Sylus sees his newborn baby’s eyes for the first time.
Sylus fluff, soft Sylus, papa Sylus 💕
wc: 950~ brief mention of childbirth but nothing too specific
I knoooow such a big jump from purring to hairbrushing and suddenly a baby??? I’m sorry my mind is all over the place >.<
I was actually inspired by an art post a few days back (which I will link down below because I think it’s nicer to see after the story) and it’s about papa Sylus holding his baby. In it, Sylus’ eyes are sooo so so soft huhu I just wanna hug him.
And I know y’all want Sylus to be a girl dad, but for personal reasons, it’s a baby boy in this story 🩵
While you were pregnant, Sylus would often mention how much he wanted a mini-you. Your hair, your eyes, your smile, your everything. He would even lay his head near the precious swell of your belly, gently stroking it and asking the baby to “be good and choose your mother’s features,” to which you would laugh, ruffle his hair, and call him silly.
When the gender ultrasound revealed that it was a boy, Sylus smiled. “I only wish that he would be healthy, and would look like you, my love.”
So was it even a surprise when you first saw your baby in the delivery room, crying and held up by the doctor for you and Sylus to see, that their hair is the same color as yours. Sylus, who was firmly holding your hand beside you, broke into a grin so wide. He kisses the back of your hand, eyes twinkling in joy, absorbing the moment.
After a quick cleaning, the baby boy is placed in your arms, and you both greet him with soft coos as he calms down in contact with your warmth. Sylus hovers closely, fixing your hair, caressing your cheek, his eyes looking at you with pride. Then, he reaches out a finger to gently stroke the baby’s head. “Yours,” he says happily, referring to the hair.
Sylus is called away to sign a few forms, and he reluctantly leaves, promising to return quickly. But in the brief moment of his absence, you saw the baby take his first peek at the world, and you smile at him in wonder. However, the baby quickly closed his puffy eyes, and it would be a while before he would open them again.
After settling in your private room, you encourage Sylus to give the baby some skin-to-skin as well, citing the benefits of close physical contact with both parents. He readily agrees, opening the buttons of his shirt, but teases you with an arch of his brow— “if you wanted to see my body, you could have just asked, sweetie.” You make a face, to which he laughs, before coming over to carefully hold his baby. Tentatively, ever so gently, he feels the little weight in his arms, his eyes softening at the sight. Settling until it seems like he’s always known how to cradle a baby. Like he belongs in his arms.
He slowly sinks into the sofa beside your bed, cradling the precious little treasure against his bare chest. Sylus gently caresses the baby’s head, his finger then trailing down to the nose, tracing the quirk of their mouth, and teasingly poking a chubby cheek. “Yours, yours, and yours,” he smiles as he confirms that the boy looks just like you.
The sleepy baby is just about the length of his arm, barely a few hours old, yet Sylus is already heaping praise upon praise on him for his good wisdom to take after his mother. You roll your eyes at this. Sylus conveniently ignores it.
Perhaps curious at the familiar deep voice murmuring nearby, the baby stirs and his eyelids start to flutter as if wanting to see who it is. Sylus zeroes in on the movement, confident that the eyes would match yours too once they opened.
His expectant face, however, is abruptly turned into one of surprise. His mouth took a sharp inhale and his pupils grew wide as he held the gaze of the newborn.
Red. Staring back at him is the same vibrant color that greets him in mirrors.
Red. A striking reflection of his own, down to the exact warm shade.
Red. The heat of a cozy bonfire, the glory of blazing sunsets, the bold strokes of autumn leaves.
Red. The color of passion and determination and strength and love.
Red. His. Not like yours, but like his.
Sylus seems to have forgotten how to breathe.
It was the baby’s slow blink and soft coos, unaware of the shock he just gave his father, that reeled Sylus back.
Sylus let out a quiet laugh, his eyebrows scrunching together. “So you chose my eyes?” He leaned down to gently press his forehead against the baby’s. “Mine,” he whispers reverently. “My baby. My son. My precious little one. It’s me, your… your papa.”
And you, a happy witness, felt your heart melt even more for the man before you. He keeps composed, though you swear you saw his lips wobble a tiny fraction.
When Sylus finally raises his head to look at you, his usual smirk is back, though his glowing eyes seem slightly watery. “He’s perfect,” he declares, standing to return the baby into your arms before wrapping you in an embrace, careful of the little one in between you. He presses a lingering kiss to your lips, then buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Thank you, beloved,” he whispers, voice a little hoarse. “I will love you both for eternity and more.”
——————————
Papa Syloooos ily ily ily aaaaah 💕
Red. The color of fortune!!! May fortune be with you as you pull for your main(s) in the new banner!!! Happy lunar new year to you~ 🏮
And HERE is the art by @earthsrirshaart that inspired me for this!!! Gooo check out her other works if you haven’t!!! There’s more papa Sylus and also *ahem* sexy Sylus 🤭
@abyssyby @terriblesoup I hope you guys like this one! 💕
@hachisenshi thank you for the tag in your post! Cheers to new friends!
I am so hyped for the new banner but my dias aren’t. Pls pray for this f2p player, help me manifest Sylus Shared Lanterns T_T / EDIT: I GOT HIM GUYS!!! Yaaaaaay 💕
gn reader, hair is described as fluffy, has scars of unspecified origin
fluff & slight hurt/comfort, semi early relationship
wc: 1.4k
continuing this idea properly!
Sylus taps his fingers in a rhythm on his car's center console, staring out his front window at your apartment complex. This shouldn't feel intimidating. He's been to your place before. He's a mob boss. He's knowingly walked into rooms filled with armed men and felt less nervous than he does now.
It's just that this is his first time visiting so casually. He had come over before to pick you up for dates, but you always cleaned the place beforehand and dressed up in a cute outfit for him. He's never seen you without a pre-prepared layer of polish over your behavior and appearance. He's never seen you bare, never seen your apartment messy, never seen you sleepy-eyed and groggy in the mornings, or dozing off on soft nights.
He's elated at the prospect of seeing your more vulnerable self, of course. He just doesn't want to react in the wrong way and spook you. It's rare for you to let someone close to you like this, and just the slightest hint of unease or discomfort in your expression could undo him.
He has been meticulous about minding your boundaries and taking things slowly, moving in accordance with your comfort level and gradually building your trust in him. He longs to be your safe person, someone you know you can rely on after being burned so many times before. The last thing he wants is to push things too far and feel you slip through his fingers like sand.
Sylus takes in a deep breath and exhales in a sigh, sitting up straight and gathering his things. You just finished battling a brutal stretch of short deadlines and accepted his offer of coming to see you with your favorite takeout for a movie night. You told him about your exhausted state and let him know you were too drained to clean or dress up, and he assured you he didn't mind. You're probably hungry and waiting for him, and he can't just keep sitting in his car all day.
He gives himself one last moment to steel himself and regain his composure, then opens the car door and climbs out with the food, his movements smooth and graceful in a way that almost seems unfeasible with his long limbs. His heart pounds harder than he'd like to admit as he walks into the elevator, nervously cracking the knuckles of his free hand as he waits the agonizing thirty seconds it takes to reach your floor.
The elevator opens with a quiet ding, and before he realizes it, he's already at your front door. He's here, there's no going back. No more hesitation. He knocks a firm rhythm onto the metal, and feels his heart rate spike when you answer from inside.
"Be right there!"
He hears your socked feet padding towards the door, and-
There you are. You're clad in one of his t-shirts, which practically swallows your frame, leaving just a hint of your pajama shorts underneath. You're showing more skin than usual, granting Sylus clearer insight into the shape of your form. Your hair is fluffy and a bit mussed-up, and he can see the bags that had developed under your eyes over the past weeks of work. You look so soft like this.
And your scars. The ones you had mentioned prior, the marks that are always concealed under fabric, kept hidden away from even your close friends. You've chosen to leave them out in the open air, to allow him to see your closely guarded secret, rolling over and showing him your soft underbelly in hopes of receiving acceptance and finding solace in sharing this part of you with someone else.
Sylus can feel a subtle blush blooming on his cheeks, and he just barely maintains his steady voice and composure as he leans against your doorframe. It takes great restraint to keep himself from stepping forward and pulling you tightly into his embrace, ensuring that you know that you're his, all his. It's hard to tease you when all the words jumble up in his head and threaten to escape his lips in the form of desperate confessions.
"Long time no see, kitten. Did you miss me while you were holed up in that little office of yours?"
"Maybe," you huff in response, pretending to be unaffected. But you perk back up when you smell the food, looking up at him like a hopeful puppy. "Come in?" you ask, gently grasping his wrist and tugging him forward.
"Of course." He responds as smoothly as he can, following you inside and closing the door behind him, toeing off his shoes neatly.
It's seeing your space that undoes the final knot holding back his pining. It's a bit messy, but everywhere in the clutter, he can see you. The snacks you leave by the TV for easy access, the jackets folded over chairs, the rumpled comforter on your bed, the books and trinkets and little notes left out, even the few dirty dishes and socks that just missed the laundry basket. Just being able to view your home like this feels as though you're entrusting him with a little piece of your soul.
His words have the slightest wobble when he speaks up again, deep tenderness swirling in his eyes when they meet yours.
"Sweetheart... may I hold you?"
All you need to do is nod, allowing Sylus to pull you tightly into his embrace. It's a little rougher than usual, more desperate, more constrictive, but you welcome the extra affection. He exhales shakily, his breath brushing your hair as he nearly envelops your smaller form with his own. His hands feel so large against your back, clutching you tight, fingers solid against your ribcage, as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment.
He presses soft kisses to your neck, lavishing you with his overflowing adoration, your proximity flooding his senses with an amount of fondness he hadn't thought possible.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers, the tremble in his hands betraying his desire to say so much more. He pulls away for a moment only to hold your forearm delicately with one hand, gently kissing his way up the scarred skin. His eyes meet your wide ones, and he soothes the thumb of his free hand over your heated cheek. "Promise me... you'll let me see you like this more often?"
When you nod, he notices the tears gathering in your eyes and bubbling over to drip down your cheeks. Cooing at you softly, he releases your arm in order to hold your face in both of his hands, tenderly kissing away the fragile, bittersweet little droplets until a smile returns to your face.
"I could never possibly express how much I adore you," he murmurs, staring deeply into your eyes. "So, please... allow me to pamper you tonight?"
"Yes," you respond, your smile mirroring his own. Upon receiving your approval, Sylus laughs softly, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck before he lifts you in a tight hug, his lips pressed against yours.
When the two of you reluctantly part, Sylus kisses both of your cheeks, your nose, then your forehead, before meeting your gaze again. "Now, how about we take care of a certain kitten's hunger?"
---
The two of you end the night with full bellies and warm hearts after eating comfort food and sharing some of your favorite movies.
You dozed off on the couch, and Sylus just barely manages to coax you into brushing your teeth and heading to bed. Just as he pulls away to return to the couch, he feels two smaller hands grabbing one of his own. Pausing, he turns back to face you, and is met with the biggest puppy eyes you've ever given him.
"Stay? Please?" you beg, and Sylus doesn't have the heart to say no. He climbs into bed alongside you, already wearing pajamas he had brought with him just in case. The sleepy, happy hum you grant him as you snuggle close and melt into his chest is enough to make his heart thrum with fondness.
He rubs his hand up and down your back in the way that he learned relaxes you best, and you're fast asleep in no time, legs entangled with his own. Your face relaxed in sleep is adorable, a pure, genuine sign of your trust in him, and Sylus already knows this is a memory he'll treasure for as long as he lives.
— the big twins watch the little twins for a day and long for what they think they'll never have.
ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: my babies my angels my loves ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ sylus is just a dad of 4. here's a silly little fic about the big twins watching the little twins. they have a great time. let me know what you think of this one lol, it was super fun to make! enjoy! ❀-urs
important heads up for context of this story: kyros and lucian are (my headcanon) sylus's twin boys. around 3 years old at this time.
kieran, luke, lucian and kyros highlight!! | sylus x reader | fluff, angst, softbabysitter!twins, mom!reader, sufferingdad!sylus, bigtwins are also sylus's sons change my mind??
tw: separation anxiety/tantrums, past abuse mentioned (pls let me know if I missed any!)
Don’t drop them.
Don’t lose them.
Dinner is at six.
Easy enough. They’ve gone through more difficult missions before. Covert ones, requiring meticulous planning and great improvisation.
Kieran prides himself in being able to execute seventeen different kinds of strategies to take down a group of thirty men within 5 minutes. Luke can persuade anyone into doing anything, and eliminate them— without a trace—if they don’t comply. Exceptional mercenaries. Isolated ghosts. Nothing is impossible.
Perfectly capable babysitters, if you ask them.
How they made the silent twin wail like a siren and the rambunctious one sit still was beyond them.
“Papa!” Kyros screams, blotchy red cheeks puffed and damp bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead. He presses himself against the heavy main door, as if forcing himself to walk through, stretching his little limbs and straining his ankles to reach the knob. “Papa! Papa!”
“Keero mad.” Lucian blinks, staring at his brother across the room, snuggled against his mama’s blanket. Your scent envelops him, helps him stay calm in your absence. You had left for your mission earlier that day, and Lucian has since finished his little tantrum, as evidenced by his own salt-crusted cheeks.
Luke and Kieran are a mess, to put it mildly.
“It’s okay, little boss,” Luke tries to say, pulling the toddler away from the door where Sylus had just left from. Kyros gurgles a desperate sound as he weighs himself down to the floor in protest. “Big boss will be back.”
“Papa!” Kyros cries, calming words falling on deaf ears.
“I don’t think he knows who ‘big boss’ is.” Kieran, equally panicked but hiding his racing heart behind calm breathing, offers. “Little boss, papa will be back.”
Kyros seems to scream louder at that, stomping his little feet and running off to the crevice by the door. He squeezes himself against the corner and sobs. Fat droplets of tears streaming down his swollen cheeks. Heartbreakingly resembling an abandoned hamster.
Kieran’s arms fall to his sides—how? How is this little one such an angel during play time and…? Have they done something to upset him? Does he not really like them? Is this how he finds out that a child can have preferences and can choose not to prefer them?
Before Kieran can spiral deeper in self-pity and throw Luke off with the swelling emotion in his chest, in their periphery, they see movement from the couch. Lucian, wrapped in his mother’s blanket, waddles over to his brother and gives him a little hug. “Squeezy-squeeze, Keero. No cry.”
Luke blinks at the sight. The realization comes to him in the form of a distant sensation— freezing cold cells, the deafening bang of a metal door and him, anguished and ashamed, crowding Kieran close to the corner of their room where they held one another—high on sedatives— after they had just torn each other apart to survive another day.
With that, he moves slowly, approaching the little twins with caution and then opens his arms. “Kyros?”
Lucian makes way, and at the sight, Kyros scrambles over to Luke and buries his hiccups in his chest. He engulfs him in a hug, mindful of the pressure he applies with his arms and how that would translate to a little body like Kyros’s. Pressure, deep, deep pressure tethers him back to them.
Kyros deflates, nuzzling his wet little face into the fabric of Luke’s turtleneck. He can’t be bothered by the snot, relieved that the boy has begun to stop crying.
“Papa will be back.” Luke says quietly, making sure to press his lips into the baby’s head so he can feel the sound. Something he’d observed you and Sylus would do to him. “Kieran and I are here.”
He exhales when he realizes Kyros doesn’t struggle. That he is allowed to comfort him like his parents do.
“Be back now.” Kyros murmurs, genuinely thinking big, strong Luke and Kieran can do something about it.
“Later.” Luke assures him. “Just out on a mission.”
“No, ‘ishun.” he shakes his head, eyes glassy and pleading. “No, pease?”
“Sorry, buddy, Papa’s work is important.”
“Maybe we can do something else? Like… hide & go boom?” Kieran offers, mirroring the quiet voice and lifting Lucian up into his arms as well. An effort to put them all on equal footing.
Lucian nods. “Yes.”
Kyros shakes his head. “Don’wanna.”
“Okay, that’s fine.” Luke nods, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “How ‘bout the hammock?”
Kyros shakes his head again, much to their disappointment.
Kieran racks his brain for ideas. Were it not for the devastation on the little boy’s face, he would have found it funny that he gets to see how Sylus would cry, if he were a small toddler. Lucian and Kyros look so much like Sylus, they might as well be triplets.
In the corner of his eye, he sees the coat closet open, and an idea is born. “Hey… wanna see papa?”
𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
“Get out.” Kieran rasps, pushing his voice deep into his chest. He stands in an imposing pose, chin jutted out to accentuate his jaw and squinting his eyes to be half-lidded and bored.
On his shoulders was Sylus’s brown leather coat, on his feet were Sylus’s large shoes and on his head… was Lucian. Serving as a giggly white wig on his hair.
“Give us the brooch!” Luke demands, Kyros in a baby carrier strapped tightly to his chest. He wore your hunter gloves on his thumb and forefinger, far too small, and Kyros held an empty water gun.
“I hid it, go find it.” rasps Keiran again. Poorly hiding the cough that rips through his chest.
“Where, papa?” Kyros giggles as he’s swung around. Luke makes exaggerated movements of disbelief.
“Here.” cough. “There.” cough, cough. He rubs his throat and swallows drily, brows knitting together as he breathes out with great difficulty, “Somewhere.”
Lucian— a sentient wig, apparently— points to the playroom. Kyros nods in understanding.
“Fine’da boots!” Kyros wriggles, willing Luke to march forward. Luke hobbles into the playroom and puts Kyros down, who dives into his toy box. Kieran follows with Lucian.
“Keero, no there!” Lucian says, scrambling off of Kieran’s shoulders, hitting him in the eye— both big twins wince— and sliding down his leg.
“Don’t tell him, Cian, we’re team papa.” Kieran chuckles, rubbing his eye as he sinks onto the floor to watch the little twins. Something swells in his chest as he watches the two executing his little mission— an affirmation that he’s done something worth their time.
Luke pauses from searching for a clue. He asks, because it matters to the story, “Wait. Does that mean we’re team mama?”
“Boots?” Kyros asks, holding up a toy fork.
Lucian swats it away, “No!”
Kyros continues his search, asking everyone if whatever he was interacting with was a brooch.
“Boots?” He asks, bouncing on the trampoline.
“Boots?” As he slides down the playset.
“Boots?” As he carefully stacks the colored rings into a wobbly tower.
Boots? Boots? Boots?
“I don’t think he remembers what the brooch looks like.” Luke finally says, after minutes of watching Kyros turn the place upside down.
Lucian has since joined, and the moment he pulls out the plastic bathtime boat and presents it to them with a hopeful, “Dis boats?”— Kieran is sure he has forgotten now too.
“No… uh…” Kieran thinks, lips quirking to the side. He tries to explain what the small, metal pin looks like to the toddlers again. They stare at him with wide, clueless eyes, feigning comprehension. “It’s black and has a bird— a small black bird in the middle,” he says, motioning towards Luke who points at the drawer it was in.
Lucian nods first. “Ohh…”
Kyros hops up with a newfound fervor. “Bird! Ya, bird!”
“Yes! Bird! Do you remember n— HEY!”
In a flash, Kyros has tugged his brother out the door and the pair sprint down the halls. Kieran scrambles to stand, feeling his knees pop at the quick motion while Luke slips and tumbles on the rug trying to get to the door. He blinks back the black and white dots from his vision as he runs.
“Wait, wait!” Kieran begs, listening to the echoes of laughter down the halls to follow. Luke is already swiping through the security camera feed to locate them.
The boss is going to kill them. You’re going to kill them dead.
The giggles resonate throughout the halls until they are confusing. Kieran swears he hears Lucian down the left and Kyros down the right, but Luke just saw them together on Camera 8.
“They’re—they’re teleporting!”
“Do they have evol? I’ve never seen them—did you hear that?!”
“Part boss? Did you spot wings?!”
“Quiet! Let’s…”
They stop. An argument between them brews just in the horizon when the silence swallows them whole.
“Where are they?” Kieran glances at Luke’s phone. His jaw sets. Swipe after swipe through the camera feeds, they finds no trace of them. Luke’s hand begins to shake.
Kieran’s comments don’t help. “… I don’t like that.” Camera 13— empty. “No, no, I hate that.”
Luke shakes his head as helplessness consumes him. “They’re invisible.”
“Stop it.”
Chills trickle down Luke’s spine as he hears faint laughter echo down the halls that he fails to localize. “Were they even real?”
Kieran shoves his brother. “Listen to yourself!”
Don’t lose them.
Before their hysteria escalates— praise be— they hear a very distressed squawking. With a look, they take off left. Boss’s office.
There they find Lucian balanced on his father’s chair— round belly dented over the head rest, stretching to reach the charging perch, little hands grabbing the mechanical bird by the neck. Kyros stares up, holding the other boy’s legs as to not let him fall.
“Kee-wan, bird!” Lucian says proudly, wiggling in his already precarious state. Kieran feels his life force in his throat as he rushes to get him down from the chair. Palms cold and clammy, fingers trembling and struggling to get a grip.
Don’t drop them.
“Boots!” Kyros proclaims in a shout. It still surprises them how loud Kyros can actually be. “Pisto boots!”
“Mephisto was not the br—“ Kieran’s mouth is slapped shut as Luke cuts him off with cheers.
“Little bosses found the brooch!” Because he can’t have them running off to find any other thing they think is the brooch again. He can’t do it. His head is still spinning from his wipe out. He curses under his breath, silently checking— just in case— for little wings.
The little boys scream in delight. Kieran softens at the sight, silently grateful his brother cut him off. Who would want to miss this?
He pries Lucian’s fingers off of Mephisto gently and places the bird back on the perch. “Nice job, kids.”
𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
Dinner comes at six o’clock. Sylus had put his boys into a routine so well maintained that the sound of the clock striking six wasn’t a bell, but his son’s growling stomachs.
“Papa made you squash.” Luke says, taking it out the fridge and heating it. Meanwhile, Kieran buckles them in their ridiculously luxurious high-chairs. “And fish…”
Luke pauses at the note written on top of the bigger container of meat and potatoes. Reads: Big Twins in handwriting they’ve only seen on under-the-table-offers, bidding slips and ledgers. He tries not to let it get to him, takes it out and heats it as well.
“Papa home?” Kyros asks, although this time with more curiosity than despair.
“Not yet.” Kieran tells him, giving his shoulders a grounding squeeze.
It doesn’t escape them how they’ve been calling Sylus “papa” all day too. How it came so easily when the adjustment was needed. Somehow they can’t seem to stop.
Luke serves dinner. Two ceramic plates and two silicone-suction-cupped bowls.
Lucian’s nose knocks into a palm as his path to his food is blocked. Kieran chides, “It’s hot.”
Lucian blinks at Kieran, who is still wearing Sylus’s coat and shoes, and tilts his head in amusement. Something connects in his head and he giggles. “Like papa.”
Kieran’s face flushes, and Luke howls in laughter as he takes that in too. He hurls the silicone spoon at his brother like a javelin, and through his laughter, Luke catches it with ease. Straight to the sink it went and a new spoon is handed to Lucian.
An unspoken truth passes between the big twins, a dawning that settles in them like warm milk on a sleepless night, as they feed their corresponding little twin.
This is their life now— not just running errands, killing, and negotiating for Sylus, no matter how much they enjoyed that. How that put them into use. How that gave them purpose. A reason to exist in this world that hated them enough to maim them, and strip them of who they were only to throw them away. Because even then, they were still worth nothing.
Now, in the soft glow of the kitchen light, eating the food Sylus had prepared them, feeding their charges. They see, they hope: this—this is who they are. Not machines, not weapons—boys, brothers, parts of this family. No matter how fleeting it may all be.
They doubt it, but they feel it. In the way you check up on them when they come back from a mission, in Sylus’s silent but kind regard, in the little twins’ comfort and acceptance. Despite their shortcomings, their differences, they have found a place here. And maybe one day, the masks will come off and they will be nothing, thrown away once more— but what a wonder to have had this all the same.
“Kee-wan, Wook,” Lucian tells Kyros, pointing a chubby little finger at the wrong twin as he says it. Pulling the two out of their spiraling thoughts, different but grounded in the same soil.
Kyros shakes his head calmly, chewing on the soft squash Luke fed him. He points correctly, “Wook. Keewi.”
Seeking confirmation, Kieran gives Kyros a thumbs up. The little boy grins a proud orange smile, squash and all. Meanwhile, Luke teaches Lucian the differences— “Kieran’s head is this weird sha—ow!”
𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
You’re still snickering at the video footage Mephisto sent you of Sylus lingering on the front door from earlier. Head devastatingly pressed to the wood, a white fist around the handle as his son screamed for him to come back on the other side.
“It was terrible,” he tells you. His hand hovers on your lower back as you both ascend the pathway to the base.
You offer him a sympathetic smile and squeeze his shoulder. “I know.”
“We’re back!” You announce as the door is pushed open. Sylus slips in behind you.
It takes a moment for the footsteps to emerge, but they do. They always do. Only it wasn’t just the two light-footed ones’ you usually hear. Accompanying them was the sound of loud, bounding leather boots.
“Mama!” Lucian screeches, little legs pumping to get to you. Leading the charge. Behind him, his brother— face scrunched in solemn determination, trying to catch up. Eyes zeroed in on his papa. And behind them…
“Stop! Ow, Mephisto! Kieran, get him!”
“I’m trying— He’s— OW!”
The mechanical bird nosedives towards the two larger twins who struggle to catch their wards and fight off the bird at the same time. You giggle at the sight, and you hear Sylus chuckle the faintest bit too.
Both on your knees, you each catch a twin, showering them with affection. Leaving the base for work has been harder than ever since these two gained the curse of existential dread and skill of object permanence.
“Papa home!” you turn at your Kyros’s voice, who pats his father’s hollow cheeks softly. Meant as a happy report rather than a guilt-tripping accusation. Still, it prickles Sylus’s nose red as he tries to swallow the emotion that rises with the memory of his son’s cries.
He presses his nose into his angel’s silver hair and breathes him in. “Brave boy.”
“Mama!” Lucian says, both hands on your cheeks, turning your gaze towards the fumbling big twins. He points, correctly this time to each. “Kee-wan. Wook.”
You squint, taking note of the differences despite their movement and then beam. “You’re right!”
He giggles like a pebble skipped over a frozen lake when you pepper his face with kisses.
“Mephisto.” At Sylus’s command, the bird ceases. It flutters to a nearby shelf and tilts its head as if nothing happened.
“Were Kieran and Luke good babysitters?” Sylus asks. Even if he knows, Mephisto having sent automatic updates on his twins’ mishaps.
The little twins nod happily in response, then came the litany of warbles meant to be a retelling of their day. Two baby birds with their mouths wide open trying to string together something coherent.
You and Sylus catch ‘keewi papa’, ‘boots’, ’boats’ and ‘pisto mad’. Understanding was half the battle when both your boys told stories with such vigor. You struggled to keep them in your arms as they ‘swoosh’ed and ‘fwish’ed, reenacting as if they could project their imaginations to the wall for mama and papa to see.
Sylus turns to the big twins who listened proudly. Given they had context, they seemed to understand more than the parents did. He raises a brow, squinting slightly at Kieran to make sure, then asks, “Are those my clothes?”
Kieran jumps, tongue in his throat. “I—“
“Looks good on you.” Sylus says so casually it was unbelievable. Lucian nods in agreement, “Like papa!”
“Wook squeezies.” Kyros mentions as well, pointing at Luke, who had calmed him earlier. He nods in approval, swinging his feet. “Like Wook squeezies.”
“Looks like you guys did really good,” you commend, walking over to the big twins. You brush a feather out of Luke’s hair, eyes sharp as you secretly check for scratches from their earlier bird-attack. Luke flinches at the contact, and you point at his forehead knowingly. “Ice.”
He hesitates, then gives a bashful smile. Rug. Right. “Oh, that’s… psh.”
You promise to get him some. And before you forget, you add, “Thanks, guys.”
“Faithful minions—“
“—at your service.”
The tired grins on their faces make your heart clench. That… doesn’t feel right. The silence that follows is hollow as the weight of their own words settle into the space between them. Is it possible for them to believe that’s all they are? Help? Followers only good for their hands to take orders? The mere thought settles like bile on your tongue.
You shake your head at the ridiculous notion and prop Lucian up on your hip. “Tell your brothers goodnight, Cian.”
Lucian extends his arms and Luke plucks him from your hold. Easy and familiar, Lucian presses his forehead on each one’s like a lion cub. “Na-nite.” He whispers.
And just like that, they feel the warmth that radiates off of the little one so overwhelmingly. Just as they do pain, they feel this too— this thing that neither of them have the words for yet. But it is heavy as it is true. Lucian’s hands touching their faces, the gentle repose of your eyes work wonders to cast away old, haunting thoughts of being lesser than or temporary.
Kieran holds him a little longer. Luke stares. For once, they have no strategy, no words, no logic or skill to make sense of the feeling. Standing there, in silence, they choke on something so difficult to swallow.
You make a mental note to treat them to something fun soon. Hang out with them like you did before the little twins came along. Maybe Luke would appreciate an opportunity to redeem himself in laser tag, or Kieran would like to play a video game again. You’ll make the time.
They freeze when you press a chaste kiss to each of their cheeks, then pass Lucian back into your arms. Without another word, you turn towards the kitchen to hunt for something frozen and something to eat. Nodding along and offering “ah-huh”s and “then what?”s as Lucian’s weaves a colorful, jargon-laced story.
Sylus follows after you, Kyros already snuggled to his chest with half-lidded eyes and fingers clutching his shirt. He pauses, just as he walks past the twins. A heavy air hangs between them, but it isn’t suffocating. Not tense, or harrowing. Come to think of it, they haven’t felt that in ages. Not since Sylus.
The air was just… firm. Stable and calm.
“Thank you,” he says to them, holding their gaze with a reverence that they’ve never noticed before—one they had only ever mistaken for dismissal. But now, really looking, they see it. What Sylus truly feels for them— proven in the trust he had placed in them. Gratitude in the way they cared for his kin, just as he once cared for them; taking them in despite their troubled beginnings.
Pride, in its full glory.
He is proud of them.
And as if Sylus sees the gears turn and lock into place in their heads, as if he has been welcomed into their twin loop at last, he smiles—careful and sincere. “Get some rest.”
Kyros waves a sleepy little hand at them as they go.
Alone, Luke and Keiran turn. Faces reflecting each other. Once never needing a mirror, now taking in the flustered, upside-down smiles pulling at the corners of their lips. They shake their heads at the impossibility of it all. And yet.
A home, a family. Despite their past, their sins and their scars—
They are enough.
Finally, they belong.
𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆
⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more little twins ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆
Sylus who's been waiting all this time for you and can't stand the thought of being away from you.
Sylus who loves the thought of waking up next to you and holding you close to his body, breathing in your scent he hasn't smelt in so long. Who lays in bed staring at your face that he's memorized a thousand times over.
Sylus who watches you walk around his house in his clothes and it fills him with a sense of possessive pride. The dragon in him pleased to see you returned to his hoard once more.
Sylus who would hand you the world on a platter, if you would only ask. Who would rip his own heart from his chest if it would please you.
Sylus who wants to breathe in everything that you are and consume you from the inside out.
Sylus who can't even stomach the thought of another, because for him there's never been anyone but you.
notes: first post on this acc yippeee! the new trailer made me so soft, and i needed to get domestic sylus out of my system. enjoy!
cw: sick fmc, soft sylus, established relationship, cuddles, kissing, strong language, slightly (VERY SLIGHT) sexual content, mentions of sex?, fluff
wc: 3.5k+
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In truth, you felt it coming. Having trained your body to its physical peak to fight wanderers, you could always tell when you weren't at it. You felt slow yesterday, misstepping where you normally would have parried. It took longer for you to catch your breath, shallow and hurried breaths replacing deep and mindful ones. You denied it all the way home, even as your nostrils filled with mucus and your throat grew more and more pained. There was no more refuting it when you woke this morning, your first swallow of saliva stinging down your raw throat. Your head pounded, sweat lining your brow as a fever broke through you. Calling out of work expended all the energy you had, your scratchy voice sounding more like a crow's caw than English. As you sat in bed, holding your pounding head in your hands, you knew it would be a long and shitty day.
7:08 AM
mephisto's baby daddy: Morning, Sweetie. Text me when you get up.
9:23 AM
mephisto's baby daddy: Your location says you haven't left for work. Taking the day off? I hope you have plans to come over then. I'll plan a date for us.
11:18 AM
mephisto's baby daddy: Whenever you have a day off, you usually sleep in until 10:30. After that point, you are glued to your phone in bed for an hour. Your lack of a response is worrying me. Please let me know if you're all right. I'm coming to your place at 12:30 if you don't text me before then.
Sylus is typically a very go-with-the-flow person. Not much can get past his thick skin and aloof facade. Violence and turpitude are all a part of his world, and to survive, you need nerves of steel. The only thing to make him pace and sweat is you. He's been staring at his phone, waiting for a text from you like a dog waits for a bone. He's busied himself with mundane tasks like dusting his vinyls, organizing his closet, and even fixing one of Mephisto's wings. He's run out of idle activities to occupy his mind from you, and he's at his wits end. He collapses against his office chair, huffing as he checks the time.
11:36 AM
Fuck it.
He can't wait anymore. He shrugs on his blacker than onyx jacket, his helmet and keys barely making it into his hands as he rushes through his mansion. He's a blur of black and white as he makes it outside, his motorcycle barely purring to life before he takes off, the deafening roar of the engine making even his ears ring. As he flies through the streets of the N109 Zone to Linkon, all he thinks of is how he hopes you're okay.
12:04 PM
You are not okay. Your bed is littered with used tissues as you attempt to clear your nose from the suffocating feeling of congestion. You lay sprawled across your mattress, your limbs stretching to each corner of the bed. Your plush white blanket lies abandoned on the floor, along with several of your stuffed animals. You had tried to sweat the fever out, but it didn't work. If anything, it made it worse, your fever rising to an alarming 103.4° F. Any attempt at movement was a fruitless endeavor, your achy limbs and lightheadedness making even standing without support a difficult task. As you contemplated writing your will, you heard three firm knocks at your door. Your head snaps towards the sound, your skull threatening to split at the movement. After a moment of contemplation and dread, you force yourself to stand. Your body protests at each agonizing motion; any effort threatens to send you crashing to the floor. Stumbling to your door, you look through the peephole and nearly cry at the sight of that soft silver hair and those ruby eyes. Your shaky hands unlock your door, a sheepish smile breaking across your face as you meet his somewhat frenzied gaze.
"I didn't know you were coming over today." Your hoarse voice sounds unfamiliar to you, a deep rasp replacing your once smooth and tranquil cadence.
A beat of silence passes between you as you look up at him. It takes a moment, but you realize he's looking you over. Suddenly self-conscious, you shift on your feet as you realize how rough you must look. You discarded your pajama pants earlier, donning one of Sylus's shirts that he left here months ago. Your hair is a dishevelled mess, sweat dripping from your hairline and flushing your cheeks. Your nose feels irritated and is no doubt a deep red that you're sure rivals Sylus's pointed gaze.
"I sent you a few texts saying that I would be on the way." He leans against the door frame, his arms crossed over his muscled chest.
You curse internally.
"I'm sorry, I haven't looked at my phone today except to call out of work." You rub your temples, talking hurting both your head and throat. "I didn't mean to worry you."
He gives you a soft, knowing smile.
"I'm always worried about you." He states, as though it's obvious.
Sylus looks you up and down once more before bringing the back of his hand to your forehead. He hisses, holding it there for a moment before withdrawing.
"You're burning up. Come on, kitten. Let's get you in bed." He doesn't hesitate before scooping you in his arms, tucking you close to him. He kicks the door behind him as he makes his way through your apartment to your bedroom.
You want to protest, insist you're fine, come up with a snarky quip as you usually would, but you have no energy for it. Instead, you allow yourself to be vulnerable and burrow further into his warm embrace.
Sylus strolls in and sees the disheveled state of your room. Where pillows and blankets should be, tissues and cough medicine occupy. His heart gives a small pang as he thinks of you taking care of yourself.
"Sit here for a second, baby." He sets you down on a swivelling chair near your bed. His voice is soft and quiet, as if he knew that any excessive noise grated on your nerves. You sit, slightly confused as to why he set you down, before you realize he's going to pick up your mess.
"Sy, you don't have to do that." You begin to protest, feeling a bit embarrassed at him touching your used tissues.
He smiles softly, not listening to your objections as he continues to clean.
"I want to take care of you. Your comfort is my top priority." You can't say anything to that. His voice is so genuine that it makes your stomach flip.
Once he's done, he extends his hands out to you. You take them gratefully, allowing him to lead you to your now tidied-up bed. He tucks you in so you're fully enveloped by the thick blanket that once had a home on your wood floor. You're sure from his perspective, you resemble something of a cocoon.
You feel ridiculous.
"Have you had any medicine besides that cough syrup?" He asks, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. His calloused hands brush against your head, soothing your hair to bring you comfort.
It works.
You close your eyes as you soak in the feeling of his fingers against you. His touch was slow, gentle, and almost reverent. You opened your eyes to find him already staring at you.
"Nope. I couldn't find anything else." A soft laugh leaves your lips before you're ravaged by coughs. You sit up quickly, bringing your elbow to your mouth so you don't cough all over him. He rubs your back softly, his brows furrowed with worry.
"I'll be back." Sylus leaves the room in a hurry, not even giving you time to ask where he is going. You sniffle, sighing as you bring your knees to your chest and rest your chin against them. Fatigue works its way to your eyes, making you close them for some reprieve. You hear the clanging of metal and the rush of water after a few moments, and softly smile at the thought of such a large man fumbling around your small kitchen.
You're grateful that he's here.
12:29 PM
Sylus enters your room after a few minutes with a steaming mug.
World's Best Mom. Sylus thought he was so clever when he gifted that to you, calling you Mephisto's adopted mother. You'll never admit how dearly you love it, though some part of you feels he already knows.
You smile affectionately as you meet his eyes, reaching out your hands to grab the cup.
"I made you some tea. It will soothe your throat, kitten." He hands the mug to you, watching as you take a sip. Your face contorts as the sweet and hot liquid meets your tender throat.
"I know, baby, but you'll feel better after you drink. Bottoms up." He sits on the bed again, this time settling himself in it. He kicks off his shoes, curling up under the blanket with you. You continue to drink the tea in small sips, Sylus watching you the whole time. His fingers trace idle, mindless patterns over your arm, and you're not sure if the chills you feel are attributed to your cold or his touch.
He takes the mug from you when you take your last sip, setting it on the nightstand next to your bed.
"You should rest, kitten. I'll be in the living room, okay?" He presses a kiss to your temple, moving to get up, but you grab his arm before he can.
"Stay with me? Please?" His gaze pierces through yours, a moment of stillness passing as he weighs letting you rest peacefully or with him. Once he sees the look on your face, he realizes he could never deny you anything. He doesn't hesitate before lying back down and opening his arms to you. Your shoulders sag in relief, leaning back down and nuzzling your head into his chest as you get comfortable. His strong arms wrap around your waist as he cradles you, his cheek pressing against the crown of your head.
"Always." He whispers after a moment, rubbing small circles into your hip. The warmth and firmness of Sylus's embrace brings heaviness to your eyes, and sleep comes easily.
Throughout your semi-lucid rest, you feel Sylus come and go. One moment his hand is pressed against your forehead; the next, he's tucking you in. You feel as though you could cry; the act of being taken care of so intimate. He does it like it's as easy as breathing.
Maybe it is.
4:18 PM
A deliciously savory smell begins to waft through your apartment, the pungency waking you from your slumber. As you grogily wake up, your eyes squinting as you look around your room, you feel your stomach rumble. You pull your sweat-soaked sheets away from you and begin to stand. You still feel like shit, but resting definitely helped.
In your kitchen, you see Sylus tending to a pot on the stove. He's humming softly to himself, stirring occasionally. You stand there for a moment, smiling to yourself as you admire your lover.
"I could get used to this view." You tease, your voice still coming out a bit harshly.
Sylus stiffens a bit before his rich laugh bounces off the walls of the kitchen. It makes you feel warmer than your fever.
"I'll cook for you as often as you like." He muses, turning his back to the stove and facing you as you begin to approach him. You stop just a step away, looking up at him with both of your hands on your hips.
"Don't tempt me, Sy. I'll have you in here more often than you think." You grin at him.
"Mm. If that's the case, I'll invest in a 'Kiss the Cook' apron so I can at least get something out of it." His eyes twinkle as you banter with him. He's glad you're feeling better.
"You don't need one of those to get a kiss from me." You narrow your eyes at him, an incredulous look on your face.
"Oh, I'm aware." He grabs your hips, pulling you so you're chest to chest with him for emphasis. His eyes bore down into yours, a silent question waiting in them.
"Sylus, I don't want to get you-" You start before Sylus cuts you off.
"I don't care." He barely finishes before bringing his lips to yours. A soft sigh escapes him as he raises a shaky hand to cup your cheek. His mouth moves unhurried against yours, his lips holding a sort of tenderness that makes you weak in the knees. You bring your hand to tangle in his hair, tugging it back softly, which earns a light moan from him. He bites your lip, tugging it back and soothing it over with his tongue. His hands reach down to lift you by your thighs to sit on the counter. He stands between your parted legs, a hand on each knee.
"I missed you." He pants, breathless as he kisses down your neck.
You loll your head back as you soak up the feeling of his lips against your throat and collarbones.
"I missed you, too." You whisper back, feeling a different warmth beginning to spread through your body.
You bring his face back up to look at yours before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. You rest your forehead against his, your eyes closing shut as you try to catch your breath. Being sick makes it harder to kiss, it seems.
"I'm making you chicken noodle soup." He whispers after a moment.
You wink an eye open, huffing a laugh as you pull away and lean back against the cabinets behind you.
"You ruined the moment." You squint your eye at him, mock annoyance lacing your voice. You sit criss-crossed on the counter as he lets go of you and moves away to stir the simmering pot on the stove.
"It was on purpose. If I kept going, I wouldn't be able to stop." He says over his shoulder, his tone resembling a parent explaining something obvious to their child. You feel heat flush up your neck at his reasoning. You're not sure you would have been able to stop either.
"Smart. My body appreciates that; I'm not sure I have the stamina right now." You joke, staring at the back of Sylus's head.
He laughs an easy and languid laugh that brings a smile to your face. A few minutes of comfortable silence pass between you both, giving you a moment to rest your eyes. You open them up again only when you hear the opening and closing of cabinets and see Sylus pouring soup into two bowls. He sets them on the table near the kitchen and turns to approach you again.
"I hope you're hungry, kitten." He grins a boyish grin reserved only for you.
"Starved." You hum, slowly sliding off the counter and wobbily making your way to the table. He pulls your seat out for you, letting you sit before pushing you in. He takes up the spot next to you, disregarding his soup and taking yours in hand. He moves around the broth to cool it down, taking a spoonful after a few moments and blowing on it.
"Wait, are you going to feed me?" You raise a brow, genuine surprise lacing your features.
He quirks a brow right back at you, a "duh?" expression on his face.
"Yes? Don't even try to refuse me. I might take offense." He fails to suppress the smirk growing on his face as he lifts the spoon to your lips.
"Wipe that grin off your face." You grumble, opening your mouth to drink the soup. You hum as it meets your mouth, the broth thick and savory. He cools off another spoonful and continues to feed you until there is nothing left.
After the last bite, you lean back in your chair, patting your stomach with a sigh.
"You need a career change, Sy. You could make like a bandit as a chef." You affirm, appreciating the food he made for you. Seriously, he is a great cook.
"I already make like a bandit, sweetie. Besides, I'd rather be your personal chef. Should I start charging?" He questions with a smug expression, beginning to eat his own portion. You roll your eyes, resting your chin on your palm, admiring him as he eats.
"What will this meal cost me?" You inquire, humoring him for just a moment.
He contemplates for a moment, shoveling a spoonful of that perfectly hearty broth into his mouth.
"Just you getting better."
7:48 PM
Sylus ran out to grab some more medicine, despite your protests. The tea and soup he gave you have dulled a lot of the symptoms, the only ones that are persistently bothering you being your cough and congestion. Even now, as you sit in front of your TV hacking away and blowing your nose, you feel infinitely better than how you did before Sylus came over. You hear the door open and turn to find Sylus hauling multiple bags from the local pharmacy.
"Sylus! What is all of this?" You exclaim, sitting up on the couch and wondering what he could have even bought to bring multiple full bags.
"Necessities." He deadpans, dropping all but one of the bags on the coffee table in front of you. Tentatively, you begin to pull out the items, most of which are medicines for coughs and fevers. Coughdrops... honey sticks... electrolytes...You fight the smile threatening to break your face and opt to bury your face in your hands.
"You can be so sweet sometimes." You mutter, shaking your head in your hands.
Sylus beams, feeling a slight flutter in his chest at that.
"Mm. I'm sweet all the time, for you, baby. I'm sure I'll win some brownie points with this too..." You raise a brow as he pulls out your favorite ice cream from the mystery bag he was still holding. "I bought you some ice cream, since I figured you'd want something sweet. Your favorite."
You feel yourself getting a tad emotional. Thoughtful gestures, no matter how silly or unimportant they might seem, always mean the world. You open up your arms, inviting him into your embrace.
He walks over after setting the ice cream down and collapses on top of you. Your back hits the armrest of the couch, and you adjust yourself so he can slot his body between your legs. Your fingers tangle in his hair, twirling and idling with the moon-kissed strands. He lifts his head to look up at you after a relaxing moment, your lips finding his forehead. They linger there for a few beats.
"Thank you for taking such good care of me." You whisper, his gaze growing softer as it meets yours.
"I love you. It's easy." He whispers back.
You take a moment to admire him after his declaration. Bringing your head down, your lips meet his in a gentle caress. They dance around each other, exploring, tasting, appreciating. You hope he can feel what you're trying to say.
Loving him is easy, too.
9:21 PM
The rest of the night was spent on the couch, Sylus's weight on top of you providing a strange sense of comfort. You had shared the ice cream with him, even using the same spoon (much to your dismay).
"You're gonna get sick." You argued, holding your spoon out of reach.
"We've been kissing all day. If I'm going to get sick, it's already done." He refuted, finally grabbing the spoon from your hand and shoving the ice cream into his mouth.
You never win those types of arguments. Sylus's true superpower is his stubbornness. You could never stay frustrated, though, especially not now. You look down at him snoozing on your chest, your nails tracing random patterns across his back. He always looked beautiful, but in moments like this, where his face was unaccompanied by furrowed brows and scowls? He looked angelic.
You allowed the movie to finish before nudging Sylus softly.
"Baby, let's go to bed." You whispered, softly pressing your hand down on his back.
He winked an eye open slowly before closing it again and nuzzling further into you.
You almost laughed. Sylus loved to cuddle as much as the next person, but he had moments where all he wanted to do was stay attached to your hip. If he could crawl through your skin, you think he would.
"I would carry you to bed if I could, my love, but you're way too big." You tease softly, your hand continuing to soothe his back.
A beat passes.
"I feel like I should be offended." He mumbles, his voice raspy from sleep.
You shrug, a cheeky smile on your face.
"Let's go?" You try again and hear Sylus take a big sigh through his nose before getting up sluggishly. He sits on the couch for a moment as if trying to come back into his body. You wish you had your phone on you so you could snap a picture of his bed head and grumpy expression. You stand slowly, realizing you're feeling a lot better, and extend a hand to him. He stares at it, as if not processing that you want him to take it.
"Come on, you big baby." He takes your hand after a moment, shuffling his feet as he stumbles after you. You make your way to your bed, the darkness enticing you to rest. Sylus crawls into bed after you, quick to find your body and tangle your limbs together. You breathe in his scent as he envelops you tightly against his chest.
"Goodnight, kitten." He huffs, feeling relaxed with you in his arms.
"Goodnight, Sylus." You whisper, kissing his bicep and closing your eyes as sleep welcomes you once more.
A/N: While I was reading some other posts yesterday, I came across a user asking what it would be like to wake up next to Sylus. My imagination jumped on it right away! I would say this is more of a headcanon than a fanfic. I focused more how he would experience it. Short write, just because I'm working on other stuff.
Character: Sylus & Reader/MC/you
Genre: romantic, fluffy
Word count: 1,430 | Reading Time: 5 min | AO3
Background music
Your laughter echoes through his bedroom as you try to break free from his grip, his breath tickling your skin. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, pressing himself against your naked body. You smell incredible, so intoxicatingly good that waking up next to you must be heaven on earth.
You squirm and kick, already in tears from laughing so hard. He can't get enough of that sound, of the way you smile, the way you close your eyes and lean your head back. Your presence is like a flowerbed in full bloom, vibrant and breathtaking. Blooming in its full splendor.
Whenever he can, he admires you. When you sleep, he counts the moles on your body, tracing them with his fingertips. He caresses the scars you've earned as a fierce Hunter, kissing every natural fold of your skin. His touch follows the curve of your back, the delicate shape of your ass, down to your legs. The same legs that always wrap around him in the intensity of passion.
He loves you, more than he could ever show to you. It wouldn't be enough, ever.
"Sylus—" you gasp between laughs, struggling against him as your muscles start to cramp.
"You have so much energy, kitten" you keep laughing, you are so ticklish this morning. His nose brushes against your neck before he nips at your skin, placing lazy kisses along your shoulder.
You squirm even more, still breathless from laughter. "I will pee myself... Stop!"
He hums against your skin, only tightening his hold. He isn't really awake, he wants to keep sleeping, enjoying the peaceful morning with you. Sylus has worked hard to clear his schedule, to be with you like this. To adapt to your routine, make breakfast, and simply enjoy a normal day at your side.
"Then pee..." he teases.
"Gross! Let go." You protest, thoroughly disgusted by his suggestion.
"Not even in dreams, sweetie" he chuckles while still kissing your shoulder.
"Sy..." you whine. That tone, the way you try to get your way putting that face, that tone in your voice. The one that makes his heart melt no matter how much he tries to resist. He growls, reluctant to release you completely. His grip tightening for a moment before he finally exhales and relaxes.
"Go. You have 2 minutes to come back".
You waste no time jumping out of bed, only to earn a slap on your ass.
"Hey!" You spin around, shooting him a glare. Sylus only smirks.
"I like how it wiggles"
You disappear in the bathroom. Sylus shifts onto his back, crossing both arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling with a rare sense of peace. Yeah… he could get used to this. No, he wants to get used to this. The wealth he possesses and everything he has done has been nothing more than a way to ensure your safety. The years he spent searching for you taught him that he had to be prepared for anything. Losing you again was not in his plans. And if the day ever comes when you no longer love him, it won’t change a thing. He would still protect you, even from the shadows.
He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice you sneaking back into bed. Carefully, you inch closer, suppressing a grin as you reach out to poke his cheek. But before you can even make contact, his hand shoots out, catching your wrist in a firm grip.
"Feeling playful this morning, my love?"
"Just a bit" you smirk. Sylus laughed.
"What do you want to play?" You tilt your head, pausing deliberately as your eyes drift over his bare chest, trailing down to his toned abs. The sheets rest low on his hips, and the way you’re looking at him doesn’t go unnoticed. He knows that look.
With effortless ease, he shifts, pulling you toward him until you land on top of his body.
His fingers brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering. The color of your lips is already beautiful, but he loves it even more when they darken after passionate kisses. His lips part slightly, his gaze locked onto yours, mesmerized by the infinite depth of your shining eyes.
You lean in, pressing tender kisses across his face before finally finding his lips. Your entire body relaxes, melting into him. Savoring the slow movement of your mouth. Heat growing in your body. Between you two. The kiss deepens bit by bit, his tongue tracing your lips, later moving beyond, slipping inside, tasting you. You sigh into him, already lost in the spreading feelings of longing.
His hand has already trapped you. One sitting on your back, the other on your ass, keeping you close. He is getting harder by the second. His need for you is growing. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips grounding you in the moment. There is no rush, no urgency. You have the complete morning and day to melt in each other.
When he finally pulls away, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath is warm against your lips. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he exhales deeply. This is a dream, he thinks. A damn good dream. And he has no intention of waking up.
One hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. He doesn’t need to speak; everything he feels is in the way he looks at you, in the way he holds you like you’re something precious. You cover his hand with yours, pressing your cheek into his palm. A faint smile tugs at his lips before he kisses you again.
Sylus takes his time, enjoying how your body reacts to him, the quiet gasps, the way your fingers tangle in his hair. His name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper. He watches you with a quiet intensity, taking in the way you melt under his touch. The space between you disappears, lost in the unhurried way he moves. Once more, your worlds merge, your bodies speaking a language only the two of you understand.
That's how you start the morning: with him, with you, with nothing beyond these four walls mattering. Just the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of your hearts, and the love that neither of you needs to put into words.
Fluff fluff and more fluff! It's Sylus's turn to be loved on, so here ya go!
Concept: You visit Sylus at the base, only to find him asleep.
Tags: Tooth-rotting fluff, very soft Sylus, gn reader
Word Count: 1084
Masterlist
Pulling up to the mansion, you check your phone once again. No replies.
It wasn’t odd not to hear from Sylus for brief periods of time, so you really shouldn’t feel as disappointed as you do when the texts you sent don’t even show a read notification. He was a busy man, you fully understand but the pang of concern settled through you. He has been more busy as of late, meetings and auctions filling up his days, ones he wouldn’t tell you too much about.
God I hope he’s not hurt. I’m gonna kill him myself if he’s hurt and hasn’t said anything.
With a sigh, you open the door and walk into the Onychinus base. It was quiet, the large lobby showed no signs of anyone, darkness had already filled the space from the night settling in. You keep walking, searching for Sylus, or even the twins, anyone that can point you towards the man you’re searching for. You don’t see anyone as you wander the halls, eventually settling on searching the areas he frequents. You start off with his office, knocking lightly, only to be met with more silence. You peak in. Empty.
Next you wander to his bedroom, the large doors closed in front of you. Another knock sounds, and yet again, no response. You were a bit hesitant to open this door, Sylus liked his privacy, and while you knew you were the exception to that rule, you still paused before you popped your head in. No one in sight.
Maybe he’s out? I’ll just wait here for when he’s back. You thought, making your way to the living room to put your bag down. The silence was deafening, empty, and it made you miss Sylus so much more. It’s been a while since you last saw him, a few weeks at least, and while you still talked over the phone often, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough. You missed his warmth, his arms around you, the gentle kisses and, goddammit, even his teasing, not that you’d ever admit that to him. That’s why you were here, under the guise of getting information that was unavailable to you through the… less shady channels. You want to see him.
As you cross the threshold of the living room, the sight makes you stop in your tracks. And what a sight it was. On the armchair by the fireplace, there sits the man you were looking for, eyes closed, reading glasses slightly askew, a slight furrow in his brow. His silver hair is slightly messy, a book lay abandoned on his lap.
You can’t help but smile softly, your heart swelling with fondness. Even the big bad Onychinus leader could look gentle while he slept. You scan him for any signs of injury, satisfied when you don’t see anything.
Quickly depositing your bag and coat on the sofa, you grab the blanket settled on the backrest, carefully covering Sylus’s sleeping figure, removing the glasses before laying a light kiss on his forehead, soothing out the ever present furrow playing on his brow.
Standing back up to move away, you feel a tug on your hand, pulling you back down towards him. The tug was hard enough for you to lose your balance, falling onto Sylus’s lap, feeling thick arms pull you further against his chest. A gruff voice sounds above you, “Looks like a stray kitten snuck in while I wasn’t looking, going straight for a sneak attack.”
Crimson eyes squint open, a teasing glint playing across them, lips tilting up into a smirk. He looks… tired. His eyes are decorated with dark circles, an almost weariness evident in his features.
“Don’t you have a bed to sleep in? You’re gonna do your back in, sleeping like this.” You poke his cheek with your finger, rolling your eyes at the gentle teasing.
“And miss out on this special treatment?”
With a fond sigh, you sit up to face him, an unimpressed look pointed at him.
“You really should get some rest Sy, you look like you need it.” You caress his cheek with your hand, your thumb running under his eye. His eyes close as he nuzzles his face into your hand, placing a soft kiss on your palm. You feel him relaxing into you, a rare moment of vulnerability that only you are allowed to see. You move closer to him, laying a gentle kiss on his lips. His lips are smooth as they glide slowly against your own, a breath leaving him, arms bringing you even closer if that was even possible.
Pulling away, you litter small kisses across his face, on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and eventually leaving another peck on his lips. His eyes never left you as you move in on your attack, warmth shining through them, a small smile on his face.
“You’re being incredibly docile tonight.” Your voice is light, an amused tone shining through.
“I’m just letting you have your turn before I get my revenge.”
“How assumptious that I’ll let you get any form of ‘revenge’.”
“Oh? Kitten, you know I like a challenge.” Immediately the tables are turned on you, as he surges forward nuzzling into your neck, leaving quick nips and kisses across your collar bones leading all the way up to your ear, fingers dancing across your sides. You try to squirm away but the hold on you is like a vice keeping you in place.
“Stop! Sylus! It tickles!” Giggles spill out of your lips as you keep up your attempts to escape.
He doesn’t relent, huffing laughs into your neck, which only tickles you further.
“Okay! Okay! I surrender!” You laugh, pushing his face away from your neck. He stops his ministrations as he pulls you close once again. You lean into his chest, catching your breath. Silence settles around you, filled with contentment that seeps into the both of you.
“You know, I like having you here.” He says softly, after some time has passed.
“On your lap? I’m fully aware.”
“Yes, that. But also here, at the base. It makes me happy to have you here with me.” You don’t know how to respond, it’s rare to hear anything like this from Sylus, but the words fill you with a kind of warmth, swelling in your heart. You snuggle in further, nuzzling against his neck and leaving a soft kiss there.
I wrote this because I really needed to feel a little loved today and if a man isn’t going to do it, I’ll write it for myself. It’s deeply self-indulgent but this is the kind of love I want. Not just any love, but the kind that is all-consuming and unwavering. I’ve never been in love, nor have I ever truly felt loved and as I approach my 30s, I’m feeling it! Maybe this kind of love is unrealistic, maybe I’ve read too many stories that paint devotion in impossible hues. But if I were to be loved, this is how I would want it.
Sylus had always found the quiet unsettling.
His life had always been loud and chaotic, dangerous even. His past life, too, had been filled with sound, of dragon wings beating through the skies and fire roaring over cities. When those cities came for him, their shouts resonated through the air, filling his days with a cacophony that became his white noise, his comfort.
Now, the sounds of guns blazing and motorcycles purring were his norm. Days were his nights and his nights were chaos, loud chaos. He was used to it, thrived in it even.
Silence usually meant that something was wrong. That something was building and chaos would erupt soon. Silence was deadly.
But right now, in this moment, with you curled up against him, chest rising and falling, he thought maybe he could learn to love the quiet too. This moment of peace was far too precious, too perfect that he’d be willing to wage war on anything that dared to break the stillness.
Poor thing.
You’d fallen asleep so quickly, curled on his lap. Your body warm and trusting, your cheek pressed against his chest. He could feel the soft puffs of your breath against the skin bared beneath his robe, the way your fingers had instinctively curled around the fabric at his waist before going slack.
It was too much. Too tender. Too perfect.
His heart squeezed dangerously, threatening to burst with emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for milenia. Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.
His hand moved on its own, trailing down your spine, smoothing over the curve of your back, fingers brushing lightly over your hair.
Each tiny shift came with the softest little noises of contentment, sounds he wanted to bottle up and keep forever.
This is what love feels like.
He’d experienced it before, with you. Love that was shouted from rooftops, that set cities aflame and was declared loudly, passionately.
But this was something else. Quieter. Deeper. Unassuming. An entirely different kind of love to the ones he'd experienced before.
It crept up on him in the silence and wrapped itself around his heart, squeezing tightly, narrowing its focus to only you.
It wasn’t a sudden, violent force, like a city razed to the ground.
No, this was entirely different. It was the moment that lobster realised that the pot was too hot to survive, the only choice was to surrender.
And in the end, wasn’t that feeling of giving in a relief?
His throat tightened. His eyes stung.
Sylus exhaled softly, shaking his head gently. “You really do trust me, don’t you?”
The words were barely more than a breath, a desperate attempt to preserve the quiet of the room, but they made that grip on his chest tighten imperceptibly harder.
You had no idea what it meant, how it affected him, to have you like this. Warm and safe in his arms. Completely unguarded.
Completely his.
He scoffed lightly, remembering the way you had first met in this life. The fear, the hatred in your eyes, the anguish in his.
“You're impossible,” he murmured, his voice even quieter now, almost reverent. “You know that?”
You stirred slightly, nuzzling into his warmth, but didn’t wake.
“Of course you don’t. You have no idea.”
Another sleepy noise escaped past the pout of your lips, and he smiled, warm and soft.
A little while ago, Luke and Keiran had knocked on the door, the soft sound enough to make a frown crease between your brows. They’d entered to find a glare fixed on them, red piercing eyes telling them that whatever they had to say could wait.
They left quickly, smart enough to forget the sight before them.
Sylus’ fingers traced idle patterns along your arm, his touch featherlight.
You’d tell him off, if you were awake. Tell him to start his day. Order him to tend to Onychinus. You were so selfless, so giving. You’d put anything and anyone else before yourself.
Luckily, he had no such ideals.
Somewhere, far away, the world still existed. There were people waiting for him, needing him. Things that needed his attention, his approval. None of it mattered.
There was no past. No future. Just this.
Just the steady rhythm of your breathing. Just this moment, stretching infinitely, like a dream he never wanted to wake from.
He was selfish when it came to everything but you. And even then, he was still a little selfish.
He would keep anyone waiting, if it meant he got to hold you, like this. He’d run his business into the ground for the taste of your lips.
He had, and would again, raise entire continents to the ground to ensure your safety, uncaring of anyone that resided there.
Yes, he was selfish.
And he didn’t care.
A quiet sigh left him. He didn’t deserve any of this. Did he? He had ruined too much, burned too many things and left too many ghosts in his wake. Yet, here you were. Pressed against him, completely at ease.
His throat constricted. How? How could something as good as you ever belong in the arms of someone like him?
No he didn’t deserve it, but he would keep it anyway. A dragon’s nature was to hoard.
His eyes roamed your face, memorising everything. Each freckle. Each eyelash. The soft curve of your lips, parted just slightly with sleep. He reasoned that you had to have been made by some higher force. That somewhere, there was a god that claimed you proudly as their creation.
He was torn by that. By the idea that there was something or someone else out there that had a right to you. But you were a masterpiece and it was the only way you made sense.
So if there was a god, let them bear witness. Let them take notes. That his devotion, his heart was offered in quiet surrender to that creation. To you.
Slowl, with infinite care, he raised a hand to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb over your lips in a barely-there touch. Soft. Delicate. Sacred. He wanted to kiss you, but he wouldn’t. Not yet. He wouldn’t wake you.
Instead, he leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours, your breaths’ mingling, breathing you in. You smelled warm, like sleep and something sweet, something inherently you. He shut his eyes, just for a moment, letting the sensation settle in his bones.
And when he pulled back he just stared.
Memorising you. Worshipping you.
It had been a long time since he said those words to you.
Reluctant to break the sanctity of the precarious relationship the two of you had, he’d kept them inside. But here, in the hush of the night, with you deep in sleep, he could be honest in ways he never could before.
“You have no idea how much I…” He swallowed, tilting his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling, willing away the fullness that threatened to spill from his eyes. “How much I love you.”
A single tear dripped down his cheek, tracing a glistening path, evidence of his quiet confession.
His heartbeat increased, loud and strong in the quiet of the room. He willed it to still, wished he could make it stop beating lest it wake you from your slumber.
And then-
A sleepy hum.
A shift of your body.
And a murmured, drowsy, “Luh you too.”
His breath stopped.
You were barely conscious, probably didn’t even know what you were saying, but his chest ached all the same. A deep overwhelming ache.
He looked down to see your bleary, unfocused eyes gazing back at his. Heavy with lingering sleepiness and slow blinks.
Your hand cupped his face and swept away more tears that had fallen from his eyes.
Hands wrapped around his shoulders, holding him tightly, like you were afraid he would let you go.
Silly thing, he would never let you go.
Your head nestled into his neck and you pressed a soft kiss to his racing pulse.
“Love you, Sylus.”
His arms tightened around you in response, pulling you closer, needing the physical closeness to ground himself, to remind himself that this was real.
Your breathing deepened again, soft breaths tickling the skin of his neck in a way that promised he’d have a patch of condensation there in a little while.
He didn’t care.
“I love you too,” he whispered into the silence of the room.
His arms flexed around you slightly. His heart, beating a pattern just for you. A silent vow.
This, the two of you, would never be a fleeting moment. It wasn’t something he would allow to slip through his fingers like smoke, something he would lose in the chaos of the life he led.
No.
This was eternal.
He would build up a world from dust to ensure your place by his side. To keep you safe, protected, his.
No matter what happened, he would never let this go.
Never let you go.
And just like that, he let the silence have him.
➽──────────────────────────────────❥
Well, that was a diary entry disguised as a fanfiction. Enjoy 🥺
