Can u PLEASE DO ONE with mc doing the Jessica trend on the twins? IT WOULD BE HILARIOUS 😭
this was so fun to write! we havent seen the babies fight in a while, so i really enjoyed weaving this together ❀(*´◡`*)❀. thanks for sending this innn, @parkuwu21 !! 💕
sylus & his family | sylus x reader
sylus has angels. you birthed him angels. they are, despite having a fiend for a father.
but he has come to the realization that young angels also get very disregulated, and sometimes to lengths he can neither reach nor console.
it is one of those days. nothing has been particularly jarring in the household, all routines have been accomplished and checked off their lists. and yet, lucian has found it acceptable to yank at his brother's hair, and kyros (in kind retaliation) has whipped him with the string of his pull along train.
and in the midst of sobbing— after sylus had hissed at them for hurting one another— he doesn't seem to know how to get them to stop.
"okay..." he gulps, pressing kyros's head to his chest while lucian is lying on the floor, kicking his ribs on the other side. the discomfort comes not from that, but from the fact that they don't seem to be listening. "that's enough now."
"angwi! angwi!" lucian squeaks, kicking mindlessly like an animal. the poor thing doesn't even know it's his papa he's hitting now. "bye-bye, kee-wo! now!"
"lucian!" sylus winces. enduring each unnaturally strong hit. "stop it."
"qui-eet!" kyros begs, hiding his face and gripping sylus's shirt until his knuckles are white. "woosian! ta'tup!"
"kyros!" sylus barks. "don't say that!"
and somehow that seemed to make things worse.
their screams pitch to an ungodly frequency. kyros warms in his arms— the only indication that he’s tapped into his evol and amplified his brother’s and his own’s expressions of grief. the glass frames and window panes begin to tremble.
you walk in, finally, after rushing out of the bath at the prolonged crying and raised voices. you find sylus in a helpless heap of wrinkled brows and angry mouths.
your first move is to drag lucian away from kicking distance. and your next— to sylus's surprise— is taking a lungful and bellowing, "josephine!"
the twins freeze. their screaming halting immediately. now, they hiccup and look around in the silence.
"josephine?!" they flinch. wide eyes search the room for the stranger you're calling for.
"jo, get over here!" and they scramble towards sylus's awaiting arms as you call for her again. spooked now, hackles rising, at the uncertainty of what you are doing.
you try not to giggle at the three of them looking around in confusion. their silhouette resembling a wild, confused, clumped together pokemon.
when you're sure the crying has stopped, you say, "okay, nevermind!"
"who dodepee?" lucian asks. calmer now, and more confused than he was ever angry. "dodepee in house?"
"she's not coming anymore." you tell him and comb back his sweat slicked hair from his forehead. "why were you crying?"
lucian's eyes turn to his feet. so you look at kyros, who is peeking out at you from the notch of sylus's shoulder. "ro, you too. what's going on?"
he sniffles and squeezes his eyes shut. but when he realizes you aren't going to drop the question, he mutters. "woosian noisy."
which triggers the other to defend himself. "kee-wo no play!"
"don't wanna to!"
sylus pulls them away from each other before it can get anymore physical than it has been. while you hiss, "jo—!"
and they shut their mouths.
you take a breath in through your nose, and wonder if you're projecting enough negativity for them to feel your disappointment. whatever you're putting out, sylus doubles it with that scary look on his face.
"papa, what are we going to do with mean little boys?" you sigh.
sylus clicks his tongue. immensely upset by this situation. the twins have fought before, sure, but never to such violent lengths.
lucian and kyros turn to him with wide eyes.
“maybe they should start sleeping in different rooms.” sylus ponders out loud, and the little scream at the thought.
“no, papa!” lucian begs, falling to his knees and clutching onto his shirt. “papa, i sorry!”
“i soowee!” kyros wails too, rubbing his eyes in frustration.
“just a little goodbye.” sylus prompts. your affirming nod makes them spiral.
“no goodbye!” sylus feels the tug on his clothes as lucian gets up and yanks his brother away by the legs and takes him in his arms. “my kee-wo! woomies!”
“kyros can sleep in the big bed, and papa can sleep with you in your bedroom. since you don’t like each other anymore.” you say, hands firmly planted on your hips. they wail.
“no!”
“what should we do then?” sylus demands.
they stare at you for a moment, then their father with pleading eyes. but when neither of you let up, and they remember that there is a scary third stranger you might call upon again, their shoulders sink.
“ah!” it’s kyros who scrambles up and yanks lucian by the hand towards the edge of the playroom. he thunks his head on the wall, shutting his eyes to stand still as a statue— his brother, who realizes his genius, does the same.
“we time out.” kyros calls out, voice crispy and frayed at the edges. “we no fight, nee’more.”
“i love you, kee-wo!” lucian says. reaching to search for his hand in the dark. “you’re my the best brother forever.”
“you too, woosian.” kyros sniffles, clutching on when they link fingers. “i— i no give you to dodepee.”
“mm!” lucian stomps anxiously on his spot. “don’t want dodepee!”
you— have found yourself stifling your giggles into sylus’s chest. he holds you against him and buries his own laughter into your hair.
“say something.” you whisper at him, shoving at his shoulder.
“me? they’re doing just fine on their own.” he chuckles, holding your wrists and watching as your children wriggle and stomp in their time-out bubble.
“how long, mama?” lucian asks, a forlorn tune.
you sigh, and yank sylus towards them. sylus kneels just between them and taps at their heads, neither dare to turn around.
“hitting each other will never solve your problems,” he rubs the softness of kyros’s head and then the squish of lucian’s cheek. “it won’t feel good after, either.”
lucian hiccups a sob and squeezes kyros’s hand tighter.
“we won’t separate you.” you tell them. their shoulders relax in sync. “but if you keep fighting like this, papa and i will have to find a way for neither of you to get hurt.
“and if that means being apart…”
“no…” they whimper.
“… or call josephine…”
sylus gives you a curious look. the twins stomp again. “noo!”
“then we will do what is necessary. do you understand?”
“yes, mama.” they say, nodding and thunking their little heads on the wall. sylus winces at the sound and places his palms between that space.
“okay,” you say, and lift the ban. “all done.”
you have never seen them move faster than they have before finding each other through blurry vision and engulfing each other in a hug. strings of sorries and love yous fill the air. and once they settle, you invite them all for a snack.
sylus cuts up the fruit and you arrange it into a lovely pattern on a large plate to share. the twins are gentle hearted and kind as they color rocket ships on the counter.
“sweetie, who’s josephine?” sylus finally asks. he places the kiwis on the side of your arrangement. they think it subtle, but you notice how the kids tune in too.
your smile is secretive and fond. reminded of the days when you would fight with caleb as children, and your grandmother josephine would whip your hands with hangers or hand you both knives and say “go on, get it over with”. bittersweet memories of a life so long ago, but tenderly cherished as a childhood well spent now.
sylus takes note of your expression and nods to himself, maybe he’ll figure it out later. but for now, he chuckles at you response.
“the scariest woman ever.”
the children will learn of her kindness, of her love and her disciplining. but, perhaps, they will never want to hear of her name again.
Raised in the light and shadow of Lord of the Rings, these babies are very meticulous when it comes to who’s pretending to be who.
And though Sylus would like to believe he is Aragorn— and regularly reminds his twins that that is who he intends to play (they ignore him)— he actually is Gandalf. Why?
“White hair,” is all Kyros spares him, taking the plastic sword away and handing him the very expensive replica of Gandalf’s staff. He wobbles a little at the weight, but manages. “You weezur!”
“You have white hair too, why can you be Frodo?” Sylus frowns, surprised at how irked he is by the rejection. He places the nylon strings of his fake beard on with a sigh.
“Pre-ten, papa,” Kyros tuts. “Jus’pre-ten.”
“I’m here!” You’d announce, walking in with your preferred character of the day. Yesterday it had been Arwen, which they approved thankfully. Today, you wear a white wig in a half-up and hold a plastic bow to your hip. “Guess who!”
Lucian’s frown should be studied. Far too profound to be that of a four year old’s. He’s already shaking his head at you, and handing you a beard. “Samooman.”
“What?!” you shriek. Sylus snorts behind his own beard. “Baby, try again.”
“No, mama, you Samooran.” Kyros agrees without so much as looking at you.
“I’m Legolas.” you pout, taking the beard of shame and placing the nylon strings over your ears too. Sylus is snickering from where he stands and you launch a plastic plunger arrow towards him.
You’re sitting, knees to your chest on the carpet beside a similarly fashioned Sylus when Kieran and Luke come in. You smirk at their casual clothes— dark, dreary—clearly, they will be some orc or balrog or—
“You Leggylas,” Kyros says to Luke, and you grunt. Sylus’s shoulders nudge yours in his disappointment.
He whispers bitterly, “He’s always Legolas.”
Your knee jerks in a little tantrum.
Lucian is digging through the prop chest when Luke strides past everyone, gets on his knees and announces his character. “I want to be Gimli today.”
Your laugh is coated in mockery. Sylus shakes his head with a wincing grin— yeah, right, like he has the right to make demands…
Much to his surprise, and to everyone else’s, he is fashioned in a cloak and a sword. Swarmed suddenly by both littles outfitting him like squires to a knight.
“Amacorn?” Kyros tilts his head at his twin at their work.
