Notes: Caleb has an older son and a younger daughter
Caleb is very, very involved with his family.
As a bare minimum, of course he knows what his kids' allergies are, their grades in school, their favorite and least favorite foods, goes to every sports meet and show, and he knows about their favorite shows and books.
And he knows every single meme they bring up.
Caleb Xia, such a hardass at work, incredibly strict, and almost cruel to anyone who crosses him... imagine what his coworkers would think when they see him outside of the fleet on the weekend with his family when he's in a shirt that says "C.H.U.D." and 6-7s with his kids in grocery store parking lot.
I do think he'll cling on to some traditional values. His son is the protector, soon-to-be the man of the family, and his daughter is the "protected." But their mother is a high-level Hunter, so you encourage them to break the mold if they wish.
However, no matter what, his kids better know how to cook and clean.
Every single meal he makes and every single packed lunch looks like they belong in food magazines. Especially when his kids were younger, he'd make rice balls that resemble their favorite characters and animals, make roses out of radishes or avocados, etc. It's a spectacle every time his kids open their lunch boxes in the middle of class.
Every single lunch box always has a new note every day, either with a dad-joke, a science fact, encouragement, or simply saying, "Papa loves you."
To him, it's the ultimate honor that his family eats his food and only his food. It might be near Michelin star-level, but when his kids were little tots, they didn't care about how organic, how premium, how tasty it was, they just wanted McDonald's like what they saw on TV or with their friends.
Sure, he'll give them McDonald's, Jollibee, Pizza Hut, etc. whenever they ask for it. (He spends weeks buying from these fast food places in secret, saving and cleaning the packaging until he can recreate his own, testing and trialing recipes until he develops a one that's 10x better than the original, and gives them "McDonald's" that looks exactly like the ads.)
There are several days a year where his kids and you aren't allowed to have any other plans: that's the birthdays, some major holidays, and...dumpling day and pickle day.
He's making enough food to last for a whole quarter of a year at the least, and spends weeks before preparing for it, going to wet markets with you and the kids in tow to carry all the bags, haggling with the aunties and uncles for the best deals, and even arranging shipments to your house.
The aunties and uncles drive hard bargains, but are willing to throw in freebies every now and then because "he has such a beautiful family."
Then, with C-dramas (watching the 100th cold CEO and poor working girl plotline that month) playing in the background, you all have to spend hours chopping veggies, making several different dumpling fillings, and folding over 1000 dumplings before they go in the freezer or are shared with neighbors and friends.
Not to mention the many pickle jars he has with brines starting even before his children were born.
His kids know it's the weekend when they'll wake up in the morning to the sound of the vacuum running with songs from their parents' youth playing.
His kids always cringe whenever he wears that stupid "Kiss the Cook" apron and asks for his "payment" whenever you walk by.
How gross, aren't you guys too old to be doing this? they ask.
Every single corner of his house, it has something to do with you or the kids: marks on the door to measure their heights, every trophy they've won, and hundreds of photo frames of you and your family all throughout every room.
After your marriage, you begged him to stop with the surveillance and tracking, which he did do... But instead he raised his kids to be your personal keepers, and he's part of the neighborhood housewife community and has them reporting on you too 💀💀
I think a foursome with Zayne, Valko, and Caleb would fix me. And after we're all fucked out, these three nerds will cuddle me in bed and talk geeky science shit with me and each other before we all fall asleep.
Summary: On paper, Zayne was the perfect husband. Attentive, kind, successful. But whenever he was around MC, he looked at her like she was the centre of his world. And that raised the question. What in the world were you - his wife - supposed to be?
Pairings: Non MC x Zayne, MC x Sylus, Blythe x Caleb
Tags: Angst, hurt, comfort, MNDI, soft smut, piv sex, AU, no evol, the LADS are in their 30s, it gets worse before it gets better, emotional infidelity
Word count: 5.5k
A/N: I'm back! Thought about posting this tomorrow, but I have no patience! Hope that I didn't miss any mistakes, hehe.
This chapter is a deep dive into MC's POV. She is not necessarily a bad person, but she is careless and selfish. I like the idea that it is not just Sylus that starts changing her, but also the women around her, like Blythe and the Reader.
Hope you enjoy! 💖💖 Like it? Hate it? Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! Also, consider reblogging so this story gets seen by more people!
Dividers by @orieriee and @diviniyae
Growing up, MC was never truly alone. She had Caleb, of course. He was her brother, her protector, and her closest confidant. He was the kind of big brother other girls could only dream of. He’d brush her hair, help her with her homework, and carry her when she was too exhausted to walk, or, more accurately, when she just couldn't be bothered.
Then there was Zayne. Brilliant, intuitive, and effortlessly perfect at everything he attempted. The kind of boy that others would be willing to walk on hot coals to befriend.
MC recognized that she wasn’t uniquely gifted. She wasn’t great at school or sports. She had her charms, but she knew that she wasn’t breathtakingly beautiful. Just pretty, cute and pushy in a way others found attractive. However, she possessed a far more useful talent. An innate ability to draw in people who were remarkable. She never needed to excel because she had a circle of exceptional friends willing to handle the world for her.
Caleb and Zayne were beautifully transparent. She knew exactly which strings to pull to make them anxious, angry, thrilled, or content. A single sentence from her could leave them entirely speechless or make them blush on command. It was a subtle, intoxicating power, and she thrived on the rush it gave her. She loved them both, yet she loved neither of them. Deep down, she knew she was selfish, perhaps even a bit cruel, but she rarely paused to dwell on it. To the outside world, she was just an innocent, sweet girl who easily charmed everyone she met.
Then Sylus disrupted the perfect little life she’d created. He was everything her usual companions were not. Worst of all, he saw right through her carefully crafted mask, and that stripped away her control.
Their first encounter happened as she walked out from a shop to her motorcycle. A remarkably tall, strikingly handsome man was leaning casually against it, looking relaxed and entirely at home.
"Excuse me?" MC frowned, stopping a few paces away and cocking a hip. "Just what do you think you're doing?"
"Waiting for the owner," he replied, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered.
"Well, you're looking at her."
"You blocked my car."
"You have plenty of space to—oh." She cut herself off, glancing past him. She actually had pinned him in. "Right. Well... Sorry about that. I'll move it."
"Thank you."
Somehow, the calm, measured tone of his voice made her want to be intentionally difficult. She scowled.
"Do you always have such an attitude?" he asked. A faint smile touched his lips as she deliberately brushed past him to grip the handlebars.
"Yep."
"Hm. Then I suppose I will have to get used to it."
"No, you won't," she countered, straddling the seat. "Because I'm not planning on ever seeing you again."
"Are you certain I can't convince you to have dinner with me?"
Damn, his eyes were hypnotic. She looked away, hating how nervous she felt.
"I don't eat dinner."
"Ever?"
"I don't eat dinner with condescending asses."
"Sylus."
MC blinked, looking up to meet his gaze. "What?"
"My name is Sylus," he repeated patiently.
"Whatever," she muttered, kicking the engine to life to drown him out and getting away from him as fast as she could.
That encounter was only the beginning of a string of suspicious coincidences. Suddenly, Sylus was inescapable. No matter where she went in the city, she caught fleeting glimpses of silver hair and sharp, crimson eyes in the crowd. It irritated her to her core. It absolutely thrilled her.
Two weeks later, MC was sitting in the corner booth of a dimly lit, high-end cafe, waiting for Caleb. She had her phone out and was scrolling idly through her photos.
Then the bell above the door chimed and a sudden shift in the room's atmosphere made her look up.
Sylus walked in.
He wore a tailored black coat that made him look even broader and more imposing than before. It seemed like every patron at the cafe took notice. Conversations quieted and the barista instantly straightened up. Sylus didn't look around the room. He didn't need to. His crimson eyes locked directly onto MC’s booth as if he had tracked her there.
Before she could pack her things to leave, he slid effortlessly into the empty seat directly across from her.
"We meet again," Sylus said, leaning back and resting his arm along the top of the leather booth. "What a truly fascinating coincidence."
MC slowly set her phone down on the table. She forced a sweet smile onto her face. It was the exact expression that usually made Caleb or Zayne soften instantly. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm actually waiting for someone. I'd appreciate it if you found another table."
Sylus didn't blink. He just stared at her, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading across his face.
"Save the performance," he murmured, leaning forward. The warmth of his breath cut through the cool air between them. "The sweet and cute routine works on the others, I'm sure. But you and I both know you're looking for a certain reaction. And you're not going to get that one from me."
MC’s smile dropped instantly. Her eyes narrowed, the mask slipping. "You are incredibly arrogant."
"I am. And observant too," Sylus agreed smoothly. He tapped a finger on the tabletop. "You like being the one in control. You like knowing exactly what makes men tick. But you can't figure me out, can you? And it’s driving you crazy."
She wanted to slap him. She wanted to storm out. But deep down, a dark, wicked spike of adrenaline shot through her veins. He was right, and the fact that he dared to say it out loud was the most exhilarating thing she had felt in years.
"You don't know anything about me," she hissed, leaning in closer so that the people sitting at the surrounding tables couldn't hear.
"I know enough to get the picture," Sylus replied softly, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. He stood up just as quickly as he had sat down, tossing a sleek black card onto the table in front of her. "Call me when you're tired of playing safe with boys who only see what you let them see. Let's find out what happens when you play with someone who knows exactly what you are."
He turned and walked out, leaving her staring at the card with a racing heart and a furious, thrilled smile she couldn't quite hide.
The bell above the door chimed again, shattering the tense silence Sylus had left behind.
MC quickly snatched the sleek black card from the table, slipping it into her pocket just as Caleb walked into the cafe. He was scanning the room, his expression relaxing the moment his eyes landed on her.
"Sorry I'm late, pips," Caleb said, jogging over and sliding into the seat Sylus had vacated only moments before. He reached across the table, playfully messing up her hair. It was a familiar gesture that usually made her roll her eyes affectionately but just made her annoyed now. "Traffic was a nightmare. Have you been waiting long?"
MC forced her standard, sweet smile back onto her face, but her heart was still hammering against her ribs. "No, not long at all. Just a few minutes."
Caleb’s smile faltered slightly. His protective instincts were razor-sharp, honed by years of catering to her every whim. He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he scanned her face. "Are you okay? Your cheeks are flushed. And you look… Did someone bother you while I was gone?"
"No," she said, her reply a little too quick. "No one bothered me."
Caleb didn't look convinced. He glanced around the cafe, his posture subtly stiffening as he looked for any potential threats. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Or like you're about to punch someone. If some guy was hitting on you—"
"Caleb, I'm fine," she interrupted, putting on her best innocent, tired pout. She reached out and lightly touched his arm, knowing exactly how to redirect his focus. "I just didn't sleep well last night. Can we just get some food? I'm starving."
The pout worked perfectly. Caleb’s defensive posture melted instantly, replaced by the familiar, easy-to-manage warmth she was so used to exploiting. "Yeah, of course. This place doesn’t look that good, though. Let's get out of here. I'll buy you whatever you want."
He stood up and reached for her bag, carrying it for her without her even having to ask. MC followed him out, playing the part of the pampered, grateful little sister perfectly. But as they walked out into the cool air, her fingers subconsciously traced the sharp edges of the black card hidden in her pocket.
Caleb was safe. Caleb was easy. But for the first time in her life, easy was starting to feel incredibly boring.
That evening, MC found herself sitting in the quiet, sterile atmosphere of Zayne’s office. He was finishing up his final patient charts for the day, his focus entirely consumed by the glowing monitor.
MC sat on the edge of his examination table, swinging her legs idly. On the outside, she looked as if she was simply waiting patiently for her brilliant childhood friend to finish his work so they could catch a late movie. On the inside, her mind was a chaotic mess, the heavy black card in her pocket reminding her of the man that shook her to the very core.
Zayne finally closed the laptop. He removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking over at her. His gaze was steady, piercing, and entirely clinical. He had known her for too long, and while Caleb noticed her moods, Zayne noticed her micro-expressions.
"You're quiet tonight," Zayne observed, his voice deep and measured as he stepped closer. He reached out, his cool fingers gently pressing against the side of her neck to check her pulse.
MC didn't pull away. She leaned into his touch, tilting her head up with a soft, practiced gaze. "Just tired. It's been a long day."
Zayne’s thumb stroked the line of her jaw. His expression remained entirely neutral, but his thumb lingered a second too long—a subtle giveaway of the control she usually held over him. "Your heart rate is elevated. Your pupils are slightly dilated. You aren't tired. You're agitated."
MC smirked inwardly. She loved how easy he was to read beneath that icy exterior. "Are you diagnosing me, Doctor Li?"
"I am observing you," Zayne corrected, his eyes narrowing slightly as he picked up on the faint, mocking edge in her voice. "Caleb mentioned you seemed off at the cafe earlier. He thought you were upset. But I think you're hiding something."
He leaned in a fraction closer, his presence commanding and protective, yet entirely predictable to her. He was waiting for her to confess. They had their roles to play when it came to these encounters. He wanted be her shoulder to lean on. The one who’d figure her out when others couldn’t. And her role in this was to let him think that he could.
"I'm not hiding anything, Zayne," she murmured softly, letting her voice drop to that sweet, vulnerable pitch that always made his icy demeanour thaw. "Can't I just want to spend time with you without being examined or interrogated?"
Zayne stared at her for a long moment. A faint, almost imperceptible softening appeared at the corners of his eyes. He sighed, dropping his hand from her face. "Fine. But if something is troubling you, you tell me. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," she smiled, sliding off the table.
As she walked ahead of him toward the door, her smile faded into a bored line. Zayne’s analytical mind was impressive, but he was still fundamentally blind to who she actually was. He saw a fragile girl who needed looking after and fixing.
She reached into her pocket, her fingertips grazing the embossed name on the card: Sylus. Zayne and Caleb were a beautifully constructed safety net, but Sylus was the chaos that she actually craved.
And so two days later she called him. One meeting became two. And the thrill of seeing him kept her coming back. For the first time in her life she didn’t tell Caleb or Zayne. She cradled the secret close to her heart and kept it safe from the world. But she knew that she’d eventually have to tell others. Except she didn’t want her adoptive brother or her best friend be the first ones to know. She wanted to practice on someone who wasn’t so emotionally invested when it came to her.
The opportunity to confide in someone arrived entirely by accident. MC was sitting at an outdoor terrace downtown, nursing an iced coffee, when she caught that undeniable flash of silver hair across the street. Sylus was stepping out of a sleek, black SUV that clearly belonged to someone else. He didn't see her, but the sheer presence he commanded pulled her eyes straight to him.
"Is that who I think it is?"
She jumped, nearly spilling her drink.
“Oh hi!” MC looked up to find Blythe, Caleb’s girlfriend, standing beside her with a raised eyebrow. “Yep, just chilling on my own. The city is getting so hot these days! You know how it is!”
What were the words that were coming out of her mouth? MC took a very purposeful sip of her coffee so she wouldn’t say anything else.
“Sure. Mind if I sit? My legs are killing me.”
Blythe had a ton of shopping bags with her which she tried to arrange neatly under the small table. Whilst the other woman picked up the menu, MC found her attention and her eyes drifting in another direction.
Blythe frowned when she realised MC was not responding to her question about desserts and followed MC's intense gaze.
Realizing she had been caught staring, MC quickly grabbed her own menu with slightly sharing fingers.
"Who is that?" Blythe asked, crossing her arms as she glanced at the towering, sharply dressed man who was now speaking to someone in a tailored suit. "He looks like he owns half the city, or at least a highly illegal part of it."
MC bit her lip, her mind racing. For the first time the urge to talk about the storm brewing in her life was so overwhelming that talking about it to just about anyone would do. "His name is Sylus. We... keep running into each other."
"Sylus?" Blythe repeated the name. "And what exactly does a guy like that do?"
MC’s mouth felt a little dry. Blythe was not Caleb. MC knew that the other woman didn’t like her or her antics, hating how Caleb would just drop everything in an instant to come running to help his sister. Although, admittedly, it happened less and less nowadays. Between his genuine feelings for his girlfriend and Blythe’s no-nonsense attitude, MC found herself on her best behaviour.
Panicking under Blythe’s sharp gaze, MC blurted out the first ridiculous thing that came to mind. "He’s a fruit vendor. He... wholesale distributes organic produce. Exotic fruits. That's why he's always driving around and meeting up with people!"
Blythe stared at MC. Then she looked across the street at Sylus, who was currently buttoning a designer coat, his crimson eyes gleaming even from a distance as he handed over a briefcase.
Blythe looked back at MC, her expression deadpan. "A fruit vendor. Right. MC, that man is wearing a watch that costs more than most people’s houses. He is absolutely not selling pineapples."
MC flushed, realizing how terrible her lie was. She reached across the table and grabbed Blythe’s hands, dropping the act entirely. "Look, it doesn't matter what he does. The point is, Caleb cannot know about him. At all. If Caleb finds out some dangerous-looking guy is constantly showing up around me, he will lose his shit. Please, Blythe. Don't tell him."
Blythe’s expression shifted from amused scepticism to deep annoyance. She slowly pulled her hands away from MC's grasp.
"Are you serious right now?" Blythe asked, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You’re asking me to lie to Caleb? My boyfriend? Your brother?"
"It’s not lying, it’s just... not mentioning it," MC pleaded, trying to use her usual soft, persuasive tone.
"It is lying, MC," Blythe snapped, visibly irritated. "Caleb tells me everything, and I don't keep secrets from him. Especially not secrets about his little sister hanging around a dangerous-looking millionaire who you're trying to pass off as a literal fruit salesman. You're putting me in a horrible position!"
MC watched Blythe, a sudden chill running through her. Blythe wasn't Caleb, and she wasn't Zayne. She couldn't be manipulated by a pout, tears or a gentle touch.
Blythe stood up, gripping her shopping bags tightly. "I'm not going to run to Caleb the second I see him, but if he asks me why you're acting weird, or if that… fruit vendor shows up near him, I am not covering for you. You need to figure out whatever game you’re playing, MC, before someone gets seriously hurt."
With that, Blythe turned and walked away, leaving MC sitting alone at the table. MC looked back across the street, but the black SUV was already pulling away from the curb. Her hands trembled slightly. Not out of fear, but out of a sudden, dangerous rush of adrenaline. The cracks were starting to show in her perfect little world, and she didn’t want to do anything to stop it from happening.
That same evening, feeling furious and entirely out of options, MC decided that Blythe was right. As much as she loved spending time with Sylus, adored his dry humour and that dangerous look he’d get in his eyes whenever she started being difficult, it was time to put an end to the game. She called him and asked, no- demanded that they meet in the next hour.
Exactly an hour later, she found herself standing in the private lounge of an exclusive, upscale club downtown. The room was dark, smelling faintly of expensive leather. Sylus was sitting alone on a velvet sofa, a glass of amber liquid resting between his fingers. He didn’t look surprised to see her looking so agitated; in fact, he looked like he had been expecting this reaction from her all along.
"A fruit vendor?" Sylus asked, his deep voice carrying a dark, mocking amusement. "Is that really the best you could come up with?"
MC slammed her purse down onto the table between them, her sweet, innocent mask completely discarded. She didn’t even bother to ask how he knew.
"You're ruining my life! Everything was perfect until you came along!"
Sylus slowly set his glass down. He stood up, his massive, imposing frame casting a long shadow over her as he closed the distance between them.
"Perfect, you say? Your perfect little world was built on lies, sweetie. You don't want peace. You want control. And you hate me because you can't control me."
"I hate you because you're an arrogant ass!" she snapped, refusing to back down even as he stepped directly into her personal space.
"You hate me because I see you," Sylus corrected softly. He leaned down, his crimson eyes locking onto hers with a piercing intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. "I see the selfish, wicked girl hiding behind that pretty smile. The one who toys with boys because she's too afraid of a real man. Tell me, MC... are you actually angry? Or are you just thrilled that someone finally called your bluff?"
MC opened her mouth to argue, to scream at him, but no words came out. Her heart was hammering violently against her ribs. He was entirely right. The chaos, the danger, the terrifying loss of control... It was the most alive she had ever felt.
Sylus picked his glass up and took a sip, not looking away from her as he did so. The amber liquid caught the light. She grabbed the glass out of his hand and finished the drink, coughing as it burned on its way down.
She was fuming. Her chest rose and fell with sharp, aggravated breaths.
"I'm mean," MC muttered, her voice tight. She glared at him. "I'm meaner than you think. And selfish."
Sylus let out a low, rough chuckle. He didn't look remotely upset or intimidated. Instead, he tracked her movements with dark, amused eyes.
"How unfortunate for those around you," he murmured, his tone dripping with mock sympathy.
"And awful." MC's free hand balled into a fist.
"Hm... Keep going," he challenged with that ever-present, infuriating smirk.
"It's not funny, Sylus! When I’m with you, it’s like the worst of me wants to come out. With my brother, with my- my friend… At least with them I try to pretend I'm good."
Sylus took the glass from her and set it down with a soft click. He took a step towards her, his towering frame instantly shifting the gravity in the room. He closed the distance between them until she had to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. It was electric between them, the energy all but thrumming faintly in the air, a heavy, magnetic pull.
"The difference between that doctor and I," he said, voice dropping an octave, making sure that MC knew that he’d done his homework when it came to her and those around her, "is that his timing is terrible." Sylus raised an eyebrow at her incredulous face expression, a dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
He leaned in, his breath brushing her ear.
"And you?" she gasped when she felt his warm lips on her skin.
"I am an opportunist," he whispered, moving away to look straight into her eyes. Sylus caught her chin between his fingers, his grip firm but careful. His smirk widened into something genuinely thrilled when her lips parted and her tongue darted out for a brief moment.
"And you, kitten," he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly purr. "Should take this opportunity. Let's give us a chance and see what happens. Let’s see just how mean you can be."
The sheer audacity of his words stripped away the last of her restraint. She was tired of the calculating games, tired of being dissected, and desperately tired of him always being one step ahead of her. She wanted to shatter his smug composure, to force a reaction out of him that he hadn’t meticulously planned.
Before her rational mind could stop her, MC reached up, grabbed the lapels of his designer coat, and pulled him down into a fierce, reckless kiss that was more a fight for the upper hand than a show of affection.
It was a collision of pure friction and built-up tension. She expected him to be shocked or at least caught off guard by her sudden aggression. Instead, after a fraction of a second of stillness, Sylus let out a low, gravelly growl that vibrated straight through her chest.
His hand shot up, his large fingers tangling into her hair to hold her in place. He didn’t just accept the kiss. Sylus took total command of it, deepening it with a dark, bruising intensity that stole the remaining air from her lungs. The sheer, overwhelming power of his grip made her knees buckle, but he held her flush against his frame, completely unbothered by her weight.
When he finally pulled back, just an inch or two, his breath was hot against her lips. His crimson eyes were darker now, flashing with a dangerous, feral amusement.
"Is that your way of silencing me?" Sylus murmured, his thumb firmly tracing her lower lip, which was now slightly swollen from the force of the kiss. He wasn't flustered. If anything, he looked entirely victorious. "A very bold move. But it only proves my point. You're reckless when you're cornered, sweetie."
MC stared up at him, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her breath. Her plan to unmask him had backfired completely. All she had managed to do was invite the chaos right inside.
“So… willing to give this a try, are we?” he asked, his voice a low vibration.
“Yes.”
Because she was done playing it safe. She wanted this and she knew that she didn’t want to go back to the way that she was.
A year later, she was walking down the aisle and she was absolutely, without even a slither of doubt sure that she was doing the right thing.
To the rest of the world, it was the wedding of the century. Caleb stood in the front row, his expression a mix of fierce protection and bittersweet acceptance, still believing his little sister was the sweet, fragile girl he had all but raised. Zayne stood nearby, his face still but his gaze betraying a quiet, stoic resignation. Blythe looked on with as much approval as possible, given the fact that she didn’t like either the bride or groom all that much.
MC didn’t care about their opinions. As she reached the altar, her gaze locked onto Sylus. He stood tall and imposing in a tailored black tuxedo, his silver hair catching the light and his crimson eyes gleaming with a familiar, dangerous amusement. He knew the truth. He knew exactly what kind of woman was hiding beneath the lace and veil.
When he took her hand, his grip was firm, warm, and entirely unyielding. He leaned in close as the priest began the vows, his voice a low, private whisper meant only for her.
"Still playing a role, sweetie?" he murmured, a slow smirk touching his lips.
MC tilted her head up, a sharp, wicked smile cutting through the facade. "Only for the audience, Sylus. You know I save my worst behaviour just for you."
"Good," Sylus whispered, his eyes flashing darkly. "Because I'm looking forward to a lifetime of it."
They exchanged rings and to her it felt less like a traditional promise and more like a mutual pact. When he pulled her in for the kiss, it wasn't the gentle, romantic gesture one would expect. It was deep, possessive, and thick with the familiar intoxicating energy.
The crowd erupted into applause. Caleb shook his head, a strained but genuine smile on his lips as he muttered something under his breath. Zayne clapped with the absolute bare minimum of polite effort required by etiquette, his brow furrowing slightly as he watched Sylus and MC break apart.
She didn’t care. MC found the only man in the world who called her out, tamed her and made her purr for him. As the applause washed over them, MC looked out at the two men who had known her longest. She saw the tight set of Caleb’s jaw and the heavy, silent concern in Zayne’s eyes. For a split second, a pang of bittersweet affection hit her. But it was almost instantly swallowed up by the thrill she felt from Sylus’s hand at her waist. She didn't offer them an apology or a look of reassurance. Instead, she let out a breathless, radiant laugh, leaning heavily into Sylus’s side. She wanted them— no! The whole world to see that she was utterly, unapologetically ruined for anyone else.
She was intoxicatingly, desperately in love and she didn’t care what others thought of her choice.
"Mm... I have to say, you were right to insist on choosing the limo," Sylus nipped at her earlobe, his voice a low vibration. "Just you and me. No spectators. No interruptions."
"Sylus, stop! We haven't even stepped outside yet!" she hissed, trying to look dignified while her heart raced. "Have you no shame?"
"Never had any, kitten. I assumed that's why you married me."
"We have an entire reception ahead of us! You have to wait."
He chuckled against her neck. "I think our guests will understand that the newlyweds prefer to be fashionably late."
As far as MC was concerned, her life was flawless. She had her husband, a life wrapped in every imaginable luxury, and a tight-knit circle of friends.
Then, one of those friends introduced his fiancée.
Instantly, MC felt a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. It was a deep, visceral irritation that clawed at her skin for no logical reason. She tried to play nice. She and Blythe did a stellar job helping organize what was bound to be one of the most beautiful weddings in the city’s history.
Through it all, you were pleasant and kind. Your suggestions were gentle, delivered with a respectful, dignified grace that MC could never emulate, no matter how hard she tried.
And then, the truth hit her like a slap in the face. She finally understood why she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from making a bitchy comment every time you were around. Unlike her, you weren't pretending to be a good person. You actually were good.
Worse, MC began noticing the subtle shifts in Zayne. It wasn’t something others would notice, but MC knew Zayne long enough to see what was going on. A creature of rigid habit, Zayne began shifting his entire routine to revolve around you. He tried his best to accommodate you. You didn't pout. You didn't manipulate or put on a cute act to get your way. Sometimes, you didn’t even have to ask. He just anticipated your needs and met them.
"They are so sweet together," Blythe smiled as she and MC stepped out of the café. Through the glass, they could still see you and Zayne, your heads bent close together as you spoke in low, intimate tones.
"I know, right? Almost too sweet. It's kind of annoying." MC took a loud, aggressive sip of her milk tea, her brow furrowed in a scowl.
"What is wrong with you?" Blythe asked, eyeing her sideways. "Feeling jealous or something, little sis?"
"I am not! And stop calling me that!"
"Then stop acting like a brat," Blythe warned, her tone dropping into something dead serious. "Because whatever petty thoughts are running through your head right now, you’d better keep them to yourself. Otherwise, you’ll have to answer to me."
"Argh, you’re so bossy! I don’t know how Caleb stands you!"
"Caleb likes being told what to do," Blythe replied with a wicked, knowing grin. "He begs for it, actually."
"What do you—oh, ew! Gross! Mental images!"
"You're such a baby. But I mean it," Blythe’s expression hardened, all humour vanishing. "This wedding is going to be flawless. If you pull any stunt, or let that attitude slip, you're dealing with me. Am I making myself clear?"
"Crystal clear," MC grumbled, pouting as she fought the childish urge to stick her tongue out.
But of course, when the wedding day came, she screwed things up in a way she hadn’t even anticipated. The wedding was undeniably beautiful. You were a vision, and Zayne looked at you in a way that made MC’s heart squeeze in a sharp, uncomfortable ache. She didn't love Zayne. At least, not romantically. But she had craved his attention, if only for a moment. She told herself that she wanted a clean break, a chance to say goodbye to what they once were, and to what they would never be.
What was supposed to be a prank, a small act of brattiness at most became so much more. Before she knew it, she screwed things up in a way that she hadn’t even anticipated.
Because as she watched your face when your husband missed your first dance to share a stolen moment with her in the garden, MC stood frozen under the twinkling lights, her face pale as she realized you had witnessed the entire pathetic display.
You looked directly at her, and then your eyes shifted back to Zayne gently swaying back and forth with her in his arms. He didn’t see you. In that heavy, silent space, MC felt a sickening sensation claw at her chest, something she hadn’t truly felt in a long time.
Guilt. It was heavy and toxic and genuine.
“I-” she started, her voice cracking, not sure if she was speaking to you or telling Zayne to stop.
Shaking your head, you pieced together a dignified smile, turned on your heel, and walked away. You went back to the ballroom alone, prepared to handle the whispering crowd with the grace she completely lacked.
MC felt a sob coming on and squashed it down. You and her were not friends. But you had done nothing to deserve to be embarrassed in this way. You were entirely innocent, and she had just ruined your night and perhaps even your marriage. All in the name of being selfish and being the centre of attention of the man she didn’t even want to have a future with.
what does a saturday morning look like with the lads men ... together ?
tags : polyamorous relationship , fluff only , drabble , not proof read
it is saturday, this much you are certain of by how loud the ruckus is in the living room. your blackout blinds are still down, fully shielding you from the sun and the start of the weekend. you blink your eyes slowly, still in between sleepiness and getting awake. right behind you is xavier. his strong arms are wrapped tightly around your waist and his little snores tickle the back of your neck.
you have no idea when he got in your bedroom, but for now, you're not complaining and allow yourself to bathe in his warmness, his usual scent of detergent and lemon fills your nose. xavier always smelled so clean and good. of course, while you are trying to enjoy this cute snuggly moment, the ruckus outside only seemed to grow louder.
muffled voices, clanking sounds, loud footsteps -- any normal person would think that they were being robbed. but no, not you. you ain't normal. not when your love life involves five guys. five possessive, jealous, protective men. and sometimes, they were annoying (this is said out of love).
''rise and shine, pipsqueak!''
that's fucking caleb. of course he is hollering at ... you try to subtly twist your body on the side to look at the clock, careful to not wake xavier up (though nothing really wakes him up). freakin 9:30 in the morning. on a saturday. and he's already yelling.
within a minute, caleb gives three firm knocks and barges in -- not even waiting for your answer. his smile is bright and full of life, his eyes gleaming with completely adoration at your sight until he sees xavier. his eyes literally darkened with irritation as he closed the distance and harshly tug on xavier's pajama shirt.
''get away from her, you stupid alien'', caleb seethes as he continues to tug. not long after, zayne comes in the bedroom wearing an apron. his eyes narrow in annoyance as he whispers to caleb to quiet down as to not wake you up so early.
the damage is already done and too late though. zayne glanced down at you and his scowl disappears instantly. his gaze softens as apology before he walks to the other side and bends down, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek.
''good morning, my love'', he soothes down your hair as his thumb caresses your cheek tenderly, ''go back to sleep. i'll wake you up for breakfast after.''
caleb had stopped tugging on xavier (who is still stubbornly ''asleep'' and clinging to you) and joined zayne beside. his earlier outrage at xavier seemed to have vanished entirely as he smiles widely at you : ''pipsqueak''.
caleb's tone, when talking to you, is always so full of gentleness and playfulness. you can practically feel love pouring out of his entire body whenever he looks at you. like an excited dog awaiting its owner's return. his hand reaches out to you gently and he caresses your cheek. if you didn't know caleb any better, you'd think that his gesture is sweet, romantic, cute. but don't be fooled.
he's just wiping zayne's kiss without explicitly saying it.
zayne turns and tries to push caleb out of your bedroom, hushing him as he glanced back at you one more time, a small smile plastered on his face just for you. always just for you. before caleb is kicked out, rafayel stops dead in front of the door. zayne groans in frustration and pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture you've seen him do on a daily basis towards the others.
''caleb, you idiot ! why did you throw my paintbrushes !'' ; rafayel yells, his fists clenched as he looks over caleb's shoulder and notices you. the lemurian god, entirely capable of solving this problem by himself, decides to push past the two men and stomp his way to your figure. he points accusingly at caleb and pouts : ''cutie, he threw my paintbrushes. i just bought them, he's triyng to salvage my inspiration and creativity !''
you also know better rafayel better than others : caleb did not throw his paintbrushes out. caleb would never clean after the other men. he only cleans after you, for you. the others can take care of themselves. it's either rafayel threw it out by accident, the paintbrushes are hidden under his own mess, or he threw it all out (and decided to accuse caleb) so he can use it as an excuse to shop for more with you, together.
knowing rafayel, the last scenario is very much plausible.
''they are so loud, baby'', xavier mumbles against your shoulder before pressing a soft kiss. you can't help but grin at all this ridiculous drama. and yet, you'd trade nothing in the world to miss this. these small moments where chaos erupts, but genuine love is felt from all of them. xavier grabs this opportunity where the 3 men are quarreling to press another featherly kiss at your shoulder, slowly kissing his way down to your arm. chills travel down your spine as xavier covers any exposed skin with butterfly kisses, his touches so gentle and tender but the bulge pressing against your ass isn't.
''hey ! stop this, you pervert !''
rafayel practically yanks xavier's shirt while caleb forcefully takes the blanket off. the soft material rips and everyone stops moving.
''good heavens, this is the 3rd blanket you ripped, caleb. can't control your own strength ?'' zayne says, clearly frustrated now. he takes the blanket from caleb's grip and glances at you. he knows you love this one, and he also knows how difficult it is to find one that is suitable for your sensitive skin.
he adjusts his glasses and extends his hand, his gaze leaving no place for argument : ''let's go, my love. let them be, i'll buy another one for you. tonight, you can sleep with me, my blanket is practically the same hypoallergenic material.''
you try to grab his hand but xavier's hold around your waist is iron and unwilling to let you go. caleb scoffs and rolls his eyes at zayne : ''nice try, zayne. pretending to be the good guy, you're sick.''
zayne feigns innocence as he tries to separate xavier away from you ; ''i'm just trying to help Y /N. she has sensitive skin and can easily get an allergic reaction. it happened last time.'' zayne says factually, his tone cold towards caleb. he didn't bother looking at his childhood friend as he continues to pry xavier (the leech) off.
''and why would she choose your blanket ? mine is the same material too.'' caleb argues, crossing his arms as he glares at the doctor. rafayel goes behind xavier and tries to headlock him, in hopes of ending this idiot's life, who has the audacity to touch his bride.
''at night, she needs to rest. your mouth can't shut up.'' zayne replies, deadpan.
by some miracle, rafayel managed to get xavier to release you (probably because he was about to pass out). zayne practically carried you right away. he'll protect you no matter what, and he knows you're safest with him.
''put her down, i'll help her get ready and you can go back to the kitchen'', caleb snaps at the doctor as he turns his attention to you. immediately, his mood switches and he beams a bright charming smile : ''whaddya say, pips ? i have a new body lotion, i can put it for you.''
before zayne can even reply on your behalf, a laughter erupts behind the men. sylus, leaning against your door, stares at you. his ruby eyes glow with amusement and mischief : ''quite a circus show you have there, kitten.''
he bends down to pick the blanket up from the floor before he toss it on the side : ''i'm the one who bought this. i'll go out shopping with my kitten after. she deserves to be spoiled today, right sweetie ?"
rafayel stops fighting with xavier and stares menacingly at sylus : " she's already going to shop with me after. we need to get more paintbrushes". the lemurian god crosses his arms and turns towards you : "right, cutie?"
before you can even respond, sylus interrupts. he feigns to be interested in his nails and rings, his tone nonchalant though you know he is hoping you will choose him over paintbrush shopping (which is boring and ridiculous in his mind). clearly, his kitten wouldn't want to waste her time with a fishie, right ?
"you don't need more paintbrushes."
"yes, i do."
"no, you don't."
"yes, i do."
"no, you don't. you barely even paint."
"because someone took my muse away. you bastards have been hoarding her for so long, i've lost my creativity !"
"that's what a bad artist would say."
"how dare you, bird face ? what do you even know about art, anyway ?"
"I'm the one who buys them, so yes -- i do know about art."
their bickering went back and forth for a while, their voices acting as background noises. zayne carried you to the bathroom and slammed it shut before caleb (or xavier) could sneak inside. while you were getting ready to start your day, their voices and presences continued on in the back.
and honestly, that was what home and love felt like.
y'all, my single lonely ass had too much fun writing this. giggling while writing, felt like i was going insane lol anyway, hope y'all enjoyed it as much as i did
“Sorry I missed your call, Zayne. I was in the shower.”
“I can tell. You’re not fully dressed,” Zayne replies, already in bed, gaze lingering on your revealing night dress.
“Do you want me to cover up?” you ask.
“I didn’t say that. It’s nice to see you. I’d almost forgotten how beautiful you look,” he clears his throat.
It’s been 1,5 weeks since you last saw each other. Your schedules barely align nowadays, so tonight you decided to video call.
“By the time I can come see you after work, you’re usually asleep…or only have 10 minutes left.”
“But–“ you hesitate.
“I’d like those ten minutes too,” he finishes your thought, “but I’m afraid I wouldn’t let go of you in …and I know you’ve been needing to get up early lately.”
“Then maybe…” you grab a hair clip and put your hair up in a soft updo, exposing your neckline further, knowing full well that’s what gets him. “…We can make up for it now?” You let the strap of your dress slip purposefully off one shoulder.
Zayne’s gaze sharpens.
“I guess…we could arrange that.” Zayne responds, sitting more upright now, his eyes fixated on your neckline now.
“Then why don’t you…,” you press your elbows closer to your chest, subtly enhancing your cleavage, “…start touching yourself for me?”
A faint smirk tugs at his lips. You see him moving his hand out of view as the video briefly turns slightly unsteady, as if he’s adjusting himself off screen.
“Shouldn’t you be joining me?” he asks curiously.
“Hm… not yet~” you titter, your fingers lightly tracing your collarbone.
Zayne exhales a quiet laugh. “I see…the screen is giving you courage. You wouldn’t be this bratty, if I was before you.”
“Too bad. What are you going to do about it now, Mister?”
He raises an eyebrow and an amused look is crossing his face now.
“That’s easy.” He turned off his video.
“HELLO?? NO, ZAYNE, THAT’S SO NOT FAIR!”
You can hear Zayne let out a laugh.
“Shall we start over? With better manners? Again, shouldn’t you be joining me?”
You smile and give in. You position your phone on the night stand in a way that grants him a full view of your body.
“Now you’re behaving,” he says content.
“Let’s see how long that lasts~ Lift your dress for me!” Zayne orders. “I want to see what you’re wearing underneath.”
“I’m not wearing anything underneath the dress,” you tease.
“I’m aware,” he says. “You never do.” There’s a mischievous smile on his face.
“I just can’t win with you, huh?” you laugh and lift your dress, slowly touching yourself for him to see.
“But Zayne..don’t I deserve a reward?”
Zayne flips the camera and shows you now how he’s slowly stroking his cock.
“Is this…what you wanted to see?” he asks.
Your core is burning up. It’s like you were starving and are suddenly being offered the one meal you can’t say no to.
“Zayne…I- I almost forgot how big you are,” you squeeze your legs together now.
“Don’t stop touching yourself”, he says quickly.
As you rub your clit, you hear Zayne’s breathing become more and more unsteady.
You then turn off your video.
Zayne flipped his camera back to his face and you can see his eyebrows furrow. He exhales loudly, his patience visibly tightens.
“I see, you have not learned your lesson.”
You don’t answer him immediately. You stare back at him, before firmly saying:
“Zayne….I need you to fuck me. Properly.”
Zayne’s holding his breath. He has been too deprived of you. He doesn’t even masturbate, he prefers doing it with you.
He stares at the black screen for a moment, before breaking the silence.
“Alright then.“ He hangs up the phone.
You blink. A little surprised at how sudden it was. Is he coming over? Is he mad at you? Is he excited? His face was unreadable. Not long after, you hear your doorbell ring — It’s Zayne.
You’ve already let him in through your phone’s security system and by the time he steps inside, you’re meeting him halfway in the living room.
“That was… quick,” you say, twirling a strand of hair around your finger, trying to act innocent.
“Call in sick for tomorrow,” his voice is strict.
“What? Why? I don’t think I—“
“Doctor’s Order,” he interrupts, “you won’t be in any state to work, when I’m done with you.”
“You missed me bad, hm?” you tease.
“Let me remind you what happens when you get bratty.”
Zayne is generally quite the well-kept man - above average one might say - but lately he hasn't quite had the chance to shave.
Between his grueling shifts at the hospital, tending to your toddler and his exhaustion, he finds it easier to do the bare minimum of bathing then running off to work. Which isn't a probelm, but it does make for a wonderful sight. The soft shadow of stubble on his jaw, the way it just changes something about your husband that it makes hard to restrain yourself sometimes.
But what it does for you visually also has the added, surprising factor.
It's a normal thing to see Zayne cuddled up with your baby on the couch. It's at least an hour a day, the one precious hour where he's not worrying. If it isn't the toddler in his arms, or you, he doesn't entertain it.
Tonight though, cuddles are not fulfilled, and his face is pushed away. You catch the slight hitch of his breath, as he looks down, shocked at familiar hazel eyes.
"No no! Off!" she huffs, fist clenched like he's one of the supervillains in her favorite shows, "Daddy go! No cuddles!"
Zayne's expression is akin to a kicked dog, but he relents and lets her go. She leaps off his lap, running to your confused form.
"Can I at least ask why?" He frowns, watching his daughter rub against her forehead against your chin, nuzzling like a little bug. Like she used to do with him.
"Scwatchy," she huffs, like it's a judge delivering the final verdict, "Daddy's fis is scwatchy, feels funny. Bad funny!"
You're barely holding back your snicker while Zayne is left flabbergasted. He doesn't even reply, doesn't pout and frown while your daughter makes a show of cuddling up to you even more. But you do note that he makes quite a speedy trip to the bathroom and comes out clean-shaven again.
🌷 NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR
Almost missed my once a week quota sorry guys. I've actually been sooo stressed lately like why are most of ny groupmates so useless like 💔💔💔
When I say I am not like other girls i really mean it in this sense they might make their boyfriends,exe's, situationships jealous by acting cozy /getting cozy with other guys and try to rile them up with jealousy.
But me I have daddy issues so deep id want to get myself a god father who adopts me and me honouring him more than my birth fukther and doing every damn father daughter bonding infront of the fukther to rile and disrespect the fuck out of him.
#id literally love Zayne as dad
#Zayne n me riling up my asshole fuckther
#i can't understand if i want Zayne as husband or as father
Seeing you in his office at the hospital always brings Zayne a lot of joy.
But in the middle of the night, while dressed in your pajamas and clearly upset? He's only worried.
"What's wrong?" He locks the door, walking over to gently cup your face. Your eyelashes flutter as you almost immediately relax at his touch, leaning into his warmth.
"I can't sleep. How long until your shift is over?" Your arms wrap around him, melting into his hold. He rests his chin on your head, rocking you side to side.
"Not till the morning. You should go home and rest." You make a noise of disappointment, pulling away from the hug with reluctance.
"I can't sleep at home. Can I just sleep here?" He glances over at the couch that he's slept on quite a few nights. It's comfortable enough, especially for your height, and he keeps a blanket on it for this very reason.
"Okay. Come on." He guides you over, probably hovering more than he needs to as you lay down, covering you with the blanket. He adjusts the decorative pillow under your head, but it's really just to admire the way your face has relaxed, no longer exhausted.
When your breathing evens, he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head before reluctantly pulling away to go back to his desk.
But first, he shuts the big light off, instead using the lamp next to his laptop. He'll be called away soon, likely for a consult or an emergency surgery or something like that.
There are always things pulling Zayne away from you. But you always find your way over to him.
idk if people will see the vision but zayne would be so sexy as an ex husband who you eventually and inevitably get back with bc you've never had a man like him
I'm getting really, and I mean REEEEEALLLY, really bad FOMO currently cuz I just realized I'm in my 20s and haven't done SHIT, I mean, NOTHING.
I wasted my teens due to other people... I am currently broke as FUCK so I can't go to any nice places other than walk around stores and buy some cheap shit.
And everywhere I go I see: either celebrities I know, or some MICRO influencer moots, or just random people online just... fucking LIVING. Fans meeting my fav celebs. Getting OUT. Being FREE. GOING PLACES I WANT TO GO TO BUT LIFE WON'T LET ME. And I can't fucking DO that for so many reasons out of my control...
Literally ALL I have right now is my stupid fictional characters, fics, and hyperfixations to help me, ground me, alleviate it. I'm literally doing NOTHINGGGGG, and I mean NOTHING else.
I just NEED to know if I'm alone in this, does ANYONE relate and does it ever get better??? 😭
ughhhh i made myself a daily schedule to try and stay productive and not rot my brain with slop mobile games all day but i haven't been able to stick to it once. its almost 7am and i haven't slept yet...
i need zayne to take my focus and gently redirect it in the right direction. to check over my shoulder every once and a while and chide me a little if i'm distracted, before helping me navigate to what i should be focusing on, and hanging around for a short while to help me stick to the task.
i want him to walk through my schedule with me and take five minutes to help me figure out what i should get done each day. to tug me back to bed when it's my bedtime and reassure me that whatever it is that's tempting me to stay awake, i can start in the morning instead.
i wish he could be here to hold me close and tell me that i'm not useless or hopeless. that i just need a little bit of help to be set on the right track, and he's there to do just that. i wish i could follow his guidance and see my life noticeably change for the better
