onmysundaybest

[onmysundaybest]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 . . .

(📄) dish contains: jealousy (obviously) (sunday), fluff

(🖊️) owner note(s): aw man i made this on a saturday :(

©️onmysundaybest.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘’𝐬 selfish, greedy, and such a control freak…

…but inside him is a loving, caring boyfriend who you started dating out of your own free will; so really, what does that say about you?

it was night, the streets still busy as you were sitting with your beloved eating a quick dinner. it was a rather rare occurrence, but welcomed nonetheless.

peaceful conversations and periods of silence were exchanged, until—

“(y/n!)” someone called out behind you. turning your head, you see one of your longer-lasting friends rush up to greet you, wrapping his arms around you as you do the same.

sunday's wings twitch in annoyance.

“i've been swamped with so much work recently, we should find a day this week to hang out!” you say, stepping back from the embrace.

“not this week, love, remember?” sunday suddenly stands, placing a hand on your shoulder. “my schedule this week is freer than usual. i’m sure you two can meet up some other time.”

your friend freezes up at this.

you send a small glare at your love. “oh, that’s right. um, i promise we’ll schedule something soon. for now, would you like to eat with us?”

“actually, i’m still kind of busy… but it was nice talking to you again! i’ll see you around!” and he dashes off. the goodbye you meant to say died on your lips as you sighed and went back to sit. at least the seats outside were vacant, given it was near closing time. but still, the bystanders walking around certainly got a show.

well, now that he’s gone…

“sunday.”

“what is it, dear?” he faces you, innocent eyed and stoic faced, hinting at framing a confused look.

“don’t use that pet name on me. you know what you did.”

“it’s not my fault—”

“‘not my fault’ my a—”

“—it’s not my fault that he was being too touchy with you.”

you stop yourself from rolling your eyes before softly saying, “you were jealous.”

“how could i not be?” he said in return, intertwining your fingers together.

you kiss his cheek. then, cupping his face with your other hand, you let your lips rest on his. you feel him begin to smile before he uses his free hand to pull you closer.

when you separate, you can’t help but gaze into those golden, hazy eyes of his with the light— very light— dust of red adorning his face.

“better?” you whisper.

“not quite.”

[onmysundaybest]

“𝕴𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖓 𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖐, 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖍 𝖌𝖔𝖉 𝖉𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖊?”

quote: — 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 (𝘩𝘴𝘳)

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