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SYNOPSIS: Penacony is riddled with rumours about infighting within The Family, resulting in Penaconians and tourists to question the stability of the Dreamscape and whether the Five Great Lineages are actually βharmoniousβ. As a solution, the Dreammaster assigns youβThird to the Iris Family Headβto marry Sunday, the revered Head of the Oak Family. A symbolic pair meant to embody harmony within The Family and refute hearsay.
Beneath the spectacle, however, lies unresolved affection, quiet hesitation, and the painful question of whether your βperfectβ marriage is merely performanceβor something real.
CONTENT WARNING: arranged marriage, halovian!reader, actress!reader, reader is referred to as miss & mrs, loosely follows canon lore, fluff, angst, SLOW BURN, one sided pining but eventually turns to mutual pining, requited unrequited love, childhood friends, forbidden lovers if you squint, petname (my love), OCs mentioned, plot with p*rn, smut (mdni), virgin!sunday, masturbation (m), body worship if you squint, guided fingering, virginity loss (m), p in v, creampie, sunday cums a lot lol, not beta read.
WORD COUNT: 22,994
NOTES: this is prob the most slowburn fic iβve ever written >< sunday fic for my birthmonth hehe enjoy!! div: diviniyae
Moment of Morning Dew
The chandeliers of Dewlight Pavilion glimmered like suspended constellations, their fractured light spilling across polished marble in soft gold and pale violet. Even in the Dreamscapeβwhere beauty was manufactured to perfectionβthis place still carried a certain weight; a stillness that pressed gently against oneβs lungs. Amidst the grandeur of the Pavilion, you stood a step behind Maeven Ellisβs absenceβyour adoptive motherβher authority as Iris Family Head lingered in your posture in the way attendants lowered their gaze as you passed.
Third to the Head of the Iris Family, yet today, you felt oddly like a child again; waiting in a suffocating office as you were summoned by the Dreammaster himself, you werenβt aware of the reason why he had called upon your name but judging from your senses, you werenβt going to like it.
Across the room, not far off from where you stood, was Sunday, he was situated beneath a stained glass window, its colours painted him in shifting hues of amber, indigo and rose where it bounced off his gleaming halo, depicting him as some kind of reverend being. When you had entered the Dreammasterβs office, you were greeted by the Oak Family Headβa mere formality, a simple nod of his head. No words, no nothing.
It had been a while since youβve last stood in his presence like this, most of the time youβd see him around Penacony or during grand Family banquets but that was about it, nothing more than a hollow distance between the two of you.
Minutes of deafening silence passed before the doors to the office opened once again and in came Mr. Gopher Wood, it wasnβt his original form, merely someone elseβs bodyβpresumably someone from the Oak Familyβhe had possessed.
βCome closer.β He had instructed before taking a seat behind the wooden desk, his tone was calm yet it held unparalleled authorityβas a child, it would always send chills down your spine; countless Family gatherings where he spoke to your mother in such a tone. The Dreammaster was a kind man yet something about him unsettled you.
Without another word, you stepped forward just short of his desk, heels echoing faintly against the marble floors. Sunday mirrored your actions, standing a few centimetres away from youβit was enough to get a whiff of his scent.
Vanilla and musk, something sweet yet pierced oneβs senses. You tried to ignore the way his shoulder almost brushed your own and how his figure towered you.
βIβm sure youβre both well aware of rumours that are circulating around the Dreamscape,β Mr. Gopher Wood began, hands folded neatly atop the desk.
You sucked in a small breath, youβd heard them too. Whispers that drifted through velvet corridors, murmured between the cracks of reality that there was in-fighting between The Family lineages which ultimately questioned the Dreamscapeβs stability. For a space designed to eliminate unfavourable factors, it wasnβt hard for negativity such as baseless rumours to start circulating within its walls.
Dangerous words which challenged The Family.
But . . as for summoning you and Sunday, you were clueless. Why did the Dreammaster specifically choose you? You werenβt skeptic about Sunday as he held authority over the Oak Family, in other words, he was Mr. Gopher Woodβs successor but as for you . . it didnβt quite make sense.
Neither of you answered, instead, you both waited for the Dreammaster to speak once more.Β
βRumours are . . fragile things, if they are left unchecked, they fracture trust. And in Penacony, trust is the foundation upon which dreams stand.β
The Dreammaster continued, βThus, we shall give Penacony something stronger than baseless rumoursβa symbol of eternal harmony.β Something inside your stomach tightened, you didnβt like the tone in his sentence, as if it was final and had no room for ifβs or butβs; an idea that was already concrete before it came into existence.
If the previous silence felt suffocating, this one was much, much worse. It felt heavier and pressed onto your skin tighter as though it was determined to live inside your bones. For a moment, all you could hear was the faint hum of the warm chandeliersβeven its glimmering lights felt hot against your skin, a searing burn.
Was the Dreammaster serious? An arranged marriage between you and Sunday? In your eyes, marriage weighed more than a coin being tossed in a bucket, it symbolised unity between two individuals who loved and cherished one another, not a faΓ§ade to combat baseless rumours, and especially not a lie.
A million emotions surged through you; the thought of eternal unity with Sunday was something you had always dreamed of ever since you were a child. The first time you laid eyes upon him was when you were both naΓ―ve and wide-eyed, and something inside your young heart stirred when he laughed at your jokes or tugged at your hands with his, running away from panicked attendants assigned to look after you.
Back then, your adoptive mother would bring you over to the old Oak Family manor for play dates with Sunday and his younger twin sisterβa young trio built on mischief and pure wander. The three of you were inseparable until the day duties and career came into talk, where days filled with innocent laughter turned into monotonous lessons that prepared one for the burden of authority.
Yes, you werenβt going to deny it, you had feelings for Sunday that stemmed a long while back but being married to him under a contract that screamed nothing but business was not what younger you wouldβve wanted, no, she had dreamed of a blossoming, genuine love.
There was also unease for the role entrusted upon you; how would being in a false marriage affect your naΓ―ve heart? You were well aware Sunday didnβt mirror your feelings at all but having him pretend and play the part of a husband was beyond dangerous. It was ironic to think that this marriage was akin to Penaconyβs Dreamscape itselfβa dream becoming a reality.
But . . was it your dream to be married off to Sunday in the name of falsehood?
With the Charmony Festival inching closer, it wasnβt a surprise the Dreammaster was becoming desperate for a solution.
You laughed. A humourless sound that conveyed the disbelief in your heart; you were raised to be a respectful, refined woman especially in the presence of esteemed Elders but not when said Elder proposed such a bizarre idea. This was marriage the Dreammaster was talking about, a life long commitmentβa life long role that was anything but real.
βPardon my brazenness, Mr. Gopher Wood but . . are you serious?β
The Dreammaster didnβt so much as blink, βCompletely.β
At his affirmative reply, you slowly turned your head to the side towards Sunday; he remained expressionless, the glimmer in his citrine eyes hiding more than just pure emotions. His posture remained straight, one hand tucked behind his back just as he had been taught by the Oak Family Elders. Whether the idea affected him or not, Sunday didnβt let on, not even a twitch of his brow nor a rustle of his ivory wings.
βA union between the Oak and Iris Family presented as one of harmonyβof perfection. A model pair for Penaconians to look up to, and once the people see The Familyβs harmony upon supporting this marriage, rumours will fade.β Mr. Gopher Wood continued, which turned your attention back to him.
The Dreammaster had a point, with two significant figures in the five lineages getting married, Penaconians would witness The Family working together to ensure it happens flawlesslyβthe Oak Family would be tasked with organization, the Alfalfa Family with financing, the Bloodhound Family with security, the Iris Family with reception entertainment, and the Nightingale Family with decorations. All in perfect harmony.
βAnd what it needs to see,β You murmured quietly. βIs a lie?β You knew it was only a matter of time before the Dreammaster exhausted his patience and snapped. He had always been fond of you but knew to draw the line at disrespect.
His gaze remained fixated on you, it wasnβt unkind but it was firm, unwilling to back down from the challenge you had presented; he noticed the way your wings rustled imperceptibly, how it curled inwards as if to display silent retaliation.
βThe Dreamscape needs stability.β
That wasnβt the answer you were looking for.
Slowly, you exhaled then fully turned toward Sunday, his golden halo glimmered brighter than ever, βSunβMr. Sunday.β He looked at you, really looked at you, and for a split secondβjust a flickerβyou saw it. Something from years ago when he used to grin at you over ice cream and toys.
βAre you okay with this?β The question came out softer than youβd expected, laced with vulnerability. Sunday held your gaze for a moment longer than necessary, then, parted his lips to speak,Β
βAs Oak Family Head, it is my duty to ensure that everything within the Dreamscape remains in order.β
β. . Thatβs not what I asked.β
Were you surprised, though? Youβve always known Sunday was a selfless individual, especially when it came to Robin but you wishedβmore than anythingβthat heβd be a bit more selfish; to do something that he truly wanted and not because he was bound by duty and expectations.
βThis arrangement fulfills its purpose.β As expected, Sunday spoke like this matter was nothing more than another responsibility to be managed, throwing out the fact that he was to be married off to someone he didnβt love.
You nodded, βRight.β A small, hollow sound. And once more, you were hit with the harsh reality that this Sunday wouldnβt run away the same way he did during the lessons he found boring, no, instead this Sunday would build the cage himself if it meant keeping everything intact and under his control.
Hesitantly, you looked away first, directing your attention back to the Dreammasterβany second longer looking at those citrine eyes was far too dangerous for your heart, βApologies, Mr. Gopher Wood but I need time. This isnβt . . exactly a small decision.β
But did you even have the luxury to make a choice? Nonetheless, Mr. Gopher Wood inclined his head slightly and indulged you in your request, βYou will have what time is necessary but do understand, the longer uncertainty lingers, the more damage rumours may cause.β
A gentle threat wrapped in silk.
You nodded calmly, though your thoughts were nowhere nearly as composed. Marriage. To Sunday. It was as though the stars were playing a nasty elaborate prank on you but as twisted as it was, a part of youβone buried within the depths of your beingβwas happy.
Could you blame yourself though? Youβve pined for Sunday for eons because maybe, just maybe, he would finally look at you the same way youβve looked at him: under the light of romance.
βThen, I shall take my leave. Mr. Gopher Wood. Mr. Sunday.β After necessary formalities, you turned to leave, light from the chandeliers above stretching your meek shadow across the marble floor.
βMaeven Ellisβs daughter.β
You paused. It was the Dreammasterβs voice once again, βYou are an actress, are you not?β
Glancing over your shoulder, you spoke up, βYes.β
βThen think of this as your most important role.β
At his words, your lips pressed into a thin line. That was easier said than done. A performance, of course, everything in Penacony was. You didnβt bother responding, instead, you kept walking, heels echoing with each careful step, out of the Dreammasterβs office and away from Sunday.
Moment of Golden Hour
Despite the name of Golden Hour, sunlight didnβt spill like liquid gold in the Moment but the Dreamscape was as beautiful as ever. After the impromptu meeting with the Dreammaster and Sunday, you found yourself sitting on an iron bench at Aideen Parkβa quiet corner devoid of commotion to collect your thoughts. In the distance, laughter echoed and soft music the band performed.
On your lap rested an important document for an upcoming film, pages and pages of a bound script to read and remember but for once, you didnβt feel like reading. Not when your mind wandered off to the encounter a few system hours back, you couldnβt help but replay Mr. Gopher Woods wordsβthat youβd be married to Sunday.
Amidst the serenity of the Moment, your ears perked up at the sound of familiar footsteps coming closerβcalculated and sharpβbut you didnβt bother looking up.
βI thought you might be here.β
The owner of the calm voice was no other than Sunday, you were more than certain of it because only he had the power to make your heart stutter. You didnβt let onβdidnβt show an ounce of emotion just as youβve been doing for the past years youβve known him. Slowly, you exhaled, gaze still fixed on the inked pages atop your lap.
βThe Oak Family Head seeking an audience with me? What a lucky woman I am.β You chuckled humourlessly. Sunday didnβt reply and you almost felt bad for greeting him with such a sour state, so you spoke up again, β. . Are you surprised? You know my hiding spots better than anyone.β
Growing up, Sunday learned that whenever you had something in mind, you always seemed to seek out quiet spots to unwind and one of them happened to be in Aideen Parkβa tucked little area away from everyone while still able to bask in the Momentβs luxury.
βYou never changed them.β Sunday whispered in a soft tone, if you hadnβt caught it, youβd think he was merely murmuring to himself. There was something in his voice you didnβt quite recognize, one that made you curl your fingers tighter around the pages.
βIs there . . something you need, Oak Family Head?β
As much as he appreciated authority, Sunday never did like it when you addressed him with formality but heβd rather sever his halo than admit it to your face. After all, it was merely a silly thought. He let your question linger in the air for a while, letting the background noise of the park fill the space between the two of you, then, he spoke,
βI came for your answer.β Straight to it. Of course he did.
A quiet, humourless laugh slipped past your lips, you finally turned to look at him. The golden lights of Aideen Park engulfed his pale blue strands, it softened the edges of his otherwise composed expression but it didnβt make him easier to read. You couldnβt lie, Sunday looked absolutely breathtaking and it pained your heart at how effortless it was for him; his citrine gaze shone the same way his halo did, bright and blinding.
βMy answer? Thatβs what this is to you? And here I thought you came to seek me out as aβI donβt know, maybe a friend?β
It was microscopic but you saw the way Sundayβs shoulders sagged and how the wings behind his ears lowered but you werenβt about to be moved by something minute; what the Dreammaster had asked of youβand Sundayβwasnβt something simple, it asked for your soul, to play a never ending role built on lies.
βItβs a matter that requires resolution.β He replied evenly. Your chest tightened, βDo you know what youβre asking of me, Sunday?β The question came out sharper than intended but you didnβt take it back and for the first time, something flickered across his face, maybe it was surprise, maybe it was discomfort, you didnβt bother deciphering.
βI am aware of the implicationsββ βNo.β You cut him, shaking your head as you stood, the script on your lap swiftly falling onto the ground, long forgotten. βNo, youβre aware of the politics of itβthe outcome.β
Frustration rose within your body, a scowl forming on your face as you stepped forward. Sunday had never seen such a look painted on your face, he had only ever seen pleasant expressions from you, especially directed towards him.
βYouβre asking me to stand beside you in front of all of Penacony and smile like it means something. To let them believeββ Your voice caught slightly but pushed through it, ββto let them believe this is real.β
βThatβs the role weβve been assigned.β He said quietly. βAssigned,β You echoed, almost incredulous. βIs that all this is to you? Another duty? Another piece of the Dreamscape you have to keep polished and intact?β
βIf you think I have the luxury to treat it as anything else then you are sorely mistaken.β
βThen, let me ask you one thing, Oak Family Head. Did you have a hand at choosing your . . partner?β With Sunday willing to fulfill such a role, you were certain Mr. Gopher Wood had already told him about the proposal prior to the meeting earlier, and you were sure the latter had at least given him freedom to choose.
Sunday nodded, βYes.β
You let out a shaky breath, your scowl turning into something much softer. Sadness. βBut why? Why me, Sunday? DonβtβDonβt you know how cruel that is? To ask for something that big?β You looked away, unable to see the way regret briefly shadowed his face. His chest tightened at your pitiful form, he didnβt mean to put you in a troubled spot but he wasnβt entirely innocent either.
Marriage meant the two of you were bound to each other for eternity with divorce was absolutely out of the table, especially for prominent figures like you and Sunday; it made sense for a planet that worshipped the Aeon of Harmony.
β. . Because I assumed you wouldnβt be scared doing it with me, at leastβdoing it by my side.β
Oh, your foolish, foolish heart shouldnβt have skipped a beat at his reply but it did and it angered you even more that it did because despite it all, you still loved him. And maybe you were willing to comply but a greater part of you was stubborn.
βDo not try to mold me with flattery, Sunday. What about us, hm? Weβre not symbolsβnot the βmodel pairβ the Dreammaster deems us to be. Weβre people with lives of our own! I cannot dictate for you but I know marriage is something I want to be organic. To fall in love with a man who cherishes and loves me back.β
Words hung heavy in the air, fragile and bare. For a split second, you were convinced he was going to take a step closer and say something that wasnβt measured or wrapped in a silken ribbon called duty. And maybe some twisted part of you wished Sunday would have told you that heβd at least try to love youβto reassure and tell you that your heart has a home in his hands but he didnβt.Β
Instead, he said: βWe are what Penacony needs us to be.β
Silence settled once more, you didnβt answer this time as you were reminded that you and Sunday held very different dreams. You closed your eyes to steady yourself briefly, and when you opened them again, your expression had shifted, something more resigned, β. . Fine.β
Sundayβs ears perked, wings spreading ever so slightly as if to convey shock. You straightened slightly, smoothing the invisible wrinkles from your clothesβa habit youβve picked up before you stepped in front of rolling cameras.
There was no use arguing with Sunday or pushing your ideals to him, he was stubborn and heβd do anything to ensure the stability of the Dreamscape, even if it meant carrying the weight of falsehood his whole life. Besides, arguing like this in public was sure to garner unwanted attention, it was only a matter of time before someone heard of the conversation.
βIf this is the role entrusted to me then Iβll play it. Iβll accept the marriage.β The words felt foreign on your tongueβtoo final but you didnβt waver.Β
Sunday carefully studied you as if to search for something beneath your composure, βAre you certain?β
You laughed humourlessly, βDo you think I have a choice? But if you want me to be honest, no. But Iβll do it anyway.β For you, you wanted to add. You bent down to swiftly pick up your script, dusting it off lightly, and when you returned his gaze, your expression had settled into something practiced.
βDonβt worry, Iβll make it believable.β The corners of your lips tugged upwards despite its heaviness.
βI . . never doubted that. You are one of Penaconyβs greatest actresses.β Sunday intended to lighten the mood, to flatter your skills and forget about the tension in the air but for some reason, his words hurt more than anything else. You put too much faith in me, Sunday. You thought.
Sure, acting came easily to you but not when you had to play the eternal role of a loving wife for a man youβve pined for. For years. It was a twisted game that tested the borders between a dream and reality, and you could only hope to build a cage around your naΓ―ve heart.
Moment of Morning Dew
Wedding preparations commenced shortly after meeting with the Dreammaster once more to confirm your stance on his idea; everything was a blur, from colleagues and close friends congratulating you on your engagement (even Robin who sent a congratulatory letter despite being aware of everything) to exclusive interview appearancesβsometimes accompanied by Sundayβto talk about every detail.
Of course, since the engagement came out of the blue, it was met with a lot of speculation, and rightfully so as not a single soul had seen you and Sunday together outside Family gatherings but even in banquets, neither you nor him would really converse.
But, those speculations were easily dismissed by letting interviewers know that you hid your relationship with him for personal reasons; it wasnβt foreign for celebrities to do such things. Though, the only truth you uttered during those interviews was probably the fact that you loved Sunday.
Silk draped from the ceiling in soft, cascading layers, mirrors framed in gold caged you in, it reflected you in every angle, each one just slightly more flattering than the last. Assistants moved like whispersβadjusting and smoothing but never loud enough to cause unnecessary chaos.
The Dewlight Pavilion served many purposes for The Familyβthe main being a place where Heads discussed important matters but you didnβt expect it to host a fitting room specifically curated for wedding preparations; it only made sense with how busy your schedule was, not to mention how you just finished a table-read two system hours ago which meant the script was still swimming in your mind and so was exhaustion.
βHold still, please.β
A quiet exhale escaped through your nose, resisting the urge to fidget as a pair of hands adjusted the fall of fabric at your waist; you just wanted to go home. βI am still.β You murmured.
βStill-er.β The head assistant replied gently.
Tired, you bit back a comment, there was no point arguing with anyone. It was evening and you wanted this over and done with, the more you cooperated, the faster this whole thing would be finished.
The gown itself was unsurprisingly perfect. Whiteβof courseβbut not the stark kind, it shimmered faintly like it had been spun from light filtered through clouds. Intricate golden embroidery traced along the bodice, delicate and intentional.Β
βThere. All done! How does it feel, miss?β
The head assistantβs dainty voice faded into as you looked at the mirror, it was the first time you stared at your reflection since standing inside this fitting room yet strangely enough, an actress stared right backβthe βyouβ all of Penacony knew, the one in front of flashing lights and rolling cameras.
βYouβre truly beautiful, miss!β Another one of the assistants gasped, her reddened face tucked between the hearts of her palms.
β. . Thank you. The dress feels . . fine, itβs not too heavy.β The staff dismissed the absentmindedness laced in your voice, mistaking it for pure awe. You didnβt know what to feel seeing yourself in a wedding dress because even with an exquisite ring wrapped around your finger, you still couldnβt believe you were getting married.
βTurn slightly, please.β The head assistant instructed and you did. The skirt fanned out like a blooming flower, its silken fabric faintly glimmering beneath the lights.
βPerfect.β She breathed out.
Perfect. The word followed you everywhere these daysβabout your relationship with Sunday, about the engagement ring, and now about the dress. You were about to give her a practised reply, the same one youβve been giving everyone elseβa βthank youβ and a smile that reached your eyesβuntil the atmosphere shifted.
The curtains behind you weren't drawn yet but you knew who was beyond them and you were certain the attendants knew as well from the way their backs straightened, immediately stepping away from the raised platform you stood upon.
βPardon my intrusion, may I step inside?βΒ
Sundayβs voice filled the silence. As if on cue, heat blanketed your cheeks, heart racing at the thought of him seeing you in a wedding dress. Your gaze landed on the head assistant through the reflection, giving her a slight nod to which she immediately understood and swiftly drew the curtains back.
As Sunday stepped inside, both attendants silently bowed their heads and headed out, closing the curtains behind them to give privacy. Alone in a small space with him with too many mirrors; you swallowed thickly and smoothed down the skirt of the dress, βI wasnβt aware of your visit.β You murmured, tucking a loose strand behind your ear.
βI was told preparations were underway. I wanted to ensure there were no complications.βΒ
Of course.
βWell?β You started, head tilted slightly. βYou came all this way, you should at least give your evaluation.β Your hands found its way atop your clothed hip. It was half a joke, half a challenge yet you awaited for his words.
Sunday didnβt reply immediately, instead, his gaze settled on youβsteady and unreadable. You observed how his amber eyes lingered on the bodice of your dress a second or two longer before moving on to the bloomed skirt. Beneath his wandering gaze, something in your chest tightened, cheeks burning deeper, it almost felt like a thousand needles prickling your skin.
β. . It suits you.β He said at last.
You blinked, brows knitting together, βThatβs it?β
βYou expected more?β
βI expected something. Iβm about to be married off to the Oak Family Head and become the half of Penaconyβs model pair, surely that warrants something far better than βit suits youβ.β
βYou always did prefer honest reponses.β That caught you off guard. Sunday wasnβt one to reminisce about the pastβat least not with youβbut he has done it twice now, once back at Aideen Park and once today.
You didnβt reply nor did you acknowledge how his gaze softened slightly, βWell, if you want honesty then . . you look exquisite and the dress harmonizes with your beauty perfectly,β The end of his sentence ended awkwardly, as if he wanted to speak more but ultimately decided to hold back.
You were well aware there was no romance behind his compliment, it was merely an honest, straightforward one but you couldnβt help suck in a breath. You looked away, clearing your throat lightly, once again smoothing a none existent crease on the dress, βThatβs the goal, isnβt it? To make me look presentable for the big day.β
Sunday hummed absentmindedly causing you to risk a glance at him once more, his eyes were still on you but this time he wasnβt assessing, he was admiring.
βHow is it then? Convincing enough for you, Mr. Sunday?β
His gaze finally drew upwards βtil it met your own, a strange glint flickered in his honeyed eyes, β. . Too convincing.β
Whatever that meant
Before you could respond, the head assistant spoke just beyond the drawn curtains, effectively breaking the . . moment between you and Sunday. Akin to a deer caught in headlights, you slightly stepped away from the latter; funnily enough, there was already a great distance between the two of you but somehow you just felt like distancing yourself further.
βMiss, we need to finalize the veil fitting.β
You cleared your throat, trying to burn down Sundayβs weighted stare, βOf course.β
β. . I should take my leave then.β His gaze lingered on your face but you didnβt dare meet it. With that, he let out a soft sigh, turning around to part the curtains and leave but before he could even take one step, you called out his name, tone laced with . . desperation?
βS-Sunday . . ?β You werenβt sure why you did it or what possessed you to even utter his name yet somehow, you felt it was necessary to do so; though, you didnβt know what to say because now, Sunday looked over his shoulderβcitrine gaze, full of hidden curiosity, just above his ivory wingβwaiting for what was to come next.
βIβll see you later, okay?β What did that even mean? Why did you say that? You were certain Sunday was just as confused about your reply as you were but he didnβt seem to let on, in fact, without so much of a hitch, he tilted his head, gave a little smileβone that had you biting the inside of your cheekβand replied, βOf course.β
Then, without another word, he gave both attendants a nod of acknowledgement before heading for the door.
Moment of Blue Hour
After two strenuous weeks of running around the Dreamscapeβwhether it be for work or for wedding preparationsβthe big day finally came, and in all honesty, you werenβt sure what to feel. The morning felt like a huge blur, attendants rushed in and out of the bridal suite to tend to you, and several loved ones visited in between, it served as a gentle reminder that you werenβt entirely alone. At least not today.
The first to check on you was Robin, she had peeked into your suite with a warm smile on her face, though, it didnβt quite reach her eyes. You didnβt blame her, she knew of the situation and you assumed she also didnβt know how to feel for youβhappiness seemed too cruel but sadness would also dampen the unsteady mood that lingered within the atmosphere.
The least she could leave you with was encouragement and a few good words about her brother: βI know you know my older brother well enough so I wonβt say much but . . he will never hurt you. You and I both know he wants the best for everyone, and that includes you.β
The next two who visited were Ms. Maeven Ellis and Siobhan who stayed a little longer with you, especially the latterβout of the three, Lady Siobhan was probably the only one who understood your emotions the most as she, too, was pressured with countless expectations within the Iris Family as the second to the Head.
Being an adoptive older sister, she always looked out for you, most of them during young days where Ms. Maeven Ellis would push you to take acting classes. Though, despite the formerβs efforts of letting you choose your own path, you did eventually end up in the artistic industry just like everyone else in the Iris Family.
The Eventide was as romantic as ever, docked in the Sea of Dreams where its tranquil waters lulled guests with awe. Warm lights illuminated the expansive boat, it bathed everything in a gentle gleam of gold; its cathedral-like structure effortlessly blended reverence and spectacle, a quiet yet bold message that The Family did not hold back on this grand event.Β
Rows upon rows of guests filled the hall, a sea of fine silk and polished smilesβthough, however warm they may be, all you could feel were the weight of their stares, a sense of anticipation that settled over your shoulders, it seemed to be heavier than the gown you wore.
The cameras also didnβt help, the subtle click of the shutter every second or so, they hovered discreetly and blended within the crowd but you knew they were there, capturing every movement and emotion etched into your face.
And as you stood at the altar facing Sunday, your hands resting atop his bigger ones, you trembled slightlyβa barely noticeable crack on the surface of the glass. He must have noticed because within the next second, his hands squeezed your own, a gentle action to ground you, to serve as a reminder that only you and him mattered in this momentβnot the officiant, not the guests, just you and him. A soft, shaky breath escaped your crimson-stained lips, you mirrored Sundayβs action. A small thank you.
The officiantβs voice carried smoothly through the air, unwavering as he spoke of harmony and unity, of two individuals converging into one for the sake of something greater; you heard his words but they felt far away, almost muffled and dream-like. Your focus drifted over to the feeling of Sundayβs hands in yours, to the warmth of it, to the quiet reminder that despite everything, this moment was real
Well, at least parts of it were but you wanted to believe that softness in Sundayβs gaze as he watched you walk down the aisle earlier was genuineβthat it wasnβt a mask he prepared and wore for this ceremony but youβd be lying to yourself. To you, Sunday was the hardest book to decipher, the more you read in between lines and paragraphs, the more youβd doubt your thoughts.
β. . And by the authority vested in me, I now pronounce youββ
Your breath caught and the room seemed to still.
ββHusband and wife.β The officiant paused for a split second, letting the words linger in the air and manifest into existence. Then, he continued,
βYou may now kiss the bride.β
As his words echoed in your mind, your gaze slowly lifted to Sundayβs and for a moment, you both hesitated. He was the first to move, his head inclined towards youβeyes fluttering shutβslowly leaning in, his hands rested on either side of your waist; the quiet hum of the Dreamscape faded into the background as the space between your faces narrowed with each long second.
This was a part of the performance, you both knew that but it wasnβt something that was rehearsed, and even though you were an actress yourselfβwhere kissing co-actors came naturallyβthis felt entirely different.
You closed your eyes, heart stuttering, the traitorous beast banging against the cold bars of your chest; for a second, you wondered if Sunday could hear it but upon noticing the unreadable expression on his face, you assumed he was focused on how to approach the kiss everyone anticipatedβthe subtle pause in his breath was enough to tell you it wasnβt easy for him either.
And just as Sunday was about to seal the kiss, he gracefully lifted a wing to obscure the view, leaving everyone unaware of the small distance between you and him; it was deliberate yet to everyone else, the veil of feathers seemed natural given the way your faces were angled slightly. The perfect illusion of an elegant kiss.
βForgive me, I do not wish to make you uncomfortable in front of everyone. This . . should suffice, we do not have to go all the way.β Sunday whispered dangerously close, your knees almost buckled at the feel of his hot breath ghosting over your lips.
Your hands, which rested atop his clothed chest, curled slightly, nails digging into the hearts of your palms, βRight . .β You whispered back.
You told yourself it didnβt matter, that Sunday only thought of respecting your boundariesβas a matter of fact, you should even be grateful that he didnβt force you and yet something in your chest dipped in disappointment. Albeit small and quiet, it was significant enough to feel it within your ribcage, the low murmur of your heart.
Of course. Sunday would never force something like that and you respected him for it! But . . you couldnβt help think that he simply didnβt want to kiss you. As childish as it sounded, you were convinced.
You bit the insides of your cheeks, lids tightly pressed against your eyes, you didnβt dare take a small peak. Not when his face was barely centimetres away from your own and absolutely not when his intoxicating scent invaded your senses. The wings behind your ears rustled briefly, brushing against Sundayβs.
Slowly, the moment passed; each camera click and quiet gasps from the guests enveloped the enchanting scene at the altar. A few seconds later, his wing loweredβas graceful as everβonce again revealing you both to everyone else, and it was like the entire room breathed out a long sigh.
The guests responded instantly, applause swelled throughout the Eventide, everyone wore a smile on their faces, completely convinced by what theyβd witnessed.
You pulled away first, immediately turning to the crowd with the most genuine smile you could muster, trying to mirror everyone elseβs joyous expression.
Among the guests, you caught Robinβs gaze who sat on the front row pewβshe wore a smile like everyone else but her cerulean eyes gleamed with apology; you assumed she felt partly responsible for her brotherβs decision regarding the marriage but you never blamed her, if there was anyone to blame it would be the Dreammaster but youβd never dare utter it into existence. After all, you were just pawns in his Dreamscape.
Funnily enough, as the person who decided you and Sunday to be married, he didnβt attend today, youβve heard whispers within the Dewlight Pavilion that the Dreammaster wasnβt feeling too well these days, not that you cared about the man. You may have grew up with him around but that doesn't mean youβve warmed up to him; he still carried the same unsettling aura he had when you were a kid.
After the long awaited ceremony, everyone settled into the reception where an abundance of congratulatory greetings and hugs were given to you and Sunday; most of them came from close co-actors who youβve worked with on previous films, they also took the time to converse with him and didnβt hold back with such questions.
βOkay, this might be a bit silly to ask but who fell in love first?β Cassianβa co-actor youβve grown close withβasked with pure curiosity, his hazelnut gaze darted between the two of you, he nursed a half empty glass of SoulGlad, swishing the golden liquid within as he stood before the table you and Sunday sat on.
You briefly looked over to Sunday who already had his eyes on you. βI did,β You started, setting your gaze back to Cassian and pairing it with a small smile.
βThis is actually the first time Iβm admitting this but . . Iβve had a crush on him ever since we were kids so Iβm assuming it was me who fell in love firstβI mean, who wouldnβt, right? He was kind and caring, and from then on, my young heart knew who it wanted.β
With every word that rolled from your tongue, heat that blanketed your cheeks intensified. Obviously, everything you stated was the truth but saying it aloud in front of him was rather embarrassing even if he didnβt have a clue how real it was.
A confession veiled as a lie.
You could feel Sundayβs honeyed gaze boring into the side of your face but you kept your eyes on Cassian who animatedly cooed in response, βWell, arenβt you a lucky one, Mr. Sunday!β The brunette inclined his glass towards the two of you as if making a toast.
Sunday chuckled softly in response, uttering a small βIndeed, I am.β You ignored the stutter in your chest.
βDo you guys have a destination for the honeymoon? There are so many worlds to choose from!β
You let out a cough, the heat from your cheeks spreading down the column of your neck and onto your chest where it bloomed, βA-Ah, well! Sunday and I decided that weβll have to push back our honeymoon for a while. With the Charmony Festival approaching in less than a few months, heβd be busy with preparation and as for my schedule, itβs packed with shootsβyou should know.β
Cassian enthusiastically nodded, βThatβs right! Weβve an upcoming film togetherβI canβt believe I forgot! Well, I shouldnβt take up anymore of your time, the two of you should enjoy your first few moments as husband and wife. Haha! Iβll get going then. Oh and Iβll see you on set!β With that, the brunette excused himself and headed for the open bar.
βI wasnβt aware Mr. Cassian is going to play the lead role along with you.β Sunday curiously stated. You shrugged, βI wasnβt aware you were interested in my matters but yes, we will be in a romance film together. Why? Interested in seeing it in the theatres once it comes out, Mr. Sunday?β
He let out a humourless laugh, βI liked your little story earlier. The one you told Mr. Cassian.β
Little story. Well, little did he know how true it all was.
This was supposed to be a happy day but with the amount of times Sunday had unknowingly shattered your naΓ―ve heart into more and more pieces today alone, you werenβt certain how long youβd last in this foolish charade, and you couldnβt blame him at allβnot that you had anyone else to blame but your feelings.
βWhat can I say? Iβve been told Iβm amazing when it comes to improvising.β You didnβt meet his gaze, instead, your eyes scanned around the room, pretending to skim and scan, feigning interest in the uninteresting.
Well, at least the guests looked like they were having more fun than youβthey laughed over clinked glasses and exquisite Penaconian dishes, a genuine expression of joy painted on their alcohol tinted faces.
Sunday left the conversation at that and tended to his own glass, briefly swirling the liquid inside before taking a calculated sip; the golden beverage blanketed his tastebuds, its familiar sweetness putting his mind at ease. He wasnβt certain of the reason but he felt somewhat odd upon hearing your reply, the feeling irked him down to the bone.
Clearly, it was an uncharted territory and Sunday despised places he couldnβt controlβthe unknown and the unpredictable. He hated the thought of not knowing how to unpack his emotions.
But the real question was: Why did he feel this way? and what was the root of it? Maybe it was stress getting to him, he rarely got decent sleep and his daily schedule was always packed. Yeah, definitely stress.
Old Oak Family Manor (Reality)
A few tiring system hours later, you and Sunday were finally surrounded by pure silenceβno prying eyes, no endless questions, just silence. The two of you found yourselves inside the old Oak Family manor, a separate building from the Hotel that stood in Reality but remained just as grand and expansive.
βSo . . youβre the only one who lives here now? What about the Dreammaster?β
The manor stood like a quiet declaration of wealthβjust as youβve always remembered it to beβit gleamed like polished marble kissed by dawn, its towering windows framed with intricate carvings and draped with silken curtains.
Everything felt all too familiar and with every turn of your head, an old, tucked memory resurfaced like a bubble floating upwardsβthe curved staircase you and the twins would sit on to tell ghost stories, the expansive field outside where youβd spend afternoons running around, and . . Sundayβs room where he and Robin would βperformβ concerts .
The very room both of you stood in.
You had spent enough time in the old Oak Family manor to know that his room barely changedβsure, his toys were replaced with endless stacks of books and documents, and his bed no longer housed soft plushes but apart from those, everything was the same.
βEver since I was appointed Head, this manor was entrusted to me. I am not aware of Mr. Gopher Woodβs whereabouts nor do I question it.β
βYou donβt have company?β βI have attendants.β
You let out a snort which earned a raised brow from him, βThatβs different, Sunday. The attendants work here.β The manor used to be so lively, now it felt completely empty and a little cold; you couldnβt help but wonder if Sunday ever felt lonely, especially with a building so vastβwas he haunted by the echoes of his lone footsteps? Did he ever avoid eating in the dining room because heβd be the only one sitting at the long table?
βNevermind, disregard my last question. Though, I do have another one, are you sure youβre comfortable with me sleeping here? I mean, there are tons of other rooms in this manor.β Naturally, since you were now married to Sunday, it only made sense to reside together in the Oak Family manor, however, you didnβt expect to actually share a room with him.
βYouβre my wife, are you not? If anything, itβd only rouse suspicions from attendants about us sleeping in different rooms,β
He had a point.
Β βAnd just because our marriage stands on falsehoods does not mean I wonβt uphold my role as your husband. Iβm sure youβre aware Iβm not that kind of man.β Sunday continued. Again, he was right, he certainly wasnβt the type of person to slack off just because he was out of the spotlight and you didnβt know whether that was a blessing or a curse.
βI suggest you wash up first, it has been a long day, after all, and your clothes are in the closet.β Oh, thatβs right, you almost forgot about your belongings, thanks to the help of the Bloodhound Family, all of them were transported to the manor safe and sound; you assumed the attendants must have unpacked it all for you.
You absentmindedly nodded, trying to process the fact that you were now bound not only to Sunday but the manor as well for the rest of your lifeβthat you would come home every single night and sleep beside him.
A foreign feeling washed over your body, the feeling that would grow from the depths of your core in response to a drastic change in your life. It wasnβt unsettling nor uncomfortable per se but it was extremely hard to ignore.
Bathing beneath the warm water took a lot longer than youβd intended, the feel of it against your bare skin soothed you so much that it almost felt like someone had wrapped you in a cozy hug, one that youβve been deprived of these days.
Now, sitting on your side of the bedβthe left sideβin your silken nightie, you carefully combed your freshly dried hair, a thousand thoughts coursing through your mind and none of them were coherent.
Sure, what you were wearing was designed entirely for sleeping but Xipe above! You felt absolutely exposed; the way its flimsy straps slid down your shoulders every other minute didnβt help at all.
Even the way Sundayβs honeyed eyes widened when you walked out of the bathroom clearly meant he was taken aback by the brazenness of your attireβor the lack of it. But could you really blame yourself? Prior to tonight, you lived alone and that meant you could wear whatever you wanted to bed with no one to judge.
Setting the comb on the night stand beside you, you quickly tucked yourself beneath the ivory duvet upon hearing the shower turn off; if you hid yourself inside the bed, it would make you feel less exposed to Sunday, you pulled on the duvet βtil it covered all the way up to the base of your neck.
Yeah, this seemed about right.
He stepped out of the bathroom, clad in a pair of matching pyjamas, hair and wings damp, it took him only about three steps before he stopped in his tracks, gaze fixated on you.
βIs the temperature too cold for your liking . . ?β Sunday stood there dumbfounded at the silly sight before himβyou, on the bed with just your head and neck sticking out from under the duvet.
βNo, itβs perfectly fine. Why do you ask?β You shook your head, blinking up at him. He replied with a small sigh, βIf this is about your . . attire then rest assured I do not mind but if you feel uncomfortable, I can offer you a top to wear over.β He immediately looked away, feigning a cough.
His reply may have been nonchalant but you caught how the tips of his ears flushed a deep pink hue; obviously he, too, was as embarrassed as you were, only he was better at hiding it.
Once again, you shook your head, βI donβt want to bother you with such trivial matters. Besides, Iβll be going to sleep soon.β
Sunday wordlessly nodded before turning off the lights and proceeding to walk towards the shared bedβtowards you.
As darkness filled the entire room in an instant, you swallowed thickly, trying to calm your poor, poor heart as his footsteps echoed closer than the last; you closed your eyes as he lifted the duvetβa breeze of cool air momentarily enveloping your bare skinβhe slipped inside and the mattress dipped beneath his weight, it made you realise just how small of a space there was between your bodies.
Not enough to have your bare arm brushing against his clothed one but enough to feel warmth that radiated from him.
βPardon me but would you have trouble sleeping if I turned on a lamp?β Sunday whispered into the darkness.
βI donβt mind but are you not going to sleep? Itβs well past midnight.β You opened your eyes and inclined your head, facing him.
βIβll be writing for a bit as sleep has not yet caught up to me.β The bedside lamp turned on with a soft click which immediately illuminated his half of the bed, casting a warm gentle glow on his softened features. You replied with a wordless nod before turning your back to him and letting the faint sound of pen and paper sully you into endless clouds of dreams.
A couple of pages and half a system hour later, Sunday finally looked up from the inked pages of his book. Curious, he glanced over at your sleeping form which remained with your back towards him, he watched the rhythmic rise and fall with every shallow breath.
Compared to earlier, more of your torso peeked from beneath the duvet, he noticed how the flimsy strap of your nightie had fallen from your shoulder and took the initiativeβafter whispering an apology for his brazen behaviourβto lean over and fix it.
Sunday let out a sigh, he pulled the shared duvet upwards to cover your shoulder before returning to his side of the bed.
For some reason, he couldnβt help but feel that you held disdain for himβand honestly? Rightfully so because truthfully speaking, he had foolishly roped you into an eternal duty without your consent, without considering how you would feel about the entire idea. It wasnβt like him to involve others in such serious matters, and if given the opportunity to shoulder the problem alone, he wouldβve done so in a heartbeat.
Sunday gazed down at his book once more, catching a glimpse of glimmering gold wrapped around a digit of his left handβhis wedding band, it shone quietly beneath the warm glow of the lamp. He brought his hand up to examine the piece of jewellery, honeyed gaze following each curve of the intricate pattern engraved on it. Despite its small size, it sat heavy on his finger and whether it was the weight of burden or something more, he had no idea.
Funnily enough, never in a million years did he think heβd be married before Robin; sure, he was the older twin but relationships and marriage rarely crossed his mind, and as embarrassing as it was, flirting definitely wasnβt for him either.
Moment of Morning Dew
βSo what youβre suggesting is a date?β
βIndeed.β
βWow, I didnβt know you were quite the romantic, Oak Family Head.β
βTo be frank, it wasnβt my idea. It was merely suggested to me and I think itβd be appropriate to make occasional appearances in public as husband and wife.β
Well, there goes romance out of the window. So it was tied to duty after all, and here you were thinking Sunday acted out of his own will for once but if there was anyone to blame the feeling of slight disappointment, it would be none other than you and your naΓ―ve heart.
It had only been a little over a month after the marriage yet youβve already been met with disappointments and you hated yourself for feeling that way because it wasnβt even Sundayβs faultβhe was only upholding his role but you? You had mistaken his actions for reality.
The chaste forehead kisses whenever he visited you on set paired with a humble bouquet of flowers, the endearments he called you in front of your co-actors, holding your handβall these were initiated by him and every single time, like a fool, you had mistaken it for something sincere.
How ironic that between the two of you, Sunday would be the better actor. Youβve paid him a visit countless times in Dewlight Pavilion when you werenβt needed on setβbrought him food, offered him a shoulder massage whenever he seemed visibly stressed, and even tried convincing him to take a breather but you were rigid and hesitant.
Today just happened to be one of those days where you visited him. As usual, you were as stiff as a board and your words barely held any sincerity in them, as if you merely read off a script.Β
And maybe thatβs why he took the initiative to lead because he had sensed your hesitancy regarding everything.
βWhere are we headed?β You raised a brow, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.
Sunday gathered every document on his table and stacked them neatly in a pile before placing it to the side, βAideen Park. I heard there was a small event happening there and I thought we could pay a visit.β
Moment of Golden Hour
Aideen Park was livelier than normal, people lined up for several reasonsβfood trucks, photobooths, and even a mini ferris wheel ride. Naturally, the band which usually performed at the heart of the Park gained quite a crowd as well, they played an upbeat melody to fit the joyous atmosphere. Several booths and signage within the vicinity was enough to deduce that this public event was run by SoulGlad with their iconic logo plastered everywhere.
βHm? Did SoulGlad release a new flavour?β You fell into a step beside Sunday, eyes fixated on a stall where a staff happily gave away freebies and judging by the unfamiliar packaging of SoulGlad in his hand, it had to be a new flavour.
He nodded, jutting out his right arm which you wordlessly held on to, βIndeed, SoulGlad has released a new flavour called Charmony to honour the Charmony Festival. I figured Iβd acquire several bottles for Robin.β
You hummed at his reply. It was nice knowing he still thought about his sister even in her absence, at heart, Sunday was truly just an older brother taking care of his family and it warmed your heart more than anything.
Youβve always wondered how he felt when Robin left Penacony; from what you could remember, it was a crucial turning point in their lives as well as yoursβher music career was taking off, Sunday was training to be Bronze Melodia, and you had just secured your first lead role.
βHave you had the chance to try the new flavour?β You asked, shaking the thoughts away.
At your question, he shook his head, βI have heard from several people that it has its own unique twist to it. Now, I know we have personal security around but itβs best to stay close to me with this many people present.β
With his free arm, he adjusted your hand on his clothed bicep, allowing you to hold him better. βItβs not like Iβm going to run away.β You murmured, ignoring the blanket of heat settling on your cheeks.
There had already been a few instances where you had held Sunday by his bicep like this or his hand but youβve never gotten used to the feeling of his body pressed closely against your own.
Even through the fabric of his blazer, merely touching him seared your skin like a thousand flamesβit felt like it was forbidden to do so yet at the same time, you couldnβt quite pull away even if you wanted to.
Sunday led the two of you to a food truck lined with customers and on the way there, you were both excitedly greeted by many event goers and passerbys, with some even coming up to you for autographs and photos.
You only managed to get through three autographs and two photos before Sunday came up behind you, a chivalrous hand hovering on the small of your back as he gently ushered you away, a wing curled around the back of your head, βWe should get going before people start shoving one another to get signatures and such.β
Nodding, you smiled apologetically before bidding them good bye, βIt was nice seeing you all! I hope everyone enjoys this SoulGlad event!β
βPardon my intrusion but I noticed you were getting quite flustered so I took matters into my own hands.β Sunday apologised, not realising his handβwhich rested on your lower backβhad protectively snaked around your waist, it pulled you closer to him, effectively turning your legs into jello. If it wasnβt for his hold, you wouldβve already kissed the grounds of Aideen Park.
Oh god, you hoped he hadnβt noticed how your torso shook with a small shudder. You feigned a cough, βT-Thatβs quite okay, Sunday. Thank you. What did you want to ordββ
βMr and Mrs Sunday! How lovely to see Penaconyβs harmonious couple in our humble event!β One of the SoulGlad staff at the food truck rushed over to the back of the line where you and Sunday stood, effectively gaining attention from customers in the queue. They turned around and whispered amongst themselves, not-so-subtly pointing at you both.
Sunday greeted the Pepeshi staff with a smile, βAh, hello. Thank you for having us.βΒ
βAre you two seeking to order? I can take it in advance so the two of you wonβt have to wait!β He excitedly spoke, the fluff ball atop his head vigorously swinging back and forth.
In unison, you and Sunday both shook your heads, declining his kind offer, βWe shanβt. She and I are here as humble customers, we donβt mind waiting a little while. It would be unfair for those who are before us.β
βNo such thing! Mr. Sunday and Mrs are our esteemed guests! You know what? Iβll go ahead and get two servings of our best sellerβClockie Pizza!β Before the two of you could humbly decline once more, the Pepeshi had already taken off towards the food truck, excitement budding with every step he took.
Within a few minutes, he came running back with two servings of Clockie Pizza on a paper plate, steam which radiated from the slices indicated it was freshly taken from the oven.
βHere you are! Two slices for our very special customers, enjoy!β Both of you thanked the Pepeshi staff as he handed the plate over to Sunday, he gave the two of you another excited smile before skipping off towards the food truck. You and Sunday could only exchange lopsided smiles, not really knowing what to make out of the situation; as much as you felt bad, you were pretty hungry so you were absolutely more than thankful.
After eating, the two of you found yourselves in one of the photobooths (Embarrassingly, Sunday had noticed you were staring intently at them while you were eating and asked if you wanted to go). Naturally, the booth had limited space inside which meant you two had to squeeze yourselves on the benchβarms and legs flushed against one another.
You tried not to think about how your wing momentarily brushed his own, his ivory feathers tickling yours; Haloviansβ wings were a sensitive area and one couldnβt just reach out and have a feel of it, many Halovians treat their wings as the most important part of their body and consider it an intimate gesture if they willingly let someone touch it.
βHow does one operate this?β He drew the crimson curtain on his left side to close off the booth before turning to you with a hint of confusion on his face. At his question, youΒ mirrored his expression, brows drawn together, βHave you not tried one before?βNevermind. We simply press this button on the screen to get started and once it starts, the camera takes three pictures so we have to think of different poses for each frame.β
βAnd oh, itβs timed so efficiency is needed.β
βSeems quite pressuring, no?β Sunday humourlessly laughed. This was his first time trying out a photobooth machine and the thought of coming up with three different poses in a span of mere seconds . . He couldnβt even think of one off the top of his head.
βOh? Is the Oak Family Head intimidated by a photobooth? Well, if you ever feel stuck, you can go ahead and copy my poses. Ready?β You glanced over at him who only nodded in response, honeyed pupils gleaming beneath the harsh lights of the booth.
Without another word, you leaned over andΒ pressed the button in the middle before quickly getting into a poseβthe classic smile with a peace sign.
On the other hand, Sunday blinked as he watched numbers on the screen count down. 3. Ah, what pose should he do? 2. Maybe just a smile? Would that be too formal? 1. He quickly looked over to you to imitate your pose but before he could even get his hand in position, the camera brightly flashed indicating that the first photo had been taken.
βQuick! Finish off the other half of this heart!β
As the screen began counting down once more, Sunday hesitantly mirrored your gesture with his left hand. Four fingers curl like so . . and how does the thumb go? Ah, straight down at an angle. Then, place it against her hand. While he mused over how to complete the hand heart, the camera flashed once again. Another photo taken, another frame where he wasnβt ready. Why are photobooths so hard?
βWhy donβt we just do a smile?βΒ
Finally, something he could get behind. The two of you instinctively squeezed closer, inclining your heads towards one another with smiles on your face, then, the camera flashed. Sunday let out a soft sigh, itβs as if weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
A small laugh escaped your lips as the two of you exited the booth, βNot bad for your first photobooth experience, huh?β You didnβt notice how heated your skin had become βtil the air outside pressed against you like an icy envelope.
βYou are teasing.β Sunday stared at you with a deadpan expression which only pulled another laugh.
The small machine whirred to life, producing two copies of the strip, you took them both and handed one over to him, βThis one is yours, Mr. Oak Family Head.β
You took the time to examine each frame and couldnβt help but crack a smile at how clueless he looked in the first two photos; the first one was him blankly glancing over at you while on the second one, he wore a confused expression while glancing down at his half of the hand heart.
As for the third photo, you didnβt want to look at it for too long. Not because it was hideous or any of that sortβquite the oppositeβbut because both of you looked like an actual happy couple, a pair who loved one another. You swallowed thickly.
βWhere shall we head next? Up for a ferris wheel ride?β Tucking the photo strip inside the pocket of your jacket, you looked up at Sunday with a calculated smile on your face. His gaze lingered on you for a second longer as if to search for something but nonetheless, he nodded.
The ferris wheel carriage was quite small, meaning either you and Sunday would have to squeeze togetherβagainβon one side of the carriage or sit on opposite sides; obviously, both of you opted for the latter, which despite facing one another, at least gave you room to breathe.
You avoided fully facing him by slightly angling yourself sideways to gaze beyond the carriage; the ride wasnβt as grand as the one in Clock Studios Theme ParkΒ but it was able to reveal a great area of Golden Hour once at the top.
Below, Penaconians went on about their day as usualβwhether it be shopping, working or simply taking a leisurely stroll in the Moment, you watched as they led their own lives, wondering what it felt like to be a normal Penaconian.
But what did normal mean for you, exactly? You wished you had the answer.
Sunday knew it was rude to stare but he simply couldnβt bring himself to stop either. Earlier, when you were examining the photo strip, he had noticed the solemn expression on your face; how the corners of your lips sunk ever so slightly and the faint gleam of sadness in your eyes.
A wave of regret hit him once more, the same way it had done for the past monthβhard. And now as he watched you observe the Dreamscape below, he couldnβt help but feel responsible for your sadness. There had been many instances where he had caught you with a somber expression but he never dared address it, though now seemed like a great opportunity.
βAre you quite alright?β
Turning your head to him, you drew your brows together, βOf course. Why wouldnβt I be?β
Sunday pressed his lips in a thin line, βYou . . can always talk to me. As a friend.β
You chuckled, adjusting your body so you could face him fully, βIs the Oak Family Head missing his Bronze Melodia days?β
Deflectingβthatβs what you were doing, a habit he never once liked from you but as concerned as he was, he didnβt press any further. Doing so would most likely only worsen whatever you housed inside your chest, and he didnβt want to be the cause of that. Maybe some day youβd finally open up to him about all your worries and feelings but for now, heβd wait even if it meant waiting for eons.
Moment of Sol
βAh, Mr. Sunday! Lovely to see you here once again. As you can see, weβre about to start filming so itβs best to keep quiet. Other than that, feel free to watch.β The directorβwho he had come to know as Thaddeusβgleefully whispered before heading to his seat. The former wasnβt old, most likely in his early forties but he did don several silvery strands on his head along with a full beard.
Sunday made his way over to a quiet corner behind all the film crew with a decent view of the scene unfolding before him. The set was a large bedroom dimmed to convey a sultry atmosphere, in the middle sat a large bed draped in crimson sheets where you and Cassian were positioned. Judging by this, he could easily deduce that the scene you were filming was rather intimateβit was a romance film after all.
During the previous times he had visited you, the scenes he witnessed were more . . family friendly. Scenes where Celestineβthe character you playedβmerely caught up with her friends in a coffee shop and all of that sort; there was one that Sunday particularly took a liking to, where you and Cassian argued back and forthβan intense quarrel between two lovers.
It reminded him how much of an amazing actress you were, he didnβt want to admit it but that scene moved him enough to make his eyes water, he could only imagine what it would look like on the big screen. But this scene was entirely different, Sunday had never seen you act intimately before and heβd be lying if he said he wasnβt curious.
βQuiet on set! Pictures up! Roll sound! Roll camera! Marker . . and action!β
Clap!
The slateβs sound echoed throughout the entire set and Sunday watched as you and Cassian instantly got into character. He sucked in a breath as the two of you slowly inched closer to one another, sealing each otherβs lips in a heated kiss.
Soft, wet sounds filled the room, the kiss deepened and turned into something less innocentΒ and for a brief moment, Sunday forgot he was in a set, and that the scene before him was scripted.
He swallowed thickly, shifting his weight from one foot to another as Cassian roamed his hands all over your body, even going as far as raking his palms along your clothed chest and the area behind your wings. A dainty whimper slipped past your kiss-bitten slips in between breaths, followed by a whisper of his name.Β
Something strange bubbled within Sundayβs chest, he was well aware everything was scripted but seeing another man brazenly touch you with lust and fervour, and hearing you breathe out someone elseβs name did not feel right at all. Was he jealous? No. But he wasnβt entirely fine with this either.Β
Nonetheless, Sunday didnβt have the right to have a say on these matters so he kept quiet and continued watching how Cassian eagerly shoved his tongue past your lips like a hungry beast. He didnβt even realise his jaw had tightened and the tips of his fingers had dug into the hearts of his palms βtil the Thaddeus yelled βCut!β ultimately breaking immersion. The two of you pulled away from one another, breathless and hair mussed.
βCassian, remember to angle your arm slightly or else we wonβt be able to see her faceββΒ
As the director gave him instructions, you managed to spot a familiar face within the small crowd of film crew, his golden halo shone lightly beneath the artificial set lightingβSunday.
Xipe above, you almost forgot he was going to pay you a visit today, not that you didnβt want him to come, itβs just that having him watch an erotic scene with yourself and Cassian felt odd. You were embarrassed, to say the least. As an actress, you took yourself out of comfort zones countless times for different roles and they were no easy feat but who knew youβd be struggling to act in an intimate scene before Sunday?
With a lopsided smile, you shyly waved at him to which he responded with an incline of his head. Whether he had a smile on his face or not, you werenβt sure, you couldnβt see clearly beyond the lighting.
Sunday, in fact, did not have a smile on his face
It was childish and idiotic to sulk over such a minor thing and if he could stop his chest from tightening weirdly, he would have done so already but he couldnβt, and now a subtle frown blanketed his face. He tried to look at the bright sideβhow talented you were at acting and how proud he was that youβve come so far but god he was powerless to his own thoughts.
βAlright, from the top! Sound! Cameras! Marker and . . action!β
Clap!
Again, the entire room snapped into place, including you and Cassian. For the second time, Sunday watched in silence as the two of you passionately made out once more, this time the scene escalated to him pushing you down on the mattress below, lips still locked onto your own, and hands pinned against the pillows.
Even with your eyes closed and even with Cassian smothering you like there was no tomorrow, you could feel the heat of Sundayβs gaze from beyond the cameras and lightsβthe intensity of it. Getting into the zone was second nature to you yet you couldnβt shake off the nagging thought that he was watching you, it felt like you were cheating right in front of his face; Sunday probably didnβt mind at all but still.
This went on for a few more minutes until Thaddeus was satisfied with the outcome and wrapped up the scene, βActors, we need you in a wardrobe change and can we please rearrange lighting on the set for the next scene?β
With that, you stood up from the bed and walked over to Sunday who greeted you with a small smile, βHey, Iβm glad youβre here.β You mirrored his smile before loosely wrapping your arms around his waist. A simple performance in front of everyone. He did the same and placed a chaste kiss on the crown of your head.
βYou did well, my love.β
Your heart stuttered.
βMm, really? Iβm glad you think so.β
βWell, I shanβt take up any more of your time. Mr. Thaddeus did mention a wardrobe change for you, right?β Sunday slightly pulled back, a warm smile on his face as he gazed down at you. Ah, you wished he stayed for a little longer even though embarrassment ate you alive in his presenceΒ but alas, he was a busy man, so you simply nodded,
βIβll see you around?β The corners of your lips curled into a smile.
He hummed, he gave you another chaste kiss, this time on your forehead before completely letting go of you. Oh, god. Was it merely your imagination or was he acting extra . . touchy? You wouldnβt even dream of putting Sunday and touchy in the same sentenceβthey were like two magnets with the same side that repelled one another but his actions proved otherwise. Or maybe you were highly delusional.
Before he could walk away any further, you called out to him, βSunday?β He turned around, an expectant look painted on his face.
βI . .β Love you? Was that what you were going to say? There was no harm in that, right? Right? Come to think of it, neither of you had ever uttered those wordsβwere you about to start now? Technically, the two of you were married and expressing love to one another was normal. God, why were you even overthinkingβ
Whatever.
βI love you.β
Sundayβs wings momentarily rustled, a hint of shock washed over his face, albeit subtle, you caught on. His chest tightened but it wasnβt the same feeling as earlier, it didnβt hurt, instead, it felt like a dainty butterfly fluttering inside his ribcage. He stared at you momentarily, the rush of everyone else around fading into the background, his breaths turned shallow and slightly uneven. Was he sick?
βI . . love you, too.β And without another word, he left.
Fake. Fake. Fake. Fake!
You reminded yourself this marriage was fake and so was his response but your heart believed otherwise because now it pounded against the bars of your ribs, it wanted to leap out and find comfort in the warmth of his palms. Heat spread from your cheeks, along the column of your neck, and all the way down to your chestβit bloomed like a fiery flower, its blazing petals hungry for more.Β
The urge to tell Sunday as soon as possible settled in your heart.
The night before the Charmony Festival, Old Oak Family Manor (Reality)
Unfortunately, with both your schedules tightly packed, you rarely saw Sunday within the past weekβonly some nights during ungodly hours where he carefully slipped next to you in bed but other than that, no words were exchanged, and as much as you wanted to talk to him, exhaustion weighed on your body. And as soon as you were enveloped by the softness of the bed, it immediately lulled you into a deep sweet dream.
Tonight wasnβt any different, you came home to yet another empty houseβsave for the attendantsβwithout Sunday and frankly, you were worried he wasnβt getting the proper rest he needed. You did leave him a couple of messages earlier between your shoots simply asking how he was but he never replied to them, though that wasn't surprising given how close the festival was.
The shared bed felt a lot colder and bigger as you slipped beneath the covers, you turned to face Sundayβs side, stretching out an arm as if to reach for him only to be met with emptiness. A small sigh slipped past your lips, you silently prayed to Xipe that THEY would answer your wishes to see him soon.Β
For now, you closed your eyes and went to sleep.
11 system hours later
Riββng!
βRinβg!
Ring!
At the sound of your phone, you stirred awake in bed, sleep still weighed heavy on your body. Was that your alarm? You didnβt remember setting one last night . . Nonetheless, you slowly opened your eyes and reached for the device atop the wooden nightstand, bringing it to your face. You blinked a few times, doing your best to adjust the blur of your vision to see better.
Mr. Oti Alfalfa
Huh? Why was the Alfalfa Family Head calling you? As if your entire body was doused in icy water, you quickly shot up, fingers raked through your mussed hair as you answered, βH-Hello?β
βAh, it seems youβve finally woken up, Miss.β
βMr. Oti Alfalfa! My sincere apologies, it had been a long night . . May I ask why youβre calling?β You rubbed your temples, looking at the wall clock to check the timeβ11 system hours?! Youβve been asleep for 11 system hours? Just how tired were you last night? Though, with the weight of sleep on you, it did feel like you slept for quite a while, almost like a never ending dream.
βThe Family has cleared your schedule for today, we require your presence at the Dewlight Pavilion right this moment. There are important matters to be discussed.β
At the mention of The Familyβs residence, you looked over to your right. No Sunday, an empty space. Seeing as how they required your presence, that meant they asked for him too, right? He mustβve been at the Pavilion already but why didnβt he wake you up from your sleep?
There were a thousand questions that ran through your mind regarding the whole situation but what could they possibly need to discuss with you? They even cleared your schedule which meant it had to be something very serious, not to mention how you could sense the urgency in old Otiβs tone as he spoke of important matters.Β
It made you somewhat uneasy.
βAlright. I will be there in a few minutes.β
With that, you quickly got dressed and headed for the Dreamscape.
Moment of Morning Dew
The Dewlight Pavilion housed more members of The Family than usual, its entrance had at least six Bloodhound Family security officers guarding the doors, and the inside wasnβt any better. What was going on? Today was the Charmony Festival, right? So why was almost everyone present in the Pavilion? You walked down its long halls, each step taken heavier than the last.
There was a slight tension in the air, you felt it and it made your stomach churn; you noticed how some attendants gazed at you as if you were some kind of criminal.Β
Was . . something wrong? Nonetheless, you ignored them and kept walking βtil you reached the Council Chamber.
Inside, gathered four Family Heads, they gathered at the heart of the chamber, sitting around a vast circular table. Robin was also present but where was Sunday? Shouldnβt he be present as well?Β
β. . May I ask what this is all about?β Your brows furrowed, a small frown forming on your lips; you looked over at Robin who only gave you a solemn expression, even the look on your adoptive motherβs face was hard to explain.
βAre you aware of what has transpired in Penacony?β Oti Alfalfa spoke up.
Slowly, you made your way over to situate yourself next to Robin. βNo . .Β I have been asleep and only woke up from your call. Did something terrible happen in the Dreamscape?β You felt asking that question would do more harm than good but there had to be a clear reason as to why they needed you here.
The atmosphere was unbearable. Every Head, including Robin wore an unreadable expression, itβs as if all of them were in on some kind of secret and no one dared to inform you about it. Sundayβs absence in this meeting made you all the more nervous. All of them shared strange looks with one another before Oti Alfalfa spoke up once again,
β. . The Oak Family Head and the Dreammaster had committed the highest act of treasonβnot only to The Family but to the entirety of Penacony. Sunday usurped the Harmony and revived Ena The Order to use THEIR power to create an eternal dream paradise.β
You didnβt know what to say. Was there even anything appropriate to say?Β
It didnβt feel real at all, you were hoping they were merely playing a sick, elaborate prank on you but the look on their faces proved otherwise. Old Otiβs words reached your ears the same way nightmares didβfragmented, disjointed, and absolutely impossible to process all at once.
Sunday. Treason. Eternal dream paradise.
No. That wasnβt the Sunday you knew, he couldnβt have possibly done something like that, not the man who had spent most of his life looking out for othersβputting their needs before his. It felt contradictory to everything he was. But did it really? Your mind scrambled for reason and context, for some kind of missing piece that would make everything make sense but there was nothing.Β
Among the million of questions, your mind raised another: What exactly had your marriage been for?Β
You stood with him before all of Penacony yet all this time he secretly worked with the Dreammaster to dismantle the very concept you and he were assigned to upholdβHarmony. A deep, aching sorrow settled beneath your ribs.
βRightfully, the former Oak Family Head was imprisoned but it has come to our attention that he had managed to flee from prison, he is now deemed a wanted fugitive. We asked you to join this meeting because we have a few questions regarding your husband.β Flee from prison? How? And who aided him? A part of you was relieved that Sunday managed to flee from The Familyβs wrath but you were also scared of what he might face once they found him.
You knew what was coming next.
Maeven Ellis parted her crimson-stained lips, she still held onto that unreadable expression, βOh, Triple-Faced Soul, please sear her tongue and palms with a hot iron, so that she will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.β
βEveryone in this room is aware regarding the status of your marriage with the former Oak Family Head, orchestrated to refute rumours within the Dreamscape. Were you an accomplice to him and the Dreammaster? Was your marriage merely a disguise to direct Penaconyβs attention from their dark schemes?β
You shook your head, βNo. I was only aware that our marriage was a solution against those rumours.β
Why were they asking you this? Each Family Head had already agreed to the Dreammasterβs proposal of having you and Sunday marry one another, why was Oti Alfalfa acting as if he wasnβt in favour of the proposal?
βDid you have a hand at helping the former Oak Family Head escape?β
Once again, you shook your head, βNo. As I mentioned earlier, I just woke up. I came home from a long shoot last night and went to bed as soon as I could.β
βDid the former Oak Family Head tell you of his schemes?β
You were getting sick of this, twice youβve already told them you werenβt aware of the Dreammaster and Sundayβs plans, why were they so insistent you had a hand at their schemes? Your motherβout of all peopleβknew youβd never get involved with something like that. Sure, you had the third highest ranking in the Iris Family but you were merely an actress and stayed out of The Familyβs business.
βNo.β
Oti Alfalfa nodded, briefly glancing at the golden band around your finger, βThat is all but let me tell you this, once The Family finds out you have made contact without any notice or you are actively helping the former Oak Family Head hide, you will be met with punishment for aiding and abetting. This applies to you as well, Miss Robin.β
He didnβt have to verbally say it yet you knew between those words he spoke, he wanted to remind you that The Family was always watching.
After being dismissed by Old Oti, you headed straight to Golden Hour to clear your headβyou still couldnβt wrap your head around the whole incident. Did he really manage to revive a dead Aeon? The one that Xipe assimilated? The severity of the entire thing was beyond you and there was no easy way to process all this.
Moment of Golden Hour
βYou know, Sunny, wonβt it be better to bid farewell to her instead of staring at her poster like a total creep?βΒ
βThat implies we wonβt see each other again and I do not intend to keep it that way. Even so, I simply cannot bring myself to face her like this even with a disguise. Itβs far too risky, Wonweek. I am a fugitive, after all.β
Amidst the glittering luxuries, billboards, and rush of people in the Moment, Sundayβdisguised as an Intellitronβstood before an expansive poster of you at Oti Mall, his honeyed gaze traced over your features once, twice, thrice as if to engrave them in his mind.
He was aware the poster was merely an advertisement for a skin care brand yet you looked extremely happy in it and he could only wish the same for you now. With the amount of Bloodhound Family security patrolling around, he assumed news had already broken out regarding his escape, and that you were also aware of itβof everything he had done.
The PepeshiβWonweekβwho stood next to him hummed, βOh, really? Not even when sheβs right there crying?"
Sunday immediately turned to his companion, βWhat?β He followed the Pepeshiβs line of sight, it took a few seconds before finally spotting your familiar figureβyou sat on a bench in front of Clock Diner, arms crossed over your chest, seemingly staring into nothing. Even though you wore a hat and sunglasses, Sunday could still tell it was you.
βW-Well, maybe not crying but she certainly doesnβt look okay to me.β
βStay here . .β Sunday absentmindedly murmured, his eyes remained fixated on you, and as if his feet had a mind of its own, he started walking towards you.
βHey! What the heck happened to βI simply cannot bring myself to face her like thisβ!β Wonweek called out to him, mocking his voice but didnβt bother interfering, he figured the two of you needed to talk, even if it was indirectly.
This wasnβt Sundayβs plan at all, he wasnβt supposed to approach you yet here he was merely three steps away; he had to remind himself not to get carried away with things and that he had a disguise which meant he was a stranger to you.
βPardon my intrusion, Miss but are you okay?β
At the sound of an unfamiliar voice, you immediately snapped out of your thoughts and shifted your gaze to its owner who stood to your left, just beyond your line of sightβit was an Intellitron clad in a long plum coloured dress. Despite their unmoving facial features, you could sense the hint of concern in their voice.
βO-Oh, um! Yes, of course thank you for asking . . Apologies for my rudeness! Did you want to sit down?β You feigned a cough and adjusted the sunglasses atop your nosebridge before scooting to the edge of the bench to make room. The Intellitron murmured a small thank you as she sat down, smoothing the skirt of her dress.
βMy apologies if you were taken aback by my brazenness.β
βNot at all! Iβm grateful to have someone look out for me, Miss . . ?β
βWonweek.β The Intellitron replied.
βMiss Wonweek! What a lovely name . . Thank you, again. Itβs just that itβs been a long day and, uh, a . . dear friend of mine has gone somewhere far, far away from me, and I am not certain when I will see him next. Or if I will ever see him again.β You tried your best to stabilize your voice but as each word slipped past your lips, they trembled harder than the last, and the only way to calm yourself down was to caress the golden band wrapped around your ring finger.
βThis friend . . he seems quite important to you, no?β
Letting out a shaky sigh, you nodded, βHeβs someone I hold very dear to my heart and all I wish for is to talk to him. Iβve been meaning to tell him something.β Sunday swallowed thickly, what could that something possibly be? Heβd rather not get his hopes up.
βYour friend may have gone off somewhere far away but I am certain once the time is right, destiny will intertwine your paths once more.β
βOf course. And should the path he chooses not include me in the future, I can only hope itβs a path where he is genuinely happy. I am willing to sacrifice that.β After all, your ties with The Family would make the situation difficultβOti Alfalfa had already warned you earlier that they had eyes and ears everywhere.
βI may not know your friend well but I am certain he would not want a future without you in it.β
3 months and 3 weeks later, Consternation Starzone, Planarcadia
βUgh, come on! You already picked the last movie, Stelle! Let me pick one for movie night this time!β
As Sunday walked into the hotel room, he was immediately met with a scene of his bickering companions, however, one of them remained seated in a corner with his arms folded across his chest and eyes closed.
βGreat, Sundayβs here! He can back me up on this one! Can you please convince her to watch this movie?β The pink haired woman βwho he had come to know as Miss March 7thβeagerly walked over to him and shoved her phone before his face, presenting an opened browser tab for an overview of a movie.
Love and Devotion (1h 49m): Estranged childhood best friends find their way back to one another which results in a trip down memory lane and a blossoming love. Faced with obstacles from their contrasting paths, they navigate through difficulties together, ultimately challenging their relationship.
Cast: Mr. Cassian Noctis, Mrs.β
She swiftly pulled away her phone before he could read any further, an expectant look in her eyes. That was your movie, March 7th wanted to watch your movieβhe made a promise to himself heβd make time to watch it once it comes out but ever since he boarded the Express, it had only been missions after missions. Though, he was updated enough to know that it received a lot of love not only in Penacony but across the cosmos as well.
βDo you even know what youβre asking of him? Thatβs his wife in that movie!β Stelleβthe other woman March argued with earlierβscratched the back of her head, whisper-yelling the other half of her sentence. She sat on the edge of the bed, a pillow tucked beneath her arms.
The latter quickly connected the dots, her eyes wide with realisation, βO-Oh! Um! You know what, I think we can go with the movie you picked!β
It wasnβt a secret among the Crew that Sunday was married but they figured the topic was sensitive to him as he barely talked about you, even the mention of Penacony had him wearing a solemn expression.
Though it was the complete opposite for him, Sunday wanted to talk about youβabout his homeworld but he was afraid doing so would only get his hopes up for nothing. For the past few months he had been hoping to at least get a glimpse of you during his journey around the cosmos, you were an actress after all, you occasionally went on film press tours.
βI donβt mind at all. I had the opportunity to watch behind the scenes while they were shooting and I was more than intrigued to see the finished piece.β Sunday shook his head, he handed March their room keycard she gave him earlier before sitting next to his dark haired companion on the couch.
βReally? Thatβs so cool! Ugh, I wish I could get her autograph! You know, I was quite surprised when news broke out that she was engaged! Iβve also seen some of the wedding photos and you two looked absolutely stunning! Anyway, how about you Dan Heng? Do you have any movies you wanna watch?β March turned to the man next to Sunday.
Dan Heng opened his eyes and slowly shook his head, βIβm okay with any movie you guys pick.β
After a few more minutes of going back and forth, all lights were turned off and everyone eventually settled on Love and Devotion. Sunday was the most intriguedβeven more than March 7th who initially convinced all to watch the movie; he knew of your acting prowess yetΒ he was completely speechless.
Every single time you appeared on screen, his heart seemed to skip a beat or two, he chalked it up to not having seen your face for a while which is why excitement enveloped him every now and then.Β
However, half way through the movie while a particular scene playedβthe scene he vividly remembered watching on setβa foreign feeling enveloped his entire body, a hint of heat and something more.
Subtly, Sunday looked around to see his companionsβ reactions, March 7th and Stelle who were sitting on the bed were unfazed by the escalating scene of the movie whereas Dan Heng merely scrolled on his dimmed phone, a slight blanket of pink dusting his cheeks.
With the volume turned all the way up, wet kissing sounds filled all four walls of the hotel room, it made Sundayβs stomach churn in a way that had him digging the tips of his fingers on his palms.
You and Cassian were only kissing but the intensity and lewd noises you made sent an icy shudder down his spine.
This wasnβt good.
A quiet, shaky sigh left his lips as his pants tightened with each passing second. Oh god, was he . . aroused? He didnβt remember feeling this way when he was on setβquite the oppositeβso why now?
Sure, the room was dark enough to hide his growing erection but it wasnβt exactly ideal to experience one around three people. Besides, it was uncouth and he needed to leave. Now.
Sunday immediately stood up, gaining curious glances from everyone else, he tried to subtly cover pants, βUh, I-I need to get something in Dan Heng and Iβs room. Feel free to keep watching.β He didnβt bother waiting for anyone else to respond and immediately headed for the door.
As he stepped out onto the hallway, he breathed out a sigh of relief, at least there wasnβt anyone else around the corridors this late at night. Carefully, he walked towards the shared room, trying his best to avoid further friction in his pants or else it would be a very embarrassing moment for himβit wasΒ humiliating enough to walk with a weird gait, anything more and heβd bury himself in the ground.
Thankfully, Sunday reached the room which he hastily opened with the keycard tucked inside his pocket, he swiftly slipped inside and sat on the edge of his bed with his eyes closed.
Silence settled in the air, it was accompanied by his heavy, uneven breaths as he tried to calm his racing thoughts. He felt extremely filthyβto think of you in such a lustful light without your knowledge, it was beyond unmannerly.Β
βF-Forgive me . . for my vulgar thoughts and for what I am about to do.β
In the blink of an eye, Sunday found himself inside the bathroom, door locked and back pressed against it.
Dizziness washed over him and embarrassment ate away at his feverish skin as he reached for the waistband of his pants, he hastily pulled it down with his underwear, a sharp hiss leaving his lips, cock slapping against his lower abdomen. It wore a deep blush of pink and oozed with pearlescent pre-cum, he wondered how his cock would look against your face while you licked and sucked at it.
The soft fabric shamelessly pooled around his ankles which completely exposed his lower half, the cool air against his legs left an icy shudder. Sunday brought the hem of his shirt to his face, biting down at it so it didnβt get in the way.
He wrapped a trembling hand around the base and squeezed, a loud moan immediately spilling from his lips, pre-cum that decorated his sensitive cockhead trickled down.
A pearlescent sheen covered the entirety of Sundayβs cock as he eagerly spread it from tip to baseβup and down, up and down, a couple of languid strokes that had him panting heavily.
A vivid imagery of you pumping his cock plagued his mind as he shut his eyes closed, both hands wrapped around the length of his shaft while your tongue gave experimental licks, βNghβah! Mhm!β Sunday whimpered, free hand gripping the cool surface of the bathroom door behind him, he hadn't been doing this for long yet his knees were ready to give up from the immense weight of pleasure.
His chest vigorously rose and fell as each inhale and exhale turned more shallow than the last, he picked up the pace, stroking himself a little faster.
Pure bliss gnawed at his feverish skin, it sank its teeth into him βtil it reached his very bones, engulfing his entire body in an intoxicating pleasured state.
βAhβ! Haah! Oh, god!β
Despite the sound of blood rushing in his ears, Sunday replayed the sinful moans you made in the movie, how your face contorted in pleasure as Cassian kissed down your neckβlips parted and brows tightly knitted together.
You sang the most exquisite melody he has ever heard and he could only hope to pull the very same ones, maybe something even better, one that would flawlessly intertwine with his own to create an immoral tune.
He bucked his hips into his curled hand at the thought of having sex with you. Embarrassingly, Sunday had never gotten intimate with anyoneβhis days were packed with duty on top of duty and he wasnβt given the chance to get into a relationship as it was the last thing he had in mind as (former) Oak Family Head. All he knew was to govern the Lineage he grew up in.
But he wondered . . How would you feel around his cock? Were you warm and soft?βmaybe even a hint of greediness where you readily swallowed him whole.
It almost pained him that you werenβt in front of him right this moment because now, he had to settle for his inexperienced hand and just the thought of that grew a bud of frustration within his chest. Sunday wanted youβhe needed you.Β
Badly.
He desired to bury his shaft deep inside and have you come undone around him once, twice, as much as you wantedββtil your legs trembled around his waist, βtil your throat ran dry from repeatedly calling his name like a sacred prayer, and even then, he wasnβt sure if his thirst would be satiated.
This wasnβt just lust anymore. No. Sunday wasnβt merely aroused by a heated scene in your movie, he held something much deeper for you in his heart. It had always been there from the start but remained dormant and quiet enough to go unnoticed by him but now that it has bloomed into something greater, he realised that what he held for you was love.
Sunday loved you. Deeply, truly, and agonizingly.
At the sudden realisation, the coil inside him snapped instantaneously, spurts of hot cum spilled from his cock, he came with a loud wanton moan which echoed throughout the bathroom walls. His body trembled and pleasure which engulfed his entire body took him to places heβs never been before.
Sunday grunted as he milked his cock, shamelessly pumping it βtil it emptied; he slumped against the door, filth settling over him while he tried to catch his breath.
Despite his lust-clouded mind, he only thought of one thingβto tell you how he truly felt.
As morning finally came, Sunday stepped outside the hotel to gather his thoughts after last nightβs realisation, he figured getting some fresh air while walking amongst the locals and taking in the beauty of Ahatopia would quench the yearning in his heart.
Duomension City was as busy as ever with students, office workers and early risers trying to get through the morning rush, even at this hour the City remained livelyβthis world wasnβt entirely different from Penacony, teeming with large and colourful animated posters, it reminded Sunday of Moment of Golden Hour which also brimmed with bright billboards, music, and the surge of Penaconians out and about, it made him miss home even more.
But Planarcadia was different, it was a world that devoured silence and perhaps thatβs why Sunday had grown to relax a little because silence left too much room to think. He adjusted the collar of his coat as he stepped through the crowded avenue, weaving between strangers with practised ease.
The cool air smelled faintly of freshly brewed coffee and expensive perfume, it blended seamlessly with the sounds of passing conversations and the quiet hum of cars.
A group of students rushed past him suddenly, laughing too loudly and nearly colliding with his shoulder. Sunday stepped aside instinctively, accidentally knocking into a stranger; the sound of a distinct thud reached his ears, an object falling onto the ground.
He halted his tracks to pick up the fallen objectβa bottle of iced coffeeβand return it to its owner. Ah, he should really watch his surroundings.
βMy apologies for bumping into you, I shouldβve been more aware of myββ Sunday stopped mid sentence as he faced the owner of the beverage.
The world didnβt go silent, no, if anything, Planarcadia only grew louder around himβfootsteps rushing past, the distant sound of train announcements echoing, laughter from down the street but all of it blurred into meaningless noise because standing only a few inches away was you.
There was no mistaking it with your ivory wings and gleaming halo.
Was he dreaming? It had to be an elaborate prank, no? This was the world of Elation after all, maybe some Fool decided to play a sick joke on him. But the look on your face mirrored his ownβshock and confusion.
For a moment, neither of you moved, the sea of people in the vicinity weaved their way aroundβthey split and reformed like water around stone. Strangers brushed against his shoulders unaware that his world had just tilted violently off its axis.
You werenβt doing any better at all, it's as though your heart had forgotten how to beat. Sunday looked different, it wasnβt a drastic change but it was enough for you to notice.
The pristine perfection once attached to him had frayed at the edges, his attire was less . . uniform, and his eyes gleamed with more sincerity but there was undeniable exhaustion on his face, as if the last few months had carved something deeper into him.
And yet it was still himβyour Sunday.
β. . Youβre here . . ?β He broke the loud silence first.
βSo are you.β You breathed out.
He looked down, suddenly remembering the bottle which rested on his palm. Carefully, he stepped closer and held it out, you took it with your left hand, fingers brushing against his gloved hand.
Sunday sucked in a sharp breath as he noticed the familiar band of gold around your ring finger, βYouβYou still wear your ring?β He asked with a hint of hope evident in his tone.
You almost laughed at the absurdity of his observation but curiosity soon followed, βWe are still married, after all. People notice everything, if they donβt see a ring on me, theyβd immediately assume divorce. Itβs not exactly easy given your absence in Penacony. Why? Do you not wear yours anymore?β
Oh. So you only kept the ring on to avoid speculation and here he thought it meant something more to you but he didnβt have the luxury to sulk about it because every second spent in his presence faced bigger punishment for youβhe knew The Family, they werenβt lenient.
He didnβt wear his ring anymore but kept it with him at all times, it was tucked safely inside the inner pocket of his coat, close to his heart. He refused to wear it for the same reason he severed his halo back in Penaconyβto feel pain. Albeit not physically, he felt the emotional pain of being undeserving of loving you and being loved by you.
βI think I should go. WeβWe shouldnβt be talking . .β Sunday shook his head and slowly stepped backwards which earned a baffled expression from you.
Thatβs it?
After not seeing each other for months, he was just going to chicken out and refuse to talk? You were well aware he only cared for your safety but you believed you needed answers from him and besides, the confession in your heart sat long enoughβit was finally time to set it free.
βReally, Sunday?β
The sound of your voice uttering his name had him swallowing thickly. βBecause if I remember correctly, you still had the guts to talk to me back in Penacony hours after you became a fugitive.β
He stopped in his tracks, now it was his turn to be confused, βYou saw through my disguise?β
β. . I had a hunch it was you. Iβve replayed that conversation a million times for the past few monthsβover and over βtil it finally dawned on me. So, please, letβs talk? You told me in that very conversation you wouldnβt want a future without me in it, right?β
Sunday couldnβt refuse.
The two of you found yourselves back at your hotel roomβhe wouldβve offered his room if he wasnβt sharing it with Dan Hengβboth of you figured it wasnβt best to talk about such matters in public, especially since merely being seen together with Sunday was already a crime itself.
The hotel you stayed at was more luxurious, a suite which offered a generous view of the bustling city below and its panoramic skyline, and carefully selected artwork adorned its beige painted walls.
βAre you here for a press tour?β He asked, eyeing the expansive room.Β
βIβm here on vacation.β
Silence stretched and tension grew thicker with each second, you and Sunday stood a few metres apart from one another, sticking out like sore thumbs. Neither of you dared to speak with the amount of thoughts that raced in your mindsβthere was simply a lot to talk about that none of you knew where to start at all.
Should you address the elephant in the room? What he did back in Penacony and the fact that he was now a wanted criminal? Or should you tell him the very words in your heart that desired to be known?
Yes, Sunday committed the highest act of treason against his homeland, its people, and The Family but what exactly could you even say to him regarding that matter? Get angry and berate him further like everyone else did in his absence? Doing so still wouldnβt change what he had done. Youβve heard every word The Family higher ups spoke of himβthey were rightfully angry, of course, you wouldnβt deny them that feeling but it pained you.
βI need to tell you something.β Both of you spoke up in unison, urgency in your tones equally evident.
βYou go ahead first.β Sunday cleared his throat. If he was being honest, he hasnβt been able to sit still ever since he last spoke to you in Penaconyβyou mentioned how you wanted to tell him something, and judging by the look on your face, he could only assume what you wanted to say was regarding that matter.
Letting out a sigh, you nodded, never in a million years did you think youβd be confessing to him in a luxury hotel room, in a foreign world, stars away from Penacony,
βI know our marriage requires us to . . act in certain ways to make it believable but I have something Iβve buried inside my chest for as long as I can remember and no matter how many times I push it down or simply ignore it, it just wonβt go away . . What am I even rambling about? What Iβm trying to say is . . I have feelings for you, Sundayβeven before this whole marriage act, ever since we were children.β
You looked away and stared at the abstract painting near the bed, you simply couldnβt handle returning Sundayβs stare, especially not when silence grew. Maybe you should have just kept your mouth closed and let him go first because now you were starting to regret itβwhat if he wanted to get a divorce?
Clearly there was no point in your marriage anymore, he has been absent in public for months and there was no reason to keep up the charade.
Even though your marriage was sealed with a legitimate contract, none of The Family Heads acknowledged its authenticity; your mother and Robin were a different caseβit was more so out of respect while the rest did so out of disdain but still, the Dreammaster who orchestrated this unity was already dead which meant it held no significance at all.
Just an empty legal document.
βI . . feel the same way.β
. . What?
βIt was foolish of me not to realize sooner. It was easy for me to show affection for you because what I have in my heart is genuine but I merely hid it behind the reason of duty because I wasnβt entirely sure of these feelings at all.βΒ
Now, it was Sundayβs turn to look away in embarrassment, a hue of deep rose graced his pale cheeks and heat prickled his skin.
Your breath stopped and the city below seemed to disappear, his words werenβt grand but they were honest, probably the most honest it has been since for as long as you could remember, it was a simple truth laid bare beneath a foreign sky.
For a long moment, you couldnβt speak because part of you had wanted thisβyou dreamed of this for so long now that it felt entirely cruel.
Cruel because you couldnβt be with him, not by your side, not in Penacony, not elsewhere, and now that your hearts were on the table, you simply couldnβt stand the thought of separation.
But for now, you wanted to cherish this moment. To convince yourself that you and Sunday had a future together where he didnβt have to run from The Family and face consequences, that the two of you werenβt bound for interminable separation.
βThis is so unfair.β With a shaky breath, you buried your face in the hearts of your palms. You were certain if Aha was aware of the situation you and Sunday were in right now, THEY would be laughing. What a cruel joke from the cosmos.
He closed the distance between the two of you, protectively wrapping his arms around your body as he rested his chin on the crown of your head. Itβd be absolutely selfish of him to ask for something more but he couldnβt bear the thought of you being with someone else.
He pulled back and pried your hands away from your face, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheeks as he cupped them, tentativeΒ in a way that almost undid you more than certainty would have.
β. . May I?β He whispered. The warmth of his hand against your skin sent something sharp and aching through your chest.
βYou may.β
Sunday slowly leaned in and for a moment, you remembered the βkissβ at Eventide, only this time, it was as real as it got. The kiss wasnβt dramatic nor theatricalβit was merely his lips pressed against your own, soft with a small tremble, as if almost unsure if this was the right thing to do.
One hand found your waist carefully, drawing you closer with a reverence that made your knees feel less reliable all of a sudden. The kiss deepened but not with force but with feeling, slow and tender.
It felt like grief and relief at the same time, as though the two of you mourned the past few months but also treasuring the fact that, somehow, there was still the present and the future.
His lips were warm and softer than youβd imagined in moments you had long since stopped permitting yourself to imagine. Every slight shift was careful, as though he was memorizing the map of your lips. For the first time, this moment was entirely yours and Sundayβsβno ivory wing to shield the kiss, no cameras, and definitely not out of duty.
Your hands found their way to his collar, fingers curling more firmly into him which pulled the faintest sound, something quiet and surprised that sent a shiver down your spine. When you finally parted, it was only enough to breathe; your foreheads rested together, the city below spinning while the morning seemed to hold itself still around you.
β. . So,β You whispered, still breathless, βThat was significantly better than the wedding.β
Sundayβs shoulders shifted slightly, he laughed, βI would hope so.β
You smiled before you could stop yourself, and perhaps he saw something equally dangerous in your expression because his gaze softened into something so openly affectionate it nearly stole your breath all over again. You pulled him back down on you, this time the kiss was less hesitant but just as tender than the last, and maybe also a bit rougherβfull of desire and hunger.
Sundayβs hand remained at your waist, steady and warm as though he feared everything might vanish if he held on too tightly but this second kiss had already undone that illusion, there was nothing uncertain left in the way you leaned into him, nothing hesitant in the way your fingers dug into the fabric of his coat.
The kiss deepened not with urgency alone but with the quiet ache of something long denied, every touch seemed to carry the weight of love restrained far too long.
βTell me to stop.β Sunday breathed out between kisses, a shaky whisper. His words werenβt obligation, they were reverence as he would simply not take what was not freely given.Β
Your answer came not in words but in the way your hands rose to cradle his face, the way you kissed him again with a certainty that made his breath hitch, and that was enough for him. His restraint broke softly akin to silk slipping loose, not reckless, never reckless but what laid beneath the silken veil was a brewing storm of desireβthe feelings of yesterday suddenly coming back to him.
The hand on your waist carefully slid upward, the tips of his fingers tracing your clothed body before he gently ushers you out of your jacket, it fell onto the polished floors with a soft thudβone layer deeper, closer to what you both wanted.
But before you could go any further, Sunday completely pulled away from the kiss, cheeks bitten with pink and lips parted as he breathed heavily.
There was a hint of hesitancy in his face, βIβve never done this before but I want you . .β He whispered, trailing off as embarrassment engulfed him.
You gave him a small smile and leaned in to kiss his lips, βThatβs okay,β Then, the column of his neck, βYou can simply,β And the spot beneath his wing, βFollow my lead.β
Oh, youβd be the death of him.
Soon, your hands slid down to unfasten his coat, easing him out of his outer layer βtil it met yours on the ground.
There was something so heartbreakingly human about this momentβtwo individuals who had once stood at the altar of Eventide, beneath thousands of watchful eyes, now trembling more in private than both have ever had in public.
No words were spoken as each layer was shed, only the quiet rustle of fabric, shared kisses, and the growing anticipation as you bared your feelings to one another.
Sunday barely noticed you had guided him over to the bed βtil his back kissed the soft ivory sheets, he was so caught up in the heat of the moment he almost forgot to drink you inβto bask in the sheer beauty of your naked body.
Through tinted cheeks and wet lashes, he looked up at you with pure desire and slowly raked his honeyed gaze all over your bodyβfrom your breasts, to the dip of your waist, and all the way down to the apex of your thighs. Sunday let out a shaky breath as he felt his cock hardening even further.
βYouβre exquisite.β He breathed out. Paired with your glimmering halo and the wings behind your ears, you were a sight for the heavens.
βYouβre not so bad yourself, Mr. Sunday.β
A small chuckle escaped your lips, it was clearly a tease to mask the fact that his naked form drove you to the brink of insanity. Beautiful was an understatementβthere wasnβt a word in the thesaurus that could describe the angelic sight before you.
The shy look on his face was ironic because his cock stood prouder than ever, begging to be inside you. It flushed pink and leaked a generous amount of pre-cum, and it took all your will power not to lap it up right then and there.
βWait,β He started. βI want to please you.β
At his request, you switched positions, only this time you sat up on the edge of the bed. Sunday slowly got on his knees before you as he placed a trail of chaste kisses down your neck, collarbones, and just above the valley of your breasts. Sensing slight hesitation from him, you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and guided his hand to your chest,
βIt feels good when you massage and squeeze itβah! Justβmhm! Just like that.β You moaned as he gave an experimental squeeze, brain short-circuiting at your immediate reaction to his touch; his palms were expansive and his fingers were long which allowed him to stimulate most of the sensitive area.
Sunday brought both hands to cup each breast, gently massaging them while his eyes darted between your chest and face, he wore an expression full of wonder and curiosity, rosy lips lightly parted as he breathed heavily.
Curious, he eagerly wrapped his lips around a mound, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple, causing your hands to fly to his hair.
βS-Sundayβ!β
He responded with a hum which sent vibrations across your skin as you gently tugged at his hair. If he was being honest, he wasnβt entirely sure what he was doing and his actions were merely fuelled by the sounds and expressions you made.
With one hand still on your other breast, he gently fondled your sensitive nipple between his lithe fingers, you arched your back, pressing your chest further into his face. Your skin was extremely warm and soft beneath his touch it almost felt unreal; he couldnβt believe he was right in front of you, intimate and vulnerable.
Sunday then switched between your breasts, giving the other the same amount of attention and stimulation before he trailed downwards.
Gentle and hot, he placed wet open-mouthed kisses between the valley of your chest and along your stomach, taking the time to lap up the sensitive area just above your bellybutton.
Once he reached your sex, he looked up at you briefly to look for any discomfort in your face, and upon not finding any, he slowly pried your legs open, revealing your sopping entrance.
All for him?
Though, it felt rather daunting not really knowing where to start. With two fingers, Sunday gently rubbed up and down your slit a couple of times, observing your reactionβyou bit the bottom of your lip and your brows slightly knitted together.
So far, so good.
βY-You canβngh! Wet your index andβahβring finger with your mouth and put them inside.β You let out a soft moan, one hand planted firmly on the mattress to support your crumbling torso while the other explored his hair. Sunday may have been inexperienced but god did he pleasure you effortlessly, he hasnβt even touched you properly yet you were already trembling.
At your words, he paused slightly. Put his fingers inside his mouth? What a bizarre thing to do. His cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red as he wrapped his lips around his digits, effectively wetting them as instructed, he could taste a hint of you.
You could only watch in awe as the sight before you unfolded, never in your lifetime did you think youβd see the revered Sundayβformer Bronze Melodia and former Oak Family Headβstick his fingers inside his mouth.
βNow, with your palm facing the ceiling, slowly push them in one by one.β
A soft pop echoed in the silence as he removed his digits from his mouth and brought them down to your sopping cunt. Slowly, he pushed his index finger past your folds and immediately sought your reactionβa soft sigh.
Oh, how warm you were, it felt like he was dipping his hand in a pot of warm honey, slick and smooth, and maybe even as sweet. Sunday gave a few shallow experimental pumps before adding the second digit, eliciting a shaky whimper from you.
βHaaβah! C-Curl your fingers upwards andβyes! Oh, god! Just like that, Sundayβmhm!β You threw your head back as he curled his fingers, face contorted in pure pleasure.
At your pornographic reaction, he swallowed thickly; he tried not to think about how much his cock ached, being untouched for so long, itβd have to wait for a little while, he wanted to please you βtil you were satisfied.
Deep in a haze of lust, you tried your best to form a coherent sentence, βCan youβoh, that feels good. Can you feel a spongy texture? Gently apply pressure and rub it back a-and forthβhngh!β
Sunday absentmindedly nodded, he could feel the area you mentioned just above the pads of his fingers. As you instructed, he pressed on it lightly, afraid heβd hurt you if he did more. With a grind of your hips, you let out a wanton moan in the shape of his name.
βIs this okay . . ?β He breathed out.
βY-Youβre doing good. Just keep a delicate, steady pace . .β Your hand on his hair snaked down to the apex of your legs to spread open your cunt, βIf you wantβhaah! You can also kiss at this spot here at the top andβoh, fuck! Sunday!β
Before you could finish your sentence, his lips were already flushed against your entrance, closely following every word you uttered. A slight shudder washed over your naked body as his feathered wings brushed against the insides of your thighs.
βYes! Lightly suck on it like thaβaah! Ngh! Haah, Iβm so close. Donβtβmhm! Donβt stop, pleaseβ
With the combined stimulation of his fingers inside you and his lips around your clit, a string of colourful moans left your lips as you slowly sank deeper into the depths of bliss. The sounds you made were music to his ears which only fuelled his actions further.
With a forceful grunt, you threw your head back as you came on Sundayβs fingersβtoes curling and thighs shaking at the immense wave of pleasure that hit you.
He slowed down his movements and resorted to languid strokes which allowed you to grind your hips and ride out your orgasm. He let out a shaky moan at the sensation of your walls tightening around his fingers, oddly enough, it felt satisfying for him.
Coming down from your high, you slumped down on the bed, face extremely heated and lips parted to catch your breath.
Wide eyed and in slight awe, Sunday slowly pulled out his slick coated fingers which earned a low whine from you, he curiously examined his soaked digits, they were faintly trembling from the repeated motion.
Without a second thought, he wrapped his lips around them with the sweetness of your taste settling on his tongue. Oh, how dangerously addicting you were. Wet sounds slipped from his mouth as he sucked his digits clean from your saccharine slick, earning a curious glance from you as you lifted your head off the mattress.
He was trying to kill you.
The two of you found yourselves situated further up the bed with Sunday slotted between your parted legs, he hovered over you with one palm firmly planted beside your head while the other languidly pumped his hard cock just before your wet cunt.
He let out soft pants above you, flushed face contorting with pleasure, βA-Are you sure?β Even with his mind entirely clouded by lust he prioritised your comfort.
βAs long as it's you, I can never be more sure.β
He smiled in response and placed a chaste kiss on your lips before slowly guiding the tip to your folds. Snaking a hand between your bodies, you helped Sunday position his cock correctlyβa few centimetres downβthen, you loosely circled your arms around his neck, allowing him to go at his own pace.Β
The morning glow surrounded him like a serene aura, it bounced off his pale skin which gave him a heavenly glow. With a shaky exhale, he pushed his cockhead inch by inch which immediately earned a sharp gasp from both of you.
The feeling of you around him was foreign yet oddly comforting, your walls were warmβextremely warmβit almost felt like he was soaking inside a hot tub of water and it made his head spin in a good way.
Sunday met your gaze with his starry ones, a light sheen of tears coating his eyes at how amazing you felt around him.
He couldnβt believe he was inside you, buried deep inside the woman he truly loved; he prayed in the back of his lust-fogged mind hoping that this wasnβt a dream.
You bit your lip as he bottomed out, watching the way Sundayβs body reacted to everythingβhow his wings curled inwards, how his abdomen tightened and untightened, and how his breathing grew uneven with every passing second. He genuinely looked like he was on cloud nine.
Unwrapping an arm from his neck, you slotted your hand against his jawβjust at the spot below his ear and wingβto caress his cheek, βYou okay . . ?β
A small nod, then, his eyes fluttered shut, the tips of his lashes brushing against his rosy stained cheeks. Sunday leaned into your touch with a faint whimper, one that had your brain short-circuiting.
For a minute or two, he stilled inside, allowing you both to adjust to the feeling; this wasnβt your first time but the sheer length of his cock reached spots you didnβt know even existed to the point where you had to count to ten just to steer yourself away from spiraling and cumming right then and there.
βS-So tightβngh. You feel good.β Sunday slowly pulled back about halfway before thrusting back inside, drawing wanton moans from both of you.
He resorted to languid, deep thrusts which allowed you to feel every inch of himβfor your sopping cunt to remember the exact shape of his cockβand each time he bottomed out, his cockhead deliciously kissed your sweet spot.
With the slow rhythm set, the bed creaked and groaned in time with the movements of his hips, sounds of light skin slapping and lewd squelching filled all four walls of the entire room.
Everything felt sinfulβfrom the pornographic moans you let out to the slick that covered his cock and your inner thighs but god was it completely addicting.Β
Sundayβs face remained a mere breath away from yours, keeping eye contact, his honeyed gaze pulled you into the depths of warm bliss, akin to a gentle hug that enveloped oneβs body.
Every intentional push and pull of his hips knocked out oxygen from your lungs which had you incoherently gasping for his name.
A light sheen of sweat coated your bodies as the morning air grew impossibly thick, the ivory sheets beneath your back clung onto you like second skin, and Sundayβs hair stuck to his forehead but neither of you cared about the filthiness of it, not when your bodies pleasured one another like there was no tomorrow.
Not when he firmly pressed his cock with every thrust inside you.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, effectively pulling him closer and allowing him to reach you a little deeper than before; your hands spread across his shoulder blades, curling inwards to decorate his back with rubied streaks.
The sharp sting of your nails sent Sunday forward, his head fell onto the pillows beneath your own, shamelessly moaning dangerously close to your ear.
At the sound of your moans, he picked up his pace, his cock hitting your g-spot a little harder. He also neared his climax and with the way your greedy cunt tightened around him and he knew he wasnβt going to last any longer.
Using all the strength he had left, Sunday lifted himself with trembling arms and gave you an open-mouthed kiss, it was messier than he had intended but the mere feeling of your mouths slotting against one another with your saliva mixing only fuelled the drive of his hips further.
He pulled away slightly, a thin string of spit connecting his lips to yours, βPlease cum for me! Nghβah! Haah! C-Cum with me!β
With a few more sloppy thrusts, Sunday sheathed the entire length of his cock, firmly pressing into your sensitive spot as he came with a loud, shameless moan, ear feathers shaking from pleasure. You followed shortly after, nails digging into his skin which left red crescent shaped marks all across his back.
Ribbons of thick, warm cum generously coated your walls, youβve never been this full before but you werenβt complaining, the feeling of Sunday filling you to the brim had you whimpering beneath him.
His cock several times twitched inside you as it emptied itself; he came so much to the point where his cum had started spilling out of you and dripped onto the sheets below, effectively soiling them but he couldnβt just simply stop himself even if he wanted toβit kept coming out in waves βtil there was nothing left.
Embarrassed, Sunday buried his face at the junction of your neck, prickly heat creeping up his cheeks. A breathless chuckle left your lips, hands soothing over the reddened trails you left on his back, who knew he could actually get embarrassed over something as little as cumming too much?
How adorable.
He rolled over with a grunt and plopped onto the empty spot next to you, you curled next to him, the uneven rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheeks somewhat pulling you back into reality.
One of his arms rested loosely around you, absentmindedly tracing slow, soothing patterns against your back as if he reassured himself that you werenβt just a dream, that you were real and remained right next to him.
For a while, neither of you spokeβthe quiet wasnβt uncomfortable, just your breaths slowly steadying itself with each second.
A saddened expression washed over your face as reality settled on your shoulders akin to cold seeping through glassβslowly yet adamantβand you were immediately reminded of the predicament you both faced. Your fingers tightened slightly where they rested against him and Sunday noticed immediately,
βWhatβs wrong? Did I hurt you?β He whispered, confusion painted on his face; his voice was much softerβachingly gentle.
You shook your head, gaze lifting towards the expansive windows and the horizon beyond it, βI just . . I was just reminded of what you and I have to face and Iβm scared, Sunday. WhatβWhat if The Family finds out youβre here in Planarcadia andβI donβt even want to think about what theyβll do. Iβm scared for us because . . I finally have you and I donβt know if that means weβll be separated again . .β
Really, there was nothing you could do but you wanted to be with Sunday, you wanted to spend your days with him out in the open, not a single care in the cosmos about The Family being after himβyou wanted him back home and beside you.
Beside you, he shifted closer, he carefully tilted your chin upward βtil you had no choice but to look at him. Funnily enough, for all the uncertainty ahead, his gaze remained steady, βWe wonβt lose one another.β
βSundayββ βListen to me.β He softly interrupted, thumb brushing lightly beneath your eye before tears could fully gather.
βI do not know what the next month will look likeβor the next year, and I cannot promise you our union either but I can promise you this: when the time comes, I will face it all and I will do everything in my power to rightfully earn the spot beside you.β
Your lips trembled, not only from sadness but from the fragile, terrifying hope that began to bloom beneath your chest.
βThe Family wonβt stop.β You whispered.
βI know.β
βThey wonβt forgive easily.β
βI know.β
βThereβs a real chance we could be eternally separated.β
Sunday smiled, not because it was funny but because somehowβdespite everythingβhe felt almost fond of your catastrophizing, βThen we shall simply find our way back to one another the same way we did today, no?β
Your laugh came unexpectedlyβit was humourless and full of disbelief but purely light hearted, βYou make that sound very simple.β
βIt wonβt be but difficult has never meant impossible.β He murmured, brushing a strand of stray hair from your face with unbearable tenderness.Β
Mirroring his smile, you shifted closer to bury yourself against his bare skin as though you were anchoring your heart to him. Sundayβs arm tightened around you immediately, protective without thought before pressing a quiet kiss to your forehead.
And as though all worries dissipated into the skies of Planarcadia, the once lonely suite had transformed into something far more lived-inβthe bed remained half unmade, blankets tangled and abandoned, heated remnants of earlier faded into something more wholesome. Room service trays sat on the wooden coffee table, silver lids pushed aside in favour of half-finished lunch.
Sunday was seated on the floorβpants and top messily thrown over his bodyβeating a fruit. He looked up from where he sat, brows lifting slightly as you eagerly rummaged through your luggage near the entryway. You returned to him with your arms full, a couple of somewhat familiar-looking objects tucked inside.
βWhat is that?β He blinked
You grinned with entirely too much satisfaction, βEmergency provisions.βΒ
His confusion turned to suspicion but nonetheless, you carefully set your haul onto the polished floor one by one like priceless contraband:
Sweet dream cloud candies in iridescent wrappers. Golden lullaby honey crisps. Starfall sugar biscuits dusted in edible shimmer. Moondew fruit chews. SoulGlad. And finally,Β
βChocolate pudding tarts.β Sunday breathed out. He stared at the familiar dessert packaging as though it had appeared through divine intervention.Β
βI brought these snacks with me so I wouldnβt get homesick while on vacation. I often do the same during press toursββ
Before you could speak any further, the lighthearted atmosphere shifted subtly but you noticed itβthe way an expression of sadness crept up his face.
Sunday was homesick.
You hadnβt thought heβd beβno, that wasnβt true, you had thought about it, you just didnβt expect something so minor to make it visible.
Slowly, you opened the packaging and offered the pudding tart. For a second, he simply stared at it but carefully took it nonetheless. He grabbed a silver spoon from one of the trays and scooped a small amount, as if indulging any further was forbidden.
Its familiar sweetness melted on his tongue and you watched as his expression changed into something more nostalgic.
You knew where he had immediately goneβto childhood, to the happier memories where he only worried about how to sneak in more pudding tarts in between music lessons, and what to write in the letter heβd regularly send to Robin (There was just too much to talk about!)
βIt tastes the same as I remember . . Iβthank you.β
You shook your head, βYou donβt have to thank me. I just thought youβd miss some snacks from home.β
You and Sunday spent the entire morning and afternoon holed up in the suite reminiscing about the colourful past, revealing how one deciphered their feelings for the other; he also took the time to give you a proper apology for involving your name and reputation in his affairs to which you accepted.
Maybe it was fate playing a hand.
Once full of worry and fear for the uncertainty that the future held, you learned to slow down and appreciate the presentβthe fact that Sunday was right beside you, safe and healthy.
For now, youβd cherish this moment in a foreign world, and whatever the future may bring, you knew nothing could pry you and Sunday apart, that was something you were certain of. And this time without any hesitation, you spoke up,
I address you today with a heart filled with sadness and hope at the same time, hoping that my words reach your heart. I am Ahmed, and I am writing to you on behalf of my family who lives in the Gaza Strip, where our house was completely destroyed due to recent events.
We lost everything: the house that housed us, the memories that made us feel safe, and all the basics of life we ββhad. Now, we are homeless and in desperate need of help. We only have hope for kind hearts that will help us overcome this ordeal.
We are seeking to raise funds to enable us to leave Gaza to Egypt, where we can start again in a safer environment. The amount we are seeking to raise will enable us to provide temporary shelter, food, and necessary medical care to my family members.
We know that the world is full of kind-hearted people, and we look forward to helping you. Every donation, no matter how small, will make a huge impact in our lives. Your support is not just financial assistance, but rather a message of hope and a humanitarian gesture that we desperately need in these difficult moments.
We are grateful to everyone who can contribute to improving our situation and rebuilding our lives. Please share our story with your friends and family, maybe our voice will reach those who can help.
Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.
Dear Friends, Family, and Kind Strangers,
I am writing to⦠Ahmed Abushammala needs your support for Help the Abu Shammalah Family Find
You playfully grabbed Boothillβs hat, placing onto your own head. His grey eyes locked onto you, a sharp smirk showing off his sharp teeth.
βYou tryinβ to tell me somethinβ, sweetheart?β He asked, eyebrows raising slightly.
βWhat do ya mean?β You asked, his way of speaking started to rub off on you. βCanβt I just enjoy a nice accessory?β
A chuckle rumbling through him, eyes showing a dangerous glint, βYβknow, when you steal someoneβs cowboy hat that means you wanna take off a bit more.β
Your eyes widened, only to glare at the cyborg man that stood in front of you. This time, a smirk fell onto your lips as you simply pointed out, βTake off what? You wear less than the bare minimum.β
summary. there was before you, and there was during you. for some reason, i never thought there would be an after you.
pairing. blade x fem! reader
cc. lowercase intended , angst - no comfort , mention of blood , implied immortal reader , 1.8k words
truly a bittersweet feeling β the way you stared at the picture frame sitting on top of your bedside table displaying a photo of two people alongside each other. you with the man you swore to love for all eternity, yingxing.
you never thought it would be this hard to let go of someone, specifically a person who you had already dedicated yourself to. constellation like souls, tied and destined together by fate. that's what it felt like loving him. for each time your eyes locks with his vermillion colored ones, those short moments felt like you were bound to devote your undying love to him forevermore.
he made it easy to stay alive, to live. for his presence simply gracing yours eased the deepest pains you've long hidden behind a carefree and bubbly personality. he accepted every little piece of you, without a care of what might come for him. he reciprocated the love you unconditionally gave him like it was easy. because for yingxing, it was beyond easy.
"don't you find it weird? that you take care of us but forget to care for yourself afterwards?" a male voice speaks in a whisper-like tone as you tend to the wound planted on his arm using bandages good for the bleeding you didn't cause. "jing yuan, stop worrying so much about me. if im still breathing just fine, then you can't say that i don't take care of myself."
you giggle, finishing his wrapped up right arm before patting it gently, standing up to leave and return the unused roll to a cabinet where they belong. "i'd like you to meet a friend of ours." his statement made you stop in your tracks, looking back behind at the vulnerable man sitting at the bed of your clinic with a smile on his face.
"who?" eyes locked on him, placing the roll on your desk as you patiently awaited for a reply from him. you seriously doubted he had more friends other than the members of the high cloud quintet who viewed you as a trusted someone who they could always run to when they're in need of assistance with injuries they earned from their battles. though, there was someone they've mentioned once who was also a member that you haven't met just yet.
jing yuan tilts his head to the side, looking straight into your eyes. "yingxing, i assume that you've heard of him atleast once or twice whenever you would engage in my conversations with my friends." which was true. you've certainly heard of that name but never really dared to ask about who he might be, for you thought none of it was your business to bring up so casually.
you remembered the day you first laid eyes on him like it happened yesterday. the memories you created with yingxing were the most vivid memories throughout the entirety of your life. fragments of memories you would forever cherish until the minute of your last breath.
he played such a special role in your life. as if you weren't able to carry the burdens crushing you without his support. it truly was a surprise that you managed to last so long unaccompanied by the man that took most of your pain just by simply being there beside you. his absence made it hard for you to breathe.
"xing, look at this!" your hand carried a white tassel that faded downward into a shade of red.
"for me?" he asks in an instant, gazing at the accessory that you've confirmed was for him with a nod. you hang the tassel on the left of his chest, watching as it swayed as he moved. yingxing smiled, at you. blood rushed up to your cheeks upon the rare sight of his gratitude towards your gift that he'd most definitely treasure endlessly.
it wasn't long before he pulled you by the waist while you watched the sun melt from a distance, feeling you warm body against his. yingxing's thumb rubbed circles against your side, making you chuckle.
oh, how you cherished every minute spent with the man you loved. simple moments of intimacy that never failed to make your heart race. silence drowned the lovers ahead, with one silently wishing to the aeons to make their relationship last, and the other hoping that he'll never have to spend another minute without you by his side.
the two were too busy being lost in each other's minds that they failed to notice baiheng capturing the moment with a camera that belonged to you, and jing yuan on the side gazing at the lovers like a proud wingman. guess you'd have to thank her for that later.
it hurt, it never really stopped hurting. yingxing healed you unknowingly, he cured the pain you endured silently by expressing his love for you. and now that he's no longer here with you, the pain became unbearable.
nevertheless, meeting new friends after almost a decade of being alone made everything a teeny tiny bit better. even though one of them was the mere reincarnation of an old friend of yours, yingxing's associate, dan feng.
meeting his reincarnation sure was confusing. he looked the same, but yet so different in so many ways. he goes by dan heng now. for some reason, the two of you got along very well, just like old times.
obviously, as part of the nameless, you were well aware of a specific organization known as the stellaron hunters to which yingxing, or should i say blade, is a member of.
he was an enemy to the astras express crew, to them, atleast. how could you ever hate someone you never stopped loving despite separation for so many years? that's right.
you thought the time where you would have to stand against your beloved would never come, so why were you panting infront of him under the pouring rain? gripping on your sword for dear life as blood streamed down your arm from the wounds he created.
he has changed, this moment was beyond your expectations but being surprised was nowhere to be found. he was your enemy, after all.
blade stood a few feet away from you, his bangs wet from the rain blocking his vision.
yingxing loved and accepted you, but blade discarded you.
for each time you caught his gaze on yours, it broke you to pieces seeing how there's practically no light to be found behind those eyes, just pure hatred. or so you thought.
blade was cursed to be damaged for eternity, cutting the hands of those who dared put his pieces back together, including the hands of the one he loved so dearly.
you wanted him to tell you everything, without leaving any details behind. you longed to feel him in your arms once again, feel that warmth of his that never failed to absolutely melt you. "x-xing.." your lungs were failing you.
"do not address me with that name." he spat, glancing over your fragile state, you were in the verge of breaking, and he did nothing about it. hearing his harsh tone felt like a million pieces of broken glass thrown against your way. you wished for him to hold you, tell you that everything's going to be alright and that he's right there, with you.
but your dreams were nothing but stupid desires.
"finish me off already." heavy breathing followed, using your sword to avoid falling to the ground and looking pathetic, like you weren't already. if you were anyone else, blade would've never hesitated and would grant your wish the moment you utter the words out. but you were more than that.
he launches at you, forcing you to engage in the duel, surrendering was not an option. "who taught you to be so weak? fight back." you immediately shielded yourself, his sword pressing against yours. his strength was unmatched.
blade pressured you to not give up, as if he wasn't already killing you slowly.
the fight between two people who were once peaceful, torn apart by fate. maybe, just maybe, in another life, they'd be able to freely love each other. there's no doubt that it would take long, after all, the worser fate than death is not being able to die.
your swords clashed, using your full strength to push him away from you. "stop.. pleas- fuck!" your arm ached, the same way your heart did.
i feel you forget me like i used to feel to breathe.
"waakee uuup~" you dragged the vowels on your tongue, kissing the white haired man sleeping soundly on your bed awake. feeling his hot breath against your face.
the sun shined brightly against his face, the face you would never get tired staring at. you could basically occupy yourself almost for an entire day just by admiring his pretty features.
"you're just wasting your time, don't you dare pity me any longer!" you screamed, furrowing your brows as you tossed your weapon aside, refusing to take part in this battle you know damn well you'd never win. the pain in your voice was easily noticed by the man before you, the grip he had on his weapon loosening. "pathetic. you know better than to prioritize your personal feelings over the battle ahead of you."
the rainstorm soon came to an end, just when you fucking needed it to conceal your tears you were so ashamed of showing. "you can't blame me, now can you? i'd rather you tear me to pieces than to live with the knowledge of you being my enemy."
"this is what we were destined to be, not even i could do anything to stop it for your radiance no longer leads my way." you wanted to scream the pain piercing your heart. your souls were bound to be against each other, and you gave yourself no right to accept such things.
blade walks away, refusing to see you suffer any longer than he could take. "i'd sacrifice anything just to feel your love again.." you whispered, loud enough for him to hear as clear as day.
"let go." was all he replied back, leaving you dumbfounded, your gaze stuck on his back as he disappeared into thin air.
you were willing to leave everything behind, give it all up just for him. but even that, he would never let you do such for his sake. for the love was there, but he simply refuses to be show vulnerability towards someone ever again, even to you.
your consciousness faded away, your body meeting the cold, wet ground. escaping reality to foolishly give the imaginary fragments of your mind indulge you for a while. considering that once you wake up, you'd have to face it all over again, as if it wouldn't kill you to live up to the fact that the probability of your relationship with him to be repaired was low, extremely.
"loving you was the most exquisite form of self destruction."
from xumi ; part 2 or nah? π€ reblogs r appreciated !!
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earlier i saw an Aventurine x reader smut fanfic in which the reader is his sister and i just had to SAY SOMETHING even if i expect no one to give a fuck
Its not the first time im seeing someone fetishize incest and write about it as if its normal? again with the disgusting non-con as well (but thats a different topic)
making a character a really disgusting person to fill their own sick fantasies and having the confidence to post it on here as if its something commonly accepted
that isnt the big issue tho, theres many sick people on the platform.
my problem with this is that i saw exactly 2 people, other than me who complained in the comments of that fanfic and expressed how disgusted they are, calling the author sick etc etc
it has over 150 likes at the moment, if you, reading this, remember reading it and enjoying it just know youre gross, sick and disgusting just like the author
im not the first and i wont be last person to talk about this but if you have weird fetishes that doesnt fucking mean you have to share them with others, hope this helps <3
i tell you when i saw that post my jaw was ON THE FLOOR
ive seen many weird fanfics but hey i had not seen an incest one in a while
before anyone says "its a trauma response" "people deal this way with trauma and SA" bs just know i do not give a fuck, you can deal with all the trauma you have in private! just like everyone else
non-con is weird as it is, but writing about incest? you are going too far and you have issues in the head, you dont have to share it and spread it on a platform where people may think this shit is normal
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming