers you up a little! I feel like I’m not very good at fluff but I did my best 🤣 thank you for sending it in! Enjoy 💕

Forget Me Not — (Rhysand x Reader)

"You'll be High Lord someday."

"I will."

Rhysand rested his chin on your leg, violet eyes peering up at you. In the balmy evening light, he looked resplendent, the sun offsetting the golden hue of his skin. You found your fingers absentmindedly tracing the shape of his lips, the brush of his lashes.

"Things will change when you're High Lord." You brushed his floppy hair from his eyes. "We will change. Our relationship."

At just nineteen, it was hard enough to navigate such a serious, intense relationship. You hadn't expected to fall so madly in love a year earlier, when your court — the Summer Court — had received the High Lord of the Night Court and his son as guests; a plan, you'd learned, to strengthen the relations between the Solar Courts and Seasonal Courts. The High Lord's son, Rhysand, had been nothing but charming and chivalrous. But you hadn't expected him to so much as notice you, as a mere a servant to the High Lord of Summer. When you'd served Rhysand a drink, and those violet eyes had met yours like they were staring into your soul, you knew immediately — you would never want anybody as fiercely as you wanted him.

Too bad that he was a future High Lord, and you a nobody.

It had been unexpected, to say the least, that he'd sought you out. Asked you to show him around the court whilst his father and your High Lord engaged in dull meetings. He'd made you laugh and seemed genuinely interested in knowing you. And when he'd returned to the Night Court, he'd promised to come back and see you again.

Which he had. And thus had begun a year of secret meetings and the thrilling adventure of falling in love. You knew Rhysand's father would never approve. You knew Rhys would one day be in a charge of his court, and not have the luxury of sneaking off to see you for a few hours, sometimes an entire night.

There was a time limit on your relationship, and that thought had begun to plague you more and more recently.

Rhys reached out, pressing your hand against his cheek. "Change doesn't always have to be bad."

"It will be the worst kind of change if we can't see each other anymore."

Rhys sighed softly, rolling onto his back. You knew he didn't want to spend your precious time together talking about such things; neither did you. You wished you could stay like this forever, sprawled out in the sweet-smelling meadow that had become your place to meet him. The thought of this place being empty of your love, your laughter, your conversation, made you teary.

"Please don't cry, my love." Rhys scooted closer. He tugged you until you were slotting between his legs, his front pressed to your back. "Why are you letting this bother you now?

Tears dropped onto your lap as you glanced down. "This past year is the happiest I've ever been."

A kiss was pressed to your shoulder. "Me, too."

"But you will be a High Lord. And of a court I don't even live in. You will be the most important member of your court, and I'm nothing but a servant. I feel like soon enough, you're just going to forget me. That you ever loved me."

You felt the way his body went rigid against you. After a pause, his warm arms slid around your waist, his face burying into the crook of your neck. He seemed to inhale your scent slowly. Desperately.

"Do you truly think I could ever forget you?" He murmured. "I remember the first second I caught a glimpse of you. You were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen. Still are."

You gave a watery laugh. "So beautiful in my old, ratty clothes."

"Your hair was in a loose braid, and when you leaned down to serve me my drink, a strand came free of the plait. I felt so compelled to reach out and tuck it behind your ear. And I thought your eyes could give this court's sunrise a run for its money. So bright and brilliant. Your cheeks were flushed, and you smiled at every single person, despite most of them straight up ignoring you. You were the most exquisite person in that room, and I couldn't look away from you."

You turned slightly in his arms, just enough to meet his gaze. "You noticed all of those things?"

A lopsided smile tugged at his lips. "Why do you think I tried so hard to get a message to you that I wanted to meet with you? I couldn't let you walk away. At least not without learning your name first. I certainly didn't think I'd ever be lucky enough to have you love me back."

You studied his remarkable face, noting every emotion, every thought, that he wore freely. For nobody other than you. You'd memorised that face as much as you possibly could so that when he wasn't around, you could close your eyes and picture him. His brilliant smile. The way his eyes roved happily over you. Sometimes, you could lay in bed and hear his laugh.

"Just...just promise me." You pressed your forehead against his. "Promise me that one day, when you're High Lord...even if you can't be with me anymore, you won't forget me. I couldn't bear you forgetting me."

Rhys's strong hand moved up to cup your jaw. There was no chance to read the look in his eyes before he was leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss started out gentle. Soft. The kind of tentative kisses you first shared in the early days of your relationship. Rhys's thumb brushed the line of your cheekbone, his mouth caressing yours.

But then his tongue was parting the seam of your lips and sliding into your mouth to intertwine with yours. Your mingling tastes had you sighing softly in satisfaction and angling yourself towards him further, one of your hands naturally reaching up to twine within the strands of his hair.

Somehow, you ended up in his lap, his lips working feverishly against yours in a hungry kiss. It was just the two of you in that meadow — the two of you and your love, that nobody — not even the High Lord of the Night Court — could take away from you. You would love him forever and always, no matter the distance, the social standing, the outside opinions.

Only when you were both panting for breath did Rhys tear his mouth from yours. You breathed heavily against each other's lips, your foreheads pressed together.

"Here." Rhys murmured deeply, quietly. "This is for you."

You pulled back just enough to glance down at the hand he held between you. You frowned down at the two tiny, blue flowers he pinched between his fingers. When he'd picked them, you weren't sure.

"A flower?" You were still battling to catch your breaths. "For me?"

"One for you and one for me." Rhys said. "They're Forget-Me-Nots. I'll spell them to forever stay fresh. And as long as we both have these, we know we'll never forget one another."

You blinked away tears as he tucked the flower into the strands of your hair, before leaning in to kiss you again.

"Always and forever, my heart." He whispered.

You nodded vigorously, cupping his cheek. "Always and forever."

[hanafubukki]

One day Malleus pops up at Ramshackle Dorm while you are doing laundry.

He sees you struggling to do it while Grim is little to no help, so he offers to help you.

You would think he’s excited from the slight skip in his steps and his fanged smile.

It turns out he is, he’s very excited.

He helps you wash the bedsheets by hand. All the while telling you how he did the same when Silver used to pee his bed, but was too ashamed to tell Lilia, so Malleus would take the sheets and wash them secretly.

Malleus helped you separate the clothes into multiple piles before expertly turning on the laundry machine. From the way he talked, you wondered if he read the entire manual.

You two hung the damp laundry on the lines outside, while Malleus spoke about little Silver and Sebek helping him back in the day.

The two carrying piles of cloths in their hands, some dragging on the ground. The littles ones competing on who can be the biggest help. The wide smile spoke of nostalgia.

As you two folded the laundry, he mentioned how at the end, they all would lay on warm sheets. The little ones falling asleep on him after a long day, with crumbs on their cheeks from the snacks they ate.

Lilia would come home after his trip, would pat each of them and remark how amazing they were.

Malleus spoke, how even he, was included in these affectionate gestures even though he was older than the young ones. You could tell though, he adores the affection he received back then, as he still does now.

As Malleus spoke, you couldn’t help but observe him fondly.

He wasn’t Malleus Draconia, the Future King of Briar Valley, but just himself.

He was simply, Malleus Draconia.

The Fae who loves his family.

A student of NRC.

The Housewarden of Diasomnia.

Your Tsunotarou.

Yours.

In this moment of time, everything was perfect.

[momowritings]

it’s just… the thought of Toji finally growing some gray hairs is getting to me …

Toji is not vain by any means, but growing older is scary. It’s a reminder that his time is limited. He finally turned his life around but now he feels like he’s running out of time. When he’s shaving and he finds those grey hairs he pauses for a moment, reflecting on his life choices, he’s kinda lost in the moment until you walk into the bathroom again.

“You missed a spot,” you point out, wrapping your arms on his waist.

“Oh yeah, yeah you’re right.” You frown at him, noting the far away look in his eyes. You lean back on the counter to face him and tug on his shirt.

“You okay baby?”

“I’m fine.” But it’s not fine. His voice is still too quiet. This wouldn’t do at all and you couldn’t just leave it as it was.

“Okay, what’s on your mind?” A few beats of silence pass by before he meets your gaze. He looked unsteady, which was something you’ve never seen from your husband before.

“Do you notice anything different about me?”

The question took you by surprise. Has you missed something? A new hair cut maybe? Your eyes flick over his body trying to spot the change. “Different? Different how?”

His ears flamed red. He turned away before you can inspect further. “Never mind. Forget about it.”

“Wait did I say something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t do anything. I’m just getting too old it seems,” he said with a dry chuckle. You frown again at the thought, hoping that he wasn’t doubting himself.

“Too old? Now why would you think that?”

He turned his head to show you his side burns that were slowly greying, and you run your hands through them.

“I think it looks nice. You’d make an attractive silver fox.”

“Isn’t it too early for that?”

“Maybe,” you hum. “But you have had a lot of stressful events over the years. It’s doesn’t look bad at all.” You gave him a reassuring smile but he still didn’t look convinced.

“I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about us.”

“That’s what you’re worried about? Toji, you do know I’m aging the same time you do, right? The days are moving through the both of us, making us move a little slower than the last time. It doesn’t mean anything bad though. Everybody has to go through it.”

“But you’re young now. You shouldn’t be tied down with me.”

“You can’t choose that for me,” you say firmly. “I like what we have so far. I want to be with you, and Megumi, and the dogs. I want to share more birthdays and holidays together. I want to show you my grey hairs when they finally show.”

Toji falls silent and you sigh. You wrap your arms around his waist, trying your hardest to dispel his worries through the touch, pouring as much love and confidence you could.

“I never thought the day would come that I would have to tell you not to care what other people think. You’ve done it so many times for me and for that I’m grateful. If anyone assumes anything other than love between us they are bitter and lonely. They can’t believe that two people can love each other with no other ulterior motives, because it is something that is hard to find. But we know the truth so I don’t pay them any mind, so neither should you, okay?”

Toji made a gruff sound that vibrates through your body. You wanted to look up at him but decided against it.

“Plus everybody knows that men get finer with age. I’ll have to carry a stick around to whack away touchy people.”

“I do that all the fucking time with men looking at you.”

“Great. Now we can be the super hot couple that’s mean to everybody but each other.” You look up at him and smile. You don’t comment on his watery eyeline but press a kiss into his cheek.

“Finish shaving, I’ll get Megumi ready.”

[serenescribe]

I’ve been infected with the fever of Lilia’s bats adopting Silver as their non-bat pup, and it’s adorable! I suppose this is just me asking to see Lilia seeing his bats chitter and nuzzle Silver as a child or as a teenager. Whichever you prefer~!

[✐] ficlet frenzy

“Silver? Siiilver?”

No response. Lilia sighs, hands resting on his hips. Now where could his son be at this time of the day?

He’d just returned home after a trip to the market, and had called out Silver’s name in hopes of hearing a sleepy response and the soft pattering of feet before his son emerged at the front door. But today, he heard nothing.

And so Lilia had glanced around the house, leaving the groceries in the kitchen in favour of checking every nook and cranny of their little cottage. At the very least, he can still sense Silver’s presence somewhere, even if he can’t find him. Perhaps he’s playing a game of hide and seek? It’s a distinct possibility, Lilia supposes.

He comes up empty-handed until he tries the one room he had saved for last, for no reason outside of the fact that he can’t think of any explanation why Silver would be in there. With a flick of his wrist, the door to Lilia’s bedroom creaks open, the doorknob turning with the help of magic, and…

“Ah,” Lilia says, as he looks into his room.

He understands now why Silver couldn’t reply. Because Silver had been preoccupied.

Dozens of his bats — those sneaky little rascals! — surround Silver, chittering and flapping their wings at Lilia as he steps into the room. Lilia scoffs, rolling his eyes as he approaches the bed his son lays on. “Don’t give me that attitude,” he lectures, even as the bats huddle closer to the slumbering human boy, pressing against his neck and shoulders, clinging to his clothes and hair. Lilia squints, peering closer. “Did you cover his ears?!”

One of his bats — the largest of the group, and the boldest one, who always makes a habit of clinging to Silver even when Lilia chases the others off — squeaks out a response. Lilia folds his arms, lips twisting into a pout. “I told you, you cannot hoard him for yourself!” Another protesting whine. “‘Why not?’” Lilia echoes. “Oh, for the love of— we’ve been over this already! You can have your quality time with Silver, but you cannot hoard him like this! How heavy do you think you all are, hm, crowding him like that?”

The bats do not seem to care. Bastards, Lilia sulks, tapping his foot against the ground as they nuzzle into Silver, continuing to strategically cover his ears with the thin membrane of their wings in order to stop him from waking at the sound of his father’s voice.

Of course his pesky familiars don’t give a damn. They know the real reason why Lilia keeps fending them off — a deep-rooted jealousy that feels pathetically childish to admit, hidden under the guise of whatever excuse Lilia can think of on the spot.

“You win this time,” Lilia grumbles, throwing his hands up in defeat. “But mark my words, if you make Silver miss dinnertime again, I swear—”

The bats chirp back their protests, and Lilia’s voice pitches.

“You have no RIGHT to criticise my culinary skills when you can’t even COOK!”

[paulii7]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Who would’ve thought you needed someone older?

From the experiences you had. It just didn’t feel the same as how you were with him. He was mature, calm, and cool as a cucumber.

With an appearance that showed his experience in life. Making him more attractive than any of the guys you dated around your age.

It was even the way he held you warmly in his embrace as tears were wiped. Making you think you needed some older. Just a little bit colder. Take the weight off of your shoulders.

He was the perfect description of that “someone older.”

[1930sdarlin]

Today is truly an epic day!

I had gotten my first Twst Nui (Malleus) during Christmas of 2023.

I didn't think about buying Lilia, Silver, and Sebek until recently and I found them for great prices on Mecari!

I was able to get Silver and Sebek as a bundle and they arrived today. Lilia arrived Tuesday (of the week I'm posting this).

And now the Dia-Fam is together. ♡♡♡♡

And they will safe guard me when I'm sleeping. 🐲🦇🗡🐊⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️