Sunday lay in bed with Lucifer draped over her like a human weighted blanket, his broad frame pressing her into the plush mattress. She didn't mind-his weight felt comforting, grounding. Her fingers moved absentmindedly along his bare back, tracing the intricate tattoos that decorated his smooth skin. Her nails scratched gently, eliciting a soft hum of approval from him.

Lucifer rested his cheek against her chest, his arms wrapped securely around her waist as if she might disappear if he let go. He listened to the sound of her voice as she rambled on about something trivial, though he didn't care much for the topic. It was her voice that mattered, the way it rose and fell, carrying the same warmth that always managed to soothe him.

Her free hand drifted up to his head, brushing over the short hair of his fresh taper. She ran her fingers along his scalp, pausing occasionally to graze the stubble of his goatee and jawline. It was an absentminded gesture, but to him, it felt like a form of worship.

Lucifer closed his eyes, his lips brushing against the bare skin of her collarbone as he murmured, "I'm gonna marry you one day."

Sunday froze for a moment, her hands halting mid-motion. "What?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with surprise.

He shifted slightly, propping himself up just enough to look at her. His deep brown eyes met hers, filled with a sincerity that made her chest tighten. "I said, I'm gonna marry you one day, Sunday."

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, she blinked at him, her heart racing as his words settled in her mind.

Lucifer chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "Don't look so shocked, princess. You didn't think I was just playin' house with you, did you?"

Sunday shook her head quickly, her curls brushing against the pillow beneath her. "No, I just-" She paused, a soft smile spreading across her face. "You caught me off guard, that's all."

Lucifer smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. It was slow and lingering, filled with all the unspoken emotions he didn't know how to put into words. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"You're it for me, Sunday. Ain't no one else. I've known that for a while now."

Her smile widened, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You're it for me too, Z," she whispered back.

For a while, they stayed like that, tangled up in each other, the world outside forgotten. Sunday continued to trace the patterns of his tattoos, marveling at the details she had memorized over the months they'd been together. She knew each line, each curve, and she loved how the ink told a story of who he was.

"Tell me about this one again," she said, her fingers brushing over a small, intricate design on his shoulder.

Lucifer glanced at where her hand rested and smiled faintly. "That's for my moms," he said, his voice soft. "She used to love sunflowers, so I got one done for her. It's small, but it's my way of keepin' her close, you know?"

Sunday nodded, her chest aching at the thought of the pain he must've felt losing his parents so young. "It's beautiful," she murmured.

"Thanks, mama," he said, leaning down to kiss her temple.

They continued like that, Sunday asking about his tattoos and Lucifer answering, his deep voice carrying the stories of his past. She loved these moments with him, the quiet intimacy that made her feel like she was the only person in the world who truly knew him.

Eventually, their conversation drifted to lighter topics, and Sunday found herself rambling again about a funny video her sister Demitra had sent her earlier. Lucifer listened with a small smile, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her hip as she talked.

"You're so cute when you get excited," he said, interrupting her mid-sentence.

She rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed with warmth. "Don't distract me. I'm telling a story."

He laughed, the sound deep and rich. "My bad, princess. Continue."

By the time the night had fully settled in, they were both dozing off, their limbs tangled together under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Lucifer held her close, his face buried in the crook of her neck as he murmured one last thing before sleep claimed him.

"Goodnight, future Mrs. Kensington."

Sunday's heart swelled, and she pressed a kiss to his temple. "Goodnight, my love."

And with that, they drifted off into a peaceful sleep, their dreams filled with the promise of a future they were already building together.