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mephist00o · 3 days ago

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SAY YES

Availbe on ao3 [banner by mee]

desc: just equal amount of longing from you and sev with a surprise at the end :)

word count: 1.7k

tags: POC!reader in mind, established relationship, cowboy!sevika, wholesomeness, non-toxic yuri 👩🏾‍❤️‍👩🏿, reader lightly mentions rough upbringing with their sexuality

a/n: I love writing Sevika this way SOSOSO much, has to pull through for pride month but expect more fluffy Sevika content 🫶🏾 hope u all enjoy!

"You're radiant."

Your face blushes at her words. Sevika can't believe that you were actually with her.

The early mornings are the best parts of Sevika's day. The beautiful view from outside your shared farmhouse, on top of the even more beautiful view of you? Well, Sevika would have to be as wild as a house on wheels to not love that.

The vibrant shine of the sun hits your skin perfectly and you're just sitting there, dolling yourself up. Not for her, no. You just wanted to feel pretty. Which was crazy in Sevika's mind since you might as well be a goddess.

That's one of the things she loves about you, how you value your individuality. She sees you as one of a kind, a diamond in a world full of rocks, truly breathtaking.

The way you part your hair, your eyes, the way you stick your tongue out when your really focused on something, the smile you only show around her, anything and everything you do makes her feel like she's hit the jackpot in love.

Sevika's eyes continue scanning your movements. You can feel her intense gaze burning through you. Not to say you didn't enjoy it, of course not. It just takes some time to get used to.

Behind you, you hear your shared bed creak and feel calloused hands wrap themselves around you.

You peer your head to the side, taking in her smell.

"What, Sev?"

"Hmm? Can't I just enjoy being m'a girl's presence?"

She kisses your cheek swiftly.

You lean into the kiss and continue doing your eyeliner. You're preparing to meet up with some friends for a girl's trip, something Sevika suggested to you. Or, more like frantically begging you to go out with them. Something is up. It was as plain as the ears on a mule.

Sevika eventually leaves you to your business and starts to get ready for the day.

In the reflection of your vanity, the outline of her v-line catches your attention as you slowly start forgetting you're even doing your makeup. Sevika notices it. She doesn't tease you though, instead she just smiles to herself.

After a bit more ogling, you're about to get dressed, but before you can pick an outfit out, Sevika interjects.

"Oh actually, I know you're going out today, and I thought you'd like this outfit I bought you."

She hands you a gorgeous ensemble. It was an off the shoulder floral dress with pink roses across the hem of the skirt. It also included a gorgeous matching set of gold earrings and a necklace.

"just a little something, nothin' to fancy." You smile at her extremely adorable shyness.

"Sev! I absolutely love it." You lean in and sweetly kiss her cheek.

After you finished getting ready, you in your new outfit (via Sevika's request), and Sevika in a simple white tank with overalls and boots, you and Sevika start off your days.

You can't remember the last time you felt so free. Doing mundane farm work and living on a farm wasn't something you ever saw yourself doing, growing up in cities, but it brought such serenity into your life. You don't tell Sevika often, but you truly do thank her for being such a stable anchor to lean on.

Growing up having to hide almost every part of yourself for people who were supposed to love you unconditionally took a huge toll on your mental. Sevika gave you the freedom to truly be yourself without holding it against you. You loved her for that.

After reminiscing on you and Sevika's time together, you make your way to the front porch, waiting on your friends to pick you up. You can't help but take glances at Sevika working. The way her arms flexed while hauling up the sheep had you flustered. Honestly, seeing Sev do any manual labor has you going crazy.

Sevika's a painting, sweaty mess as she comes back over and sits next to you. You and her just enjoy each others presence for a bit before you interrupt the silence,

"Sev, my friends aren't here yet, I can still help you out y'know? I know how much the chickens give you trouble and-"

Sevika puts her hand up to your face and insists,

"Y/N, save part of your breath for breathing. And besides, what kinda lover would I be if I had my lady dent one limb on that pretty little body of hers?" A hand gently caresses your face.

You look at her, take in her features. Her sunken eyes cast shadow on her luminous tanned skin. Along with her smooth southern accent, everything about her made you weak in the knees.

You looked at her lovingly before changing the subject again. Your eyes hid something mischievous in them as you looked at Sevika.

"Speaking of, keep dressing like that and I'm not so sure I'll be able to handle myself..."

Looking at her chosen apparel, you fully start checking her out. She raises a brow and smiles, challenging you.

"Oh yeah? S'That a promise, doll?"

"Maybe it is..."

You cheekily turn away and hear Sevika laugh along to your antics. Does she even realize the things she does to you?

A brief pause happens between you too, but your thoughts are both quickly interrupted by the honk of your friend's car horn. She jokingly tells you and Sevika to get a room before beckoning you over. You laugh, kiss Sevika goodbye, and head out with your friend's

...

One large shopping spree, two movies, and a sweet treat (or two) later and you finally make it back home.

You were excited to show off what new stuff you bought at the mall to Sevika, but before you could call out to her you felt yourself step on something. An envelope. On top, it says OPEN ME in a big red pen. You open the letter, curiosity coursing through you.

'Hide and seek! Catch me if you can!'

What's she playing at?

You laugh a bit to yourself, being used to her silliness. You decided to play along and enter your shared home.

Roses cloud your vision. They're hanging across your ceilings along with various candles adorned with the potent scent of vanilla all around the home. The whole house looked like something out of a Disney movie.

A sign with red spray paint catches your attention and you turn to read it.

This way!

You follow the mysterious signs directions and make it to the next checkpoint. You start to wonder what this surprise could be. If Sevika's spending THIS much time it must be important.

Almost there babe!

You see the sign has an arrow next to it, leading you to your shared bedroom. Your patience is growing a bit thin. You gently turn the doorknob. What is so important that she sent out a whole wild maze-

You halt your movements.

Then, before you know it, their Sevika is. Standing in front of you in your bedroom, your favorite song lightly humming in the background, and rose petals shaped in a heart lay beneath your feet. She's replaced her wife pleaser with a black blazer and a loose-fitted burgundy button down. Your favorite color on her. She smelled like dark oak and cologne.

Sevika's hands are behind her while she's looking at you like you're her entire world. She strides her way towards you with hope oozing out of her eyes.

"Y/N L/N, I've dreaming about this day since I finally became yours,"

You can't help but laugh. Is this seriously happening?

"For the past few years, I've been trying to muster up the courage to even ask you this. Let alone trying to plan this whole thing out without you knowing."

Sevika chuckles a bit.

"I'll have to thank F/N later."

"You all were in on this?!"

No wonder. You mentally note that you're gonna be screaming at your friends later.

"Anyways, I wanted to make sure I said the right things to you. You're the strongest person I know, and it hurts me to know that you weren't treated like the goddess I know you as. You deserve to have poems written about you, love songs. And, we all know I'm no poet but..."

Sevika holds on to your (now trembling) hands and presses them to her lips. She stayed like that for a few moments then took a long, slow breath in.

"But you're my peace, my love. And I'll be damned if I miss my chance at telling you that."

Tears fall uncontrollably out your eyes as you try to think of something, anything to say. You and Sevika both giggle together at the sweet situation. Sevika lowers herself down on one knee before you, eyes filled with utter devotion.

"So, will you do this cowboy an honor and marry her?"

She pulls out a velvet wrapped box. Inside it, a gorgeous moonstone wedding ring held together by a golden band. It's the most beautiful ring you've ever seen

Your heart feels like it's swelling out of your chest. You force yourself to muster out a reply, Sevika still looking up at you patiently.

"Oh 'Vika, of course I will!"

You grab her face and kiss her before she can even get the ring on you. You both smile into the kiss as bliss completely engulfs the both of you. You couldn't be happier.

...

You both continue to hold each other through the night. Not a moment passes where you don't feel completely and utterly in love. You ended up forgetting all about the stuff you bought. That was nothing compared to this.

Eventually you both get cleaned up and make your way to bed. As you lay down various thoughts keep running through your head. When are you gonna start planning the actual event? How much will it cost?

Sevika looks at you, noticing your head being up in the clouds.

"You can worry about telling your friends and family about the engagement tomorrow," Sevika whispers to you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, I got you."

You hum in response, continuing to latch on to her warmth, and you both sleep the night away. Know that as long as Sevika's around, everything will be alright.

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mephist00o · 4 days ago

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LOVE AND DEEPSPACE — HE CONFESSES HIS LOVE FOR YOU

a/n: A MAN WHO YEARNS IS A MAN WHO EARNS !! also sorry if some of these sound repetitive, i was trying to make it fit the request

ZAYNE

You don’t remember exactly when you fell in love with Zayne.

Maybe it was the first time you caught him smiling — one of those rare, quiet things, tugging at the corner of his mouth like a secret only you got to see. Or maybe it was the way he remembered things about you: not the big, obvious stuff, but the little things — the way you take your coffee, the songs you hum when you’re distracted, the way your hand hovers just a second longer over old books.

It’s a quiet sort of adoration you carry for him. A fragile, sacred thing you keep pressed between your ribs where no one, especially not him, could see. You’re careful with it. You don’t flirt, you don’t push, you don’t hope.

Because how could someone like Zayne —sharp-eyed, steady, impossible Zayne — ever look at you and see what you so desperately feel?

You think you’re obvious sometimes. You catch yourself glancing at him for too long, leaning a little closer when he talks, laughing too quickly at his rare, dry jokes. But he never reacts. Never lingers. Never looks at you with anything other than that patient, unwavering calm.

So you resign yourself to the quietness of it. To loving him the way you love the stars —beautiful and distant and entirely untouchable.

Until today.

It starts the same as any other late evening. The sun has long since dipped below the horizon, the sky outside bleeding dark against the windows. You’re at headquarters, lingering over paperwork you don’t really need to be doing, pretending you aren’t waiting for him to pass by.

But tonight, Zayne doesn’t pass by.

He stops.

You don’t look up right away — you’re afraid if you meet his eyes, he’ll see everything you're trying so hard to hide. But you can feel him there, standing still, like he’s anchoring himself to the spot.

“Can we talk?” His voice is low, careful. It’s not a request.

Your heart trips over itself, but you nod. “Yeah. Of course.”

He moves to sit across from you, hands braced on his knees. He doesn’t fidget; Zayne never fidgets. But there’s a tension around him tonight, a quiet strain that unsettles you more than any sharp word or raised voice could.

For a moment, he says nothing. Just looks at you with those unreadable eyes, the ones you’ve tried so hard not to drown in.

“I’m not good at this,” he says finally, voice tight. “Feelings. Words.”

You smile, soft and aching. “I know.”

And you do know. You’ve known it since the beginning. Another reason why you could never expect anything more from him.

He exhales, sharp and quiet. His hands curl into fists against his knees.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t have them,” he says. “I do.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, hard. It hurts, but it keeps you grounded.

“Zayne, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” he cuts in, sharper than usual. Then his voice softens, almost pleading. “I do.”

Your breath stutters in your chest.

He drags a hand through his hair, a rare sign of unease. “I thought if I waited, you’d see it. If I stayed close enough, protected you enough, you’d know.”

You blink, stunned. What?

“But you didn’t.” His voice breaks a little on the last word, and you swear the world tilts.

“Zayne…” Your voice is barely a whisper, fragile and unsteady.

“I’m in love with you,” he says, like it costs him something, like it matters. And the way he’s looking at you — raw, open, desperate — you realize it does.

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He keeps going, filling the silence like he’s afraid if he stops, you’ll slip away.

“I tried to be patient. Tried to give you space. I thought — maybe you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you couldn’t.” He laughs, a rough, broken sound. “But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with just being near you.”

He leans forward, hands braced on the table now, like he’s anchoring himself to you.

“I love you,” he says again, quieter. “I don’t know how to stop.”

It’s overwhelming. It’s terrifying. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and everything you’ve convinced yourself you could never have.

You sit there, heart hammering, the words echoing inside you, cracking through every wall you’ve ever built.

And then — then — it clicks.

All the moments you thought were meaningless — the way he always sat just a little closer than necessary, how his hand would linger an extra second when he handed you something, how he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

He’s been loving you this whole time.

Your chair scrapes against the floor as you push it back, standing on legs that feel too weak to hold you. His eyes track you, but he doesn’t move.

You reach out, tentative, fingers brushing against his. His hand turns instinctively, catching yours, grounding you.

“I—” Your voice shakes. You swallow, try again. “I love you too.”

For a second, neither of you moves. Just breathe, just exist, tethered by the thin thread of your joined hands.

And then he’s standing too, pulling you into him, arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. You press your face into his chest, feeling the thud of his heart under your palms.

“I didn’t think—” You start, but he cuts you off, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You don’t have to think,” he murmurs. “Just stay.”

And you do.

For the first time, you allow yourself to stay.

XAVIER

You don’t know when it started — falling for Xavier.

Maybe it was gradual, like the slow fade of dusk into night, quiet and inevitable. Or maybe it was instant, the first time he looked at you with those dark, uncertain eyes and gave you one of those half-smiles that always seemed like a secret he didn’t know how to share.

You’re not sure. All you know is that it’s there —deep, rooted, impossible to ignore.

And you tell yourself he could never feel the same.

Because Xavier is… Xavier. Brilliant and quiet and achingly kind in a way that sneaks up on you. He’s the kind of person you could spend a lifetime deciphering and still not uncover all the hidden corners. You adore him — so much that it aches sometimes — but you tuck it all away. Keep it safe and hidden.

You think you're obvious. How could you not be? The way you light up when he walks into a room, the way your gaze always finds him first, the way you linger when you should walk away.

But he never says anything. Never acts like he notices. And part of you believes that’s answer enough.

So you stay quiet. You stay close. You love him the way you might love a painting in a museum— beautiful, unreachable, behind glass you don't dare to touch.

Until tonight.

It’s late. Too late for either of you to still be here, but somehow you are. The halls are empty, the hum of the city outside a distant murmur. You’re sitting in the quiet of the common room, a forgotten file in your lap, pretending to read.

Xavier’s across from you, a book balanced in his hands, though you can tell he hasn’t turned a page in a while.

You’re used to this, the comfortable silence that lives between you. But tonight, it feels… different. Tighter. Like the air is too heavy, like something’s straining to break free.

You chance a glance at him, and find he’s already looking at you.

Your breath catches.

He doesn’t look away. He doesn’t even pretend.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and rough.

“Hey,” you echo, trying to smile, to keep it light.

But something in his expression holds you still. There’s a tension there, a hesitance you’ve never seen before, like he’s standing on the edge of something and doesn’t know if he should jump.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You blink, confused. “Say what?”

He exhales sharply, fingers tightening around the book before he sets it aside with more force than necessary. His hands clench in his lap.

“That I’m in love with you,” he says, almost too fast, like the words have been bottled up for so long that now that they’re out, he can’t stop them. “I — God, I am. I have been for a while. And it’s—”

He cuts himself off, dragging a hand through his hair, a rare crack in his usually calm exterior.

“I kept thinking you must know,” he says, softer now, almost pleading. “That you must’ve figured it out. I thought I was being obvious.”

Your heart is a wild, thrumming thing in your chest. You’re sure he can hear it.

“You…” You struggle to find your voice. “You love me?”

His eyes, dark and raw, find yours again. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I do.”

You sit there, frozen, the words crashing over you, rearranging everything you thought you knew.

Because suddenly, all the little things — the way he always found reasons to be near you, the way his gaze lingered when he thought you weren’t looking, the way he smiled softer, laughed quieter when it was just the two of you— they all come into focus.

He’s been loving you this whole time.

It’s overwhelming. Terrifying. Wonderful.

“I didn’t think…” You shake your head, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “I didn’t think someone like you could ever—”

“Don’t.” His voice is rough, trembling with an emotion he usually keeps so tightly guarded. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you’re not — like you’re not you. I love you. Not because you’re perfect or because I think you’re some idea of something. I love you because you’re you.”

He stands then, almost like he can’t sit still anymore, and paces a short, agitated line in front of you before stopping, turning to face you.

“And I’m scared,” he admits, voice cracking. “I’m scared I screwed this up by not saying it sooner. But I couldn’t — I didn’t want to ruin what we have. I couldn’t stand the idea of you… pulling away.”

You’re standing too before you even realize it, hands trembling at your sides. He’s so close, you can feel the heat of him, the quiet urgency in his breathing.

You reach out, tentative, unsure, and your fingers brush his. His hand turns, catches yours, threads your fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I love you too,” you whisper, the words catching on a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I have for so long.”

For a moment, neither of you moves. And then he’s pulling you into him, arms wrapping around you in a hold that’s fierce and desperate and grounding all at once. You bury your face in his shoulder, breathing him in, feeling the way his heart races under your palms.

He presses his face into your hair, voice muffled but still so achingly tender.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he murmurs. “I should’ve—”

“It’s okay,” you whisper back. “We’re here now.”

And he holds you tighter, like he’s never letting go

RAFAYEL

You love Rafayel the way one might love a sunset — fiercely, hopelessly, knowing you can never hold it in your hands.

It’s not difficult to fall for him. He’s all sharp edges and brilliant color, a storm of laughter and teasing words, but there’s a tenderness beneath it all that you catch glimpses of when he thinks you aren’t looking.

You adore him quietly, carefully.

Maybe a little obviously, though you tell yourself you’re subtle enough. A lingering glance here, a softened laugh there. You memorize the way he runs a hand through his hair when he’s tired, the rare vulnerability that creeps into his voice when he talks about his art, the way he looks at the world — like he’s always halfway in love with it.

And you’re convinced he could never feel the same.

Because he’s Rafayel — bold, brilliant, impossible. And you? You’re just... you. Not the sort of person who catches the attention of someone like him, no matter how many times you catch your breath when he’s near or how much of your heart you’ve already given away without ever meaning to.

You’ve made your peace with it. Or you tell yourself you have.

The gallery is quiet. Closing time passed an hour ago, but you linger, sitting in the center of the main room, the lights dimmed to a low, golden hush.

You’re pretending to be absorbed in one of his latest pieces — a swirling storm of color and shadow that somehow feels alive — when you hear him.

“Still here, Cutie?” His voice is light, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, a tightness you don’t usually hear.

You turn, offering a small smile. “Couldn’t leave without seeing this one again.”

He’s standing a few feet away, hands shoved into his pockets, the lines of his body tense. There’s a furrow between his brows, and his usual easy smirk is nowhere to be found.

“Rafayel?” you ask, soft.

He stares at you, silent, like he’s trying to work something out in his head. Then, before you can blink, he moves — crossing the space between you in a few long strides.

You stand automatically, heart leaping into your throat.

“I’ve tried to be patient,” he says, and his voice— his voice is thick with emotion, almost trembling. “Tried to wait for you to see it. Feel it.”

You blink, confused. “See what?”

He laughs — bitter, low, almost broken. “Us. Me. You. The way I…” He shakes his head, jaw tightening, like the words are fighting him.

“I thought you knew,” he says, softer now, almost defeated. “I thought I was obvious. I’ve never exactly been subtle, have I?”

Your heart is pounding so hard it’s a wonder he can’t hear it.

He steps closer, so close you could reach out and touch him, but you don’t. You’re frozen, waiting for something you can’t even name.

“I’m in love with you.” The words drop into the space between you like stones in a still pond. “And I have been for longer than I care to admit.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

He laughs again, a soft, self-deprecating sound. “I’m not good at hiding things. Every look, every touch, every time I called you ‘darling’ or ‘beloved’ — I wasn’t playing. I meant every word.”

You’re shaking, you realize. Just a little.

“You love me,” you whisper, like you don’t dare believe it.

He huffs, frustrated. “Yes. Yes.” His hand lifts, almost touches your cheek, but falls back to his side. “And I’m terrified. Because you’ve spent all this time looking at me like I’m the stars and you’re just a passerby. Like you couldn’t possibly be allowed to reach out and touch. And I…” His voice cracks. “I would let you burn me alive if it meant you’d look at me the way I look at you.”

It hits you all at once.

The teasing that was always just a little softer with you. The way his eyes lingered when you thought he was being flippant. The gentleness threaded through every sharp-edged word he ever gave you.

He’s been loving you all along.

And you were too blind, too scared to see it.

Tears blur your vision, but you don’t move to hide them. You just step forward, closing the last bit of space between you, and reach for him.

Rafayel’s breath stutters as you lay your hand over his heart, feeling it hammer wildly under your palm.

“I love you too,” you whisper. “I just never thought you could—”

His hand snaps up, catching yours, holding it against his chest like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You are the only thing,” he says, fierce and trembling, “that has ever made me believe in forever.”

You laugh, watery and shaking, and he leans down, forehead pressing against yours, the air between you shivering with everything you’ve never said.

“I love you,” he murmurs again, like a vow. “And I’m not going to let you doubt it ever again.”

You nod, closing your eyes, feeling the weight of it, the overwhelming, beautiful truth of it.

You’re his. He’s yours. And this time, there’s no mistaking it.

SYLUS

Loving Sylus isn’t hard. He’s magnetic, all sharp smiles and easy arrogance, the kind of man who walks into a room and changes the gravity of it. He teases you mercilessly, throws smirks like careless sparks, and you catch each one like it’s precious.

You adore him — quietly, carefully.

Sometimes you wonder if it’s obvious, if he notices how you fold under his grin, how your heart stumbles whenever he leans in too close or calls you darling in that low, amused voice. But then he’ll laugh and turn away, leaving you to chase the echo of it alone.

You tell yourself it’s fine. That he couldn’t possibly feel the same. Sylus is effortless and sure in a way you could never hope to match.

You think you’re being subtle — that he doesn’t see.

You’re wrong.

It happens one evening when you least expect it.

You’re at Elysium, the lights dimmed low, most of the operatives long gone. You’re sitting on one of the lounge sofas, thumbing through reports you can’t bring yourself to focus on, when Sylus drops down beside you with the kind of fluid grace he wears like second skin.

“Burning the midnight oil, sweetie?” he drawls, voice low and teasing.

You glance at him, trying to keep it casual, even though your heart is already picking up speed. “Someone has to.”

He leans back, arms spread across the back of the sofa, fingertips just barely brushing your shoulder.

You pretend not to notice. He pretends not to notice you pretending.

“You know,” he says, voice a touch softer, “for someone who works so hard, you sure are bad at hiding things.”

You blink, startled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sylus tilts his head, studying you with that maddeningly amused expression. “It means you’re not as good at pretending as you think you are.”

Your stomach twists painfully. He knows. God, how long has he known?

You look away, cheeks burning, about to make some excuse — some terrible, awkward excuse — when his hand brushes yours, deliberate this time, and stills you.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, and there’s something in his voice now — something heavier, less playful.

You do, because how could you not?

He’s closer than you realized, eyes darker than usual, no trace of a smirk in sight.

“I’ve been waiting,” Sylus says, low and steady. “Waiting for you to figure it out. Thought maybe you’d catch on after the fifth time I found an excuse to be wherever you were. Or the tenth time I called you darling and looked at you like you hung the stars yourself.”

Your breath stutters.

He gives a soft, humorless laugh. “But you’re stubborn. And worse, you don’t believe you’re worth being loved by someone like me.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he’s already leaning in, voice dropping even lower, even rougher.

“So let’s make it simple,” he murmurs. “I’m in love with you.”

The world tilts. Your heart seizes.

“You—” You can’t seem to find your voice. “You’re just teasing—”

“Not this time.” His hand finds yours again, warm and steady. “This time, I’m dead serious.”

You search his face, desperate, disbelieving — and find no hint of his usual mischief there. Just something raw and terrifying and real.

He squeezes your hand, grounding you.

“I love you,” Sylus says, slower this time, deliberate. “I love the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. I love the way you challenge me without even realizing it. I love how you make me want things I didn’t think I could have.”

You’re shaking, and he must feel it, because his thumb brushes soothingly over your knuckles.

“Say something,” he says, voice softer now. “Please.”

You swallow, hard, and it still feels impossible — like if you speak, the moment will shatter.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

And just like that, the tension breaks.

Sylus exhales — a breathless, almost disbelieving sound — and then he’s pulling you toward him, not roughly, but with the kind of certainty that makes your knees weak. His hand cradles the back of your head, his forehead resting against yours.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs, but there’s no bite in it — just a kind of aching tenderness.

You laugh, a watery, broken thing, and feel him smile against your skin.

“You really love me?” you whisper, still fragile with disbelief.

He leans back just enough to look at you properly, eyes bright and unbearably fond.

“More than I know what to do with,” he says, smiling — not the usual smirk, but something real, something yours.

And when he kisses you — slow, careful, devastating — it feels like coming home

CALEB

It was never a question, not really. Falling for him was as easy as breathing. Caleb, with his boyish smile and the sunlight in his laugh, the way he could find beauty in the ugliest moments and make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you were part of that beauty, too.

Sometimes you think it must show, that surely he must feel the way you unravel every time he leans too close, the way your heart trips when he looks at you and the whole world blurs at the edges.

But he never says anything. He stays the same— teasing, bright, devastatingly kind — and you stay tucked in your corner of impossible wishes, convinced he could never love you back.

Because Caleb is Caleb — light and easy and good. And you’re just someone who loves him too much to risk ruining what little you have.

You tell yourself it’s enough. It has to be.

And then, one night, it all falls apart.

The apartment is quiet, the rest of the world hushed and far away. You’re curled up on one of the old sofas, a book forgotten in your lap, your mind somewhere else entirely.

You don’t even hear him until he’s standing right in front of you.

You blink up at him, startled, and your heart stumbles at the sight of him — disheveled, restless, not the usual carefree Caleb you know. There’s something raw about him tonight, something stripped down and aching.

He looks at you like he’s been holding his breath for a very long time.

“Caleb?” you whisper.

For a second, he just stares at you. And then —then — he drops to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping the edge of the sofa like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold onto something.

Your whole body stills.

“I can’t do it anymore,” he says, voice low and wrecked. “I can’t keep pretending.”

You can’t breathe. “Pretending what?”

“That I don’t love you.”

The world tilts, and you’re sure he can hear the way your heartbeat fractures under your ribs.

“I’ve tried,” he continues, and now his voice is shaking, his hands trembling where they grip the couch. “I’ve tried so damn hard to be patient. To stay close without wanting too much. I told myself it was enough just to be near you.”

He laughs, a hollow, broken sound. “But it’s not. It’s not enough, and it never was.”

Your hands are fists in your lap, nails biting into your palms to keep yourself from reaching for him, from believing this is real.

“I thought maybe you knew,” he says, softer now, desperate. “I thought maybe you saw it —the way I look at you when you’re not watching, the way I come alive when you’re near. I thought maybe you felt it too.”

You can’t speak. Can’t move.

“I love you,” he says again, fierce, raw. “God, I love you. And it’s killing me not to tell you, not to have you.”

And then, slowly, like he can’t stand not touching you for another second, he reaches out, taking your hands in his, prying them open, cradling them like they’re something fragile and precious.

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” he pleads, voice barely more than a whisper. “Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll walk away. I swear I will.”

You stare at him — at Caleb, your Caleb —kneeling in front of you, holding your hands like they’re lifelines, looking at you like you’re the center of his whole universe.

And suddenly it all crashes into place.

The way his eyes soften when they meet yours. The way he always found a reason to linger, to stay close, to make you laugh just when you needed it most. The way he yearned — oh, how had you never seen it before?

He’s been loving you all along.

You reach for him before you even think about it, your hands trembling as they cup his face, your fingers threading into his hair.

His eyes flutter shut, a shudder wrecking through him.

“I love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I love you so much.”

He exhales, a sound of pure, shattered relief, and then he’s surging forward, pulling you into him, burying his face in your shoulder, arms locked around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You cling to him just as tightly, feeling the way he trembles, the way his breath stutters against your skin.

“I thought I’d lost my chance,” he breathes. “I thought I was too late.”

“Never,” you whisper. “You’re never too late.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and the desperation in his eyes nearly undoes you.

“I’m yours,” he says, voice fierce and trembling. “If you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

You nod, tears spilling over now, and he kisses you like it’s the first time he’s breathed in months — deep and aching and real.

When you finally pull apart, he presses his forehead to yours, still holding you like he doesn’t quite trust the world not to take you away.

“I love you,” he murmurs again, over and over, like a prayer.

And for the first time, you let yourself believe it.

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