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[RULES ARE UNDER THE CUT. READ THEM BEFORE REQUESTING]
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PRO-SHIPPERS DNI - You are not welcome here
Do NOT use my content for AI training or recreation (this includes C.AI or any other variation). I am heavily against AI, which means I will not be using it for my own work, and I do not want my work to be used to train it. That counts as theft.
Just here for fun. This account is strictly 18+ (mdni) and not for men. I only write smut/smutty-themed stuff here. I typically write the reader as submissive unless requested otherwise. I only write female g!p characters x non-g!p female reader.
Characters, masterlists, and rules are below, but just know I don’t have to write a request just because it was sent in. I can refuse a request for any reason. Like I said above, I’m only here for fun.
Don’t like what I write? Just block me and keep scrolling. I promise you’ll find something you like beyond my posts.
Want to find my stories without having to scroll through unrelated asks? Click the tag “posts by lvsting-in-silence,” and if you want to see if I’ve answered an ask of yours, click the tag “lvsting-in-silence - unrelated content.” Both tags are on this post.
Characters
Rumi (KPDH)
Mira (KPDH)
Zoey (KPDH)
Celine (KPDH)
Dollface (The Strangers Prey at Night)
Cassandra Gothel (TTS)
Lara Croft (Survivor)
Lute (Hazbin Hotel)
Donna Beneviento (RE8)
Kang Sae-byeok (Squid Game)
What I Will Write
(Strictly) Consensual somnophilia, breeding kink, bondage, edging/orgasm control, cuck kink (only with listed characters), (protected sex) pregnancy fics, etc.
Cockwarming
Small age gaps (no more than 10 years depending on the age of the character being written for)
Jealousy/"claiming" fics (not omegaverse)
Multiple female characters x female reader (i.e. Polytrix x female reader (together or separately))
g!p female character(s) x non-g!p female reader
What I Won't Write
Omegaverse
Huge age gaps (more than 10 years)
Minor characters/minor x adult
Incest/familial themed characters x each other/reader (i.e. I will not be writing Celine as being involved with Polytrix in any way)
Cheating
Male characters/male readers/gender neutral readers
Rape/non-consensual/consensual-non-consensual
Brutality, homophobia, transphobia, sexism, racism, fatphobia, etc.
Piss kinks, spit kinks, knife play, blood kinks, etc.
Characters that I don't have listed on this post
Non-g!p female characters
g!p female reader
Feel free to leave a request if you have one. If you need clarification for anything listed here (i.e. if a specific kink isn't listed and you want to see if I'm fine with writing it), send in an ask to check in.
Also, to the anon who said they’d be willing to be a beta reader/proofreader for the Celine fics: I’ve thought about it for a bit, and I think that would actually be really helpful.
Finally sitting down to rewatch season one of Squid Game so I can write part two of ‘Shouldn’t Have To’ as promised.
Quick question though:
How many parts in total should I go for?
Two
Three
Voting ended onAug 8
Only asking because I know part one was an insanely long fic compared to my usual ones (still can’t believe I wrote 10k in one sitting😭), so idk if y’all would want it split into smaller (and easier to digest) parts, or just have them be the same length as the first one. Lmk.
You eye her, a strange familiarity flooding your mind slowly as you take in her features. Even with sunken eyes and cheeks, scratches and scars littered across her skin, and pure terror faintly visible behind her facade of an angry exterior, it was hard to shake the feeling that you knew her from somewhere.
How could you have known her? You were hardly permitted to leave the castle most days, and you were sure she wasn't one of the servants given her worrying physique and her tattered attire.
Maybe you had met her at an event, and she was simply the servant from another kingdom. If such was the case, you harbored no respect for whichever royal family starved the woman. Despite the long sleeves of her oversized chemise shirt — which efficiently hid the majority of her torso's shape as well — the borderline anemic look of her face was enough to tell you she hadn't been eating well.
If she was from another kingdom, it was clear they had no intention of hiding how she was treated. That, or she had been without a means of living for what you could assume were years.
Your heart grows heavy at the thought of her starving for who knows how long. If your father weren't such a tyrant, you'd beg him to provide food for all, but you knew he was not that kind of man. As kindly as he treated you and your mother, the same tenderness and grace was rarely offered to anyone considered to be beneath him.
Perhaps, if you could piece together how you knew this woman, you could convince him to spare her.
Slowly, and with much less of a grip, you turn her head to the left, eyes raking over her pronounced cheekbones and shapely jaw before repeating the action to view the opposite side of her face.
You don't bring attention to it, but you can feel her eyes on you — feel the tightness in her jaw even with your feather-like hold on her chin.
She refuses to look anywhere else, unsure of what you plan to do with her. You're much gentler than your father, that much she can tell with just a simple act, but you're still royalty. Royal pricks never cared for her before, why would they now?
While your fingers slide to cup her jaw properly, she can still feel the sting from where the king had been clutching her just a moment before, and she wonders if you can see the redness on her skin from his hand.
She tries to gather the courage to speak, even with knowing that speaking without the royal family's express permission is forbidden. Just as she finds the will to part her lips, your eyes widen. "It's you," you whisper, and she just stares, terrified, expectant of an elaboration.
"You saved me from those horrid thugs all those months ago. Do you recall that night? You're the very reason I'm still here today." The words only flood her with heavier confusion. She saved you? When had she done that?
Surely she would remember swooping in to save the princess. You always wore extravagant dresses and jewelry wherever you went. There was no chance she could forget rescuing one of the few people who stood out from the rest.
You kneel before her, a sight that brings the eyes of everyone back to you, and you plant your hands firmly on her shoulders with a dazzling smile on your lips.
"I'd been disguised in common garb to fit in and not draw attention to myself. I'd wandered near an alleyway without proper lighting, and two towering men pulled me in. They'd just pulled a blade from their persons before you stepped in and fought them off, and once you were sure I was safe, you talked to me for some time before I left."
As your recollection reaches her ears, it's her turn to gawk with wide eyes. That had been you? You looked nothing like you did now. How clever of a disguise it must've been.
"I've been thinking fondly on those words you shared with me before we departed from one another. I hope what I gave you in return was enough to feed you for some time, although I worry it wasn't enough."
It was enough, at least until a known thief in the area swiped the bag of coins from her whilst her guard was down and disappeared into the night. The thought still infuriates her. Had she just been more cautious, she could've easily kept herself, Mi-yeong, and Tae-hee fed for a good few months.
Instead, they'd been forced to resort to old ways after only a week of being fed. That was how she wound up in front of you again.
Staring at you now, she isn't sure if it's a good or bad thing that the plan had failed.
"I know of a better way to repay you now that I've met you here. Guards," your right hand lifts and motions for the two closest guards to step forward. "Please free her from these shackles. She'll be staying here as a welcome guest for the time being."
Wood tears against the stone floor as your father rises once again. "I will not allow such a thing," he bellows. "This unsightly woman trespassed on our grounds and broke into our home with the intention to steal whatever she could get her filthy hands on! I forbid her stay."
You rise, turning to your father and narrowing your eyes his way. "If this woman hadn't stepped in and fought valiantly on my behalf, I would not be standing here for you to forbid my order. You've reminded me many a time that I'll rule this kingdom one day and should grow accustomed to making decisions in the interests of our people. If you stand by your word, then this shall be my first order as future queen."
He bristles at your words — at your attack on his own insistence that you learn to lead — and your mother smiles. "Do you mistrust my judgment, father? I've only you and mother to learn from."
Celine fights back the tears she can feel stinging the corners of her eyes when the king's gaze lands on her. She wishes he would look anywhere else.
She knew of him — knew of his cruelty towards folks like her. Even with your blunt hit to his ego, she knew you were only sparing her time. No matter what you told him, he'd wind up throwing her away to rot in jail.
Still, she forces herself to meet his eye, not wanting him to assume she's weak or that she fears him, although the tremor rippling through her limbs is enough to prove to herself that she does in fact fear him.
It seems he tries desperately to scramble for a way to refute your decision once again, but any argument falls flat before it reaches his tongue. With a gruff sigh, he drops stiffly into his chair. "Very well," he grumbles after a beat. Celine is sure her eyes are wide enough to cover half of her face. He had… listened to you? "But should anything come from this, it will fall on your shoulders alone, and you'll be made to fix whatever breaks."
You only nod before turning to Celine again. The guards step behind her and make steady work to unshackle her wrists. Once they're free and she pulls them to the front of her body, you take her hands into your own and help her to her feet. "We welcome you to our home," you assure her. "Come. I'll show you to your room. Dinner has already been served, but I'll ask the cooks to prepare you a plate."
The only reason she moves forward with you is because you're guiding her. Had you left her there and simply asked her to follow you, she would've been too frozen in shock to budge.
What on earth is happening right now?
She broke into your home with the clear intention of stealing, and instead of throwing her in jail and degrading her the way anyone else would have done, you were providing her with food and shelter?
She had to have hit her head too hard when the guards tackled her to the ground. There's no way this is real life.
She doesn't want to ruin it though, so she keeps her lips sealed as she follows you out of the room, taking note of the gentle hold you have on her arm. You walk all the way down the hall before finally letting her go at the base of the stairs. As the two of you start to ascend, you turn to her, an uneasy smile on your lips. "I'm terribly sorry for that. My father is," you pause, taking a breath to find the right words. "Difficult."
Celine scoffs and rolls her eyes. Difficult isn't the word she'd use. She's sure she would be thrown down the steps if she says what she truly thinks of him though. You pay no mind to her reaction and simply carry on. By the time you've finally made it to the top, she's out of breath, her weakened body desperate to lie down and rest. That's when you meander to a large set of doors just a few feet away and push one of them open.
"Here we are. Feel free to make yourself comfortable while I head down to the kitchen. Once you've eaten, we can get you washed up and fitted into clean clothes." There's no response to your words. She walks past you into the room and stands there, gawking at the size of it alone. It's larger than her entire house was as a child. Is every room like this? What could you possibly need so much space for?
She turns back to the door, planning to ask what's on her mind, but she's only greeted by an empty space where you were just a moment prior. Her ears finally catch the sound of heels heading farther away, and she registers that you told her you were going to the kitchen. The thought makes her stomach rumble loud enough to echo in the room, and she hisses at the throbbing pain in her gut.
She has no idea what kind of food you're going to bring her. She doesn't know if it'll be poisoned, and she doesn't know if she's going to have eyes on her while she eats. Regardless, she doesn't know if she's going to be able to stop herself from devouring whatever's on the plate. She can't remember the last time she ate a proper meal.
She can't remember the last time Tae-hee or Mi-yeong ate a proper meal either.
Her hand flies to her hip where her satchel had been, only to find that one of the guards had apparently seized it at some point. If she had to guess, she would say they tugged it off as they yanked her up from the floor. "Merde," she whispers. She has absolutely no idea how she's going to get it back. She has to find out where it is first.
Maybe she'll be able to ask you to find it for her. Even with her reservations against you and your family, she can easily tell that you're one who hopes to please your guests. If anyone here is going to help her out, it's you.
She takes a deep breath and runs her calloused hands down her face. The last thing she wants to do is play nice with someone from a family she loathes more than anything, but it might be her only option right now, so she does her best to shove her pride aside and rehearse how to bring it up.
Her feet swing forward separately and she begins to pace the room. The pain in her stomach is accompanied by another growl after a few steps, and she scoffs, wrapping her arms around her gut and sinking her fingers into her tattered shirt. The pain is starting to get so severe that it feels like she's drank poison, and she's half tempted to find the kitchen and eat whatever she can get her hands on instead of waiting for you to get back.
Thankfully, she hears footsteps nearing the doorway, and she turns as a figure emerges into her line of sight. You stand there now with a large tray in your hands, a small smile on your face, and something tucked into the inner crease of your elbow. The smell of the food is heavenly, and her gut makes its excitement known.
"There's a table on the balcony. We could move it in here though, if you'd prefer a bit of privacy." She's nodding instead of speaking, her pacing slowing to a halt and her eyes watching as you walk to the arched door at the opposite end of the room. You nod your head towards it, unable to properly do anything with your hands.
She huffs and stifles a groan as another agonizing jolt ripples through her stomach. Quickly, she walks to the doorway and tugs it open, forcing herself to focus on the task instead of her starvation. Her hands grab either end of the small, round table's top and pull upwards, allowing her to carry it back into the room. She chooses to set it in the nearest corner.
As the strain she had put on her weakened body forces her to catch her breath, you walk to the side and set the tray down. Noticing her struggle, you pat her shoulder, which makes her bristle and step away. "Sorry," you whisper. You can't even begin to imagine what horrors she had seen while living on the street. If those thugs she had saved you from were the least of her worries like she'd claimed, then you could only wonder what bigger threats she had faced.
"I'll get your chair." It takes a few seconds for you to head onto the balcony to retrieve one of the cushioned seats. When you return, you nudge the door shut with your foot and hip, then set up the chair and wait for her to sit. She does so almost instantly, though she doesn't tear into the food the way you expected.
Instead, she eyes both you and the food cautiously. It was taking every ounce of strength not to start eating to ease the throbbing she felt in her stomach, but she knows there's a chance you're only putting on a friendly front. Maybe you're more clever than you seem. Maybe you're trying to get her guard down so poisoning her is that much easier.
You can see the uneasiness in her eyes, and you stare back with confusion. "Is everything alright? I could get you something else, if you'd prefer." Her eyes lower to the plates and bowls packed full of food in front of her. Nothing looks oddly colored, and nothing smells suspicious, but there are plenty of ways to lace something without it being obvious.
After all, that's why it had taken so long to figure out what had killed her mother when she was still a child.
She still doesn't make any attempt at grabbing the utensils.
Are you going to poison her? Even if you haven't laced the food with anything, that didn't eliminate the risk. The kitchen staff could've mixed something in. Anyone you could've bumped into on the way back could've sprinkled something in if they somehow distracted you. Is she going to be okay if she eats this?
She wants to so badly. It smells so good, and her stomach hurts so bad, but she's scared. If she doesn't get the chance to go back, Mi-yeong and Tae-hee will struggle even more than they already do, and she doesn't want that to happen.
"Oh," you blurt, snapping her out of her thoughts. She cranes her neck to eye you again, and you grab what's still dangling on your arm. "Here. I found this on the way to the kitchen and asked some of the guards about it. They said it belongs to you."
There, in your now outstretched hand, is her satchel.
She doesn't have to ask you about it after all.
Quicker than she means to, she rips it from your grasp, instantly opening it and digging inside to check that her few valuables are still there. To her relief, they are. With a sigh, she settles it into her lap and closes her eyes.
"It does belong to you then?" You check, and you earn a weak nod. "Yes," is all she murmurs.
"I'm glad I found it in that case." For a second longer, you wait to see if she'll start eating. When she doesn't, you begin walking to the bedroom door. "I'll leave you be so you can eat in peace. I'll come by again shortly to see if you're finished so we can get you bathed and into clean clothes."
She doesn't turn to you, only listens until the door clicks shut, and suddenly she's alone in a place she doesn't know with food she isn't sure she can eat.
If she eats this and it's poisoned, there stands a good chance she won't get to make it back to the others. The last thing she wants to do is leave them behind.
But it's so painful denying herself something her body craves so badly — something that keeps her alive.
With a tremble in her hand, she reaches towards one of the closer plates, lifting it slowly and bringing it near her face to let the aroma waft through her senses. She has to pinch her eyes shut when her stomach rumbles again at the smell.
It doesn't smell odd, but that doesn't mean anything to the fear bubbling under her skin. She sets the plate back onto the table and grabs a fork, which is then pierced through a few shells of pasta topped with grated cheese. Even before she brings it to her lips, she begins salivating. The bite is slow, measured, and spiking nerves each time her jaw and teeth work together to move and grind it into something smaller.
Instantly, she's greeted with a mouthful of flavor, nothing like the plain bread and occasional fruit she and the others manage to swipe from merchants every few days. There are certainly spices mixed into whatever kind of pasta this is, none of which she can name, but she suddenly finds herself eating faster and faster, the desire to fill her belly for the first time in years overpowering her prior reservations.
It doesn't take long for her to clear off the first plate, nor the second, the third, or the fourth, and the bowls of soup and porridge disappear just as quickly. Her eyes land on a pitcher as she takes her final bite, and her hands are reaching for it before her brain can process what it is.
So many different salts and other spices had been used for every dish, and she finds her thirst has grown borderline insatiable.
Immediately quenching that thirst becomes easy as she downs what's in the pitcher — it's simply water, nothing special, but she isn't about to complain. She ignores the drops that slowly seep into her shirt in favor of finishing it all.
And that she does.
Within mere seconds, she's staring at the empty bottom of the pitcher, panting heavily as she sets it down and uses her sleeve to wipe off her mouth, chin, and neck. While recovering and letting everything settle, she leans back against the chair and closes her eyes, fingers focusing on grazing over the satchel to stop her from falling asleep.
The door creaks open shortly after, and she blearily looks over to find you walking back in. "Apologies, I just forgot to ask if you—" You stop once you're close enough to see the emptiness on the tray. You can't help the way your brows lift at the sight. "Oh." You only left ten minutes before.
"You must've been starving."
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn't speak.
A moment passes before you clear your throat. "I just wanted to ask if you had any preferences for what you'd like to wear." She only continues to stare, and you start to shift your weight between your feet, fingers rolling the fabric of your sleeves' cuffs as your eyes land back on the tray. "As in… are there any fabrics you'd like? Or a particular color?" Your hand motions towards her, her flinch at the action going unnoticed by your uneasy eyes.
"Maybe you'd prefer a dress, or perhaps some size-appropriate trousers and a blouse? Those ones you're wearing now seem awfully big on you." For the first time since you walked in, her eyes lower to glance over herself. You aren't wrong. They are too big for her, but that's only because they aren't hers.
They belonged to a man — a random civilian she knows nothing about. He went away on business some time ago, and after ensuring his home was empty after he took his leave, she snuck in and searched for whatever she could find that was of value.
Unfortunately, other than a few spare coins in the nightstand by his bed and a single loaf of bread from the kitchen cupboard, all she found that could be handy was a pair of his clothes tucked away in the wardrobe. Hers had been torn from years of petty squabbles and sleeping on the ground. The rips made it harder than it already was to stay warm, especially during windstorms and rain.
She couldn't resist the opportunity to replace them when it was presented right in front of her. Without an ounce of hesitation, she had switched into the newer set, then promptly fled the house, her loot and old clothes in hand. They might've been baggy on her, but it was a welcome difference that kept her relatively comfortable when the temperature dropped.
"I have nothing to give you," she blurts, eyeing you once more. You tilt your head, a gentle hum on your lips. "There's nothing I could possibly give you in return. You surely know that, given the state of me, so what are you expecting if I take your offer? Another servant?" She scoffs. "If that's what you assume will come of this, I'll have you know I service no one, especially the spoiled brat of this family."
The sting of her words seeps into you immediately, and you take a few steps back. A spoiled brat? Is that really how she sees you?
You shake your head and wave your hands dismissively. "No! No, of course not. I don't expect anything in return, I just…" One of her brows lift as you fight to find the right words. She watches your hands grab at each other and the sweat that beads up against your skin, and she can't help but think it's almost amusing to see a royal so frazzled, especially so up close. The corners of her lips perk up faintly, but she wrestles with herself not to let it show.
You're the princess — one of the most spoiled people in the entire kingdom. You knew nothing of the atrocities people like her had faced. Your life was laden with fine silks, gold, and a guaranteed meal every single day, and your family was the entire reason why no one else got to experience such luxury.
You will not pull a smile from her.
"I couldn't stand seeing how my father treated you."
She blinks, head lifting just a little more.
"I know this isn't enough to make up for what he's done, but I hope it's something." You sigh, arms wrapping over to hug yourself loosely. "I'm sorry about him, by the way. I'm more than aware that he's wrong about so many things, but no matter what I try to convince him that things must change, he won't listen to me. He says I'm far too young to understand the weight of his position, all while expecting me to be a natural leader myself."
Slowly, you inch forward. "But maybe, with you here, I can learn more. Maybe you and I can find a way to convince him to help the people."
"If I wasn't aware of how deadly she can be, I'd almost say she looks cute right now," Allison mused. Celine, rested on her stomach and chest with her head propped up on the railing, watched you from above, her tail swaying in a manner that suggested interest. The small microphone planted into the wall barely picked up on the gentle purring that rumbled in the back of her throat.
To her, you were the most fascinating being she had ever seen.
Granted, she hadn't been able to see many humans that weren't there to keep holding her captive, but that didn't change the fact that you pulled every thought of hers back to you.
It hadn't even been a full month since you'd arrived, and yet she felt more comfortable with you than anyone else she had ever met before.
She hoped you felt the same about her.
Maybe, if she provided for you the way her instincts urged her to do, you'd start to warm up to the idea that she'd make a good mate. What was there to provide, though? All of the food and water was sent in automatically, the room was climate controlled, there was no fear of harsh weather or a dangerous predator — what the hell could she provide for you?
Company?
That's pathetic. You deserved more than that. You deserved better than that.
Maybe warmth? Solace? Security?
You'd defended her from her captors that day you first came in, but she wouldn't be granted that same opportunity. They were there to keep her in chains. You were free to go whenever you liked, and she knew that, but that also meant that — unless you stepped out of line — they wouldn't lay their hands on you.
Note || I'll share more sneak peeks of each AU from now on
"I know she means a lot to you, but surely you could've held back a bit? Maybe subdued the guy until we figured something out?"
"I already lost her once, Rumi," her tone lowered to a snarl, as it often did when she was buried in layers of fury, and it offered no room for further argument. It wasn't clear if her anger was directed towards Rumi or herself. Eyes still fixed on the rim of the half-empty mug, they squinted, now glossed over and carrying every flash of regret that flooded her body.
She fought against herself, wrestling briefly with her strength to steady her voice again.
"I lost her for over twenty years, and it was solely because of my own fears. My cowardice. I refuse to let that be the reason I lose her again."
Something seemed to settle in her mind. Slowly, the tension in her hands faded, fingers nearly falling slack against the sides of the cup. When she spoke again, her voice was low, soft, and free of its prior grit.
"She's been kind enough to let us stay here with her. To let me stay here with her. She's taken the three of you in like it was nothing. She deserves far better than a coward, especially if that coward has taken up space in her own home."
Rumi only stared, unsure of what she could say. Surely Celine knew that what she had done was wrong. The woman had raised her, taught her everything she knew, helped her find her morals even when she was at her lowest. How had that same woman nearly killed a man without an ounce of hesitation?
Briefly, she let her mind wander, considering what she would do if she was ever in the same situation. If Mira or Zoey were ever in your position, would she jump to their aid the exact way Celine had done? She already knew they would do that for her.
Yes.
Yes, she supposed she would do the same.
No, she knew she would do the same.
Maybe Celine had done the right thing, even if it wasn't handled in the best way. She said he had tried to kill you. If that was true — if she hadn't severely misread the situation somehow — then jumping to your defense was the only logical thing to do.
"I mean, I get it," she offered upon her reflection. Celine didn't look up at her, but Rumi knew she was listening. She always was. "I can't say I would do things differently, but you are going to have to give a statement to cover your tracks. The guy might try to rat you out once he wakes back up." A low chuckle slipped from the older woman's lips. "I know a few people who could prevent that."
"Celine—"
"Morning," your voice interrupted, soft and laced with exhaustion. You stepped into the kitchen with a hand rubbing your eye. When you came to stand on the opposite end of the island where Celine and Rumi were, you glanced at them, attention mainly on the youngest of the two. "Good morning," Rumi answered with a small smile.
You turned to find Mira and Zoey already seated in their usual spots at the dining table. They waved at you, you waved back, and you moved around to gather a few ingredients from the fridge and cabinets.
Celine watched as you did so, her uneasiness clear as day on her face. You seemed so calm. How could you be so calm after what happened?
Slowly, her eyes drifted to your back — to the space between your shoulder blades — watching with apparent fascination as your nightshirt shifted with your every movement. Anything to keep her mind from the inevitable argument that would spark to life if she mentioned the night before.
The stitched-on patterns warped with the fabric while you turned on the stove. Shortly after, you shuffled to the counter just beside it to begin mixing something in a bowl.
"I didn't mean to oversleep," you yawned out as an apology. Rumi hummed. "No worries. We only got up a few minutes ago ourselves. Last night kinda drained us."
Celine glared at her from the corner of her eye at the mention of it. Why would she bring that up? Was she trying to upset you?
Her fingers once again squeezed the body of the mug as she braced herself for you to turn around and sneer at her. A silent clearing of her throat was the only sound she could muster, her jaw clenching, and she forced herself to stare back into the cup.
"Figured you three would be used to that kind of adrenaline," you replied with a laugh, dumping and scraping the ingredients into a pot and setting it on the burner.
With your back turned, you couldn't see the way everyone's heads turned to you in less than a second. How could you be so okay with it?
"To be fair, even the stuff we are used to dealing with takes us out sometimes," Zoey eventually offered after a stretch of silence. Mira nodded beside her and watched while you continued to prepare breakfast. "Yeah, even idol work."
Snickering, Zoey elbowed the taller woman's arm. "We only get tired from that because of how hard you are on us with the choreography."
A playful roll of the eyes, followed by a smirk, and Mira shrugged with a hand held up in mock defense. "Hey, it's not my fault that you and Rumi have two left feet sometimes."
Now Rumi turned to her, hand planted to her chest as she and Zoey gasped. "How dare you? My coordination is perfect," she bit back with no real conviction in her voice. "Says the one who tripped and fell flat on her face during a spin for one of the easiest dances," Mira retorted.
"That was six years ago!" Rumi wailed before promptly burying her head in her hands. "Why won't you just let that go?"
"Because it makes for great blackmail. I could always tell people about it when we have to go on for an interview." Zoey huffed. "You'd out her like that on live television?" Mira's grin only widened. "Maybe. Depends."
"On what?"
"Whether or not she lets me pick what to eat when we go out."
"You'd put her dignity on the line for control over what we eat?"
"Oh, absolutely."
A gentle laugh interrupted the playful fight, and everyone's attention was once again on you. "Well, Rumi, you don't have to worry about being exploited for that here. If it makes you feel any better, I wasn't exactly the best dancer back during my idol days."
"What?" Zoey chimed in, voice rising a bit higher than she meant for it to. "But I've seen your performances! You were great!"
"Maybe that's how it looked onstage," you replied, still grinning, "but it was a completely different story during rehearsals. I got scolded so many times that I eventually lost count."
"By your instructor?" Mira asked. "Yes, but the other dancers made fun of me too. It was honestly a relief when I left the industry. I didn't have to worry about making a fool of myself behind the scenes anymore."
"They made fun of you?" Celine asked without thinking, instantly bristling at the sound of her own voice — which was laced with a sense of frustration at the idea of someone doing such a thing. Never mind the fact it had happened over twenty years ago. You didn't turn to her, but you hummed. "Yeah. A lot." You shook your head and sighed, bringing your focus back to the meal now partially ready. "It doesn't matter now though. It's been a long time since thinking about those days has actually bothered me."
That was good, Celine supposed, but it didn't change how she felt knowing about it now. She was tempted to search through the records at the old studio and pull some strings to figure out who the dancers were. If they were still alive, they'd wish they weren't.
It was a wonder that her mug hadn't shattered from the tightness of her grip. The only reason she finally let go of the trembling cup was because Rumi placed a gentle hand on one of her own. They shared a look, and it seemed that Rumi understood, mouthing the word "breathe" to her before turning back to you.
"Speaking of dancing, did you keep up with it after you retired?" She asked, instantly tensing before clearing her throat. "Well, after you moved out," she clarified, and Celine's head dipped lower.
You laughed and shook your head, stirring something over in the pot. "Oh, no, definitely not. I still sing sometimes, but that's pretty much the only thing from my idol days that I held onto. I think I'd break a hip if I tried to dance the way I did back then." Rumi snickered. "You're not that old. I'm sure you'd be fine."
A shrug, then you sprinkled in a few spices. "Maybe. I'd have to warm up a lot though, and I don't know if I'm up for that either." Rumi circled the island to stand beside you. "I mean, you seem like you're still agile enough even without warm ups. You managed to keep up with Zoey out in the backyard the other day. Mira and I couldn't even do that." From across the room, Zoey nodded. "Yeah, I bet you'd still be a good dancer." She gasped, a hand flying to squeeze Mira's shoulder.
"Oh, we should find one of the old choreography routines you used to do! We could all do it together," she suggested. Rumi grinned and glanced over at the two before focusing back on you and leaning in. "If you say yes, don't be surprised when it ends up becoming an entirely different dance. Mira will change the whole thing." Mira's head perked up and she scoffed. "Not my fault I have better ideas."
Your hand fell onto Rumi's arm before the bickering could continue, and you motioned towards the plates stacked to the side. She handed them to you one by one, and once three of them were served with food, she carried them to the dining table and set them down in front of Mira and Zoey before moving to her own spot.
Celine smiled at them as they instantly began their light argument again. She shook her head with a roll of her eyes and finally let herself take a sip of her drink. She thought back to the playful arguments she used to have with you, Tae-hee, and Mi-yeong, and although the memories were full of warmth, it didn't stop the ache that filled her chest.
God, she missed those days.
Another sip settled her mind and brought out a soft sigh. There would be a better time and place to reminisce on those moments. She just wanted to focus on the moment — wanted to hear your voice, even if it wasn't directed at her.
"Do you want me to fix you a plate?"
There wasn't a reply for a long stretch. She kept her eyes trained on the mug, watching as her hands clutched it tightly while she tried to process your words. The entire time she'd been here, you'd hardly even glanced at her, let alone talked to her. To hear you ask so casually if she wanted a dish you'd prepared left her mind reeling for a second.
"Celine?"
Her back straightened, head lifting far quicker than she meant for it to, and she met your eye, the sight of you smiling so softly at her forcing her words to fall flat against her tongue. "Would you like a plate?" You repeated.
In truth, it felt like she had no appetite. Spending so much time in your home — being so close to you again after over two decades — was still an adjustment. With the way your detachment had made her feel over the past few weeks, her stomach had been tied in knots. It was rare for her to feel hungry.
But you were offering something you'd made. The girls had asked you to make it, sure, because they adored your cooking, but that wasn't a guarantee she'd get to enjoy it as well. She'd only been relying on a cup of coffee every morning since she arrived. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had your cooking, but she remembered loving everything you used to make. It was then that her sense of smell kicked in and finally let her catch a whiff of the meal you had prepared.
A loud growl rumbled in her gut, one that you clearly heard. A small chuckle spilled free from your lips as you turned and grabbed another plate. "I'll take that as a yes," you mused.
A rush of color flooded over her face. She ducked her head down to stare at her cup again, but turned enough to glance over at the dining table, curious if the girls had also taken notice that you were finally talking to her.
Individually, she met their eyes, and one by one, they all stiffened, then shifted their focus to their respective plates settled in front of them on the table.
They noticed.
Of course they did.
It wasn't as nerveracking for them as it was for her, but they noticed.
Zoey spoke up then, trying to hide the fact they'd been watching, though she kept her tone low so only Mira and Rumi could hear what she had to say.
Ceramic clanked gently on the counter top, drawing Celine's attention forward. She now had her own plate in front of her, a hefty portion cushioning the head of the fork, and the view of your hand still gently grasping the side elicited a memory from her mind of when you used to fix her a plate for each meal all those years ago.
What she wouldn't give to go back in time and enjoy those days all over again. If she'd been given the chance, she would've made sure you knew how much she appreciated everything you ever did for her.
"Here," you spoke softly. Inadvertently, you indulged those wishes, your voice carrying the same level of fondness it used to when you'd greet her in the morning for breakfast. She struggled to look up at you, her stomach growling a second time and now accompanied by her mouth watering.
"Thank you," she finally managed to whisper. She brought her hands forward after moving her mug to the side, and a gentle tug was all it took to slide the plate closer. Trembling almost unnoticeably, she hooked her fingers around the handle of the fork and lifted a small bite-sized portion to her lips.
Before she could let it fall into her mouth, her eyes moved up, her movements faltering at the realization that you were still staring at her. She blinked. Her eyes flickered back down to the plate. Her hand lowered a bit as she cleared her throat, catching the way your shoulders tensed when she met your gaze. "Is everything alright?" She asked.
You nodded and stepped back a bit, your arms — which had previously been propped up on the counter — falling to rest by your sides. "Yeah, sorry," you blurted, eyes focused on anything but her. "I just—" You paused and took a breath.
"I wanted to thank you," you finally continued after searching for the right thing to say.
Her breath stuttered in her chest.
"Thank me?"
You nodded.
"What for?"
Your hand lifted and snaked itself over the curve of your neck. Slowly, you let the pads of your fingers rub rhythmically against your skin, desperate to find any semblance of comfort. You didn't know if she was genuinely confused or if she just wanted to hear you say it.
"For protecting me last night. For saving me." A nervous laugh intercepted what you still had to say, and you wondered briefly if you should admit what you had feared during the attack. It couldn't hurt, you figured. There were harder things you could admit to her. "I mean, it all happened so fast. I honestly didn't think I was going to make it out of that alive. I thought…"
You sucked in another breath, sharper than before, and shook your head with closed eyes.
She was more than aware of what you were going to say. Her heart clenched in her chest at the thought, a buzz of rage resurfacing from the night before, though she did her best to prevent it from seeping into her features.
You weren't the only one who thought you weren't going to make it out.
"I'm glad you were there," you said. "Thank you."
The very thing she vowed she would always do without hesitation had been tested — her loyalty and devotion to you had been tested — and here you were: thanking her for it. Thanking her for something she didn't even have to think about. Thanking her for what was essentially second nature to her.
A hum, hardly audible, was all she could muster as a smile stretched comfortably across her lips. As your eyes fell onto her to check if she had heard you, her own dropped to land back on the plate.
For the first time in weeks, the tension in her shoulders lifted, still sore from the brooding she'd wallowed in, but flooding with relief as the strain eased.
"Of course," she replied at length, tone insinuating it was an everyday occurrence to simply thrust yourself into the middle of a fight and risk your own life for someone you hardly knew anymore. "It was the least I could do."
Anyway, when I get back into writing, I'm going to focus a bit more on the full Celine fics I keep mentioning (and I might start asking around for a beta/proofreader). Lmk what y'all would want first so I know what to work on the most:
AUs
Idol Reader / Divorced AU
Beast AU
Royalty AU
Sea Creature AU
Voting ended onJul 30
I forgot I said I'd share sneak peeks here more often lmao, so I'll try to start doing that too sometime soon. I'm also planning to catch up on all of the older requests still sitting partially abandoned in my inbox. Sorry y'all have had to wait so long.
(Edit to clarify: the Beast AU is not a Beauty and the Beast AU)
I'll link the sneak peeks here after they upload. Just a heads up for the Sea Creature AU: I currently don't have anything written for it (not a proper scene anyway) because there are two completely different directions I'm considering for the plot. It'll either be an scientific experiment/test subject AU or a Pirate AU.
As soon as I rewatch the first season. I just need to find the time to actually sit down and do that, and then I'll reread part one before starting part two. I'm glad y'all liked it so much lmao because I was stressing the fuck out while writing it.
To whoever is using the KPDH tags solely to hate on it: please shut the fuck up.
It’s perfectly fine if you don’t like the movie and want to hate on it. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea. You don’t have to like it.
But don’t use the tags everyone else uses to show their love for it just to spread that hate. Take that shit somewhere else.
These tags are used for fans of the movie to find content they like and share their love for it with others, not for your distaste for the animation/story.
If you want to give genuine critique of the movie, that’s fine, but that’s something completely different from the blunt subjective takes you have.
I have a whole bunch of fluff ideas for Celine that (for once) don’t end in smut. Idk if I should share them here or make a separate account though. I originally wanted this page to only be for smut lmao.
