“mommy’s name is mommy!” your daughter exclaims gleefully, deft hands twirling on the string of your hoodie.
you bite back a sigh, patting her head, “no, that’s not mommy’s name.”
a frown makes its way to your daughter’s face, “no! mommy’s name is mommy!” she insists, jutting her lips out in a pout. her hands fall to her lap as she darts her gaze elsewhere when you tell her your actual name.
“now honey, if someone asks what’s my name, you answer with…?” you gently coax, soothing her upset grumbles.
with a defeated expression, your daughter mumbles your name under her breath.
your lips tug into a smile, “good girl. now what’s daddy’s name?”
her somber appearance is replaced by delight, hidden behind a feign scowl, then she bellows, “SYLUS QIN!”
Talking about wedding banner, could u imagine how the lil twins found out their parent wedding photo and sulking cause their papa and mama didn't invite them. I wanna know how they woud react cause I think it will be cute😭 thx uuu have a nice day
ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: oh NOOOO they would be devastated ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)°｡ this got away from me again lmaoo, i hope u enjoy!!
sylus & his family | sylus x reader | light hurt/comfort (littles have big feelings!), fluff fluff, dad!sylus, mom!reader, bigbrother!kieran&luke, itty bitty twins werent invited to the wedding! (•́ ᴖ •̀)
you asked lucian nicely not to climb too high when seeking his sensory need for heights and balancing.
"just the second shelf, and maybe the third if papa is around," you begged, squishing chubby little cheeks in your palms. the request honeyed with a kiss on his nose and a chocolate schmeetie (sweetie).
the primary concern is his safety, of course. so he doesn't get hurt—no matter how badly he believes his little belly is going to help him bounce off the floor like a bubble blobbu pal. "I softy, I bounce, mama!"
you laugh whenever he says it. a laugh that morphs into a sob as you press your nose to his hair and say hopelessly, "that's not how it works, my angel."
and motherhood has always been daunting. the magazines and articles, your friends and relatives always said that the instinct the wisdom will come to you, eventually, and the blessing of always being right and knowing best will develop in time. you didn't know it would develop in the most mysterious of ways.
wailing. there is a wailing in the distance as you haul yourself from the trenches of a dream. body moving before your mind catches up. you rise from the couch in a haze, a headache pinching at your nerves behind your eyes, a strange taste in your post-nap mouth. and through the bleariness, you cannot find your children. "Lucian? Kyros?!"
your feet move, carry you to the sound of crying—whoever's it was, you needed to get to them fast. now.
in your husband's study, there sits a tall bookcase. five columns, endless rows. heaven for a little boy with vestibular needs. the middle column is sparse in material and literature, giving way to sylus's favorite mementos. jewels and small artifacts, weapons, things that looked far too archaic for your liking. fire-hazards, choking-hazards, literal death traps.
it's only natural, the scream you let out, as you find the glass that protects the items from environmental harm, wide open. and not one but both your sons in a circle of trinkets and treasures on the floor, sobbing hysterically.
you call each of their names, falling to your knees as you take them in your embrace. kyros clings to your neck, lucian uses your sweater as a tissue to wipe his nose. "are you hurt? did you fall?"
"mama, mad! mad, mad!" lucian harrumphs loudly, pushing away from your embrace and stomping his feet. your brows knit together. you reach for him despite his protests and examine his arms and legs for any cuts or bruises. while he still tries to pull away, "mad!"
"no yell to mama." kyros pitches in, turning slightly from his embrace and swiping a hand that doesn't quite reach his brother. "no mean!"
"who is yelling at mama?" sylus enters then, walking into the room with quick, long strides at the sight of you all on the floor. he takes in your confusion, how lost you look, the toddler in your arms mediating.
then he zeros in on the fiery twin with puffed cheeks and arms crossed clumsily over his chest. "lucian?"
"mad papa too!" lucian whines, stomping his feet like an angry rabbit.
"woosian, 'top it!" kyros scolds.
"angel, what happened?" you ask, finally having come to your senses. there is no broken glass, the casing was just open. the trinkets on the floor— the veil, a small sampling of stained glass, dried flowers, a tiara, a bow tie, a set of ceremonial rings and—
"where me—woosian?" your son demands, using all his strength to drag the big wedding album out from under sylus's desk and into the light. for you to see, to realize, to know the absolute sin you committed against him. "and kee-ro? you leave!"
sylus snorts. you shoot him an angry glare at how drastic the whole thing truly is. a small problem to you, a monumental betrayal to your little ones.
tak-tak-tak lucian points to his father's face in the blown-up photo. the two-page spread of you and sylus in your ceremonial silks, reminding you of the very day in the cathedral a few years back.
kyros, just as hurt, murmurs. "no ee-bite us? we sleepin'?"
you melt. oh, your sweet boys. wondering why they were left out of such an important looking ceremony. they'd seen it in their storybooks—weddings of royals and knights and creatures, then the happily ever afters. they've raved on and on about wanting to see a white-puffy-cake dress with their own eyes.
and here you all are, standing around a photo of you and their father in the attire. and them having no memory of being there, of being invited. thinking you'd snuck out on a date as they slept and crept back into the house by morning.
oh, your sweet boys.
when lucian is effectively distracted with sylus's playful raspberries and kisses on his face (him personally acting on his cuteness aggression to the bunny-stomps), only then do you gather both of your children out of the study with the wedding album. you settle back on the couch with them, the pictures between you, and explain.
"we haven't met just yet in this picture," you tell them, placing each of their hands on the page. their eyes watch as you trace the outlines of their hands on your wedding photo with a silver marker. "you were both still sleeping somewhere, but we didn't know where. so we couldn't wake you up."
"ah!" kyros giggles as your get a bit of ink on his finger. lucian gasps and forces his hand to stay still. sylus helps him keep his hand sturdy.
"did you and papa find us?" lucian asks. he looks up at you with such hopeful eyes it's impossible not to fall more in love with his wonder. you brush silver-mist hair out of his eyes and nod, "of course we did, angel."
"we'd never stop until we find you," sylus assures him, curling an arm around his middle and nuzzling his temple.
"but—but the 'appy endin'?" kyros pouts. "we missing..."
sylus reaches out to him and squeezes his ink stained hand. his own heart swelling. "we can always have another one, kyros."
"we can?" lucian perks up, turning his head to look at his father.
you laugh, sharing a quick glance with sylus who has already made up his mind. and you wholeheartedly agree. "of course. that one wasn't as happy as it will be now that you're here."
"we ee-biting?" kyros jumps, hands clasped together as if to contain his excitement. sylus's laugh shakes mountains as he tugs onto his sons' cheeks. "yes, you're invited."
the pair cheers, clapping and whooping like they'd won the lottery. in much higher spirits than they were earlier. you continue to flip through the pages of the album. the littles enthusiastically pointing to your face and swooning over how pretty you looked. and then asking papa 'why he smiling 'ike that?'
sylus asking 'like what?" in borderline offense.
kyros laughs. "'ike a tiger." then screams when sylus lunges at him to show him his tiger teeth affectionately.
you watch lucian, whose eyes are soft and fond as he flips through your wedding photos like it's his favorite storybook, trumping any fairytale of oswald octopus in his collection.
and then it comes—the feeling of right, and what's best in that moment. and it's not about proving a point, but recognizing what feels right for your kids, and making decisions with them to arrive at the best possible outcome.
seeing the joy on their faces, you conclude—having them find the album was just right, and having a second wedding just for them is what's best.
you watch as his face brightens at the sillier photos, grins at blurry ones and upside-down ones (thanks, mephisto). but then the light vanishes, dark clouds loom once more on his then sunny face.
you don't get to ask before he's angrily tak-tak-taking on the page. his twin and father's attention turns to him as they halt their little game of chase. you groan at the photo he points at.
luke and kieran, unmasked and grinning from ear to ear in their nice tuxes. arm in arm, photobombing a perfectly romantic photo of you and sylus. but lucian doesn't care about the photo being ruined. It's the fact that—"biggies there too?!"
you wince. you hope brotherhood wisdom has developed in time too as you watch your toddlers drag the heavy album out of the living room to hunt down the convicts in the photo. angry-bunny stomps and all, the big twins are in for it.
✧˚ ⋆｡ read more with the little twins here || more sylus thoughts ✧˚ ⋆｡
♡ ft. Caleb, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus x fem!reader
♡ cw: pregnancy, first ultrasounds, emotional devastation (soft), quiet tears, twin reveal (Sylus), stoic boy meltdowns, chaos disguised as tenderness
♡ a/n: they all swore they’d stay calm. They all lied. You hear the heartbeat, and suddenly the bravest men in the galaxy are on the verge of crying, fainting, or starting a baby-proofing war plan.
Caleb
He tries to be calm.
Really, he does.
You’re holding his hand—well, more like crushing it—and Caleb’s doing his best to be composed. He smiles at the nurse. Makes a dumb joke. Rubs your knuckles.
But the moment that grainy little flicker shows up on the screen?
The moment the room fills with the steady, quick-thudding whump-whump-whump of a heartbeat?
He stops breathing.
The grin drops off his face like it was never there.
His fingers go still.
His eyes are locked on the screen, wide and unblinking.
“That’s… that’s ours?” he whispers.
You nod, voice catching in your throat. “Yeah.”
And then he laughs.
A breathy, broken little sound—half-sob, half-hysterical wonder. Like his whole body can’t decide whether to melt or combust. He turns toward you, eyes shimmering.
“I didn’t—I didn’t think I could feel this much.”
His hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking just beneath your eye. “You’re growing a whole person. Our person. That’s my kid in there. Our kid. I—”
He can’t finish the sentence.
He buries his face in your shoulder and laughs again, shaking a little.
“I’m gonna be a dad,” he says against your skin. “And they’ve already got my whole heart. I’m so screwed.”
You kiss the side of his head. “You’re not screwed.”
He pulls back, smiling through tears.
“No,” he says, looking at the screen again.
“I’m the luckiest bastard in the galaxy.”
Xavier
He’s quiet when the screen lights up.
Not his usual stillness. This is different.
His posture doesn’t shift. His expression barely changes. But you feel it—the way his hand tightens slightly around yours, the way his breath catches just a second too long.
And then the heartbeat comes through.
Whump-whump-whump.
Quick. Strong. Inarguably alive.
Xavier blinks once. His eyes lock on the grainy blur on the screen like he’s calculating a threat.
But there’s no threat.
Just something small. And safe. And yours.
“That sound…” he murmurs, voice low and careful, “is them?”
You nod, not trusting your voice.
He stares a moment longer, then lowers his gaze to your stomach—like he's only just realizing what’s been there this whole time.
“I thought I understood,” he says softly. “What this would be. I thought I was prepared.”
A pause. He shifts in his seat, fingers grazing the edge of the ultrasound photo the nurse just handed him.
“I wasn’t.”
Another silence.
Then, so softly you almost miss it:
“I’ll protect them. Always.”
He says it like a vow. Not dramatic. Not performative. Just fact.
Like this heartbeat rewired him.
You lean your head against his shoulder.
He doesn't speak again. Doesn’t need to.
He just keeps staring at the screen like he’s watching the future take its first breath.
Rafayel
He's already being too much before the machine even starts.
Kissing your hand like you’re royalty. Calling the OB “a vessel of the divine.” Whispering, “Are you ready, my muse?” in your ear like this is a movie premiere.
You roll your eyes. “Rafayel, it’s an ultrasound.”
He leans closer, eyes glowing with mischief. “And what is an ultrasound… if not the first brushstroke of our greatest masterpiece?”
You don’t have time to reply before the screen flares on—and just like that, he goes silent.
Utterly. Completely.
You turn to look at him.
He's frozen. Wide-eyed. One hand over his mouth like he just saw the face of a god.
The heartbeat kicks in.
Whump-whump-whump.
And he loses it.
“Oh,” he whispers, voice breaking on the single syllable. “Oh—look at them. Look.”
You do.
But Rafayel? He’s already gone.
Tears pool at the edges of his lashes—long and unblinking, like he’s terrified that blinking might erase the moment. One escapes down his cheek. He doesn’t wipe it.
He grabs your hand with both of his, reverent. Desperate. “They’re so small,” he breathes. “And they’re ours. You—you made that. In you. I—we—”
He lets out this overwhelmed little laugh-sob that turns into a hiccup halfway through.
Then whispers, “I need to paint this.”
You blink. “Babe. It’s a blur of static and bean-shape.”
“Exactly. It’s pure. Abstract. Untouched by symbolism. It’s raw emotion, darling.”
You stifle a snort. “Are you crying?”
“I am feeling,” he snaps, brushing a tear away dramatically. “Leave me be.”
He presses a kiss to your wrist like he’s grounding himself in reality.
“Promise me something,” he murmurs.
You nod.
“When they’re born... remind me I loved them first. Before I even met them.”
You lean in. Kiss his cheek.
“I think they already know.”
Zayne
Zayne keeps his eyes on the screen the moment it flickers on.
His hand is holding yours, but it’s stiff. Careful. Like he’s trying too hard not to feel anything too early. Trying to stay clinical. Detached. Professional.
Like he’s just here to observe.
Then the sound hits.
Whump-whump-whump.
The heartbeat. Fast. Alive. Steady.
Your baby.
He doesn’t move.
Doesn’t speak.
You glance over, expecting some sarcastic comment. A critique. Something.
But his jaw is tight.
His eyes—sharp, exact, always calculating—are suddenly unreadable. Blank in the way only Zayne can manage.
He doesn’t blink.
Not even once.
“Zayne?” you whisper.
Nothing.
And then—
Quietly.
Like it slips out without permission.
“…It’s real.”
He exhales hard, like he’d been holding his breath without realizing it.
His fingers tighten around yours. Not painfully—but with intensity. Like if he lets go, it might all disappear.
“I’ve seen thousands of heartbeats,” he murmurs. “Monitors. Flatlines. Fibrillations. But this…”
He swallows. Looks down at your hand in his.
“I didn’t know how different it would feel when it’s… ours.”
There’s something cracked open in him now. Something bare.
You watch his throat move as he swallows again, hard.
Then, softer:
“I didn’t think I’d be scared.”
You squeeze his hand. “You don’t have to be perfect.”
He finally turns to you. His eyes are glassy, but he’s holding it in like always. You can see it—the quiet shaking underneath.
“I’m not scared of messing up,” he says. “I’m scared of how much I already love them.”
You lean in, rest your forehead against his.
“They’re going to be okay.”
He closes his eyes.
And lets himself believe it.
Sylus
Sylus is leaning against the wall like this is a business meeting and not the moment his entire future is about to implode.
Arms crossed. Mouth set. Watching the monitor with laser focus, like the image might suddenly sprout a threat he can neutralize.
Your hand is in his, resting on your belly. The gel’s cold. The nurse is smiling. Everything feels calm.
Until—
Whump-whump-whump.
The first heartbeat kicks in.
Sylus doesn’t move.
Then the nurse tilts her head. Frowns slightly. Adjusts the wand.
“Oh,” she says casually, as if she’s not about to detonate a bomb in the room. “There’s another.”
You blink. “Another what?”
She clicks something.
“There are two heartbeats.”
You stare at her. “As in—?”
“Twins,” she says, cheerfully. “You’re having twins.”
You whip your head toward Sylus.
Still frozen. Still unreadable.
Except for the twitch at the corner of his mouth. The subtle roll of his eyes. The very long blink like he’s internally rebooting.
Then, under his breath—just loud enough for you to hear:
“…I’m f*cking surrounded.”
You choke on a laugh. “Babe.”
He doesn’t respond immediately. Just rubs a hand down his face like the weight of responsibility has suddenly tripled.
Finally:
“I agreed to one. One tiny parasite. We had a deal.”
You grin. “Babies don’t do contracts.”
He mutters something about renegotiating with the womb gods before slouching down in the chair beside you, staring at the screen like it personally betrayed him.
The nurse keeps talking—measurements, due dates, baby A and baby B—but he’s not hearing any of it.
He’s calculating. Strategizing. Probably already planning to fortify the nursery.
Then he turns to you. Deadpan. Quiet.
“I’m going to need more weapons.”
You squeeze his hand.
“More diapers, you mean.”
He scowls. You can see the crisis brewing behind his eyes. But he still lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles like it’s instinct.
And then—very softly:
“…They’re gonna be so small.”
You nod. “And they’re yours.”
He leans back. Stares at the ceiling.
“God help me,” he mutters. “I’m gonna love them stupid, aren’t I?”
Young Luke and Kieran AU, Sylus x nonMC!Reader | fem reader, not proofread | 1139 words | Crow Family masterlist
authors note: i think i made sylus a little too weepy in this and it’s rlly cheesy but its so sweet so idc. i almost cried writing this tbh. i hope you love it <3
Silence greeted you the moment you stepped into the base. No six year-olds clinging to your legs. No too-large man pulling you to the couch.
You stepped inside cautiously, breathing a sigh fo relief at the pitter-patter of little feet.
"Mama!" Luke whisper-shouted. "Mama, Mama, we have to be quiet!"
You knelt down, glancing between them. "Why is that, my loves?" you asked softly.
"Papa's 'eeping," Kieran whispered.
Luke nodded solemnly, leaning close to your ear and raising his hand to cover his mouth. "Papa was punching all the bad guys super hard last night so he's extra tired."
Kieran mirrored Luke's pose, leaning in conspiratorially. "Yeah, he was saying, um…" He furrowed his brows for a beat. "'It doesn't matter whose place this is—'"
"'It's time for a new ruler!'" Luke finished, feigning a deep voice.
"You sound almost as scary as me," came a booming, groggy voice.
"Papa!" The twins grinned, running to his feet. He gently patted their heads before glancing up at you.
"I thought you were sleeping," you said.
Sylus's lips just barely curled up. "Let's just say I have a… sixth sense when it comes to you." He beckoned you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist once you got close enough.
"Happy birthday," you murmured, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck.
His arms tightened around you just a fraction. "Did I ever tell you my birthday?" he asked.
"I have two very eager informants," you chuckled.
Luke tugged on your clothes. "Mama, did you bring cake?"
You laughed. "Yes I did, my love, but I think we should let Papa get a little more rest before we eat cake."
Kieran sighed woefully. "Can we at least give him our presents now?" he asked hopefully.
"I'm alright with that," Sylus shrugged.
"Alright," you relented. "Gifts, and then Papa takes a nap."
The twins darted away before you could finish speaking, giggles left in their wake. Sylus raised a brow, tracking them carefully.
"I hate that they had to hear what happened last night," he murmured.
"But at least they're safe," you said.
Sylus nodded. "At least they're safe."
The twins returned quickly, Kieran dragging along a large bag while Luke bounced eagerly beside him.
"Open it, Papa!" he ordered.
"We'll sit on the couch first, yeah?" Sylus chuckled.
Luke and Kieran crawled into his lap as soon as he sat down, tucking themselves into each of his sides. You snapped a quick picture before sitting down next to them.
Sylus pulled the tissue paper out carefully, a warm smile growing as he pulled out a Grumpy Crow plushie.
"It's your very own Mephisto!" Kieran chirped.
Mephisto squawked in protest.
Luke patted his head sympathetically. "Don't worry, Mephie, we're not replacing you."
"You made Mephie to keep us safe," Kieran explained. "So we wanted to give you your very own crow so you'll be safe, too!"
Sylus's breath shuddered for a beat before he pulled both twins in for a tight hug. "Thank you, boys. I'll be extra safe from now on."
They grinned brightly in unison. "We knew it'd protect you, Papa!"
"Now it's time for Mama's gift!" Luke turned to you eagerly.
"Mine won't protect you like Grumpy Crow will," you said slowly as you handed Sylus a small box. "But I hope you like it."
Sylus looked at you curiously before gingerly opening the box, eyes fixating on a silver ring.
"I saw the ruby and thought of you," you said, wringing your hands.
"You thought of me?" Sylus's gaze flickered to you, something vulnerable passing through before that familiar cockiness shone through. "Just can’t get me out of your head, can you, sweetie?"
"No, I can't." You shook your head honestly. "I figure that will look pretty on your hand until I can get you a different kind of ring."
Sylus's ears flushed red, mouth running dry.
Luke and Kieran giggled. "Mama and Papa sittin' in a tree—"
"Don't you want to give Papa the last gift?" you interrupted.
Any mischief in their eyes disappeared as they nodded eagerly.
"The last gift?" Sylus echoed. "Just what do you three have planned?"
"Just look," you said simply, handing him a manila envelope.
Sylus's brows furrowed, hesitating for just a beat. With a deep breath, he opened it, pulling out a collection of papers.
"Certificate of adoption?" he read. "Is this—" His voice caught in his throat.
"We want you to be our Papa for real," Kieran said. "Will you please be our Papa, Papa?"
"Of course, my boys." Tears built along his waterline. "I'll always be your Papa. Always."
He pulled them in close, grateful that either of them mentioned his tears dampening their shirts.
"I thought I wouldn't be able to," he muttered. "Their birth certificates—"
"I pulled a few strings," you answered. "They're not the official certificates they were given at birth, but they're enough."
"Thank you." Sylus's gaze was heavy. "Thank you so much." He pressed kisses to each twin's cheeks. "And thank you, boys, for wanting me to be your Papa." His tears ran freely now. "This is the greatest gift I could have asked for." Sylus took a deep breath. "I'm so proud to have you as my sons."
"I love you, Papa," Kieran said softly.
"Yeah, Papa, I love you," Luke nodded.
"I love you, too." Sylus smiled. "So much. My boys."
You rose to your feet slowly. "Why don't we go take that nap?" you suggested gently.
Sylus stood, one twin in each arm. "Come on, little dove," he nodded you forward. "I'd like the whole family together."
You crawled into bed first, the twins following close behind. Luke curled into your side, a small heater against your stomach. When Sylus climbed in, pulling you into his arms, Kieran collapsed onto his chest, soft snores rising within seconds. Luke followed suit soon after.
"They're more tired than I am," Sylus chuckled.
You stared at him, hair tousled and eyes heavy and tired but full of adoration as he watched the rise and fall of Kieran's chest.
"You're the best thing to happen to those boys, you know," you murmured.
Sylus blinked, doubt painting his features. "I hardly think anyone with my lifestyle can be the best thing for a pair of six year-olds."
"I wouldn't have thought that at first either," you admitted. "But you are. There's no doubt about it. You gave them what they needed… love."
"I rather think it's the other way around." He gently brushed the bangs out of Kieran's eyes. "They deserve everything," he sighed.
You scooted closer. "And you're willing to give it to them."
"Yeah." Sylus swallowed. "I'd give them everything because they looked at me and didn't see a fiend, but a father." His eyes grew watery again. "I owe them everything for that."
summary: being a new mother brings new changes, but having a supporting partner like Sylus definitely helps.
tags: dad!sylus, parenthood, first child, he just wants to be a good dad, feelings of inadequacy, self doubt, postpartum (to be updated)
words count: 1,258k
AO3 🔗 | previous chapter
She looked at herself in the mirror, her hand on her belly just as she used to do when she was still pregnant.
So little time had passed since giving birth, yet she already missed the feeling of having that tiny little being inside her.
Turning around, she saw the baby in her crib next to their bed, asleep in a rare moment of peace.
It had been hard to adapt to such a sudden change in their lives, no matter how beautiful it was.
The first nights had been, all things considered, quiet—the baby slept fairly well, contrary to their expectations.
But from the second week on came the sleepless nights, the feedings every three hours or whenever they heard her cry, the diaper changes, the endless sessions of cuddling and rocking to soothe her.
Even though Sylus had arranged all his auctions, "work" appointments and such, to be able tu support her —sometimes he had to deal with sudden and unexpected events, leaving her alone with the baby at home, not without a heavy dose of guilt.
Those two weeks had brought more changes than just that.
Her gaze returned to her reflection in the mirror.
Because of the lochia, she still couldn’t wear her usual cute underwear, but that was secondary.
Her fingers traced softly over the loosened skin of her now-deflated belly, the fold that covered the waistband of her underwear.
She turned to the side, her eyes following the branching of her stretch marks along her hips and around her stomach, a stark contrast to her usual skin tone, they visible reminders of that life-changing event.
Everything was so different, and while at first, looking in the mirror and caressing her pregnant belly had filled her with a pleasant warmth, now her gaze had changed.
It was almost hard to look at herself—a kind of prosopagnosia that came over her when she saw her body and face in the mirror, unable to recognize herself.
Maybe she wasn’t beautiful anymore. Maybe even Sylus struggled to recognize her now. Maybe he would never feel attracted to this so-different body again. Maybe—
Her train of thought was interrupted by a figure slipping an arm around her waist, resting his chin on top of her head as their eyes met in the mirror’s reflection.
“You’ve been standing in front of that mirror for ten minutes, kitten. Should I be worried?”
She tore her gaze away from her reflection, instinctively covering her abdomen with her hands, as if to hide it from his view.
“It’s nothing. I was just checking that everything was okay.”
“Your red eyes say otherwise.”
“I didn’t sleep much… you’re more used to night schedules than I am. It’s normal, I just need to…get used to it too.”
“You didn’t have them before you walked into the bedroom, if I recall correctly."
She gently removed his hands from her hips, turning as if to leave the room.
“I just need to sleep, maybe I should just take a nap. Don't worry about it."
He stopped her softly, taking her hand without pulling her toward him.
“The bed isn’t that way, sweetie.”
“Sylus, please…”
Her voice cracked slightly as she kept her gaze fixed elsewhere, so he wouldn’t see her expression.
But he didn’t need to see it. By now, he knew her by heart, and from the slightest shift in her tone, he could read exactly what the atmosphere in the room was.
“You’re stunning.”
He said it simply, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.
She paused, biting the inside of her lip to stop the sudden sting in her eyes.
“Sylus, really—”
“You should know by now that I don’t talk nonsense. I’m not the kind of person who throws around empty phrases, no matter the occasion.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I’m a forward person, you know that. And I know you as if you were part of my own soul. So…”
His tone softened, ruby-colored eyes tracing the line of her shoulders, reading the discomfort in her body language.
“…even if you don’t believe me right now, I want you to know that in my eyes, you are exactly that. In any shape, at any moment, whatever your mood. Especially now.”
She sniffed softly, still looking away as her eyes grew wetter against her will. She tilted her head back slightly, as if to force the tears away, trying to steady herself.
“I said I'm fine. I really am. Please don't worry.”
Sylus stepped closer and gently turned her until she was in his arms, lowering her head against his chest, sensing she didn’t want to be seen in her fragile moment.
“It’s okay not to be okay. You’ve just been through months that were beautiful but stressful. Physically, emotionally… I can’t fully understand it, I know that.”
He stroked her hair reassuringly as she tried to swallow her sobs, trembling silently with a knot in her throat.
“On my part, I feel guilty because maybe I’m not doing enough. Maybe I’m not that good at taking care of someone who needs help. And that thought devastates me. Maybe I could do more, but all of this feels overwhelming—even for the head of Onychinus.”
She shook her head at that, lifting her face despite her even redder eyes.
“No. Don’t think that. You’re doing everything you can. I know this is all new for you too. And I know this situation is temporary. It’s just that…”
He rocked her gently in his arms, giving her time to process her emotions, patient as always.
“…everything has changed. I’ve changed. I can’t help thinking about it when I get dressed and see myself in the mirror without clothes. My stomach, the stretch marks, the awkward way I walk because I’m still healing… my dull face, my sleep-deprived eyes… I look at myself and I don’t feel like me.”
Sylus frowned slightly, the sorrow in his expression unmistakable. He gently nuzzled his nose against her temple, a comforting gesture.
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing, sweetie.”
She stayed silent, burying her face in his chest again as a few rebellious tears slipped free, dampening his pristine, perfectly pressed shirt.
“It is. You’re not the one who has to look in the mirror every day and feel like your old image is fading."
“That’s true. I can’t fully understand how you're feeling,” he admitted, still holding her close, one steadying hand on her back.
“However, there’s nothing wrong with change. You taught me that.”
His fingers gently lifted her chin, guiding her gaze to his as he looked at her with a tender smile.
“I don’t even fit into the lingerie you bought me for our anniversary last year,” she protested faintly, looking away again.
Sylus chuckled softly—not to dismiss her concern, quite the opposite.
“Then I’ll just have to buy every set again in every size. So you can keep wearing them through every stage of your recovery… and for any future events.”
“It’s a nice thought, but a credit card doesn’t solve everything.”
With a sigh, he half-closed his eyes for a moment before looking at her intensely, his head slightly tilted.
“If you’re worried about how I see you, like I’ve already told you, there’s nothing that could ever change the way I look at you.”
He took her hand and brought it up, letting her cup his cheek, allowing the warmth of his skin to seep into hers. Turning his head slightly, he pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist, keeping her palm against his face.
“Beauty, external appearance and all that jazz are just trivial matters.”
His red eyes searched hers—two deep rubies filled with love.
“I would recognize your soul anywhere, in whatever form you might take, in any universe. There’s nothing that could ever hide you from me. And that's what matters to me."
“You’re unfair…"
He silenced her with a soft kiss, stopping her from spiraling again into guilt and overthinking.
“Don’t you think the human body is extraordinary?”
He smiled against her lips.
“What do you mean? What does that have to do with anything?”- she replied, her gaze slightly confused and still overwhelmed.
Still holding her, he gently turned her back toward the mirror, keeping his gaze fixed on hers through their reflection.
“Can you believe your body helped create, grow, nourish, protect, and bring a new life into this world?”
He lifted his eyes to meet hers in the mirror, then glanced at her hand resting protectively over her belly.
“Fighting Wanderers, protecting Linkon, risky missions and everything else… important feats, no doubt. But this…”
His fingers brushed her stomach, smiling with affection and reverent admiration.
“…there is nothing in nature more powerful than a mother. The ability to create, grow, and protect new life. Do you think anyone believes a lioness loses her worth once she’s had cubs?”
A sudden small laugh escaped her as she wiped away a tear, a half-smile forming at the comparison.
“Someone’s been watching too many documentaries lately.”
“There’s not much choice at night, sweetie. Besides, they seem to help the little one fall asleep when she’s having her bottle.”
With a smile, he lifted her chin again so their eyes met in the mirror.
“Anyway, any scar, any mark you earned in battle as a Hunter—or anything else—will never compare, in my eyes, to these new ones.”
His long fingers gently traced her stretch marks and soft belly with reverent tenderness.
“And, if you’re still struggling to accept them, I’ll be here to remind you how special they are. For as long as it takes—and longer, if you want. No matter how long it takes, patience is one thing I certainly don’t lack.”
For a moment, it was as if his words cleared the fog in her mind—the haze of exhaustion and negative thoughts that had kept her from fully embracing those irreplaceable moments.
She had just become a mother.
Her body had performed a true miracle—creating and bringing a new life into the world. Her baby girl… their baby girl.
Out of infinite possible combinations, it had been her.
Despite their frantic lives, constantly in danger, in a world that seemed against them, their choice to keep choosing each other, to keep finding each other no matter what, had given birth to a life.
A soul—a new soul that was the sum of both of theirs.
Their gaze shifted to the crib in the corner of the room, where their little one slept peacefully.
Small tufts of hair peeked out from beneath her bonnet, her pacifier moving rhythmically as she perhaps dreamed of being fed. Her tiny fingers occasionally twitched, clumsily opening and closing into little fists. Her vulnerable little body was kept warm in a small red onesie, and beside her stood her first stuffed toy—a small green dinosaur they had won years earlier during an unusual date at claw machines, something she had carefully kept long before their baby arrived.
Their daughter—the shape of their love made real.
That tiny body she had carried inside her for nine months, whispering to her about all the things they would do together, telling her how they couldn’t wait to have her with them, while he tried to sing to her belly, already trying to build a bond.
When she had held her for the first time—so small she had barely seemed real.
When she had seen her resting on Sylus’s chest, watching that powerful man melt instantly at the touch of that tiny creature, her little fingers barely wrapping around one of his.
Her family. Their family.
Her lips curved into a smile as she wiped away a tear.
He was right, it would take time to feel normal again—that was true.
But in that crib, she saw their little world, the new reason for their happiness, and everything finally made sense.
It wouldn’t be easy. The world wasn’t safe.
And yet, for all the tears, sleepless nights, and exhaustion to come, nothing would ever outweigh hearing her first word, seeing her take her first steps,
⤿ cw: MDNI, angst with happy ending, break-up, dad!sylus, eventual smut, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v.
⤿ word count: 7.05k
⤿ synopsis: you once loved each other in secret, clinging to stolen moments and whispered promises, until fear for your safety forced you to walk away and leave that love behind. years later, fate weaves your paths together again through the daughter he never knew, challenging you and sylus to face the past and decide whether a love once lost can still be reborn.
ao3.
They tried. They really did try to make their relationship work.
Despite the whispers and words of caution from her friends, She paid them no mind. Deep within her heart, she knew what she wanted—and it was him, Sylus. He was the leader of Onychinus, an organization in N109 that he himself had built through illegal dealings and modified Protocores. That alone was enough for her friends and coworkers to warn her against getting involved with him. But she knew her heart, and it only beat for him.
As far as she could remember, it all began when he first visited the café where she worked as a barista. Soon, his visits became more frequent, and with each one came small moments that drew them closer—his daily coffee always accompanied by a note scrawled on the cup. Before long, he was taking her out on late-night drives across the city, and their connection deepened into something undeniable. Eventually, they became lovers, often finding themselves lost in each other’s arms long into the night.
At first, their relationship was kept a secret, hidden from the world to keep her safe from the dangers that came with Sylus’s line of work. She respected that decision, fully understanding his intentions and the risks he bore. What mattered most to her was the quiet certainty of his presence—the way his gaze softened when it fell upon her, the gentle warmth of his touch, the unspoken promises between them.
As time passed, their secret meetings became moments of pure bliss—stolen hours wrapped in laughter, soft kisses, and whispered dreams of a life beyond the chaos surrounding them. What was once a secret born of necessity slowly transformed into something deeper, something sacred. Their love became an unspoken oath—bound not by words, but by trust, devotion, and the fierce longing that tied their souls together.
However, they say that everything must come to an end— and neither she nor Sylus could have ever expected that their relationship would soon face its own.
The last day they spent together was still as clear as a day as she remembered, the intense downpour of the rain accompanied by the harsh roars of the thunder in the night sky seems to sympathize with their current situation.
“I told you Sylus, I..I don’t want this anymore.” She murmured softly, her hands clenched tightly on her thighs as she watched him pace in front of her. His brows were furrowed, his hands buried deep in his pockets. Then, his gaze met hers.
Her breath caught, eyes widening the moment she saw his—those crimson eyes that once overflowed with love now clouded with sorrow. The warmth that used to light them had dimmed, replaced by a sadness so deep it seemed to drown everything it touched.
“[Name], please…”
His voice trembled as he knelt before her, his hands gently covering hers, thumbs brushing over her knuckles as if memorizing the warmth of her touch. When she finally looked at him, her heart nearly shattered—the sight of his tear-streaked face almost broke her resolve. For a fleeting moment, she wanted nothing more than to reach out, wipe his tears, press her lips to his cheeks, and take back every word she’d said. But she knew she couldn’t. Not this time. Not when safety had to come before love.
Biting back a sob, she shook her head and turned her gaze away from him.
“My decision is final, Sylus. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Her pulse hammered in her chest as he stayed still, saying nothing—just watching her with eyes that seemed to bleed sorrow. Then, at last, his voice came, quiet and breaking.
“If that’s what you wish… then I’ll respect it.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her hand. “I love you, [Name].”
A single tear fell onto her skin—warm, heavy, and final.
He wanted to beg her to stay, to promise that he could make things right, that he could keep her safe and still keep her close. But even as his heart screamed to hold on, he knew love meant more than possession. He couldn’t let her feel trapped in something that was supposed to set her free. So he swallowed the ache, choosing her peace over his desire to keep her.
Even if it tore him apart.
***
The morning air was filled with the comforting scent of freshly made pancakes, melted butter, and steaming cups of hot chocolate. Laughter echoed softly through the living room—sweet, innocent giggles from four-year-old Selene, their daughter. She was the perfect reflection of her father, with those bright crimson eyes and soft silver hair that gleamed beneath the morning light.
She watched her little girl twirl in her oversized pajamas, humming to herself as she tried to balance a strawberry on her fork. Her heart ached with affection—Selene was her everything, her reason to keep moving forward. Yet, sometimes, when she caught her daughter smiling a certain way, or when the sunlight caught that silver hair just right, an old ache stirred inside her chest. It was a reminder of the man whose eyes she could never forget.
“Mama, are there candies and ice creams?” Selene asked, voice bright and hopeful as she began braiding Selene’s silky hair.
“Mhmm,” She hummed softly, smiling despite the twist in her heart. “And your Auntie Isla will be there to join us too!”
She pressed a kiss to Selene’s cheek, earning a delighted giggle from the little girl. For a brief moment, the world felt simple again—just laughter, sunlight, and love.
But as her gaze lingered on her daughter’s crimson eyes, a whisper of fear flickered in the back of her mind. She pushed it away, forcing herself to focus on the day ahead.
***
The afternoon sun bathed the park in a gentle golden glow. Children’s laughter mingled with the rustle of leaves and the faint jingling of an ice cream cart. Selene ran ahead, her tiny boots thudding against the path as she and Isla followed behind, chatting and laughing softly.
“Mama! Auntie and I are playing hide and seek,” Selene whispered as she ran up to her mother, who sat on a nearby bench watching them fondly. Her crimson eyes sparkled with excitement. “Don’t tell Auntie where I am, okay?”
She chuckled, brushing a stray lock of silver hair from her daughter’s face. “Alright, sweetheart—just don’t go too far, okay?” she said, pressing a gentle kiss to Selene’s cheek.
Giggling, Selene darted off and crouched behind a row of bushes not too far from where her mother sat. A few moments later, Isla’s voice rang out from behind a tree, finishing her countdown.
“Ready or not, here I come!”
She smiled as she watched her best friend begin the playful search. For a fleeting moment, everything felt perfect—peaceful. She leaned back against the bench, letting herself breathe in the sweetness of the afternoon. The laughter, the sunlight, the scent of flowers carried by the breeze—it all felt safe.
But in the next instant, her heart dropped.
“Hey, [Name]?” Isla called, emerging from behind a slide, her expression shifting from amusement to concern. “I… I can’t find her.”
She blinked, the smile fading from her face. “What do you mean you can’t find her? She was just here.”
Her gaze darted toward the bushes where Selene had been hiding—empty. No little giggles, no tiny boots peeking out from behind the leaves.
“Selene?” she called, her voice trembling. Panic surged in her chest as she rose from the bench, eyes scanning the crowded park. “Selene!”
She called again, louder this time—desperation breaking through every syllable as the sound of children’s laughter suddenly felt too distant, too far away.
Meanwhile, Selene had wandered farther than she realized, chasing a butterfly that sparkled in the sunlight. When she finally stopped, she looked around—no Mama, no Auntie. Her lip trembled, eyes glistening. She turned to run back but bumped straight into someone.
A tall man steadied her, blinking in surprise. His crimson eyes softened at the sight of the little girl clutching her stuffed toy.
“Hey, careful there,” he said gently, crouching to her level.
Selene looked up, curious rather than afraid. “Sorry, Mister…” she mumbled, her voice small.
He smiled faintly, unaware of the strange tug in his chest—the feeling of something familiar, something he couldn’t name. And as their eyes met—crimson to crimson—neither of them knew that fate had just begun to pull its cruel strings once again.
“You seem troubled. Are you alright?” he asked softly, his tone careful, almost hesitant—afraid that the smallest shift in his voice might scare the little girl in front of him.
Selene looked up, her wide crimson eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “I can’t find my Mama and Auntie,” she whispered, clutching her plushie tightly against her chest.
Sylus crouched down to her level, offering a faint, reassuring smile. “Hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re safe now,” he murmured gently. “We’ll find them together, alright?”
She nodded slowly, her small fingers still trembling. There was something about her that made his chest tighten—a familiarity he couldn’t quite explain. Her voice, her eyes… even the way she pouted looked achingly familiar.
To distract her, he glanced around and noticed a small ice cream cart nearby. “How about this,” he said, pointing toward it, “let’s get you some ice cream first. I’ll help you look for your Mama after, promise.”
Selene’s expression softened, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Really?”
“Really,” he said with a smile that almost felt foreign to him now. “What flavor do you want?”
“Chocolate!” she beamed, her earlier fear melting away.
He bought her a cone—one scoop of chocolate with tiny sprinkles on top—and watched as she took her first happy lick. Her giggles filled the air again, light and bright, and for a brief moment, he found himself smiling for real.
They strolled along the path afterward, Selene chatting innocently about her toys and the park. Sylus listened quietly, nodding, his gaze soft yet distant. Something about her warmth stirred something deep in him—a memory, a ghost, a name he hadn’t spoken in years.
Then, as they rounded a bend, Selene suddenly gasped. “Mama!”
She sprinted forward, waving her small hand. She and Isla came into view—faces pale with panic that quickly turned into tearful relief. She dropped to her knees, scooping Selene into her arms, holding her so tightly that the little girl let out a soft squeak.
“Selene! Oh, thank God—where were you?” Her voice broke, trembling between fear and relief.
Selene blinked, confused but smiling. “I was with a nice man, Mama! He helped me and bought me ice cream and he also have pretty red eyes and silver hair like Selene!” she said proudly, pointing toward the direction where Sylus had been standing.
But when she followed her daughter’s finger—there was no one there. The space beneath the tree was empty, as though he’d vanished into the wind.
Her heart stopped. She didn’t need to see him to know.
She knew. It could only be him.
***
The familiar scent of roasted coffee beans filled the air as morning light filtered through the café windows. It was another slow day, the quiet hum of customers blending with the soft music playing overhead. She wiped the counter absentmindedly, trying to focus on the present—the safety of her routine.
Then, the bell above the door chimed.
She didn’t look up at first. “Welcome in, I’ll be right with—”
Her voice faltered the moment her gaze lifted.
He stood there—tall, composed, and heartbreakingly familiar. The same crimson eyes that once looked at her with so much love now met hers across the room, filled with a thousand unsaid words.
Sylus.
Her pulse quickened. “What are you doing here, Sylus?” she whispered, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay composed. “How did you even find me?”
He didn’t answer right away. His crimson eyes held hers with a weight that made her chest tighten. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and deliberate.
“I wasn’t looking for you,” he said softly. “At least… not at first. I’ve been staying in the district for some business. I didn’t know you were here until—” His breath hitched slightly. “—until I saw her.”
She froze, her throat tightening. “You mean Selene…”
He nodded slowly, his jaw clenching. “The little girl at the park.” He took a hesitant step forward. “She’s mine, isn’t she?”
The words hit her like a blade. Her eyes flicked toward the tables around them—customers sipping coffee, unaware of the storm about to break. She swallowed hard, lowering her voice.
“Not here,” she murmured, glancing toward the back. “Come with me.”
She led him past the counter and through the narrow hallway into the small storage room behind the café. The faint scent of roasted beans and vanilla syrup hung in the air. As soon as the door shut behind them, the tension became unbearable.
Sylus stood there, searching her face with quiet desperation. “Please, [Name]. I just need to know the truth.”
Her hands shook slightly as she met his gaze. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “She’s yours.”
For a moment, he said nothing—just stood there, staring at her as the truth sank in. His breath trembled, his crimson eyes glimmering with something between awe and anguish.
The world seemed to stop for him. His breath hitched, his crimson eyes widening as his composure broke. “Mine…” he repeated softly, as if the word itself was fragile. “All this time… you kept her from me?”
Tears welled in her eyes, her voice cracking. “You don’t understand, Sylus. I had to. I had to keep her safe. Your world—it’s dangerous. I couldn’t let her grow up in the middle of it. I couldn’t let her live in fear.”
He shook his head slowly, his voice breaking into a quiet plea. “I would’ve protected you. I would’ve protected her.”
“And what would that have cost?” She snapped, her voice trembling between love and fear. “More blood? More people coming after you? After us? I won’t let our daughter be caught in that, Sylus. I won’t.”
He fell silent, the weight of her words crushing whatever argument he had left. His shoulders slumped as he looked down, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I just… want to see her,” he said. “Just once more. I need to.”
Her chest ached at the desperation in his tone, at the man who once held her as if she was his whole world now standing broken before her.
“You know I can’t let that happen,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “If anyone from your side sees her, even hears about her, she’ll be in danger. You will be too. I can’t risk it, Sylus. I won’t risk her.”
Sylus pressed his lips together, his jaw tight. “Then let me see her from afar,” he murmured. “You don’t even have to tell her who I am. I just… I need to know she’s real. That she’s happy.”
Her heart twisted painfully. She looked at him for a long moment, seeing the man she once loved—the same man whose world had nearly destroyed them both.
“Let me think about it,” she finally whispered, tears blurring her vision.
Sylus nodded once, slow and defeated, though a faint, broken smile tugged at his lips. “That’s all I ask.”
***
The living room was bathed in a soft golden glow from the lamp on the corner table. The faint hum of the television played in the background—Selene’s favorite animated movie queued and ready to start. She sat cross-legged on the couch, papers and documents spread across the coffee table before her. She was so absorbed in sorting through them that she didn’t notice her daughter’s gaze—wide, thoughtful, and filled with unspoken questions.
It wasn’t until she heard that small, hesitant voice that the walls around her heart began to crack.
“Mama? Do I have a dada?”
The sound of it froze her in place. She looked up, meeting Selene’s curious crimson eyes—those same eyes that reminded her too much of him. Her little girl’s voice trembled with innocent wonder, tinged by a sadness that she wasn’t prepared to face.
“Because… kids at daycare have their own daddy,” Selene continued softly, her lower lip jutting out into a pout, “but Selene doesn’t have any.”
She inhaled deeply, her heart tightening as she set the papers aside. She’d always known this day would come. No matter how carefully she avoided the subject, Selene’s questions were inevitable. And as much as she wanted to protect her, her daughter deserved to know the truth.
“Come here, baby,” She murmured gently, patting her lap.
Selene shuffled closer, her tiny feet padding softly across the carpet. She lifted Selene on her lap, wrapping her arms around her little body and pressing a kiss to her silver hair. For a long moment, she simply brushed her fingers through Selene’s locks, gathering the courage to speak.
“Yes, my love,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You do have a dada.”
Selene’s eyes widened, surprise and excitement flickering in them like starlight.
“I do?!” she gasped. “When can I meet my dada?”
She smiled faintly, though her heart ached. “Sweetheart… you already met your dada,” she said carefully. “Remember the nice man who helped you at the park when you got lost?”
Selene blinked, thinking. “The man with silver hair and red eyes?”
“That’s right.” Her voice trembled as she nodded. “That’s your dada. That’s why you and he look so much alike.”
Selene’s small hands fidgeted with the edge of her blanket. “But… dada doesn’t know about me?” she asked quietly. “Does dada not want me?”
The question pierced straight through her chest. She cupped Selene’s cheeks and shook her head quickly, her own eyes glistening.
“Oh, baby… no,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “It’s not that dada doesn’t want you. He loves you—more than you could ever imagine. Mama just needed some time before telling him about you. I wanted everything to be right, so that when you meet him again, it would be special.”
Selene tilted her head, her brow furrowing in confusion. “So… he’s a good dada?”
A soft, bittersweet smile curved her lips. “He is,” she said, her voice tender. “He’s brave, gentle, and he has the kindest heart. And if things were a little different, he would’ve been here with us every day.”
Selene thought for a moment, then rested her head against her mother’s chest. “I miss him,” she mumbled quietly, even though she barely knew him.
Her breath caught, her arms tightening around her little girl. “I know, my love,” she whispered into her daughter’s hair. “Mama misses him too.”
As she embraced their daughter’s figure, she knew that maybe it’s time for Selene to finally get to know her dada.
***
At first, she thought Selene and Sylus’s first meeting would be awkward—perhaps filled with hesitation or quiet stares. She worried that Selene might shy away or find it difficult to adjust to having a father she’d only heard about in stories.
But to her surprise, the moment they met, everything fell into place.
Selene ran up to him with those same bright crimson eyes that mirrored his own, and without an ounce of hesitation, she smiled and said, “I’m happy that you’re my dada.”
The words caught both her and Sylus off guard. Sylus froze for a heartbeat, then knelt down, his expression softening as a warmth he thought he had long lost slowly found its way back into his chest. In that single moment, the world seemed quieter — just the sound of his daughter’s laughter and [Name]’s breath catching in the background.
From then on, weekends became sacred. Every week, it was scheduled for Sylus to take Selene out—to the park, the ice cream shop, or wherever her little heart wished to go. She had protested at first, knowing how busy Sylus could be, especially during weekends. But he simply smiled and told her, “I’ll always make time for her. No matter what.”
And he did.
Sometimes, Sylus would ask her to come along—to join them for lunch, or watch Selene feed the ducks by the pond—but she always gave him the same answer.
“This is Selene’s time with you,” she would say softly, avoiding his gaze. “Everything about this is for her.”
Still, every time Sylus looked at her—really looked at her. She could feel that silent longing in his eyes. The same one that once made her fall in love with him in the first place.
It went on for months—those stolen glances, quiet smiles, and the subtle brush of fingers that sent shivers down her spine. She would be lying to herself if she said that all the growing tension between her and Sylus went unnoticed. Hell, even Sylus himself was struggling to contain it. Every time their eyes met or her laughter slipped past her lips, he felt that familiar pull. But he kept his distance because the last thing he ever wanted was to make her feel cornered. Her comfort, after all, would always be his top priority.
Then one sunny Saturday, Selene managed to persuade her mother to come along with them to the amusement park. And so here they were, just like any ordinary family—Selene in the middle, her tiny hands clutching both of theirs as they walked through the lively park.
The air was filled with the sweet scent of cotton candy and popcorn, the laughter of children echoing around them. Sylus bought Selene a pink headband with bunny ears, a matching red one for himself, and after much convincing, a purple one for her.
“Mama, you look so pretty!” Selene chirped, clapping her hands as she shyly adjusted the headband. Sylus couldn’t help but chuckle, his gaze soft as he watched them.
“She always does,” he murmured, earning a flustered look from [Name] before she quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the carousel ahead.
They rode the Ferris wheel next—Selene pressed against the glass, pointing excitedly at the tiny people below while [Name] and Sylus sat across from each other. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of rose and gold, and in that quiet space above the world, the tension between them seemed to hum louder than ever.
Sylus’s hand brushed against hers again—accidentally, or maybe not—and this time, she didn’t pull away.
Later, Selene tugged them toward the cotton candy stand, insisting they share one giant swirl of pink sugar. Her cheeks were sticky with sweetness, her giggles contagious, and for the first time in years, she felt something she thought she had buried long ago—peace.
They took pictures in the photo booth afterward—Selene making silly faces in every frame, Sylus smiling genuinely, and she was caught between laughter and nostalgia. When they looked at the printed photos, all three of them were laughing, shoulders touching, eyes glowing under the bright carnival lights. But in that one perfect shot, the middle frame of the strip, Sylus’s gaze wasn’t on the camera—it was on her. His expression soft, almost reverent, as if he were memorizing her all over again.
Her breath hitched when she noticed it. For a second, she couldn’t look away.
And in that fleeting moment, it almost felt like they were whole again—like time hadn’t taken anything from them at all.
***
When nighttime came, Sylus entered [Name]’s apartment with a sleeping Selene nestled safely in his arms. She quietly shut the door behind them, her movements careful not to wake their daughter. She set their bags down on the coffee table and walked toward him, her gaze softening at the sight of them together.
“You can place her on the couch for a while,” she murmured as she brushed a few stray strands of hair from Selene’s face. “I’ll get some of her clothes upstairs and prepare some lukewarm water and a towel to wipe her down. I don’t want to disturb her sleep too much.”
“It’s alright,” Sylus replied softly, his voice low and tender. “I’ll keep her in my arms for a bit.”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her lips curving into a faint smile before she went upstairs.
As he sat on the couch, Sylus gently tapped Selene’s back, the rhythm calm and steady. His gaze wandered around her apartment—warmly lit, filled with soft hues and little touches that reminded him of her gentleness. Then something on the shelf caught his eye: a small brooch. The one he’d given her years ago.
For a moment, his breath hitched. She’d kept it. Displayed it, even.
And though they had gone their separate ways, seeing it there sent a quiet, hopeful ache through his chest.
A few minutes later, she returned with a small basin of water and clean clothes in her arms. “Here,” she whispered, setting them down on the coffee table. “Let me help.”
Together, they carefully wiped Selene’s hands and face, changing her into soft pajamas. Sylus’s large hands moved with surprising gentleness, and she couldn’t help but notice the way he looked at their daughter—with tenderness, with awe, as if holding something sacred.
When they finished, Sylus scooped Selene up once more and carried her upstairs. She followed closely behind, watching as he laid their daughter onto the small bed filled with plush toys. He pulled the blanket up to her chest and brushed her hair aside before pressing a light kiss to her forehead.
She felt her heart tighten at the sight—so tender, so natural. She leaned down and placed her own kiss on Selene’s forehead before whispering, “Goodnight, my love.”
They lingered for a moment, standing quietly by the bedside, the room filled with nothing but the soft rhythm of Selene’s breathing. Then, she gently tugged at Sylus’s sleeve.
“Come,” she said softly. “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll brew us some tea.”
Sylus nodded, his gaze still lingering on their daughter before he followed her down the stairs. The faint clinking of teacups soon filled the silence, blending with the warmth that seemed to settle between them.
As she placed their cups on the table before sitting next to him, she spoke softly, her voice almost hesitant. “You know… you’re free to stay for the night. Plus, Selene would love to see you here in the morning when she wakes up.”
Sylus blinked, a little caught off guard. His gaze drifted from the steaming cup of tea to her face, searching for any trace of uncertainty — but all he found was quiet sincerity.
“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice low and careful.
She nodded, her fingers brushing against the rim of her cup. “You’ve been spending so much time with her lately,” she murmured. “It wouldn’t feel right for you to just… leave tonight.”
A smile tugged his lips as he sipped in his cup. “She’s wonderful, like a pocket full of sunshine everywhere I go.” He spoke then their eyes met, she smiled at his words before averting her gaze.
“She is,” she murmured, her gaze softening as she stared into her cup. “I’m actually glad that she’s able to meet you. I know it was partly my fault for keeping her a secret from you… but seeing how happy she is whenever you’re around—it makes my heart full. And it makes me regret not telling you about her sooner.” Her voice trembled at the end, fragile yet honest.
Sylus’s brows furrowed slightly, surprise flickering across his features. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and placed his hand gently over hers. His touch was warm, grounding.
“There’s no need to be sorry, [Name],” he said softly, his thumb brushing the back of her hand in slow, soothing circles. “I understand your decision. You did what you thought was right. You wanted her safe—any parent would.”
“I know,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “But she’s still your daughter… and you’re her father.” She turned a little more toward him, her knees brushing his, her eyes glimmering in the soft light. “You deserve to know her, to be there for her in ways I couldn’t give you before.”
Sylus’s breath hitched, his hand tightening just a little over hers. “[Name],” he murmured, her name leaving his lips like a prayer. “You’ve done everything right. You raised her into someone bright and kind. I’m just… grateful to finally be part of her world.”
Her lips parted, as if to speak, but no words came out. The look in his eyes—so full of warmth and unspoken longing—left her heart in disarray.
“I only ever wanted what’s best for her,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Even if it meant keeping my distance from you.”
He exhaled slowly, his thumb tracing small, absentminded circles on her skin. “And yet,” he said, his tone low, “here we are again… sharing tea in the quiet, talking about our little girl like we used to dream about.”
Her chest tightened at that. The memory of those dreams—of laughter, of warmth, of love—hung in the air between them, too fragile to touch yet too powerful to ignore.
“Do you think things would’ve been different if we didn’t… uhm… if I didn’t end our relationship before?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, as if afraid the answer itself might hurt to hear.
Sylus looked at her for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking into the quiet between them. His fingers stilled above hers, then tightened ever so slightly—a gentle reassurance rather than restraint.
“I’ve thought about that a lot,” he admitted softly. “About how things could’ve turned out… if we’d held on just a little longer.” His voice was steady, but beneath it was a rawness that only she could hear.
He drew in a slow breath before continuing. “But I don’t blame you, [Name]. You made a choice that you believed was right—for both of us, and especially for her. I’ll always respect that.”
Her chest tightened. The sincerity in his tone, the quiet acceptance—it made her heart ache all over again. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught somewhere between her heart and her throat.
Sylus’s gaze lingered on her face—on the faint quiver of her lips, the way her lashes fluttered as she looked away. “Still…” he began, his voice low, hesitant, “would it be wrong to want to try again? To see if maybe… we could find our way back this time?”
Her breath hitched, eyes widening slightly as his words hung heavy in the air. The silence between them was no longer soft—it was electric, charged with everything they hadn’t said for years.
She didn’t move, didn’t speak. But she didn’t pull her hand away either.
Sylus leaned in slightly, his voice a whisper now, rough around the edges. “Would it be bad… if I asked to kiss you right now?”
Her heart raced, her lips parting as she searched his eyes—those familiar crimson eyes that once made her feel seen, safe, and loved. The air between them grew unbearably close, her pulse fluttering in her throat as the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them.
And though she didn’t say a word, the faint tremor of her breath, the way she didn’t move away, was answer enough.
***
Neither she nor he knew how they ended up at that moment. One second, they were sitting next to each other—too close, breaths uneven, and the next, Sylus was lifting her effortlessly into his arms.
He carried her toward the bedroom, the world outside falling away with each step. The soft click of the door closing behind them echoed in the silence, and for a heartbeat, all she could hear was the sound of their breathing—shallow, trembling, full of everything they’d been holding back.
When their eyes met, it felt like time stopped. Sylus reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face before his forehead rested gently against hers.
“[Name]...” he whispered, his voice low, unsteady.
She didn’t let him finish. Her hands found his face, pulling him closer, and their lips met again — not rushed this time, but deep and lingering. It was a kiss heavy with memory and longing, with all the things they’d lost and found again.
The next thing she knew was their clothes being discarded one by one as he lay her down on the bed. Their chests heaved as they tried to catch their breaths, the air between them still trembling with everything left unsaid. Almost hesitantly, Sylus lifted a hand and cupped her face, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek as if afraid she might disappear if he touched her too roughly.
“[Name]…” he murmured, her name falling from his lips like a prayer. His gaze searched hers, full of longing and apology, of every word he’d never been able to say.
Her eyes softened, and without thinking, she leaned into his touch, closing the tiny distance between them. His thumb traced her skin again — slow, reverent — before he rested his forehead against hers. “Do you want this?” He asked softly as he pressed a kiss on her forehead.
“Yes.” She spoke.
“I don’t want to lose you again,” he whispered, his voice breaking with sincerity.
She swallowed hard, her fingers curling against his chest. “Neither do I,” she admitted.
Then Sylus claimed her lips once more in which she responded eagerly, her arms wrapping his nape as she pulled him impossibly closer. A whimper escaped her lips as Sylus began to nip at her earlobe and pressed kisses along her jaw and neck. Then his hands made their way down to her breasts, massaging them softly. His gaze went up to meet hers, a smirk tugging his lips as he licked each of her nipples before wrapping his lips around it, while his hand squeezed the other.
A gasp tore from her throat, while her fingers, still tangled in his hair, tightened, pulling him closer even as her back arched, offering herself more fully to his ministrations. Her head fell back, resting against the pillows, her eyes fluttering closed as she gave herself over entirely to the sensation. His free hand, meanwhile, slid lower, tracing the curve of her hip, then dipping further, teasing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
"Sylus," she breathed, his name a broken plea on her lips.
“Yes love, I am here.” He whispered, his kisses traveling down her body until it reached her core. She attempts to close her legs shut when she feels a wave of embarrassment course through her. With a chuckle, Sylus gripped each side of her thighs to prevent them. “There’s no reason to feel embarrassed now. I am only claiming what is mine.” He mumbled before dipping his head lower ‘til she felt his lips licking her drenched slick.
She moaned as Sylus began to lap on her pussy, his finger already curling inside. As the pace of his tongue and fingers fastened, a familiar knot started to form on her lower abdomen. Sylus already knew that she’s almost at her peak just by the clenching of her pussy around his fingers.
“Let go for me, let me hear you.”
Her hips arched instinctively and breath hitched as her nails dug into the sheets beneath her. He lifted his head just enough to meet her dazed, heavy-lidded gaze, his eyes dark with hunger and satisfaction and the faint glow of his crimson eye didn't go unnoticed. A low, guttural growl rumbled in his chest as he plunged his fingers deeper, his tongue sweeping over her clit with a sudden, forceful pressure that sent a shockwave through her core.
Then, her pleasure came quickly, leaving her breathless and utterly undone. Sylus held her tight, his hand gripping her hip, his tongue still lapping, savoring every last drop of her release, a smile curving his lips as her pleasure echoed in his own body.
He leaned closer to her face and kissed her once again, allowing her to taste her own through his lips. Then, he rubbed his growing arousal against her pussy to tease her even more since he knew that she’s still sensitive from her previous orgasm.
“Do you need a break? I can stop if you want me to.” He whispered softly, kissing her forehead and cheeks. “No, I want you Sylus. Please.”
"As you wish, my love." Then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered her, filling her completely, eliciting a sharp, exquisite cry that he swallowed with a deep, passionate kiss.
He paused for a moment, allowing them both to adjust. Then, he pulled back just an inch, feeling the tightness of her core around him, and then drove forward again, deeper this time, eliciting a choked gasp of pure pleasure. He began to move with a steady rhythm, slow enough to savor the depth, which soon became fast enough to drive them both toward the edge. Each thrust was a declaration, targeting the exact sensitive spot that made her hips buck up to meet him, urging him deeper still.
“Yes, Sylus, just like that,” she gasped out between ragged breaths, her voice strained with mounting ecstasy. Her legs wrapped around his waist, anchoring him to her, ensuring he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to. Her nails were digging lightly into the muscles of his back, which only fueled his urgency.
He lowered his head, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw to the frantic pulse in her throat. "Tell me you feel this," he growled, the words barely coherent as his movements intensified, becoming faster, harder, driven by the knowledge that she was right there with him, utterly consumed. The air in the room grew heavy with their mingled scents and the sounds of skin meeting skin, a wet, rhythmic slapping that was the only music they needed.
He then lifted her hips and rested them on his shoulder which allowed him to thrust deeper in her. She almost screamed at his sudden thrust, but luckily Sylus was quick to capture her moans by kissing her lips. His tongue plunged into her mouth with the same fierce intensity as his cock plunged into her. Her hands, previously clutching his shoulders, now tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if to devour him whole. Each deep thrust brought a new wave of sensation, a delicious ache that spread through her core, making her hips instinctively buck against his, begging for more.
The kiss broke as they gasped for air. Sylus tore his mouth away, a guttural sound ripping from his chest as he buried his face in the sensitive curve of her neck.
“Where do you want me?” He asked for permission as he felt his own pleasure approaching.
“I-Inside.. I’m near Sylus..” She moaned and that’s what all it took for him, biting on the curve of her neck as he released inside her. Which then was followed by her own as well with her leg trembling on his shoulder and breaths coming in ragged.
A quiet stillness filled the room, broken only by the sound of their uneven breaths and the thundering rhythm of two hearts finally finding their way back to one another. Her fingers gently brushed through Sylus’s silver hair, her touch soft and trembling. He stayed close, his forehead resting against her shoulder, their warmth mingling in the dim light. Neither of them spoke — too afraid that words might shatter the fragile peace that had settled over them.
Then, after a moment, her voice broke the silence — small, uncertain, but sincere.
“Sylus… were you serious? About starting over?”
He lifted his head, crimson eyes meeting hers. There was no hesitation there, only truth.
“I was,” he said quietly, his hand coming up to cradle her face. “And I still am. I don’t ever want to lose you again, [Name]. Not you, not Selene.”
Her breath caught, tears welling in her eyes as his thumb brushed the corner of her lip.
“I know I can’t undo the past,” he continued, his voice soft but steady, “but by all means, I swear I’ll protect you both. No matter what it takes.”
A single tear fell from her eyes which Sylus instantly wiped away before pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“I know it might be too early to say but,” he murmured, his voice low and trembling as his thumb brushed along her skin. “I love you, [Name]. I never stopped, even after we went our separate ways years ago. Not a day passed that I didn’t think of you—of what could’ve been.”
Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, she could only look at him. The sincerity in his gaze, the warmth in his touch, and the familiar softness in his tone all wrapped around her like a memory she’d been trying so hard to forget, but never truly could.
“Oh, Sylus…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You don’t know how many times I wished things had been different. That maybe, if I hadn’t been so scared, we wouldn’t have lost all those years.”
He shook his head gently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We can’t change what’s already done, but we can choose what comes next.”
That made her smile—small, fragile, but real. She took his hand, guiding it to rest over her heart. “Then I want to choose this… us. I still love you, Sylus. I think a part of me always will, no matter what happened before.”
His breath hitched, eyes softening as if her words were the very thing he’d been waiting to hear for years. For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Sylus leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers, his thumb tracing slow, reverent circles over her hand.
“Then we’ll do it right this time,” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. “No more running. No more fear. Just us—and her.”
A soft laugh escaped her lips as she nodded, tears slipping freely down her cheeks. “Just us,” she echoed, before Sylus closed the distance between them, sealing their promise with a tender kiss that spoke of love lost, found, and reborn.
Not spoiling his kids and all, letting em run around and do kid shit, but like they say, "don't poke the bear" for the love of god don't poke the bear or he's gonna go on some supervillain dialogue while assembling his gun nonchalantly like he's just exchanging greetings and smalltalk.
"The time it takes for me to assemble this gun should've been enough time for your kid and yourself to scram. Do you wanna get shot that bad?"
