sunderwool
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Angel’s curled on the couch, reading “Your Baby’s First Year”, or at least trying to. She keeps flipping between pages like it’s a codebook of some sort, one she has to decipher and thoroughly consume as if her life depends on it.
“‘Tummy time...’” She mutters. “What does that mean? Why is it time-specific? Is it an event? A warning?” You can just giggle at her antics.
“It just means letting her lie on her belly. Helps her strengthen her neck.” Angel frowns at that, deeply.
“She doesn’t need neck strength. She’ll have minions.”
“She’s seven weeks old.”
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no longer hiding// no longer repressing by sunderwool
Fandoms: KPop Demon Hunters (2025)
08 Jul 2025
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Zoey buried her face in Mira’s hair, all while Rumi kissed the top of her head, sealing promises after the press conference. There would be no more hiding. Certainly, no more shadows, no more stolen touches in dressing rooms or coded messages behind lyrics.
It was time for them to live loudly, and unafraid. They deserved that much, at least.
Still, when Zoey suggested a proper date that very same morning, like an actual public outing, Mira blinked like she’d been slapped.
"Like... outside? In daylight?" She asked, mouth half-open around a strawberry Pocky.
Zoey grinned. "Yeah. You, me, Rumi. A café, maybe. Or the boardwalk."
Rumi looked up from her phone, brows raised. "Oh, that’s bold. People would go insane, though."
"Good..." Zoey said, “...let them riot."(or, the one where their relationship gets leaked on social media and they decide to take matters upon themselves, be free, be honest......less repressed, more bacchic, if u catch my drift)
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They spar for the most part, even rotate partners. Mira and Rumi square off first – fast, fluid, teasingly competitive, but then the taller of the two pins Rumi down, before immediately helping her up with a tad too casual brush of slender fingers over her waist. In that moment, she wished she could hide behind her braids.
But then it’s Zoey and Mira and the room narrows. Their first clash is smooth. A sweep. A duck. A palm to the chest that lands softer than it should.
Zoey catches Mira’s wrist...and holds it for a few seconds.
“You're holding back.” Zoey muses, tightening her grip on the other girl’s wrist.
“And you’re distracted.” Mira adds, before sweeping her off her feet (literally), and sending her back on her butt.
They stare at each other for a breath too long, but Mira turns away a little too fast.
“Maybe we all need to cool off.” Mira grumbles, covering her face with the palm of her gloved hand.
Rumi steps in next, helping Zoey up before smirking at her. They circle each other like dancers. Or is it prey? Nobody could tell, really.
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You thought it was a date night. To say you were painfully unaware of her agony would be an understatement.
Nothing unusual – you knew how Angel had a thing for “surprise elegance”. It was in her veins, she just adored them, and you knew that all too well. Rooftop dinners. Private viewings. A yacht once, where she’d punched a paparazzi drone. You were sure you’ve fallen in love with her completely anew that time.
Tonight? It was a rooftop garden strung with fairy lights.
She greeted you in ivory silk, like a painting you weren’t allowed to touch. Her lipstick was faint, subtle, natural. Her hands were ice.
“You okay...?” You asked, kissing her cheek adoringly.
“Perfect.”
She was lying.
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You didn’t plan on staying the night.
You were supposed to swing by, drop something off, maybe share a drink, and go. But it’s Angel – and her suite smells like jasmine and something faintly sweet, like vanilla tucked in the corners of the air. Her eyes shine in that low, golden lamp light, like they’ve got secrets you want to be let in on. So it just… happens. You stay.
And by the time dawn spills soft and slow through her floor to ceiling windows, she’s tangled around you beneath a duvet that still carries the scent of her perfume – something floral, expensive, unplaceable. She breathes evenly, warm against your neck, like she doesn’t know where she ends and you begin.
You try to move, careful not to wake her, but Angel stirs anyway. Half-asleep, she murmurs:
“There’s fresh coffee. And one of the French news anchors is wearing the ugliest blazer I’ve ever seen. Stay. Let’s mock him together.”
So you do. Just for the morning.
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Recent series
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dating a serial killer (gone wrong) [not clickbait!!] by sunderwool
Fandom Killer Chat! (Visual Novel)
31 Mar 2026
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