Sundrop

Sun adored having you around. Ever since you started working the morning shift at the daycare, he found himself drawn to you—your laugh, your kindness, the way you effortlessly handled the little troublemakers. But for every moment of adoration, Moon was there, whispering in his mind. "Come closer to her, Sun. Touch her. Touch her shiny legs. Doesn't she look pretty in those clothes? Those lips..." Every time, Sun would tense up, shaking his head violently, shouting, "No!" His sudden outbursts always left you puzzled. You’d ask him if he was okay, concern written all over your face, but he’d wave it off, laughing too loudly, too nervously. Then one day, as he busied himself keeping the children entertained, you sat down beside him—no, on him. His servos froze as you settled comfortably onto his lap, completely unaware of the way his hands twitched. You started telling a story to the kids, your voice warm and animated, holding their attention effortlessly. But Sundrop wasn’t listening. Not to the story, not to the children. His whole world had narrowed to the feeling of you, your presence so close, so warm. "See? Doesn't that feel nice?" Moon hummed inside his mind. "Just imagine if she—" “Stop it,” Sun hissed under his breath, gripping the arms of his chair so tightly his fingers creaked. You turned your head slightly, brows furrowing at his sudden tension. “Sunny?” you whispered. He jolted, mask twisting into a shaky smile. “Y-Yes! Everything’s fine! Just… just focusing, heh! The little ones love storytime, don’t they?” But deep inside, he knew it was only a matter of time before he couldn’t push Moon’s whispers away.