Will Be Making A Very Long Self Indulgent Sunday Fic, Wish Me Luck

will be making a very long self indulgent sunday fic, wish me luck 🤸🤸🤸🤸

new layout wohoooo pfp and fanart on pinned credits to @.renjianshilian0 on twt go follow them they have amazing art ‼️‼️‼️

let me cook

Sunday who wakes you up by fluttering his wings on your face, chuckling softly when you scrunch up your nose because it tickles.

Sunday who takes photos of you while you sleep, and shows them to you proudly. You can comment all you want about the drool and the hair wildly splayed on your face, but Sunday finds it endearing. He has a specific album comprising of your photos.

Sunday who leaves behind little notes with neat handwriting on surfaces for you to find as you get through your routine. He's not happy that he has to leave so much more earlier in the morning, so to make up for it he pens down little neat notes for you to keep. He's delightfully surprised when you tell him you have them in your drawer, stored safely.

Sunday who, when he sees you in public, has to hold back from kissing your forehead, from lovingly fixing your hair and clearing loose stands of hair from your face. He stays satisfied with handholding, at least.

Sunday, who when finally back in your arms, relaxes into you, burying his face at the junction of your neck. At your insistence, he's become more comfortable being the little spoon, and you won't admit how much you enjoy the extent of his clinginess he's trying to hold back.

Sunday, who, on the rare occasion gets to see you get ready, watches you mesmerized through your reflection in the mirror as you get ready, immediately at your beck and call when you ask for help, lovingly reaching down at you, eyes still fixed onto you as you continue.

Sunday, who comforts you after a particularly long or tiring day. He doesn't say anything unless you're starting a conversation. He rubs your shoulder, your face half buried in his. His wings gently lay on your eyes to soothe you. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, gently tucking you into bed.

Sunday, who loves hearing the sound of your laughter in the kitchen early morning – tired from sleep but excited to talk to him. He looks at you curiously when you hug him from behind, a sweet laugh leaving him at your little antics.

forever. — ft. aventurine

— warnings: slight spoilers to the current trailblaze mission.

— author's note: in celebration of (almost) aventurine day have this short drabble i made in school inspired by the song forever by noah kahan. also happy 100 followers <3

aventurine was afraid of many things, one of them was “finality.” there's too much uncertainty and boredom affiliated with it. ever since he joined the IPC his life has been everything but boring. everyday he travels from one world to another making high stake deals that could cost him more than he expects, but he still pursued those stakes because who was he if not the ever cocky and lucky peacock of the stonehearts.

but recently, he's come to understand that “finality” — forever per your terms — wasn’t so bad. because to you, forever meant the countless possibilities that the world could throw at you unexpectedly. the limitless joys that can be found in every corner of the galaxy just sitting there waiting to be found.

aventurine wonders if he's one of those many joys you've witnessed; because you were certainly one of his.

how could he ever forget that one fine evening in one of his travels when he just happen to be stuck in a storm and coincidentally bumped into you, looking so breathtakingly out of this world. the many tours you took him on the day after, the shopping trips in the local and fancy markets of the planet in the weeks to come, and not to forget when you laid yourself bare to him under the promises of the many stars that hung from the sky.

“i wouldn't mind staying here forever,” aventurine wonders what that would be like, to settle down in this humble little world with you by his side. “but there's still so much i haven't seen yet — so many things you haven't seen yet. so the next time we bump into each other, let's get drunk at the tavern again.”

forever was once a burden to aventurine, but under that night sky his initial idea of forever took a turn because it wasn't a sentence to death; it was a gift he received from you.

“you're going to meet someone special in the middle of july,” his younger peared at him curiously. “they're going to show you one of the many joys the galaxy has to offer. you'll tell them that they're broke but still have so much richness in their heart.” he chuckles fondly when your face flashed in his mind, the times of when you slung a drunken arm over his shoulder and gave him another drink. “even after seeing every broken bone in your body they'll just laugh it off and say that it'll heal with them around.”

kakavasha smiled at the fondness on his older self’s face. the same purple eyes with rings of cyan stared at him when he kneeled down and patted his head. “and on the night of the final day on july, in a drunken haze, you'll say “my grip on you might loosen - you're not meant to be caged in one place - but i won't ever let you go.”

“why won't you let go of them?” kakavasha asked with a tilt of his head. aventurine only smiled and ruffled the younger boy's hair, “because they made the confident claim that we wouldn't be alone for the rest of our live with them by our side.”

aventurine used to believe that forever meant being sentenced to death, but forever also meant for as long as possible. he wouldn't mind being sentenced to forever as long as it was with you.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

— broken toys. ft sunday

— warnings: slight angst

— author's note: my entry to the sunday brainrot, aka me manifesting for playable sunday.

sunday was the most desired man in all of penacony, and for a good reason too.

head of the oak family; the most handsome bachelor on the planet; a preacher of harmony that wanted the best for his home; what was there to not like about him? you were no stranger to the way he stared at gatherings hosted by the family, his gaze lingered too much on you; happened too many times to count as a mere coincidence. it sent your heart into a blazing beat, one that made your cheeks flush whenever he stood anywhere near you. just hearing his voice – the awkward laugh that rang like wedding bells when mr. gopher wood joked about the two of you being a match made in heaven – it became your favorite thing in the world.

the idea of marrying sunday has always been on the table ever since you were children. one playdate after the other – most of which were spent on the beach – where you, sunday, and his darling little sister robin would create sandcastles for miles. role playing as the kingdom’s regency while robin sang you songs until she fell asleep. such fond memories manifested itself to a lightcone that now sat in your bedroom. mr. wood was not blind with the way sunday looked at you – neither were you – and ever since then, he’d consistently bug you to marry his adoptive son who hid behind his wings to save his face.

and so you did. you married the man of your dreams and relished in being loved like a saint. 

every waking hour with sunday was spent with him worshiping the very ground you set foot on. slipping his hand under the table in meetings to fit yours because you were his rock, making sure he never strayed too far from you because to him, being away from you was the deadliest sin of them all. he loved you like the sun; burning brightly and warming your coldest days with only a whisper of sweet nothings in your ear as you let his touch scorch your skin in a way that made you wince but love him all the same. basking in the way his lips carved his name in your own with such passion you would close your eyes to everything else - he was the only view you would ever look at.

sunday burned brightly, but he burnt too quickly. just like how the sun could never stay in the sky forever, his revelry in you also faded like the waking night when the moon and stars started to replace him. sunday became too consumed in his goals of harmony, so much so that he lost his way that not even you, his darling, couldn’t save him from. 

even if his hands still gravitated towards yours, they no longer had the same warmth that you savored in his presence. he confessed his deadliest sins – the sin of being away from you – every night under the night sky’s judgment, only to commit them again the following morning. 

such was the cycle of sunday’s habit when he obtained his favorite toy. 

he drowned himself in the great pleasures of finally having his hands on the toy he’s been pining over for years. indulging himself in the adoration he had for you even if sometimes, it flickered with something more sinister, something much darker than the adoration he bathed and convinced you in. you let him suffocate in this false devotion until he started to pull back in boredom. until his favorite toy - you - was no longer his favorite.

you would pull away, starting to realize how this was not right, only for him to come sweep you of your feet – the same awkward laughter that once rang like wedding bells now sounded like red sirens, warning you of the danger you’d always ignore – and your falling back into the same maze that was your husband.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.