ancientseeker

Latest Posts by ancientseeker

guys. guysgyys

THE WAY HE LOOKS AT MC IM GONNA JUMP PH MY GOD

IT'S SO SOFT HE'S SO IN LOVE I CANT TAKE IT

I love the whole tension thing they have going on but my heart aches for lover boy Sylus he's so in love please let him love MC

OH AND

HIS SMIRK HERE?!?! HE'S SO HOT BUT SO DAMN CUTE AT THE SAME TIME WHAT IS HE DOING

“Happy Mother’s Day.”

You pause your scrolling, brows pinching together as you glance up at Sylus with both amusement and confusion.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

You had no children (yet) and you were almost positive you’d know if you were pregnant well before Sylus did. Still, Sylus seemed amused by your confusion. “No, not unless there is something you aren’t telling me.” He winked as he sat beside you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“So why are you wishing me — a woman with no children — a happy Mother’s Day?” You lean into him, laughing softly as he kisses the top of your head.

“Well, Luke and Kieran seem to think of you as a motherly figure from time to time… and you’re also very caring and sweet in nature.” He hums thoughtfully, twirling the ends of your hair. “You take care of me quite often.”

“So you’re saying I’m motherly?”

“…pretty much. I think it sums you up very well.” You sneak a glance at him, cheeks warming when you realize he’s been looking at you the entire time. “Is that even enough of a qualification to celebrate this holiday?”

“In my book it is.” You feel warm at that, a sheepish smiling tugging at your lips as you shake your head.

“You’re silly. I don’t think I’m all that gentle… not enough to be considered motherly…” your voice strains a little, as if you had just unleashed an insecurity you didn’t fully realize was lingering in the depths of your mind.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, kitten.”

Sylus didn’t flinch at the look of disbelief on your face, rather, he smiled instead. “You’ve always fussed over me, even though you know I can heal my own wounds.”

“The first few days of knowing you, you forced me to shoot you in the chest.” But Sylus shook his head. “That may be true, but don’t you recall what you did immediately after?” Of course you did, you panicking, scolding him like you’d known him for years and tried to stop the bleeding.

“The look on your face tells me you do.”

“What does that have to do with this conversation?” You still couldn’t understand where he was taking this. “You couldn’t stand me the first time you met me, you were scared and disgusted. Despite that, you still tried to save my life. That’s very telling of your character.”

“You bandage me up despite my ability to heal, you fuss over me all the time. You worry about the twins too, and ensure that they get their fair share. You may have callouses on your finger tips, but your hands are nothing but gentle and kind. Full of love and care.”

You’re not sure why, but you feel your eyes begin to brim with tears. “You’re strong, incredibly so. And yet you’re so soft, so sweet, so empathetic. The kind of soul that just wills you to open up even if you’ve never done so before. People feel safe when you’re around, me included. And not just because you’re one of Linkon’s best hunters.”

Sylus doesn’t stop, not even as you brush the tears from your eyes before they can slip down your cheeks.

“So, yes. You’re motherly, you’re a natural caregiver. And I know that one day when we finally have children of our own, our babies are going to be so incredibly blessed to be able to call you their mama.”

Your heart aches, a sniffle rumbling your chest as you lightly smack his arm. “You’re a sentimental jerk.” Sylus only pulls you closer, laughing softly as he kisses your head. “I love you so much, even though you made me cry.” The laughter grows a little louder, the hug a little tighter.

“I love you more than words can convey, and I meant every word I just said so don’t you dare doubt me.”

welded by water

— you take the time to explore the base he offers you as your home, wandering through countless doors. but your favorite will always be the one that leads to him.

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: OR SYLUS SWIMMING IN A POOL 😩 sylus’s birthday is in 3 days & i’m unwell ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ he’s gonna be celebrated for the first time and my heart bleeds i love him sm. anyway! this idea was born out of that one ingredient story where he pulls u in the pool I SCREAMED its so romantic & thinking abt sylus in a private pool changed my life 😵‍💫 i hope you enjoy!! ❀-urs

sylus x reader | fluff, romantic tension, smoochie kisses, sylus in a swimming pool hehehe

tw: suggestive touches, very brief description of drowning

You knew the base was big. You barely found your way around to the training room, feeling as if the halls shift and shuffle like an enchanted maze. Usually, Sylus would show you around— lead you by the elbow pushing forward, clasp your hands together to pull you to a secret garden, hike you up his hips and carry you to his bedroom. 

But today you decided exploring would be a good thing. Equipped with Mephisto on your shoulder (a ceasefire between you two today), you walk down the dim crossroads and forks of the building with confidence. 

You’d asked permission before, to walk around and open doors. Sylus merely hummed, lips pressed to your shoulder, saying, “Everything I own is yours.”

You didn’t take that lightly. You refused— tried to— but you knew he was certain. Every word uttered from his lips weighs like a stone in water. You knew, in your heart, he would claim the world and say that all he has conquered is yours to take and use according to your will. 

So here you are, assuming responsibility. Knowing the kingdom where you lay claim. With your phone on the notes app open, you tap tap tap away at directions and take stock of the rooms there are in his— your home.

It’s fun to discover to an extent. Although, when all Mephisto can give you is a head nuzzle and a squawk, you quickly lose interest by the fourth armory. Light fingers trace a line down from the bird’s head to his beak, “Where’s Sylus?” 

Mephisto shakes, his metallic feathers fluttering like real ones except they sound like windchimes— extremely thin iron tendrils clinking against each other like rain. One of your many favorite things about him.

The bird takes off to fulfill your request. This time, he waits for you to keep up. He leads you past an artificial greenhouse, another showcase room displaying his many gem collections, the boxing gym and then…

Mephisto perches himself on the top of the doorway of two double doors. If you’re correct, you should be west of the house. Maybe a wall of the whole structure. Beyond the threshold could be taller windows and maybe the sky. Maybe a telescope. With all the things you’ve seen, an observatory wouldn’t be surprising.

“Bet you three nut-bolts it’s an observatory.” you say and lean your weight into your shoulder against the door. “Though, I never thought him to be interested in astrono…” 

The words fizzle and die on your lips as you’re kissed by a faint blast of moisture and the sound of splashing echoing loud through the hall. Your gaze is drawn upwards at the high ceiling reverberating the sound, and then across the molded crowns of the walls. You follow the pattern, bewildered gaze racing down the curves of the large french windows. The stars— no, the galaxies, splattered like paint onto glass. The moon shines through the glass, and reflects unto the rippling water of the swimming pool. 

The pool where Sylus swam with refined grace. Running through laps with no signs of tiring. Breaking the surface of the water for breath, and then going back under to pop up again on the other end.

You’re too engrossed by the look of it all— how a room with a pool can rival the size of a library, can also feel like an observatory. You file your initial guess as a win at that.

Carefully, you step inside. Almost as if afraid to disrupt the sanctity of it all. But you push forward, into the candle-like glow of the lamps around the pool.

You make your way to the edge, sit cross legged and watch him swim. Up and down. Fast, faster. Silently and then with more force. A faint beeping signals his stop, and he emerges from the water like a god that commands the seas. The moonlight shines on his hair and transforms it into liquid silver melting over his eyes. 

Warm and cool reflect of the wet planes of his body, creating an ethereal illusion glimmering an otherworldly glow. 

And his eyes, so dark and yet brighter than a dying sun, find you. Hold you captive in their focus. Your stomach caves and your chest burns at his perception. 

The little jolt he gets in his chest whenever he finds you staring at him like that never fails to fluster him. What a gift to see you in general, but he cannot deny that he loves when you seek him out. When you emerge from your world and join him in his. When he finds you sitting there, staring, waiting for him. 

He swims from the other edge of the pool towards you. A swan through the water with practiced grace. And when he reaches your dry little island, he pulls himself up by his forearms to greet you. “Done exploring, sweetie?” 

You swallow. Happy he is here, but you often tend to forget how he looks beneath all his designer refinery and comfy, steal-able clothes. Strangled, an “mhm” manages to wriggle its way out your throat. 

“Cat got your tongue?” he smirks, catching the way your pupils scramble down so quickly and clumsily over his body. Beneath his cool exterior, his heart spasms with endearment. “Kitten?” 

And he’s back— love of your life, most annoying man on the planet. Stupid, cocky look dripping along with the droplets of his face as he challenges you. You dig through your pocket and find a coin. 

Swift and easy, you toss it into the pool. It plops and leaves ripples right by his hip. A beat, and then he tilts his head at you in confusion. “Made a wish?” 

“Enriching this pool.” you explain. “It lacks gold, and I’ve always seen you as someone who should be swimming in it.” 

“Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t take it then.” you huff.

He chuckles, turning your upturned nose back towards him with wet fingers, making you scowl. He grins wider, “No, no. it’s just… not enough.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh. I’m sorry, would you like me to throw in a hundred in there?” 

He snorts. “Sweetheart, you can do better than that.”

“Your black card drowns then.”

He laughs, whole and soulful. And it echoes through the hall as this beautiful symphony. “None of that is enough to enrich the pool.” 

“Calling yourself broke isn’t as humbling as you think.”

“Darling.”

“What?”

“Hold your nose.” splash! In a single movement, he’s grasped your hand and pulled you into the water. Your arms flail, but his touch never leaves you as he hauls his soaked little dragon li up to the surface.

“Sylus!” you screech, finding his shoulders and pulling yourself flush against him for leverage. You didn’t expect it to be that deep. His arms wrap around you tightly as he chuckles. 

Truly, how delightful is your misery.

“Now it’s enriched.” he says slowly. Glancing down at your downturned lips and your angry brow. A request you recognize and melts you right away.

Your distance makes it easier to curl your fingers on the nape of his neck and tug his lips to yours in a slow, languid kiss. 

You breathe, “How’d you know my wish?”

He grins, pressing one, two, three kisses to your lips in rapid successions. He has no answer, but he lets you know that he wished for it too. 

You’re pulled further into the pool, his movements smooth and unhurried as he kisses you again. A man starved. The first drop of water in the desert. 

You cling tighter, worried when your feet can’t find the ground. But he guides your thigh up and taps the back of your knee so you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Sweetie.” he murmurs, motions taking pause. He delights in the way you push more, chasing his halted kisses with your soft lips. “Mm, beloved.”

“Yes?” you almost whine, irked by the interruption. Every fiber of his soul frays and blows into the wind at the sound anyway.

“Look.” he says, only because he knows you’ll love it. Gentle fingers wrap around your chin, turning your head towards the length of the pool. With your stillness, the water follows suit, and reveals an endless mirror for the endless sky. 

“Oh,” your lips part, your eyes widen, and you get the urge to cling onto Sylus’s strong shoulders a little more. You press your cheek to his to marvel at the beauty he beholds you.

The flecks of lights dance on the warbling glass you swim in, the lunar touch transmutes the water into silk. The sky is on your body and both are doused in starlight. 

“Beautiful.” you breathe, touching the silver surface carefully, watching the tiniest waves disturb the image. 

“Yes.” he says, but his fingers find your cheek. And his eyes have never left your face, waiting and watching for this reaction exactly. Delighting in the cosmos as well— on your skin, in your eyes. He thinks: Gorgeous. Ethereal. Divine.

All mine. 

You turn to see his drunken gaze at you and smile at the implication of his words. Noses brush and kisses resume. 

“I think this is my favorite room.” you say, but your head is filled with him who holds you in his space.  

His amusement takes form in a laugh, low and suave. “Yeah?” 

You hum. Brush his hair back— bundles of moonlight slipping through your fingers— plant your palms on his chest, and lean your forehead on his. 

His warm hands travel up your back, pushing you impossibly closer to his warmth. Until you’re welded by the sparks of light in the sky. Until you meld together in a warm loving tangle of limbs and breath. He says, “It’s all yours.”

But amongst all the wealth, the treasures and the rooms he chooses to share with you, he is the only one you truly desire. Him, and your soul asks nothing more. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

thank you for reading!

THIS IS GORGEOUS

two birds on a wire

— on tangled trust and guilt, two little birds—and the ones who raised them—hold fast and balance their way home.

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: OR the babies come to papa on a work trip they were NOT invited to 🥺 this. this is the longest, heaviest thing i've ever written for these wonderful characters and im scared and proud and everything in between. i hope this exploration is something worth reading. i'll post an entirely separate a/n should you be interested in my thoughts on this here! hehe. but anyway, i hope you enjoy! ❀-urs

important heads up for context of this story: kyros and lucian are (my headcanon) sylus's twin boys. around 3-4 years in this one! ᡣ𐭩

sylus & his family | sylus x reader | angst, hurt, comfort, boydad&husband!sylus, mom!reader, bigbrother!luke&kieran, sylus cant afford to lose his family tw: children in danger, violence/blood, self-blame/guilt, trauma, tragic tones

“That’s too long.”

Sylus chuckles at your tone over the line. He settles in his seat, feeling the discomfort in his back that begins to make itself known. “Sweetie, we’ve been apart for longer than that.” 

“Yes, and each day was agony.” he grins at the sound of your whining. Immediately matching the tone and twang to Lucian’s huffy-puffy behavior.

“I’ll try to get back in three.”

“Two.” you push.

He laughs now, full bodied and rich like wine. “Beloved.”

“Tonight.” you demand. You don’t notice it, but he does: that firm voice you do since the twins have become more rambunctious. Lower in register and more commanding in tone. It goes so unnoticed by you that it’s a treat when you slip and use it on him.

He wants to devour you every time. 

“Tomorrow.” he promises, relenting. Never truly one to deny you anything. He’d fold the world in half to cut down travel time should you ask. 

You smile, he doesn’t need to see you to know, giddy with the flutters in your stomach that never fail to surprise you no matter how long it’s been. “Y’know, if you really wanted to shave down time, we could have done this trade together.” 

And, oh, Sylus would love that. As much as he adored being bound to you, married in every way imaginable, nothing will ever compare to working with you. Of watching a hurricane in the form of his partner leveling the field of wanderers and enemies alike. To resonate and feel the energy surge through his greedy veins as you both unleash a power more fearsome than any abyss. 

And then you sigh, playful, knowing you’d just riled him up. “But Kyros says he wants to watch Bubble Pals.”  

He grits his teeth, jaw tightening. “I should have brought that whole program and scheduled the concert myself.” 

“You know he’d hate that, the whole point is to enjoy the Bubble Pals with pals, not just him.”

“We can be his pals. Kieran and Luke haven’t exactly outgrown cartoons. They watch those action packed animations—“ 

“—anime?—“

“And does Kyros forget he was born with a pal?” Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Lucian is a biological bubble pal.” 

His words begin to crunch in a way that tells you he’s getting a little too worked up about being apart— but you also know him well enough that he’d be missing bubble pals with his sons too. Although endearing, you didn’t want him getting too distracted from his mission. 

“My love,” your tone is honey, placating and calm. “Lucian is not made of bubbles.”

He scoffs. “You’d think he was with all the floating he’s been asking for.” 

Oh, Lucian and his favorite hobby: scaring the life out of his father. Recently, he’d been climbing up high places within Sylus’s proximity and jumping without so much as a warning. Relying solely on his father's instinct to know he is there, and catch him with his evol. “But papa whizzies are so fun!” 

“Don’t patronize me,” he groans, recalling the fear that crumples his chest during Lucian’s split-second free falls. “We need to put a bell on him. He can’t keep jumping off the stairs and expecting me to catch him.” 

“You always do though.”

His heart trips over your faith.

“It doesn’t help that their mother is a cat.” he jabs lightly. “And so they move as such.” 

“Hey, the irresistible charms come from me. Mischief is all from you.” 

“Really now?”

“And the big twins.” you add. “Who, let’s remember, you also raised.” 

He chuckles. Coming from you— the only thing capable of raising his blood pressure up to ungodly heights—it was all highly unlikely. “And I suppose their tendency to send me into a coma comes from…?” 

“That’s debatable.” you say, and he hears the smile he loves so in your voice once more. The crackle of gravel beneath the wheels of your vehicle signal your arrival to home. “I’m pulling up to the house. How’s your flight so far?”

“It’s well.” he says, tone somber as he recognizes the transitioning goodbye. “We can… talk some more. Or, maybe I can say hello to the boys?”

Your heart swells. The day you realized that Sylus was just as needy for you as you were for him was a paradigm shift in your relationship. Suddenly, it was easier to ask and receive on both sides. And you’d promised then to practice just wanting. Requesting, knowing full well your partner is more than willing to deliver. 

“The boys are with the big twins, said they wanted to ride Luke’s Cheeto car.” you inform him sadly. You love eavesdropping on their little conversations when he spoke to the kids over the phone. Unfortunately, amazing, fantastic mama and transformer car papa (Sylus’s voice on the loudspeaker) is no match for Luke’s neon orange sports car. 

“I see,” he says. “And you?”

“I have to finish some paperwork.” you sigh, picturing the dreary and drab documents you’ll be staring at for the majority of the day.

The car door shuts with a muffled thud and your boots on the ground paint him a picture of where you are, coming up to the front door. He listens as you speak into the voice register, scan your retina on the bio-lock, and then finally shut the door behind you. The simple act of arriving home and the thought of you being safe inside helps the tension on his shoulders. 

“Okay,” he simply says, understanding. “Call me when you’re done.” 

“But what if you’re at the exchange by then?” 

“I don’t care.” He says, leaving no room for argument “Nothing is more important to me than hearing your voice.”

You blush, and he knows you’re blushing. He continues and the grin in his voice is annoyingly dear, “Thank you for seeing me off to the airport.” 

“Come back in one piece.” 

“I promise.” A warbled captain's announcement sizzles overhead, but he doesn’t hang up. Instead, he lets the silence that follows be language enough. 

I love you. I’ll come home to you soon.

You hum, and then the line goes dead. Might as well get work done with a quiet house until your twins get home— both sets, who no doubt will inevitably pull you away from your responsibilities as a hunter… 

It would be great if they got here sooner.

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Sylus sighs the weight of his chest away when the call ends. The sooner he finishes this mission, the sooner will this longing cease. And before you, Sylus had never known hardship like leaving home. 

It was especially difficult when Kyros had clung to him the day before, as if knowing he’d be gone again. And his scent of baby powder and clean linen is still on the lapels of his jacket, since he sobbed and held his father tight as if doing so would keep the world from turning. Would keep his papa home.

Sylus groans, rubbing his eyes. His career had never been the safest or the easiest, but the security and power it allows him— to be able to give you the world and protect you all from it— makes it all worth it. All he asks is to return at the end of the day, back to you, back to his boys, back home. 

He’ll finish this mission quickly. He’ll end anyone that gets in the way of his expected ETA. He’ll be damned if he misses Bubble Pals. 

The seatbelt sign flickers on overhead, and he raises a brow. He follows anyway, awaiting turbulence or a steeper decrease in the clouds, but none come. 

“What’s going on?” gone is his soft and playful tone he reserves only for you. His voice now comes through the intercom of the cockpit like a harsh assault of hail. Enough for the pilot and co-pilot to stiffen and straighten their postures just at the sound. 

“Low visibility, sir.” 

There is no reply and they sigh a breath of relief. And yet they sense it, something in the clouds lurking, just out of sight. Watching, waiting for them.

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Sylus feels it like he does every other time and the fear spears his heart. A shuffling, a grunt and then— 

He nearly misses— with an inch between the carpet and his nose, the little boy floats by the crumpled points of his clothes where Sylus’s evol has haphazardly tangled and pinched itself around like a careless net.

“Lucian?!” Sylus hisses, drawing his son closer with his power. Thoughts running a million miles a minute, bewildered that he is here.

Here and giggling. “Papa whizzy!” 

“What are you doing here?” he can’t help the harsh growl in his throat as he undoes the seatbelt and grabs his son from the air. 

“Wan’ta fly with you.” Lucian says, like it was obvious, not yet sensing the trouble he was in. Just happy to have finally found Sylus in this big plane.

But Sylus is frantic, now looking around and underneath the seats, knowing that one does not come without the other. “Where’s your brother?” 

“Kee-ro losin’!” Lucian cheers, wrapping his arms around Sylus’s bicep. “I found papa first.” 

“Lucian.” Sylus groans through gritted teeth. And then the plane bounces, a small wobble of turbulence hitting from below. Sylus tilts forward as he loses his footing, but catches himself with an hand on a headrest. 

Thankfully, it draws the other one from wherever he’s hiding. The quick pitter-patter of running little feet come from the other end of the cabin, and his son is screaming. “Ahh! I don’t like it! Cian!” 

“Kyros!” Sylus calls, voice deep and loud, beckoning the little boy’s attention to him from down the aisle.

Kyros says nothing as he runs to his father, arms clinging to his neck immediately when Sylus bends to pick him up. “Papa, don’t like it.” 

Sylus is so confused. He’s confused and distressed and fuming that these two have manifested in his very dangerous plane on the way to his very dangerous mission.

He wonders if it’s a prank, if it’s truly your mischief that they inherited and their maternal source is also on this plane hiding somewhere he has yet to discover.

But by the looks of the two unblinking eyes staring up at him with guilt written all over, he’s sure it isn’t. His heart sinks to his stomach and he feels the sudden urge to throw up.

And the boys know that look, rare as it is, it is distinct and unmistakable. Papa mad. 

The plane dips again, this time more abruptly and violently. Lucian actually freezes this time, fists tightening around the fabric of Sylus’s jacket, and Kyros buries his face in the crook of Sylus’s neck. 

The speakers crackle to life. “Sir, we’re under attack.” 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ 

Sylus is cool headed in every situation, only because he knows he can get out of anything in one piece. He is always with the upper hand, always at the advantage even when it seems like he isn’t. He expected an attack, eventually. With the high profile protocores he’s transporting in his jet, it’s only appropriate for his enemies to intercept the exchange and bypass payment. Maybe even try their hand at destroying the head of the serpent Onychinus. 

If that were the case, he wouldn’t mind. He’d been prepared after all. 

What he isn’t prepared for is the presence of his two most prized possessions being on board alongside the greed-bait in his cargo hold. He can regenerate, redirect energy into his cells to heal, manipulate particles in the air to fly— but his children cannot. 

And as much as he was livid that these two were now in this with him, his mind is divided by the strategies he conjures in his head to keep them safe. To keep them alive. 

And to keep them calm. 

Lucian is already taking quick, nervous breaths and clinging to him like a vice, asking questions about their safety and survival— are we bad? gonna to be dead? Is it hurt, papa? Don’t want hurt! 

Kyros is silently shaking in his hold. Both already so small, shrunken even smaller in their fear. 

“No attack, don’t like ‘tack.” Kyros begs, his voice trembling as he weeps. Sylus has to take a deep breath to collect himself. 

“I sorry. I sorry, papa.” Lucian is wailing, hiding in the collar of his shirt. 

“Listen to me.” He finally says, securing them both within his inner shirt and jacket. “It’s going to be loud and dark. Do not let go of papa. Do you understand?” 

They nod and warble out wet yeses, finding purchase anywhere their fingers allow them to in the small space. On the fabric of Sylus’s clothes, in each other’s arms. Their arms lock together unprompted, unwilling to let go. 

With that, Sylus marches to the cockpit and takes the helm.

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

You’re going to kill him. 

You’ve done it once, you’ve tried that second time— both times he’d pulled the trigger.

But this time, this time you’ll do it all on your own.

He’d never experienced the hardships of flying a burning jet with a screaming toddler on his chest, whilst simultaneously constantly checking if the other is still even breathing with the silence he’d shut himself to. By all the mercies of the universe, he’d managed to land the plane safely without any casualties or injury, just irreversible trauma to his sons. 

Which you will kill him for.

He sighs a deep breath, eyeing his men not to say a word about the sobbing little lumps in his clothes. He’d landed on a secured plot, a territory he’d acquired long ago. Not too far off target, but it will buy them time. 

The silence stretches as he walks with his sons into the cabin.

He unlatches them one at a time and places them on his lap. Lucian first since he was already looking up at him, asking if it was over. Kyros next, harder since his little nails had dug into the skin on the nape of his neck. 

And despite the anger that simmered beneath, his first instinct is to soothe. He knows neither of them will answer his questions in this state, nor will appreciate his scolding. So he gathers them into his arms, and presses his face between them, guiding their cheeks onto either side of his and whispering in their ears. “Shh, shh…” 

“Papa, no more.” Kyros gasps though his tears, hiccuping painfully as he cries.

“Want mama.” Lucian sobs, finding comfort in clutching Sylus’s ear to bring him closer. Seeking comfort like a moth to a flame. “Mama, mama please.” 

“I know, I know.” He shushes, rocking them to calm. Squeezing their arms to ground. Brushing tears away and showing his face, modeling even breathing and an encouraging expression. And when they relax— when Kyros is wiping his own tears away and Lucian is no longer tugging on his ear, he pulls away. 

“You are not supposed to be here.” He says sternly. The tearful eyes he wipes at are downcast, and their cheeks puff at his tone. Neither of the twins like being scolded by papa, but this time they knew they deserved it. Sylus continues, despite the ache in his heart, the need to let them know how dangerous and wrong it is to have snuck away from their mother, to have followed him here without anyone else knowing rises above all of it. “Do you see what happens?” 

“Papa mad.” Lucian points out. Not to mock or appeal, just to process. 

“Yes, I’m mad.” Sylus swallows to keep his voice from rising, still just recovering from the throes of adrenaline himself. Recovering from the poisonous fear that paralyzed him at the thought of failing to protect them, at the thought of them… 

He shakes his head. None of those thoughts are welcome in his mind, and he will burn every single one that attempts to enter at the stake. “I’m mad because I almost lost you.” 

“We here, papa.” Kyros tries. Always, he tries to mediate and reassure. A mirror, a reflection of how his parents comfort him when he is panicked and anxious. 

Sylus crumbles. His face open and vulnerable, every crease and twitch visible and unguarded as he holds his sons’ small hands in his, as if forcing them to look— see, see and understand that I cannot afford anything happening to you. 

“Yes, Kyros, but what if I hadn’t found you in time? What if the plane—“ his voice breaks, and he has to swallow again to reel it in. “What if the plane went down? Without me knowing you were here?” 

Kyros sniffles, looking down, realizing in his own little way that they could have been lost still under the chairs. That their game could have ended with neither of them finding papa. “Kyros— me and- and Cian hiding.” 

Sylus prompts. “From what?” 

“Didn’t want you to go ‘ishun.” Kyros’s lips starts to tremble, as if his body is processing how shaken he actually is before his mind does. “Wanted to come.” 

“Why?” Sylus begs, trying to make sense of it all. Retracing every lesson, every rule of survival and safety he’d given to them. “You wanted to watch Bubble Pals. Why are you here?” 

“Papa, I—“ Lucian murmurs. He is tugging at his father’s hand to reenact he movement and to bring his attention away from his brother. “I pull Kee-ro. I pull. And—and I say hiding from mama and biggies.” 

Sylus’s jaw trembles as he tries to control his breaths. Here are his sons before him, confessing with fear in their eyes as if they’d been convicted of a crime. Speaking their reasons, protecting each other in the face of their daunting father, so soon after being scared to death. 

And what courage that takes for such little souls. Despite it all, beneath the burning in his chest, he can’t help but be proud. 

“What did we tell you about getting lost?”

“Don’t.” they speak their script together, equally as sorrowful and ashamed. 

He watches their eyes, scrutinizes for any sign of understanding. If not the weight of their actions, then the stones of consequences settling in. He takes in their shaking hands and their stuttering breaths, their tear stained cheeks and their swollen eyes. And the longing on their face for him to stop being angry, now, and hold them. 

Please. 

He nods once, deciding this is enough for the time being. There are still forces beyond the battered walls of the plane that will try to get to him, and now two of his most critical weaknesses are on board. 

His arms circle around each back, crowding them close to his body and he holds on to them like his life depended on it. Spreading his fingers over their ribs to feel the tidal movement, shutting his eyes to listen to their hiccups, absorbing their warmth to let himself know: they are alive. They are still alive. 

“I sorry,” Lucian is the first to murmur, to take responsibility. Like a good older brother, like the good soldier he likes to pretend to be in his games. 

Kyros follows, speaking for both of them when he whispers. It echoes in Sylus’s mind, stiffens his muscles and leadens his bones. “Love you, papa. Love you.” 

“I love you.” Saying it was sandpaper and rubble in his throat, but butter and milk to the ears that listen. He kisses both their foreheads tenderly. Then he rises. “I’m calling mama.” 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

His blood runs cold at the thirty missed calls on his phone that had flown at the end of the plane. With each twin holding onto his pants, it takes a while for him to locate it. And when he does, it’s a few minutes too late. 

“Sylus! Sylus, I can’t find them- they, they—“ he hears your sporadic intakes of breath, knows you’re shaking and on the verge of tearing your hair out— “please pick up. I’ve lost them, I’m so—“ 

He doesn’t continue the message, he calls you without a second thought. You pick up by the second ring, with a distressed yell. “Sylus—!” 

“Breathe.” His voice is rumbling thunder over stormy seas. “Beloved—“

“The boys.” You’re sobbing, your voice is raw and raspy, no doubt from screaming. “They’re gone, I can’t—“ 

“They’re with me.” He says quickly, detesting prolonging your worry. Hating the sound of your pain. “They’re safe, beloved. They’re with me.” 

He hears you take deep breaths, hauling in as much air as you can in your lungs even as your body rejects it. He hears a thud— imagines you collapsing against the wall, the weight of panic and relief dragging you down.

“Head between your knees.” He reminds gently, pushing against the image of your agony. Feeling the twinging in his own heart at your torment. “Let me hear you counting.” 

He listens as you count to ten, as you come back to the ground and then finally find your footing. “Where? How?” 

“We’re on the plane, we landed a few minutes ago.” He explains, absentmindedly placing a hand on one of the heads looking up at him in worry. To reassure them mama is okay. To reassure himself they are still there. 

“I want to hear them.” You beg. Your limbs are jelly, heart still racing and you’re about to throw up. Still just recovering from being prepared to burn the entire world to get your children back from wherever they’d wandered. 

You wait with bated breath, eyes squeezed shut, breathing in through your nose and panting out through your mouth. Until you hear a little voice wrinkle the phone line. “Mama? Hi, mama.” 

“Mama, it’s Kyros, mama.” The voice says, and your eyes burn. Your hands shake as you press the phone to your ear, as if doing so would squeeze you through the other side, where you can hold him. 

“Kyros.” You sob. Kyros frowns and his eyes well up again. “Kyros, stay with papa, okay? I’m coming.” 

“Lucian, can you hear me?” 

“Yes, mama. I sorry. I sorry!” He’s crying again too. “I go home, wanna go home!” 

“I’m coming, angel, I’m coming. Stay with papa.” You swear, already starting to get the feeling back in your legs. As soon as you do, you get up and rummage through your essentials, getting ready to go.

Sylus calls your name on the other end. You stiffen and then relax, a rushing stream of cool water washing over you at the sound. 

“Sylus, are you okay?” You ask, overlapping him asking you the same question. 

His voice is frayed, wary and brittle at the edges. “They aren’t hurt.” 

“I know.” you sound sure, like he’d just told you the sky is blue. Your voice softens as you clarify, “Are you?” 

Your faith in him to keep your children safe is indisputable, and that very fact pummels him to the ground. He doesn’t lie. “No.”

“I’m coming.” you insist, genuinely expecting him to stop you.

But instead, fear no different from your children, he breathes. “Please.” 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Between the moment you hang up and the moment you arrive, Sylus’s hands are tied at the demands of the mission he’d committed to partake in.

His men warn him of the oncoming enemies, of the people who’d tried to knock him out of the sky now dressed in elegant suits and brandishing clean hands.

On any other occasion, he’d welcome it. To have him be seen as a threat to eliminate, to let his enemies think they have the upper hand when in reality there is no situation they will ever be, not when he is a player on the board. He’d let them have their fun, endure the hassle, stretch his muscles and feast on the conflict. Indulge in the mind games they try to wield to manipulate him, which are nothing but mild entertainment at best. 

On any other occasion, he’d draw it out, play with his food before he swallows them whole.

But on this one, he’s not in the mood. 

The little ones, now dwarfed in blankets, have finally found comfort without clutching onto his clothes. They sit together on one seat and talk quietly amongst themselves. Kyros had sculpted a blob from the tinfoil of his inflight sandwich. Lucian is stabbing arms and legs onto it with the toothpicks. 

Sylus sits across them, fingers on his temples, watching silently as they interact. Going over every scene that had led him here, silently torturing himself in the midst of his children’s slowly returning normalcy. And frankly, he doesn’t care to be disturbed. 

Lucian sticks another toothpick in. Kyros tells him to be careful because it’s sharp. They share a laugh when they are able to get the blob to stay upright. Sylus is fuming beneath his skin, every nerve alight at the fury he feels for the people who dared touch his sons.

The click of the cockpit door is enough for him to move. He stands before the captain of the aircraft is even able to lay eyes on his children, taking up the entirety of the aisle with his ominous presence. 

“Speak.” 

The traders are awaiting for him to step out of the fuselage, to present them with what they’d asked for and more— now that he’s been “intimidated”. He doesn’t need the report, he knows how this goes. He’s done it a million times before that by now it’s a chore.

Except for this. This was an offense.

“Let them wait.” he doesn’t need to say it again. He refuses to leave his sons alone, or with anyone else that isn’t their mother. 

“They’ll force entry, sir.” the pilot points out.

Sylus gives him a deadpan stare. He’d like to see them try. “Then let them.” 

“But—“ 

The insistence and blatant defiance of his command makes it click in Sylus’s mind. It should have clicked the moment the seatbelt sign went off. A swift moment of clarity as the smoke is sucked into the void and he realizes the betrayal. His right eye flares as he taps into his evol to confirm, to burn through the soul of the man before him and reveal his greatest desires.

Power. Wealth. Vengeance.

Fool. 

“I should commend you, captain. My nose is usually sharp when it comes to traitors, specially when they stand right beneath it.” Sylus says, menacingly low and irate. “But you’ve managed to get this far.” 

“What—“

With a flick of his finger, the pilot’s limbs are bound by the slightest rings of energy. The gun he held behind his back falls to the ground, and Sylus is quick to obliterate it to nothing but the dirt beneath his feet. 

Sinewy mist like blood and shadow dance around the traitor in a mocking comfort before the end of his life. It curls around his arms and caresses the veins on his neck, seducing him to his doom.

“Unfortunately, you’ve caught me on a bad day. I have those too, I should let you know.” Sylus steps closer, slowly. His fingers flutter ever so slightly, and he sews his lips shut with dark thorn vines and watches him writhe in his misery. “I almost died. You understand, right?” 

Sylus has never felt more anger than he has in this moment. In the face of the man who thought he could rewrite the route, give away their position for them to lock on, send the signal for the missiles to fire. To end his life, to take the loot for his own. 

But with the worst of luck— which Sylus tends to bring— two little boys snuck into the aircraft and turned this, what was an equivalent to a harmless prank for Sylus alone, into the gravest of sins against a monster, a fiend, a father. 

Sylus stares, eyes widening ever so slightly as he watches the fear in the vermin’s eyes as he squirms. So different from the fear in his sons’. So deserving of him who dared take what was his. He’s sure, deep down, he’ll enjoy this. He’ll revel in the vision of him turning into ash, mere atoms devoid of a soul. And he’ll make it hurt too. 

“Boys.” He calls over his shoulder. A slight tilt of his face to the two faceless lumps in his clothes earlier. “Peek-a-boo.” 

The pilot scowls, trembling in fear at the mad look in the crimson eyes that hold him.

And on command, unaware of what is going on behind their seats, the boys shut their eyes in excitement. “Peek!”

Sylus snaps. The man barely has time to scream before he is reduced to dust. “A-boo.”

“A-boo!” Lucian hops up on the chair a split second later, looking over the headrest to find Sylus staring at now empty space. He waves, reaching forward but not quite catching him with his short arms. “Papa, I over here.”

It takes a moment for him to turn. But when he does, his eyes are bright and playful, a ghost of a smirk curls the corner of his mouth. “I see you.” 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

It registers immediately when you hop out of the helicopter. Luke flanks you. Kieran lands somewhere nearby. The sight of your husband’s aircraft curdles your stomach and twists your heart into something unrecognizable. 

Scorched panels, chunks of metal missing from the wings and fin, burnt rubber marks on the tarmac despite being perfectly parked. It doesn’t take a genius to know they’d been attacked, and your heart stops at the thought.

Your family. Your boys.

Instincts kick in and your eyes zero in on the men lurking around the plane. None of them which you recognize, but by the way they walk with their guns at the ready and energy of their evol irritating your resonance, you know. You know. 

Sylus is rubbing off on you. You’d admit to it proudly, knowing Luke will bring it up later. Because then you say, low and controlled. “Take the vermin out.” 

Luke is quick to move, Kieran hears the command through his brother’s ears and they get to work. 

You walk, slowly but not inconspicuously, letting your presence be known in the space you enter. Declaring war by your presence. You see the people stiffen to attention at your appearance. Guns drawn, cocked and aimed at you.

In the corner of your eye, you see the twins take out their first victim in the shadows. A scream— an alarm— and then chaos befalls.

You draw your weapon from thin air, and charge at the first person that comes in between you and your family. 

You are known for your many talents and endless compassion. Mercy, you are well acquainted with, kind enough to offer it unprompted, when you can. 

A gallant, lawful hunter. 

But tonight, in the secluded island of traitors and thieves, away from the eyes of the law, you are no better than the ruthless filth that thrive in its darkness. 

Not when they attempt to steal from you. Not when they try to take what’s yours. 

You’ll wash your hands of the blood before you hold your son’s faces in a moment. For now, you fight. You dispose. You kill.

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Sylus knows the carnage is done once the taps on the hull are to the rhythm of your favorite song. The one you haven’t stopped humming since you heard it three weeks ago, the one you buzz in his ear like a mosquito just before you go to sleep just to mess with him. And he’s never felt more relieved to hear the tune.

He opens the cabin doors, telling the boys to stay in their seats as he does. He’s sure it’s you. But the just-in-case is the wound that’s beginning to fester.

He feels you before he truly sees you, when you crash into him like an avalanche and wind your tired arms around his shoulders and cling. His strength takes leave entirely at your touch, except for the vice he holds you with around the waist with his arms.

“Sylus,” you breathe, finally. Feeling the air push all the way down to your lungs ushered by his scent. His name is a prayer on your lips, desperate and raw. “Sylus.” 

He’s silent when he embraces you, holding on tight like you were his only lifeline. Like he’d collapse if he loosened even just that little bit. He’ll release when you complain, but for now, he needs your presence. He needs you. 

When you have your fill, or at least enough for now, you tap at his shoulders to make way. He understands completely, peels himself off you like burnt skin and watches you sprint to a kneel before your children. 

“Mama!” they cry, whispers turning to pitchy screams as they tackle you in a hug. Over your head, around your waist. “Mama! Mama!” 

Kyros is sobbing, he doesn’t know why— he doesn’t feel sad or scared anymore. The opposite, really. But he doesn’t dwell, just curls up in your chest and grabs onto your clothes. Lucian has his arms around your neck, squeezing enough to choke— but you don’t mind. You don’t dare complain or pull them off to right their positions. Not now when your mind is only just registering that they’re okay. Realizing they’re alive. 

“I sorry.” Lucian is still saying, feeling the guilt deep, deep in his little heart. He’ll carry it forever, but you’ll work on helping him understand how to lighten the load. 

You shake your head. They watch as hot tears stream down their mama’s pretty face. “I’m glad you’re safe. I love you, I love you. I’m glad you’re okay.” 

And so he cries too. And it carves you right open, drives a hook in the center of you heart— such little babies falling apart at the seams for a mistake they didn’t mean to make. 

No one knows how long the reunion lasts, but you come to your senses once Kyros and Lucian are asleep in your arms. Sylus is no where in sight, having excused himself to deal with any more scum that linger. But you know better. His distance isn’t just because of the precautions. You know he is drowning now, too. And he is scrambling for something to pull him back to shore.

And your heart breaks that it isn’t you he reaches for.

Aside from your initial embrace, he hadn’t approached when you held your boys. He didn’t fall against the pile when you cried with your children. He didn’t dare touch any of you. And despite being busy checking little limbs for wounds or bruises, you see clear as day, in the corner of your vision, how Sylus’s hands tremble, how his hard eyes look far away— searching for something beyond comprehension. A balm, a reason to not feel shame. 

And you will die a thousand deaths before you let him believe he’s alone. With a grunt, you push your legs to stand, supporting a twin on each arm and wander to the cabin doors. But just before you reach them, a wall of muscle blocks you from the exit. 

You release a breath of relief, unaware he was within the cabin with you. “Kieran.”

“He asked you not to go out there.” he says simply. You don’t miss how his gaze lingers on the sleeping figures in your arms. You see the agony behind his front too. 

You had thought earlier that the little ones were safe with him and Luke. But when they arrived empty-handed, they watched as your world fell apart— and theirs did just as fast. Hardening like machines, predators on the prowl, they march out to track their brothers down, without a hint of forbearance for whoever they find accountable for their disappearance. 

Your heart squeezes at the look in his eyes, and you prop Lucian up your hip. “Take him.” 

“You can’t possibly trust me.” he mutters, unable to look at you. “Not after…”

You guide the boy in his arms, taking in no argument. “It wasn’t your fault.”

His jaw tightens when he grinds his teeth. “I should have been keeping an eye on them.” 

“No, you were prepping for Sylus’s departure.” You point out. It was true. Before they’d gone, Luke and Kieran were securing the cargo within the aircraft. 

But Kieran was raised by a stubborn beast. You know because you married that beast. “They said they were coming with us.” 

And I didn’t take them, was what didn’t follow. 

“They had every intention to go with their father.” Lucian had said so, apologized for, he’d tugged his brother away into the plane as soon as they saw the stairway to the aircraft on the way to the twins. 

“We should have seen them. I should have noticed—“

“Kieran.” you sigh, exasperated and tired. “No, it’s not your fault.” 

“He is my ward.” The declaration is whispered. It burns on his tongue as he watches the little boy stir in his arms at the rising voices. Then he looks at Kyros, Luke’s. The assignment was not outright, but internalized the moment the boys were born. They’d each protect one if not both. That was the oath they took and sworn their lives to. The more than they’d sought for their entire lives. “They are our brothers, and we failed them.” 

You swallow. A haze in your mind as you struggle with the want to understand, the need to understand and be the comforting figure Kieran quietly asks for. But right now, you have no energy left to extend compassion, for your own misery has started to consume you whole as well. 

Their brothers they’ve failed. Your sons, you’d lost.  “How do you think I feel?” 

Kieran’s lips press into a thin line and surrender dawns on his face. He can’t. He can’t imagine how you might feel, but he doesn’t regret speaking his thoughts to you. Doesn’t regret telling you that he’d lay his life down for your sons without question. So he lets it go, silently bowing his head in apology. 

He accepts Kyros without a word when you hand him over as well. His muscles twitching at the effort to be gentle with these bodies after harming so many others. Others who deserved it. Others who caused them all pain. 

Lucian shifts in his arm, turning his face to his chest and holding onto his clothes. From scent, or touch or voice, he’ll never know, but Lucian recognizes him and presses himself closer. Murmuring sleepily, “Kee-wan…” 

Kieran feels the ground give way beneath his feet. He places a careful hand on the back of Lucian’s head and presses his forehead against his small one, like a lion repairing a bond. 

You know he’ll protect them. He’d declared it so brazenly, and you never once doubted him or Luke, no matter how upset you get. You pray he sees that in the way you brush the blood of his cheek with your thumb, before you set off to find your husband. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

There is a jet in a nearby hangar. Smaller, cleaner, darker in color and sleeker in design. Enough to cloak itself and its passengers in the cover of the night. 

He always feels you before he sees you. This time with the tug on his soul, like you’d been following the thread and pulling on it until it led you to the other end. To him. “We’re leaving in a moment.” 

You step into his space. “Sylus…“

He doesn’t turn to face you from where he stands, within dead air and hollow cold, with shoulders locked and movements mechanical, preparing something else in his hands. Something small— deathly and incredibly cataclysmic. 

You frown. “You’re going to burn the protocores?” 

His voice is low, tone clipped. “The island.” 

Your brows draw together in disapproval. “Sy—“ 

“Get the boys on the jet.” He practically snarls, grabbing another tool from a bench and walking away from you. 

A mistake. To cut you off, firstly, and then to ignore you. You scow, grab his arm and turn him to meet your anger. His eyes burn at your audacity, and it fuels the fire already simmering in your chest. 

No. Not after everything you’re going through. He does not get to do this. To bear the load, to corrode inside and let you watch. Not when you almost lost your boys, not when you almost lost him too. You hiss through gritted teeth. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

The darkness that has taken captive his soul burns, scalding and heavy in his anguish, responds to you. He feels it take form of the beast he was, then bow its head low and curl around your point of connection. Your skin on his, your hand on his wrist. 

His eyes soften ever so slightly, not much, but enough for you to see. To calm the rage you are beginning to feel at the stubbornness that is manifesting within the crevices of the people you love. He mutters, “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m here. Look at me.” You ask, firm. The tone you use on the boys when they are irrepressible. The tone you now use on him when he refuses to let you in. 

He does, as he always will, and you see for the first time tonight the wreckage behind the rubies that used to shine. There is a sheen of glass that coats his gaze, the lights on the runway reflect on them devastating. His corneas are almost as red as his irises, and his eyes are lost— helplessly screaming, begging for justice, purgation, revenge. 

You’d have collapsed if you didn’t take his face in your hands. Yet, you couldn’t afford that now when he needed you to hold him as his sanity is the crust of a planet’s about to implode. 

“Get on the jet, please.” He pleads softly, his own head bowing down now to press his forehead to yours. Grounding himself in you, finding leverage in the other half of his soul. 

“We got them all. It’s done.” You whisper, breath fanning over his lips. “Let’s go home.” 

“It’s not enough.” He grits. Anger wild and untamed, itching to destroy— to level the world and rid it of filth. To rid it of people of who’ve tried to hurt his family. To rid it of putrid traces of what has happened so it can never happen again.

To spare himself of this memory.

“It is. It is.” You cry, caressing his cheeks with gentle fingers. You want him to come back—you need him to come back with you so you can gather your family close into your arms and keep them all away from harm. So you beg, brushing his hair to circle your palms around his jaw. “It is for now.” 

He shakes his head, you grip him tighter as if that would make him stop. Enough, enough, enough please— or else you’ll slip and you’ll fall and you won’t be able to hold him up anymore. And you refuse to let him fall.

“I have to— they almost died.” His hand comes to squeeze your wrists, bringing your hands to his skin harder. Silently asking to hold, to bear unbelievable pain he cannot endure. Pain that slips through in the way his voice breaks, and his shoulders begin to unravel. “The way— I can’t, I can’t get it out of my head.” 

“What, beloved?” 

“The way they looked at me.” he chokes. 

When Sylus breaks, he breaks in pieces. Like little flakes of paint of an old rusted pipe, fluttering in slow twirls in the wind as they fall to the ground. His undoing is quiet, it’s unnoticeable until the paint leaves entirely for the rust to weaken the pipe. Until the water breaks through and bursts from the flood awaiting inside. 

You feel the weight of him increase in your hold as his knees buckle beneath. You feel him snake his arms around your waist and hold as if he’s being taken from you, pulled away by a relentless current in sea. 

In place of tears, there is trembling. Shaking so profound he might affect the ground. His breaths are hard and heavy and effortful as he forces his lungs to work. And it is agony to watch the strongest man you know force himself to be stronger when he is clearly falling apart. 

You let him, you hold the parts that break, pocket the pieces and patch your palms over the holes of his cracking vessel.

He lets you in. Married to you in every way, bonded to you beyond the universe’s laws. He lays out his sorrow, with a quivering voice only you have ever heard in this moment alone. “Lucian cried the whole time I landed the plane. He was screaming for you— begging me to bring him to you. And all I could think of was… what if I couldn’t? What if he never got to see you again because of me?”

“And Kyros—“ he rasps like he’s drowning. 

“I— I didn’t even know if he was still breathing.” his teeth grind at the memory. Gripping the yoke and pulling the jet up from its nosedive, while simultaneously palming Kyros’s back to check if he was suspiring. “He was so still. He was so quiet. But I felt his tears, and I kept wondering if it was blood—if it was blood—“ 

Across the runway, beyond the carnage and chaos, the damaged plane waits. Your sons inside— safe, asleep, alive. But the man who saved them, their father who laid his life on the line to ensure their survival punishes himself before you. 

And it is unbearable. Like a stone to your chest bearing down, to see him believe that he could ever fail in protecting your children. The dagger of this situation is now at your throat, you feel it break through the grip you held it at bay with in the face of Kieran. But now it pushes past muscle and bone, clean across at the sound of Sylus’s despair. 

“I should have—“ 

You choke, nails digging into your palm. “I should have been watching them, I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry I let this happen. I’m sorry we almost lost them. I’m sorry I did this to you. 

The reaction is a bullet in a wasteland. He stiffens and then— sudden and abrupt, his fingers grip tight on your shoulders. He doesn’t mind you falling apart with him, but blaming yourself was out of the picture. He knows you as well as you know him, and he refuses to let you believe you are point zero. “Don’t.” 

“Sylus.” you’re helpless. All roads going back lead to you— your negligence, your carelessness. He saved them, you let them wander into the crossfire.

“Do not.” The command rumbles in his chest like a furnace. “I won’t hear it. It’s not.” 

And like you told Kieran, he insists on you too. It’s not your fault. 

And now neither of you know who’s holding who. All you feel is that wound— that what if that will haunt you until the end of time. 

The silence washes over you both as the wind blows colder and yet you stay warm. Visions become clear, trembles cease. The scale’s shifting has stopped and a balance is met between the two hearts that have gathered together and held firm. It recedes for now, enough to melt the numb, enough to help you rise to your feet. Then—

“We must press on.” He says once you learn how to breathe again. When he no longer shakes and your tears have dried. The pain lingers, bitter on your tongues— a demon gnawing at your ankles no matter how far and how hard you try to run.

But he presses a kiss to your forehead, tugging you back along with him, wading the shallows back to shore hand-in-hand with you. You dove into his depths, reached for his hands and now he is saying, come back. 

You have me now, come back with me. 

 It is humid and dim back on land, but you arrive, and you survive.

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Kyros opens his eyes first to the blurred vision of a familiar face looking straight ahead. He escapes the sharper edges of a nightmare he now cannot remember. The pressure in the arms that hold him help him regulate his breathing. His hand comes up to touch the face of his cradle, drawing attention to himself with a soft bap. “Wook.” 

Luke glances down, his face twisting into something unreadable for a toddler to recognize when he meets Kyros’s half-lidded gaze. 

He swallows down the emotions that come with realizing he’s holding someone he could have lost today; with facing the innocent eyes of someone he failed. He takes the little hands on his face into his palm. His voice comes out, rough and unused, “Hey, Roro.”

Kyros scratches his belly. “M’hungry.” 

“Oh, yeah? What do you want to eat?” 

Kyros thinks in his sleepy haze. Luke watches each expression on his face, taking in the shifting of his eyes and the dip in his little brow, following the tiny hands that rub bleary eyes. His own lip wobbles as the thought of never seeing him again overwhelms him, and his sinuses flood with fire. 

“Mashy ‘tatoes,” says Kyros finally, and Luke pulls him up from his belly to his chest in a tight embrace. Kyros giggles at the quick motion. “Ah!” 

But then he hears the sniffling, and the bear hugging him is trembling. Kyros frowns, fingers fidgeting with the hood of Luke’s uniform. “Wook— is crying? No cry, Wook, s’okay. See? See?”

The day Luke executed the perfect deep-pressure hug for Kyros was a turning point for him. That day, he took it upon himself to memorize every flexion and extension of each and every muscle in his arms to recreate it. And soon enough, Kyros has been running to him to receive the grounding hug the most when he is scared or upset.

But now, the roles have reversed. No longer does he have the strength in his arms to deliver Kyros the comfort he’s so used to giving. Instead, he has the fear and the distress. It is Kyros who is using his short arms to draw him in a soothing embrace.

“When ya sad ’n feelin’ boo…” Kyros starts in a whisper and hums the instrumental that follows. It crushes Luke and he sobs even more. “Lemme pop sum bubbles wi’f you…” 

Kyros is a mirror of all he loves. He watches and then does, and now he mirrors the way he is loved back. 

Luke feels the movement and recognizes it despite not seeing Kyros’s hands. The little boy plants little pokes on his back, singing, “Pop, pop, pop…”

Luke lets out a soft snort, unable to stop the fond smile that emerges from the devastation. He pulls away and wipes at his tears to meet Kyros’s owlish, expectant look. Kyros places a few more pokes on Luke’s cheeks and chin, as he urges. “Pop, pop, c’mon, Wook.” 

Luke shakes his head and a chuckle finally bubbles out of his chest. He pokes Kyros’s cheeks too. “Pop, pop, pop.” 

Kyros smiles. Luke’s world raptures all around him, but the little boy in his arms anchors him in place, tiny fingers refusing to let him go. Together, they sing, “Pop, pop, pop.” 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Kyros and Lucian, who wakes not soon after, follow the trail of lights on the ground to the cockpit. The big twins hover, but allow them to lead the way. They only help to slide the heavy door open. 

“What is it?” Sylus asks, assuming only either Luke and Kieran can open the cockpit door. He doesn’t turn from the expanse of the sky, all too focused on bringing you all home. Beside him, neither do you as you co-pilot the craft. 

But you both do when two voices chorus a wonderous, “Woooooow.” 

Before you know it, a little twin is climbing over each of your legs and settling themselves on their selected parent. 

“Stars, papa!” Kyros says, pointing as if Sylus was the one who’d just gotten here. 

“And clouds! Wow!” Lucian howls, bouncing on your knees. His small hands rest over yours on the yoke. “Can I try? Can I try, mama, please?” 

Before they’d come in, you’d started to feel the tired tugging of fatigue beneath your salt-crusted eyes. Sylus had chided you to go to sleep, but you refused to leave him alone. 

Lucian takes all of that away. The weight of him on you, the warmth his beating heart gives his body radiating off on yours and his bright carmine eyes twinkling back the lights on the console. You feel something in your chest loosen, and you’re wading water again with ease. 

You nod, kissing his forehead tenderly, and give him the handles. Discreetly, you flip on auto-pilot as you drop your hands to keep him in place by the waist.

He wiggles it like a steering wheel of a car. It’s rendered useless for actually flying the jet, but he feels like he’s in control and that mattered to you more. 

“This how papa do!” he exclaims suddenly, followed by an exaggerated actions of tugging and twisting. “Then—then, n’yeroowww!” 

You find Sylus staring at him in awe. The crumple in his brow makes you wonder if he is hearing the screams of terror in the background of this too sudden joy. 

“What did you think of papa, hm?” you ask Lucian, wanting to know, but also wanting to show Sylus that his children are what you raised them to be— children. They will be scared, and cry and do foolish things they know not are foolish, but they will come back to him with love every time. Just as how they were taught. Just as how you taught them.

“Papa was cool! He drived like—like this—“ he jiggles the yoke again, more enthusiastically this time. Grr-ing and roaring like he’s straining. “And I cryin— wahh!— I think, I think we was gonna to fall, and clouds gonna eat us!—but papa was drivin’ driving fast. Like this—“ 

The cycle goes on— papa was cool, he was driving, Lucian was crying, but papa was cool and he was driving. 

Sylus is still waiting for that pin to drop, for Lucian to say something he believes— that papa was scary, papa was mean, papa made him cry.

But he never does. And the lump in his throat melts, the pounding in his ears quieten— the cut is still fresh, tender to the touch, but it no longer bleeds. 

Half of the battle is won for now, until Sylus looks down at the twin on his lap. Kyros has turned to face him, legs tucked neatly to his chest as he waits for papa to look at him.

“Kyros,” Sylus rasps, lips as always drawn to his baby’s head. He murmurs, “You okay?” 

He nods the way he usually does, using muscles in his torso to rock along with his head. “A-huh.” 

“Were you scared, turtle?” Sylus asks. His fingers brushing over squishy cheeks and moon-touched hair, ritualistic and grounding for both of them.

“A-huh.” Kyros nods, always painfully honest. 

Sylus feels his heart seize. “I’m sorry—“ 

“But—but, listened to papa. I listened to papa’s heart,” he says quickly, placing both hands over Sylus’s chest. Sylus stops, tilts his head in confusion, not understanding what he means. 

“Like dis. See?” Kyros climbs, reenacting his hold on him earlier, underneath his clothes, when Sylus couldn’t see or feel him breathing. Kyros circles his arms around Sylus’s neck and positions his ear on his chest, then promptly hums, “Bum, bum, bum.” 

And at last, for the first time today, Sylus feels the earth return beneath his feet. Benumbed before, he now feels the sting of the cold air on his face and a syrupy relief drain through his veins. His voice is broken when it emerges, “Did that help you, Kyros?”

“Yes. I follow mama.” he says, pointing at you who he’s seen the trick from. Who stares at him, listening in— eavesdropping as you so loved to do. He is referring to when you’d have bad days and lay yourself over Sylus’s heart to gather your thoughts. Unaware of the curious eyes watching and learning from your ways.

Sylus nods, failing to keep his emotions at bay. He hides his face in Kyros’s hair and kisses him over and over and over. “Good. Good, you did good.”

You feel it together, you and Sylus, the knot unraveling from your chest. Your heads breaking the surface tension of the heaviest of waters to take one full, real breath. The wrinkled tether between your souls stretched and righted to feel open and safe again, even if it’s just that little bit. All because of this, of them— your boys, of their forgiveness, of their love.

“Lava!” Lucian yells excitedly, seeing the blue hues of the sky transform to its melding yellows and oranges. You follow his reference and look forward. Despite his sensitivities, Sylus peeks over Kyros’s head to look too.

There is a line in the horizon, painted bright and slow; the emerging sunlight creating pools and craters of molten amber— lava—in the canopy of clouds. 

Sylus still doesn’t know if he deserves any of it— the compassion, the kindness, the forgiveness in its purest form, in the shape of two little boys who’d stared into the eyes of death and placed all their trust into their father. Neither do you who they sought out for despite losing them. You will bear the wounds and the shortcomings from this for the rest of your life. 

But when the dark clouds are turned golden by the light, you learn that you never had to ask for it. For once, there is a love purer than his and yours— theirs. 

The sunlight washes over you all as you cruise the clouds above. The littles have never seen a sunrise from this vantage point, the bigs have forgotten what it looks like. 

You and Sylus know what it means, what this feeling that settles in your bones as the morning offers refuge to the unfinished sorrows of the night. 

A dawn, another chance. As the sky breaks open like your hearts have, you vow— today, you will try again. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

“Papa?” Kyros whispers. You all turn to listen to what he says and revel at the beauty of his dark eyes made light in the sunshine. 

“Hm? Angel?” Sylus replies. 

Kyros understands mornings to an extent too. A morning comes after sleep, and after ‘one sleep’ you promised him a special day. “You comin’ to Bubble Pals now?” 

Lucian gasps in excitement, eyes glowing suns on their own, as he realizes too. 

Sylus smiles, wide and genuine it almost hurts. And you see it, his hands catching their joy, their hope and their love. Without fail, as he always does and always will.

✧˚ ⋆｡ read more with the little twins here || more sylus thoughts ✧˚ ⋆｡

thank you so, so much for reading!

sylus's little twins — intro

— meet Lucian & Kyros, sylus’s little energy storm! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: hi hi hi! im so excited to get this out hehehe, a formal-ish introduction to the twin boys i've been writing about in my boydad!sylus au. they were initially passing thoughts, but with all of your continuous enthusiasm towards the littles, they'd grown into these darling characters. i hope you enjoy & love them as much as i do! ❀-urs

kyros & lucian highlight | sylus x reader | parenting hcs/scenarios, little twin hcs, mama!reader, soft boydad!sylus 💕 ft. big twins (luke & kieran)!

general info:

☆ Lucian was born first, Kyros 10.9 minutes later 

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

sylus was there for all the check-ups & ultrasounds but only found out you were having twins during the last check-up. 

Lucian has always been more energetic and drawn to the spotlight, even in the womb— Kyros, sleepier and cozier, has tucked himself behind his brother in all their photos. It wasn't until the final weeks that Lucian decided to reveal his first little surprise to his parents— when he shifted and made way for them to meet the second heartbeat. Sylus had to take a seat. "Beloved, breathe," you chuckled, rubbing his thumb with your own as he blinks away the spots in his vision.

sylus barely slept the first three days they were born, watching all three of you like a guard dog 

not so much worried that something terrible will befall something so wonderful 

but just… taking it all in— something he'd never thought he'd have in any lifetime, and yet here you are. giving, giving, giving— his generous heart.

he walked to your side of the bed, pressed kisses to your forehead as you slept. you’d stir awake to him brushing your hair out of your eyes, feeling your cheekbones with the pad of his thumb. eyes soft and teary like melting lava. you yawn, catching his wrist with your fingers. “you okay? is something wrong?”  he smiles, shakes his head. “no. everything’s perfect.” 

he hovers over the boys constantly. quick to pick one up when he stirs.

"hello, little one, shh..." he murmurs. his voice breaks at the volume, unused to being so careful before. but he is trying. he will try everyday. "papa is here. papa's got you."

cant help but poke on their cheeks as they sleep, or ruffle their hair with his finger (they're so small, he can't believe it)

the first twin to grab his finger and hold on is kyros, and sylus needed several minutes to compose himself 

when one or both cries, sylus is always the first to respond. he checks diapers, gas and if it’s hunger, he wakes you gently (he's master of the night shift atp)

tummy time was difficult for him in the start, fearing the baby wouldn’t like it, that he’d run too warm or he accidentally shifts them the wrong way. but once he starts, it becomes his favorite pastime.

he hums to them, sings to them, reads to them. theres always at least one strapped to his chest as he goes about his day in the base.

when they get a little older and they can roll over on their bellies, sylus spends hours on his belly too, studying their faces and expressions. his sole purpose is to make them react. peek-a-boo is a favorite.

when lucian starts to babble (kyros will follow soon after) sylus is over the moon. he loves talking back to them. 

“ahh-ah. ooo-ea-ea.” kyros coos, pulling his legs up and down as if bouncing. “i understand, but mephisto is made of metal.” sylus says, chin resting on the nest his forearms had formed on the edge of the bassinets. “ah a wi wi waaaghu” lucian counters. “i didn’t see it that way. maybe i will try to change his synthetic fibers.” sylus nods. “ji ji aah! ah!” kyros. “and pre-record wheels on the bus, yes.” 

sylus 🤝🏻 nursery rhymes (he sings them in the shower??)

you and sylus both love watching them discover each other— like, they’d just forget the other exists for a while until they glance beside them and see their faces staring back. the giggles, the smiles, the eventual spit up— magical

the big twins (kieran and luke) sob when they realize their names are inspired by their own 

"Luke, hold Kyros's neck steady," you advise as you hand him the baby. Luke sits excitedly on the couch, arms out, nodding enthusiastically. it was an amusing little position he was in— he'd cocooned himself between all the throwpillows in the living room and looked like a bird in his nest. "Yes, got it." he says. he's done his research. he and Kieran practiced on cantaloupes while you were away. "Cradle the baby to support his hips and back." Kieran quotes from the LinkiHow, sitting on the other side of the couch, also cocooned in all the pillows. Sylus gave them tired but fond looks. "This is Lucian." Sylus says, placing his son carefully in Kieran's awaiting arms. It takes a minute, but you can always count on them to make a connection. Luke says it jokingly, "Hey, boss man, they both have our initials." You smile unironically. "Do you like it?" Kieran freezes, getting the implication almost immediately. "What?" It snaps into Luke a second later. "What?!" It's very difficult to cry with newborns in their arms. Good thing the pillows minimized the trembling.

never lets you and sylus hear the end of it

"When Lucian climbs on my shoulders, we're a giant robot called Lu-lu." Kieran snorts. "Lemon?" "Can you shut up for once in your life?"

"Boss man, how's mini me?" "Boss hunter, can we borrow the little twins? Namesakes have to bond." and the famous "Hey, dad," one too many times to Sylus. (sylus never corrects them)

steals them away when they’re able to sit up on their own, stays within the base, but at the sight of the masks, the little twins are sent into fits of happy wiggles 

kieran and luke are first to experience the two playing more intricate pretend scenarios (they're big influences)

the little twins’ first prank is to doodle on sylus’s face (sylus was awake, giggling even, but the little twins were 100% sure they got away with it. big twins supervised.)

Lucian the blinding flash of lightning 

pronounced: loo・see・yan

also called “Cian” (see-yan) 

also known as: angel (mama & papa), little boss (big twins), JAWS (kieran when lucian bit him the first time), little dragon (papa) 

has bright, carmine eyes, forever shining with mischief

socialized very early when he refused to be apart from mama or papa 

first word is “mama”. sylus was very excited for you (“papa” followed soon after)

"Say papa." Sylus coaxes, bouncing Lucian on his knee. His boy's bright eyes focused on his mouth, as he made popping noises to emphasize the p's. "P-p-aaa. Papa." Lucian followed the movements with a gummy little smile. But no sound emerged from his mouth. Sylus did everything in his power to make him vocalize, but Lucian's will was stronger than his father's charm. And then you came. Kyros had just gone down for his second nap, and you plop down beside Sylus and Lucian. "It's mama." Sylus points out. And with his full chest, proud and loud, Lucian booms. "Mama!" You scream. Sylus is speechless for a moment but cheers nonetheless. Showers Lucian with kisses and praise. Maybe Kyros will get his p's right.

always strapped on someone’s chest or back in his early days, wriggling in the carrier and testing the bounce

kieran and luke’s test gerbil— uh, sorry, play buddy 

Lucian, having been exposed more to people and positive reinforcement, was quick to gain confidence to try things without fear or even consciousness of failure 

so he flips over first, sits up first, crawls first, has his first steps first and is running by the time kyros can put one foot before the other without support

but he has more little scrapes and bruises from being so active 

loves mama! loves loves loves mama. mama gives him kissies and sweeties. and mama says “yay! Lucian!” in the most beautiful voice 

loves papa too. is a little intimidated by him— only because papa is the first to see his mistakes when he tumbles and falls. papa makes that “tsss” noise when he picks him up. 

but then papa gives warm hugs. and his hair is soft. and papa is tall, and lucian likes sitting on his shoulders. 

lucian loves the sky. you'd "sun" them often when they were little, just sit outside in the shade for the warmth and the nutrients. it was lucian's favorite thing, having developed a Pavlovian response to the words "sun time!" before he even knew what they meant— he'd be wriggling already.

lucian thinks kyros is a little mouse. he adores kyros, always cheers him on like everyone does for him— “ya! go keewo!” 

but kyros looks so small (theyre the same size) 

and lucian is overcome with the responsibility of protecting his brother 

lucian loves hugging kyros (coined the term "squeezy-squeezes"), learning from everyone around him how to treat his brother

sometimes can get a little too rough

made kyros cry once— he cried harder. 

The twins have been in their little playpen for a while, throwing stuffed-balls that jingle at each other as a game of catch. Kyros catches with your help, his back against your belly. Your arms like wings maneuver his to catch the ball in a gentle clap. "Cat!" Lucian says. He's already mastered the act of throwing down to a tee. But somehow a heavier rubber ball had rolled into their soft ball pile, and he'd chucked it at Kyros's nose. "Oh!" you startle first, bending down to see Kyros's face already puckered up in a silent sob. "Oh, darling." Sylus is already at the door at the sound, taking in the scene before him. Your worried fussing, Kyros's reddening nose and... A wailing, louder than the offended's fills the room. Terror-stricken and horrified, Lucian empties his little lungs at the image of his brother sobbing because of him. "Lucian." Sylus sighs, picking him up and rocking him side to side. Mama and papa danced side to side, soothing, as they sang a painful little harmony for them for a while.

absorbs how you and sylus interact. 

⟢ places both palms on papa’s face to look in his eyes — "papa, shmeeties." (sweeties) ⟢ presses his nose to papa’s cheek when he's in his arms and papa is talking to someone else ⟢brushes your hair back from your eyes when you're telling him, "lucian, no more sweeties, okay?" ⟢ kisses your forehead the most ⟢ pokes papa’s lips when he’s idling or reading

likes sweeties (candies, cakes, ice creams, u name it)

loves to climb! loves going up, up high! 

needs that vestibular input when he teeters on the edge of something (effectively giving sylus daily heart attacks)

does not like hats :( 

drags kyros by the hand everywhere (kyros does this too! learns it from lucian)— one time when kyros couldnt quite walk yet, you find lucian dragging him face-planted across the floor. kyros kinda just went with it

started the trend of running up to you or sylus when you get home from missions and throwing himself in your arms

sensitive. doesnt like being scolded but understands to an extent why. sylus is good at explaining discipline to his toddlers.

“papa doesn’t want you to get hurt. so I'm saying it in a strong voice so you listen and remember,” sylus explains firmly. “love lucian? papa?” he asks, snot and tears running down his blotchy red cheeks. sylus softens, huffing the through his nose and wiping his son's tears away with his thumbs. “of course i love you, angel. just, please stop sliding down the bannister.”  oh, sylus is so very tired.

sleeps with his limbs strewn about

sylus is always hit in the eye when they nap together

Kyros the gentle rumble of thunder

pronounced: kee・ ros

also called “kyro” ("kee-ro" as Lucian so lovingly puts it, unable to get that s sound just yet)

also known as: angel (mama & papa), little boss (big twins), KYYYYROSSS (luke, when they lift him over their head like a presentation to the gods), and turtle (papa)

his eyes are a darker shade of red, like a stormy sea of blood. and so his little baby stares are extra O.O when he’s watching everyone around him

kyros was sickly during his first few months, which led to him being a little less socialized compared to his brother

sylus was very doting on kyros, worried immensely, didnt know a wink of sleep for the first three months of thunderous little coughs rattling such a small, fragile body 

he held him more, gave him the medicine, took shifts with you when you forced him to get rest

but kyros pulled through. he’s healthy by the time the third month rolls in, and so he starts rolling, too

kyros watches lucian do his firsts and copies. less trial, less error— the little owl he is

his babbles were quieter, and so you whisper to him hushed words of affirmation 

"ehh? egh ah!" kyros coos, eyes locked onto yours as if actually making conversation at 4 months. "yes, angel, you’re very handsome." you smile back, exaggerated nods, and a lilting voice. "ah-ooo, oo-eeh." "much muuuuch more than papa." you affirm. and suddenly sylus is right behind you. "hm? sorry?"

he does get his p's right!! but first word is “pito” (mephisto -> phisto -> pisto -> ⊹ ࣪ ˖ pito ⊹ ࣪ ˖), his baby monitor

loves papa. oh, sylus really did a number on him by sticking with him during those sick months. now he’s formed an attachment.

most comfortable with papa. likes being held by him, snuggles his messy little hair in the crook of sylus’s neck, mouths gummy little kisses on sylus’s cheeks.

had a phase where he relayed all his thoughts in a whisper to papa. sylus would broadcast it for everyone else to hear. he'd nod in approval with a little "mhm."

loves mama too, of course. loves mama’s voice. mama’s scent. he almost always falls asleep in your presence. never, ever fussy with you. 

has developed very particular sensory needs— preferring deep pressure hugs, dimmer lighting, and more gentle, quieter sounds

he works through most issues, but in his toddler stage, he’s easily spooked and startled— cries often when he is

loves lucian! lucian is eternally amusing to him. his favorite slapstick. lucian, his walking chatty clone— tumbling over and startling him and making him giggle. he loves Lucian.

lucian's hugs! love that!

lucian's games! so fun!

lucian's attempts to string him along (even if he ends up waxing the floor with his forehead)! owwie, but yes!!

kyros feels his feelings deep and slow. disciplining him is like yelling at a baby duck with too-large eyes and a pouty little lip 

it's very hard to stay mad at him (sylus struggles the most)

“kyros? you understand why papa is mad, right?”  kyros doesnt move. doesn't even look at him. sylus swallows.  “kyros, papa is mad because…” kyros starts hiccuping, choking on silent tears. “papa mad.” sylus digs his nails into his palms. “papa... mad because you almost got hurt. got an ouchie.”  kyros nods. “Papa mad. ouchie.”  on second thought, sylus isnt that good at disciplining toddlers. "kyros, say you understand." "un'tad." kyros weeps. "okay." sylus grabs his baby and cradles him to his chest. he peppers kisses into his hair and holds him tight. “no more. all done.”  “all done.” kyros sobs. sylus has to hold his back too.

kyros likes the nighttime, the outdoors. when he was sick, sylus often stood on the balcony and talked to him about the stars. somehow that absorbed. 

kyros thrives in music. you discovered this, when he was fussy one day, and you were tired and aching, and decided to hum a tune into the crown of his head as you rocked him side to side 

he quieted instantly, and you realize the vibrations of your voice have resonated in his skull— effectively calming him by buzzing like a bee

aside from papa, lucian is his next pillar of support. he tends to grasp onto lucian's hand and tug on his shirt when he gets that little bit scared.

likes the kitchen. happy to be in a carrier as you or sylus cooks. he likes the scents and the chop-chop-chop sounds. 

likes hats :) 

the first to bap! lucian when they got into a little argument. big emotions overwhelmed him easily, so when lucian took the stuffie from his hands, his little fist came down on lucian's thigh— it didnt hurt, but they were both told off and both cried 

kyros clung to lucian all day after that — “sowwi, see-yan, sowwi.” 🥺

the big twins still navigate around kyros more cautiously, trying to learn his subtlety, but they get it eventually. kyros reminds them of themselves when they were much smaller, seeking comfort and a safe space. they do everything in their power to provide that for him (and lucian too) 

kyros asks with little words, speech at a slower & steadier rate of development 

"papa home?" "squash! more?" (uses the little more gesture) "pease?" "hug! hug!" "one, two cookie? pease?" (spams the more gesture again)

uses your and sylus’s pet names for each other to address you sometimes

“ma bub (my love), papple juice, pease?” to papa  “peepie (sweetie), up?” to mama “peepart (sweetheart), pease? pease, peepart?” “na-night dadin' (darling)!” to lucian

likes apple juice 🧃💕

is super mesmerized by mephisto, but still gets surprised at his movements— flinches when mephisto shakes, freezes up when mephisto stretches his wings— but is trying to be friends. likes the jingling windchime sound mephisto does when he shakes his feathers.

loves story books. he appreciates whoever reads to him, curling himself around whoever’s arm, chubby little cheek pressed to a bicep as half-lidded eyes follow fingers hovering over words (will eventually learn to read first)

sleeps in this little kitty loaf position, with his fists in his eyes and his body curled in this child’s pose/fetal position 

sylus has to right him in his sleep so he doesnt ache in the morning

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: if youve made it this far, i wish i could give you a big hug. thank you for reading all about the littles. they're full of life & love, and there will be stories where they bring that out of sylus, mama & the big twins too, and i hope you stick around for that <3 ❀-urs

✧˚ ⋆｡ read more with the little twins here | first little twin headcanon | author's pick: little twins & big twins fic | more sylus thoughts ✧˚ ⋆｡

feel free to send in messages/questions/drabble requests about them in my inbox, I'll be happy to gush about them some more hehe ( ⸝⸝•ᴗ•⸝⸝ )੭⁾⁾♡

dividers by @saradika-graphics

thank you for reading!

Whoops!

Anon request! Tysm!

Summary:sending the LADs men a nude then saying 'wrong person'

Warnings: 18+ themes, MDNI.

·˚ ༘Rafayel 🐟

·˚ ༘Zayne ❄️

·˚ ༘Caleb 🍎

·˚ ༘Sylus 🐦‍⬛

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Xavier lies on the couch, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His hoodie is slightly rumpled, one arm dangling off the edge of the cushions.

You approach quietly, drawn by an irresistible urge to feel his warmth. Without hesitation, you slide into the space beside him, immediately seeking the comfort only he can provide.

Xavier stirs, his eyes fluttering open briefly. For a moment, his expression shifts—the corners of his mouth lifting slightly—before his arms instinctively wrap around you.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, voice thick with slumber. “You’re here.”

You press closer, burying your face against the soft fabric of his hoodie, inhaling deeply. His scent envelops you completely—familiar and grounding.

“You’re so warm,” you whisper, feeling the day’s tensions begin to dissolve. “I could stay like this forever.”

Your bodies fit together perfectly, the rise and fall of his chest gradually syncing with your own breathing. The world outside fades away as you focus on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I don’t mind if you do,” he replies quietly, his fingers finding their way to your hair.

His eyes close again, but that subtle smile remains—a sight that makes your heart flutter. Here, in the silence between you, words become unnecessary. When he adjusts his position, it’s only to draw you closer against him.

As consciousness begins to drift away, you tighten your hold slightly, unwilling to let go even in sleep. The last thing you register before falling asleep is Xavier pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his silent way of saying everything words could never quite capture, and his arms securing you against him—steady, reliable, exactly what you needed.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The sight of Zayne seated on the edge of the bed, still in his day clothes but with his collar unbuttoned, sends a wave of longing through you. Your body aches with the need to be held—specifically by him.

“I need fifteen more minutes,” he states without looking up, somehow sensing your presence. “Twenty, at most.”

You retreat to the bedroom, arranging yourself among the pillows, the wait almost unbearable. Every minute crawls by as you imagine the feeling of being gathered against his chest, surrounded by his warmth. The pull toward him is almost physical, a tightening sensation that only his touch can release.

True to his word, exactly fourteen minutes later, the soft pad of slippers against hardwood signals his approach. Relief floods through you at the sound.

He appears in the doorway, and you extend your arms instinctively, the need for his closeness overwhelming all other thoughts.

“You’re early,” you note with grateful surprise.

“Apparently, I can do my tasks faster when I know you’re waiting,” Zayne replies.

The mattress dips as he slides in beside you, and you waste no time pressing yourself against his chest, your arms wrapping around him with desperate need. His body is warm against yours, and you sigh with contentment as his scent surrounds you.

“I’ve been needing this all day,” you confess against his shirt, feeling the tension finally release as his arms encircle you.

Zayne shifts slightly, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers to study your face with the same intensity he gives his most complex cases. Whatever he finds makes him pull you closer, adjusting his position to maximize your comfort.

“Better now,” he murmurs, tightening his arms around you before you feel him press a kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The urge builds throughout the day—a growing, insistent need to feel Rafayel’s arms around you. You find him by the window, humming softly as sunlight bathes his figure. The sight of him—so vibrant and alive—only intensifies your craving for his touch.

“Rafayel,” you call softly, arms already half-raised in anticipation.

The moment he sees you, understanding dawns immediately. He spins toward you with a flourish, meeting your unspoken need without hesitation.

“Perfect timing. I was just thinking of you,” he says as he closes the distance between you in quick strides.

You collide with him halfway, arms wrapping around his waist, face pressed against his chest. The contact sends immediate relief coursing through you—like cool water after a long thirst.

“You smell like the ocean and sunshine,” you mumble against the fabric of his shirt. “I couldn’t resist anymore.”

His arms encircle you completely, lifting you slightly as he backs toward the overstuffed couch in the corner, understanding your need without explanation.

“Then you shall have me,” he declares, falling backward onto the cushions and bringing you down with him in a tangle of limbs. “For as long as you need.”

You settle against him, fingers clutching at his shirt, drawing him closer still. He smells of turpentine and sea salt, of creativity and freedom. Your body relaxes completely for the first time all day, the desperate need that drove you to seek him out finally satisfied in his enthusiastic embrace.

You sigh contentedly, ear pressed against his chest to hear the steady rhythm of his heart. His fingers find their way to your hair, twirling strands around his fingers as your breathing synchronizes with his. Outside, seagulls call to each other, but neither of you makes any move to break the perfect connection.

“Stay just like this,” you whisper. “I don’t want to let go yet.”

His laugh bubbles up in response, the sound vibrating through his chest against your ear. “Then the rest can wait.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The longing strikes without warning—an intense need to be held in Sylus’s arms. Nothing else will satisfy this particular craving; only him.

You make your way to his room, the journey giving you time to acknowledge how completely this need has consumed you. You find him standing by the window, the city sprawled below.

He turns at the sound of your footsteps, one eyebrow lifting slightly as he takes you in.

“Well,” he says, setting down a glass of wine, “this is a pleasant surprise.”

Words feel unnecessary as you approach him, arms already reaching for him, need written plainly across your face. You press yourself against him, inhaling his distinct scent, feeling your pulse steady at the contact.

“Don’t reschedule on my account,” you say, voice slightly muffled against his chest, though you make no move to pull away. “But I couldn’t wait another minute to see you.”

“Simply my company?” he murmurs against your hair, arms encircling you with practiced ease.

There’s something warm in his tone as he guides you to sit, arranging you both so you’re nestled against his chest, exactly as you’d been craving all day. His fingers trace idle patterns along your spine, releasing tension you hadn’t realized you were carrying.

“Tell me,” he says, tilting your chin up, eyes searching yours. “What brought on this sudden need for closeness? Not that I’m complaining.”

The city lights reflect in his eyes, catching on the edges of his features as he studies you with uncharacteristic patience.

You shake your head slightly, unable to articulate the bone-deep longing that drew you here. Words seem inadequate to explain how completely his embrace satisfies something essential within you.

“Just wanted to be close to you,” you answer simply, settling back against him, feeling the rightness of being exactly where you belong.

“Hmm… I wonder what you might demand next.” Yet his arms tighten around you. Outside, the city continues its evening pulse, but here, in this moment, his attention is focused solely on you, as though nothing beyond this room matters.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Caleb tosses his uniform jacket over a chair, his face lighting up the moment he spots you lingering by the bedroom door. In an instant, his professional demeanor melts away completely.

“Caleb,” his name escapes your lips, arms already outstretched.

“There you are,” he says, voice warm with affection as he closes the distance between you in long, eager strides. “Best sight in the entire galaxy.”

His arms are around you before you can respond, lifting you slightly as he spins once, the movement playful despite the strength evident in his embrace. When he sets you down, he doesn’t let go, instead dropping his forehead to rest against yours.

“Please tell me you’re waiting for cuddles,” he breathes, already walking backward toward the bed, guiding you along. “Because after that strategy meeting, I’ve been thinking about holding you for approximately four hours and seventeen minutes.”

Your arms wrap around him eagerly, face pressed against his chest, breathing him in deeply. The contact sends immediate relief flooding through your system, like finding shelter in a storm.

“The entire room feels cold without you,” you confess, clinging to him. “Want cuddles.”

“Then you’re in luck,” he murmurs against your hair, already walking backward toward the bed, keeping you firmly in his embrace. “Because holding you happens to be my specialty.”

The back of his knees hit the mattress and you follow him down eagerly, arranging yourself against his chest, unwilling to allow even an inch of separation. His scent envelops you—warm and comforting.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as he presses a kiss to your temple. Through the view beside the bed, stars streak by in ribbons of light, but his eyes remain fixed on you.

“I could hold you like this forever,” he whispers against your hair, his arms forming a protective circle around you.

In this moment, wrapped in Caleb’s arms, the rest of the universe fades away—leaving only the two of you, connected exactly as you needed to be.

Based on this request.

Wildlight Chronicles ending

inspired by Springtime by Pierre Auguste Cot 1873

Chewy wife

YES

This right here is the hottest thing a man can do

I love this

Tension

Pairing: Danny Rand x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injuries

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: What happens when Iron Fist takes an interest in an undercover agent? (I’m so bad at summaries and Titles please forgive me)

A/N: This has been sitting incompleted in my drafts for like months and I finally got the energy and ideas to finish it. I feel accomplished.

It made sense that you and Danny never crossed paths. You were just a S.H.I.E.L.D agent and he was part of the superhero program. Even though you were similar in age, you didn’t attend the same school and you had no skills in common so you never saw each other during training.

You were born into being a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, growing up on the Helicarrier and training your entire life to be an undercover agent. You spent your days with different names and different personas, gathering intel and you were more skilled using weapons and gadgets than actual hand-to-hand combat, while he was parading around the city in a spandex suit.

You, of course, had heard of him but only by the name Iron Fist, and you had never seen him in person.

And it would have remained that way if you hadn’t gotten shot on your last mission. Even though it missed anything vital and the surgery had been a success, you were still told not to do anything that might agitate it for the next 3 months.

So, that was how you got transferred from the undercover agent assignments to team strategist department.

“But I don’t want to be in strategies!” You complained, stubbornly following Fury around the Helicarrier as he desperately tried to get away from you.

“Strategies is for boring people! Like Coulson!” You shouted ignoring Coulson’s offended ‘Hey!’, practically throwing a tantrum in the middle of the training room.

“And more importantly, you gave my assignment to that bitch, Lia?! I’ve been gathering contacts for that mission for around a year and you want me to just hand it over to that lazy piece of shit who would rub it in my face even if she never did anything for the mission?!”

That finally made Fury turn around to face you and you sighed in relief, hoping he would at least listen to you.

“Agent Coulson, make sure that every time (Y/N) swears, 50 bucks is cut down from this month’s pay check.”

You threw him a foul glare.

“You will be transferred to strategies in a week—”

“But I don’t want to—”

“Under the superhero programme—”

“Those pyjama freaks—?!”

“End. Of. Discussion.”

You glared at him so coldly, it could have frozen hell over. Your nails were digging painfully into the palm of your hand but you barely felt it through your anger.

You practically growled, pulling out a 50-dollar bill from your pocket and slamming it onto Coulson’s desk.

“MOTHER F—”

***

The first time you met a member of the team wasn’t one that you had expected. It was a month and a half into your recovery and you had written numerous mission reports on behalf of them and reset the programming of their training bots after each practice session but you still hadn’t met any of them.

The time you were taking to recover was driving you crazy. It made you feel weak. 2 months ago, you were in Barcelona, undercover as an underaged bartender for a mafia gang and now you were going to physiotherapy every week.

Since you were young and Fury didn’t want to take the change of you permanently injuring yourself, he was being very strict about what you could do, he basically confined you to a desk job for the next 2 months.

It was driving you mad.

So, one day when everyone was asleep, you snuck into the training area to practice shooting which you were sure had gone a little rusty since the accident. Nothing a little practice couldn’t help.

You picked up your favourite gun, smiling at the familiarity in your hand, loading it and clicking the safety off before pointing at the target and shooting.

The next thing you felt was excruciating pain. So painful that you were on the floor, pressing your forehead against the cold metal, wondering why this was happening to you.

The rebound of the gun had been too powerful for your arm to take. You felt your injury pull suddenly and you couldn’t think of anything other than the blinding pain as you cried on the floor. Feeling utterly helpless.

“Hello?”

You started, teary eyes getting wide at the sight of a blonde by the door. You had to wipe your eyes for your vision to focus, grunting in pain as you raised your arms again.

You recognized Iron Fist. You had been seeing footage of him and his team members for the last few weeks and writing mission reports about him but seeing him in person was a different feeling.

You hid your face, pulling your knees to your chest, hoping he would leave.

“I heard a gunshot.”

“Yeah,” Your voice cracked embarrassingly, “That was me.” 

“Everything alright?” He came closer to you, standing a foot away from you and you shook your head no.

In all honesty, you wanted to get off the floor and go back to bed, but your arm burned so painfully you were scared to move it again.

“Here, let me help.”

You froze, but still let him raise his hand towards you. You saw his palm light up before he pressed it to your shoulder and you whimpered, shuffling away from him but he continued to apply a gentle pressure.

Soon you felt the pain get better, it slowly reduced to a dull buzz.

“H-How did you do that?” You asked, turning to him with wide eyes and he chuckled, seeing the childish wonderment. You clearly had never seen him in person before even if he had seen you.

Danny noticed you the day he had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. You were returning from yet another mission and the soft blue dress you were wearing among armoured soldiers was hard to miss when he passed the debriefing room. Immediately, he stopped to peer inside.

The contrast between the soft summer dress and your cold, professional expressions sent a shiver down his spine. You looked so untouchable. However, he noticed the blush on your face when the agents complimented you and felt his heart flutter.

He had seen your road to recovery, he noticed you falling asleep at your desk every day, constantly doing work because you had nothing else to do and he wondered if it would be weird if he asked you to lunch sometime. For your sake, of course.

Looking at you curled up on the ground, he had wished he had done it sooner.

“You shouldn’t strain yourself before you’re ready.” He muttered, feeling tongue tied next to the girl he had been infatuated with from a distance.

You could only nod. This whole-time people had been telling you the same thing and you always retorted with confidence, saying that you were as good as ready to get back on the field. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought they were right.

“I’m Iron Fist.”

“(Y/N).”

“I know.” His answer came a little too fast and had you raising a brow. Danny wished he adorned a mask to cover the whole of his face like Spiderman when he felt his cheeks becoming warm, “You write our mission reports. I’m not creepy, I swear.”

You chuckled airily, turning back to the gun that was left on the ground and you pulled it back into your hand before clicking the safety back on before chucking it across the room.

“Thanks for helping me.” 

“I’m glad I was there to help.”

***

After your first meeting, you found him approaching you more often after training. At first it was just ‘hello’s and ‘goodbyes. Then he began asking about your day and you gave him mundane responses before you were forced to ask him how his day was.

Then he started coming early before his training with a cup of tea for you, though it was sometimes juice, sometimes hot cocoa.

Then he started staying late after training and you would give him a bottle of water and complain about him being sweaty.

It was an unlikely friendship but nonetheless, you got closer as the days passed by and once you did, it didn’t take long for you to meet the rest of the team. They kept you company and you grew fond of the rest of them; however, it wasn’t the same way that you felt with Iron Fist.

Your crush on Iron Fist snuck up on you when you were least expecting it but once you realized it you couldn’t stop yourself from falling hard and deep. Still, you continued to hang out with him, pushing down the butterflies whenever he smiled and stopping yourself from grinning too wide whenever you were around him.

You tried to keep your relationship platonic, not wanting to get caught up in it because it was unprofessional. You didn’t even know his identity and you didn’t want to find out. You were afraid that once he revealed that part of his life to you there was no going back on your love for him.

So, you stayed friends, good friends.

***

“So, it all blew up in her face? Huh, I should say I’m surprised but I’m really not.” You said, sighing when Fury handed you the mission file that you had been working on for a year before handing it off to another agent.

“You get to relieve her of her duties and start working again. Effective as of next week.”

You were grinning now. The doctor had given you the all clear a month ago and you had been waiting for a mission to be handed off to you but it had been a quiet month, with no need for undercover or even recon missions.

To get back the mission that you lost when you got shot seemed like the best one to start off again, and you thought your day couldn’t get any better but it seemed like you were having an incredibly good day.

As soon as you exited the room, there stood Iron Fist in all his glory and your excitement got better of you. You bolted right into his arms, catching him off guard with a hug.

“Woah, did something happen?” He asked curiously but still wrapped his arms around you to return the hug. You pulled away, flashing him the mission file in your hand and grinned brightly.

“I finally got cleared for a mission!”

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you! I’m so excited! I have to go and prepare right away!”

“Wha—Right now?” He asked and you nodded frantically, “I’m off in about a week, lots to prepare before that.”

“Well, how long is it going to take?”

“Not sure, oooh, maybe I’ll get relocated someplace cool like Dubai or India or something.”

He didn’t seem to share your enthusiasm but just chuckled in a dejected sort of manner before nodding his head, “Maybe.”

***

“Partner? Fury, I don’t do partners. I am a single lady and would like to stay that way.”

He just sighed, used to your temper tantrums. Though he was honestly wishing he had a mute button on you. You were like the daughter he never wanted. Usually, he maintained a professional relationship with all the other agents but you were like the gem of the department.

Being one of the youngest and most capable of the agents was a reason for many of the older ones to fawn over you. I mean let’s be honest, a baby who can kick ass was adorable!

That always made you more outrageous than the other agents, letting yourself have the temper tantrums and choosing not to be a stiff, boring agent. You knew just how to push Fury to get what you wanted.

“The mission is to go to a socialite party and while you have the skills, you don’t have the contact.”

“That hasn’t stopped me before—”

“We need someone that has the last name to get you in. Besides, after last time, another agent looking after you wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

Your face fell and Fury knew he made a mistake in choosing his words. Your lip quivered slightly and he heard an agent tut disapprovingly at him and mentally sighed.

“That wasn’t my fault…” You said softly, your voice seemed thick and he knew one wrong move could possibly break the floodgate. He sighed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “I know that. But we just want you to be safe. Just in case something goes wrong again, so this time somebody can have your back.”

You nodded sadly, lips in a small pout and eyebrows furrowed. Somewhere in the background he heard another agent whispering to another that Fury was trying to make you cry and felt his eye twitch.

“No one blames you for what happened.”

You nodded wordlessly again, still frowning.

“Tell you what, because it’s your first mission back, you get a higher budget for it.” That was it. Your face brightened like the sun and you giggled childishly, sending him a mischievous smirk as you thanked him.

You disappeared before he could even scold you and Fury then heard the rest of the agents burst into laughter about how you managed to play him.

Again.

***

“Daniel Rand.” You mumbled, looking over the case file. Apparently, he would be your partner for today but it was odd that you never heard of him before. It took you a very short time going through the S.H.I.E.L.D. database to find his name.

‘Daniel Rand, a.k.a. Iron Fist.’

‘WHAT?!’

Daniel Rand? The blond aristocrat that looked like he was picked out of your wildest dreams. With a face that could break hearts and make knees weak, was the confidant and friend that you had been crushing on for weeks now?

Wow, he definitely had a face to match.

Without realizing, you had been staring at his picture for about 5 minutes, fawning over his sharp jaw and deep green eyes with a ridiculous love-sick smile on your face, with your heart fluttering in your chest.

‘God, please, like me.’ You said in your head. So far you had sort of a flirtationship going on with Iron Fist but you wondered if it was the same for Danny. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would intentionally lead you on, but now that you were seeing his face, you realized just how little you knew about him.

He probably had a life of his own and you took up only a sliver of it. Being an agent, you didn’t leave the Helicarrier very often, and you certainly didn’t have too many very friends. You never really realized how much you were missing until you got shot.

Iron Fist, well Daniel, filled the void you felt during your time off but it was also very possible that he didn’t feel the same way, that you were just someone he spent time with to get over his boredom.

Maybe tonight would be the time to change that.

The mission was supposed to take place today, so you woke up bright and early to finish up some things. Go over case files, do a weapon check and pick out your outfit. You were supposed to wear something that would catch people’s attention. And in the back of your head, you also wanted to blow Daniel’s mind right out of his skull.

Red seemed like it would make a statement. So would a bodycon, or maybe a long dress with a high slit. You wanted to go all out for your first mission in months. Maybe even get a few jaw drops.

Finally deciding on an outfit, you quickly texted Daniel.

‘Wear (F/C).’

***

“This guy is coming right?” You asked, bored. You had been ready for about 15 minutes now, looking like you were dripping diamonds and lounging comfortably in Fury’s seat, with your legs thrown over the armrest.

“He’ll be here any minute now.” Said Coulson, checking his phone.

You rolled your eyes, “Why do I feel like this is one of those movie moments where the girl comes down the stairs and the guy is just staring at her with a jaw drop. Or like when the bride walks down the aisle and the groom bursts into tears.”

You sighed, checking your watch again. 20 minutes.

“For someone making me wait this long, he better be so good looking that it makes me cry.”

“Well, I hope I don’t disappoint.”

The new voice certainly turned a few heads and there stood Daniel Rand. The pictures online really did him no justice. Sure, you didn’t cry, but your eyes definitely didn’t feel worthy to be looking something so pretty in the eye.

Before you could help it, a ‘wow’ slipped past your lips and he blushed, having heard you. Wow, he was cute inside and out. Unfortunately, Coulson had to come in where he wasn’t wanted and suggested a quick briefing which you had to agree to.

In the middle of the briefing, Coulson handed you a ring box and you raised a brow, “I’m a little young for you, don’t you think?”

He let out an irritated sigh but you noticed the tips of his ears turn red from embarrassment, “You’re posing as his fiancé. You need an engagement ring to match.”

“Shouldn’t he be getting on his knee then?” You joked, gaping at the size of the diamond for a second before slipping it on, completely missing the way Danny got redder at your teasing, “Wow, it suits me so well one would think I was made to be a socialite’s fiancé.”

Danny didn’t say anything and you brushed it off, putting him off as the shy but cute bookworm who would come through in a difficult situation. As soon as the thought came to mind, you facepalmed. All it took was one good looking guy to mess up your work habits.

“Well, come on honey, we have a party to get to.” You called out teasingly and handed him the keys to the car before strutting to the garages.

Coulson clapped him on the back with a small smirk on his face, “Good luck, honey.”

***

It didn’t take much effort to meet your contact in the party and you quickly left Danny’s side to discreetly to get any information he could pass to you. You quietly chatted with the contact.

Behind you, you vaguely heard a bunch of girls flock around him, giggling shrilly and trying to flirt with him. You resisted rolling your eyes. You had on an engagement ring but Danny’s finger was still bare and even though he might have announced being taken to them, apparently it was necessary for a ring to show his commitment. Something told you that even if he got it tattooed on his forehead, people would still try to flirt with him.

He just had one of those faces. Those faces that made people lose all reason. I mean, you’re slightly annoyed at the girls that have no moral and are shamelessly throwing themselves at him. But really, can you blame them?

Danny was gorgeous. He looked like a Greek Adonis that was sent down from the heavens to grace your eyes. Honestly, you couldn’t take your eyes off him while the two of you were driving down to the party.

Seeing them get handsy was more irritating than It usually would be. As annoying as it was to see these women through all their morals out the window and try and get a taken man to reciprocate their advances, it was more annoying to see them gawk over the guy you were crushing on.

A part of you wanted to just leave him in the car and not have anybody look at him.

But to keep your crush a secret, you maintained your distance from him, talking to the contact in a mixture of different languages so no one would be able to understand. Once you were done, you opted for getting a drink until you saw the pleading look on his face and almost felt bad.

So, you sauntered over to him, cutting right through the throng of girls, disgusted to see that some of them had wedding rings on, right to Danny’s side, snaking an arm around his waist and placing your hand underneath on his chest, giving him a sweet smile.

The shiny engagement ring on your finger caught their attention and they frowned, reminded that they were allowed to look, but not to touch.

“I hope you didn’t miss me too much.” You said, syrupy sweet and loud enough for the girls to hear before turning to them with a charming smile, “I hope my fiancé wasn’t too short with you girls today, he’s very stressed lately, with the wedding planning and all.”

Their faces fell further when you leaned into him and they could all recognize the possessive glint in your eyes. A look that said, I saw you trying to get your hands on something that was mine, you vultures.

The left you two quickly after that, resorting to go gossip in some corner. You wondered if they were snivelling about you but then realized that you shouldn’t be too cocky.

Instead, you turned your unamused gaze to your ‘fiancé’, pulling away from him with a frown.

“I’m assuming that you haven’t come here to flirt with someone else’s wife.”

“I wasn’t flirting though…” He replied innocently and you pursed your lips, resisting the urge to scowl at him. Instead, you just sighed and turned away from him, keeping an eye on the rest of the guests.

If what you were told is true, then someone is going to attempt an assassination on your contact and it was your job to protect him. However, you were distracted once more when he placed a hand on your waist.

You meant to turn around and ask him what he was doing but his grip was strong and he then pressed his lips to your ear. You froze, neck getting uncomfortably hot.

“At the entrance to the foyer.” He mumbled, looking into the mirror that was facing the entrance. Sure, enough you saw it too, the glint that came from the shadows. Someone was there.

The two of you still managed to stay inconspicuous, pretending like you were a couple in love. You turned to him with a smirk, hand going to your thigh where a gun was holstered.

“What do you say about getting out of here?”

With a hand around your waist, he led you to the other end of the room. Just as you expected, a waiter came up to you, trying to guide you elsewhere and you realized that both exits were covered. Grinning up at him, you asked him where the restroom was, giggling in a way that suggested something and he showed you up to the staircase to a hallway. 

Some of the older couples gave you knowing smiles while some of them passed disgusted glances as you made your way to the bathroom that for some reason had a couch in it. Damn, rich people.

You pulled up a schematic of the house, along with security cameras and looked figured out that each one of the exits were covered. Quickly making a plan with Danny, the two of you were about to exit again when you stopped him

You reached up and raked your fingers through his hair, dishevelling it a little before messing up his collar and slightly untucking his shirt. Taking a step back to admire your handiwork, you stopped for a second.

Something was missing.

It quickly occurred to you and you used your thumb to ruin your lipstick a little before smearing it at the base of his neck, “That should be convincing enough. Don’t you think?”

You didn’t give him a moment to answer, not that he even could, with you so close that he could smell your perfume and the scent made him feel dizzy. You pulled away to mess up your own hair and dress.

“How do I look?”

“Dishevelled.”

“Excellent.”

***

“Mission successful, assassination attempt was unsuccessful, contact is safe and being placed into witness protection, assassinators are in custody for questioning. Report 291220. Agent 290803. Phase Beta successful.” You reported into the com set.

Danny was quiet beside you, choosing to pay attention to the road while you deactivated your gadgets for the night. A quick glance from the corner of your eyes made your heart speed up just a little. He was doing that thing where he drove with just one arm.

“You know…” You started, clicking the safety on your gun, avoiding his eyes, “We don’t have to go back to HQ right now? We can get some dinner or something? In the mood for a veggie burger?”

“Is this meant to be platonic?”

“It’s meant to be a date.” You commented. His jaw tightened slightly and you raised a brow at him, did you really make him so uncomfortable?

“I thought you were in a relationship.”

“What?”

“Iron Fist. You like him, don’t you?”

An amused chuckle left you. Of course. He didn’t know you were aware of his secret. Resisting the urge to laugh at him, you shot him a smirk, leaning against your arm.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Danny’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He didn’t look at you, instead staring at the road with a steely gaze and for a second you wondered if you shouldn’t have pushed him.

“It’s a little hypocritical of you to nag me for not being loyal in a fake engagement and then going behind Iron Fist’s back, don’t you think?”

His voice was tight and he was gritting his teeth as he talked to you. You sighed, not wanting to upset him, “Not when you’re the same person.”

He jerked.

“Woah! Drive straight dude!”

“You knew?”

You snorted, “Pretty much, yeah. And since when are we in a relationship? I don’t remember you ever asking me out?”

His cheeks coloured, embarrassed and he looked away from your gaze, “I was planning to.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You continued in a comfortable silence while he drove. You weren’t really paying attention to where he was driving, choosing to look at him with a small smile. He really was beautiful. Judging by his red ears, he was well aware of your staring.

Eventually, he pulled into a parking space and you were mildly surprised to see he had driven you to a McDonalds. You grinned at him and he returned the smile, getting out of the car to open your door before taking your hand.

“You owe me a date.”

You sent him a soft smile, curling your finger underneath his chin before pulling him in for a gentle kiss. He returned it immediately, slightly pushing you onto the car door and gripping your hips. You pulled away, giggling when you realized some of your lipstick was now staining his.

Chuckling, you leaned up until your lips were brushing against his ear, “Hey genius, you still haven’t asked me out yet.”

Forever Taglist: @simonsbluee

USM Taglist: @imcarolinashannon

Being Danny Rand's queen would include...

Masterlist

Danny Rand x fem!reader

Since this post, I can't stop thinking about marrying Danny Rand and living a peaceful life with him!!!

Warnings: fluff (is that even a warning?)

Inspiration song: Love me like you do by Ellie Goulding

After long years working as superheroes and arduously protecting the world, both of you decided to finally retire and get married.

You wanted to live the rest of your lives as a normal couple before you were too old to do so.

You'd move to Kun Lun and have your marriage there, and you'd be officially named as his queen.

Danny would treat you so right and spoil you so much.

You saw something you like on a store? He's buying it, no questions asked.

Everytime he'd have his king duties to fulfill you'd go with him bc you want to be aware of everything that is happening, Kun Lun is your kingdom too after all.

At least once a year you and the old team meet again, be it on New York or Kun Lun, you always find a way to make this meeting happen.

Kun Lun is a land of peace, so you'd hardly get into a real fight but you'd regularly train together to don't get rusty.

You'd meditate together, have calm walks on the courtyards of the castle, just appreciating the peaceful enviroment the kingdom provides and later you'd watch the sunset together from the balcony of your room.

If you were cold he'd hug you to keep you warm.

Talking about hugs, he loves to hug you in every way possible.

If he's hugging you in the regular way he'll kiss your forehead and lay his chin on top of your head - you can bet you'll stay that way for a long time.

If he's hugging you from the side he'll kiss your cheek or temple - this one is more for farewells.

If he's hugging you from behind he'll trace kisses along your neck and jaw - which normally leads to you going to bed (¬‿¬).

It's in nights like that you'd stay awake 'till late night, still naked and cuddling on your shared bed, talking about anything.

You'd talk about the old days at SHIELD, when you were younger and excited to enter your next fight to once again save the day.

You'd talk about your childhoods, even tho you already shared most of your memories you always still have something to tell, be it a new story or one you already told but never get tired of.

You'd talk about having kids in the future, he doesn't mind if the kid is a boy or a girl bc the only thing that matters to him is that you'll be building this future with him.

He'd caress your face 'till you fall asleep, and he'd watch you sleep, admiring your features, 'till he couldn't fight his own tiredness.

And with a smile on his face he'd finally allow himself to rest, happy that you were the last thing he saw that night and the first he'd see the next day.

𝙲𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚎𝚜

Tags: fluff, cute shit Cove does, ooc cove slightly?

Synopsis: basically, Cove doing things that gets you flustered and fall in love with him deeper

Word Count: 1073

Characters: Cove x GN! Reader

Leaning over and buckling your seatbelt

▸Cove huffs whenever you forget to buckle yourself in. Of course, he’s not upset, in fact he loves leaning over and doing it for you. Totally not using that as a reason to steal a smooch from you. 

▸He also cares about safety; anything can happen, and he doesn’t want to see you hurt. Like what if a helicopter suddenly falls on top of your car? Or what if he breaks too hard and you fly out the window?? 

▸He always makes sure you’re buckled in first before he does so himself and starts the car. Even if you’re in a rush. Safety first! 

▸And he totally doesn’t grumble in displeasure whenever you beat him in buckling your seatbelt first. 

“I wanted to buckle you in… what? I didn’t say anything?”

Zipping up your jacket

▸Whenever you both decide to go out whenever it’s cold, you always toss on a jacket and not zip it up. Cove will and aways zip it up for you, not caring of your whining.

▸He doesn’t want you to get sick! If you do, he won’t be able to kiss you until you feel better and even though he has good patience, he doesn’t want to wait too long. 

▸And once he reaches the maximum level, he just dives in and smothers you in kisses despite your protests, next thing you know, you’re both sick. 

▸But hey! What’s a better time to spend with your partner than being sick together? He doesn’t care if he misses work, he’s happy enough to spend this time with you. 

▸Unfortunately, you can’t be angry with him for too long because look at that face! He’s really sorry but he’ll make it up to you once you both get better. 

“I’m sorry (Name) for not listening... But at least we get to be sick together!” 

Holding your hand before crossing the street

▸Again, a safety thing, but he loves holding your hand and uses this as an excuse to hold yours. And to show off to others that ‘hey look! we’re holding hands so that means we’re dating! so back off!’. Especially in front of the cars you’re walking past, Cove giving the poor drivers a scare from his intense staring.

▸Y'know that one Tik Tok audio clip from Chowder that basically goes like “Hold my hand NOW”. Yeah, that’s Cove, but he would never yell or use force on you to hold his hand. He instead pouts and gives you the puppy look so you can hold his hand.  Which you do because he looks adorable.

▸Always, without missing a beat, always kisses your hand. He loves bringing up your intertwined hands to his lips and plant a kiss, letting his lips linger for a bit before bringing your hands down and swinging them gently, a skip in his step. 

▸The warmth seeping from your palms brings Cove a sense of calmness. Just being near you calms his mind from any negative thoughts that spring up randomly. 

“Oh, we’re about to cross the street, (Name)! Hold my hand before we cross!” 

Tying your shoes

▸Sometimes we leave the house in a rush and forget the most important thing. Tying our shoes! But with our trusty boyfriend, Cove, he always does it for you! He would stop you, kneel down and tap his knee, signaling you to put your foot on it so he could tie your shoes properly. 

▸He always checks if you tie your shoes or not. Cove doesn’t want you to trip and fall for other people. See what I did there?? No? Okay anyway if you do fall for some reason, he’ll be there to sweep you off your feet. 

▸Whenever he finishes tying your shoes, Cove would stand back up and look into your eyes with a shiny smile. You question him and he points at his cheek, blue eyes shining even brighter. 

▸He wants a reward from saving you from any falls you could’ve had in the future! Cove wants a kiss. From you. Either on the lips or cheek, he’s not a picky person. 

“Here, let me tie your shoes for you.”

Always offering you food

▸Even though Cove loves shoving food in his mouth and swallowing it in one go, he never forgets to offer you some. Doesn’t matter if the snack is small and it’s not enough to feed two people, Cove will walk over and ask if you want a bite.

▸If you offer him food, he’ll be floored and open his mouth as you spoon feed him your meal. He’ll be happy with whatever you feed him a tiny crumb, a vegetable he doesn’t like, reluctantly, he’ll eat that.

▸Drinks! Drinks are included in the equation. 

▸Even though Cove wants to sip on the refreshing slurpy, he will make sure you have the first zip without fail. 

▸Cove blushes at the thought of the indirect kiss whenever you put your lips on any of his utensils he eats with. Even though y’all are already dating. He still gets flutters from you. 

“Want a bite, (Name)?”

Forehead goodbye kisses 

▸Whenever you or Cove are running late or have to leave for a few hours, Cove will pull you towards him and plant a kiss on your forehead.

▸Has become a routine for you both to never leave without you receiving Cove’s kiss before heading out to work. Honestly, it’s the best way to start off the day and he hopes that it never changes.

▸But when you’re in a rush, you sometimes forget to receive that kiss and that brings down Cove’s morning. He pouts and waits for you to return so you can pepper your face with kisses to make up for the one you missed in the morning. 

▸You’re sorry but you can’t complain from the kiss onslaught so it’s a win-win

“Oh, you’re leaving right now? Let me kiss your forehead!” 

“I miss you...” texts throughout the day

▸This kinda goes with the ‘goodbye kisses’ 

▸Cove texts you throughout the day that he misses you. He sends one not even a minute of you leaving the house you both lived in. 

▸He’ll send a text saying that he ‘craves to cuddle you’ when you leave to take a shit. 

▸It’s really cute until he starts spamming you while you’re in a meeting, your embarrassed face sputtering out apologies towards your workers. 

“Heyy, i miss u :(“ 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

A/N: Heyy ya'll I got another one for you hehe but I kinda rushed at the end because its late and im tired

Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi!

cove hearing "i love you" for the first time

pairing: cove holden x gn!reader

tags: wholesome fluff, very emotional!cove, happy crying

hearing an “i love you” from you caught cove completely off guard!

the soft tone in your voice, the gentle look in your eyes and that hint of a smile resting on your lips was just too much for the poor boy!

his cheeks gradually get more and more red, until it's the darkest tone of red you've ever seen on his face!

and while cove opens his mouth and tries to reply something, he can't get any words out! it's like his brain short circuited when you said those words to him…

for a few seconds, he's completely frozen, before suddenly, tears begin to roll down his face!

“s-sorry–! sorry, i–” he manages to stutter out, trying to wipe away his tears, as they keep on rolling

cove doesn't understand why he would cry in a moment like this. he's happy! so why is he crying? he doesn't want you to think that he's upset about what you said!

“i-i love you too…!” he eventually manages to get out between tears, his eyes glued to yours, with a firm and loving look in them. “i've loved you like i've never loved anyone before, nor ever will…”

Some old Our life self insert drawings! Such a coincidence Liz and I are both pinays, we're destined to be sisters.

I drew the male protagonist from the visual novel "Aloners (Redux)" that I really like.

This is a great game, I recommend everyone to play it.

Game Author： @sonnet009 @sonnet009games

Game itch.io：https://sonnet009games.itch.io/aloners-redux

boy why are you so gorjus😭😭😕

this one took an annoyingly long time to draw and render. its very obvious doing bgs is NOT my forte

VERY INSPIRED BY THE STEP 3 OFFICIAL ART OF HIM IN THE OCEAN :]!!

HAPPY BDAY ODXNY 07/17 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

and ty for all the odxny fanart since release! The artist ( @saffein-e ) decided to use some of it as a celebration. Here is where you can find those pieces tacked on odxny's wall:

https://x.com/sanfangzhu58831/status/1795085888759697582

https://x.com/sintaabug/status/1792423066032574653

https://x.com/_minthe_draws/status/1792126187160096969

https://x.com/azul_hamlet/media

a redraw from error 143 💗

Bucky Barnes

Honey Girl. by @violentdelightsandviolentends

Pie-eyed over you by @themorningsunshine

Marked what’s mine by @daxisyzz

It’s been calling me by @godmadeaterribleerror

Timeless by @mandoalorian

Hold on by @aquaticmercy

Don’t touch the tech girl by @aquaticmercy

How to impress a 21st century girl by @brunchable

Jackass by @aquaticmercy

First base by @writingunderneathawillow

Let it happen by @flowersforbucky

Marked what’s mine by @daxisyzz

Have we met before ?by @aquaticmercy

Late night shenanigans by @navybrat817

james buchanan ‘bucky’ barnes

masterlist • marvel • 04/20/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs four

one two three five

𑣲 light I @sun-kissy

bucky meets you, his bright, new neighbour, and is instantly endeared

𑣲 bucky hcs I @/sun-kissy

𑣲 people pleaser!reader I @winterarmyy

𑣲 must be fate pt2 pt3 pt4 I @/winterarmyy

Y/N has been crossing paths with this particularly sweet alpha all day long; this must be fate right?

𑣲 sleepy heads I @/winterarmyy

That time when the reader accidentally fell asleep on a stranger’s shoulder in the subway ride home. The stranger in question, however, is none other than the former Winter Soldier, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

𑣲 valley-girl charm I @rainydayathogwarts

In which reader from the 1940s knows just how to play the damsel in distress to get exactly what she wants in the modern age after coming out of the ice.

𑣲 starry eyed I @flowersforbucky

reader gets a special gift from her secret santa

𑣲 alls well that ends well to end up with you I @/flowersforbucky

bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together.

𑣲 no one does it better I @/flowersforbucky

sent on a mission with the man you never intended to fall for, you run into someone from your past who your heart has never been able to fully let go of.

𑣲 love language I @/flowersforbucky

snapshots of your relationship with bucky told through the five love languages.

𑣲 moth to a flame I @/flowersforbucky

bucky is triggered into the winter soldier during a mission and then goes MIA, until he seeks you out in the middle of the night.

𑣲 rule number one I @mrs-elsie-barnes

Bucky is happy to find you still in his bed the morning after the night before, but Steve isn't impressed.

𑣲 never again I deactivated account

natasha likes to touch bucky's dog tags and bucky, well, he just wants to know why his favorite girl isn't talking to him.

𑣲 the other guy I @seventven

pietro proves to y/n that bucky is into her by doing everything in his power to make him jealous

𑣲 voicemails to an unmanned inbox I @pellucid-constellations

When Bucky takes an argument a little too far, you take off. All he wants is for you to come back home. 

𑣲 flashing lights pt2 I @/pellucid-constellations

Bucky’s worst fears come true when he’s called to a scene. If he’s the one with the dangerous job, then why is it your life that’s hanging in the balance?

𑣲 jealous I @/pellucid-constellations

You keep talking about the owner of that new bakery and it’s rubbing Bucky the wrong way.

𑣲 five moments in time I @/pellucid-constellations

All of the moments in which Sergeant Barnes let the nurse on his unit know he’s not gonna stop trying to win her over. Even from beyond the grave.

𑣲 stay still pt 2 I @buckysknifecollection

What if your soulmate was the one person you had hurt the most?

𑣲 dog tags I @/buckysknifecollection

You are a kept prisoner by Hydra, your role is to fix Soldat’s metal arm whenever it gets damaged in a mission. You grow fond of each other and you decide to save him.

𑣲 slipping away I @kashimos-hajime

and now, he’s not your bucky anymore.

𑣲 dr. bee I @malum-forev

Bucky has quite the reputation but all it takes for him to want to change is an hour with an outspoken little Bee.

𑣲 eyes never lie I @/malum-forev

Sam and Bucky try to recruit (Y/N), Bucky's ex and a former Avenger who has left that life behind. But they realize her life has changed completely once they meet a her daughter with striking blue eyes.

𑣲 her weakness I @buckysfaveplum

you’re an enhanced individual with strong abilities and one moral code- you only fight with them when your opponent is also enhanced. during the fight with john walker, that code gets broken when bucky is hurt

𑣲 misery loves company pt2 pt3 pt4 I @shurisneakers

grumpy x grumpy drabbles

𑣲 saturn I @/shurisneakers

you die. bucky tries to bring you back (or) close to a year after you die, bucky's desperation finally finds an answer. but it may not be the one he's hoping for.

𑣲 unsolved I @/shurisneakers

Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

𑣲 by the warmth of the oven I @elixirfromthestars

You are baking cookies for the Avengers holiday party when a certain super solider comes into the kitchen tipsy for the first time...

𑣲 boulevard confessions I @/elixirfromthestars

Being a third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn't your ideal Thursday night fun. However, when they tell you Bucky is tagging along you eagerly decide to join them. That is until a third party makes its presence known.

𑣲 knock you down a peg or two I @navybrat817

Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

𑣲 stood up I @/navybrat817

Bucky asks you out on a date and doesn't show.

𑣲 sugar plums I @blythesarchives

The soldier has an attachment to you.

𑣲 Подарок I @/blythesarchives

You give the soldier a present for Christmas.

𑣲 limbo I @/blythesarchives

Not quite Bucky, not quite Soldat, but all yours.

𑣲 cut your hair I @/blythesarchives

You help Bucky cut his hair.

𑣲 fugitives I @/blythesarchives

While you and Bucky flee from captivity in Berlin, Bucky shows his thanks to you for always being by his side.

𑣲 just as you are I @/blythesarchives

He tries his best for Valentine's Day.

𑣲 some other guy I @espinosaurusrexex

Everything was finished: the buffet was ready with sweet goodies, people were wearing their ugliest Christmas sweaters, and the music spread Christmas spirit wherever it reached. But you were still not enjoying it as much as you should. Something was missing, but what could you have possibly forgotten?

𑣲 when it all falls apart I @bucky-bucket-barnes

The fate of the universe was in your hands. Bucky and you had been sent to retrieve the soul stone, a seemingly simple task. Unbeknownst to you, there was a hefty price to pay for such an exchange. You’re able to return to Earth, but it’s soon apparent part of you was left in Vormir.

𑣲 just one kiss I @sarahwroteathing

Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss?

Love and Deepspace - When a bunch of fictional characters care about you more than your own parents do.

who writes these

Honestly

Unless you hit me in the face with a brick that says “I’m flirting with you,” I’m most likely just gonna think you’re being nice.

haunting the narrative

find me on instagram !

everyone's so leng--- I MEAN LONG

workshopping an issue nobody is having (making gradient maps look nicer)

Pure poetry.

some old stuff, 2023-06→2022-05

(why i can't select them all at once i can only select one by one I'm dying 😭)

Xavier came home ⭐️