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Yandere Silver Headcanons

adhlbfypfqeyvf If you want to know why this is coming out of nowhere... I've been cooking (talking) with friends about this concept for over a month and now I'm going to dump it all onto you 🤡 This interpretation of Yan!Silver is in part based on Elbert Greetia from Ikevil 💀 so uh… be warned…

Regular Silver, staring at this monstrosity: 😨 TRIGGER WARNINGS: (slow burn) yandere themes, (unintended) emotional manipulation, gaslighting, spying/stalking, unhealthy possessiveness and obsession, mentions of blood, (Silver’s) delusions, minor character death

***PLEASE NOTE: writing yandere content is NOT the same as supporting or approving of these behaviors irl. This is also NOT what I believe Silver is canonically like; this is only meant to be a creative reimagining/"what if" scenario.***

Curiouser and Curiouser...

It all starts off like a fairy tale come true. But like Hansel and Gretel stumbling upon the witch’s candy house or a frog set into a simmering pot, the heat—the horror—isn’t fully cranked up in the very beginning. A dream doesn’t start like a nightmare, the nightmare comes later. And you, like the fool you are, were lured in by the promise of sweets and a prince.

The boy you've been crushing on for the last several weeks shyly approaches you and confesses. Handsome, earnest Silver takes your hands in his and gives you that lopsided smile you've been admiring from a distance. He swears himself to you as your loyal partner, vowing to protect you from the things that slither in the dark and prey on the unsuspecting. To keep you from hurt and sadness forever and ever.

You're giddy—positively over the moon and the stars—to finally (and proudly!) call yourself his. Every time you look at him, you swear it feels like a thousand butterflies are fluttering in your chest, or like you’re losing yourself in the aurora of his eyes.

You tell him his eyes are mystifying and unique, that they’re something you could stare at forever. He doesn’t seem to get it at first, but is pleased nevertheless and thanks you for the compliment.

It’s not until a few weeks later that the ramifications come. One day, out of the blue, Silver gifts you with a piece of jewelry (a ring, a necklace, an earring, etc; whatever your preference is!). Embedded in it is a clear gemstone that refracts the light in pastel pink, baby blue, and pale purple… exactly like his eyes.

He helps you secure it on for the first time and oh, how gentle his touch is as his fingers brush against your skin. Silver gives that small smile that melts your heart. “There. This way, you’ll always have ‘me’ watching over you,” he says, lightly tapping the aurora-colored jewel, “even if I am not right at your side.”

Sometimes you feel Silver’s own gaze lingering on you too. You know him to be an airhead or half asleep most of the time, so the thought never occurs to you that this spacey behavior is odd. But once or twice, when you’re stealing glances back at him, you notice a seriousness set in his eyes, a darkness creeping into the light. The same deadset look that scares off children and makes others mistake him for someone far more aggressive than he actually is, you think.

He lingers close when you walk to and class together, his protective instincts sending him into action to catch you if you so much as stumble, and remove errant leaves and petals that tumble onto your hair. “I have you,” he reassures you, oblivious to the electricity in his touch and how it makes you leap. “Don’t worry.”

Silver acts as though you’re as delicate as glass and as pure as freshly fallen snow. It’s not uncommon for him to praise your positive traits (while totally overlooking your flaws) or talk about how good of a person you are—and that also drives him to keep you that way. Untouched, untroubled. He’s so quick to steer you away from stressful situations or charging in to settle an issue himself, typically by talking down the aggressors. That’s thoughtful of him… right?

He has the habit of falling asleep on you when he gets to be comfortable. You usually don’t mind it, but sometimes he gets a little too clingy in his sleep. It’s hard to pry him off when he looks so peaceful and mutters your name under his breath while he has your body in a death grip.

Silver takes you on quiet nature strolls. You often drift off the beaten path and wander deep into the woods behind NRC, far, far away from the other students and staff. The sun sinks and sinister sounds come from the dark—you get nervous and leap into his arms, asking Silver if you should turn back now. He agrees every time, walking you back and wishing you sweet dreams. By the time you collapse into your bed from exhaustion, you don’t realize he has stolen you away for the entire day for himself.

It’s strange. You start to get the sense that you’re seeing Silver in your dreams just as much as you see him in the waking world. Rarely do you fully recall the details of your dreams, but there’s always that vague feeling of catching a flash of silver hair or feeling the heat of his eyes uncomfortably pressing into you when you wake up.

You tell him about this and joke that maybe he’s using his UM to haunt your dreams. “It’s impossible. You’re not Rook-senpai,” you laugh. He chuckles at the idea. But oh, how weird. Somehow the conversation tends to steer toward whatever you happened to recall of last night’s dreams. If Rook appeared in your dream, Silver coincidentally slips him into the discussion. Lightly probing questions like, “What is your opinion of Rook-senpai?” and, “Are you comfortable around him?”

Silver tells you about the stories his father has shared with him from his travels. Many are folklore from different regions in Twisted Wonderland, but more recently he has been fixated on fairy tales from the Shaftlands. “A couple finds true love and live happily ever after, nothing able to tear them apart…” he says dreamily. “It sounds just like us.”

Silver appears stoic on the outside, but you know that’s not the case. A few months into the relationship, you become acutely aware of his insecurities and his low self-worth. Not strong enough, not long-lived enough, not alert enough, not… enough. He will never be able to repay his debt to his father, Silver has confided in you many times.

“It’s okay. You’re here now, and you’re doing your best to keep the people you love safe.” You do your best to soothe him in those moments of weakness, for which he is thankful for. With shining eyes, auroras in the dark, he whispers, “You’re so kind to me.” Raptly, as if beholding a higher being. “What did I do to deserve someone like you…?” And there it is again, that seriousness, the light fleeing from him, as he vows to repay your kindness.

You’re acquainted with Silver’s animal companions and get along with them. Now you’re noticing them everywhere, not just around Silver. In fact, you see them without Silver. Birds in the trees, a rabbit hopping alongside you, the stag poking its head out from the bushes.

Then those animals reappear when you meet up with Silver later, looking all innocent, while Silver asks you about your day. If there’s a slight discrepancy (due to poor memory) or a detail you overlooked, he’ll gently correct you or clarify. “Blueberry muffin? As I recall, you had a cranberry muffin for a midmorning snack.”/“Ah, you forgot to mention you asked Ace if you could borrow a pencil for the exam.” You blink, surprised. How did he come upon all that information? How can he recite your day better than you can? It doesn’t hit you until much later that his animal friends have been serving as his eyes and ears.

He sincerely apologizes to you when you confront him about it. “Please tell them I don’t appreciate them snooping!” you cry out. Silver promises he’ll ask them to curb their curiosity—and while it’s true that you no longer see the animals following you, you can still feel their beady gazes around every bend and corner. Paranoia claws at your scalp, and you try to calm your doubts with one thought: No way would Silver be encouraging this. I must be imagining things.

You try to get your mind off of your worries by hanging out with your classmates. Sebek, ever boisterous and over-the-top, uplifts your mood. Pretty soon, you’re chatting away with him at the lunch table (even if he loudly refers to you as a HUMAN), paying no mind to the shadow that has fallen over it until a deadly quiet voice speaks up.

“Sebek.” It is so cold, so hollow, it startles both you and Sebek when you realize the speaker is Silver. “I don’t like it when you talk with them like that.” Sebek makes to say sorry to his fellow knight—or is it to challenge him? You never find out, for Silver has grabbed you by the wrist and is yanking you away from him.

He doesn’t let go until you’re in a secluded area of the courtyard. There’s a red mark left behind, and it causes tears to well up in him. Silver collapse like a house of cards. He’s extremely apologetic—he has hurt you, hasn’t he? He failed to protect you. How terrible. He shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have been so petty and jealous.

It breaks your heart to see Silver a mess, blaming himself so profusely for what happened. You do whatever you can to calm him, and eventually the conversation somehow turns to you accepting some fault. It’s not, though, the little nagging voice in your head protests. You silence it, prioritizing the emotionally vulnerable Silver. “I’m sorry, I should have considered your feelings and avoided giving Sebek the wrong message. I’ll avoid getting all buddy-buddy with him in the future, okay?”

And it happens again, again, again. One by one, your friends are cut off from you in a similar manner. It’s always something they do or say that concerns your boyfriend, something that impedes or disrupts that pristine, picturesque fairy tale he has laid out in his head.

Silver’s presence in your life becomes increasingly invasive, like unwanted briars creeping into a garden, thorns cutting off your access to air. He’s soon consuming every second of your day, whether physically beside you or planted in your worried thoughts like a demon disguised as a guardian angel. You can’t do anything anymore without feeling anxious and watched.

He starts to talk about… strange things. Tall towers, glass coffins, the bars of a bird cage. All manner of motifs pulled from fairy tales, items and places meant to keep a character shackled and stowed away from the world. “I feel bad for the person locked up in them,” you’d tell him. “Sometimes,” Silver murmurs mysteriously, “people will take drastic measures to protect the ones they love.” You cannot explain why, but those exchanges leave you feeling immensely uneasy.

You timidly share your experiences with people you think are safe. Silver’s dorm members, his friends, his family. The people who know him best, who can maybe talk some sense into him. To your dismay, your concerns fall upon deaf ears. You earn many blank looks and dismissive comments, all citing Silver’s good nature. (“He loves you very much. This is his way of demonstrating that, he’s just sort of clumsy with it. Give him another chance.”/“That doesn’t sound like him. Are you sure you’re remembering it correctly?”/“You’re overreacting.”)

It beats down your spirit, starts to make you question your own judgment. You second-guess your words and actions. Is your perception of reality right when everyone else is telling you that you’re wrong, that Silver could never harm a fly.

Then comes the guilt like a wave crashing into you as you think about all the good times you’ve had together. Rose-colored days under a balmy blue sky. Your thoughts are like a brewing storm, and every evening when you tuck into bed, dread, unease, and uncertainty follow you.

You’re waking from the lovely dream that was a whirlwind romance, seeing Silver for the imperfect and obsessive person that he is. Unfortunately, you don’t have the heart to bring up the tough subject with him. He looks so darn happy with you, continues to dote on you and act the part of a valiant knight. Your mouth will open, then close again before any words can come out. It hurts, it hurts, and it is eating you up from the inside out.

You bottle it up for Seven knows how long, but it comes torrenting out one night. Silver is walking you home as per usual when you blurt out the suggestion of taking a break from each other. He stills, hurt crumpling his face. And then he has you by the shoulders, softly demanding to know what is wrong, has someone made you feel unwell? You, it’s you, you’re suffocating me, you want to say, but you cannot.

Silver presses and you resist, the two of you taking up the middle of main street with your desperate quarrel. He’s becoming increasingly frantic and desperate, his eyes dark and obsessive. It’s then that a passing mob student angrily speaks up, giving you a rough shove. You meet the hard ground, pain shooting through you. “Move already!” he gruffly stomps by—but he’s caught by Silver, his expression like clouds that have drowned out the moon. “You put your hands on them just now,” he says evenly. “Please apologize.”

“Like hell I will! They shouldn’t have been in my way,” the mob student grumbles. He attempts to leave but to no avail. There’s Silver walling off his escape route, an icy fury overtaking him.

You can’t bring yourself to watch what happens next. Wrenching your face away, you do your best to block out the horrible noises that come. The crunching of bones, the dull thud of flesh against something solid, agonized screaming. And then it’s silent.

You slowly gather the courage to dare a look at the scene. The world tilts, and bile rises in your throat. Silver calmly stands over a fallen figure. The street—and him—are painted in red. The mob student isn’t moving. Not anymore.

He smiles. The small, awkward one that once made your head buzz and cheeks flame. It only yields a gaping hole in your heart now. Silver strolls toward you, caked in blood but acting as though he isn’t.

You’re too paralyzed with fear to attempt backing away or rejecting his advances when Silver tenderly embraces you. You tremble violently, hiccups and tears spilling out.

A hand strokes your hair, his voice a lullaby to soothe you. “Shhh, shhh, shhh, it’s okay. You’re safe. I took care of the big, scary monster. You don’t need to look at it—it’s not fit for your eyes.”

Silver holds you and allows you to sob until you’ve tired yourself out and into a dream. He will carry you home, setting you down on your mattress like laying a corpse in its glass coffin and taking in the sight of you from the foot of the bed.

Not realizing that he, the knight, is the monster that keeps his beloved in a gilded cage. His arms and body, the bars that lock you in. Irony is a cruel mistress, and twisted is the love that it propagates.

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