Sunday Fluff - Blog Posts

unfinished. lazy. cringe. I’m just gonna drop this here and run as fast as I can.

your gaze often drifts to sunday’s hands.

you can make out the shape despite the gloves he refuses to take off among others. his fingers are slender, long. his hands are definitely bigger in size compared to yours. he doesn’t shy away from having a touch of his surroundings. you wonder if he does it on purpose. just to tease you, perhaps, but that likely is not the case.

even if it were, you wouldn’t be surprised. as the weeks pass, sunday gets to know more and more of you, eagerly. he is the first to chuckle at a remark you make, the first to understand what you couldn’t explain properly, the first to acknowledge and easily accept your choices.

sunday, who supports and cherishes you so much because you were always good to him. never judging him for being new at the most basic things, showing him never ending patience, guiding him through the galaxy. sunday started to get used to this new life thanks to you.

you learn a lot from each other, you realize. sunday knows much about being a leader, though he refuses to show it anymore. you still are happy to ask for his guidance as he is better than you at making plans. he fears making the slightest mistake, refusing to take the lead. he isn’t sure if he’d want to make desicions for others ever again.

still, you ask about his thoughts on various occasions because he doesn’t tend to see things as everyone else does. having to know different perspectives help a lot, you say. nevertheless, it always makes him feel like less of a burden.

“could you fill in here,” he inquires, putting his notebook in front of you and handing you his pen. “about your opinion on our latest mission.” he points at the empty space below his own writing. his letters are curvy and nice to look at. the question hangs in the air as you freeze in the spot. his hand is way too close to you, causing alarms to blare off in your head.

he calls out your name after a few seconds of you refusing to blink. your attention snaps back to him, as you beg to aeons that your cheeks are not red. “you want me to write on your diary?” you ask, surprised.

he is unimpressed, it shows on his face. eyes narrowed, mouth crooked down. getting to see something different from the blank expression he usually makes is refreshing. and so up-close, that is. you’d die to kiss him at least once your life. “not a diary, I wouldn’t carry it everywhere with me if it were.” he answers simply.

you turn your head to the not-diary in front of you. he’s still handing out the pen. you reach your hand out to take it, and of course your hands brush against each other. your breath hitches before you can shut your mouth. and no, you don’t look up to see his face. either seeing him weirded out or not affected at all would hurt you. you instead turn your attention to writing your review. you put the pen down on the table once you are done, not risking it again.

why you are so affected, a curious thought. you recall the first time you saw him play. you are sure your heart skipped a beat, many beats, actually. he was so focused and passionate that he didn’t try and control his body movements as his fingers slid across the keyboard, fast. what a view he was making. the melody was rich, full of emotions. later that day, you realized you hadn’t seen the face he was making while playing as you were too focused on his hands. next time, you think.

hi! fyi i have ZERO idea what i’m doing. wanted a friend to read this and all she said was “not bad.” so i guess here we go!

'___' means the event happened in the past

“___” means right now

if you mind the grammar mistakes and such please keep on scrolling. this may not be for you.

ocd (or ocpd) coded sunday warning!! sorry if this is somehow offensive.

the thought keeps replaying in your mind, with him in your arms, fully asleep. your senses are filled with his scent, his softness. you squeeze him a little more, your heart aches with love. he feels too soft, you wonder how it’s possible for someone to be tender in every part of his body.

one thing about sunday... is that he smells like heaven.

perhaps, he’s not human, but angel.

he doesn’t like getting called that, you note, ‘angels are saints, something I lost my chance to be.’ he usually insists, still, it’s hard not to compare him to one. not only due to his appearance. sure, his wings and halo are of help but... there’s more to it. you take a deep breath, the smell of clean clothes, clean sheats, and honey? must be the shampoo he uses, take the shape of your lungs. somehow you feel like you now breathe easier.

at some point in your life, the term 'fresh' started to remind you of him. you notice his dedication for hygiene, which is good, you love a clean man. then you get to know, it might be something to worry about.

‘dirt, filth, grime... just imagining makes me uneasy. it disturbs me so much... to the point it becomes all I can think of until I get rid of it.’ he informs you, folding the shirt perfectly symmetrical. your gaze snap back to the one in your hand, not as trim, also wrinkly (did he somehow iron his? how did you not see it? is there even iron around here?) you feel slightly ashamed. ‘i need everything tidied.’ he continues, in order, he doesn’t say aloud, yet you hear it.

ever since he admitted so, you become aware of your surroundings, of how sparkly and new they seem to be. everything smells like flowers, with a hint of cleaning supplies. not a single bug would want to live here, you think, relief comes after.

you watch as he slumbers, moonlight illuminating his beautiful face, unable to get enough of him. suddenly, he wakes, eyes fluttering, he opens them slowly, lazily, directly making eye contact with you. they widen, not expecting to see you awake, you smile. he considers shortly, trying to find his voice. you wait patiently, you always do.

“couldn’t sleep?” he asks in a hushed voice. “hm... maybe it wasn’t a good idea to eat dessert before bed.” you answer. you both did, actually. knowing his sweet tooth now, you constantly try out new recipes, desperate to return his care and devotion.

because you know why he woke up so suddenly. he does every night, multiple times, to make sure you are still there, all well, he tucks you in again if you kicked the blanket off in your sleep. ‘I would hate it if you got sick’, he simply explains if you catch him in middle of action. ‘you’d hate the germs,’ you joke, though you know he only cares about your condition. sometimes he frowns at your ungratefulness, sometimes ignoring it completely. he never gives a response, he’s aware you are messing with him, that you know his intentions.

“are you sure that’s the case?” he inquires, he can see through you, with or without the blessing of harmony. odd, you think, you feel at much peace with a man knowing everything there is to about you. you nod, no nightmare could keep you up at night, not with him right next to you.

“would a lullaby help?” there goes your favorite question. you nod eagerly, akin to a kid. he clears his throat, then begins humming a song softly, you recognize it, not sure of the name. exhaustion fills your senses, with your heart full, you drift off to sleep.

what are the love languages of hsr men? — their love languages in a relationship

words of affirmation — verbal expressions of love, appreciation, and encouragement

dan heng, jiaoqiu, mydei, sunday: “know that i love you. you are loved, even if you cannot see it. you are cared for. i love every part of you, traits that you seem perfect or imperfect, your scars, every flaw. i love you.”

quality time — giving another person your undivided attention

jing yuan, dan heng, gepard, sunday: despite both of your busy schedules, you make time to see them. if you can, then you will. you know that they love spending time with you. making new memories as time flows.

physical touch — connection through appropriate physical touch (nonsexual or sexual)

blade, dr. ratio, mydei, phainon: you know that touch is what grounds them. subtle in public and obvious in private. you let them touch your hand, hug you, caress every part of your body. intimate skin to skin contact (sexual or nonsexual) is a must. perhaps begrudgingly in veritas’s case.

acts of service — selfless, thoughtful acts that make a person’s life easier

jing yuan, gepard: they truly appreciate it that someone in their life is being thoughtful of the situation they’re in. both are incredibly busy and you make their life easier by remembering the things about them. perhaps that’s what made them fall in love with you more.

receiving gifts — tangible tokens of love and thoughtfulness

jiaoqiu, phainon: oh they adore gifts, even little trinkets that remind you of them when you saw what you gave them. they found it adorable that you thought of them when you are buying or preparing this gift. they will always treasure what you give them. it’s the thought that counts, always.

of course, they try to do all love languages when it comes to you. after all, you are their lover. they treasure you the most. your happiness is their happiness.

divider by @saradika-graphics

© elixara

Live reaction of me reading this:

Just For You

Modern AU, Pâtissier Sunday notices his favorite customer looking a little worse for wear. He has a special delicacy just for you. And you’re a little too smooth in return.

Sunday/Gender-neutral reader.

(This might be an ongoing AU of one-shots; in which Sunday left his position to pursue other ways of providing joy through his creativity. This is fluffy and silly. In no way really connected to canon.)

On AO3 here. Kudos, reblogs, and comments appreciated!

Divider by cafekitsune

You came into his shop one day with stiff shoulders and a clenched jaw, the tension barely perceptible to the customers in line before you. How unfortunate.

Most of your visits were full of wide eyes searching for his latest creations, a smile forming when you found your target for the week, always determined to try something new. Little did you know that it was because of your adventurous nature that he tried to keep rotations of exciting flavor combinations.

What could possibly have such stress radiating off of you in palpable waves?

He would have to remedy that somehow, Sunday mused as he weighed a box of tiny chocolate mousse cups. Thankfully, today was a bit slow. He would have time to dedicate to you.

By the time you reached the counter, your jaw seemed a little looser when you greeted him, at least. A small victory.

“What would you like this week? I tried my hand at a few fun little creatures.”

The Trailblazer recently recounted their excitement on the Herta Space Station and the cat debacle that occurred. He’d felt compelled to attempt tiny cake pops in the shape of the cat cakes described. They were a little unorthodox texture-wise but seemed to do quite well with some children.

Up close, he could see the dark circles peeking through despite your attempts to cover them. You couldn’t seem to keep eye contact, either; in fact, when you attempted a smile, your eyes looked a little glassy, as if…

He remembered those days. Where the cup you held kept overflowing despite trying your best to empty it. One more ask and your cup might just shatter.

No, he wouldn’t have that. He didn’t leave the Family and set out making desserts that made people smile only for tears to spill in his shop. He might not have been able to solve every problem or take away the unjust suffering of existence, Sunday knew well by now. But he could provide a moment of solace, unique and magical…

Sunday gave you a soft smile in return. He tried to keep his wings from fluttering as he thought about the box he set aside in the fridge that morning, just for you. Perfect.

“I know just the thing. Wait here.”

“No, Sunday, I’ll just—“

He turned on his heel before he reached the swinging door. “I must insist. In fact, it would make my day to share this secret with my favorite customer.”

The words spilled out before he could stop them and he turned, stepping into the kitchen just as heat began to creep up your neck. Suddenly, the chilled kitchen felt a little too warm for his liking; a glance at the thermostat as he passed told him it was functional.

Goodness. Acting like a schoolboy.

The chastisement did little to stop his heart from hammering when he opened the fridge and checked the box, finding it perfectly undisturbed. Your favorite type of chocolate, mixed with rose water and a type of berry he’s never worked with before. Entirely new, a prototype to be refined.

Before he left the kitchen, Sunday stopped at the small station set up for boxing and wrapping. He grabbed a ribbon that reminded him of your eyes and made quick work of a bow, perfectly centered.

He returned to the front of the shop and presented the small box from the tips of his fingers. An inhale snagged in his lungs as your fingers brushed his when you took the box. You cradled it close, lips parted in a question.

“How much do I owe you?” you asked.

Nothing, he wanted to say. Your smile and your enthusiasm was always payment enough.

But whatever feelings he held wouldn’t cover overhead.

“My only ask is that you share your thoughts and tell me what would make the next batch better,” he replied.

He swallowed when he saw your eyes glint, the corners of your mouth twitching as the shadow of whatever held you down seemed to peel away. That was better. You looked a little more like yourself.

That creeping flush over your skin came back as you said, “It’s a date, then.”

Sunday’s composure remained intact until the door to the shop closed, the bell jingling happily. Reflectively, his wings folded inwards to cover his cheeks, his face growing warmer still.

He was going to have to come up with something extra special for your next visit.

⭒ 𝑺𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑨𝒀

gn reader. sfw. slow mornings with sunday. i like the idea that is quite clingy / dazed when he first wakes up. petnames used; my dear, my angel. penacony sunday. ₊ 𓂃 masterlist

it was a rare occurrence for you to wake up as SUNDAY still remained next to you in bed. normally, the head of the oak family would've long started his day before you, having to leave quite early to make a start on preparations and his ever growing schedule.

but today seems to be an exception to that as you roll over onto your side, surprised to feel his familiar body heat still sinking into the space next to you. it urges you push yourself up to rest on your forearm, squinting down at him in wonder if he's a drowsy hallucination or a dream as you press your palms into your eyes.

your sudden movement seems to rouse sunday next to you as he grumbles to himself, still finding waking up to be as much a struggle as he always has- even considering how often he has to.

you found his habits in the morning to be quite charming, in the rare moments you got to see them that is. uncharacteristically to what people may expect, the oak family head did not immediately wake up ready to take on his day; with his polite tone of voice and immaculate, tidy appearance.

in fact, sunday didn't wake well at all,

quite the opposite actually as he rests on his pillow now, gazing up at you as you stare back down at him and he offers you no more than a bleary blink before his eyes are closing again and he's trying to tug you back into him.

he sighs when you dont budge much- willing himself to speak despite the way you can tell he'd rather not, "is something the matter? but do tell me it is not time to get up yet, my dear." sunday's voice sounds gravely and low, matching his still drowsy exterior, although comforting enough for you to wind up wriggling yourself closer anyway.

its a movement that he seems to be quite pleased to welcome, holding you into him as your fingertips press beneath the fabric of his night robe, feeling him shudder as they dance along his bare skin.

he was quite the picture of sin in his morning state actually; the darker blue robe he favours as nightwear seeming to drape itself messily from one of his shoulders, revealing the smooth plains of his bare chest and collarbones beneath as the gold embroidery still makes him seem akin to royalty. his usual perfect hairstyle is more of a mused bedhead now and his face is puffy and flushed from sleep still.

he almost looks dazed as he blinks at you slowly, clouded gaze and parted lips, it takes everything in you not to giggle at sunday's adorable state.

"nothings wrong. just surprised to still see you is all." you say softly as you lean in to press a quick kiss against the tip of his nose and it makes him scrunch it ticklishly. he follows the movement with a sigh before his eyes are closing again and he nuzzles into his pillow,

"hm? yes well, rest is important after all. so we mustn’t let the opportunity go to waste." sunday's way of speaking is slow and drawn out, like drowsy-drunken sentences that sound barely strung together.

although you find the opportunity to see him like this quite amusing, you can't help but want to enjoy it a little longer. especially given how irregularly this happens, he can't really blame you.. you're sure he'd feel the same if he were to see himself right now.

but then again, maybe not.

you remain staring at sunday as he rests opposite you, his brows furrowed as he melts into his pillow and breathing softly as you squint at him through the still dimly lit room.

"you know im pretty hungry actually." you speak again, just above a mere whisper and even though he stays silent for the most part, you know he's awake when his fingers squeeze at your waist.

"has talking in your sleep always been a quality of yours, my angel? i'm afraid i don't remember having much.. experience with it, is all." sunday responds flatly, almost sarcastic in his drowsy state and it makes you snort for a moment before you compose yourself again.

you opt to wriggle yourself into his chest a little more as you push yourself to accompany him on his pillow, sinking into the plush cushion and your lover welcomes you despite being half asleep. he hugs you close to him, similar to how one might hold a plushie before he nuzzles his face into you.

your lashes flutter as you find yourself quite comfortable, fingertips keeping themselves busy as they trace the outline of sunday's pecs beneath his robe. although every featherlight touch seems to make him twitch, followed by a soft sort of sound that he's most likely unaware of in his dreamlike state.

you sigh as he hugs you and you feel his arms around you tighten, a wordless sort of welfare check. "i mean it is around time for breakfast, you know." you hum, curiously and he seems to mirror the sound unknowingly.

"ah yes.. breakfast." sunday's sentence seems to trail off at the end, you're not sure if he's even fully asleep or fully awake right now. if you ever had any bad news to break to him or a favour to ask, you're sure this would be a preferred state to do it— he'd most likely give you whatever you wanted.. although unknowingly.

you manage to free yourself just enough to pull back and look at him again, admiring the features on his face as he rests beside you; from the curl of his lashes to the way his silver hair frames his pale skin.

it makes you hum, appreciatively and you feel sunday's hands squeeze at your waist, like he knows you're staring.

"it would be nice to eat together for once." you whisper into the space where you both take a breath and you watch his brows twitch before he moves closer by an inch, putting you almost nose to nose.

"mm, yes. and I shall see to it..." sunday grumbles, "in due time that is." before ultimately rolling onto his back— making sure to pull you with him as you end up pressing into the crook of his neck, half resting on top of his chest as his arm squeezes you into him tightly.

his voice seems quieter now, like he's back on the brink of sleep, "you seem to quite comfortable, after all. a moments rest longer shan't bare too many consequences, should we allow it." his fingers seem to take an almost convincing stance, smoothing their way along your skin in sleep-inducing circles.

although you can't deny that the new position and the close sound of sunday's soft breathing seems to be making your eyelids feel suddenly heavy themselves. its almost hard not too find yourself nuzzling into him, far too comfortable in your own suddenly drowsy state again.

"okay, maybe in a moment then.." your voice sounds, half-conscious as your lashes rest closed with your next blink and despite how tired your lover seems to be, if you were to look at him now you'd see the way he seems to be smiling.

sunday leans over to press his lips against your hairline as his breathing seems to sync with yours, shushing you lightly—

"shh~ now, my angel, we mustn't let this opportunity go amiss."