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Summary: Caleb and Zayne have been fighting like children for your attention for months, and you finally snap. When they ask what it’ll take for you to forgive them, the answer is simple: kiss. It wasn’t as simple as you thought…
Based on this new Ashnikko song, I Want My Boyfriends to Kiss. Bi-awakening Snowapple/SnowappleMC if you don't like it don't read it! Slight NSFW! minors DNI.
Zayne and Caleb have both adored you since grade school, vying for your attention at every twist and turn. They're practically at your beck and call as adults, no matter where they are. If you need help finishing your biology homework for your college course, all Zayne needs is a text. Your bookshelf broke? Caleb's installing a new one before you even have to ask. It's a testament to how they adore you, and while you're ever grateful for it, there is one thing about the whole ordeal you wish you could change: you wish they could be friends again.
They never technically stopped being friends, but when they developed their own feelings for you, things spiraled fast between them, a competitive air overtaking their once close childhood bond. They raced to open doors for you, made snide remarks about the other under their breath, and while they agreed that no matter who you eventually chose between them, the other would graciously surrender to that decision, they were still at each other's throats at every chance.
You knew the deal between them, and you'd known it for years. They were in love with you in their own individual ways, and you? You were torn in two about it. Caleb was your rock growing up, your fiercest protector, and somehow a nurturing aura as well. You felt nothing but warm and enraptured by his presence, and so of course, there were curious times the two of you had fooled around with your unsorted feelings, after heated play-fighting matches that ended with you two trying to catch your breaths in each other's arms, your smiles fading into intention and nerves as you leaned into his lips, feeling the soft plush of them slot into yours so naturally. Your bodies fall in line, falling into his broad frame as he drops into the couch cushions, and you mold on top of him while his hands swoop behind your back and press you further into him. When you two had spent every last sliver of energy entangled in each other's forms, you didn't discuss it the next day. It just hung in the air like Damocles' cursed sword.
Zayne, on the other hand, felt similar, and yet oh so fundamentally different. He was your calm in every storm, a constant you could rely on, a quietness that spoke so loudly you felt it reverberate in your bones. If you had a question, he had an answer. He was reliable like that, and that pulled you into him so naturally. One time, you went to Zayne for help prepping for a networking event, black tie dress code: the whole ordeal. He hung outside your door attentively as you shimmied into your floor-length dress, and he asked you mock interview-style questions through the crack, stuff you'd inevitably be asked by those you'd meet that night. When you stepped out, turning around and pulling your hair over your shoulder, you asked him to pull up your zipper, and as his hands traced the faint ridges of your back, he felt threads of restraint snap violently and crack like whips. You felt it too, when he attached the clasp at the top, and his hands moved to fan over your shoulders, you felt that shiver you always did when he'd get close. When you felt his shaky breath ghost over your neck, your head turned to meet his gaze. The second you locked eyes, they were screwing back shut as Zayne lurched forward toward your lips, one hand burying in your hair as the other slides down your waist and turned you to face him, and his whole body pressing you into your own bedroom door. You showed up to that event 20 minutes late. You had to fix your hair after Zayne was done with you.
You couldn't choose. Not yet at least, but their patience with one another ran thin. You noticed they'd been bickering more than usual, passing whispered snide remarks about one another as they walked you through a shopping mall, hovered behind you like a personal security detail as they take turns accepting new shopping bags you'd offer to one or the other.
They shoot up from the mall bench when they see you walk out with a paper shopping bag hanging from your fingers, beaming as you leave one of your favorite boutiques. They both watch you with intent eyes that trade between eagerness toward you and glares toward one another. You approach Caleb and offer him the bag.
He smiles as he takes it from your hand, that lip upturn contorting into a mocking smirk that he shoots at Zayne with a "hmph".
"Did you buy some new garments?" Zayne asks, ignoring Caleb's attempt at badgering momentarily, to address you.
You nod. "I did," you confirm giddily. "I got this lovely top with the softest fabric I've ever felt. I'll show you both when we get home!"
Zayne's smile cracks subtly as you swivel on your heel and b-line toward the next store. He catches Caleb in the corner of his eye, passing him a boastful look. Caleb's accumulated a sizable collection of your bags, while Zayne holds a couple of smaller ones.
The two of them follow you closely, before Zayne chimes, his attempt at the high road withering to impatience as usual. "By the way, are you sure you want Caleb to carry all of those clothes for you? I know he has a tendency to be a bit of a... klepto with such things," he says with strong undertones of implication.
Caleb's teeth grit tensely as his glare sharpens toward Zayne, though his tone holds it's usually sing-songy cadence. He laughs disingenuously. "Oh, Zayne. You joker," he seethes. "You know I'm only carrying all the bags because I'm a little bulkier than you. Flight school really makes you put on muscle. Med school clearly doesn't quite have the same effect."
"Or.... I'm carrying all the fragile items, perhaps she knows your spatial awareness is nonexistent, and that there's somehow no room in your big head for it, because it's filled with hot, suffocating air," Zayne snaps back.
"You are a fragile item, Zayne," Caleb retorts with a roll of his eyes. "You should really learn to take a joke- woAh!" Before Caleb can complete his taunts, he loses his footing, his heel slipping beneath him as he barely manages the recovery. He checks his shoes, noticing a faint layer of fast-melting ice. His eyes fiercely shoot up at Zayne. His brow arches defiantly to him, his voice low as he closes the distance between the two until they're nearly shoulder to shoulder as they pace behind you. "Oh, are we using our evol now?" he challenges through whispers.
"I'm only proving my point," Zayne replies calmly, not even bothering to face Caleb as his gaze only follows you. "You don't pay attention to your surroundings; otherwise, you would've noticed the ice."
"Ha!" Caleb scoffs. "Well, then. Why don't you pay real nice attention to the surroundings right here!"
With the slightest clench of Caleb's fist, Zayne feels his feet screw into the mall tile, weighted there forcefully as he instinctively tries to pull up. "Caleb," he mutters sternly. "Caleb, release your evol!" he calls out as he draws a couple of paces away.
"Or what?" Caleb boastfully provokes Zayne, his head turning to face him briefly before he is answered by the gradual stiffening of his own step, crystalline formations growing across his feet and freezing him to the ground. "Oh, fuck," he grumbles. "Zayne, you suck! Come up with your own tactics instead of copying mine."
Zayne's dastardly smirk forms across his face. "Alright, then," he answers, flicking his pointer and middle finger and watching as the same ice that entraps Caleb to the ground tapes over his mouth. He laughs lowly for a moment, until his body tugs toward the ground, landing smack down into the sitting position, stuck there as passersby begin to trade looks of concern and dodge the two of them.
Over time, you learned to drown out their petty arguments, pushing ahead as they trade insults like it was small talk about the weather, but you notice the lack of heavy footsteps behind you after not too long, your whole body spinning around in a fleeting moment of confusion that dissipates when you see the pitiful sight: Caleb, his feet stuck to the floor as he hums out muffled cries through his frostbitten lips, and Zayne behind him, sat on the floor like a toddler as he makes a painstaking effort to stand, to no avail, a future pilot and doctor duo, fighting like children who have yet to learn to use their powers responsibly. Normally, at this point, you'd move to chastise the two of them, barking at them to cut it out, but evol use was new and extra pathetic to witness, and your normal anger was replaced with something duller: disappointment.
Your facial features drop into something neither man has seen before, lifeless and cold at them as you shake your head slowly, the slight snarl of your lip visible to both. "Forget it," you mutter. "I'm going home. Stay here like fools for all I care."
You turn away from them and towards the main entrance, making several strides forward before Caleb and Zayne come to terms with what had just happened. Their evols release carelessly as they chase toward you, their voices trading in slight panic.
"Wait, pipsqueak! Come on! Don't do this," Caleb pleads lowly.
Zayne follows suit, his gaze softening on you. "Please," he implores you. "Don't leave yet, not without giving us a chance to make up for it."
You shift furiously back toward them. "A chance," you flare. "You both have had chances, but all you want to do is fight, and now look! You're acting like toddlers fighting over a toy, and I'm the toy! I can't take it anymore!"
You turn back to leave when you feel two hands wrap around both your wrists, holding you back desperately. One is warm and rough, firm on the grip, and almost demanding. The other cool to the touch, soft palms and delicate fingers that hook around you with hesitation. You're skin tingles under the touch of both, and it's almost as if you are now fastened to the ground, except there's no evol, only them and their tethering presences.
You hear Zayne muster up your name beneath his breath. "What's it gonna take for you to forgive us? Name it and it'll get done," he insists resolvedly.
Caleb reluctantly agrees. "Ya, pips," he chimes. "Anything you want, just please, let us make it up to you."
"...anything?" you ask, that mischievous glint in your voice cutting through.
The two boys trade looks between one another and sigh in unison.
"Yes, ma'am." they reply. "Absolutely."
You turn back to face the pair of them, jerking out of their touch gently as a firm look of resolve forms on your face. "Well then," you begin. "I've thought about this a while, and I think it's only fair. I've kissed you," your eyes flit to Caleb, "and you," then to Zayne, "and I think, for the sake of fairness, you two should make out."
"What?" they say in unison.
Your gaze sharpens. "With tongue," you emphasize.
Zayne and Caleb both trade fleeting looks with one another, ones that break awkwardly and float back to you, tracing all over for a hint of jest or mockery, but there is none. You're quite serious, staring into both of them interchangeably with your arms folded over your chest. Even as they laugh awkwardly in hopes you'll join them, you remain firm.
Caleb breaks the silence, uttering your name like it could blow up any second. "Are you sure you don't want to ask for anything else? I mean, that's a... bold request."
"Very bold," Zayne agrees. "I understand your logic, but truly, don't you think it's a bit unreasonable-"
Before you can hear their arguments, you turn back around, making a solid pace towards the parking lot as they quickly follow behind you. "If you won't agree to my solution... then I'm not talking to either of you," you insist, your gaze still faced away from them as you pad toward Caleb's car.
The car ride to your place is stuffy with tension as you slide into the back seat, taking the only remaining spot after Caleb and Zayne set down your bags in the back row. Zayne reluctantly hops into the passenger's seat, aware of himself as Caleb puts the car in drive, their occasional glares at one another snapping away violently as Zayne's ears pepper with a familiar blush and Caleb's face turns the same shade. They're both internally praying you drop this after they land home, but it's a silent and suffocating ride for all of you as you stare daggers into the backs of their heads.
When Caleb parks at your place, Zayne opens your door, and you don't even look at him as you pass him by, digging into your purse for your keys as they both grab shopping bags and follow you to your front door. They enter and set your bags on the dining table in pure muscle memory, your gaze fixating back on them firmly as they brush beside one another in the process, suddenly very aware of the contact. Their eyes pin on yours.
"Are you actually serious about this, pips?" Caleb asks, a desperate plea for you to drop the matter.
You roll your eyes before focusing back on him, somehow sharper than before. "Yes," you assert. "I'm not forgiving either of you until I see you two kiss."
Caleb groans. "Pipsqueak, you do realize that you're the only person I've ever kissed, right?"
"I could say the same," Zayne adds. "There are other ways to solve this, more practical ways."
"Imply it's unreasonable all you want, Zayne. I beg to differ," you argue. "What's unreasonable is watching the two of you humiliate me in the middle of a public space with tons of people and thinking that'll get my attention. You both want my attention so badly? Fine. Then kiss."
"Pips-"
"Kiss."
"Miss fairy-"
"I said kiss!"
They both sigh exasperatedly, their eyes meeting for the first time since the mall that lasts for more than two seconds. They're looks of negotiation, reading into one another while trying to ignore their own strange stomach churning and faces turning bright pink. They linger on one another an awkward second too long before snapping back to you.
"Fine," they muster. "Whatever."
"Yes!" you cheer. "Finally. I knew you'd both cave!"
"Ya, ya, whatever, sweet victory," Caleb praddles on before he turns back to Zayne. "Alright, how are we..."
Zayne's gaze hangs low on Caleb. "I don't know," he remarks sharply.
You roll your eyes at the pair of them. "Well you can't kiss from several feet away, dummies!" you chastise them, flailing your hands and motioning them together. "Go on. Move closer!"
They both mirror the same rigid step toward one another, nearly smacking foreheads as they both hesitate and jut away from one another. Their brows furrow, their eyes violently tracing around each other's faces, such strange feelings bubbling in their chests as they both find the sight of each other's lips, something they've never paid attention to. They don't break their stares from one another, they just hang there hesitantly.
"Well..." you break the silence. "Which one of you is gonna lead?"
"Me," they both say in unison before their stares sharpen at one another provokingly. "No, me," they continue to speak on top of each other.
You shake your head despondently. "Uhh, rock paper scissors?" you suggest.
"No, need. I got a better idea," Caleb asserts, his hands both grasping at thin air, fastening Zayne's arms to his sides as he straightens like a board under the pressure of his evol.
"Caleb," Zayne snaps and grumbles under futile attempts to wriggle out. "Let me go. This is very unsightly. Cut it out."
"Hey, someone has to take the lead," Caleb insists, his hands throwing up in surrender. "I am bigger and taller than you. That is a fact. It only makes sense I lead."
"Yet, I am older than you, shouldn't you follow my lead?" Zayne argues back.
"Doesn't matter," Caleb answers assertively. "You're the one who can't move right now. It seems I won the right to lead. Deal with it."
After a couple more uncomfortable seconds of trying to struggle out of a tightening, invisible grasp, Zayne lets out an exacerbated growl, something you've never heard before. "Fine!" he shouts. "I surrender, but release your evol. You could at least give me the illusion of choice here."
Caleb cracks a smile, satisfied in his victory. "Good," he says proudly, before the reality settles back in as he releases his evol grip around Zayne.
Zayne's whole body relaxes before winding back up with its natural, awkward tension. He feels embarrassed heat rise in his body and paint the tips of his ears, watching as Caleb's Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he gulps, his gaze flickering to his lips and back on his eyes. Zayne has never been more aware of Caleb's every facial feature.
Caleb feels similarly as he draws too close for comfort, distance dissipating as his eyes catch the gold shimmer in a forest of lush green in Zayne's hesitant gaze. He never noticed. He never looked at Zayne with such attentiveness, and when he draws a short breath away, he seems to buffer in place. He doesn't know how to approach the matter, where to put his hands. His first thought is to just kiss him how he'd kiss you, but it doesn't translate. Zayne is nothing like you in Caleb's eyes, carrying a dark, almost warning aura to him, gaze sharp on his.
Zayne has the opposite thought. You and Caleb are far more similar than he'd care to admit, charismatically drawing him in whether he'd like to admit it in Caleb's case or not, bright eyes and a brighter smile, though that smile is entirely missing in such a moment. Zayne has never seen Caleb so somber and conflicted. It has a strange way of pissing him off.
"Are you gonna kiss me or what?" he grumbles before he can stop himself, and as the words leave his mouth, his whole face erupts in red. Why would he say that? Why would he say it like he wanted this? He didn't, even if the pang of curiosity was at least tugging at him internally, or so he thought that's all it was.
Caleb's eyes roll back slightly. "Jesus, Zayne. Give me a second!" he rasps. Caleb's eyes trace over Zayne maddeningly, his hands reaching up and awkwardly hanging around his face while he tries to figure out where to put them before he finally settles on cradling the side of Zayne's head, attempting to guide him to a slight tilt.
Zayne juts out of the touch slightly out of instinct before dropping back into Caleb's hand, his fingers resting on his ear as his warmed palm sits on his cheek, unable to hide that while his body often runs cold because of his evol, he's flaring up under the simplest of touch.
Those seconds before Caleb leans in feel like eons as he still hesitates, but his body naturally leans in eventually, his lips ghosting over Zayne's until they graze slightly, and his chest tightens at whatever jolt of sensation shoots through him on contact. Then his eyes shudder tightly shut as he closes that final bit of distance, his lips grazing over Zayne's before catching on his top lip softly, tugging away languidly. Zayne feels the glide of Caleb between his lips, his hands resting on top of Caleb's broad, heaving chest as he pulls away slowly. Both their eyes flash open, meet one another with the glint of something unfamiliar, before Caleb's free hand grasps into Zayne's arm, firming him in place.
Something takes over that feels purely biological to the two of them as their eyes flutter back shut and their lips reconjoin more confidently than before, slotting against one another as they close in and fold on top of each other. Zayne feels that tinge of curiosity as he allows Caleb to lead, his head tilted to his every whim, and Caleb familiarizes himself with the tug of Zayne's lips on his bottom lip as they break apart only to meld back together seconds later. They get comfortable, to the surprise of both, and they get bold. Zayne's arms hook behind Caleb's neck, locking him there as Caleb's tongue dives in between Zayne's lips, feeling the almost defiant push of Zayne's own muscle against it as he bullies his way in with his full weight. He tastes the faint flavor of mall-kiosk candy before Zayne juts back against him, his own tongue daring to glide into Caleb's mouth. They trade exchanges like they've traded insults for months: with no hesitation, like they're sorting it out without words.
It's entirely unfamiliar, to the point they chase at one another's tongues like the goal is to become familiar, and there's this eerie comfort between them, like they're remembering something. They're not enemies. Zayne and Caleb have their own history outside of you, and they're recalling that in real time, recalling it as they trade lips and tongues and tastes. In fact, you watch them in shock and awe, figuring they would've bowed out, but certainly a minute passes, and they're still macking on one another like they're searching for something within it, and god... they look hot doing it. Caleb grips into Zayne's hair and steers him however he likes, hot and heavy every time his lips land back on Zayne, and Zayne's fervently matching him, eagerly as he pulls Caleb closer, and you think...
"Wow, y'all are never this rough with me," you mutter. "I think... I think I'm jealous."
Zayne and Caleb snap away from one another like your voice releases them from a trance, their gazes shooting to you as each of their chests heaves up and down as they chase their breaths. There's hunger in their gazes as they turn toward you, alight with something so insatiable, something that's foreign to you as well. They trade a knowing look with one another before meeting back to you, and for the first time in ages, you can see they're in perfect sync, that same devious glimmer in their eyes, that similar curvature on their lips.
"What?" you ask, though your body winds in anticipation.
Their steps are heavy as they close the distance between you. You step back, overwhelmed by their sheer velocity and mass as they both approach you simultaneously, and Zayne catches you before you can stumble back too far. His hands catch your jaw line, yanking you into him as his lips slam into yours before drawing back away with an intense pull before they reconvene back on you. You see little more than white as he kisses you, your body buzzing underneath his as you feel him feverishly push back against you again and again, until your wrist tugs away from him.
You're pulled out of Zayne's grasp and into Caleb's in a flash, his eager, violet eyes meeting yours briefly before he's closing the gap firmly, his lips smashing against yours as his hands push your hair back so he can angle you up toward him, his hot, heavy lips only falling back briefly before capturing yours once again, and your dizzy enough to see stars, your whole body just relaxing and pulsating with every insistent movement, Caleb's lips dragging against yours vehemently before pushing back in, his tongue tangling with yours in time.
You feel Zayne's hand wrap back around your wrist, pulling you out of the endeavor as your eyes flitter about between them, trying to screw it back on. Your other hand is caught by Caleb as they tug on you firmly, before their eyes lock back again on one another, and tension hangs in their air between them. Your hands drop back to your sides as they release them, just so they can reach for one another, this time Zayne faster and more insistent as he closes the distance first, grabbing at Caleb's collar and letting his own gravity work against him as his lips drop back down on Zayne's. There's a blaze of heat radiating off them as they engulf one another, lips pressing against one another and splitting to allow tongues to slip in between the pouty muscles. You watch the entrancing sight that perseveres as they conjoin lips and jab tongues into one another's mouths until you make even the slightest stir, and they're breaking back apart to meet your wild gaze. Inevitably, one of them will wordlessly land back on your agape lips.
What started as a ridiculous request to get even devolves as the three of you gradually melt down to the living room floor, tossing around a shaggy carpet as whatever random pair of you kisses. You on Caleb's eager lips as he presses into you, only for him to be jolted back into Zayne's grasp momentarily, before Zayne drops Caleb for you. Circles of this, literal tossing across the floor as it gets more heated between the three of you, and each time one of them kisses you, you can feel their whole bodies warm against yours and their bulges twitch between your legs. There's no teasing them about it, though. You're wet enough that it's risking soaking through your leggings if they keep up their routine. They both kiss you like never before, like they're more confident after one another, like they learned something in each exchange, and each time the two men meet to "trade tactics" again, you watch and wait as they explore one another, Zayne's hands almost having gall to drag off Caleb's shirt as he finds the nerve to push back Zayne's hair just like he does yours.
Between Zayne and Caleb, they can't figure out why they keep finding their attention on each other instead of focusing on you. Maybe it's because every time they do, they look at you and you've got this alight gleam in your eye they rarely see. Perhaps it's all for you, all for show, but there's an undeniable draw between their bodies that keeps them coming back. Zayne might think it's his curiosity, his desire to learn, and to be fair, he is learning from Caleb, but he feels something swirl in the pit of his stomach that's not so different from when he kisses you, and that has him questioning his own rationalization of this. Caleb, on the other hand, chalks it up to an act of power and dominance, wanting control over a situation that has clearly spiraled out of control as he presses his whole body into Zayne and has to admit to himself, he doesn't hate the starkly different firmness of him versus your plush softness.
And of course, there's the matter below the belt. They're both throbbing vehemently, whether they kiss you or one another, and they don't know what to do about that when it's one another. Should either dare to tread further, and what would that even entail, especially with the three of you? You, too, ask the question internally, knowing all you can do is let whatever happens be, even if that's finding your body stacked between theirs as they each find a side of your neck and drag their lips and tongues across it like they're marking it, four hands draping along your body and teasing every part they touch without even thinking about it.
Silence hangs between the three of you as you try and sort it out internally. This was supposed to fix everything, not change everything, but there's no going back, and your body screams for both of theirs, knowing that if you could go back, you'd do the same.
A/N: I knowwww someone is gonna scream for me to finish this, but I have literally never written mlm (or wlw for that matter) so this was new and experimental for me, even though I believe the solution to all love triangles, all multi-shippers is that everyone should just kiss! This is likely not getting a follow up. Please respect my wishes, even though I do have other Snowapplemc threeway concepts cooking up, so don't lose hope that I won't give y'all that eventually. Also, no this is not the Zayne and Caleb as your college roommates fic, but it is similar and lowkey a warmup so... ya. That one is not snowapple tho. At least I don't think. Anywhoo thanks for reading!! -Your Local Zayniac
PS. I know I know, Zayne's a brat tamer, but Caleb is a brat maker and I am convinced he's the only one that somehow pulls the brat out of Zayne. I HAVE A HUNCH. Also they should sandwich me.
Your daughter looks just like him— that same raven-black hair, her rosy, chubby cheeks just like Zayne's when he was a baby— but she has your personality: bubbly, sweet, expressive in a way that wrecks his heart every time she seeks him out.
Zayne is overprotective around your baby girl in a subtle way— he always has an extra water bottle with him, an extra pair of socks, her tiny sweater folded over his arm.
"Don't go too far, honey," he'll tell her before letting her run off to the slides, but his eyes will still be on her the whole time, carefully seeing if she trips or cries or needs him in any way. He lifts her away from sharp corners before she sees them, brushing away dust from her little dress, making sure she drinks her water.
"She's just like you," he tells you once when you're frisky and can't sleep. He kisses your forehead before adding, "I have to remind our baby to take care of herself. "
You laugh when you see him crouched on the hallway floor buttoning up her jacket, your baby girl's cheeks puffed up in protest She's the second point of chaos in his life (the first being you, of course), and he secretly loves it. You take twenty million pictures, and one of them ends up being your new lock screen.
He kisses her hair every time he picks her up, then her chubby cheeks, almost as if he can't stop himself. He tells you it's to make her laugh, but you notice how wide he smiles when she runs to him first in a crowd, how he laughs when she tries to climb him like a tree, how she wriggles in your arms to get to him.
She grabs at his stethoscope like it's a toy and babbles silly little phrases she picks up from you, and he lets her even though he'd never let an adult patient touch it, nodding seriously and responding to her as if it's an actual conversation.
Before you, before her, he'd come home from a long shift, eat something with no nutrients whatsoever, and collapse on his bed for the meagre time until his next shift. Now he gets to come home to his wife and his daughter, your baby mirroring your posture, listening to her babbles as you kiss him giddy and sit him down for dinner.
He never thought he'd have something this precious, this perfect, but here he is. Here you are. And there your baby girl is, mumbling the new words she learned from mommy today.
Late one night, he's lying in bed with you, finger tracing reverent circles on your abdomen as your daughter sleeps in the next room. He leans over and kisses you slowly, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip in contemplation. He's thinking about something, something serious, something that must be sweet because it's making him smile like that without him realising it.
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Summary: Rafayel ruins the established cuddle schedule. Others retaliate. Fluff.
It was sometime past two in the morning when you heard the soft creak of your bedroom door.
At first, you thought it was just the air system humming oddly again, until a dark shape hesitated in the doorway.
“...Rafayel?”
He froze like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. Then, awkwardly: “Uh. Yeah. Hi, cutie.”
You rubbed your eyes. “Why are you in my room?”
“I...” He shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t sleep.”
You blinked. “And?”
“And,” he said quickly, as if the next words embarrassed him more than any battle scar ever could, “I sleep better when someone’s...uh...close. You know. Cuddling.”
You stared at him. “Rafayel.”
“Don’t look at me like that, cutie. It’s physiological.” He gestured vaguely, his tone defensive. “Regulates breathing, reduces cortisol, blah blah. You’re the one who’s always talking about science.”
You sighed. “You mean you can’t sleep unless you’re holding me like a teddy bear.”
“That’s an oversimplification,” he muttered.
“Fine,” you said, lifting the blanket. “Come on, stuffed animal.”
He slipped into the bed, all tall limbs and heat. The moment you shifted to make room, his arm went around your waist automatically, pulling you flush to his chest. His sigh was immediate: deep, content, heavy with exhaustion.
You tried to scold him. You really did. But he was warm, impossibly warm, and within minutes his heartbeat slowed against your back. You drifted soon after.
The morning explosion was inevitable.
Zayne was the first to find you both. He opened the door with his usual early-riser efficiency and froze.
“Rafayel.” His voice was low and deadly calm. “Why are you in her bed?”
Rafayel groaned, not even moving. “Five more minutes.”
You buried your face in the pillow. “Please tell me this is a dream.”
Zayne’s voice rose an octave. “You have your own room.”
Xavier appeared next, perfectly composed with a mug of tea, eyes flicking from Rafayel to you to the other two. “I take it the schedule was ignored?”
“The schedule,” Zayne hissed, “is sacred.”
Now everyone was awake. Caleb flung his arms wide. “We agreed: Monday, Xavier. Tuesday, me. Wednesday, Zayne. Thursday, Rafayel. Friday, Sylus. Weekends are free-for-all.”
Rafayel yawned, utterly unbothered. “Yeah, yeah. Rules are meant to be broken.”
“You’ve ruined the rotation,” Zayne snapped. “You create chaos wherever you go.”
From the doorway, another voice spoke: low, calm, dangerous.
“Chaos,” Sylus said, “can be useful.”
Everyone turned. He stood there in his usual black shirt, arms crossed, eyes glinting faintly behind his glasses.
Rafayel’s hold tightened in pure defiance. “Don’t start, man.”
Sylus tilted his head. “If the rules are being ignored, then I assume I’m free to make my own arrangements.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Sylus.”
He ignored you completely, stepping forward with quiet confidence. “Rafayel. You’ve had your turn. Move.”
Rafayel didn’t move an inch. “Not happening.”
Sylus looked at you instead. “You’re clearly not getting any rest with him crushing your ribs.”
“She’s fine,” Rafayel muttered into your hair.
“She’s suffocating” Zayne argued.
You let out a long, tired sigh. “Everyone out.”
No one budged.
Fine. You rolled out from under Rafayel’s arm, earning a groggy protest, and swung your legs off the bed. “If you all care this much, you can argue while I’m gone.”
Sylus caught your wrist as you stood. “Actually,” he said evenly, “you owe me, kitten.”
“For what?”
“For not waking everyone when Rafayel crawled into your bed last night,” he said without missing a beat. “I saw him. Let him have his way. It cost me sleep.”
“Unbelievable,” Rafayel grumbled.
Sylus’s hand slid more firmly around your wrist, not rough, just decisive. “My room, kitten. Tonight.”
The others erupted at once.
“You can’t just claim her!” Caleb protested.
“She’s not a chess piece!” Zayne snapped.
“Technically,” Xavier murmured, “he’s following the new precedent Rafayel set.”
You turned to Sylus, exasperated. “You’re exploiting loopholes now?”
A faint ghost of a smile flickered on his lips. “When it comes to you and business, naturally.”
That night, he didn’t ask twice.
You found yourself in his room, lights low, the smell of his cologne faint in the air. He sat at the edge of the bed, reading glasses glinting as he looked up.
“I can still go back to mine,” you said, though you didn’t sound convincing.
“You won’t,” he murmured.
He shifted back, leaving space beside him. When you lay down, he was careful, one arm sliding under your head, the other drawing you close until your cheek rested against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, patient, so unlike Rafayel’s restless warmth.
“See?” he murmured, his breath brushing your hair. “Order restored.”
“Until they find out in the morning,” you muttered.
“Let them,” Sylus said softly. “I don’t mind breaking rules if it’s for you.”
And with that, he turned off the light, the quiet hum of the night settling around you, the peace of someone who knew exactly what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to bend every rule in the world to have it.
The fallout from “the Rafayel Incident,” as Zayne started calling it, lasted a week.
Zayne had drafted a full document - not a note, not a reminder, but an official schedule printed and pinned to the kitchen wall in bold red ink:
BED SHARING ROTATION (NEWLY REVISED, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY)
Monday — Xavier
Tuesday — Caleb
Wednesday — Zayne
Thursday — Rafael
Friday — Sylus
Saturday/Sunday — Her Choice (within reason, added in smaller handwriting, clearly Zayne’s.)
Rafayel had immediately taken offense.
“You’re giving yourself the middle of the week?”
“It’s symmetrical,” Zayne replied curtly. “Also, you forfeited any right to input after you trespassed.”
Caleb was all too happy to enforce it. “Oh, I’ll make sure everyone follows it,” he said, his grin sharp with mischief. “No exceptions. No sneak cuddles after curfew, no loitering by pips's door.”
You groaned. “You’re acting like this is a military operation.”
“Wrong,” Caleb said cheerfully. “This is a matter of fairness. You can’t just barge in like a feral cat every time you want affection.”
Rafayel scoffed. “I’m not a cat.”
“You are when you steal her pillow and refuse to move.”
Xavier calmly folded his hands. “Let’s be reasonable,” he said. “The rules maintain peace. Without structure, there’s chaos.”
Sylus, reading in the corner, didn’t look up. “Chaos has its uses.”
“Not this kind,” Zayne snapped. “This is the clingy kind.”
That evening, Caleb took it upon himself to patrol the hallway. He even set up a digital timer with reminders, an unholy combination of science and stubbornness.
By the time Rafayel’s day rolled around, he was vibrating with impatience.
He hovered near your door that night like a kicked puppy, arms crossed, trying to look casual. “You’re not really going to make me wait until Thursday, right?”
“It is Thursday,” you said, checking your clock.
He looked offended. “No, I mean...every week? I have to wait this long every time?”
“Talk to Zayne.”
“I did! He quoted regulations at me like I signed a treaty.”
You smiled, stepping closer to smooth a hand through his messy hair. “You’ll live.”
“I might not.” He bent forward slightly, his voice softer now, almost boyish. “You know I don’t sleep well without you, cutie.”
And that, well, that was unfair.
You cupped his cheek. “Come here.”
Rafael blinked. “I thought...”
“I’m not breaking the schedule,” you said gently. “But you’re getting this.”
You pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then one to the bridge of his nose. And another, lingering, at the corner of his mouth until he smiled despite himself.
“Happy now?” you asked.
He sighed dramatically. “No. But I’ll survive.”
You kissed him once more for good measure. “Go to bed.”
He grumbled all the way down the hall, muttering something about Zayne’s “tyrannical rule,” but you caught the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
Over the next few weeks, Caleb turned into a martyr for the schedule.
“Clock out, people,” he’d announce like an exhausted camp counselor. “It’s Xavier’s night. No substitutions.”
When Sylus lingered by your door with that deceptively calm expression, Caleb appeared out of nowhere like a one-man security system. “Uh-uh. Not your night, Professor Dark and Broody. Back to the study.”
Even Zayne wasn’t immune. Once, when he tried to swap a night to accommodate mission prep and his hospital schedule, Caleb refused flatly. “Schedules are sacred, Doctor Logic. Don’t make me put up a second copy.”
It was absurd, but somehow, it worked.
Mostly.
Because even with the new rules, Rafayel still came knocking some nights. Not to stay (he didn’t dare after Caleb’s threats), but just to see.
He’d stand in the doorway, arms crossed, hair rumpled, pretending he wasn’t waiting for something.
“Couldn’t sleep again?” you’d whisper.
He’d shrug, pretending to inspect the ceiling. “Just wanted to check in.”
You’d sigh, gesture him closer. “Come here.”
He’d duck down obediently, and you’d cradle his face in your hands, kissing his cheeks one after the other until his shoulders loosened.
“Better?” you’d murmur.
“Little bit.”
“Good. Now, go to bed, Rafayel. Go on, my precious pouty fishie.”
He’d mutter, “You’re cruel,” every time, but the corners of his mouth would curl just enough for you to know he wasn’t truly angry.
The others pretended not to notice.
Sylus would glance at the clock and murmur, “She’s giving him his goodnight ration,” like it was a perfectly normal sentence.
Xavier only sipped his tea. “It maintains the emotional equilibrium.”
And Caleb, of course, grinned like a cat who’d trained an army. “As long as nobody breaks the schedule, I don’t care who gets a kiss.”
Zayne scowled every time he overheard that. “You’ve turned affection into bureaucracy.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Still, by the time Thursday night rolled around again, the whole cohabitat seemed to exhale.
Rafayel most of all, bursting into your room the second the clock struck midnight.
“Technically my day started a minute ago,” he announced, dropping onto your bed before you could protest. “So I’m not breaking any rules.”
You rolled your eyes, laughing as he tugged you close, burying his face against your chest like he’d been waiting forever for that one breath of peace.
And when he mumbled, half-asleep, “Missed you,” you almost didn’t notice the quiet sound of Sylus closing his book down the hall, as though quietly, he was already planning his next loophole.
poly! lads x isekai’d reader’s first kiss in the lads universe is with sylus.
i think in a lads x isekai’d reader, sylus has the easiest time adjusting to you being there. rafayel adjusts pretty well too, but sylus goes above and beyond. he knows your different from the mc he knows, but he still wants you just as much as he wanted her, if not more. he takes the time to get to know you as you are now, and he makes a point to always be there for you as you get adjusted to being in the lads universe. so its only natural that he’s the first one you actually form a more intimate bond with.
sylus is the one who has to talk some sense into the other lads guys too. telling them that you aren’t mc-lite, but that doesn’t mean your not still worth fighting for. he makes sure they all know that they can fumble you all they want, but he knows what he’s going to do, and thats fight just as hard for you as he always has, even if things are different now.
he isn’t against sharing either, he knows— now that everything has happened the way it has, that there is a good chance he’ll have to share you with the others. he wasn’t even necessarily fighting to win you over first. but he wasn’t going to sit around and let you suffer by yourself while the other guys mulled over “loosing” mc and having to get adjusted to you, not when he knew you were exactly what he wanted. now and always.
