You’ve known Caleb Xia for years. He was the new kid in your second grade class who talked up his little sister to anyone who’d listen. That was how you met him—them. They were always a pair: Caleb and Emmie. Emmie and Caleb. Where one went, the other followed.
You got close to the pair because it was easy. You shared the candies your friends gave you with Emmie—because if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s her horrendous sweet tooth—while Caleb complained that you never gave him half as much attention. You always waved Caleb off, saying he didn't even like sweets as much as Emmie. One White Chocolate Day, you opened your locker to a flood of chocolates. It was mortifying as you shoved them all into a bag. You went home that day with a bulging bag, but not one chocolate from the boy you liked.
Huh, you forgot to mention that, didn’t you?
As the three of you got older, you developed a crush on Caleb. It was a small, harmless thing at first. You honestly thought it’d go away after a few years of unrequited affection.
But it hasn't.
So now, as you sit in your car outside of the restaurant where Emmie’s birthday gathering is taking place, you wonder what the hell you’re doing. Caleb is bound to be here. The One Wish Willow box sits heavy in your hands. You bought it on a whim when you went to buy Emmi’s birthday card. You tell yourself it’s a gimmick, one you can try later. Your best friend’s birthday comes first.
You slam the car door shut as you walk in. Emmie is clad in a beautiful satin red dress with her boyfriend—tall, handsome, white hair, red eyes—on her arm. You give her a hug, wish her happy birthday, and add your card + gift to the growing pile. Most of them are from her boyfriend, but a couple on the outside of the pile are from other friends. Suddenly, you feel like your gift isn’t up to par. She’d been talking about this sweater that reminded her of one of her favorite games—something “sky children”—so you found a crochet pattern and made it. Looking at the pile, your crochet sweater feels cheap.
You slink off to the corners of the booth, ordering a Coke and slouching in your seat. You didn’t necessarily come for the music or dancing. You came for Emmie, and Caleb, but mostly Emmie. Caleb saddles up to your side, quiet as a mouse. Speak of the Devil and he shall appear, right?
“Look who crawled out of their hole,” he jokes.
You deadpan, retorting, “My apartment is hardly a hole. And you can’t be talking, Mr. DAA Pilot. At least I texted.”
“Aw,” he whines, “I already apologized for that.”
You snort, “Not enough,” and take a sip of your soda.
It gets quiet between you two. Lucky Emmie dances with her boyfriend as her playlist blares over the restaurant speakers. Apparently, the guy rented out the whole restaurant for today.
“What d’you think of him,” Caleb asks, breaking the silence.
You hum, swirling the soda in the cup. Eventually, you answer, “He seems okay. A little weird, but not bad.”
Caleb hums, watching the pair like a hawk. You sigh out of your nose. It’s always been like this. Caleb’s focus has always been Emmie, excluding anyone and everyone else. It was always them against the world. Even when you tried to change that, it was them against the world. There was just barely room for you in their dynamic.
If you had one wish—
Caleb breaks your train of thought with a question: “Any new guys hanging around you?”
You jolt up in your seat, nearly spilling your soda.
“Damn Sweets, is there a guy?”
“No,” you cough because of the funny feeling in your throat, “there’s no guy.”
“Wasn’t the last time you dated in high school?”
“Why do you suddenly want to know my dating life?”
Caleb shrugs. “We don’t talk as much. I miss my best friend.”
There it is. You think back to those trio friendship necklaces you saw in the store when you picked up Emmie’s birthday card.
Someone you know once said, “There doesn’t need to be a third person, see? The two on the outside can always complete each other, but number three will always be unfinished.”
You stand up abruptly. Caleb looks a little shocked, but he doesn’t comment on it. You tell him you have to use the bathroom and flee the table. You lock the door to the gender-neutral bathroom once you’re inside. You feel like a fool. Your chest is squeezing itself to shreds while you hunch over the blurry bathroom sink.
You shouldn’t have come.
You shouldn’t have come.
You shouldn’t have come.
You shouldn’t have come.
You shouldn’t have come.
You shouldn’t have—
“Hey Sweets, you okay? Was Caleb being mean?” It’s Emmie.
She’s knocking on the door.
“N-no! I’m not feeling super great.”
“Oh, well, are you going to leave?”
“Maybe. I-I’m gonna be in here for a few more minutes.”
“Let me know if you need anything.”
She’s so kind. You feel like an asshole for doing this. Emmie deserves better than your dramatics. The One Wish Willow box hangs heavy in your pocket. You pull it out, read the instructions, and consider your wish. There’s two you can think of.
“I wish …”
Thank you divinyae for the wonderful banners <3
I was inspired by this post.
Lemme know what you think.
Hi @inuiiwonderland, thank you for ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ the inspiration. Of course, I couldn’t just tie everything up in a neat little bow ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ I leave the ending to those who read. What would you wish for?
♡︎ synopsis: After a stranger’s crude comment leaves you unsettled, Valko helps you reclaim the rest of your night - and reminds you how safe and adored you feel in his arms.
♡︎ pairing: Valko x fem!reader
♡︎ tags: established relationship, fluff and smut, hurt/comfort (mild), mention of catcalling, mention of alcohol (drinking cocktails), foot massage, body worship, oral (f receiving), use of 'sweetheart' 'baby', attempt at describing lotus pose, creampie ofc, aftercare
♡︎ word count: 7.2k
♡︎ a/n: Got catcalled the other day, so I wrote this to make myself feel better lol.
♡︎ Again, thank you, @unintentionalseductress for helping, and also its-de for beta reading.
divider by @ anitalenia
The smell of your favorite takeout hits you before you even get the door fully open. Your hand stills on the handle, your bag slipping lower on your shoulder as you step inside and find Valko standing in your kitchen with the paper bags open in front of him, transferring food onto plates. A small smile tugs on your lips, because there is something ridiculous and tender about the sight of him there, too tall for the space, too broad beside your cabinets.
Valko looks up as soon as he hears you.
“There you are,” he says, his voice warm with the usual excitement.
You close the door behind you. “I’m impressed,” you say. “You were smart enough to order takeout instead of trying to cook without me.”
He huffs out a laugh, glancing down at the plates. “I know my strengths.”
You manage another smile as you take off your shoes by the door and set your bag on the small table near the entry.
In the kitchen, Valko keeps moving, the plates clinking as he finishes dividing the food. “How was it?” he asks. “You had a good time?”
You head toward the sink instead of going to him, reaching for a glass from the cabinet before you answer. “Yeah,” you say, filling it with water. “It was good.”
You take a sip of water and keep your eyes on the glass.
You hear Valko move behind you, and when you turn, he is near enough that you have to tilt your chin to meet his eyes.
“Hi,” he says, softer now, like the first greeting had not counted because he had been too far away.
“Hi,” you answer.
He leans in for the kiss he always takes when you come home to him. You give him just a quick press of your mouth to his, and then you pull back with your glass still in one hand and your other palm braced against the counter.
Valko does not comment on the kiss, but you catch the brief change in his face before he turns back toward the food, a small crease between his brows, there and gone quickly enough that you could pretend you missed it.
“So,” you say, lifting your glass again as you move closer to the food, “what did you order?”
His gaze stays on you for another moment. “The usual,” he says, reaching for one of the containers, “and something from the new place across the street because I wanted to try it.”
“Of course you did.”
“It looked good.”
“You say that about everything.”
“Not everything.” He opens another box and tips his head, considering it. “Most things.”
Despite yourself, you smile as you step beside him, looking over the spread he has arranged – the familiar dishes are there, warm and fragrant, but there are two new ones too, both still steaming as he moves them onto the plates. “Okay,” you admit, “that does look good.”
“Obviously,” he says, with the confidence of someone taking credit for cooking it himself. “And if we’re having cocktails later, we should eat properly first. Especially you.”
You let out a small chuckle, setting your glass down. “Yeah, yeah. You’re probably right.”
Valko asks if you want to eat at the table or on the sofa, and you say, “Sofa’s fine,” without really looking at him.
This time, he does not move back to the food.
You notice the way he turns fully toward you instead of only glancing over.
“Okay,” he says, his voice lower now. “What’s wrong?”
You shrug too quickly. “Nothing.”
His eyes stay on your face. “I know you.”
“It’s really not a big deal.”
“Then tell me.”
You breathe out through your nose and look away first, because the last thing you want is to drag the ugliness of it into your kitchen. Still, the words come out after a moment, plain and clipped, enough to explain but not enough to make a whole scene out of it. You tell him that, on your way back, some jerk threw a crude comment at you, that you ignored him, that it annoyed you more than you wanted it to, and that it was stupid anyway.
By the time you finish, your own mouth has twisted with irritation.
“Whatever,” you mutter, shaking your head as if that can knock the feeling loose. “It doesn’t matter – ”
When you glance at Valko, the look on his face makes the rest of the sentence disappear.
His jaw has gone tight, the easy warmth from a minute ago pulled into something harder and much less familiar. You have seen him annoyed before, but this is different.
“It’s not nothing,” he says.
The roughness in his voice catches you off guard, even though you know it’s not aimed at you.
You shrug again. “It’s fine. It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last, so there’s no point making it into something.”
“Don’t do that.”
You pause.
His tone has gone firmer, and when you look back at him, his attention has not moved from you. For a second, neither of you speaks. His expression shifts into something more careful, and his shoulders ease a little as he reaches for you.
Your body moves before the rest of you catches up.
You take a small step to the side, barely anything, but enough for his hands to stop between you.
You turn toward the counter, taking the plate. “It’s not worth thinking about,” you say, a little too lightly. “Let’s just eat.”
For a moment, you can feel him watching you, and you keep your attention on the food. Then he picks up his own plate and follows you to the sofa, giving you enough room to sit first before he settles beside you.
The TV comes on a minute later, filling the silence. Valko eats beside you, quieter than usual, though his attention keeps coming back to you.
Instead of pressing you further about what happened, he asks about your friend.
The question helps more than you expect. You tell him about the bookstores you wandered into and the café you found by accident, all pretty lights and beautiful little details, with coffee that was better than you expected and dessert good enough to make you regret not ordering a second one.
As you talk, the better parts of the day start coming back in pieces.
You remember the table by the window, the sound of your friend laughing across from you, and the comfort of staying longer than planned because, for once, neither of you seemed to be rushing anywhere.
He listens like the details matter.
You are grateful he doesn’t ask why you stayed out longer than you said you would. He could have. The two of you had plans, and he had still come over on time, still ordered dinner, still waited in your apartment while you turned an afternoon coffee into nearly three hours outside. Instead of making you feel guilty for enjoying it, he seems pleased that you did.
You tell him about the lipstick your friend gave you. “She gave it to me because she thought the color would suit me,” you say, glancing toward your bag near the entryway. “It’s still in my purse.”
Then your gaze drifts to him.
He is already dressed for later, and you notice it properly now that you are sitting beside him. He looks handsome enough that, on any other night, you would have teased him for it immediately, just to see the pleased little spark in his face when he realized you had been looking.
You glance down at your plate instead. “You know, we don’t really have to go out.”
Valko turns his head toward you.
“We can just stay in,” you continue, already reaching for a lighter tone. “We still have food, and we could try to make dessert or do some terrible homemade cocktails. Then we can just cuddle and watch something.”
You expect him to agree before you finish speaking.
Valko has never needed much convincing to stay close to you for hours, especially when there is food, a sofa, and an excuse to tuck himself around you until you can barely move. It is one of the things you love about him, how openly he wants the simple comfort of being near you, how little shame he has about reaching for it.
Instead, he pauses.
His face shifts into something more serious, and the change is small enough that anyone else might miss it. You do not.
“Do you want to stay in,” he asks, “or do you just not want to be seen tonight?”
You stare at him for a second. Part of you wants to be annoyed that he did not take the offer, because staying in would be warm and easy and comfortable. Another part of you knows this should not surprise you at all. Valko is sweet, almost painfully so sometimes, but he has never been the kind of sweet that lets you hide behind a convenient lie.
You look away first. “I’m a little tired.”
He keeps his attention on you.
“I know you dressed up,” you add, softer now. “Sorry, I just – ”
“That doesn’t matter.”
You stop.
He sets his plate on the coffee table and turns more toward you. “If you’re tired, we stay here. I’ll make bad drinks, you can tell me they’re bad, and I’ll still pretend I did well.” His mouth curves slightly, though his eyes stay serious. “But I’m asking if that’s the real reason.”
You press your lips together.
He waits, and somehow that makes it harder.
After a moment, you stand and take both plates. “I’m just going to rinse these.”
Valko lets you go, then follows with the empty glasses, taking his place beside you at the sink. The two of you work in silence for a minute, you rinsing, him clearing the leftovers and wiping the counter, the routine familiar.
Then he speaks more quietly.
“We can go out,” he says. “You can wear whatever you wanted to wear.”
Your hands slow under the warm water.
“I’ll be there,” he adds. “You can just enjoy your night. If someone wants to be stupid, I’ll handle it.”
The words warm your heart, and this time the smile that comes to your face feels genuine.
The question is still there, waiting for an answer you do not have yet.
“I’m going to take a quick shower,” you say.
Valko nods. “Okay.”
*
By the time you come out of the bedroom, your skin is glistening from the body lotion, your makeup is fixed, and the dress you picked for tonight is smoothed down over your thighs, though the zipper sits open along your back where you couldn’t reach it.
You pause in the doorway with one hand holding the fabric in place.
The living room has changed while you were gone. Only the lamps are on now, with pillows and a blanket spread across the sofa and a TV show playing quietly in the background. Valko’s waiting on the sofa, and when he sees you, his attention lifts immediately, his face easing into a smile that is softer than his usual grin.
You suddenly feel a little shy standing there with your back half-open and your dress held together by your fingers.
“Can you zip me up, please?” you ask.
Valko stands without making you ask twice.
His fingers find the zipper carefully, and his other hand settles near your shoulder blade just long enough to keep the fabric steady.
When he finishes, he lets his hands fall away before you turn to face him.
“So,” he says, looking you over with a small smile, “we’re going out.”
You nod, smoothing your hands down the front of the dress. “Yes. Unless you really want to stay in now.” Your gaze flicks toward the sofa, the blanket, the pillows, the room made soft for you. “It looks like you already started getting comfortable.”
Valko shakes his head. “I was ready for either answer.”
That makes something in your chest loosen.
His eyes move over your face, then settle on your lips. “Do you need to finish your makeup?”
“Oh.” You glance toward your bag. “Yes, actually.”
Valko stays where he is while you use the mirror by the door, giving you space to apply it without leaning over your shoulder.
You press your lips together, studying the color first, then the rest of your reflection. A pleased smile forms on your lips, your posture straightening a little as you look at yourself.
“There she is,” Valko says softly.
You turn toward him, suddenly flustered by the realization that you were almost posing in front of the mirror while he watched.
“You look beautiful,” he says.
“Thank you,” you say softly, your cheeks still a little warm.
Shortly after, you leave the apartment together.
*
By the time you return to the apartment, the warmth from the cocktails has already begun to fade, leaving behind only a pleasant looseness in your body and the ache in your cheeks from smiling so much.
Valko holds the door open for you, and you step inside with your heels clicking softly against the floor. After he slips out of his shoes, he heads towards the kitchen while you stay at the entryway, still taking off your heels.
While he pours the water, you look at him properly.
You had noticed him before you left, of course, but now you let yourself linger on it – the way his hair has fallen slightly out of place, the fabric of his shirt pulling around his biceps, the rolled sleeves showing his forearms. He looks unfairly handsome like this, and the sight of him makes something sweet spread through you.
When he comes closer and hands you a glass, he catches you staring.
“What?” he asks, smiling because your expression must be giving you away.
You take the water from him and let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Nothing.”
“That doesn’t look like nothing.” His eyes narrow playfully. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No.” You take a sip, then lower the glass, still smiling at him over the rim. “I was just thinking that you look really handsome tonight.”
The faintest color rises in his face.
“I see the alcohol is still in your system,” he says.
You roll your eyes. “It’s mostly gone.”
“Mostly?”
“I can feel my feet again,” you say, glancing down at your feet. “That’s how I know.”
Valko laughs under his breath.
“Sit down, sweetheart,” Valko says, taking the glass from your hand before you can ask why.
You let him lead you to the sofa, where he drapes a blanket over your lap.
“Stay here,” he says.
“Where else would I go?”
“With you, I never know.”
You make a face at him, but he only smiles and disappears toward the bathroom.
For a minute, you sit there with the TV playing in front of you, your glass of water waiting on the coffee table. You can hear him moving around in the bathroom, the rush of water, the opening and closing of a cabinet.
When he returns, he’s carrying a basin filled with warm water, faintly cloudy from the bath salts dissolving inside.
Your expression softens. “Valko.”
“What?” he says, setting it carefully on the floor in front of the sofa. “Your feet hurt.”
You look down at the water, then back at him, and the fondness in your chest feels almost too full for something so simple. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
You dip your feet into the basin, and the first touch of warm water makes your eyes close for a second as you sink deeper into the sofa.
Valko sits next to you, looking a little pleased with himself.
By the time the episode ends, the water has cooled and your whole body feels heavier in the best way, softened by the warmth, the drinks, and the steady comfort of Valko’s presence beside you.
He gets up before you can decide whether you should move, disappearing into the bathroom and returning with a towel in his hands. When he sits back down, he spreads it over his lap, then pats it lightly.
“Feet here.”
You lift your feet from the basin and place them over the towel on his lap. Valko wraps the towel around one foot first, drying you with gentle movements, then does the same with the other. He folds the damp towel aside and places your foot between his hands, pressing his thumbs into the sole.
“Oh,” you breathe, your head falling back against the cushion. “That feels really good.”
His mouth curves, but he keeps his eyes on what he is doing. “Good.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
The TV keeps playing, though you stop following the episode after a while.
Your attention drifts instead to his hands, to the way they move over your foot and up to your ankle, then higher to your calf when he shifts closer and draws your leg a little more securely across his lap.
A soft smile stays on your face.
You look from his hands to his profile, letting yourself linger on the slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. He looks calmer now than he had earlier, though there is still something attentive in him, something that keeps checking on you without needing to ask every few minutes.
Valko’s thumb presses into a tender spot near your heel, and you let out a small sound.
He glances at you.
You clear your throat and look back at the TV as if you have been paying attention the whole time.
His smile deepens, but he says nothing, only continues the massage on the other foot with the same patience.
After a while, Valko’s hands slow, his thumbs resting lightly against your arch as the episode continues playing in front of you.
You draw your legs back slowly, feet settling on the floor as you turn toward him. Valko’s gaze follows, shifting from your face to the way you’re leaning closer now.
“Tired?” he asks, softer than before.
You shake your head. “Not yet.”
Your eyes drift to his lips. When you glance up, he’s already watching you with that adoring gaze that stirs butterflies in your chest. He leans in just a fraction, then holds there, waiting.
So you close the rest of the distance yourself.
The first kiss is gentle, almost testing, your mouth brushing his before you press closer. Valko answers immediately, one hand lifting toward your back while the other stays on the sofa, giving you room to decide how much of him you want.
You kiss him again, longer this time, letting yourself sink into the warmth of his mouth, and the low sound he makes when you lean in more fully sends a pleased little shiver through your body.
After a few moments, you sit up and move before you can overthink it, swinging one leg over his lap until you are straddling him.
You slide your hands to his shoulders, then up to the sides of his neck, feeling him beneath your palms, solid and close and real. His hands settle against your back and pull you nearer before one slides down to your calf, almost absentmindedly, his fingers finding the same sore place he had been working on before. The touch is still gentle, still soothing, but now it runs through you differently as his thumb presses into your skin while his mouth moves over yours.
A small sound slips from you.
Valko’s hand pauses for half a second, then continues, slower than before.
You smile into the kiss, and he catches it, his mouth curving against yours as his palm slides along your calf. Your dress rides higher over your thighs as your fingers curl lightly at the back of his neck, and every slow movement of his hand makes you lean into him more.
Your heart beats harder in your chest, a sweet ache spreading low in your belly as his fingers trace idle patterns along your skin. You pull back just a little, and the words slip out in a soft whisper against his lips.
“Take me to the bedroom.”
Valko’s breath catches for the briefest moment, and then his arms tighten around you – one hand splaying across your lower back while the other cradles your thigh. “Hold onto me,” he murmurs. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers threading into the soft hair at his nape, and hook your legs around his waist as he rises from the sofa with effortless ease, as if you weigh nothing at all. The movement presses you even closer, your chest flush against his as his arms hold you securely, his mouth never leaving yours.
When he reaches the bedroom, the lamplight from the living room spills through the doorway, casting warm shadows across the bed. Valko sits down on the edge of the mattress with you still wrapped around him, so you settle easily back into his lap, straddling him once more.
His hands stay gentle at your waist, holding you steady on his lap as the kiss lingers between you. Being this close to him makes something in you ache softly for more. When you finally draw back enough to speak, your lips brush his.
“Unzip me, please.”
He does not hesitate. One hand leaves your waist and finds the zipper at the small of your back. He takes his time, pulling the zipper all the way down before his palm rests lightly against the bare skin he has uncovered.
Only then do you break the kiss. You rise just enough to slide the dress from your shoulders and over your hips. You step out of it slowly, standing before him in the lamplight while his gaze follows every movement.
You unhook your bra next, the straps slipping from your shoulders, and you let the garment fall away. Valko’s breath leaves him in a low, appreciative sound, but he does not reach for you yet. He waits, watching as you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and ease them down your legs. They join the rest of your clothing on the floor, and when you straighten again you are bare before him – every inch of skin touched by the soft light and the heat of his undivided attention.
A quiet thrill moves through you at the way he looks at you, like you are something precious he has been given permission to cherish.
You take a step toward him, ready to return to his lap, but his fingers wrap gently around your wrist before you can climb back onto the bed. The touch is light, yet it stills you completely. He draws your hand toward him and presses a soft kiss to the back of it, then turns it over and brushes his lips against the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. The touch sends a small shiver up your arm.
Without a word, he guides you closer to the bed. His hands settle at your waist as he helps you onto the mattress, and you lie back against the pillows.
He lifts one of your legs, his mouth finding your ankle with a slow press of lips before he gives the other the same lingering attention. Then the heat of his mouth trails upward, each kiss drawing closer, and something low in your stomach tightens with anticipation.
You watch him as he settles between your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours. The first slow drag of his tongue through your folds makes your breath hitch. He does it again, firmer this time, and your thighs instinctively part wider for him.
His hands slide under your hips, holding you steady as he licks into you with more purpose now – slow, thorough strokes that have you growing slicker by the second. When he finally seals his lips around your clit and sucks, your back arches hard off the bed with a broken moan.
Your fingers thread into his hair as your hips start to move on their own, rolling against his mouth. Valko groans at the movement, gripping your hips harder and letting you grind against his tongue, meeting every roll of your body.
The pleasure builds fast now. Every stroke of his tongue, every time he sucks on your clit, sends sparks racing through you. You can feel how wet you are, how easily his mouth moves against you. Your moans grow breathier, your thighs starting to tremble around his head as the tension coils tighter in your stomach.
You keep your eyes on him the whole time. His gaze is locked on your face, but there’s a new tension in his expression now – his pupils are blown, brows drawn, like he’s fighting to stay focused on you while his own hunger bleeds through.
And then you notice the rest of him.
His hips are moving in small, involuntary thrusts against the mattress, rutting into the bed in time with the way his mouth works over you. The sight of it – how turned on he is just from tasting you – makes you clench hard around nothing.
His name slips from your lips in a broken moan, soft at first and then louder as the heat inside you coils tighter and tighter. Valko answers with a low sound against your soaked folds, and then he murmurs right against your skin.
“I can feel you getting close... Come on my tongue, baby – I want to taste you when you do.”
One of his hands finds yours, threading your fingers together and holding on tight. Your hips move faster now, grinding down against his mouth with desperate little rolls. The moment his lips close around your clit again, the tension finally snaps.
It rolls through you in heavy, pulsing waves. Your thighs shake around his head as your fingers tighten in his hair, and a string of broken, breathless sounds spill from your lips – his name tangled with soft, incoherent praise you barely register saying.
A deep, rough groan tears from his throat as his hips jerk harder against the mattress, the movement no longer small or controlled, and the hand holding yours tightens. His eyes stay locked on your face even as they darken further, that faint crease between his brows deepening as he fights to keep his focus on you.
The knowledge that your broken praise is undoing him only makes the pleasure burn hotter, dragging another helpless moan from your throat as the last ripples of your orgasm roll through you.
For a little while, neither of you speaks. Your body feels pleasantly spent, your fingers still loosely threaded with his while your other hand moves slowly through his hair in gentle, absent strokes. Valko stays exactly where he is, his breath warm and uneven against your soaked skin. For a long moment he doesn’t move, only presses soothing kisses along the inside of your thigh, then higher, brushing his lips over the soft curve of your stomach and the sensitive crease where your hip meets your leg.
Then, instead of rising, he begins to kiss lower again.
His mouth trails back down, lips parting against your still-sensitive folds as if it is the most natural thing in the world for him to keep going.
Your fingers tighten in his hair.
“Valko,” you breathe, your voice still shaky.
He lifts his head immediately, eyes finding yours.
You swallow, your hand sliding from his hair to gently touch his jaw.
“Come here,” you say softly.
His voice comes out low and rough. “I am here.”
You shake your head, a small, almost shy smile tugging at your lips.
“Up here.”
He hesitates for a second – just long enough for you to see the way he is still caught in that deep, giving place he goes to when he has his mouth on you. Then, slowly, he begins to crawl up your body, pressing kisses as he goes. His mouth moves over your stomach, the center of your chest, your breasts.
When he finally reaches the crook of your neck, he pauses there, nuzzling into the warm space under your jaw, his nose brushing your skin as he breathes you in.
You stay like that for a while, your fingers still moving slowly through his hair while his face remains tucked against your neck.
After a moment, you speak, your voice soft and a little hoarse.
“Are you planning on taking those clothes off at some point?”
Valko lets out a quiet huff of laughter against your neck.
He lifts his head, and you see the familiar teasing smile on his lips. “Why?” he asks. “Do you want me to?”
You roll your eyes, but the smile that follows gives you away completely. Your hand slides from his hair down to the back of his neck as you pull him closer until your lips are almost brushing his.
“I need to feel you against my skin,” you whisper. “I need your warmth. Your everything.”
The teasing in his expression softens. His hand tightens gently around yours where your fingers are still linked.
Valko doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he kisses you once more before pulling back to sit up. You watch as he reaches for the buttons of his shirt, his fingers working them open one by one. The fabric parts gradually, revealing his chest and the defined muscles of his torso. He shrugs the shirt off his shoulders and lets it fall somewhere beside the bed, never once breaking eye contact with you.
When his hands move to his belt, the quiet clink of metal and the slow drag of leather send a fresh, unexpected flutter through your already sensitive core, making your thighs press together. He notices, and the corner of his mouth lifts before he finishes undoing his belt and pushes both his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion.
He steps out of the last of his clothes and returns to the bed completely bare.
The sight of him makes your breath catch. In the dim light, his cock stands thick and flushed a deep, aching red, the head glistening with precum that has already begun to leak down the shaft. He braces himself above you on one forearm before lowering his body until his full weight settles over you. The pressure is immediate and sweet, sinking into your skin and muscles in the most comforting way. His mouth finds yours at the same time, lips locking in a hungry kiss as his tongue slides against yours. You can taste yourself on him, and the realization only makes you kiss him harder, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back as you hold him close.
When you wrap your legs around his hips, the movement drags the thick length of his cock through your soaked folds. The blunt head nudges against your clit, and a broken moan slips from your throat into his mouth. He’s so hot and heavy against you, the underside of his cock gliding through your wetness with every small shift of his body.
You start to move first.
Your hips roll upward in a slow grind, coating the length with your arousal and his saliva. He follows your rhythm, the tip nudging just barely at your entrance before sliding past again, teasing you both with how close he is to sinking inside.
“I need you inside me,” you whisper against his lips. “I want to feel all of you.”
You spread your legs wider for him, opening yourself completely as he begins to ease inside, slowly and carefully. The stretch is intense and delicious, your body yielding to him while his eyes stay locked on your face, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses your expression.
Your arms wrap tighter around him, one hand sliding up to grip the back of his neck while the other stays curled on his shoulder. He holds you just as close, one arm braced beside your head, the other sliding under your back to pull you flush against him as he sinks deeper.
“You okay like this?” he asks quietly.
When you nod, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your eye. He stays there for a moment, buried deep inside you, his forehead resting lightly against yours as he just breathes with you.
Then, slowly, he begins to pull back – almost slipping out – before sinking back in. The movement pulls a soft sound from your throat, your hips lifting instinctively to meet him.
He picks up the pace gradually, each thrust growing a little heavier, a little deeper. Your arms stay wrapped tightly around him, holding him close as soft moans spill from your lips with every stroke. The heat between you builds quickly – the slick drag of his cock inside you, the way his pelvis grinds against your clit on every downward thrust, the way his breath fans hot across your mouth.
You can feel how close he is.
It’s in the way his cock keeps twitching inside you, in the tension locked through his shoulders, in the rough, broken groans that escape him. His face is tight with pleasure, brows drawn, jaw clenched as he fights to keep control.
You whisper against his lips.
“You can let go… I want you to. Don’t hold back.”
Valko shakes his head once.
“No,” he breathes. “I just… want to savor this a little longer.”
After a moment, Valko shifts his weight and wraps both arms tightly around your torso. In one smooth motion he sits up, bringing you with him until he’s kneeling on the mattress with you straddling his lap. Your legs instinctively wrap around him as you adjust, your arms sliding around his shoulders while your chests press flush together. The new angle makes him sink even deeper inside you, and the sudden fullness draws a breathless moan from your lips.
He holds you close – one strong arm wrapped around your back, the other hand gripping the curve of your ass, keeping you anchored against him. Your bare skin slides against his with every breath, your nipples brushing his chest. Neither of you speaks for a moment. You simply breathe each other in, bodies locked tight, his cock pulsing deep inside you while your arms stay wrapped around his shoulders like you never want to let go.
You begin to move first, rocking slowly against him.
Valko lets out a low, guttural sound the second you start moving. He kisses you again, but this time there’s nothing controlled about it – his tongue pushes past your lips with no hesitation, sliding against yours in a wet, hungry glide. The kiss turns messy fast. It’s all heat and spit, the wet sound of it mixing with the low groans rumbling from his chest as his teeth catch your bottom lip, grazing, nipping.
His hand on your ass tightens, fingers spreading wide as he begins to guide you. The motion stays shallow, limited by how tightly you’re pressed together, but even with how little you can move, it feels devastatingly good. Every slow circle of your hips makes his cock rub against that sensitive spot inside you while your clit drags over his pelvis, slick and swollen and aching.
“That’s it… take what you need,” he murmurs against your lips. “I love feeling you like this.”
The fullness is constant, overwhelming in the best way – every tiny shift of your body makes you feel stretched around him. Your nipples slip and slide against his sweat-damp chest with every movement, the friction making your body grow hotter.
“I can feel how close you are,” he murmurs against your lips. “I can hear it in the way you moan for me. You’re gonna come again, aren’t you?”
You can only whimper in response, your arms tightening around his shoulders as you hold on. You can feel how close he is too – the way his cock keeps twitching inside you, the tension coiled so tightly through his body, the way his breathing has turned ragged and uneven. He’s holding back, barely, and it only makes you want to push him over the edge with you.
You shift your legs, planting your feet flat on the mattress on either side of his hips. The change in angle lets you lift yourself higher, and when you sink back down, you take his thick length even deeper than before. The helpless, strained whimper that tears from Valko’s throat makes your pussy cream around him, slick and messy. His forehead drops to your shoulder, hot breath fanning over your damp skin as his arms tighten around you like he’s trying to hold himself together.
Valko lets out another broken sound against your neck as you start lifting and dropping on him. His arms lock tighter around you as he tries – and fails – to keep guiding your hips the way he was before. The new angle has him sinking impossibly deep with every stroke, and a wrecked groan tears from his throat.
“Fuck – you feel too good,” he pants, voice strained. “I’m trying to let you have this… but – ha-ah – you’re gonna make me lose it.”
You slide one hand up to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his damp hair as you roll your hips again, using your new leverage to grind down on him harder.
“I want you to come,” you breathe. “I need it. I need to feel you.”
That’s all it takes.
Valko’s hand squeezes your ass in a bruising grip as his hips jerk up to meet yours in short, desperate thrusts. His mouth latches onto the side of your neck, sucking hard while his tongue drags over your skin between bites. His sweaty chest slides against yours with every desperate grind, your nipples dragging over the slick, overheated skin. His pelvis is soaked with your arousal, and every roll of your hips grinds it firmly against your swollen clit, sending sharp, relentless sparks racing through your entire body. The combination is too much – the way he stretches you open with every thrust and the constant, filthy pressure on your clit. It builds so fast it feels dizzying.
Your climax crashes into you with overwhelming force.
A silent whimper catches in your throat before it breaks into a loud, shattered moan. Your walls clamp down around him in hard, rhythmic pulses, your thighs shaking as your fingers dig into his shoulders. The pleasure is blinding, ripping through you so intensely that all you can do is cling to him, your body trembling as wave after wave crashes over you.
Valko’s arms lock around you the second your orgasm hits. His forehead presses hard into your shoulder as his cock throbs violently inside you, and you feel the way your pussy squeezes around him, milking him. His whole body goes tense, muscles straining as he fights to hold on for just a few more seconds.
“That’s it – I’ve got you –” His voice cracks. “Just hold onto me – please – ”
His breath hitches.
He yanks your hips down hard and holds you there as he starts to come. You feel every thick pulse of his cock as he fills you – hot spurts that seem to go on and on while he keeps grinding you against him through it. His mouth finds yours in a breathless, messy kiss, all tongue, groans, and the sharp graze of teeth. He kisses you like he’s drowning as he empties himself inside you in thick, relentless waves.
He holds you so tightly against his sweat-slick body that you feel every tremor run through him, his cock still twitching and spilling deep inside you.
For a long moment, neither of you moves. You just stay like that, chests pressed together, breathing hard against each other’s skin. Then Valko tilts his head and kisses you again – slower this time, softer, lingering. When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t go far. He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, then higher, brushing his lips against your cheek.
“You okay?” he asks.
You nod, a small smile tugging at your mouth. “More than okay.”
He makes a soft sound of relief and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his nose brushing your skin as he just breathes you in. You smile against his hair, your fingers grazing his undercut… until a dull, tingling ache starts to spread through your thighs.
You shift a little, wincing. “Okay, wait. My legs are going numb.”
Valko lifts his head, blinking at you for a second. Then a quiet chuckle rumbles out of him.
He carefully helps you untangle your legs from around his waist, one hand supporting your lower back while the other guides you down onto the mattress. You stretch out with a soft sigh of relief, the sheets cool against your overheated skin. Valko stays close for a second longer, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.
“Don’t move,” he murmurs. “I’ll be right back.”
He disappears into the bathroom and returns a moment later with a warm, damp towel. You feel a little flustered when he settles between your legs again, but the look on his face is so gentle and focused that you don’t stop him. He cleans you with careful strokes, the warmth of the cloth soothing against your skin.
When the towel grazes your still-sensitive folds, you flinch a little.
“Shh,” Valko soothes, caressing your thigh with his free hand. “Just a little more.”
He finishes with the same tender care, then leans down and presses a soft kiss to the inside of your knee.
“There,” he says, tossing the towel aside. “All clean.”
He crawls back up the bed and pulls you into his arms again, tucking your head under his chin. One hand starts slowly stroking up and down your back, warm and steady.
He murmurs your name against your hair, barely more than a breath. “You okay? Really?”
You nod, your cheek pressed to his chest. “Yeah… Just a little floaty.”
He makes a pleased sound and presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“Good,” he says quietly. “You were so beautiful like that. I loved every second of it.”
You smile against his skin, a little shy. “You didn’t have to clean me up, you know.”
“I wanted to.” His fingers keep tracing slow paths along your spine. “I like taking care of you.”
There’s a short, comfortable silence. Then he shifts just enough so he can look at you, his thumb brushing your cheek.
“You need anything?” he asks. “Water? Snacks? Or just me?”
You laugh softly and burrow closer. “Just you, baby.”
He chuckles and wraps both arms around you more securely.
“Alright then,” he says, settling back against the pillows with you. “You’ve got me.”
He kisses your forehead once more and then just holds you, his breathing slowly evening out as his hand continues its gentle path up and down your back.
⚠️ This is hand drawn. Do not use without permission or get rid of my watermark or I will have to reupload with a bigger, uglier one. I want to continue sharing my art with the community, so if you’d like to support me please give me a reblog and/or follow!
At this point everything that needs to be said has already been said by everyone else. I know there have been problems with how PG/IF has been developing the game (ie. not updating the chocolate shop, not developing the other characters as much as the newer ones, etc.) but I was honestly very excited for a new character because he seemed interesting. You can want a new character AND want for things to be better in the game; those two things are not mutually exclusive.
I hope they bring him back someday. Of course he’ll never take Sylus’ number one spot for me, and he probably wouldn’t have knocked Zayne off as my number two either, but I was eager for the update before they nuked it. And to be honest, after they cancelled him I haven’t even played the kitchen update at all because it just doesn’t catch my interest in comparison to what could’ve been.
You asked for him like it could turn into something softer if you named it clearly enough and held onto it hard enough.Sylus lets you, quietly watching as you mistook his attention for permission to rewrite what he had never defined in the first place.
Pairing: Sylus x Reader (implied Non MC)
Genre: Boss x Assistant, Dark Romance, Slow Burn, Psychological Manipulation, Obsessive Dynamics, Power Imbalance Romance & Emotional Tension, Suggestive Themes & Ending not yet decided
Word count: Around 4.2k
Note: Next updates will be slow, please bear with me 🥺
Find the previous parts here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
Find my other works here: Masterlist
Kindly let me know your thoughts, feedback, ignore the grammar mistakes and reblogs would be deeply appreciated.
Sylus involuntarily stared at the phone resting on his desk.
He had managed to repair it.
Every cracked component had been replaced, every loose wire secured back into place. It looked almost brand new now.
Almost.
His thumb hovered over the power button, but he couldn't bring himself to press it. A deep exhale escaped his lips as he leaned back against his chair, the leather creaking beneath his weight.
The office was quiet.
Too quiet.
In the dim lighting, the glow of the N109's skyline seeped through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shifting patterns across the ceiling. His crimson eyes followed those shapes absentmindedly, letting the silence stretch around him.
Minutes passed.
Nothing changed.
Eventually, Sylus pushed himself out of the chair.
"...Not now."
The phone remained where it was. He had a bottle of bourbon waiting for him. The living room was just as he had left it. A bottle already rested on the coffee table.
He lowered himself onto the couch facing the front entrance and poured himself another glass.
The amber liquid swirled lazily before he brought it to his lips.
One glass became two.
Two became four.
Somewhere along the line, he stopped counting altogether. By the time he reached for another pour, only a few stubborn drops trickled into the glass.
"...Tch."
Empty.
With an irritated groan, Sylus stood.
The alcohol had settled heavily into his limbs. His movements were slower now, lacking their usual precision.
Halfway, his knee clipped the edge of the coffee table. The impact sent him stumbling forward.
"Fuck—"
His hand shot out instinctively, catching himself before he hit the ground.
For a brief second he simply remained there, one palm braced against the table, head lowered as the room tilted around him. Then, with another quiet curse, he straightened himself and continued toward his office.
He barely managed to reach the liquor cabinet.
Pulling another bottle free, he twisted the cap off without ceremony and took a long swig straight from it.
The burn barely registered anymore. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
His gaze drifted.
The phone.
Still sitting exactly where he'd left it.
Waiting. Almost mockingly.
Bottle still clutched in one hand, Sylus crossed the room and picked up the device with the other. His thumb lingered over the power button.
Then—
He pressed it.
The loading screen illuminated the dark office.
His vision blurred for a second, forcing him to blink several times before the image sharpened again.
Come on...
The loading icon spun.
Then finally—
The home screen appeared.
Almost instantly, the phone erupted into life. Message notifications.
Business emails.
Mission reports.
Missed calls.
Updates.
Messages from business partners.
Messages from MC.
The endless symphony of notification chimes filled the office. Sylus ignored every single one. His eyes searched for only one name.
Y/N.
Nothing.
Another long sigh escaped him. He lifted the bottle again, taking another slow drink before staggering backwards.
His heel caught against the leg of his chair.
He stumbled.
A hollow laugh escaped him.
"...Pathetic."
He tossed the bottle aside, completely ignoring the sharp crash of glass shattering against the floor.
He didn't even look. Instead, he opened your conversation. The last thing staring back at him was still his own message.
Unread.
His brows knitted together.
Unread...
Then his thoughts drifted—
The image Mephisto had shown him earlier.
You.
Walking through the park.
Hand in hand with another man.
His jaw tightened.
Yet almost immediately, another memory shoved itself to the forefront. "She said... her neck needed stitches." Luke's hesitant voice echoed through his mind. "Boss... she left us. We don't even know if she wants to come back."
Sylus closed his eyes.
As if shutting them would silence the words.
Instead—
Another voice followed.
"If an apology... an admission that you were wrong to hurt her... could bring her back... wouldn't you do it?"
His grip around the phone tightened. Too tight. The memory changed again.
Your blood.
Warm.
Fresh.
Running between his fingers. His entire body flinched. His gaze instinctively dropped to his own hand.
Even now—
He could almost see it. A phantom stain that refused to disappear. After several long seconds, Sylus inhaled deeply.
Then opened your chat once more.
His thumb hovered over the call icon.
One press.
The ringtone echoed softly through the speaker. His heartbeat slowed.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Then—
The call connected. Relief flooded through him so suddenly it almost hurt. He parted his lips.
"...Do—"
"What's the use of calling her multiple times when you already know she's not going to answer?"
Sylus froze. Slowly, he pulled the phone away from his ear. He stared at the screen.
Y/N.
It was your number. He hadn't misdialed. His brows furrowed. Silently, he lifted the phone back to his ear.
"She isn't some toy that'll fall back into your arms because you decided enough time has passed."
"You spilled her blood."
A beat.
"Don't ever forget that."
Then, quieter—
"Now piss off."
The line went dead. The office fell silent. Sylus remained standing exactly where he was. Phone still pressed against his ear.
He didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
The only sound left was the faint hum of the disconnected call. Several long seconds passed before his arm finally lowered. His thumb curled around the phone. His grip tightened.
For one dangerous moment—
He almost threw it.
His arm even twitched.
But...
It stopped halfway.
Slowly...
Very slowly...
He lowered the phone instead. The room suddenly felt impossibly empty. He made his way back toward the office’s couch.
Every step heavier than the last.
Without bothering to turn on any lights, he dropped onto the couch. His head fell back against the cushions. Eyes closed. The silence from the call replayed louder than any conversation ever could.
His phone vibrated.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
MC.
He didn't answer. The screen continued lighting up beside him. Sylus simply let it ring.
The Next Day
Sylus was jolted awake by a harsh, persistent onslaught of knocking on his office door. He groaned, sitting up and digging his fingers into his temples to combat the vicious hangover.
"What?"
Luke opened the door slightly.
“Miss Hunter is here.”
That made Sylus pause. Slowly, he lowered his hand.
"She's here?"
“She insisted. Said she’s been trying to reach you since last night.”
Sylus’s eyes flicked down to the phone.
Missed calls.
MC.
No messages from you.
Nothing.
Something in his jaw tightened, subtle but real. He stood up, stretching his towering frame as he walked past Luke. "Get ready for the mission. I'll deal with her."
Luke nodded and retreated, while Sylus marched into the living room. MC was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a deep, bitter scowl twisting her features.
"What's the purpose of your visit?" Sylus asked flatly.
She scoffed, standing up.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a response from you?”
Sylus didn’t move, like the weight of the night still hadn’t fully left him.
“…Good morning.”
MC scoffed.
“Don’t do that. I’ve been calling you all night.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you pick up?”
A beat.
Sylus exhaled through his nose.
“Phone issues.”
That wasn’t a lie.
But it wasn’t an explanation either. MC stepped closer, but the moment she got within a few feet, she sharply stepped back, pinching her nose in sheer disgust.
"Did you fucking drink the whole liquor store? You reek, Sylus."
Sylus merely shrugged, leaning his shoulder casually against the wall. "What's the crisis, Miss Hunter? The one that required you to venture into the N109 zone again."
“Your assistant is causing problems.”
That word.
Assistant.
Sylus’s gaze sharpened slightly.
"Is this about the previous issue—"
“No. She went behind my back. She spoke to Captain Jenna about me. About allegations.”
Silence.
Sylus tilted his head slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a dark chuckle. "Now, now. That's a rather baseless accusation, Miss Hunter."
"It's not! Captain Jenna summoned me to the Hunters' Association headquarters last night because of 'gross misconduct' I've apparently committed."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then Sylus spoke.
“…And?”
That one word shifted everything.
MC blinked.
“…And? That’s all you have to say?”
Sylus didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he looked at her properly for the first time.
Calm.
Detached.
Almost tired.
MC’s face tightened.
"Captain Jenna met up with her yesterday—"
"Yesterday?" Sylus’s eyes narrowed, his mind flashing to the park footage.
"Yes! Apparently, some dude was the one who spilled the entire story about what happened at the base. Jenna was furious and demanded the absolute truth from me. I had to tell her everything, Sylus… and she sent me home for a pending investigation."
MC stepped closer, desperation leaking into her eyes. "Sylus, you better fix this. I demand that you fix this right now."
"Demand?" Sylus scoffed, a dark, dangerous smirk playing on his lips.
"You're asking me to fix a situation that you entirely caused yourself?"
MC stared at him in complete shock, clearly not expecting him to turn on her.
“If they spoke to Jenna,” he said slowly, “then there was a reason.”
MC’s disbelief cracked into anger.
“So you’re just going to side with her?”
Silence.
Then—
“Yes.”
Simple.
Final.
MC froze.
For a second, she looked like she hadn’t processed it correctly.
MC stepped closer.
“You’re letting her ruin everything I’ve built.”
Sylus’s gaze dropped slightly.
Then lifted again.
Cold.
"Sorry, I can't help you with your career issues, Miss Hunter. You'll have to fix this yourself."
Silence.
MC stopped moving.
“…What?”
Sylus turned and walked past her. "What I let out in a moment of trust… caused all of this to happen."
Before he could take another step, MC lunged forward, grabbing his wrist tightly to halt his movement.
"Why do you only think about her?! Why are you defending her? I'm about to lose my entire career, and you just don't seem to care! Why?!"
Sylus paused. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head to look down at her. Her face was completely fallen, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
"Why are you behaving so coldly to me… when I need you the most?" she whispered.
"Miss Hunter—"
"Why are you pushing me away? You're acting like this because of that bitch! What about me? What about us?"
"Us?" Sylus let out a hollow, mocking laugh. "Now you're talking about an 'us'? What about it? I'm actually curious, Miss Hunter. What exactly are we?"
MC sniffled, her voice trembling. "You love me, don't you?"
"Love?" Sylus’s crimson eyes were completely dead as he looked at her tears, feeling absolutely nothing.
"I don't think so. I've never put a label on anything here, and I gave you plenty of opportunities to do so. But you chose to ignore my advances. Now, when your perfect little world is crumbling and you're about to lose everything, suddenly it's 'I love you' and 'what about us'..." He tilted his head. "How stupid."
MC didn’t move.
“…This is about her.”
Sylus didn’t answer.
That was his answer.
MC’s voice sharpened again, trying to rebuild control.
"It's because of her, right? That slut is ruining—"
Sylus violently yanked his wrist out of her grip, his expression shifting into something genuinely terrifying.
“Leave.”
The word wasn’t raised.
But it ended everything.
MC stood frozen for a second longer. Then turned.
And walked out.
The door shut behind her. No echo of resolution. Just silence.
Meanwhile
You were perched on the wide windowsill of Gideon's apartment, sitting cross-legged as you stared out at the sprawling landscape, watching the tiny passerby below. Your phone lay untouched on the cushion beside you.
"Wanna go clubbing tonight?"
You lazily turned your head. Gideon was leaning against the doorway, a bright, easy smile on his lips.
"Clubbing?"
"Yeah. You need to lose that morose cloud floating around you."
You scoffed, turning back to the window. "There's nothing morose about me."
"Uh-huh. And I'm the President of France."
You grabbed a nearby throw pillow and hurled it directly at his face. He caught it effortlessly, grinning as he held up his phone.
"Jen invited us out to that new exclusive spot in Linkon."
"Captain Jenna?" you asked, shifting around. "She still wants to see us after the complete disaster of yesterday?"
Gideon shrugged.
"She's cool like that. Now wanna go or nah?"
You shrugged, a small part of you wanting to escape the heavy thoughts anchoring you down.
"Yeah. Maybe it'll help get my mind off things."
Gideon let out a fake, loud cough. "Like Sylus?"
"Tch. Shut up, Gid. What time are we leaving?"
"Around 10 PM-ish. Dress nice."
Club — Night
Later that night, the bass from the club's massive sound system vibrated right through the soles of your shoes. You were sitting at the sleek neon-lit bar, nursing an Aperol spritz.
You watched from afar as Gideon and Jenna navigated the crowded dance floor together, laughing and moving to the rhythm. You smiled to yourself, they genuinely looked cute together.
Then—
“Mind if I sit here?”
You didn’t look immediately.
“…Depends.”
A man.
Overconfident tone.
Wrong kind of confidence.
You already knew.
“I want to be left alone,” you said.
He threw his head back, laughing loudly as if you’d told a joke. Sliding his stool closer, he leaned into your personal space, whispering near your ear.
"Not when you're dressed like that, sweetheart."
You ignored him, taking a deliberate sip of your drink. He pressed closer, his breath smelling of cheap tequila. "Wanna get out of here?"
You shifted slightly away.
You eyed him coldly from the corner of your vision. "I'm good."
"Come on, pretty girl. We can have some real fun. Just the two of us. What do you say, hmm?"
Before you could stop him, he slid his hand onto your thigh, his fingers brushing right where the high slit of your dress parted. A wave of irritation washed over you. You sharply pulled your leg away, your voice hardening. "No."
"Come on. Let's just go. I promise I'll make it worthwhile."
He grabbed your forearm, his grip tightening as he tried to pull you off the stool.
"I said no, dude. Back the fuck off from me right now!"
You wrenched your arm free, stood up, and immediately walked away, intending to head to the washroom to regroup. But the dance floor was packed, and as you pushed through the swaying bodies near the back corridor, a hand suddenly clamped around your wrist again.
It was him. Utilizing the chaos of the crowd, he violently dragged you backward, throwing his weight against the heavy door of the emergency staircase to slip you inside the quiet, isolated concrete hallway. The heavy metal door slammed shut, cutting the blasting music down to a muffled thud.
You were thrown hard against the concrete wall, a painful hiss escaping your lips as your shoulder took the impact. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
He laughed.
“Still talking tough?”
He stepped closer.
Too close now.
Your fingers instinctively slid down to the inner hem of your dress, reaching for the emergency silver dagger strapped tightly to your thigh.
But before your fingers could even touch the hilt, the man froze.
Everything stopped.
Not metaphorically.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
His body jerked.
Forward.
Then still.
A sound — wet, final.
He froze completely.
Then—
He was pulled off you.
Violently.
Thrown across the stairwell. Impact echoed.
You stayed still for half a second. Breathing steady. Then slowly looked up.
Just popping in with a little check-in. With everything that’s been happening in the fandom lately, I was wondering… are you all still interested in ‘Before it becomes love?
I’ve been quietly working on the next chapter, so if you’re still here and ready for more emotional damage (and chaos 👀), leave me a ❤️🩹, a reply, or a reblog so I know you’re still with me.
Summary: On paper, Zayne was the perfect husband. Attentive, kind, successful. But whenever he was around MC, he looked at her like she was the centre of his world. And that raised the question. What in the world were you - his wife - supposed to be?
Pairings: Non MC x Zayne, MC x Sylus, Blythe x Caleb
Tags: Angst, hurt, comfort, MNDI, soft smut, piv sex, AU, no evol, the LADS are in their 30s, it gets worse before it gets better, emotional infidelity
Word count: 5.5k
A/N: I'm back! Thought about posting this tomorrow, but I have no patience! Hope that I didn't miss any mistakes, hehe.
This chapter is a deep dive into MC's POV. She is not necessarily a bad person, but she is careless and selfish. I like the idea that it is not just Sylus that starts changing her, but also the women around her, like Blythe and the Reader.
Hope you enjoy! 💖💖 Like it? Hate it? Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! Also, consider reblogging so this story gets seen by more people!
Dividers by @orieriee and @diviniyae
Growing up, MC was never truly alone. She had Caleb, of course. He was her brother, her protector, and her closest confidant. He was the kind of big brother other girls could only dream of. He’d brush her hair, help her with her homework, and carry her when she was too exhausted to walk, or, more accurately, when she just couldn't be bothered.
Then there was Zayne. Brilliant, intuitive, and effortlessly perfect at everything he attempted. The kind of boy that others would be willing to walk on hot coals to befriend.
MC recognized that she wasn’t uniquely gifted. She wasn’t great at school or sports. She had her charms, but she knew that she wasn’t breathtakingly beautiful. Just pretty, cute and pushy in a way others found attractive. However, she possessed a far more useful talent. An innate ability to draw in people who were remarkable. She never needed to excel because she had a circle of exceptional friends willing to handle the world for her.
Caleb and Zayne were beautifully transparent. She knew exactly which strings to pull to make them anxious, angry, thrilled, or content. A single sentence from her could leave them entirely speechless or make them blush on command. It was a subtle, intoxicating power, and she thrived on the rush it gave her. She loved them both, yet she loved neither of them. Deep down, she knew she was selfish, perhaps even a bit cruel, but she rarely paused to dwell on it. To the outside world, she was just an innocent, sweet girl who easily charmed everyone she met.
Then Sylus disrupted the perfect little life she’d created. He was everything her usual companions were not. Worst of all, he saw right through her carefully crafted mask, and that stripped away her control.
Their first encounter happened as she walked out from a shop to her motorcycle. A remarkably tall, strikingly handsome man was leaning casually against it, looking relaxed and entirely at home.
"Excuse me?" MC frowned, stopping a few paces away and cocking a hip. "Just what do you think you're doing?"
"Waiting for the owner," he replied, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered.
"Well, you're looking at her."
"You blocked my car."
"You have plenty of space to—oh." She cut herself off, glancing past him. She actually had pinned him in. "Right. Well... Sorry about that. I'll move it."
"Thank you."
Somehow, the calm, measured tone of his voice made her want to be intentionally difficult. She scowled.
"Do you always have such an attitude?" he asked. A faint smile touched his lips as she deliberately brushed past him to grip the handlebars.
"Yep."
"Hm. Then I suppose I will have to get used to it."
"No, you won't," she countered, straddling the seat. "Because I'm not planning on ever seeing you again."
"Are you certain I can't convince you to have dinner with me?"
Damn, his eyes were hypnotic. She looked away, hating how nervous she felt.
"I don't eat dinner."
"Ever?"
"I don't eat dinner with condescending asses."
"Sylus."
MC blinked, looking up to meet his gaze. "What?"
"My name is Sylus," he repeated patiently.
"Whatever," she muttered, kicking the engine to life to drown him out and getting away from him as fast as she could.
That encounter was only the beginning of a string of suspicious coincidences. Suddenly, Sylus was inescapable. No matter where she went in the city, she caught fleeting glimpses of silver hair and sharp, crimson eyes in the crowd. It irritated her to her core. It absolutely thrilled her.
Two weeks later, MC was sitting in the corner booth of a dimly lit, high-end cafe, waiting for Caleb. She had her phone out and was scrolling idly through her photos.
Then the bell above the door chimed and a sudden shift in the room's atmosphere made her look up.
Sylus walked in.
He wore a tailored black coat that made him look even broader and more imposing than before. It seemed like every patron at the cafe took notice. Conversations quieted and the barista instantly straightened up. Sylus didn't look around the room. He didn't need to. His crimson eyes locked directly onto MC’s booth as if he had tracked her there.
Before she could pack her things to leave, he slid effortlessly into the empty seat directly across from her.
"We meet again," Sylus said, leaning back and resting his arm along the top of the leather booth. "What a truly fascinating coincidence."
MC slowly set her phone down on the table. She forced a sweet smile onto her face. It was the exact expression that usually made Caleb or Zayne soften instantly. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm actually waiting for someone. I'd appreciate it if you found another table."
Sylus didn't blink. He just stared at her, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading across his face.
"Save the performance," he murmured, leaning forward. The warmth of his breath cut through the cool air between them. "The sweet and cute routine works on the others, I'm sure. But you and I both know you're looking for a certain reaction. And you're not going to get that one from me."
MC’s smile dropped instantly. Her eyes narrowed, the mask slipping. "You are incredibly arrogant."
"I am. And observant too," Sylus agreed smoothly. He tapped a finger on the tabletop. "You like being the one in control. You like knowing exactly what makes men tick. But you can't figure me out, can you? And it’s driving you crazy."
She wanted to slap him. She wanted to storm out. But deep down, a dark, wicked spike of adrenaline shot through her veins. He was right, and the fact that he dared to say it out loud was the most exhilarating thing she had felt in years.
"You don't know anything about me," she hissed, leaning in closer so that the people sitting at the surrounding tables couldn't hear.
"I know enough to get the picture," Sylus replied softly, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. He stood up just as quickly as he had sat down, tossing a sleek black card onto the table in front of her. "Call me when you're tired of playing safe with boys who only see what you let them see. Let's find out what happens when you play with someone who knows exactly what you are."
He turned and walked out, leaving her staring at the card with a racing heart and a furious, thrilled smile she couldn't quite hide.
The bell above the door chimed again, shattering the tense silence Sylus had left behind.
MC quickly snatched the sleek black card from the table, slipping it into her pocket just as Caleb walked into the cafe. He was scanning the room, his expression relaxing the moment his eyes landed on her.
"Sorry I'm late, pips," Caleb said, jogging over and sliding into the seat Sylus had vacated only moments before. He reached across the table, playfully messing up her hair. It was a familiar gesture that usually made her roll her eyes affectionately but just made her annoyed now. "Traffic was a nightmare. Have you been waiting long?"
MC forced her standard, sweet smile back onto her face, but her heart was still hammering against her ribs. "No, not long at all. Just a few minutes."
Caleb’s smile faltered slightly. His protective instincts were razor-sharp, honed by years of catering to her every whim. He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he scanned her face. "Are you okay? Your cheeks are flushed. And you look… Did someone bother you while I was gone?"
"No," she said, her reply a little too quick. "No one bothered me."
Caleb didn't look convinced. He glanced around the cafe, his posture subtly stiffening as he looked for any potential threats. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Or like you're about to punch someone. If some guy was hitting on you—"
"Caleb, I'm fine," she interrupted, putting on her best innocent, tired pout. She reached out and lightly touched his arm, knowing exactly how to redirect his focus. "I just didn't sleep well last night. Can we just get some food? I'm starving."
The pout worked perfectly. Caleb’s defensive posture melted instantly, replaced by the familiar, easy-to-manage warmth she was so used to exploiting. "Yeah, of course. This place doesn’t look that good, though. Let's get out of here. I'll buy you whatever you want."
He stood up and reached for her bag, carrying it for her without her even having to ask. MC followed him out, playing the part of the pampered, grateful little sister perfectly. But as they walked out into the cool air, her fingers subconsciously traced the sharp edges of the black card hidden in her pocket.
Caleb was safe. Caleb was easy. But for the first time in her life, easy was starting to feel incredibly boring.
That evening, MC found herself sitting in the quiet, sterile atmosphere of Zayne’s office. He was finishing up his final patient charts for the day, his focus entirely consumed by the glowing monitor.
MC sat on the edge of his examination table, swinging her legs idly. On the outside, she looked as if she was simply waiting patiently for her brilliant childhood friend to finish his work so they could catch a late movie. On the inside, her mind was a chaotic mess, the heavy black card in her pocket reminding her of the man that shook her to the very core.
Zayne finally closed the laptop. He removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking over at her. His gaze was steady, piercing, and entirely clinical. He had known her for too long, and while Caleb noticed her moods, Zayne noticed her micro-expressions.
"You're quiet tonight," Zayne observed, his voice deep and measured as he stepped closer. He reached out, his cool fingers gently pressing against the side of her neck to check her pulse.
MC didn't pull away. She leaned into his touch, tilting her head up with a soft, practiced gaze. "Just tired. It's been a long day."
Zayne’s thumb stroked the line of her jaw. His expression remained entirely neutral, but his thumb lingered a second too long—a subtle giveaway of the control she usually held over him. "Your heart rate is elevated. Your pupils are slightly dilated. You aren't tired. You're agitated."
MC smirked inwardly. She loved how easy he was to read beneath that icy exterior. "Are you diagnosing me, Doctor Li?"
"I am observing you," Zayne corrected, his eyes narrowing slightly as he picked up on the faint, mocking edge in her voice. "Caleb mentioned you seemed off at the cafe earlier. He thought you were upset. But I think you're hiding something."
He leaned in a fraction closer, his presence commanding and protective, yet entirely predictable to her. He was waiting for her to confess. They had their roles to play when it came to these encounters. He wanted be her shoulder to lean on. The one who’d figure her out when others couldn’t. And her role in this was to let him think that he could.
"I'm not hiding anything, Zayne," she murmured softly, letting her voice drop to that sweet, vulnerable pitch that always made his icy demeanour thaw. "Can't I just want to spend time with you without being examined or interrogated?"
Zayne stared at her for a long moment. A faint, almost imperceptible softening appeared at the corners of his eyes. He sighed, dropping his hand from her face. "Fine. But if something is troubling you, you tell me. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," she smiled, sliding off the table.
As she walked ahead of him toward the door, her smile faded into a bored line. Zayne’s analytical mind was impressive, but he was still fundamentally blind to who she actually was. He saw a fragile girl who needed looking after and fixing.
She reached into her pocket, her fingertips grazing the embossed name on the card: Sylus. Zayne and Caleb were a beautifully constructed safety net, but Sylus was the chaos that she actually craved.
And so two days later she called him. One meeting became two. And the thrill of seeing him kept her coming back. For the first time in her life she didn’t tell Caleb or Zayne. She cradled the secret close to her heart and kept it safe from the world. But she knew that she’d eventually have to tell others. Except she didn’t want her adoptive brother or her best friend be the first ones to know. She wanted to practice on someone who wasn’t so emotionally invested when it came to her.
The opportunity to confide in someone arrived entirely by accident. MC was sitting at an outdoor terrace downtown, nursing an iced coffee, when she caught that undeniable flash of silver hair across the street. Sylus was stepping out of a sleek, black SUV that clearly belonged to someone else. He didn't see her, but the sheer presence he commanded pulled her eyes straight to him.
"Is that who I think it is?"
She jumped, nearly spilling her drink.
“Oh hi!” MC looked up to find Blythe, Caleb’s girlfriend, standing beside her with a raised eyebrow. “Yep, just chilling on my own. The city is getting so hot these days! You know how it is!”
What were the words that were coming out of her mouth? MC took a very purposeful sip of her coffee so she wouldn’t say anything else.
“Sure. Mind if I sit? My legs are killing me.”
Blythe had a ton of shopping bags with her which she tried to arrange neatly under the small table. Whilst the other woman picked up the menu, MC found her attention and her eyes drifting in another direction.
Blythe frowned when she realised MC was not responding to her question about desserts and followed MC's intense gaze.
Realizing she had been caught staring, MC quickly grabbed her own menu with slightly sharing fingers.
"Who is that?" Blythe asked, crossing her arms as she glanced at the towering, sharply dressed man who was now speaking to someone in a tailored suit. "He looks like he owns half the city, or at least a highly illegal part of it."
MC bit her lip, her mind racing. For the first time the urge to talk about the storm brewing in her life was so overwhelming that talking about it to just about anyone would do. "His name is Sylus. We... keep running into each other."
"Sylus?" Blythe repeated the name. "And what exactly does a guy like that do?"
MC’s mouth felt a little dry. Blythe was not Caleb. MC knew that the other woman didn’t like her or her antics, hating how Caleb would just drop everything in an instant to come running to help his sister. Although, admittedly, it happened less and less nowadays. Between his genuine feelings for his girlfriend and Blythe’s no-nonsense attitude, MC found herself on her best behaviour.
Panicking under Blythe’s sharp gaze, MC blurted out the first ridiculous thing that came to mind. "He’s a fruit vendor. He... wholesale distributes organic produce. Exotic fruits. That's why he's always driving around and meeting up with people!"
Blythe stared at MC. Then she looked across the street at Sylus, who was currently buttoning a designer coat, his crimson eyes gleaming even from a distance as he handed over a briefcase.
Blythe looked back at MC, her expression deadpan. "A fruit vendor. Right. MC, that man is wearing a watch that costs more than most people’s houses. He is absolutely not selling pineapples."
MC flushed, realizing how terrible her lie was. She reached across the table and grabbed Blythe’s hands, dropping the act entirely. "Look, it doesn't matter what he does. The point is, Caleb cannot know about him. At all. If Caleb finds out some dangerous-looking guy is constantly showing up around me, he will lose his shit. Please, Blythe. Don't tell him."
Blythe’s expression shifted from amused scepticism to deep annoyance. She slowly pulled her hands away from MC's grasp.
"Are you serious right now?" Blythe asked, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You’re asking me to lie to Caleb? My boyfriend? Your brother?"
"It’s not lying, it’s just... not mentioning it," MC pleaded, trying to use her usual soft, persuasive tone.
"It is lying, MC," Blythe snapped, visibly irritated. "Caleb tells me everything, and I don't keep secrets from him. Especially not secrets about his little sister hanging around a dangerous-looking millionaire who you're trying to pass off as a literal fruit salesman. You're putting me in a horrible position!"
MC watched Blythe, a sudden chill running through her. Blythe wasn't Caleb, and she wasn't Zayne. She couldn't be manipulated by a pout, tears or a gentle touch.
Blythe stood up, gripping her shopping bags tightly. "I'm not going to run to Caleb the second I see him, but if he asks me why you're acting weird, or if that… fruit vendor shows up near him, I am not covering for you. You need to figure out whatever game you’re playing, MC, before someone gets seriously hurt."
With that, Blythe turned and walked away, leaving MC sitting alone at the table. MC looked back across the street, but the black SUV was already pulling away from the curb. Her hands trembled slightly. Not out of fear, but out of a sudden, dangerous rush of adrenaline. The cracks were starting to show in her perfect little world, and she didn’t want to do anything to stop it from happening.
That same evening, feeling furious and entirely out of options, MC decided that Blythe was right. As much as she loved spending time with Sylus, adored his dry humour and that dangerous look he’d get in his eyes whenever she started being difficult, it was time to put an end to the game. She called him and asked, no- demanded that they meet in the next hour.
Exactly an hour later, she found herself standing in the private lounge of an exclusive, upscale club downtown. The room was dark, smelling faintly of expensive leather. Sylus was sitting alone on a velvet sofa, a glass of amber liquid resting between his fingers. He didn’t look surprised to see her looking so agitated; in fact, he looked like he had been expecting this reaction from her all along.
"A fruit vendor?" Sylus asked, his deep voice carrying a dark, mocking amusement. "Is that really the best you could come up with?"
MC slammed her purse down onto the table between them, her sweet, innocent mask completely discarded. She didn’t even bother to ask how he knew.
"You're ruining my life! Everything was perfect until you came along!"
Sylus slowly set his glass down. He stood up, his massive, imposing frame casting a long shadow over her as he closed the distance between them.
"Perfect, you say? Your perfect little world was built on lies, sweetie. You don't want peace. You want control. And you hate me because you can't control me."
"I hate you because you're an arrogant ass!" she snapped, refusing to back down even as he stepped directly into her personal space.
"You hate me because I see you," Sylus corrected softly. He leaned down, his crimson eyes locking onto hers with a piercing intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. "I see the selfish, wicked girl hiding behind that pretty smile. The one who toys with boys because she's too afraid of a real man. Tell me, MC... are you actually angry? Or are you just thrilled that someone finally called your bluff?"
MC opened her mouth to argue, to scream at him, but no words came out. Her heart was hammering violently against her ribs. He was entirely right. The chaos, the danger, the terrifying loss of control... It was the most alive she had ever felt.
Sylus picked his glass up and took a sip, not looking away from her as he did so. The amber liquid caught the light. She grabbed the glass out of his hand and finished the drink, coughing as it burned on its way down.
She was fuming. Her chest rose and fell with sharp, aggravated breaths.
"I'm mean," MC muttered, her voice tight. She glared at him. "I'm meaner than you think. And selfish."
Sylus let out a low, rough chuckle. He didn't look remotely upset or intimidated. Instead, he tracked her movements with dark, amused eyes.
"How unfortunate for those around you," he murmured, his tone dripping with mock sympathy.
"And awful." MC's free hand balled into a fist.
"Hm... Keep going," he challenged with that ever-present, infuriating smirk.
"It's not funny, Sylus! When I’m with you, it’s like the worst of me wants to come out. With my brother, with my- my friend… At least with them I try to pretend I'm good."
Sylus took the glass from her and set it down with a soft click. He took a step towards her, his towering frame instantly shifting the gravity in the room. He closed the distance between them until she had to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. It was electric between them, the energy all but thrumming faintly in the air, a heavy, magnetic pull.
"The difference between that doctor and I," he said, voice dropping an octave, making sure that MC knew that he’d done his homework when it came to her and those around her, "is that his timing is terrible." Sylus raised an eyebrow at her incredulous face expression, a dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
He leaned in, his breath brushing her ear.
"And you?" she gasped when she felt his warm lips on her skin.
"I am an opportunist," he whispered, moving away to look straight into her eyes. Sylus caught her chin between his fingers, his grip firm but careful. His smirk widened into something genuinely thrilled when her lips parted and her tongue darted out for a brief moment.
"And you, kitten," he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly purr. "Should take this opportunity. Let's give us a chance and see what happens. Let’s see just how mean you can be."
The sheer audacity of his words stripped away the last of her restraint. She was tired of the calculating games, tired of being dissected, and desperately tired of him always being one step ahead of her. She wanted to shatter his smug composure, to force a reaction out of him that he hadn’t meticulously planned.
Before her rational mind could stop her, MC reached up, grabbed the lapels of his designer coat, and pulled him down into a fierce, reckless kiss that was more a fight for the upper hand than a show of affection.
It was a collision of pure friction and built-up tension. She expected him to be shocked or at least caught off guard by her sudden aggression. Instead, after a fraction of a second of stillness, Sylus let out a low, gravelly growl that vibrated straight through her chest.
His hand shot up, his large fingers tangling into her hair to hold her in place. He didn’t just accept the kiss. Sylus took total command of it, deepening it with a dark, bruising intensity that stole the remaining air from her lungs. The sheer, overwhelming power of his grip made her knees buckle, but he held her flush against his frame, completely unbothered by her weight.
When he finally pulled back, just an inch or two, his breath was hot against her lips. His crimson eyes were darker now, flashing with a dangerous, feral amusement.
"Is that your way of silencing me?" Sylus murmured, his thumb firmly tracing her lower lip, which was now slightly swollen from the force of the kiss. He wasn't flustered. If anything, he looked entirely victorious. "A very bold move. But it only proves my point. You're reckless when you're cornered, sweetie."
MC stared up at him, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her breath. Her plan to unmask him had backfired completely. All she had managed to do was invite the chaos right inside.
“So… willing to give this a try, are we?” he asked, his voice a low vibration.
“Yes.”
Because she was done playing it safe. She wanted this and she knew that she didn’t want to go back to the way that she was.
A year later, she was walking down the aisle and she was absolutely, without even a slither of doubt sure that she was doing the right thing.
To the rest of the world, it was the wedding of the century. Caleb stood in the front row, his expression a mix of fierce protection and bittersweet acceptance, still believing his little sister was the sweet, fragile girl he had all but raised. Zayne stood nearby, his face still but his gaze betraying a quiet, stoic resignation. Blythe looked on with as much approval as possible, given the fact that she didn’t like either the bride or groom all that much.
MC didn’t care about their opinions. As she reached the altar, her gaze locked onto Sylus. He stood tall and imposing in a tailored black tuxedo, his silver hair catching the light and his crimson eyes gleaming with a familiar, dangerous amusement. He knew the truth. He knew exactly what kind of woman was hiding beneath the lace and veil.
When he took her hand, his grip was firm, warm, and entirely unyielding. He leaned in close as the priest began the vows, his voice a low, private whisper meant only for her.
"Still playing a role, sweetie?" he murmured, a slow smirk touching his lips.
MC tilted her head up, a sharp, wicked smile cutting through the facade. "Only for the audience, Sylus. You know I save my worst behaviour just for you."
"Good," Sylus whispered, his eyes flashing darkly. "Because I'm looking forward to a lifetime of it."
They exchanged rings and to her it felt less like a traditional promise and more like a mutual pact. When he pulled her in for the kiss, it wasn't the gentle, romantic gesture one would expect. It was deep, possessive, and thick with the familiar intoxicating energy.
The crowd erupted into applause. Caleb shook his head, a strained but genuine smile on his lips as he muttered something under his breath. Zayne clapped with the absolute bare minimum of polite effort required by etiquette, his brow furrowing slightly as he watched Sylus and MC break apart.
She didn’t care. MC found the only man in the world who called her out, tamed her and made her purr for him. As the applause washed over them, MC looked out at the two men who had known her longest. She saw the tight set of Caleb’s jaw and the heavy, silent concern in Zayne’s eyes. For a split second, a pang of bittersweet affection hit her. But it was almost instantly swallowed up by the thrill she felt from Sylus’s hand at her waist. She didn't offer them an apology or a look of reassurance. Instead, she let out a breathless, radiant laugh, leaning heavily into Sylus’s side. She wanted them— no! The whole world to see that she was utterly, unapologetically ruined for anyone else.
She was intoxicatingly, desperately in love and she didn’t care what others thought of her choice.
"Mm... I have to say, you were right to insist on choosing the limo," Sylus nipped at her earlobe, his voice a low vibration. "Just you and me. No spectators. No interruptions."
"Sylus, stop! We haven't even stepped outside yet!" she hissed, trying to look dignified while her heart raced. "Have you no shame?"
"Never had any, kitten. I assumed that's why you married me."
"We have an entire reception ahead of us! You have to wait."
He chuckled against her neck. "I think our guests will understand that the newlyweds prefer to be fashionably late."
As far as MC was concerned, her life was flawless. She had her husband, a life wrapped in every imaginable luxury, and a tight-knit circle of friends.
Then, one of those friends introduced his fiancée.
Instantly, MC felt a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. It was a deep, visceral irritation that clawed at her skin for no logical reason. She tried to play nice. She and Blythe did a stellar job helping organize what was bound to be one of the most beautiful weddings in the city’s history.
Through it all, you were pleasant and kind. Your suggestions were gentle, delivered with a respectful, dignified grace that MC could never emulate, no matter how hard she tried.
And then, the truth hit her like a slap in the face. She finally understood why she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from making a bitchy comment every time you were around. Unlike her, you weren't pretending to be a good person. You actually were good.
Worse, MC began noticing the subtle shifts in Zayne. It wasn’t something others would notice, but MC knew Zayne long enough to see what was going on. A creature of rigid habit, Zayne began shifting his entire routine to revolve around you. He tried his best to accommodate you. You didn't pout. You didn't manipulate or put on a cute act to get your way. Sometimes, you didn’t even have to ask. He just anticipated your needs and met them.
"They are so sweet together," Blythe smiled as she and MC stepped out of the café. Through the glass, they could still see you and Zayne, your heads bent close together as you spoke in low, intimate tones.
"I know, right? Almost too sweet. It's kind of annoying." MC took a loud, aggressive sip of her milk tea, her brow furrowed in a scowl.
"What is wrong with you?" Blythe asked, eyeing her sideways. "Feeling jealous or something, little sis?"
"I am not! And stop calling me that!"
"Then stop acting like a brat," Blythe warned, her tone dropping into something dead serious. "Because whatever petty thoughts are running through your head right now, you’d better keep them to yourself. Otherwise, you’ll have to answer to me."
"Argh, you’re so bossy! I don’t know how Caleb stands you!"
"Caleb likes being told what to do," Blythe replied with a wicked, knowing grin. "He begs for it, actually."
"What do you—oh, ew! Gross! Mental images!"
"You're such a baby. But I mean it," Blythe’s expression hardened, all humour vanishing. "This wedding is going to be flawless. If you pull any stunt, or let that attitude slip, you're dealing with me. Am I making myself clear?"
"Crystal clear," MC grumbled, pouting as she fought the childish urge to stick her tongue out.
But of course, when the wedding day came, she screwed things up in a way she hadn’t even anticipated. The wedding was undeniably beautiful. You were a vision, and Zayne looked at you in a way that made MC’s heart squeeze in a sharp, uncomfortable ache. She didn't love Zayne. At least, not romantically. But she had craved his attention, if only for a moment. She told herself that she wanted a clean break, a chance to say goodbye to what they once were, and to what they would never be.
What was supposed to be a prank, a small act of brattiness at most became so much more. Before she knew it, she screwed things up in a way that she hadn’t even anticipated.
Because as she watched your face when your husband missed your first dance to share a stolen moment with her in the garden, MC stood frozen under the twinkling lights, her face pale as she realized you had witnessed the entire pathetic display.
You looked directly at her, and then your eyes shifted back to Zayne gently swaying back and forth with her in his arms. He didn’t see you. In that heavy, silent space, MC felt a sickening sensation claw at her chest, something she hadn’t truly felt in a long time.
Guilt. It was heavy and toxic and genuine.
“I-” she started, her voice cracking, not sure if she was speaking to you or telling Zayne to stop.
Shaking your head, you pieced together a dignified smile, turned on your heel, and walked away. You went back to the ballroom alone, prepared to handle the whispering crowd with the grace she completely lacked.
MC felt a sob coming on and squashed it down. You and her were not friends. But you had done nothing to deserve to be embarrassed in this way. You were entirely innocent, and she had just ruined your night and perhaps even your marriage. All in the name of being selfish and being the centre of attention of the man she didn’t even want to have a future with.
Summary: On paper, Zayne was the perfect husband. Attentive, kind, successful. But whenever he was around MC, he looked at her like she was the centre of his world. And that raised the question. What in the world were you - his wife - supposed to be?
Pairings: Non MC x Zayne, MC x Sylus, Blythe x Caleb
Tags: Angst, hurt, comfort, MNDI, soft smut, piv sex, AU, no evol, the LADS are in their 30s, it gets worse before it gets better, emotional infidelity
Word count: 5.5k
A/N: I'm back! Thought about posting this tomorrow, but I have no patience! Hope that I didn't miss any mistakes, hehe.
This chapter is a deep dive into MC's POV. She is not necessarily a bad person, but she is careless and selfish. I like the idea that it is not just Sylus that starts changing her, but also the women around her, like Blythe and the Reader.
Hope you enjoy! 💖💖 Like it? Hate it? Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! Also, consider reblogging so this story gets seen by more people!
Dividers by @orieriee and @diviniyae
Growing up, MC was never truly alone. She had Caleb, of course. He was her brother, her protector, and her closest confidant. He was the kind of big brother other girls could only dream of. He’d brush her hair, help her with her homework, and carry her when she was too exhausted to walk, or, more accurately, when she just couldn't be bothered.
Then there was Zayne. Brilliant, intuitive, and effortlessly perfect at everything he attempted. The kind of boy that others would be willing to walk on hot coals to befriend.
MC recognized that she wasn’t uniquely gifted. She wasn’t great at school or sports. She had her charms, but she knew that she wasn’t breathtakingly beautiful. Just pretty, cute and pushy in a way others found attractive. However, she possessed a far more useful talent. An innate ability to draw in people who were remarkable. She never needed to excel because she had a circle of exceptional friends willing to handle the world for her.
Caleb and Zayne were beautifully transparent. She knew exactly which strings to pull to make them anxious, angry, thrilled, or content. A single sentence from her could leave them entirely speechless or make them blush on command. It was a subtle, intoxicating power, and she thrived on the rush it gave her. She loved them both, yet she loved neither of them. Deep down, she knew she was selfish, perhaps even a bit cruel, but she rarely paused to dwell on it. To the outside world, she was just an innocent, sweet girl who easily charmed everyone she met.
Then Sylus disrupted the perfect little life she’d created. He was everything her usual companions were not. Worst of all, he saw right through her carefully crafted mask, and that stripped away her control.
Their first encounter happened as she walked out from a shop to her motorcycle. A remarkably tall, strikingly handsome man was leaning casually against it, looking relaxed and entirely at home.
"Excuse me?" MC frowned, stopping a few paces away and cocking a hip. "Just what do you think you're doing?"
"Waiting for the owner," he replied, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered.
"Well, you're looking at her."
"You blocked my car."
"You have plenty of space to—oh." She cut herself off, glancing past him. She actually had pinned him in. "Right. Well... Sorry about that. I'll move it."
"Thank you."
Somehow, the calm, measured tone of his voice made her want to be intentionally difficult. She scowled.
"Do you always have such an attitude?" he asked. A faint smile touched his lips as she deliberately brushed past him to grip the handlebars.
"Yep."
"Hm. Then I suppose I will have to get used to it."
"No, you won't," she countered, straddling the seat. "Because I'm not planning on ever seeing you again."
"Are you certain I can't convince you to have dinner with me?"
Damn, his eyes were hypnotic. She looked away, hating how nervous she felt.
"I don't eat dinner."
"Ever?"
"I don't eat dinner with condescending asses."
"Sylus."
MC blinked, looking up to meet his gaze. "What?"
"My name is Sylus," he repeated patiently.
"Whatever," she muttered, kicking the engine to life to drown him out and getting away from him as fast as she could.
That encounter was only the beginning of a string of suspicious coincidences. Suddenly, Sylus was inescapable. No matter where she went in the city, she caught fleeting glimpses of silver hair and sharp, crimson eyes in the crowd. It irritated her to her core. It absolutely thrilled her.
Two weeks later, MC was sitting in the corner booth of a dimly lit, high-end cafe, waiting for Caleb. She had her phone out and was scrolling idly through her photos.
Then the bell above the door chimed and a sudden shift in the room's atmosphere made her look up.
Sylus walked in.
He wore a tailored black coat that made him look even broader and more imposing than before. It seemed like every patron at the cafe took notice. Conversations quieted and the barista instantly straightened up. Sylus didn't look around the room. He didn't need to. His crimson eyes locked directly onto MC’s booth as if he had tracked her there.
Before she could pack her things to leave, he slid effortlessly into the empty seat directly across from her.
"We meet again," Sylus said, leaning back and resting his arm along the top of the leather booth. "What a truly fascinating coincidence."
MC slowly set her phone down on the table. She forced a sweet smile onto her face. It was the exact expression that usually made Caleb or Zayne soften instantly. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm actually waiting for someone. I'd appreciate it if you found another table."
Sylus didn't blink. He just stared at her, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading across his face.
"Save the performance," he murmured, leaning forward. The warmth of his breath cut through the cool air between them. "The sweet and cute routine works on the others, I'm sure. But you and I both know you're looking for a certain reaction. And you're not going to get that one from me."
MC’s smile dropped instantly. Her eyes narrowed, the mask slipping. "You are incredibly arrogant."
"I am. And observant too," Sylus agreed smoothly. He tapped a finger on the tabletop. "You like being the one in control. You like knowing exactly what makes men tick. But you can't figure me out, can you? And it’s driving you crazy."
She wanted to slap him. She wanted to storm out. But deep down, a dark, wicked spike of adrenaline shot through her veins. He was right, and the fact that he dared to say it out loud was the most exhilarating thing she had felt in years.
"You don't know anything about me," she hissed, leaning in closer so that the people sitting at the surrounding tables couldn't hear.
"I know enough to get the picture," Sylus replied softly, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. He stood up just as quickly as he had sat down, tossing a sleek black card onto the table in front of her. "Call me when you're tired of playing safe with boys who only see what you let them see. Let's find out what happens when you play with someone who knows exactly what you are."
He turned and walked out, leaving her staring at the card with a racing heart and a furious, thrilled smile she couldn't quite hide.
The bell above the door chimed again, shattering the tense silence Sylus had left behind.
MC quickly snatched the sleek black card from the table, slipping it into her pocket just as Caleb walked into the cafe. He was scanning the room, his expression relaxing the moment his eyes landed on her.
"Sorry I'm late, pips," Caleb said, jogging over and sliding into the seat Sylus had vacated only moments before. He reached across the table, playfully messing up her hair. It was a familiar gesture that usually made her roll her eyes affectionately but just made her annoyed now. "Traffic was a nightmare. Have you been waiting long?"
MC forced her standard, sweet smile back onto her face, but her heart was still hammering against her ribs. "No, not long at all. Just a few minutes."
Caleb’s smile faltered slightly. His protective instincts were razor-sharp, honed by years of catering to her every whim. He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he scanned her face. "Are you okay? Your cheeks are flushed. And you look… Did someone bother you while I was gone?"
"No," she said, her reply a little too quick. "No one bothered me."
Caleb didn't look convinced. He glanced around the cafe, his posture subtly stiffening as he looked for any potential threats. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Or like you're about to punch someone. If some guy was hitting on you—"
"Caleb, I'm fine," she interrupted, putting on her best innocent, tired pout. She reached out and lightly touched his arm, knowing exactly how to redirect his focus. "I just didn't sleep well last night. Can we just get some food? I'm starving."
The pout worked perfectly. Caleb’s defensive posture melted instantly, replaced by the familiar, easy-to-manage warmth she was so used to exploiting. "Yeah, of course. This place doesn’t look that good, though. Let's get out of here. I'll buy you whatever you want."
He stood up and reached for her bag, carrying it for her without her even having to ask. MC followed him out, playing the part of the pampered, grateful little sister perfectly. But as they walked out into the cool air, her fingers subconsciously traced the sharp edges of the black card hidden in her pocket.
Caleb was safe. Caleb was easy. But for the first time in her life, easy was starting to feel incredibly boring.
That evening, MC found herself sitting in the quiet, sterile atmosphere of Zayne’s office. He was finishing up his final patient charts for the day, his focus entirely consumed by the glowing monitor.
MC sat on the edge of his examination table, swinging her legs idly. On the outside, she looked as if she was simply waiting patiently for her brilliant childhood friend to finish his work so they could catch a late movie. On the inside, her mind was a chaotic mess, the heavy black card in her pocket reminding her of the man that shook her to the very core.
Zayne finally closed the laptop. He removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking over at her. His gaze was steady, piercing, and entirely clinical. He had known her for too long, and while Caleb noticed her moods, Zayne noticed her micro-expressions.
"You're quiet tonight," Zayne observed, his voice deep and measured as he stepped closer. He reached out, his cool fingers gently pressing against the side of her neck to check her pulse.
MC didn't pull away. She leaned into his touch, tilting her head up with a soft, practiced gaze. "Just tired. It's been a long day."
Zayne’s thumb stroked the line of her jaw. His expression remained entirely neutral, but his thumb lingered a second too long—a subtle giveaway of the control she usually held over him. "Your heart rate is elevated. Your pupils are slightly dilated. You aren't tired. You're agitated."
MC smirked inwardly. She loved how easy he was to read beneath that icy exterior. "Are you diagnosing me, Doctor Li?"
"I am observing you," Zayne corrected, his eyes narrowing slightly as he picked up on the faint, mocking edge in her voice. "Caleb mentioned you seemed off at the cafe earlier. He thought you were upset. But I think you're hiding something."
He leaned in a fraction closer, his presence commanding and protective, yet entirely predictable to her. He was waiting for her to confess. They had their roles to play when it came to these encounters. He wanted be her shoulder to lean on. The one who’d figure her out when others couldn’t. And her role in this was to let him think that he could.
"I'm not hiding anything, Zayne," she murmured softly, letting her voice drop to that sweet, vulnerable pitch that always made his icy demeanour thaw. "Can't I just want to spend time with you without being examined or interrogated?"
Zayne stared at her for a long moment. A faint, almost imperceptible softening appeared at the corners of his eyes. He sighed, dropping his hand from her face. "Fine. But if something is troubling you, you tell me. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," she smiled, sliding off the table.
As she walked ahead of him toward the door, her smile faded into a bored line. Zayne’s analytical mind was impressive, but he was still fundamentally blind to who she actually was. He saw a fragile girl who needed looking after and fixing.
She reached into her pocket, her fingertips grazing the embossed name on the card: Sylus. Zayne and Caleb were a beautifully constructed safety net, but Sylus was the chaos that she actually craved.
And so two days later she called him. One meeting became two. And the thrill of seeing him kept her coming back. For the first time in her life she didn’t tell Caleb or Zayne. She cradled the secret close to her heart and kept it safe from the world. But she knew that she’d eventually have to tell others. Except she didn’t want her adoptive brother or her best friend be the first ones to know. She wanted to practice on someone who wasn’t so emotionally invested when it came to her.
The opportunity to confide in someone arrived entirely by accident. MC was sitting at an outdoor terrace downtown, nursing an iced coffee, when she caught that undeniable flash of silver hair across the street. Sylus was stepping out of a sleek, black SUV that clearly belonged to someone else. He didn't see her, but the sheer presence he commanded pulled her eyes straight to him.
"Is that who I think it is?"
She jumped, nearly spilling her drink.
“Oh hi!” MC looked up to find Blythe, Caleb’s girlfriend, standing beside her with a raised eyebrow. “Yep, just chilling on my own. The city is getting so hot these days! You know how it is!”
What were the words that were coming out of her mouth? MC took a very purposeful sip of her coffee so she wouldn’t say anything else.
“Sure. Mind if I sit? My legs are killing me.”
Blythe had a ton of shopping bags with her which she tried to arrange neatly under the small table. Whilst the other woman picked up the menu, MC found her attention and her eyes drifting in another direction.
Blythe frowned when she realised MC was not responding to her question about desserts and followed MC's intense gaze.
Realizing she had been caught staring, MC quickly grabbed her own menu with slightly sharing fingers.
"Who is that?" Blythe asked, crossing her arms as she glanced at the towering, sharply dressed man who was now speaking to someone in a tailored suit. "He looks like he owns half the city, or at least a highly illegal part of it."
MC bit her lip, her mind racing. For the first time the urge to talk about the storm brewing in her life was so overwhelming that talking about it to just about anyone would do. "His name is Sylus. We... keep running into each other."
"Sylus?" Blythe repeated the name. "And what exactly does a guy like that do?"
MC’s mouth felt a little dry. Blythe was not Caleb. MC knew that the other woman didn’t like her or her antics, hating how Caleb would just drop everything in an instant to come running to help his sister. Although, admittedly, it happened less and less nowadays. Between his genuine feelings for his girlfriend and Blythe’s no-nonsense attitude, MC found herself on her best behaviour.
Panicking under Blythe’s sharp gaze, MC blurted out the first ridiculous thing that came to mind. "He’s a fruit vendor. He... wholesale distributes organic produce. Exotic fruits. That's why he's always driving around and meeting up with people!"
Blythe stared at MC. Then she looked across the street at Sylus, who was currently buttoning a designer coat, his crimson eyes gleaming even from a distance as he handed over a briefcase.
Blythe looked back at MC, her expression deadpan. "A fruit vendor. Right. MC, that man is wearing a watch that costs more than most people’s houses. He is absolutely not selling pineapples."
MC flushed, realizing how terrible her lie was. She reached across the table and grabbed Blythe’s hands, dropping the act entirely. "Look, it doesn't matter what he does. The point is, Caleb cannot know about him. At all. If Caleb finds out some dangerous-looking guy is constantly showing up around me, he will lose his shit. Please, Blythe. Don't tell him."
Blythe’s expression shifted from amused scepticism to deep annoyance. She slowly pulled her hands away from MC's grasp.
"Are you serious right now?" Blythe asked, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You’re asking me to lie to Caleb? My boyfriend? Your brother?"
"It’s not lying, it’s just... not mentioning it," MC pleaded, trying to use her usual soft, persuasive tone.
"It is lying, MC," Blythe snapped, visibly irritated. "Caleb tells me everything, and I don't keep secrets from him. Especially not secrets about his little sister hanging around a dangerous-looking millionaire who you're trying to pass off as a literal fruit salesman. You're putting me in a horrible position!"
MC watched Blythe, a sudden chill running through her. Blythe wasn't Caleb, and she wasn't Zayne. She couldn't be manipulated by a pout, tears or a gentle touch.
Blythe stood up, gripping her shopping bags tightly. "I'm not going to run to Caleb the second I see him, but if he asks me why you're acting weird, or if that… fruit vendor shows up near him, I am not covering for you. You need to figure out whatever game you’re playing, MC, before someone gets seriously hurt."
With that, Blythe turned and walked away, leaving MC sitting alone at the table. MC looked back across the street, but the black SUV was already pulling away from the curb. Her hands trembled slightly. Not out of fear, but out of a sudden, dangerous rush of adrenaline. The cracks were starting to show in her perfect little world, and she didn’t want to do anything to stop it from happening.
That same evening, feeling furious and entirely out of options, MC decided that Blythe was right. As much as she loved spending time with Sylus, adored his dry humour and that dangerous look he’d get in his eyes whenever she started being difficult, it was time to put an end to the game. She called him and asked, no- demanded that they meet in the next hour.
Exactly an hour later, she found herself standing in the private lounge of an exclusive, upscale club downtown. The room was dark, smelling faintly of expensive leather. Sylus was sitting alone on a velvet sofa, a glass of amber liquid resting between his fingers. He didn’t look surprised to see her looking so agitated; in fact, he looked like he had been expecting this reaction from her all along.
"A fruit vendor?" Sylus asked, his deep voice carrying a dark, mocking amusement. "Is that really the best you could come up with?"
MC slammed her purse down onto the table between them, her sweet, innocent mask completely discarded. She didn’t even bother to ask how he knew.
"You're ruining my life! Everything was perfect until you came along!"
Sylus slowly set his glass down. He stood up, his massive, imposing frame casting a long shadow over her as he closed the distance between them.
"Perfect, you say? Your perfect little world was built on lies, sweetie. You don't want peace. You want control. And you hate me because you can't control me."
"I hate you because you're an arrogant ass!" she snapped, refusing to back down even as he stepped directly into her personal space.
"You hate me because I see you," Sylus corrected softly. He leaned down, his crimson eyes locking onto hers with a piercing intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. "I see the selfish, wicked girl hiding behind that pretty smile. The one who toys with boys because she's too afraid of a real man. Tell me, MC... are you actually angry? Or are you just thrilled that someone finally called your bluff?"
MC opened her mouth to argue, to scream at him, but no words came out. Her heart was hammering violently against her ribs. He was entirely right. The chaos, the danger, the terrifying loss of control... It was the most alive she had ever felt.
Sylus picked his glass up and took a sip, not looking away from her as he did so. The amber liquid caught the light. She grabbed the glass out of his hand and finished the drink, coughing as it burned on its way down.
She was fuming. Her chest rose and fell with sharp, aggravated breaths.
"I'm mean," MC muttered, her voice tight. She glared at him. "I'm meaner than you think. And selfish."
Sylus let out a low, rough chuckle. He didn't look remotely upset or intimidated. Instead, he tracked her movements with dark, amused eyes.
"How unfortunate for those around you," he murmured, his tone dripping with mock sympathy.
"And awful." MC's free hand balled into a fist.
"Hm... Keep going," he challenged with that ever-present, infuriating smirk.
"It's not funny, Sylus! When I’m with you, it’s like the worst of me wants to come out. With my brother, with my- my friend… At least with them I try to pretend I'm good."
Sylus took the glass from her and set it down with a soft click. He took a step towards her, his towering frame instantly shifting the gravity in the room. He closed the distance between them until she had to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. It was electric between them, the energy all but thrumming faintly in the air, a heavy, magnetic pull.
"The difference between that doctor and I," he said, voice dropping an octave, making sure that MC knew that he’d done his homework when it came to her and those around her, "is that his timing is terrible." Sylus raised an eyebrow at her incredulous face expression, a dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
He leaned in, his breath brushing her ear.
"And you?" she gasped when she felt his warm lips on her skin.
"I am an opportunist," he whispered, moving away to look straight into her eyes. Sylus caught her chin between his fingers, his grip firm but careful. His smirk widened into something genuinely thrilled when her lips parted and her tongue darted out for a brief moment.
"And you, kitten," he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly purr. "Should take this opportunity. Let's give us a chance and see what happens. Let’s see just how mean you can be."
The sheer audacity of his words stripped away the last of her restraint. She was tired of the calculating games, tired of being dissected, and desperately tired of him always being one step ahead of her. She wanted to shatter his smug composure, to force a reaction out of him that he hadn’t meticulously planned.
Before her rational mind could stop her, MC reached up, grabbed the lapels of his designer coat, and pulled him down into a fierce, reckless kiss that was more a fight for the upper hand than a show of affection.
It was a collision of pure friction and built-up tension. She expected him to be shocked or at least caught off guard by her sudden aggression. Instead, after a fraction of a second of stillness, Sylus let out a low, gravelly growl that vibrated straight through her chest.
His hand shot up, his large fingers tangling into her hair to hold her in place. He didn’t just accept the kiss. Sylus took total command of it, deepening it with a dark, bruising intensity that stole the remaining air from her lungs. The sheer, overwhelming power of his grip made her knees buckle, but he held her flush against his frame, completely unbothered by her weight.
When he finally pulled back, just an inch or two, his breath was hot against her lips. His crimson eyes were darker now, flashing with a dangerous, feral amusement.
"Is that your way of silencing me?" Sylus murmured, his thumb firmly tracing her lower lip, which was now slightly swollen from the force of the kiss. He wasn't flustered. If anything, he looked entirely victorious. "A very bold move. But it only proves my point. You're reckless when you're cornered, sweetie."
MC stared up at him, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her breath. Her plan to unmask him had backfired completely. All she had managed to do was invite the chaos right inside.
“So… willing to give this a try, are we?” he asked, his voice a low vibration.
“Yes.”
Because she was done playing it safe. She wanted this and she knew that she didn’t want to go back to the way that she was.
A year later, she was walking down the aisle and she was absolutely, without even a slither of doubt sure that she was doing the right thing.
To the rest of the world, it was the wedding of the century. Caleb stood in the front row, his expression a mix of fierce protection and bittersweet acceptance, still believing his little sister was the sweet, fragile girl he had all but raised. Zayne stood nearby, his face still but his gaze betraying a quiet, stoic resignation. Blythe looked on with as much approval as possible, given the fact that she didn’t like either the bride or groom all that much.
MC didn’t care about their opinions. As she reached the altar, her gaze locked onto Sylus. He stood tall and imposing in a tailored black tuxedo, his silver hair catching the light and his crimson eyes gleaming with a familiar, dangerous amusement. He knew the truth. He knew exactly what kind of woman was hiding beneath the lace and veil.
When he took her hand, his grip was firm, warm, and entirely unyielding. He leaned in close as the priest began the vows, his voice a low, private whisper meant only for her.
"Still playing a role, sweetie?" he murmured, a slow smirk touching his lips.
MC tilted her head up, a sharp, wicked smile cutting through the facade. "Only for the audience, Sylus. You know I save my worst behaviour just for you."
"Good," Sylus whispered, his eyes flashing darkly. "Because I'm looking forward to a lifetime of it."
They exchanged rings and to her it felt less like a traditional promise and more like a mutual pact. When he pulled her in for the kiss, it wasn't the gentle, romantic gesture one would expect. It was deep, possessive, and thick with the familiar intoxicating energy.
The crowd erupted into applause. Caleb shook his head, a strained but genuine smile on his lips as he muttered something under his breath. Zayne clapped with the absolute bare minimum of polite effort required by etiquette, his brow furrowing slightly as he watched Sylus and MC break apart.
She didn’t care. MC found the only man in the world who called her out, tamed her and made her purr for him. As the applause washed over them, MC looked out at the two men who had known her longest. She saw the tight set of Caleb’s jaw and the heavy, silent concern in Zayne’s eyes. For a split second, a pang of bittersweet affection hit her. But it was almost instantly swallowed up by the thrill she felt from Sylus’s hand at her waist. She didn't offer them an apology or a look of reassurance. Instead, she let out a breathless, radiant laugh, leaning heavily into Sylus’s side. She wanted them— no! The whole world to see that she was utterly, unapologetically ruined for anyone else.
She was intoxicatingly, desperately in love and she didn’t care what others thought of her choice.
"Mm... I have to say, you were right to insist on choosing the limo," Sylus nipped at her earlobe, his voice a low vibration. "Just you and me. No spectators. No interruptions."
"Sylus, stop! We haven't even stepped outside yet!" she hissed, trying to look dignified while her heart raced. "Have you no shame?"
"Never had any, kitten. I assumed that's why you married me."
"We have an entire reception ahead of us! You have to wait."
He chuckled against her neck. "I think our guests will understand that the newlyweds prefer to be fashionably late."
As far as MC was concerned, her life was flawless. She had her husband, a life wrapped in every imaginable luxury, and a tight-knit circle of friends.
Then, one of those friends introduced his fiancée.
Instantly, MC felt a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. It was a deep, visceral irritation that clawed at her skin for no logical reason. She tried to play nice. She and Blythe did a stellar job helping organize what was bound to be one of the most beautiful weddings in the city’s history.
Through it all, you were pleasant and kind. Your suggestions were gentle, delivered with a respectful, dignified grace that MC could never emulate, no matter how hard she tried.
And then, the truth hit her like a slap in the face. She finally understood why she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from making a bitchy comment every time you were around. Unlike her, you weren't pretending to be a good person. You actually were good.
Worse, MC began noticing the subtle shifts in Zayne. It wasn’t something others would notice, but MC knew Zayne long enough to see what was going on. A creature of rigid habit, Zayne began shifting his entire routine to revolve around you. He tried his best to accommodate you. You didn't pout. You didn't manipulate or put on a cute act to get your way. Sometimes, you didn’t even have to ask. He just anticipated your needs and met them.
"They are so sweet together," Blythe smiled as she and MC stepped out of the café. Through the glass, they could still see you and Zayne, your heads bent close together as you spoke in low, intimate tones.
"I know, right? Almost too sweet. It's kind of annoying." MC took a loud, aggressive sip of her milk tea, her brow furrowed in a scowl.
"What is wrong with you?" Blythe asked, eyeing her sideways. "Feeling jealous or something, little sis?"
"I am not! And stop calling me that!"
"Then stop acting like a brat," Blythe warned, her tone dropping into something dead serious. "Because whatever petty thoughts are running through your head right now, you’d better keep them to yourself. Otherwise, you’ll have to answer to me."
"Argh, you’re so bossy! I don’t know how Caleb stands you!"
"Caleb likes being told what to do," Blythe replied with a wicked, knowing grin. "He begs for it, actually."
"What do you—oh, ew! Gross! Mental images!"
"You're such a baby. But I mean it," Blythe’s expression hardened, all humour vanishing. "This wedding is going to be flawless. If you pull any stunt, or let that attitude slip, you're dealing with me. Am I making myself clear?"
"Crystal clear," MC grumbled, pouting as she fought the childish urge to stick her tongue out.
But of course, when the wedding day came, she screwed things up in a way she hadn’t even anticipated. The wedding was undeniably beautiful. You were a vision, and Zayne looked at you in a way that made MC’s heart squeeze in a sharp, uncomfortable ache. She didn't love Zayne. At least, not romantically. But she had craved his attention, if only for a moment. She told herself that she wanted a clean break, a chance to say goodbye to what they once were, and to what they would never be.
What was supposed to be a prank, a small act of brattiness at most became so much more. Before she knew it, she screwed things up in a way that she hadn’t even anticipated.
Because as she watched your face when your husband missed your first dance to share a stolen moment with her in the garden, MC stood frozen under the twinkling lights, her face pale as she realized you had witnessed the entire pathetic display.
You looked directly at her, and then your eyes shifted back to Zayne gently swaying back and forth with her in his arms. He didn’t see you. In that heavy, silent space, MC felt a sickening sensation claw at her chest, something she hadn’t truly felt in a long time.
Guilt. It was heavy and toxic and genuine.
“I-” she started, her voice cracking, not sure if she was speaking to you or telling Zayne to stop.
Shaking your head, you pieced together a dignified smile, turned on your heel, and walked away. You went back to the ballroom alone, prepared to handle the whispering crowd with the grace she completely lacked.
MC felt a sob coming on and squashed it down. You and her were not friends. But you had done nothing to deserve to be embarrassed in this way. You were entirely innocent, and she had just ruined your night and perhaps even your marriage. All in the name of being selfish and being the centre of attention of the man she didn’t even want to have a future with.
Many folks unfamiliar with Asian mythologies have expressed confusion regarding the addition of another LI. Truth be told, the existence of 6 LIs was part of the narrative’s design from the very beginning. This is because the story’s foundational lore is deeply rooted in Vedic and Buddhist traditions. And numerous elements of it’s worldbuilding, symbolisms, and structure draw inspiration from these scriptural and philosophical sources.
“Love And Deepspace” is a story about the perpetual cycle of संसार (Saṃsāra). As the MC, we are trapped within the cycle of never-ending suffering across countless lifetimes and timelines. Our journey is to break free from this eternal cycle, and transcend the suffering that binds us to it. The LIs are not merely romantic interests, but essential companions in that pursuit.
Each of them carries a unique connection to the MC across time, and each plays a vital role in guiding her towards the resolution of this long-standing Kārmic entanglement. It is precisely for this reason that all of them exist within the current timeline simultaneously. Their presence is neither arbitrary, nor accidental. It is a fundamental part of the narrative’s deeper mythological and philosophical framework.
To understand the purpose of the LIs, one must first understand the cycle of Saṃsāra: भवचक्र (Bhāvāchākrā). This cycle of existence which encompasses birth, suffering, death, and rebirth is divided into 6 Realms where sentient beings reside in. Each of these Realms is intrinsically linked to one of the LIs featured in the game —
🔥 Rafayel: देवलोक (Devālokā)
God Realm of pleasure and pride
🏹 Zayne: असुरलोक (Asurālokā)
Demi-God Realm of jealousy and strife
🗡️ Xavier: मनुष्यलोक (Mānuṣhyalokā)
Human Realm of opportunity and enlightenment
🌕 Valko: पशुलोक (Pāśhulokā)
Animal Realm of instinct, fear, and servitude
🩸 Sylus: निर्ऋतिलोक (Nirṛtilokā)
Underworld Realm of chaos and decay
🪷 Caleb: प्रेतलोक (Pretālokā)
Hungry-Ghost Realm of endless insatiable hunger
As we know, each LI possesses unique abilities and latent potential beyond their Evols, granting them the power to create, shape, preserve, or dismantle whatever they deem necessary. The intricate Strings of Fate connecting the LIs to MC was deliberately woven by CosmicMC Herself.
It’s purpose was to ensure that Her vessel on Earth could draw upon Her true power through all 6 Realms, with the aid of every LI. Only by uniting these connections can She access the fullness of Her divine potential, and ultimately shatter the endless cycle of anguish that has bound Her across countless lifetimes.
Needless to say, it is unlikely that any additional LIs will be introduced to the game. With Valko’s arrival, the narrative now possesses all the pieces it was designed to have from the very beginning, allowing the story to finally move forward.
[⚠️ Please note: There are numerous realms of the Underworld described throughout Vedic scriptures. I chose to highlight the one that appears most relevant to Sylus’s storyline. Pretāloka is another such realm, and it has connections to Caleb’s narrative. If anyone is interested in Vedic mythology and would like to learn more about these realms beyond the context of the game, please feel free to ask. I would be delighted to share and discuss them further. 🤍]
🔖 I would also like to add that primordial cosmic entities, such as Gods, are not beings who concern themselves with the opinions or expectations of mortals. In that regard, CosmicMC is no different. Much of what has transpired throughout the narrative can be viewed as the manifestation of Her own will, unfolding according to a design far beyond mortal comprehension, much like the whims of Deities within the real world. To truly appreciate the lore presented in this game, one must approach it through a non-Abrahamic lens. And remain receptive towards Vedic and Pagan beliefs, philosophies, and cultural traditions.
hey everyone! as u know some routes are still missing in Shift 3, but no worries! ill finally start writing the Neutral Routes soon! (Amelia, Drunk Route, and Lane's Route #2 that leads into the Neutral Route.)
i also read your asks and decided to include more content for the boys' routes such as:
- adding more scenes with BB's coworkers at the garage! im thinking about more little events so u can get to know his coworkers better, while also getting more scenes with BB himself.
- adding MC customization! this would change how MC reacts to racist/xenophobic remarks, but also things like when Lane talks about blonde women or makes fun of ginger guys. im thinking about adding skin tones, hair colors and possibly chest size too? well see xD
- adding more opportunities for MC to call Lane out. i still dont want the game to constantly stop for moral lectures because i assume everyone already knows those things arent okay, but youre right that MC should acknowledge them more often.
- for Lane's love branch, when u can choose the option "tell him to come for you" at his apartment, ill be adding a whole new branch! originally i wanted to let players choose between staying or leaving because of how hurtful Lane's words are, but i simply didnt have enough time to make an entirely new branch. so thats coming in Shift 3.5!
- adding the possibility to talk with Lane multiple times at the store, just like BB.
- adding even more scenes and conversations with BB! :3
so overall… i think Shift 3 + Shift 3.5 together are going to be astronomically long xD im guessing around 200k words in total!
of course i will also add new sprites and CGs for Amelia and the Drunk Route specifically. ill start working on it but for now im gonna rest a bit and gather ideas, thank you so much for your support! :3💖💖
and heres a poll for your favorite character! its always interesting to see how much your opinions have changed.😏
hey everyone! as u know some routes are still missing in Shift 3, but no worries! ill finally start writing the Neutral Routes soon! (Amelia, Drunk Route, and Lane's Route #2 that leads into the Neutral Route.)
i also read your asks and decided to include more content for the boys' routes such as:
- adding more scenes with BB's coworkers at the garage! im thinking about more little events so u can get to know his coworkers better, while also getting more scenes with BB himself.
- adding MC customization! this would change how MC reacts to racist/xenophobic remarks, but also things like when Lane talks about blonde women or makes fun of ginger guys. im thinking about adding skin tones, hair colors and possibly chest size too? well see xD
- adding more opportunities for MC to call Lane out. i still dont want the game to constantly stop for moral lectures because i assume everyone already knows those things arent okay, but youre right that MC should acknowledge them more often.
- for Lane's love branch, when u can choose the option "tell him to come for you" at his apartment, ill be adding a whole new branch! originally i wanted to let players choose between staying or leaving because of how hurtful Lane's words are, but i simply didnt have enough time to make an entirely new branch. so thats coming in Shift 3.5!
- adding the possibility to talk with Lane multiple times at the store, just like BB.
- adding even more scenes and conversations with BB! :3
so overall… i think Shift 3 + Shift 3.5 together are going to be astronomically long xD im guessing around 200k words in total!
of course i will also add new sprites and CGs for Amelia and the Drunk Route specifically. ill start working on it but for now im gonna rest a bit and gather ideas, thank you so much for your support! :3💖💖
and heres a poll for your favorite character! its always interesting to see how much your opinions have changed.😏
Welcome to the QnA masterpost for the visual novel game Big Bad Dogs!
All credit goes to the developer, @where-spar0w-barksplease be sure to check out her work and official website if you want the full experience (and to avoid spoilers or confusion). Sending all the love to the baddie queen for creating this gem.
Big Bad Dogs - Laly QnA Masterpost Original answers by Laly on Tumblr spar0w TUMBLR X Hi, I’m Near The Wanderer. Welcome to the masterpost
Note: There’s a long Q&A series about BB that someone has already summarized really well. Since it’s too much to include in this masterpost, I’ll just drop the link here. I also plan to save it in my own file, but I figured sharing it here would be more convenient for anyone who just wants quick access to information about BB.
For all the BB's babies, you guys can check out this post from @kolen1209
I really love this game, and I’ve been keeping notes on the content that Laly has shared so far (mostly to help me write better fanfiction). For now, I’m only jotting down details I personally find important or things that might come up later in the story, so this post is very much a work in progress.
I also translate posts from other languages into English. Since I usually translate into my mother tongue first and then into English, there may be small mistakes here and there. If you spot any, please let me know, I’d really appreciate it!
Was checking how the wallpaper looks on all pages and oughfgf, Zayne decided to deal maximum emotional damage. 🥺🥺 Sorry Zaynie, I can’t help you. We need to bring Valko home.
This is spoilers for end of shift two and a scene in shift three!!!
Theory : BB and Red Biker are either the same person or know each other.
- In a scene where we are BB POV, he meets ( or meets again ) our “nosy neighbor”. This neighbor tells him how a biker with a red helmet use to come around MC’s door. BB didn’t seem jealous at all which is surprising. He didn’t even get bothered by the fact someone was around his MC’s door and his first words after the neighbor told him was “Mine’s black.” Which seems like a funny choice of words. Like why didn’t he ask more about the biker or if MC was okay. The only thing he questioned was when the neighbor said the Red biker was dangerous. Even after the neighbor told him though he would just stand by the door like a creep, BB seemed like more defending him like saying “Maybe he was having a bad day,” instead of being worried. The only time he got shocked or like quiet was when the neighbor said “Mc didn’t like it. Poor girl, she’s probably glad he’s gone.” BB in this moment didn’t feel seem like he felt empathy at all just hurt. This is probably because RB was him, and he didn’t like how MC felt discomfort by his company. Like when you choose to snicker at lanes comment when they were fighting, he seemed like that kind of hurt. Like disappointed. When he’s feeling sad I feel like he just gets quiet like he did in this scene. When you also click the door of the neighbors apartment ( before the neighbor stepped out and saw him ) it shows BB thought the neighbor couldn’t mind his business. Obviously it’s not a surprise BB stalks MC but it’s clear him and the neighbor met before. The reason why the neighbor didn’t recognize him is because BB looks like a different person. Same reason why MC couldn’t remember him at all but it’s clear they have met before. Maybe they met before when BB was RB.
-Plus a scene in shift 3 shows how MC was shocked he knew she hated blood. MC can’t even recall the memory why but it seemed like he remembered exactly why and she only told Lane about the blood ( at least that we know) The only people who were supposed to knows about MC’s blood fear is RB and Lane. Unless BB was stalking her long enough to notice ( because it seems like he’s always watching honestly ) or because he was the one to cause it. Like Red biker did.
- The only reason it could be someone he knows is because the final scene before the shift ends on shift three we see Red biker says “You won’t even do it for him?” ( or depending on the route you get his name in place of “him” ) “For me?” This could show how they are two different people but he could just be referring to himself in second person.
I don’t know but I NEED to figure out more about RB. I could be overthinking but there’s no way they aren’t the same person.
I had to redo this so many times because it kept deleting 😔✌️
Shadow Princess @shadowprincess6 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
