13 Works by sunderwool
Listing Works
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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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You counted to three. After that? Chaos.
It was brief. Efficient. Loud in that quiet way bullets are when they're suppressed but not polite, and by the time it was over, Angel had taken down two men with the same precision she used to apply winged eyeliner. Then, as she reloaded, breathless and beautiful and furious, and god, you were so in love with her. You sighed, dreamily, before she muttered:
“God, I hope our kids never see this. ”
You blinked.
“...What?”
Angel froze, her hands stalled over the magazine. You watched it happen in real-time: the exact moment her brain caught up with her mouth, the exact damn moment she went still, like prey.Series
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Your fingers trail down the smooth line of her back, catching on the tiny zipper of her dress, tracing the fragile vertebrae beneath skin gone warm from adrenaline, and maybe one too many drinks. She shudders, just barely, a flicker of breath catching in her throat like it surprised even her.
“You’re playing with fire.” You whisper, leaning in, your voice a breath against her neck. Angel doesn’t pull back, doesn’t even blink, her mouth just brushes yours – open, daring, the curve of a smirk blooming right against your lips.
“Mi vida, ” She murmurs, eyes burning, “I am the fire.”
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Angel vs the biggest threat known to woman by sunderwool
Fandoms: Killer Chat! (Visual Novel)
14 Jun 2025
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Maria de la Rosa, the impossibly poised, glamorously dangerous fashion goddess, is now faced with her most terrifying challenge yet…..
…a baby.
And no, it’s not a metaphor, not a spy code, but an actual, wiggly, soft-headed, non-verbal gremlin that gurgles and has no tactical training.It sneezes.
She panics.
You laugh.
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She wants to impress them, and god, she tries so hard...
...But there’s a taxidermy falcon on the mantle.
And an antique sword over the dining table.
And your dad just asked why there are “six different emergency exits.”Series
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brunch, with a side of murderous intent by sunderwool
Fandoms: Killer Chat! (Visual Novel)
09 Jun 2025
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Maria de la Rosa vs. your parents (brunch edition), served cold on a tray of mimosas, passive-aggression, and Angel’s eye twitching so hard she nearly slips and falls knives first into your mother. Pure chaos sprinkled with fluff, mixed with sharp tongues, even sharper concealed weapons, and the soft realization that love sometimes means not stabbing your future in-laws... who would've thought?
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You were nervous.
Despite not eating much throughout the day - by choice, of course, definitely not because of the paralyzing waves of nausea that washed over you every time you were reminded that in a few hours, you’d be interviewing Maria de la Rosa, one of two women you’d happily allow to strangle you - Oh God. You’re becoming one of them, the esteemed members of the Slaughterhouse server. You shiver at the thought, shooing it away with one quick prayer aimed at no one in particular. God forsook you years ago when you first typed “girls kissing” in the Youtube search bar.
You sigh, looking down at your obviously new attire that you hoped Maria would not notice was bought just for today’s interview. Then your computer’s screen adopts a familiar shade of blue, and you physically feel your amygdala coming close to combusting.
//or alternatively;
you love her so deeply that even her flaws became poetry-lines you memorized without ever needing to forgive -
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Sighing, she made her way towards the main lobby, searching the clothing racks placed by the door until her beige coat came into view. She put it on begrudgingly before checking her phone. According to Miss Bustier, they had to be in their assigned rooms by 9 o’ clock, which left her around one hour to do whatever it is that she could do to clear her head. Maybe a walk under the cold night sky wouldn’t be so bad. 'Good exercise for when I will finally get to be Queen Bee again.' She grimaced. 'If'. That matter was entirely up to Ladybug nowadays. Not that she held it against her, she definitely did not, not after everything that happened. Chloé just shrugged the thought off, even she knew thinking about the past wouldn’t do her any good. It didn’t matter anymore, perhaps it never did.
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Algebra, she was here for algebra – Kagami reminded herself. Even so, she didn’t protest when Marinette softly pushed her onto the mattress. Not that she could anyway. The small gasp that escaped her mouth when her girlfriend traced the seams of her lips showed exactly how “opposed” she was.
Marinette just knowingly smiled against her lips.