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abyssyby · 14 days ago

Text

theory of mind

— marshmallows for everyo— oh! oh... poor papa. no sweeties for papa. ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: it's the marshmallow test with the littles, the bigs, and the big boss. i love the little twins so much theyre so so so fun to write. and how they just bring out this inner glow from sylus and trying to translate that glow EUGH so fun. i hope enjoy! ❀-urs

divider by @saradika-graphics 💕

important heads up for context of this story: lucian and kyros are (my headcanon) sylus's twin boys. 2 turning 3 years in this one! ᡣ𐭩

kieran, luke, lucian, kyros & sylus highlight! | sylus x reader | fluff, messy kids, mom!reader, suuuufferingdad!sylus, olderbrother!luke&kieran

“And— open!”

It’s supposed to be a test of empathy. Theory of mind, you read. And it led you to wonder to what capacity your little ones can feel for others. Have you raised them well enough to care for the people around them?

Kieran, Luke and Sylus lift the cloches off their plates. Sylus helps Kyros and Lucian remove theirs as well.

“Oh, marshmallows,” Kieran says, looking over to the others’ plates to see if they got the same thing.

“—matchallo!—“

“—sellows—“

“—mm, marf-marrow.”

Maybe doing this with five all at once wasn’t the best idea. You stifle a snicker as Sylus gives you a deadpan stare, as if to say, “really?”

“Oh—oh no! Papa doesn’t have one.” the words fight their way out from your throat against hiccups of giggles. The video definitely isn’t watchable at this point with all the shaking you’re doing.

The little twins, with two each, glance at their papa who sits between them. Sylus shrugs and leans back on his chair, “I don’t like sweets.”

“Papa.” Kyros says quietly, giving his one marshmallow, half mauled by his careful teething.

Sylus smiles gratefully, taking the sticky dessert from his fingers and kissing his brow. “Thank you, my Kyros— agh!”

“Papa, ah- ah, papa!” Lucian has stood on his chair, and stuck his tacky little palms on Sylus’s cheeks. He turns his father to face him and stuffs his half-eaten marshmallow in his mouth. You’re losing it behind the camera.

Sylus fights for his life to stutter out a response. His jaw pried open by tiny fists. “—cia-ffphrww- gen-gentle! Rewfian!” he sputters, mouth stuffed with candy.

Little uncoordinated fingers pull themselves out of Sylus’s mouth. Their owner wears a proud smile and watches as Sylus wipes away the gooey sugar on his lips. Bright scarlet eyes turn to you, to the camera. “Mama, i sharin’!”

You struggle through tears. “I know, baby. Good job!”

“Welcome. Papa—you welcome!” Lucian cheers, hopping on his chair, words joyfully yelled into his papa’s ear like saying it louder would make it mean more. Sylus bears down on the seat with his one arm to keep it steady, squeezes his eyes tight at the sound.

He gives Lucian a fond look, endlessly amused by his boy. “Thank you, Lucian.”

The big twins are too quiet. It’s an olympic sport at this point to keep yourself composed, stomach aching from the laughing.

Luke is the first to shrug, a refined picture of innocence… never mind the white coated fingers and the powder stained lips. He gestures to his (now) empty plate, saying, “I didn’t get any either.”

You snort and turn to Kieran. “and you?”

He stares at his brother in disbelief. Then thrusts an acccusatory thumb at Luke. He’d never admit it, but his sulky pout was caught clear and crisp on camera.

Ever perceptive, Lucian is quick to move, jumping off his chair and climbing Kieran’s lap. He must rectify this situation. Sticky fingers reach to touch his face, another half-molten treat in his hand. “Ah-ah, Kee-wan, ah!”

“No—no, thanks! I’m good!” Kieran catches the boy in his lap, dodging sugar-coated fingers with practiced grace and older-brother horror. Luke is in tatters, stomach bursting at the seams. Kieran cries out, “Lucian! I’m oka—mphrf.”

Meanwhile, Kyros has made his way around the table to you under the watchful eye of his papa. And he is tugging on your pant leg, offering you his other marshmallow. Gently destroyed as well, but the most pristine of all. “Mama, sellow.”

Your heart swells. You catch Sylus’s soft gaze from across the table and come to silent agreement.

Yes, you think. You have raised these boys well.

☽˚｡⋆ about the little twins | more sylus and little twins | little twins with big twins ⋆｡˚ ☁︎

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

thank you for reading!

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lyn31 · 29 days ago

Note

Do you mind if I request a pure fluffy oneshot about pregnant MC feels lonely since Zayne always busy at work where in fact, Zayne already planned a long holiday to take care of his pregnant wife?🥺🥺

Omg this is so cute! Thank you for the request/idea! I try my best for pure fluff! Hope it's what you're thinking of!

Lonely?

Summary

You thought you’d have to endure more lonely days, waiting for Zayne to come home late from work. He’s always been attentive, making sure you’re comfortable, checking in on your cravings, and doing everything he can to care for you—even from a distance. But it’s not enough. You don’t just want his care. You want him. And what you don’t realize is that he’s already made sure you won’t have to wait much longer.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader If you've been reading my stuff, you know I'm prone to getting carried away—but not too much this time! Anyway, pure fluff incoming!

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The morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the kitchen. The smell of coffee lingers in the air, mixing with the faint sweetness of whatever simple breakfast you managed to put together. Across from you, Zayne sits with his usual composed demeanor, sipping his coffee as he reads something on his terminal. He looks effortlessly put together, as always, dressed in his usual crisp attire, ready for another long day at the hospital.

You try not to pout. You really do.

But the disappointment settles in your chest before you can stop it.

It’s not like Zayne has been neglecting you—far from it. Even with his busy schedule, he still makes sure you’re eating well, checks in on your cravings, and finds small ways to take care of you. But it’s not the thoughtful gestures you want right now. It’s him. His presence. His warmth—well, as warm as he can be. You just miss having him by your side.

“Another long shift?” you ask, poking at your food without much enthusiasm.

Zayne glances up, his golden eyes calm as ever. “Hm?”

You roll your eyes. “At the hospital. You’ve been working late every day. It’s fine, I’m just asking.”

There’s no accusation in your tone, but you still feel a little guilty for even bringing it up. It’s not like Zayne is staying late for fun—he’s a doctor. His work saves lives. But still, a selfish part of you wishes he could just… be here.

Zayne sets down his coffee cup with a quiet clink, studying you for a moment. Then, instead of answering directly, he asks, “Did you sleep well?”

You huff. Typical. He always redirects the conversation back to you. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Back pain?”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

“Hm.” He reaches for a small dish beside him and slides it toward you. “I picked these up on the way home last night. You mentioned craving something sweet.”

You glance down, finding a delicate pastry, the exact kind you’d been wanting the other day. Your heart squeezes. See? He never forgets. But the ache in your chest doesn’t go away.

You pick it up, turning it slightly between your fingers before taking a bite. The flaky crust melts in your mouth, the filling perfectly sweet without being overwhelming. Exactly the way you like it.

Your mood should lighten. And in some ways, it does—just not the way you need. Zayne always remembers these little things, even when he barely has time to breathe.

You swallow, glancing at him as he returns his attention to his terminal, seemingly unbothered. Like picking up pastries at an ungodly hour just to make you happy is the most natural thing in the world.

Your lips curve slightly. “You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

Zayne hums, not looking up. “Do what?”

You gesture vaguely with the half-eaten pastry. “This. Bringing me things. You’re already busy enough.”

Finally, he meets your gaze. “It’s hardly an inconvenience.”

The words are simple, stated like a fact rather than reassurance. But you know what he means. If it’s for you, it’s never a burden.

The warmth in your chest grows, just enough to quiet the selfish ache—at least for now.

You take another bite, letting yourself enjoy the moment. Even if he has to leave soon, at least for now, he’s here.

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There’s not much to do when you’re off work and pregnant. Ever since you and Zayne found out, you’ve both been buried in pregnancy books, but now that you’re in your second trimester, there’s more waiting than anything else. At least your pregnancy has been on the milder side so far.

It’s not like he’s neglecting me. You keep telling yourself that, fingers absently tracing patterns against your stomach. He still calls. He still buys me whatever I want. I’m fine. The house is quiet—too quiet—and before you can stop yourself, your gaze flickers to the clock. I don’t need to be so clingy. But somehow, the weight in your chest doesn’t ease.

So here you are again, texting Tara and catching up on the latest gossip.

Tara: Oh, and get this—remember that newbie from last week? The one who swore up and down that they could handle a solo mission?

You: The one who nearly got flattened by a Normal Wanderer?

Tara: Yep. That one. Well, guess who had to bail them out today?

You: No way. You?

Tara: Of course me. Because someone didn’t read the mission brief properly and walked straight into a nest.

You: LMAO, you’re kidding.

Tara: I wish. I had to listen to them apologize every five seconds while I cleared the area. If I hear one more “I’m so sorry, Senior Tara” I might actually lose my mind.

You: Pfft. Sounds like a fun day for you.

Tara: Oh, absolutely. Thrilling. The highlight of my week, really.

You: LMAO.

Tara: Anyway, why aren’t you asleep yet? You need a lot of rest—you and the baby, that is.

You: I’m waiting for Zayne to get home 🥺

Tara: Eh? He’s not home yet?

You: He’s supposed to be, but there was an emergency he had to take care of 😩

Tara: Well, that’s rough. But still, don’t you see him when he gets home anyway?

You: Barely. I keep falling asleep early 🫠 And now, for the morning I keep waking up later and later… Damn hormones, I swear to god.

Tara: LOL, what can you do? It is what it is. Just don’t stay up too late!

You sigh, tossing your phone onto the couch beside you. Just this once, you want to stay awake—just to see him properly, not only in passing before he leaves for work.

“I get it. He’s busy. I shouldn’t complain.” The words come out light, almost dismissive, but your fingers catch on the hem of your sleeve, twisting the fabric between them. Even saying it out loud doesn’t make it feel any less hollow.

And, of course, your body has other plans. Because when you open your eyes again, it’s morning.

You're no longer on the living room sofa but tucked into bed instead. The sheets are smoothed around you, and the weight of a blanket drapes comfortably over your body. A pillow has been carefully adjusted against your belly, positioned just right to relieve any strain.

You groan into your pillow, frustration muffled against the fabric. You missed him again—just like every other night these days.

A cool, gentle touch lands on your shoulder.

You peek up, already knowing who it is.

“Are you feeling any discomfort?” His tone is clinical, but the concern beneath it is unmistakable.

Zayne is crouching beside the bed, his hazel eyes level with yours. Dressed in his usual crisp attire, he looks as composed as ever.

You shake your head, your voice still heavy with sleep. “No, I’m good. I just keep missing you coming home.” You pout without meaning to.

Zayne leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, then another to your temple. “Sorry.”

Your heart squeezes. A tiny, selfish part of you wanted him to feel bad for leaving you behind so often. But not like this.

You shake your head, frowning. “What are you sorry for? It’s your job—just like when I get emergency calls for Wanderers, remember? I understand.” You smile, actually meaning it.

Zayne takes your hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing your palm. “You won’t have to miss me for much longer.”

You blink. What?

But before you can question it, a thought occurs. Right. He’s probably pushing himself harder just to get home earlier.

You huff. “Just don’t overwork yourself, got it?” You reach up and pinch his cheek lightly.

Zayne merely hums, his lips twitching slightly before he leans down, pressing another quick kiss to your lips. Then, he stands. “I made breakfast. If you’re ready, I can help you get up.”

You narrow your eyes at the curve of his lips, recognizing the teasing edge in his voice.

Still, you reach for him anyway, stretching out both hands toward him. “Well, husband, help your wife up, then.”

His low chuckle is your only warning before he pulls you into his arms with practiced ease.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Take care, Mrs. Li.”

You reply with a smile, “You too.”

The person—whom Zayne hired at the start of your pregnancy—gives you a polite nod before stepping out, leaving your home spotless as always.

Honestly, sometimes your husband is even more dramatic than you. It’s sweet that he refuses to let you lift a finger, but now you’re left with nothing to do. The house, now silent and empty, feels even bigger than usual.

You huff, shaking off the creeping loneliness. You could dwell on it… or you could find something to entertain yourself with.

Speaking of entertainment, Zayne should be on his break around this time.

So, of course, you text him.

You: Zaaaaayyyneeeeee.

Mine♥️: Yes? Did something happen?

You: Send me your selfie ☺️

Mine♥️: My selfie? How about you send me yours first?

Did he just? This man, you swear. You shake your head grinning while you type your reply.

You: Hey! I say it first! The baby’s asking.

You can practically see Zayne’s deadpan stare through the screen, and the thought alone makes you giggle.

Mine♥️: The baby is asking?

You: Yes. The baby wants to see their dad’s face 🥺

You stare at your screen, waiting, watching the three little dots appear… then disappear. Then appear again. Then disappear.

You know he’s hesitating.

Mine♥️: That doesn’t sound medically accurate.

You snort, already imagining his flat expression.

You: Wow. Are you denying your child’s request? How could you, Dr. Li?

Silence.

Then, finally—a new message arrives.

It’s an image.

You open it eagerly, only to burst into laughter.

It’s exactly what you expected. A slightly blurred, poorly angled selfie, as if he took it at the last second just to shut you up. His expression is his usual composed neutrality, though you can see the faintest arch of his brow, like he knows this is ridiculous but indulges you anyway. The lighting is terrible, half his face is cropped out, and yet—it's still unmistakably him.

You: LMAO, Zayne, still?? Are you sure you know what that is?

Mine♥️: A selfie.

You: This is a crime against photography.

Mine♥️: You asked. I delivered.

You can’t stop grinning. Even with his reluctant participation, it’s these little moments that make you feel closer to him, even when he’s away.

You: Fine, fine. You win. But I’m adding this to my Zayne’s selfie collection.

Zayne doesn’t reply immediately, but when he does, it’s only two words.

Mine♥️: Of course.

And maybe it’s just your hormones, but somehow, that single message makes your heart flutter a little too much. After a beat he sends you another text.

Mine♥️: Now, where’s mine?

You debate teasing him for a few seconds, but you’re feeling generous, so you take a picture of yourself, angling a bit to show you holding your baby bump, and winking at the camera. Then you send it.

Mine♥️: Perfect.

You stare at the screen, re-reading his response. Perfect.

It’s such a simple word. Just one. But somehow, it makes your chest feel warm and achy all at once.

You puff out a breath, suddenly feeling ridiculous. Why is this making you emotional? It’s not even that serious. It’s just Zayne being Zayne. Calm, composed, and effortlessly sweet in that way of his.

But then you glance back at your own selfie—the one with your baby bump in clear view—and your eyes start to sting.

He thinks you’re perfect. Just like this.

Hormones. It has to be the hormones.

You sniff, rubbing at your eyes, and quickly type back before you can get any more sappy.

You: I’ll let you have that one, Dr. Li. Just this once.

His reply comes instantly.

Mine♥️: I appreciate the honor.

You roll your eyes, but you’re still smiling. Even if you feel lonely right now, at least moments like this remind you—Zayne is still with you, no matter the distance. And yet, no matter how sweet these moments are, the ache of missing him doesn’t go away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another morning dawns, light filtering softly through the curtains, painting everything in a muted golden hue.

You wake up feeling... off. Not upset, not really, but there’s a quiet heaviness in your chest, a weight of reluctance. Maybe it’s just that your bed is so comfortable, or it’s the cool presence beside you—one you know will be gone in just a little while.

Zayne is still half-asleep, his breathing slow and steady. The moment you shift closer, he stirs. He doesn’t say anything, but his fingers find their way to your hair, smoothing down the strands with that same absentminded gentleness he always has.

You press your face against his shoulder, sighing. Just a few more minutes. Just a little longer before the day starts and he leaves again.

But time moves too fast. Before you know it, he’s getting up, moving through the familiar motions of getting ready. You stay in bed longer than usual today, even though you’re already awake, not feeling like facing the day just yet, but eventually, you shuffle out of the room, just in time to see Zayne placing the food on the table.

He glances up when he notices you. “Come sit. You need to eat.”

You hum noncommittally but let him guide you to your chair. Breakfast is warm, comforting—just like always. You eat quietly, and while Zayne doesn’t comment on it, you know he notices. He always does.

And now, here you are, standing at the front door, watching him as he prepares to leave for yet another work day. You keep your expression neutral. Or at least, you try. But it must show anyway, because as Zayne smooths out his sleeves, then glances at you. “You won’t be waiting much longer.”

You blink. “Huh?”

He tilts his head slightly, as if this should be obvious. “Today is my last shift before my extended leave starts. I’ll be home starting tomorrow.”

Your brain stalls. You just stare at him, completely thrown. The words don’t quite register at first, like your mind refuses to take them in all at once, because—what?

You open your mouth, then close it again, struggling for words before finally managing— “You’re…staying home starting tomorrow?” The words come out small, hesitant, like you’re scared to believe them. But the look on Zayne’s face—calm, assured, like this was never even a question—makes it all too real.

Then the realization crashes into you, and before you even know it, your eyes burn—tears spilling over, completely unprompted, catching even you off guard.

Zayne’s expression shifts in an instant. His hands reach for you immediately, one settling on your back, the other tilting your chin up so he can study your face. “What’s wrong?” His voice is calm, but you can hear the thread of concern beneath it. “Are you in pain?”

You shake your head rapidly, even as another choked-out laugh bubbles up between your tears. “No, I just—” You sniffle, gripping onto his coat.

His touch is gentle as he tilts your chin up again, but before that, his thumb brushes the corner of your eye, catching a tear before it can fall. He exhales softly, barely more than a breath, and murmurs “No tears, love.” low and steady, as if grounding you with just his voice.

And that you make your tears flow even more. “I’m just really happy. And I feel ridiculous. Oh my god, I can’t stop crying—”

Zayne blinks, still looking slightly lost. But he tightens his hold on you, shifting slightly to the side so he doesn’t squeeze you or the baby, his hand stroking your back in slow, steady motions. Then, as if something clicks, he exhales softly. “Didn’t I already tell you? That you wouldn’t have to miss me for much longer?”

You let out a hiccup, still clutching his coat. “You were being vague! I thought you meant coming home earlier or something!”

His lips twitch slightly—amused, but choosing not to show it too much for your sake. “I see. My mistake.” He presses a kiss into your hair, exhaling a quiet chuckle. “You think I’d leave you lonely if I had a choice?”

You huff, burying your face against his chest. Zayne lets out a quiet breath before wrapping his arms securely around you. “And you’re not ridiculous,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “But you do need to breathe.”

You let out a watery laugh. “I am breathing.”

“Barely.” He smooths a hand down your back, his voice quieter now. “You really missed me that much?”

You nod against his chest. “Yeah. I really did.”

Zayne says nothing for a moment, just holds you there, his grip firm and steady. And then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, he says, “Then I’ll make up for all of it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed by just how much you love this man. “You’re not allowed to leave me for even a second, you hear me?”

You pull back just enough to glare at him. “Zayne.”

A pause. Then, so casually, “That might be difficult. What if you need to use the bathroom? You don't usually let me follow you there.”

“Hm?” His expression is calm, but you can see the slightest glint of amusement in his eyes now.

“You’re ruining the moment.”

Zayne hums, entirely unbothered. “I thought I was making it memorable.”

You sniff, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re so lucky I love you.”

“I know.” He smooths his hands down your sides one last time before stepping back, adjusting his coat. “Now, go inside. You shouldn’t be standing out here too long.”

You cross your arms, still pouting. “Fine. But you better come home on time.”

Zayne lifts a brow. “I always do.”

“Liar.”

He exhales through his nose—just barely amused—before leaning in, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you tonight.”

And with that, he turns, heading off without another word. You linger for a second longer, watching him go before finally stepping inside.

By the time evening comes, the moment Zayne steps inside, you immediately cling to him. His hands settle at your waist, steadying you, and just when you’re about to pull back, he shifts his grip—lifting you effortlessly.

“Zayne! Are you insane? Put me down! I’m the weight of two people!”

“This is why I work out,” he replies smoothly.

“You were cooking?”

You gape at him before bursting into laughter. He just walks, carrying you as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, before gently setting you down on the living room sofa. Crouching in front of you, his eyes flick toward the kitchen, probably catching the scent of the food you just finished making. One brow lifts.

“I’m pregnant, not invalid.” You challenge his stare with a pointed look.

He exhales, clearly holding back a remark, then concedes with a small nod. “Alright then. Do you want to eat first?” He asks, even though he already knows your answer.

Now that your mood feels much lighter, you flash him a sweet smile. “I’m eating with you, obviously. Speaking of, husband…”

You toy with his collar, dragging a finger slowly down his chest. Zayne watches you with a suspicious gaze.

“Do you want to eat first, take a bath, or…” You drag out the words teasingly. “Me?”

You wink, fully expecting him to scoff. And he does—but not before his eyes flick down to your breast, then back up. The way his gaze darkens for half a second makes your breath hitch.

Then, without missing a beat, he says, “You first, then.”

“What?” You laugh, eyes widening as he shifts to sit beside you, pulling you against him. His cool breath brushes against your skin, lips grazing the curve of your neck.

“You asked, darling.”

And just like that, the day ends in the most perfect way possible.

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Notes

Hehehehehe 😳 sorry ahahahaha love how this turn out actually, gosh they're so cute 🫶🏻😩🥹 This is ended up connected ahaha either way, if we're going for chronological order here it is: (this is part 2) more like a snippet (smut) part 0 part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 (smut at the end)

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