Discover Top Posts Tagged with #twst diasomnia

Hello! I stumbled onto your blog via your Accidental Fae courting with Sebek and was wondering if you would be amenable to doing the rest of Diasomnia eg. Malleus, Lilia, and Silver? If not, I totally understand! It is just such an amazing piece. Really, thank you for it and the amazing laughter and fuzzies it gave me.

Accidental Courting 2.0

Lilia / Malleus / Silver x GN! reader

[masterlist] || sebek ver.

a/n 🍨 : Hello! Thank you so much for your kind words and for requesting this — it truly means a lot💛 I apologize for taking a bit of time before accepting it (especially the fact that this request is before i closed my request thus why it's been months) I tend to take a while with requests (mostly because of irl responsibility and wanting to write other stuff, but I always appreciate every idea and prompt shared with me💛 Nonetheless, thank you for reading my humble messy writing and I hope this version brings you the same laughter and fuzzies that Sebek’s piece did! remember to eat warm happy meal 🍲🩷

Lilia Vanrouge : Moonlight Applications

You found him lying on the grass, arms folded behind his head, the moon spilling over him like poured milk. He looked unreal like that — a painting half-forgotten by the gods, left to bask in the quiet ache of starlight. Fireflies hovered around him like they knew a secret you didn’t. You should’ve kept walking. Instead, you said, “Your hair’s a mess. I’m braiding it.”

He turned his head toward you, grin lazy and knowing, crimson eyes glittering with trouble. “My, my. Touching a fae’s hair under moonlight? How daring of you.” Lilia's voice was velvet over blade, amused and devastating.

You — stupidly, bravely, fatally — said, “Yeah, sure. You’ve got, like, cosmic split ends.”

“Do you know, in my homeland, such tenderness is a declaration?”

“Of what?”

“Of intent. Of longing. Of—ah, motherhood, perhaps? I do have three children, you know. Is this your application?”

Slowly you knelt beside him anyway, fingers finding strands of soft black silk that shouldn’t have been allowed to exist. “You talk too much...” you muttered, pretending not to tremble. The moonlight clung to his hair and your hands like it was conspiring with him.

Lilia hummed, low and thoughtful, the sound vibrating against the grass. “Well~,” he began, tone lilting and casual, “I already have three children. Wonderful boys, really. A bit dramatic, a bit loud, a bit sleepy—but endlessly dear.”

His grin deepened, dangerous in its warmth. “Hmm. I think you’d be a good parent for them. They’re all grown now, of course, but a parent figure is good for any age, isn’t it?”

“WHAT— LILIA— I WAS JUST— YOUR HAIR—”

He laughed, full-bodied and delighted, the kind of laugh that made the moon lean closer. When you stumbled away, pink-faced and sputtering, he only smiled up at the stars, ribbon glinting faintly where you’d tied it. Later that night, it appeared on your pillow again, humming softly with leftover laughter — like the world itself was in on his joke.

Malleus Draconia : Confectionery Catastrophe

It began, most disastrously, with a cookie. You offered it without ceremony — a little crescent of mortal sweetness, butter, and sugar fused in a gesture so harmless it might as well have been air. But when Malleus took it, he held it like one might cradle a newborn star.

The courtyard stilled. The air shimmered faintly around him, as if the world itself had leaned in to eavesdrop. “You… offer me a gift wrought by your hands, beneath the constellations’ gaze?” His voice rumbled low, reverent, confused.

You shrugged, halfway through chewing your own cookie. “Yeah? I baked too many. Take it before I eat twenty.”

Silence. A dreadful, blooming silence. His pupils dilated, those eerie dragon-green eyes catching the moonlight like stained-glass about to confess. “In fae custom,” he murmured, “such gestures are reserved for one’s—”

“Don’t say it,” you interrupted, suddenly aware of the way his tail flicked, “—intended.”

Malleus looked halfway between smitten and having an existential crisis. His ears twitched, a faint pink climbing the sharp line of his cheekbones. “Then… I must answer this courtship with a token of my own.” he whispered, and before you could say please don’t perform any fae rituals in my yard, he vanished in a hush of green fire and terrible inevitability.

Come dawn, an obsidian pendant rested on your desk — still warm, humming faintly like a heart that wasn’t yours. Sebek shrieked. Lilia had to sit down from laughing. And across the hall, Malleus Draconia watched you with the expression of a man who just got engaged accidentally and was too enchanted, too polite, and too terminally in love to correct it.

Silver : My Logic

He was sitting under the moon again, the grass whispering soft secrets around him. A tiny bird perched delicately on his finger, chirping as if gossiping about the stars. Silver smiled at it — slow, quiet, all warmth, and patience — and whispered something back in a language the air seemed to understand.

That’s when you appeared, carrying a small blanket. “You’ll catch a cold...” you said, draping it over his shoulders before he could protest. Your fingers brushed the back of his neck — fleeting, human, harmless. Or so you thought.

But Silver froze. The bird tilted its head. Somewhere in the echoing hallways of his mind, Lilia’s voice purred fondly: Ah, to cover a fae with your cloak or cloth — that’s an old gesture of devotion, you know. Quite romantic.

Silver blinked trying to process the current situation. Romantic? He thought. His pulse stuttered. His father's voice, smug and certain, continued: A sign that you claim them. That you’d shelter them always. A promise made in fabric and moonlight.

He looked at you, standing there, smiling like this was nothing — like you hadn’t just rewritten the laws of his world with one gentle touch. “You… wish to protect me?” he asked, too earnestly.

You blinked, startled. “I— what? No, I just didn’t want you to sneeze!”

But it was too late. His heart, poor obedient thing, had already drawn its sword and sworn allegiance. He held the edge of the blanket with almost reverent fingers, the way a knight might hold an oath. “Then I’ll protect you in return...” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

Later, you found him stationed outside Ramshackle’s gate at dawn, eyes bright despite the hour. “Silver,” you question him in confusion of his actions, “why are you here?”

He smiled faintly, moonlight still clinging to his hair. “You’ve given your word, haven’t you? Father always said a vow made beneath the moon must be honoured.”

You wanted to correct him, to scream — but he looked so calm, so heartbreakingly certain, that all you could do was sigh and let him stay. Somewhere far off, Lilia laughed into the night, the sound of a man far too proud of his matchmaking instincts.

#twst diasomnia

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#twst diasomnia