Mostly Astarion x female Tav or Astarion x my OC, although other characters do make appearances.
Read on AO3
Series
Conversations with a vampire
Summary: Astarion's eyes shot open and he scowled at the child crouched near him. This had to a trick. Because there was no way that a child dressed like a noble would be in a back alley behind the Flophouse at this time at night offering him salvation in the form of a potion of superior healing.
Humor/Friendship/Angst
Rating: Teen. Mild language, mentions of abuse in later chapters, canon compliant violence.
Setting: Set before the events of the game.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
đArt đ
Art - chapter 5 by @vetochkarowan
Ebony - chapter 8 (coming soon!) by @vetochkarowan
Handkerchief by @vetochkarowan
OC Wardrobe
Chasing perfection
Chasing perfection is not only impractical but mostly unattainable. Instead of boosting our achievements, it shrinks them. Why? Because when we aim too high, "failure" becomes the norm, chipping away at our self-confidence bit by bit. But then again, maybe perfection is overrated.
Humor/Angst/Romance
Rating: Mature. Mentions of abuse, violence, mature themes. Chapters with smut will be marked red.
Pairing: Astarion/(Fem)Tav
Setting: Act 1 and Act 2
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
đArtđ
Cora and her dog Ebony
Fun facts about your OC
Dating for Dummies
A one-shot collection detailing Astarion's clumsy attempts to start and maintain a relationship. Modern AU, Humor, Romance, Astarion x Tav.
Brunch - Another, better emotionally equipped male would probably just ask Tav out. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting for brunch as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion had absolutely zero clue how to be in a relationship.
Thirsty Thursday: Coconut Rum Confessions (MNDI) - Having been just friends with Tav for years, Astarion finally decides to tell her how he really feels.
One-shots
The Art of Appreciation - Pairing: Astarion x female Reader. Set in Act II. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, discovered in the unique traits admired by those closest to us. Now, Astarion isnât in loveâdonât be utterly ridiculous, darling!âbut he certainly knows exactly how to make you adore every inch of your form.
Clumsy - Pairing:Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act I, before Astarion confesses to being a vampire. Tav has always been a little clumsy, but it was nothing too inconvenient until Astarion came along. Since then, whenever Tavâs blood would spill, he would be there.
What books don't teach you (or how to date a wickedly charming vampire if all you know about dating is purely theoretical) - (MNDI, 18+) Unfortunately, having enough smutty fiction to sink a ship did not prepare you for dating (were you even dating?) Astarion. A shy/inexperienced Reader x Astarion fic where both do everything wrong but somehow end up getting it right. Set in Act II (before Astarion's confession).
A welcome distraction - Pairing:Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act II. Astarion was not nice. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning. But perhaps, given the right incentive, he could be persuaded to be nice to the one person who he felt deserved it most.
Honeycomb - Pairing:Astarion x female Tav. Set in the beggining of Act II. Astarion had a brilliant, fool-proof plan. And nothing, especially not a piece of honeycomb, would get in the way.
Yours, if you'll have me - Pairing: Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act II. Astarion found the letter on the ground between his tent and Galeâs earlier this morning. Not thinking much of it, Astarion swiped it, hoping to get a piece of juicy gossip. Gale having a secret admirer, how fun! He didnât realise that the contents were meant for him. And from their leader, no less!
Fangs and Cheeks - 18+ MNDI Pairing: Astarion x female Reader. Set in Act III. Astarion is an ass man.
Upon reflection, I find you perfect - Pairing: Astarion x female Reader. Set post-game. You find a way for Astarion to see his reflection for the first time in over 200 years.
A sound judgement - Pairing: Astarion x female Reader. Magistrate Astarion AU (Elf Astarion, No Cazador). Astarion was bored and you were the only acceptable source of entertainment. Luckily for Astarion he was, in fact, the law and you had no choice but to obey him.
Astarion x my OCs
What happens at Sharess', stays at Sharess' - Pairing: Astarion x OC, Astarion x Cora. Set in Act III. Astarion knew that stubborn look. It meant that Cora had a plan and would stop at nothing to make it work. The thought both excited and unnerved him.
Other writers' OCs
A white lie - Pairing: Astarion x Sima. Set in Act III. Astarion could not remember being certain of anything in the past 200 years. But he knew without a slither of a doubt that he would do whatever it took to make sure that they were safe. For ever. For good.
Two-shots
Brunch - Pairing:Astarion x female Tav. AU two-shot (no Cazador, elf Astarion). Another, better emotionally equipped male would probably just ask Tav out. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting for brunch as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion had absolutely zero clue as to how to be in a relationship.
Part of his plan - Pairing: Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act II, just after the tiefling party. Astarion was sure that being indispensable to Tav was the best way to secure his place by her side. And this is where his sewing skills would come in handy.
The best laid plans - Pairing: Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act II, just before Astarion's confession. Even the best laid plans may go wrong. Admittedly, Astarion's plan hadn't been that great to begin with.
Batstarion Week 2024
My headcanon is that spawn Astarion can turn into an adorable bat. Here are some drabbles exploring your and Astarion's life post-game for Batstarion Week 2024.
Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 1 - Falling asleep in unusual places
Batstarion Week 2024 -Day 2 - Cuteness aggression
Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 3 - High fashion
Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 4 - Cameo with another character
Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 5 - Feeding your Batstarion
Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 6 - Bat cuddles
Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 7 - Any prompt (Happily Ever After)
Augustarion 2024
Interconnected drabbles and one-shots celebrating our favourite rogue. Mostly reader (You) x Astarion.
Augustarion Day 1 â Strawberries đ In which Astarion didnât steal these for you, he just wanted a taste.
Augustarion Day 2 â Pool Party đ In which Astarion shows you exactly why you shouldn't be insecure.
Augustarion Day 3 - Apron 18+ MNDI In which Astarion takes care of you. And I mean sexually.
Augustarion Day 4 - Mythologies In which your love isn't a cautionary tale.
Augustarion Day 6 - Cream In which Astarion complains that you have a hero complex.
Augustarion Day 7 - Underwear In which Astarion has been embroidering cheeky messages on your underwear in elvish.
Augustarion Day 14 - Protective In which Astarion is reminded that he is not alone.
Augustarion Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard In which a spell gone awry turns Astarion's shirt into an unusual, yet formidable weapon.
Augustarion Day 28 - DILF 18+ MNDI In which you won a bet and were granted a once in a lifetime opportunity - to see into your future.
Halsin
Good - Pairing: Halsin x female Reader (Durge). Set in Act III. Perhaps you wanting to be good started out as a way to get into Halsin's good books (and his pants). Yet, you find that you have come to actually like helping those you call friends. Perhaps being good becomes you after all.
Before us - Pairings: Non Mc x Zayne, MC x Sylus, Blythe x Caleb. MNDI! 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?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6 - The ABC's of MC
Dividers by @orieriee
đş Valkođş
A sticky situation - There are few things that can bring Valko to his knees. Apparently, chocolate is one of them. đ, MNDI, Valko x Reader
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! đđ 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. Heâd 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 wasnât uniquely gifted. She wasnât great at school or sports. She had her charms, but she knew that she wasnât 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 sheâd 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 toâoh." 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 MCâs 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."
MCâs 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 itâs 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."
Calebâs 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 youâ"
"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. Calebâs defensive posture melted instantly, replaced by the familiar, easy-to-manage warmth she was so used to exploiting. "Yeah, of course. This place doesnât 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 Zayneâs 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."
Zayneâs thumb stroked the line of her jaw. His expression remained entirely neutral, but his thumb lingered a second too longâa 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 whoâd figure her out when others couldnât. 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. Zayneâs 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 didnât tell Caleb or Zayne. She cradled the secret close to her heart and kept it safe from the world. But she knew that sheâd eventually have to tell others. Except she didnât want her adoptive brother or her best friend be the first ones to know. She wanted to practice on someone who wasnât 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.
âOh hi!â MC looked up to find Blythe, Calebâs girlfriend, standing beside her with a raised eyebrow. âYep, just chilling on my own. The city is getting so hot these days! You know how it is!â
What were the words that were coming out of her mouth? MC took a very purposeful sip of her coffee so she wouldnât say anything else.
âSure. Mind if I sit? My legs are killing me.â
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?"
MCâs mouth felt a little dry. Blythe was not Caleb. MC knew that the other woman didnât 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 Blytheâs no-nonsense attitude, MC found herself on her best behaviour.
Panicking under Blytheâs sharp gaze, MC blurted out the first ridiculous thing that came to mind. "Heâs 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 peopleâs houses. He is absolutely not selling pineapples."
MC flushed, realizing how terrible her lie was. She reached across the table and grabbed Blytheâs 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."
Blytheâs 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. "Youâre asking me to lie to Caleb? My boyfriend? Your brother?"
"Itâs not lying, itâs 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 youâre 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 didnât 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 heâd 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 didnât 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 didnât 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 Iâm with you, itâs 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 heâd 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. Letâs 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 hadnât 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 didnât 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.
âSo⌠willing to give this a try, are we?â he asked, his voice a low vibration.
âYes.â
Because she was done playing it safe. She wanted this and she knew that she didnât 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. Â
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 didnât like either the bride or groom all that much.
MC didnât care about their opinions. Â 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 didnât 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 Calebâs jaw and the heavy, silent concern in Zayneâs 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 Sylusâs 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 Sylusâs side. She wanted themâ no! The whole world to see that she was utterly, unapologetically ruined for anyone else.
She was intoxicatingly, desperately in love and she didnât 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 fiancĂŠe.
Instantly, MC felt a sensation she hadnât 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 cityâs 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 wasnât 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 didnât 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 cafĂŠ. 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, youâd better keep them to yourself. Otherwise, youâll have to answer to me."
"Argh, youâre so bossy! I donât 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 youâoh, ew! Gross! Mental images!"
"You're such a baby. But I mean it," Blytheâs 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 hadnât even anticipated. The wedding was undeniably beautiful. You were a vision, and Zayne looked at you in a way that made MCâs 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 hadnât 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 didnât see you. In that heavy, silent space, MC felt a sickening sensation claw at her chest, something she hadnât truly felt in a long time.
Guilt. It was heavy and toxic and genuine.
âI-â 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 didnât even want to have a future with.
$50,000 immediately dropped into my bank account wouldn't improve EVERYTHING but boy it sure would be a grand, sexy little start to a good, happy life path, don't you think
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! đđ 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. Heâd 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 wasnât uniquely gifted. She wasnât great at school or sports. She had her charms, but she knew that she wasnât 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 sheâd 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 toâoh." 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 MCâs 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."
MCâs 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 itâs 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."
Calebâs 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 youâ"
"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. Calebâs defensive posture melted instantly, replaced by the familiar, easy-to-manage warmth she was so used to exploiting. "Yeah, of course. This place doesnât 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 Zayneâs 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."
Zayneâs thumb stroked the line of her jaw. His expression remained entirely neutral, but his thumb lingered a second too longâa 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 whoâd figure her out when others couldnât. 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. Zayneâs 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 didnât tell Caleb or Zayne. She cradled the secret close to her heart and kept it safe from the world. But she knew that sheâd eventually have to tell others. Except she didnât want her adoptive brother or her best friend be the first ones to know. She wanted to practice on someone who wasnât 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.
âOh hi!â MC looked up to find Blythe, Calebâs girlfriend, standing beside her with a raised eyebrow. âYep, just chilling on my own. The city is getting so hot these days! You know how it is!â
What were the words that were coming out of her mouth? MC took a very purposeful sip of her coffee so she wouldnât say anything else.
âSure. Mind if I sit? My legs are killing me.â
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?"
MCâs mouth felt a little dry. Blythe was not Caleb. MC knew that the other woman didnât 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 Blytheâs no-nonsense attitude, MC found herself on her best behaviour.
Panicking under Blytheâs sharp gaze, MC blurted out the first ridiculous thing that came to mind. "Heâs 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 peopleâs houses. He is absolutely not selling pineapples."
MC flushed, realizing how terrible her lie was. She reached across the table and grabbed Blytheâs 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."
Blytheâs 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. "Youâre asking me to lie to Caleb? My boyfriend? Your brother?"
"Itâs not lying, itâs 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 youâre 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 didnât 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 heâd 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 didnât 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 didnât 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 Iâm with you, itâs 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 heâd 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. Letâs 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 hadnât 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 didnât 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.
âSo⌠willing to give this a try, are we?â he asked, his voice a low vibration.
âYes.â
Because she was done playing it safe. She wanted this and she knew that she didnât 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. Â
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 didnât like either the bride or groom all that much.
MC didnât care about their opinions. Â 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 didnât 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 Calebâs jaw and the heavy, silent concern in Zayneâs 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 Sylusâs 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 Sylusâs side. She wanted themâ no! The whole world to see that she was utterly, unapologetically ruined for anyone else.
She was intoxicatingly, desperately in love and she didnât 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 fiancĂŠe.
Instantly, MC felt a sensation she hadnât 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 cityâs 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 wasnât 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 didnât 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 cafĂŠ. 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, youâd better keep them to yourself. Otherwise, youâll have to answer to me."
"Argh, youâre so bossy! I donât 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 youâoh, ew! Gross! Mental images!"
"You're such a baby. But I mean it," Blytheâs 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 hadnât even anticipated. The wedding was undeniably beautiful. You were a vision, and Zayne looked at you in a way that made MCâs 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 hadnât 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 didnât see you. In that heavy, silent space, MC felt a sickening sensation claw at her chest, something she hadnât truly felt in a long time.
Guilt. It was heavy and toxic and genuine.
âI-â 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 didnât even want to have a future with.
always such a struggle when you get to the sex scene part of the fic you're writing and you're not horny at all. i don't know. their things were touching. without ANY underwear. the end.
Iâm not sure if this will be helpful to anyone, but you literally do not have to be a good writer to write and post fan fiction. Yes you will naturally get better at writing and finding your voice the more you do it but you do not have to be or become a professional level writer to enjoy writing and sharing fics. Itâs common to hear people praise fic writers by saying their work is better than published books, and while I think this comes from a good place, thatâs not the norm or expectation. There is also a sentiment that fic writing is âgood practiceâ for becoming a better writer or doing something else later, but if fic is the only creative writing you ever do that is literally okay. Your technical skill does not mean you cannot have fun and build community with your writing, or that other people cannot love and find meaning in your work.
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: 3.4k
A/N: Thank you so much for your support! đđŤđđ Thank you for commenting and reblogging! I really enjoy chatting to you guys! đđ
This chapter does not have Zayne in it, but we are getting his POV soon. I'm going on a work/family trip till mid-July, so I won't be posting anything for the next two weeks. I'm going to save the next two chapters on my phone and try working on these whenever I get a free minute, but I really hate writing on my phone. The screen is too small, I don't see what I'm doing that well, end up making mistakes and typos. But I will try!
Also, this fic was going to be just 12 chapters, but it has grown to 20. Not quite done and not edited, but they exist!
Dividers by @orieriee and @diviniyae
In the end you decided to end things quietly. You went back to bed, shut your eyes and feigned sleep, listening to Zayne move about the room after his shower. When he finally lay back down, the mattress dipped under his weight. He gently brushed your damp hair away from your neck, pressing a soft kiss against your skin.
"I'm so sorry," he said in a broken whisper. "I will fix it, I promise."
He pulled you closer, moving his head to rest on the pillow next to you.
"I know that it's too late and I don't deserve you," he murmured. "But things will change. I'm going to change."
You braced yourself for him to pull away, expecting the usual distance, but he stayed. Slowly, his tight grip relaxed, his breathing leveled out, and he drifted off to sleep. You remained completely frozen, counting the minutes until you were absolutely certain he was deep enough asleep that any movement wouldn't disturb him. An hour passed in total stillness before you carefully slid out from under the heavy warmth of Zayneâs arm.
You stepped onto the cold floor, the silence of the room heavy with the weight of your decision. Behind you, Zayne stirred slightly but didin't wake, his promise of change already lingering like a ghost in the quiet apartment.
Every movement you made was deliberate, quiet, and final.
You dressed in silence and made your way outside, driving to the house to gather the fragments of your life. Moving as quickly as you could, you managed to be out of there before the first rays of light lit up the horizon. But when morning finally spilled into the rooms, it brought no sense of hope. It only illuminated the shipwreck of your life. You grabbed the handles of your two oversized suitcase and walked out of the house without looking back.
You didnât really have a plan. You were driving without a destination. While you knew that Blythe would help you in a heartbeat, you didnât want to drag her into this mess. Youâd tell her, but you were not ready to do it just yet. In the end, you realised that perhaps there was a person who knew exactly what you were going through. After all, her marriage had hardly been the stuff of romance.
The tires of your car crunched loudly against the gravel driveway of your childhood home. It was long past midnight by the time you got there, and the quiet, suburban street was entirely asleep. You dragged your small overnight bag from the passenger seat, leaving the suitcases in the car, the weight of all the stress threatening to buckle your knees as you walked up to the door.
When you knocked, your mother did not open the door immediately. She opened the door, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her housecoat tied loosely around her waist. She blinked in confusion, but her face instantly lit up with a brilliant, joyful smile the second she recognized you.
"Oh, sweetheart!" she gasped, pulling you into a sudden, tight hug. "What a wonderful surprise! What are you doing here? Did you and Zayne work everything out? Is he parking the car?"
She peered past your shoulder into the dark driveway, looking for the sharp silhouette of your husband's car.
"No," you whispered, your voice cracking as you stepped into the warm entryway. "Zayne isn't here."
Your mother closed the door against the night air, her brow furrowing as she took in your pale face, the dark circles under your eyes, and the lack of rings on your left hand. She walked behind you into the kitchen, quickly turning on the kettle to make tea.
You told her everything. You told her about the seven months of absolute isolation, the laptop filled with hundreds of messages and photos of MC, everything that was said and left unsaid.
Your mother listened in absolute silence, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes fixed on you as you poured your heart out. But as the story finished, the heavy, validating comfort you were desperately seeking never came.
The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. The click of the electric kettle echoed through the quiet kitchen as it automatically shut off, the aggressive bubbling slowing to a faint hiss. Your mother stood up mechanically, lifted the cordless pitcher from its base, and poured the steaming water over the tea bags. She did not look at you while she did it.
She set your cup in front of you and let out a long, slow sigh. She didn't look angry. She didn't look horrified. Instead, she reached across the table and patted your hand, her expression shifting into a calm, pragmatic look that made your stomach sink.
"Oh, you silly girl," your mother said softly, her voice carrying the dismissive weight of a different generation. "Look at me. This isn't a big problem."
You blinked, completely stunned, the breath catching in your throat. "But⌠how could you say that? He's in love with someone else."
"Marriage is hard, and marriage is work," she said firmly, her tone leaving absolutely no room for negotiation. "You can't expect things to be easy and romantic all the time. You've been married for just two years. You are still⌠adjusting to each other. Zayne is a world-renowned surgeon. People make mistakes, especially men in high-pressure positions like Zayne. He carries life-and-death stakes on his shoulders every single day, and he is bound to be exhausted, bound to make mistakes."
She stood up, pouring the hot water into two mugs, her back turned to you.
"This MC girl... she's a childhood friend. Men have histories. They have attachments from before they met us. It doesn't mean he doesn't value the life he's building with you." She turned around, setting the fine china cup in front of you with a definitive click. "You have a comfortable life. You have a secure relationship with a man who provides for you, who treats you with respect in public, and who came all the way downtown to find you when you were hiding in a bar and searched for you relentlessly for two days until I called him. Do you know how many women would kill for a husband like that?"
"He doesnât love me," you whispered, the hot tears finally spilling over your eyelashes. "Heâs not scared of losing me. Heâs scared of losing face."
" Of course he is! A manâs reputation is everything. And you are being oversensitive, not that Iâm surprised," your mother sighed, shaking her head with a look of disappointment that cut deeper than any blade. "You're an ordinary woman in your mid-thirties, and you landed a man who is as perfect as it gets. You can't just throw a tantrum and run away the second things get difficult. A proud independence is fine when you're single, but you're a wife now. You need to learn to compromise. You need to swallow your pride."
She leaned down, looking directly into your eyes, her voice entirely devoid of the comfort you had driven across the city to find.
"You can stay here in your old room tonight to catch your breath," your mother said flatly. "But tomorrow morning, you are going to go home, you are going to put those rings back on your finger, and you are going to act like a wife worthy of your husband."
Sitting alone in the kitchen of the home that was supposed to protect you, you looked down at your bare left hand. You felt stranded between a husband who was emotionally vacant and a mother, your only family, that refused to see your pain.
âNow, you off to bed with you. You will feel much better in the morning.â
Her words were crisp, neatly packaged, and utterly hollow. She looked at you, but her eyes slid right past the raw ache on your face, choosing instead to focus on the putting the untouched cups of tea near the sink and wiping the table. It was the exact brand of polite dismissal she had used to survive her own marriage. It was a refusal to acknowledge the cracks in the foundation. You wanted to scream, to force her to look at you, to see that you were her child and you were hurting. But you were too tired, the energy drained from your limbs. You simply nodded, swallowed the lump in your throat, and retreated upstairs.
The generic pastel wallpaper of your childhood bedroom was the first thing you saw when the morning sun forced your eyes open. For a split second, the heavy, suffocating fog of the past few days lifted, leaving a strange, crystalline quiet in your mind.
Then, the reality of the kitchen conversation from last night rushed back.
âYou need to learn to compromise. Swallow your pride. Go back home to your husband.â
You sat up in the twin bed, looking down at your left hand and at the tan line left behind where the rings were supposed to be. The skin where your wedding bands used to sit felt strangely liberated. Your motherâs words had been meant to break your resolve and to force you back into the role everyone had been so proud to see you in.
But as you stared out the window, her dismissive lecture had the exact opposite effect. It strengthened your resolve. It made you angry.
You walked down the hallway, the bag slung over your shoulder. Your mother was already awake, standing by the stove with a fresh pot of coffee, looking up with an expectant, hopeful smile as she saw you dressed.
"Good morning," she said, her voice dripping with artificial cheer, as if testing the waters after last night's confrontation. "I was just thinking, I can make some blueberry pancakes before you head back homeâ"
"I'm not going back to him, mother," you cut her off. Your voice wasn't loud. It carried the absolute, immovable weight of a final verdict.
Your mother's smile instantly vanished, her posture stiffening. "What? Did you not hear a single thing I said to you last night? You are throwing away a perfect life overâ"
"I'm throwing away an illusion," you said, looking her dead in the eye. "Thank you for letting me sleep here. But I am an adult, and I am not going to live as a ghost in my own home just to keep up appearances for you or anyone else."
âYou would be doing what any women who had her wits about her would do!â
âYou mean, Iâd be doing what you did, right?â
Her jaw tightened. âWhat is that supposed to mean?â
âYou never left," you said, the old wounds opening up, raw and bleeding. "You didnât take me away from him. You knew what he did. You knew that Father stripped me of any agency, of any voice, for years. I was punished, locked in my room, left without food for two days straight onceâand over what? For not being able to tell quick enough if he was in one of his moods?â
âHow dare you!" she gasped, her face flushing. âWe gave you a beautiful childhood! The best schools! Most wonderful clothes! Youâd be the envy of anyone if you just-â
âYes, yes, I know. If I was better, smarter, more beautiful. Enough.â You shook your head, the last of your hope evaporating. âI came here thinking that we could relate to each other. Two women stuck in loveless marriages. But I see it now. You were not a victim of his cruelty, and you were not just complacent. You encouraged it.â
You took a step back. âIâm done being convenient. And I donât want to see you again.â
Before she could unleash another lecture, you turned on your heel, walked out the front door, and stepped into the crisp morning air. You got into your car, threw your bag into the passenger seat, and tried starting the engine. Then you tried again. Nothing. The battery was completely dead.
A curtain twitched.
You looked up, and a sharp, sudden laugh bubbled up involuntarily. If she thought a dead battery would force you back inside to play nice, she had another thing coming. You popped the trunk, hauled your heavy suitcases onto the asphalt, and grabbed your overnight bag. Then, you simply started walking.
The rhythmic, scraping click of your suitcase wheels against the pavement shattered the quiet morning. As the adrenaline of your dramatic exit began to fade, the stark reality of the situation settled into your bones.
You had absolutely no plan. You could probably crash with Blythe and Caleb for a few days, but Blythe already had her hands full with the kids. Dragging the your mess of a ruined marriage into their chaotic, happy home felt selfish. It would only add stress to a life that was already bursting at the seams. Besides, sleeping on someoneâs sofa was hardly a long-term solution.
You needed a place to live. You needed to start thinking about lawyers. A bitter taste washed over your tongue at the thought. You wanted nothing from Zayne. You didnât want his money. You didnât want the house that had become nothing more than a graveyard of your broken dreams. You just wanted it over. Fast. But swift legal battles required money. You had some money set aside, but that would be hardly enough.
With every block you walked away from your childhood home, the suitcases felt heavier, and the suburban streets felt emptier. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't even register the low, predatory purr of the sleek black sports car idling at the curb.
Then, the door swung open.
Sylus stepped out, leaning casually against the car frame. He wore a heavy dark coat that made him look impossibly large against the morning light. His sharp eyes tracked you instantly, sweeping from your messy hair down to the luggage clutched at your feet. He didn't look surprised to see you.
"Leaving your motherâs house so early?" Sylus asked.
You froze, clutching your suitcase handles tighter. "What are you doing here, Sylus?"
"MC found out what happened and she was worried about you. She tried calling several times, but you didnât answer," he said, taking a slow step toward you as if taking care not to startle you.
âPerhaps I didnât want to answer.â
Sylus tilted his head, his gaze piercing right through your defensive posture. "She thinks Zayne is just working hard. But the truth is he is a fool. As things stand, he is choosing to fight a lost cause at work. And for what? Only to be a lost cause when it comes to his own marriage. He exhausts himself playing the martyr, leaving you to starve for affection while his enemies encircle him."
Panic, confusion and hurt flared in your chest. "How did you know where to find me? Did Zayne-"
"No." Sylus cut in smoothly. "The good doctor didn't tell anyone that his marriage is on the rocks."
"Then how did you know?"
"I have my ways. Or perhaps some things are just more obvious to some than to others."
You bristled, a sudden wave of heat washing over your skin. You knew your anger was likely misdirected, but you were completely exhausted, and you had absolutely zero patience left for Sylus and his arrogant confidence.
"I don't have time for this," you whispered, trying to push past him.
Sylus reached out, his hand wrapping gently but firmly around the handle of your suitcase, stopping you in your tracks. "Let's cut the act. I called him an idiot because he is one. A pathetic idiot who is too blind to see what his pride is costing him." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping. "And Iâm guessing from the way you look, youâve finally had enough."
Your breath hitched. Sylus let out a dark, humourless laugh and let go of the suitcase.
"Surprised that I know? Well, letâs just say itâs my⌠business to know everything about everyone. And I know how he operates," Sylus said, opening the passenger door of his car. "And I also know what it looks like when a woman has reached her absolute limit. Get in."
"I'm not going anywhere with you," you said, your voice shaking. "You're MC's husband. If you know... if you think-" you took a breath. "Why aren't you furious with him? And why are you helping me?"
"Because MC is mine," Sylus said, the words carrying absolute, unshakeable certainty. "Zayneâs pathetic pining is an annoyance Iâve tolerated over the years. Itâs surface-level drama, his emotions lack the depth to be dangerous. As for you... If you stay, you keep playing the victim. If you leave, you get to find out what life can be like without a stubborn fool for a husband. Either way, you need a place to stay until you decide what your next step is."
He gestured to the leather seat. "My house has more rooms than I know what to do with. You can stay in one, clear your head, and figure out how you're going to make him pay for wasting two years of your life. Or, you can walk down the street until your legs give out. Your choice."
You looked at Sylus, an unpredictable, dangerous man that you knew no better now than when you first met him two years ago. Yet here he was, offering a strange form of sanctuary.
âWhy are you doing this?â
âItâs entertaining. And perhaps a part of me feels that if I got involved earlier, then there would be less damage. Either way, does it really matter?â
You lifted your chin, refusing to let him see the tremor in your hands. You walked past his towering frame and climbed into the plush warmth of the passenger seat.
âNo,â you said. âI suppose it doesnât.â
The heavy thud of the car door closing shut out the rest of the world, leaving only the quiet hum of the engine and the scent of expensive leather. The sudden warmth of the interior hit your freezing skin, making you realize just how tired you truly were.
Sylus pulled smoothly into traffic, navigating the dark streets in total silence. He didn't offer empty platitudes, nor did he look over to watch you break. Instead, he simply gave you space to process the shock. It started to rain and you focused on the rhythmic staccato. Then you closed your eyes and relaxed into the seat.
The drive passed in a blur of rain and shadow until the car finally pulled through the massive, iron gates of Sylusâs secluded estate. The fortress-like mansion loomed ahead, dark and imposing against the night sky.
"My bags."
"I'll take care of that," he replied smoothly.
He killed the engine and personally escorted you inside, his hand a firm, grounding weight on your shoulder. The place was huge, but he led you straight to a luxurious guest suite that felt entirely removed from the rest of the house. Before he turned to leave you for the night, he handed you a glass of amber liquid to take the chill out of your bones.
"Thank you."
"It may not seem like it," Sylus began, his gaze steady as he watched you, "but MC really does care for you as a friend. Not at first, but she definetely does now."
"Even if it's choosing between me and Zayne?" You didn't look at him, keeping your focus entirely on the glass in your hands.
"MC is... she is what she is," he said softly, a quiet sigh slipping past his lips. "But she feels responsible for the way things turned out. She wanted to come to pick you up, but wasn't sure if you'd want to see her."
"Why wouldn't I? It's not her fault. Zayne's mind is his own."
Sylus studied your profile for a quiet beat, a faint, unreadable shift passing through his eyes. "I'm glad you see it that way. Rest. We will see you tomorrow morning."
The heavy door clicked shut, leaving you entirely alone with the silence. You drank the alcohol quickly, not caring much about the taste. Not bothering to change your clothes, you flopped onto the plush bed, thinking that you wouldn't be able to relax enough in this unfamiliar house to sleep. However, the exhaustion of the emotional whirlwind finally won, pulling you into a heavy, dreamless sleep that felt more like a temporary escape than actual rest.
the situation surrounding love and deepspace and valko has reached the state/governmental level in china.
here is what is happening right now:
1. the decision to delete calko was a panic-driven, spontaneous move.
just 3 days ago, infold was planning to keep him. however, haters flooded government regulatory bodies with complaints and even brought manure and funeral wreaths to the office. in a state of pure panic, the studio decided to "sacrifice" the character to save the entire project.
2. the issue has reached beijing.
the game has received an official warning. however, the shanghai municipal government (where the developers are based) is currently desperately defending the studio before beijing. this is because love and deepspace pays massive taxes into the cityâs budget (in 2025 alone, the game generated nearly $380,000,000!). shanghai does not want to lose such a cash cow over internet trolls. everything will be decided in the coming days.
3. the chinese fandom has started a rebellion.
right now, cip players (who have collectively spent over 4 million RMB on the game) are coordinating a late-night siege of weibo's trending topics. tomorrow, they plan to hold a PROTEST with fresh flowers in front of the infold office to prove to the authorities that reasonable, paying players vastly outnumber the haters!
4. infold is in a panic, holding emergency meetings.
summer events are already being canceled or postponed on the japanese account â everything is falling apart because they had no plan b. the official account is losing thousands of followers every minute.
u can also read a chinese player's thoughts on this matter here
if you have even the slightest desire to help, you can do so by following these steps âźď¸
HOW CAN WE HELP RIGHT NOW?
we need to support both the chinese fandom. we must flood official chinese media outlets and customer support with emails stating that the game does NOT violate any laws, that valko is clean, and that his cancellation is purely the result of a harassment campaign by haters
I am writing to express my deep concern over the targeted cyber-harassment campaign against the game "Love and Deepspace" and its character, Valko. As global players, we want to emphasize that "Love and Deepspace" strictly adheres to international standards and corporate compliance. The game does not violate any laws. The recent wave of negative rumors was entirely fabricated by a radical group of anti-fans who used cyber-bullying tactics to force a scandal. By abruptly canceling Valko due to this malicious pressure, the developers have harmed millions of legitimate global consumers who have heavily invested in the game. We respectfully urge the regulatory authorities to recognize that the game is a compliant, legally sound cultural product. We request that the malicious rumors be dismissed, and the character Valko be safely restored to the servers.
