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