𓂃₊ ⊹ Sunday x Gn!Reader
╰┈➤ Warnings: None
╰┈➤ Word count: 1055
╰┈➤ A/n: C'MON BBG JUST COME HOME UGH-
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦
“Is it alright now?” Your voice cut through the stillness of the night, soft yet steady as it broke the silence of the shared bedroom.
A quiet hum of confirmation came from Sunday, and you smiled, continuing to gently brush through his soft, sky-blue hair. How often you had dreamed of moments like this when your relationship was confined to the fragile boundaries of friendship. Back then, you had only imagined running your fingers through these silky locks. Now, reality was kinder, offering you the chance to cradle this intimacy, savoring every second.
You worked through his hair with care, ensuring each stroke was gentle enough to avoid tugging or causing him discomfort. For you, brushing Sunday’s hair wasn’t just an act of grooming—it was an act of love. The way his locks slid through your fingers, the way he sat still with such quiet trust, and the way his head wings occasionally twitched under your touch—all of it filled your heart with an indescribable warmth.
Ah, his wings. Those delicate, feathery appendages that framed his head so beautifully. They were part of him, part of the being you adored so deeply. You remembered how hesitant he had been at first to let you near them. Back in the early days of your relationship, when your love was still tentative and new, you’d asked—timidly—if you could touch them. He had politely declined, explaining in his gentle way that they were sensitive, almost sacred to him, and not something he shared lightly.
But now, as time had woven your lives together, you found those barriers softening.
“Still okay?” you asked softly, breaking your own train of thought, making sure you werent diisturbing him. Sunday’s hum returned, and you resumed brushing.
A quiet song slipped past your lips as you hummed Robin’s tune, the melody wrapping around the two of you like a blanket. As the last tangle gave way under your fingers, you set the brush aside. Something emboldened you then—perhaps it was love, or maybe the quiet intimacy of the moment. Either way, the decision came to you like a whisper.
Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to the base of one of his head wings. The reaction was immediate—a soft flinch, the feathered appendage quivering in response. You pulled back slightly, searching his face for any sign of discomfort, but Sunday said nothing, his calm demeanor betraying no protest.
And so, you pressed another kiss there, this time lingering just a little longer. Still no resistance. Encouraged, you began to pepper his wings with light, butterfly kisses, moving from the tips to the bases. Each touch elicited the faintest twitch, the wings fluttering under your affection despite his composed exterior.
They were warm and impossibly soft, more delicate than you’d imagined. The room seemed to fade into the background as you continued, pouring all the love you felt into each kiss. By the time you reached the base of both wings, you noticed Sunday’s hands gripping the edge of his seat, his expression calm but his body giving away his quiet surrender to your touch.
“Sunday,” you whispered softly, brushing a lock of hair from his face as you leaned in close, “I love everything about you—every piece, every part.”
For once, Sunday’s wings didn’t twitch in response. Instead, they folded closer to his head, like a silent embrace, a small yet profound acknowledgment of the bond you shared.
Sunday turned his head slightly, his deep eyes meeting yours with a soft, unreadable expression. His lips parted as though he was about to speak, but instead, he sighed quietly, leaning back into you. The faintest smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as if he was reluctant to show just how much your affection meant to him.
“...You’re relentless, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and soft, tinged with the faintest hint of exasperation. But it lacked any real weight—it was more a gentle acknowledgment than a complaint.
You chuckled, your fingers once again finding their way to his hair, running through the strands with practiced ease. “Not relentless,” you replied teasingly. “Just in love.”
Sunday let out a soft laugh—so quiet, it was almost a breath. His wings, now relaxed against his head, twitched slightly as if they were reacting to his unspoken emotions. He wasn’t one for grand displays, but moments like these, where he allowed himself to be vulnerable and open with you, spoke volumes.
You leaned closer, resting your chin on his shoulder, your arms loosely wrapping around him from behind. The warmth radiating from him was soothing, and you could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, calm and steady.
“Your wings… they’re so beautiful, you know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with sincerity. “Every time they move, it’s like they’re speaking for you when you won’t.”
He tilted his head slightly, his expression softening further. “They’re a part of me,” he said after a moment. “A part I thought I’d always keep to myself. But... with you, I feel like I don’t have to.”
The admission hung in the air between you, fragile yet profound. You tightened your embrace just slightly, pressing your forehead against the side of his. “Thank you,” you murmured, your words carrying the weight of everything you couldn’t say aloud.
He turned his head, his nose brushing against your temple. “I should be thanking you,” he replied quietly, his voice steady but full of warmth. “For being patient. For... understanding.”
The silence that followed was comfortable, filled only by the sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of his wings as they shifted slightly. You could have stayed like that forever, basking in the quiet intimacy that defined your bond.
Finally, Sunday broke the silence. “You’re going to keep kissing them every chance you get, aren’t you?” he asked, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
You grinned against his shoulder. “Absolutely. You’ll just have to get used to it.”
He laughed again, his wings giving a playful flick in response. “You’re impossible,” he said, though there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone.
“And you love me for it,” you countered, pressing a quick kiss to his temple.
Sunday sighed in mock defeat, leaning back into you once more. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I do.”
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦
╰┈➤ A/n: Guys I'm stellar jadeless idk what to do anymore-
