You can call me lynketa! I'm 8teen who's an ENFP (6w7), an introverted, socially awkward shut-in who spends most of her days daydreaming about scenarios and drabbles! I'm also a multifandom warrior who loves sfw. (sideblog @shift-lyn)
— WRITING
⬩➤ I write for various fandoms, mostly ones that interest or intrigue me! here's my recent (and past) obsession
current ➤ botw, orv, mha
former ➤ genshin, star rail, haikyuu, jjk, lads
⬩➤ I mostly do drabbles, oneshots, imagines, and scenarios
⬩➤ ask box is open for suggestions, requests, or thoughts! I can't guarantee that I'll finish the request tho, so just a precaution.
➤ link to masterlist
➤ upcoming works
— RULES
➤ minors do not interact. There are nsfw posts or reblogs here and for the sake of my conscious because I can't really stop you. But know that I am not comfortable with messaging or talking in private dms.
➤ furthermore please do not message me for venting, asking to date, etc. out of the blue. I'll be polite and cordial but it doesn't mean my response/reaction will be kind or reassuring.
➤ I tend to reply slowly because of personal life and responsibilities, I apologize but please bear with me. (timezone : GMT +8)
➤ do not copy/plagiarize, translate, modify, feed to AI, or repost my works to any platforms.
credits : red-orange divider by @cafekitsune , header and pfp art by eriimyon
Okay rereading my fanfic lwk made me realize i have potential... (And the plot itself)
Which is crazy because, before reading it, i thought bound was the most yapfest crap I've ever written 😭
I kept comparing my writing to different authors and it genuinely killed my motivation to update new chapters.
Though i keep downplaying my achievements bcs wdym bound has 233 hearts on quotev.... Isn't that like 233 people liking my content???? How come I've never realized how big that already is???
This also applies on why i've stopped writing for kdj and other fandoms. I doubted my writing sm, i thought about deleting both my Tumblr and quotev account (dramatic i know)
I still have lots of drafts i barely finished or started because of those fears. And school started so I'm struggling more and more mentally.
Aside from those issues... I'd like to thank y'all for supporting me. I hope i can do something for like a 365 followers special (reqs most likely), and i hope i can deliver or at least write something out in the future.
Thank you for finding my writing bearable. I'm glad i was able to feed people's scenarios, at least once in my life.
Diluc who gets sad because you refuse to cuddle with him during a sweltering heatwave. The mansion especially humid during this time of year. His big sad eyes looking at you while you face the fan like you’ve just massacred his entire family. Times like these were when he wishes he wasn’t a man of pyro. His body already running hotter than a non pyro visions user. He looks all dejected as you fan yourself and only feeling a bit better when you put your bare foot against his.
How genshin men would react to them falling in love with you after rejecting you
Assuming a year has past since your confession. They aren’t sure if you still like them.
Tries to win you over (Subtly)
He believes that if you liked him back then you can like him now. You haven’t got over him, have you? It’s only been a year. You have to still like him a little, right? He tried to reject you as respectfully as possible so all he can do is hope he didn’t break your heart. He goes full courting mode. He will subtly court you or even seduce you if he must. He definitely replays your confession in his head at night. How could he reject you out of all people. Anything you told him during your confession is 100% being used against you. Oh so you like how his gifts are always so considerate? Well now his gifts are extra considerate. Oh you like how strong he is? Well he just happens to show off when protecting you from some hilichurls. He catches one reaction. One small blush or longing look. Any sort of proof that you still like him and he’s asking you out on the spot. He tries being subtle about it to hide his slight guilt for rejecting you then asking you out a year later. If you make him say it then he’ll try to laugh it off. “I mean you did say you wanted to go out with me didn’t you?”
Wriothesley, Heizou, Kaeya, Flins
Desperately Tries to win you over
Similar to the last one except he’s a lot more embarrassed by what he’s doing. He feels like a moron for rejecting you. He honestly can’t tell if you do or don’t still like him. Eventually he asks you out with the same amount of effort you put into asking him. “Hey uh, is that offer for *blank* still open?” He’ll ask while actively blushing.
Kaveh, Itto, Gorou,
Locks in
He is not going to fumble you twice. He’s going to make sure you love him again no matter what it takes. You’ll suddenly notice he’s a lot more attentive. He’ll give you gifts and sometimes just look at you. You don’t know how to feel. Does he like you? He rejected you so you must be overthinking right? Eventually he asks you out as nonchalantly as he can though secretly his heart is beating the life out of his chest.
Kinich, Albedo, Alhaitham,
Plays off the rejection
He’s really hoping you don’t remember his rejection. He’s convinced he wasn’t in his right mind when he rejected you. You’re literally perfect for him. He acts a little bit like a female high schooler with a crush. Overly laughs at your jokes, sits a little too close, stares at you whenever he thinks you aren’t paying attention. When he asks you out he plays it off as a spur of the moment type of thing but in truth he’s been thinking about asking you out for a while. He really hopes that you 1: still like him and 2: that you don’t hold his rejection against him.
He feels upset about liking you. How could he have waited so long to fall in love with you. He’ll stare at his ceiling wondering how he could be so dumb. He wouldn’t confess to you. How could he? It’s been a year. There is no way you still love him. He’ll long for you from afar as if you were the one who rejected him.
Neuvillette, Xiao, Tighnari, Durin, Baizhu
Apologizes
He’ll confess to you but not without an apology. He will apologize for breaking your heart and ask for another chance with a bouquet or something else you like. He feels terrible for rejecting you but doesn’t beat himself too much over it. All he can do is hope you accept but understands why you might reject him.
Kazuha, Gaming, Diluc, Sethos,
Avoids you
He feels so dumb and doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings. His face heats up whenever you talk to him. When you first asked him out he had no interest in romantic relationships but now he wishes he had one with you. He avoids you so much you’re convinced he hates you. It takes intervention from one of his friends/siblings for you to understand what was going on.
hi guys..... I'm still alive but sorry to disappoint, I don't have much written works 💔 both kdj, lads, and other works have been postponed for the time being.
But! I've been very busy with artfight these 3 days, and I just wanna share what i've drawn!
I have school now so, that's apart of the reason why I don't go online anymore 😭
As I write this, Valko is standing over my shoulder.
He insists he isn't reading it, yet every now and then I catch him stealing a glance before pretending to look away. Don't be upset with him, my love. He's not a bad man, just an awfully curious one. You probably know that already. He's still the same silly nerd with chocolate on his hands and more curiosity than shame. Sometimes I think your sister would've adored him. She would've laughed at how easy it is to fluster him.
He promised me one of his colleagues would deliver this letter to you. He said he owed me this much.
Caleb... I never imagined I would write you a goodbye letter. Not because I stopped loving you. Never because of that. If anything, it is because I love you too much. I have to leave. There are things that have become tangled beyond either of us, and Valko being Valko, managed to throw himself into the middle of it all. My love, I cannot let him face it alone. So I am going with him, not because I was asked to, but because I chose to.
Please don't think this means I chose him over you. Because I didn't, I never will. If life had been kinder, if it had given me a choice that didn't ask me to leave someone behind, I would have chosen you every single time. I'm going because he needs me. Not because I love you any less. Not because someone else has taken the place that has always belonged to you. There has never been anyone else, Caleb. There has only ever been you.
I don't know when I'll return. I don't know if I'll return at all. I wanted to tell you I have no regrets, because it sounds brave. But I have never been very good at lying to you. I have one, just one. It's that I never got to marry you. I never got to stand beside you and promise forever beneath an open sky. I never got to build a home with you. I never got to grow old with you, to watch the years leave little lines on our faces while we argued over little things and laughed about them a minute later.
We were only given seasons, far too few of them. The days we spent together now feel like fleeting summers, warm, golden, impossibly beautiful and cruelly short compared to the winter that awaits us apart. How unfair it is that a lifetime of loving you can be remembered in fragments. Your laugh. The way your hand always found mine without thinking. The kisses that made the world quieter. The way you looked at the sky, as if it had been waiting for you long before you learned how to fly. Every time you took off, I found myself looking up too, wondering which patch of blue was holding the person I loved most.
The warmth you carried so effortlessly, as though your surname had become your soul. Xia. Summer. Because wherever you were, life felt warmer. Like sunlight after days of rain. Like coming home.
If the years ahead are spent without me, promise me something. Don't stop looking at the sky. Keep flying. Keep chasing every sunrise from above the clouds. Keep finding peace where the sky meets the horizon. Don't let my absence make the world feel smaller. If anything, I hope you'll love the sky enough for the both of us. And when summer comes... Please don't hate it because it reminds you of me. Stand in the sunlight. Feel the warmth on your face. Smile when the wind finds you. I'd like to think that's my way of finding you again.
And if by some miracle, I find my way back to you... I hope you'll still call my name the same way you always did. And if I don't... Then let this letter be the last proof that there was once someone in this world who loved you with every piece of herself.
And one last thing Caleb I need you to remember this, even if one day my voice fades from your memory. You will never be unloved by me. Not while the sky is still blue. Not while summer still returns. Not in this life. Not in whatever comes after. For as long the skies still carry your wings, my heart will always find its way back to you.
I’m still pretty new to the LADS fandom but yall hear me out. (This is gonna be angst obviously because that’s literally my whole personality at this point LMAOO) THIS IS JUST AN IDEA SO DONT ATTACK ME🥲
LADS x Obsession with non mc!!
Non-Mc who is in love/likes the lads guys but their eyes are set on MC while they view non mc as just a friend/close friend.
Okay stay with me now
Non mc comes across this strange store which is where she then comes across the one wish willow
(STAY WITH ME NOW DONT GET DISTRACTED)
Non mc sees this and at first thinks it’s a joke, she buys it just for shits and giggles blah blah alr fast forward to non mc seeing the Lads guys being head over heels for mc (she’s a bit oblivious or maybe not?) anyways, non mc gets sad, she goes home, throws herself a pity party as she sits in her living room eating her feelings away.
Anyways she sees the one wish willow on her coffe stable (she’s doesn’t even remember it being there) and for a second thinks….should I?
Boom she makes the wish, it’s quiet, nothing “magical” happens and she just sits there as she realizes what she did and just cry laughs.
This is literally one of the most pathetic things non mc has ever done.
Fast forward to the next day and non mc notices something weird.
They woke up to a text from the lads guys asking if they can come over, two hours ago.
Okay
Non mc texts back and after hitting send, she gets a reply almost immediately.
Alr walk with me now!!
Lads guys text back, asked if they can come over, boom non mc and lads guys are chilling in her living room. She listens as the lads guys rant about moving on from mc and that it felt like a sudden switch when they realized mc doesn’t feel the same blah blah blah
WEIRD?
Non mc is baffled. I mean seriously? This is the number one guy who is DANGEROUSLY and FOOLISHLY in love with mc. Like they would do ANYTHING for her.
And now they gave up? Moved on?
And when the lads guys look up at non mc and gives her this almost soft and warm look. Their pupils are blown wide as they look at you weirdly.
The same look that was always for mc
Anyways fast forward
Non mc tries to avoid the boy at first, doesn’t work because somehow he always knows where she’s at or appears where she’s at.
Then they start talking
Sometimes she sees a flash of betrayal in his eyes when they’re out but it quickly vanishes as it appeared. Lads guys continue to pursue non mc and even asks her to be their gf but every-time she tries to respond back it’s like something in her head stops her.
When they cuddle, for a splint second the guys jolt or even pushes her away before quickly changing up and grabbing her to cuddle closer.
One time while they were hanging out in her room, she doesn’t know how or what happened but it’s like the lads guys snap out of something before quickly yelling out “THATS NOT ME” And then returning back to “normal”.
Non mc is startled. And slowly grows terrified as it continues.
By now, non mc remember about the wish and what happened that night. She also figures out that this isn’t them. That whatever is controlling the boy she loves isn’t actually the real thing.
Which breaks her heart
She does research, tries to repair everything and to get him out of this curse. She even tries to go back to the store where she bought the cursed thing but when she reaches the destination where that small store stood, it was an abandoned building.
She decides to call the number from the back of the box, and as the man on the phone says there’s nothing else she can do to take back that wish, she grows more and more desperate.
The lads guys continue to pursue her, takes her out on dates and even tries to give her a kiss but she always dodges it, disgust crawling up her skin as she knows everything is fake. That this isn’t them and that they don’t really feel the same way.
She watches as hurt flashes across their eyes when they go out for just a split second as Mc moves on and starts dating a different guy (#bringbackvalko)
But it quickly goes away as the other version of them takes her hand and kisses it. As “he” declares his “love” for her as he again, asks her to be his gf.
She feels sick
Then one night, she calls the number again. Desperate for answers. Desperate for a solution.
And she gets one
Just, she realizes that this is all her fault, if only she didn’t let her feelings get in the way.
That night as the lads guys continue blowing up her phone asking her where she is, she gets ready to break the wish.
You can decide whether she 💀 herself or does something else to break the wish but GUYS pls…
I need this like someone needs to write this
Or maybe ILL write it🫠 drafts are ready.
and heavy angst pls…like pls 😭
This is just a fic idea so don’t attack me if you hate non mc related things😭
Someone pls grant me this one wish🥴 I would write it but as I said, I’m still new to the fandom and have other fics I need to work on at the moment. ANYWAYS THATS ALL THANK YOU FOR LISTENING TO MY LIL RANT.
Being pregnant with Diluc Ragnvindr’s child meant discovering just how deeply capable of love he truly was. Not loud love. Not dramatic love. But the kind that lived quietly in every small thing he did.
At first, Diluc didn’t believe you. Not because he doubted you, because he genuinely froze.
“You’re… pregnant?”
You nodded nervously, hands clasped together. For a moment he simply stared. Then his entire expression softened in a way almost nobody ever got to witness. His gloves were still dusty from work at Dawn Winery when he cupped your face carefully, like you were something fragile.
“We’re having a child,” he whispered, almost to himself.
You’d never seen him look happier. Diluc became unbearably protective afterward. Not controlling. Just attentive to everything. If you looked tired, he noticed. If you skipped a meal, he noticed. If you winced even slightly, he was already beside you asking what was wrong.
Adelinde once laughed quietly because Diluc had practically turned Dawn Winery upside down searching for the exact tea you mentioned craving one time. One. Time.
“You don’t have to do everything yourself,” you sighed one evening.
Diluc glanced up from the kitchen.
“You carried wine barrels by yourself this morning.”
“I was helping.”
“You are carrying my child.”
“That doesn’t make me fragile.”
“No,” he agreed softly. “But it does make you precious.”
And suddenly you forgot what argument you were trying to make. The first time he felt the baby kick, Diluc genuinely stopped breathing for a second. His hand rested against your stomach while the fireplace crackled softly nearby. Then, Kick. His crimson eyes widened immediately.
“Again,” he said quietly.
You laughed. “The baby doesn’t perform on command.”
Another kick hit his palm. Diluc looked completely awestruck. Like nothing in Teyvat had ever mattered more than that moment. He talked to the baby when he thought you were asleep. Softly. Tenderly. Telling them about the winery, Mondstadt, the stars outside your window. Promising he would protect both of you. And Diluc was not someone who made promises lightly.
When your pregnancy became more difficult later on, Diluc barely slept. He stayed beside you through every ache, every restless night, every fear. If you cried from stress or hormones, he never once made you feel embarrassed. Instead, he’d pull you against his chest and gently smooth your hair back while murmuring:
“You are not a burden to me.”
Sometimes that alone was enough to make you cry harder. The day your child was finally born, Diluc looked more nervous than when facing Abyss mages. His hands trembled slightly while holding the baby for the first time. A tiny little thing wrapped carefully in blankets. Your tiny little thing. Diluc stared down at them with visible emotion in his eyes before looking at you exhausted in bed.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Not because you gave him an heir. Not because of legacy. But because in a life filled with grief and loss. You gave him a family again.
Your words ring in his ears as he looks at you, torn between flattery and confusion. Bizarrely, the vessel of destruction suddenly feels self conscious, raising a hand—unoccupied by the sword—and pressing his fingers against the surface of his chest. Brushing over the noticeable golden gashes etched into this broken body. Khaslana can only see a vessel with limited time, destined to burn into dust. Into nothing.
Yet, here you are.. Looking up at him with—wonder? Admiration? He can't decipher. Knowing you see him as anything but a broken shell has him feeling the need to squeeze you.
Without a word—he quickly gathers you in his arms, ignoring the instinctive loud yelp leaving your lips. Your arms wrap themselves around his shoulders, needing stability, while avoiding touching the jagged armory that tore through his skin.
Your breathing has turned shaky, your gaze develops an aversion in meeting his own. Despite his insistence in pressing his face to the side of yours, nose brushing against your jawline, tracing over your skin. So terribly soft.
You ought to stop being so… charming. Khaslana’s love for you threatens to fully drown him; he’ll lose all sanity, and only you will remain to hold him up—Though if it means never being separated from you, he will drag you under the waves with him.
ahh congrats on 100+ you really deserve it!! if i may, may i request diluc + ☔️?
thank you anon!! <3 i'll be honest i have NEVER written for diluc before, so i hope this is okay hjsdfhsdh
find the event here!
"You know, most people try to avoid getting sick."
Your miserable trek through the rain is interrupted by a flash of red and a sudden stillness, the water that had been previously pelting down over you coming to an abrupt stop.
You straighten up purely out of habit, your eyes finding Diluc's own fiery red ones like second nature. He stands next to you with an umbrella raised above your head, ignorant of the fact that you had already been fully drenched.
The two of you had fallen into a bit of a routine over the past few weeks— You, walking home after a long day, would casually stroll past Angel's Share… And Diluc, ever the gentleman, would offer to walk you home despite only just getting off work himself. You never brought up the fact that you knew Diluc would hang around even after closing to catch you on your way home, and he never mentioned it either.
So overall, you had expected to see him tonight. What you hadn't expected was the sudden rain that shrouded the city in the blink of an eye, leaving you soaked from head to toe within seconds.
"Hm? Are you perhaps worried, Master Diluc?" You tease, taking the umbrella that he so generously hands to you. It's a slight reprieve from the cold of the rain— but considering your clothes are already soaked, it does little to actually comfort you. "Still planning on walking me home?"
"Of course. It's not safe for you to be walking alone so late at night."
"Then I guess you plan on walking through the rain the whole way back?" You spin the umbrella playfully above your head, watching the droplets of water fly off in a pretty spiral. "Let's share it. Then you can stay dry and keep me safe. A win-win."
"I don't need it, I insist that—"
Before he can argue further, you're pressing in close to his side so that the umbrella is covering the both of you. Diluc can only sigh in resignation, taking the umbrella from your hand to at least lift that burden from your shoulders. Despite his insistence, there's a fond little smile on his handsome face— and suddenly, despite the current state of your clothes, you feel much warmer than before.
Perhaps he thinks you don't notice, but it's rather difficult to miss the way that he allows the shoulder of his expensive coat to sit in the rain so that you stay wholly under the umbrella's cover.
Listen, I'm not saying that Diluc chasing after me in the pouring rain to stop me from leaving his estate and taking me by the hand to declare he loves me "most ardently" will fix all my problems.
The intimacy of caressing Diluc's face on a lazy afternoon where you are lying next to him. Lips slightly parted, he breathes in and out lightly. The gentle wind from the window blows the curtains lightly and his hair falls on his face.
You're are starting to doze off as well. Everything feels so peaceful on this quiet afternoon. You look at him and see the peace and calm. You gently caress his cheeks and move the hair away from his forehead and rub the little scar on his left chin and find your hands going through his soft red hair.
He shifts a little, closer to you. Eyes still closed. Your thumbs brush over his lips and you take in every little detail of his to memory.
Immortal life, as it turned out, was not a grand canvas of cosmic exploration or profound enlightenment. For you, immortality was an endless, suffocating mountain of work.
It was your "purpose", or so the universe seemed to insist.
Your work ethic was commendable, devout, and entirely terrifying to your peers.
The salary was magnificent. The benefits were flawless. But you were working yourself into a beautifully gilded grave.
"I cannot keep doing this!"
Desperate for a pink slip, you had tried sabotaging your own career. You deliberately scrambled the budget projections for a major department. Instead of being fired, a supervisor covered for your "brilliant restructuring mistake" and handed you a promotion.
You showed up late, argued with management, and accidentally deleted an entire archive. They called it "creative boundary-pushing" and gave you a bonus.
You were too good at your job to be allowed to leave.
----
Everybody here knows Sunday.
Who doesn't want to meet him in person?
Rumors constantly echo through Penacony about the pristine, angelic man who holds the reins of the planet. The public deeply admires him. Naturally, that level of perfection breeds immense envy; countless ambitious figures dream of overthrowing him, actively plotting and craving the immense power of his high position.
From the high, shadowed balconies, Sunday got his view of everything.
How coincidental, then, that his attention bumped onto you. Just at the right time, as you were always on time. You had quickly become a slight entertainment in this suffocating life of his.
He saw the subtle slump of your shoulders, the heavy sigh you exhaled when you thought no one was looking, and the absolute devotion you poured into a world that didn't care if you withered away.
To Sunday, you weren't just a capable worker. You were a beautiful, tragic bird singing its heart out inside a cage of its own making. And a need began to take root in his soul: he was going to build a new cage, one made of velvet and silk, just for you.
----
You were rushing down the corridor, your vision entirely blocked by a precarious tower of high-priority ledgers. Turning a sharp corner, you crashed directly into someone.
The tower collapsed. Papers and data pads scattered across the polished floor in a chaotic mess.
"Watch where you're-"
Standing before you was Sunday himself, his halo casting a faint glow. Instantly, his bodyguards stepped forward, but before they could touch you, Sunday subtly raised his hand. The guards froze instantly, stepping back.
He knelt down on the cold marble floor, his elegant, spotless coat brushing the dust as he personally began to gather your scattered papers. He handed them back to you, his fingers lingering against yours for a fraction of a second.
"Careful."
You thanked him and hurried off.
---
It was well past midnight, you were deep into overtime, your eyes straining against the glow of the screen, when a soft knock rattled the door.
You didn't bother looking up. "Come in"
The door clicked open. You finally raised your gaze, only for your breath to hitch.
It was Sunday. And he was entirely all by himself.
Surprise cutting through your fatigue, you immediately began to stand up from your chair to offer a proper greeting. But before you could even straighten your posture, Sunday subtly raised a his hand, signaling you to remain seated.
"Lord Sunday.." you managed, clearing your throat as you questioned his sudden appearance. "To what do I owe the honor? Is there an emergency with the ledger sheets?"
"No," Sunday replied "I am here to offer you a deal."
You stared at him, entirely dazed. The sheer absurdity of the ruler standing in your cramped office to negotiate a deal made your brain short-circuit.
Exhaustion taking over, you raised your hands to rub your eyes aggressively, fully prepared to slap yourself across the face to ensure this wasn't some vivid, sleep-deprived hallucination.
Before your hand could make contact with your cheek, Sunday’s fingers wrapped gently but firmly around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.
"It is not a dream." he murmured, "I can free you from all of this work."
At those words, the absolute fatigue in your soul vanished, replaced by a sudden, blinding flash of euphoria. Your eyes sparked with a brilliant, desperate light. Looking at your sudden transformation, Sunday actually paused, half-wondering if a pair of imaginary, eager ears had just popped out of your head from pure expectation.
Amused but entirely focused on his prize, he continued detailing the terms of the arrangement. "You will leave this place tonight and accompany me to my estate. You will be stripped of your current titles. In return, you will serve strictly as my personal assistant.. and my lover."
He braced himself. He had spent days drafting every persuasion plan possible, preparing legal threats, coercive maneuvers, and responses to your inevitable panic or denial.
He was ready to force your compliance if he had to.
But you didn't even wonder why he wanted you. As long as you were finally, legally free from the infinite nightmare of your current workload, nothing else mattered.
"DEAL!" you said immediately, blindly agreeing without a single shred of hesitation. You slammed your terminal shut with a definitive thud, pushed your chair back, and looked up at him with a happy, entirely willing smile. "When do we leave?"
"Right now" Sunday replied, reaching down to gently guide you out of your chair.
---
You moved into the estate that very night. Sunday had assigned you the bedroom directly adjacent to his - for the sake of convenience.
The next morning, you woke up incredibly early without the screeching panic of an alarm. Your internal clock was simply too deep in its corporate programming after decades of your old routine. Normally, you would have already been halfway through your first shift by now.
Deciding to make a bold move, you walked out into the grand hallway and stepped up to his door. You raised your hand, but just as you were about to knock, the heavy wood swung open.
Sunday stood there, a rare flash of genuine surprise crossing his features as he found you standing on his threshold so early.
"You are awake."
"I was just about to head down for breakfast," you replied, "I thought maybe you could come along?"
The breakfast that followed was an incredibly quiet affair. Sitting across from him at the long table, you didn't say a word. You focused entirely on eating, cutting your food with precision and clearing your plate with the single-minded determination of someone who used to have exactly seven minutes to consume a meal before a board meeting.
What you didn't notice, however, was the questionable look developing on Sunday's face. He sat with his fork poised mid-air, his golden eyes narrowed in a mix of mild bewilderment and deep scrutiny. He watched the absolute, unwavering intensity you directed at your toast.
His mind spinning into a spiral of analytical concern.
Are they simply too exhausted to speak to me? Or... are they so terribly bored by my company that they prefer the conversation of a plate?
When you finally finished, you set your utensils down with a neat click, looked up, and noticed his plate was barely half-done. You didn't rush him, you simply folded your hands in your lap and waited with a patient, professional demeanor.
"Lord Sunday..." you spoke up, breaking the silence. "What is your schedule for today? I should familiarize myself with your itinerary so I can properly manage your tasks."
After all, your pragmatic mind was still heavily focused on the assistant part of your midnight arrangement. As for the lover half of the deal? You secretly figured he might have just been kidding.
Sunday lowered his fork, his expression shifting from bewildered to deeply amused.
"Just call me Sunday, Y/N. My schedule is of no concern to you today," Sunday murmured, leaning back slightly as a servant stepped forward to clear the table. "First of all, you will be spending your morning at our private spa. I have already ordered the attendants to prepare a therapeutic regimen."
"A... spa? I am entirely fit to look over your correspondence-"
"Look at yourself in the mirror." Sunday interrupted smoothly, "We are going to get rid of the lingering tiredness on your face, and those dark circles. You are under my care now."
The hours that followed were a complete blur of steam, aromatic oils, and a level of absolute luxury you didn't even know existed. By the time the attendants finished, your skin felt rejuvenated, the heavy fog in your brain had cleared, and you felt undeniably, profoundly refreshed.
Shortly after, Sunday personally came to collect you, his eyes sweeping over your revived appearance with an immense, quiet satisfaction.
He led you through the winding, sunlit corridors of the estate until you reached his private wing. Right as you approached, two silent, impeccably dressed attendants stepped forward in perfect unison, bowing deeply as they pushed open the massive double doors to usher you both directly into his office.
Right immediately after your arrival, work came right after. Sunday took his seat at the massive desk, instantly shifting into a state of quiet focus as he began reading through the thick stack of documents required for him to review.
You, however, couldn’t just stand there. Driven by decades of deeply ingrained professional habit, you pulled up a chair to sit right beside him, shifting nervously as you waited for your first official assignment.
But nothing really came. Sunday simply turned the pages, completely ignoring your eager posture.
Anxious to prove your worth, you leaned in closer, pointing out a glaring administrative mistake written on the paper. "Sunday, this budget projection is flawed. If you'll allow me-"
You reached out to grab the closest pen from the desk to note it down, but before your fingers could close around it, Sunday’s hand moved with blinding speed, gently but firmly intercepting your wrist.
He set the pen back down. Clearly, he did not want you working.
Left with absolutely nothing to do, you sank back into your chair. For an immortal entity used to a chaotic, three-jobs-a-day lifestyle, this forced idleness was agonizing. Slowly, the warm, rhythmic scratch of Sunday’s fountain pen and the absolute quiet of the office allowed the post-spa relaxation to take over. Sleepiness began to creep in through the sheer, unadulterated boredom.
Desperate to stay awake, you suddenly stood up and stepped behind his chair. Seeking any excuse to be useful, you raised your hands and began to give him a firm shoulder massage. There was no real reason for it, but Sunday didn't oppose the act.
Emboldened, you kept doing it, your eyes naturally drifting back down to the documents over his shoulder. You began reading the complex political paperwork from behind his back. Sunday didn’t mind this either, seemingly content to let you browse his private thoughts as long as your hands kept relieving his tension.
You became so intensely focused on deciphering a difficult paragraph that your hands moved entirely on instinct. Your fingers slid upward, accidentally brushing against the soft feathers of the small wings nestled behind his ears.
Sunday went entirely rigid, a ragged breath hitching in his throat.
"I am so sorry!" you blurted out, instantly pulling your hands back as if you'd been burned, your cheeks flushing with professional mortification. You scrambled right back to your seat, bowing your head in apology. Sunday didn't scold you, his face averted as he quietly continued his work.
----
The next thing you knew, the office was gone.
You woke up to the low, comforting purr of an engine and the gentle swaying of a luxury vehicle. Your head was resting against something incredibly comfortable- which you quickly realized was Sunday's shoulder. You were leaning entirely against him in the backseat of his car, his arm loosely wrapped around your waist to keep you steady.
You bolted upright, your heart hammering as you apologized profusely for the second time that day, your mind entirely blank as to how you had even ended up here.
"It seems doing nothing bores you so thoroughly that you simply fell asleep at your chair. I merely carried you out."
By the time the car pulled up to the grand entrance of the estate, the moon was high in the sky. You walked back inside together, your mind hazy but determined to finally head to your own bed. But just as you turned to head toward your room, Sunday’s hand caught your elbow.
"Sunday?"
"I will be requiring your assistance with some personal matters." he spoke smoothly, his voice dropping into a low, commanding register that left no room for negotiation. "Therefore, for tonight, you will be sleeping in my room."
Your brain immediately flooded with a million chaotic visions.
What does he mean by personal matters? What does he mean by sleeping in his room?
---
You had already finished changing into a simple, comfortable pair of nightclothes minutes ago. You were always incredibly quick with those casual, everyday routines. Work had occupied nearly every waking second of your immortal life, leaving you no time to dally. But when it came to an unpredictable, deeply personal situation like this? You have no idea what to do.
"Come in, Y/N."
You swallowed hard and stepped inside.
It was genuinely hard to imagine that such a visual could exist right here, right now, in front of you. You were literally breathing the same air as him, but judging by how painfully ordinary you felt compared to how absolutely pristine, angelic, and breathtaking he was, the more your nerves threatened to choke you.
"Have you forgotten our arrangement so soon?" he murmured, "Being my assistant is only half the deal."
You couldn't even formulate a response.
What does he mean by that? How does a god-like figure even act as a lover to an overworked clerk?
Seeking any possible anchor to ground your frantic mind, you noticed him sit down in front of his vanity mirror. His hair was slightly tangled from the long day. Seizing the opportunity to be useful - to act like an assistant rather than a panicked mess - you stepped forward and picked up a nearby brush to help him out.
This time, you were extra, painfully careful around the wings, keeping your fingers at a strict distance because of the burning embarrassment from today's accident.
To break the suffocating, intimate silence, you forced yourself to speak. "Being swamped in work for years... it barely left me any time for regular interactions with others," you confessed, gently working a knot out of his hair. "Aside from demanding colleagues and angry customers, I had nothing."
Sunday remained perfectly still, listening intently to the soft confession of your isolation. When you finally finished brushing the last strand, he slowly turned around in his chair. Before you could step back, he reached out and firmly held both of your hands in his.
He began to speak to you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that felt heavy enough to crush the air right out of your lungs. But honestly? You didn't hear a single word he was saying.
The sheer, overwhelming proximity to him, the gentle warmth of his hands, the faint scent of incense, and the ethereal perfection of his face right in front of yours drove your brain so completely crazy that the internal pressure reached a boiling point.
Your vision blurred, your knees turned to water, and your consciousness simply checked out from pure, unadulterated aesthetic overload. You fainted right then and there.
During some point of the night, you had a brief, fleeting moment of semi-consciousness. You remembered a distinct, heavy feeling pressing down on you. A comforting, suffocating warmth wrapping completely around your body. But your mind was too foggy to comprehend what it was, and the deep, heavy pull of sleepiness dragged you right back under before you could open your eyes.
On the other hand, from Sunday's point of view, the night had been a severe exercise in absolute restraint.
When you had suddenly fainted into his arms from sheer nervous exhaustion and overwhelming proximity, he had caught you. A chuckle had vibrated in his chest as he lifted you up and carefully laid you beneath the fine silk sheets of his bed.
He had spent the next hour just sitting on the edge of the mattress, watching you sleep. He looked at your peaceful face, now completely free of the dark circles he so thoroughly despised. Slowly, Sunday leaned down, his wings flaring slightly as he cradled your face and patiently pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.
It was a miracle of pure willpower that he restrained himself from pushing any further. He knew you were a fragile, tired bird adjusting to a new cage, and he would not ruin his perfect victory by rushing you.
---
The next morning, you woke up with a heavy, throbbing headache - the unmistakable tax of your brain short-circuiting the night before.
You blinked against the bright sunlight, shifting beneath the heavy blankets, only to realize that Sunday was nowhere to be seen. The space beside you was empty, though the sheets still carried his faint scent.
Sitting up and rubbing your temples, you noticed a small, elegant piece of parchment resting on the nightstand beside a glass of water.
I have Family matters to attend. Drink the water, rest, and do not dare touch a single piece of work while I am gone. I'll be back soon, my love.
With the help of a few quiet, impeccably polite servants, you managed to change into fresh clothes and shake off the last remnants of your headache.
Left completely to your own devices with absolutely zero work to do, you decided to go for a stroll. The estate was massive, a sprawling paradise of pristine marble and hidden courtyards, it would be a complete waste not to look around.
After making a few deliberate turns through the hallways, you stumbled upon the estate’s library.
It was insane. Thousands upon thousands of leather-bound books and glowing data crystals rose up to the impossibly high ceiling, meticulously separated by subject, era, and even the subtle gradient of their spine colors.
You wandered deep into the towering aisles, running a finger along the shelves, when a man appeared out of nowhere.
"An impressive collection, is it not?" he murmured, bowing elegantly. He introduced himself as the keeper of the library.
Before you could politely greet him, his expression turned deadly serious. "You do not belong here," the keeper warned softly, looking over his shoulder. "I know who you are, and I know what Lord Sunday has told you. But you are being deceived."
Logically, you knew you shouldn't trust a complete stranger you had just met in a dark aisle. But then again... wasn't Sunday also someone you had just met?
"Then what do you suggest?.. What should I do?"
The keeper reached into his robes and pulled out a small, folded piece of parchment.
"If you wish to reclaim your true freedom, you must escape tonight. This map details the estate's hidden layout. It will lead you to a sealed emergency exit." He handed you the map, his eyes boring into yours. "But there is a catch. The door is secured by a lock. To open it, you must input a passcode derived from a highly specific philosophical riddle. Only Sunday knows the answer."
---
'How you obtain it is entirely up to you.'
That night, for the first time since your arrival, you took the initiative.
It was the most unvolunteer, anxiety-inducing thing you had ever forced yourself to do, but you waited for Sunday outside his bedroom.
The library keeper has no reason to lie. What would he gain from this? What if Sunday is indeed the bad guy?
When he arrived, looking exhausted from his day, you swallowed your pride and suggested sleeping in his room again.
Sunday paused, his eyes widening slightly before a look of profound, quiet satisfaction washed over his face. "Of course" he said, opening the door for you without a single question.
Once inside, you took a deep breath.
It will be fine, you can do this.
"Sunday... you look incredibly tense," you said, forcing your voice to remain steady. "I have just learned a hypnosis skill meant to relax the mind and relieve stress. Would you allow me to try it on you?"
Sunday looked at you for a long moment. You had no idea why he was always so incredibly lenient with every single choice you made, or why a man of his terrifying power would willingly lower his guard for you. Yet, he simply sat down in his chair, "If it pleases you, I am yours."
Using a slow, rhythmic cadence, you guided him into a deep, trance-like relaxation. Once his breathing slowed and his eyes grew heavy, you subtly slid the puzzle lock's riddle into the conversation.
From the depths of his hypnotized state, Sunday’s lips parted, and he softly murmured the exact, complex password.
You quickly memorized it, a sudden wave of sharp regret washing over you. He trusted you completely, and you were blatantly lying to his face. But you shook the feeling off.
I'm the prey in this story, you reminded yourself fiercely. I have to escape.
When Sunday finally blinked and shook off the hypnosis, he looked around the room, a faint frown on his face. "Nothing feels very different" he noted, rubbing his temples.
"I... I only just learned it recently" you lied quickly, backing toward the bed. "It probably didn't work well. Maybe next time I'll try harder."
"I look forward to it." Sunday murmured, rising from the chair and joining you beneath the silk sheets. But as you turned to close your eyes, his hand gently caught your chin. "Before you sleep, I believe I am owed a good night kiss."
You weren't afraid to try, especially since you needed to keep him compliant. Leaning forward, you gave him a quick, innocent peck on his cheek.
But apparently, Sunday didn't mean just that.
Before you could pull away, his hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling into your hair as he forcefully but elegantly corrected your mistake, sliding his lips over yours in a deep kiss.
Your brain short-circuited all over again. You didn't know when or how to stop, so you simply went along with it, completely helpless in his grip until Sunday finally decided to break the kiss himself.
"Good night, my love."
You lay perfectly still, forcing your breathing to remain slow and even. You faked being asleep for what felt like hours, waiting until the rhythmic, deep rise and fall of Sunday's chest proved he was fast asleep.
Slowly, you slipped out. You didn't dare make a sound as you crept across the moonlit bedroom, slipped through the door, and darted down the corridors, following the keeper's map.
Finally, you reached the metallic door hidden deep within the estate's lower levels.
With trembling fingers, you quickly input the exact password Sunday had given you. The mechanical tumblers whirred, a loud click echoed through the chamber, and the massive door began to swing open, revealing a blinding, brilliant light. Freedom was right in front of you.
But before you could take a single step forward, a sharp electronic beep echoed from the ceiling.
Before you could even react, a tiny, high-velocity projectile shot from the wall, burying itself straight into the side of your neck.
Your eyes went wide as a heavy, freezing numbness immediately flooded your veins. Your consciousness completely blacked out as you collapsed.
---
You woke up to the warmth of familiar silk sheets. As you blinked against the heavy fog in your brain, a familiar, immaculate silhouette materialized beside the mattress.
"You're awake." Sunday murmured, his voice a smooth, captivating melody that offered absolutely no hint of anger.
A sharp, blinding headache instantly ripped through your temples, forcing a low groan from your throat. You reached up to press your hands against your throbbing forehead, your mind scrambling to piece together the last things you remembered - the library keeper.. the sharp sting against your neck.
"Do not strain yourself," Sunday spoke softly, his fingers gently catching your wrists to lower your hands. "I was beginning to worry. It has been two days since your surgery. I was starting to fear you wouldn't wake up at all."
Your heart stopped. Surgery?
"What... what surgery?"
Panic cutting through the static in your brain, you tried to sit up abruptly, throwing the heavy blankets aside. That was when you felt it. Or rather, when you felt nothing.
A terrifying, hollow void existed where your lower limbs should have been. You tried to flex your feet, tried to shift your weight, but your legs refused to respond. They lay perfectly still, heavy and entirely detached from your command.
Sunday watched the exact moment the realization hit you, tracking the absolute horror that drained the color from your face.
"The tendons and pathways.." He placed his hand on your leg, "I had the surgeons cleanly sever them while you were asleep. You will never walk again."
Your breath hitched, a cold, suffocating wave of shock leaving you entirely pale. Your jaw trembled as you stared at him, looking for any sign of a cruel joke. But there was none.
He leaned forward, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his palms warm against your frozen skin. "There is no need to look so frightened. I will take care of you. I will be your legs from now on."
He leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath shallow. "You cannot imagine how deeply it pained me, Y/N. You passed my first test so beautifully.... But you failed the second."
A sickening dread settled in your stomach.
The second test.
"The library keeper.."
"A simple plan to test your loyalty. I needed to know if your devotion was pure, or if you were a bird that would fly away the moment a cage door was left ajar. I gave you the freedom to choose me again. Instead, you chose to deceive me."
The sheer weight of his calculation made your skin crawl. Sickened, you raised your trembling arms, desperately trying to push his chest away, to break out of his suffocating hold.
But before your hands could make solid contact, Sunday’s fingers shifted to the base of your skull. He pressed a specific, hidden pressure point at the nape of your neck, a subtle trigger that instantly magnified the throbbing pressure in your head.
The room spun violently. The dizziness returned tenfold, completely draining your physical strength.
Your strength vanished, and your head fell heavily forward, landing right against his shoulder. Sunday caught you effortlessly, his arms wrapping around your torso.
"There, there," he cooed, his hand gently stroking your hair as your consciousness began to fray. "Take a good rest. You will feel fine very soon."
As the darkness dragged you back down, your brain reverted to its oldest, deepest trauma. The fear of failure, the terror of punishment from your centuries of endless servitude flooded your fading thoughts.
You began to deliriously mumble into his coat. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, I'll fix the ledger... I'll rewrite the report... please, I'll fix it..."
Sunday’s fingers paused in your hair. A subtle flicker of pity crossed his elegant features. "Well... it seems I went a bit too far." he murmured to himself.
He shifted his grip, trailing his fingers over your forehead to hum a low, soothing melody that acted as a deep sedative. Your frantic mumbling slowed, your breathing leveled out, and you sank back into a deep, dreamless oblivion.
---
You woke up again later, hours or days, you couldn't tell. A lingering nightmare had just slipped through your fingers, leaving your mind completely hazy. You sat up slowly, your thoughts entirely blank. You couldn't remember how you got here, why your head throbbed.
The slate of your memory had been wiped thoroughly clean.
The doors of the bedroom swung open, and Sunday walked in. Noticing your open eyes, he immediately turned to a servant waiting in the hall. "Prepare a light meal and bring it up immediately."
He walked over to the side of the bed. Still running on pure instinct, you swung your upper body toward the edge of the mattress, intending to take a step out of bed to greet him. But the moment your weight shifted, your lower body failed to support you, and you began to fall forward out of the bed.
Sunday rushed forward with blinding speed, catching you securely in his arms before you could hit the floor.
He lifted you back up, cradling you against his chest. As your face pressed into the crook of his neck, the distinct, calming scent washed over you. It was weirdly, profoundly soothing. The moment you inhaled his scent, the dull headache you hadn't even realized you were holding completely dissolved.
"What... what is going on?" you asked, "Why can't I... why can't I stand?"
Sunday looked down at you, his eyes filled with an unshakeable, tranquil devotion. He adjusted his grip, pulling you into a protective, full-body hug, his hand steadily stroking your back to calm your rising anxiety.
"You don't remember, my love?" Sunday asked, "We were preparing for our wedding. Everything was perfect, but then you had a terrible accident. The doctors did what they could, but you are confined to this bed now."
You blinked, searching the empty spaces of your brain. A wedding? You didn't know why, but looking at his gentle smile and feeling the absolute safety of his embrace, you found yourself simply agreeing with it. "We... we were getting married?"
"Yes," Sunday nodded, his grip tightening just a fraction, "We are very much in love with each other. You gave up your exhausting life just to be by my side forever. Do you remember?"
"Oh," you murmured, completely dazed by his proximity. "We were?"
"Yes, love," Sunday whispered. He leaned down, his face stopping mere inches from yours, his eyes exerting a heavy, almost magnetic pull over your suggestible mind. He spoke with a quiet, absolute authority, not a harsh command, but an undeniable truth that your brain immediately accepted as reality. "And right now, you are feeling a deep desire to kiss your fiancé."
The words echoed in your mind like an absolute law. Without a single shred of hesitation, you leaned forward, your hands weakly clutching his lapels as you followed his direction, pressing your lips to his. Sunday met the kiss deeply.
As he pulled back, a deeply satisfied, triumphant expression settled over his face. His grand plan had technically failed halfway through, he hadn't managed to break your will through a test of loyalty, and he had been forced to break your wings to keep you from flying. But as he looked down at your blank, adoring smile, completely dependent on his touch and utterly trapped in his paradise, Sunday decided it didn't matter.
----
This fic was written in response to a request from an anonymous reader! I added a little twist here and there to the original request.
I couldn't reply directly to their request because I didn't want to spoil the surprises, so I truly hope them catch this upload! ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜.ᐟ
I had been trying to brainstorm a plot for a Sunday fic for a while but was completely stuck, so your ideas were incredibly helpful. Thank you so much!
inspired by Pag-Ibig ay Kanibalismo II by fitterkarma
apple divider by @lariesographic
You don't remember or exactly pinpoint where you started falling in love with Caleb. All you remember is how tight your chest feels when you think about how much you want to reach out to him. In a physical sense, it is easy to reach him, easy to hold his hand if you really wanted to. But in essence, there are consequences if you do. You try to sneak a peak at him through your peripheral.
There is a lightness in everything he does, regardless if he is running by your side around the university circle or as he is driving the two of you in his car. There is lightness in the way he taps his fingers along with the beat of the faint music from his stereo.
You've had each other's presence since you can remember, but despite the lightness in which he carries himself, there is a heaviness that drags you in deeper in the recesses of your heart and feeling.
Fuck, you love him so much.
Your feelings make it hard to breath thay you probably won't be surprised if you do look down and see a tangible box filled with memories, trinkets, and the moments shared between you - that maybe mundane for him but meant the world to you. The city lights illuminate his profile in a way that makes him look ethreal. Like you both had entered a pocket dimension where there is only him and there is only you. While your musings make everything rose-colored, you of course, keep your reality in check.
You don't know why, like most of the things that involve him, why he called you at this time of the night for a drive. Honestly, a part of you doesn't really want to know. Is it a situationship gone wrong again? Is it a failed talking stage? Is it a one time hookup turned clingy contact that he can't shake? You don't want to let your mind go to far, because if you do, you'll ask why it seems to never be you. You've been here long enough, so why aren't you in the choice?
You suppose he loves you this way. Loves you too much to consider you as anymore than you already are. Loves you to much to open you to the possibility of a heartbreak , as if being with him but never being with him doesn't break your heart in the first place.
It's pathetic, how even his silhouette can bring you to tears. You swallow it down and drown it with the sight of the pretty city lights passing by as he speeds along the elevated highway. It's like flying at some point. He clears his mind this way and every second with him makes yours foggy with only the thoughts of him.
There are time that you seem to leave him. In the ways that you keep to yourself, and in the ways that your face unconsciously looks pains in the middle of you silently thinking to yourself. He does want to ask you about it, like he always does. But there is a specific weight in the air that scares him. It is as if your turmoil boils too hot that if he does anything, it would explode into something that even he does not have the strength to ask. But boy does he want to ask, to help, to rip apart what it is that is bothering you.
Sometimes he does chide himself for the ways he has to indirectly ask you just so he can spend time with you. He thinks about the rather... colorful relationship or not, that he's had. And the way it feels as if there is a void in him that seems to be unfilled. A shame he masks that at the end of the day, he looks for your eyes, or try hard to hear the timbre of your voice in the countless faceless people that tried to entertain him. He is self-aware enough to know that what he does contribute nothing to the closeness he wishes and everything to the gaping hole between you two. It's a paradox really, how he looks for you yet how counterproductive searching for you in other people actually does to the actual you. He hates himself for it. So he'll settle for the consequences of the shit he's pulled.
To have you as you are at the moment. He'd be a hypocrite if he didn't admit to himself how much his hand wants to reach out from the stick shift and into yours. How much he wants to stop the car and grab your face and tell you, that hey, I want you. I adore you. I love you. It's years of pining but having no balls to stand up and say it. He hates himself for it. You turn to him, out of your own reverie and you blink at him and offer him a small smile. One that reaches your eyes and his mind goes silent.
It makes his sight blurry and he has to distract himself by looking back at the road and blinking the most away from his eyes.
God, he wants you. He wishes to be the man for you. But sometimes he thinks about how big the world is, how there is probably a man, out there, greater than him. That would not pull the stunts he did, that would not put pain in your eyes, that would probably treat you a million ways better than he can.
He hates how painful it is that whoever you choose would probably be the last man you'll be with- probably- because that is what you do. You love and you love hard. You love and you love for forever. You love and you'll probably get the happy ending most people dream of because that's what you deserve, and he'll be at the side lines watching you be a happy and fool himself into thinking thatvhe is happy for you to. That love is being happy when you are.
So while he still can, Caleb will settle for the moments of you.
The drive ends in silence. He parks just outside your building, and the rain has yet to stop.
You tell him that you'll wait for it to stop before leaving you don't want to get wet.
He tells you that's a good idea.
You both know that there is an umbrella big enough to cover you both in the back seat of his car.
You tell him about random stuff that has happened to you. Things you did at work, that excel file probably older than you that you were too scared to touch but ended up updating anyway, people at work that pissed you off, things you do in your spare time nowadays. You offer him a tree branch to make peace, to bridge the years you have not spoken to each other. It's there, the grit he fell in love with.
He reciprocates. He tells you what kind of adventures he's been in. What kind of life he is living, what kind of projects he is building. The different kinds of places he went to, food he ate, the things he wanted to try with you. It's there, the passion you fell in love with. For a moment you are both teenagers again, indulging youth by each other's side.
Before time has again caught up and reality brings you back.
"Did I ever tell you, I love you? " the question flies off of your mouth.
It he is caught off guard and it stops him, the glee in his eyes flee and it strikes you square in the chest.
The rain has yet to stop. This isn't the way you wanted to part with him, especially since being away from him for so long but, there something that whispers "now or never".
"Oh you mean like a friend or a brother?"
There is a shakiness in his voice, that makes him sound so unsure and uncomfortable to you that you wish you never said it in the first place. Way to dig your own grave, you suppose. But at least it is somehow clear to you where he would like to stand, even if it did kill you.
You chew on your bottom lip as you shake your head no. No. Your eyes water as you keep shaking your head in small movement. You barely whisper a no.
"I love you. Since I can remember. "
You don't even have the fight in you to look up. You wipe your nose with a sleeve and let out air from your mouth that feels like you have come up for air, "I don't expect you to do anything about it. I just... I just wanted you to know."
For a moment, Caleb didn't even think he heard you right. And for some goddamn reason he thinks that the next best thing he could do is clarify in the most stupidest way possible. The words and the exasperation that comes from you hits him like a truck, he isn't the only one grasping in moments and crumbs of affection, you are at the other end of if, reaching out to him to.
He gathers your face in his hands, he vomits the words out, his soul out, he offers you decades worth of apologies. He offers you the truth behind missed chances, the self-doubt, the selfish wish of having you by himself. He wants to be with you in ways you couldn't even think of and believe. He loves you. You. You. His face isn't even any better, slobbering, a teary and salty mess, snot and all.
He offers his heart in a silver platter to you, while, fresh, exactly as it it.
The kiss is hot, it's heavy, lips, tongue, teeth, heart and soul. He calls out your name softly in the kiss, with a lot of whispered 'don't leave me', breathed 'let me be with you'., and the cries of 'I love you' in between.
