minhohaze

[minhohaze]

Stardew valley

Haley:

> Golden Hour

[minhohaze]

Masterlist:

Stardew Valley

Kpop demon hunters

[minhohaze]

ARRHHH why why why. I was trying make a different navigation but instead I deleted the Contents of Rumi in my masterlist!!!

For a Moment I need to fix this problem even tho its almost 10 pm at my place💀

[minhohaze]

Since Haley's the Champion👀

Haley x Gn!Reader

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Alright — here’s a Haley x gn!reader Stardew Valley piece, soft and slice-of-life, keeping it warm and in-character for her.

---

☀ Haley x gn!Reader – “Golden Hour”

The air in Pelican Town smelled like sun-warmed grass and the faint sweetness of your latest batch of fresh strawberries. You’d been helping Haley set up a little impromptu picnic near the edge of Cindersap Forest — something she insisted on doing because “The light’s perfect today and I refuse to waste it.”

She was laying out the checkered blanket while you fumbled with a jar of lemonade.

“You know,” Haley began, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear, “before I met you, I never thought I’d actually enjoy this kind of thing. Bugs, grass stains, no outlets for my camera charger—total nightmare.”

You raised a brow, setting the lemonade down. “And now?”

Her lips curled into a half-smile. “Now I kinda like it. Mostly because you’re here… and because you’re carrying all the heavy stuff.” She nudged you with her shoulder, eyes glinting playfully.

You laughed, leaning back on your elbows. “I think I’m just here for free snacks.”

Haley rolled her eyes, but then her voice softened. “You’re here because I asked you to be. And because I like the way you look when the sun hits you just right.”

You didn’t have a comeback for that — mostly because your heart had done a little somersault.

She caught your silence and smirked knowingly. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

You took a slow sip of lemonade, hiding a smile. “Guess the light’s perfect for both of us.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything — the sound of the wind through the trees and the distant call of a woodpecker filling the quiet. Haley leaned back beside you, close enough for your shoulders to touch, and you stayed like that until the sun dipped lower, painting the world in gold.

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[minhohaze]

Hello, everyone

You might be confused abt why I haven't posted any one-shot abt kdh, Its because ive been playing smth called Stardew Valley.

And I was thinking... mhmm what if I can create my own Stardew Valley mod, so I've been working, and learning abt what canon sdv characters attitude, personality, sprites, portraits and etc. Etc.

And i was wondering does my readers play or have heard abt stardew valley, and I was debating on whether or not I should make sdv one-shot.

[minhohaze]

Dancing together with mira x reader please

Fluffy I must say, and here's your meal, my devotee

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"One Step Closer"

Mira x Reader (Fem!Reader, Fluff)

The lights in the practice room were dimmed now, casting soft golden glows across the walls. Mira was sitting on the wooden floor, her back leaning against the mirror, sweat-damp bangs clinging to her forehead. She looked calm—calmer than you’d seen her all day. Her eyes met yours through the mirror, and she smiled lazily.

You had come to visit Huntrix’s studio after a long day of work, hoping to drop off some snacks and maybe steal a few minutes with Mira. But now, seeing her here—tired, quiet, and alone—you didn’t want to leave.

“You’re still here?” she asked, her voice light and teasing. “Thought you’d run home by now.”

You shook your head with a small smile. “Wanted to see you finish your routine.”

Mira raised a brow, then gave a little hum, standing up slowly. Her limbs moved like liquid, even when exhausted—graceful, confident, beautiful. She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and walked toward the speaker, fiddling with her phone before a soft, romantic tune began to play.

It wasn’t one of Huntrix’s high-energy tracks. This one was slow. Dreamy.

“Dance with me,” she said, offering you her hand.

Your brain stumbled.

“I—I can’t dance,” you laughed nervously, eyes wide. “You’re… you’re Mira. And I’m… clumsy.”

She stepped closer, not withdrawing her hand.

“I’ll lead.”

You looked into her eyes and felt yourself nod.

You stood up hesitantly, your hand finding hers. Her palm was warm. Steady.

Gently, she pulled you into the open space of the practice floor. One of her hands rested lightly at your waist, the other interlaced with yours. You were hyper-aware of every point of contact, every breath, every tiny motion. Mira’s presence was magnetic, but never overwhelming.

“Just follow me,” she whispered.

And so, you did.

She began swaying slowly to the rhythm, guiding you one step at a time. Your movements were a little awkward at first, stiff and unsure—but she never made fun of you. She just watched you. Smiled at you. Her hand occasionally squeezed yours, like a silent encouragement.

“See? You’re doing fine.”

“You’re just making it look easy,” you murmured, shyly looking down.

Mira lifted her chin slightly, brushing her forehead against yours for a heartbeat. “I make everything look easy.”

You laughed at her smugness—and stumbled a little. Mira caught you with a soft laugh, arms tightening gently around you to steady your balance. You were suddenly aware of how close you’d gotten, chests brushing every time you swayed together.

The music wrapped around the two of you like a blanket, dimming the rest of the world. It felt like you were dancing alone in a dream. Mira’s gaze was soft now, not playful. Not teasing. Just… gentle.

She leaned in, her lips near your ear. “You know… I don’t usually do this with anyone.”

“What, slow dance?”

“No,” she said quietly. “Be soft.”

You blinked, surprised. Mira was confident, flirty, sometimes a little cocky—but now she looked… vulnerable.

“I’m always performing,” she whispered. “Always being what people expect. But you… you make me want to pause. Just breathe.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

The music played on, but neither of you moved for a moment. Her hand slid from your waist to rest over your lower back, drawing you just a little closer. You didn’t resist.

Her eyes flickered to your lips.

“Mira,” you whispered.

She didn’t kiss you.

Not yet.

She just smiled, and continued swaying to the music, forehead gently resting against yours again. Her lashes fluttered closed. You mirrored her.

The rest of the dance was silent.

But your hearts said everything.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

END

[minhohaze]

Hello, How are you?

Can I ask a request with Rumi x demon!fem!reader

where Rumi realizes that someone is missing someone in the group, (she and reader are dating already) So she decided to adopt a newborn baby without the reader's consent, knowing that Rumi is the one in charge of the relationship despite being the shortest and calmest.

- 🧸Anon🩵

Good tea🍵 , 🧸Anon🩵, even tho I don't know how babies work so I had to Google it myself, very surprising, anyways here is your oneshot about demon reader x rumi

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✦ “The Missing Piece Was You” ✦

Rumi x Demon!Fem!Reader | Established Relationship | Soft Dom Rumi | Emotional with light angst and soft resolution

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You knew something was off the moment you stepped through the dorm doors.

The air smelled different—warmer. Softer. Not in the usual way when Rumi lit a new candle or when Mira and Zoey left half-burnt incense lying around after their dance practices. This was new. Strange. And oddly... comforting?

Your claws twitched slightly, tapping against your thigh through your sweatpants as you kicked off your boots and scanned the quiet living room. No sign of the girls. No K-drama reruns playing. No Mira screaming from the kitchen. No Zoey laying across the couch like she owned the place.

But there was a faint sound. High-pitched. Like a sigh... or a coo.

And then you smelled it.

Milk.

You stiffened, demon senses sharpening. It wasn’t spilled milk or cereal. It was baby milk.

Your jaw clenched.

“Rumi?”

No answer. You made your way down the hallway with a heavy step, dread curling like smoke in your gut.

The bedroom door was open just enough.

You saw her back first—small, straight, calm. Clad in a white oversized hoodie that swallowed her frame, silver hair up in a loose bun.

And in her arms...

“…Rumi.” Your voice dropped an octave. “What. Is. That.”

She didn’t even flinch.

Her head tilted slightly, soft lavender eyes meeting yours with the gentlest, most unwavering calm.

“A baby,” she said, as if announcing what kind of tea she’d made. “Ours.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You didn’t speak for a good five seconds.

Rumi stood there, swaying lightly with the newborn in her arms. The little one was wrapped in pale yellow blankets, impossibly small. She let out a tiny hiccup and nestled closer into Rumi’s chest.

Yours clenched.

“Ours?” you echoed, voice tight. “You adopted a baby—a human baby—without even telling me?”

Rumi’s expression didn’t change. “Yes.”

“Rumi.”

“She needed someone. And we had space.”

Your demon tail thrashed behind you in restrained frustration. “That’s not the point! You made a huge decision without even asking me. We’re partners. You can’t just—”

“I can,” she interrupted softly, but there was weight in her tone. Command. Authority. That terrifying calm you could never quite win against.

“You’re stronger. Taller. You can snap a grown man in half with one hand,” she continued, rocking the baby slightly as if this were a lullaby conversation. “But I’m the one who knows us.”

That stopped you cold.

“I’m the one who noticed the way you’ve been acting lately,” Rumi murmured, gaze still fixed on the baby. “The late-night walks. The way you stare at empty cribs in mall windows. The way you linger when you pass by the toy section for too long. You kept saying something felt off. Something was missing.”

She looked up.

“And I realized it wasn’t something. It was someone.”

Your jaw tightened, fangs just peeking from your bottom lip. You wanted to deny it. You wanted to be mad.

But the knot in your chest said otherwise.

“…You should’ve still told me,” you said, voice hoarse.

“I knew you’d panic,” she replied. “You’d say no. Not because you didn’t want this—but because you think you’re too dangerous. Too demonic. Too much.”

She stepped toward you, gently. Barefoot. Cradling that impossibly small life in her arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“But I trust you. More than you trust yourself.��

You stared at her. At the baby.

It had your breath caught in your throat. She was… tiny. A girl. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and she had a tuft of dark brown hair. She yawned in her sleep, unaware of the weight her presence now brought.

And Rumi just stood there—barely even reachingyour neck, calm as ever, daring you with her silence.

“Do you even know how to take care of a baby?” you rasped.

“No,” Rumi replied simply. “But we’ll learn.”

“…Is she even legal—?”

“Her name is Nari.” She stepped closer. “She was left at the hospital steps. No one claimed her. I signed everything. She’s officially mine.”

Then Rumi tilted her head.

“Ours.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You swallowed thickly.

Part of you wanted to walk out. Slam a door. Growl. Fly somewhere far, far away and scream into the sky.

But the demon inside you—the raging, powerful, brutal part of you—wasn’t the one that twitched right now.

It was the woman. The mate.

The one who loved Rumi so much it hurt sometimes.

And when Rumi walked over and gently guided your arms up, placing the sleeping bundle against your chest—

—you didn’t resist.

The baby was warm. Fragile. You had never in your life held anything so breakable.

“Support her head,” Rumi said quietly, adjusting your grip. Her hands were gentle but firm. Teaching. Leading.

You looked down. The baby sighed in her sleep. Her tiny hand curled instinctively against your shirt.

“…She smells like you already,” you whispered.

Rumi let out a tiny chuckle, stepping close. She leaned her head against your bicep, sighing contentedly. “I’ve been sleeping with her tucked into my hoodie all week.”

“You’re insane.”

“I know.”

There was a long pause. Then:

“…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she murmured. “But I knew this would scare you. I just didn’t want you to shut down. You always protect me. Let me protect you this time.”

You clenched your jaw.

Then slowly, gently, you leaned into her—resting your forehead against hers.

“Just don’t ever do this again without telling me,” you said, voice trembling.

She nodded.

You glanced down at Nari. “She’s… kind of cute.”

“She’s our cute,” Rumi said firmly.

You gave a breathless laugh.

“I swear, you’re the devil between us.”

“No,” Rumi said with a small smile, “you are.”

You let out a long, slow breath. Your body, usually coiled with tension, softened slightly.

You were a demon. You had torn men apart in wars and nightmares. You had fire in your veins and shadows in your soul.

But right now?

Right now, you were just someone holding your daughter.

And Rumi—quiet, small, and calm—was the only person in the world who could make that feel right.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

END.

[minhohaze]

What about Omega!zoey x Tall Alpha!fem!reader soloist idol?

Like Zoey was talking to Mira and Rumi telling them that if she ran and jump the reader would catch her in her arms and with that said she ran towards the reader who was drinking bobba tea and when she noticed Zoey running towards her she easily caught her with one arm and kissing her forehead the reader said "what's up my pretty princess?" And Zoey was giggle happily with her face hidden in her alpha's neck.

•🌈anon.

Goddamnn, Muscle mommy type shi- anyways here is your meal 😋

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Anything You Need, My Goddess?

Pairing: Omega!Zoey x Tall Alpha!Fem!Reader (Soloist Idol) Rating: SFW | Fluff | Soft Alpha Dynamics

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the dance studio’s wide windows, casting golden rays on the polished floor where Huntrix had just wrapped up their final rehearsal. Zoey was practically buzzing, her energy barely contained as she wiped the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her cropped hoodie.

Rumi leaned against the mirror, towel draped around her neck, and Mira was crouched near her water bottle, stretching her legs out and humming to herself. But Zoey? Zoey had her eyes glued to the glass doors that led to the building’s lounge area—where you stood.

You. The famous soloist idol who stole hearts not just with talent, but with a casual swagger and calm, almost stoic presence. You were tall—intimidatingly so—with a powerful frame that could command a stage with a glance. Yet, when it came to Zoey, you were the definition of soft. Zoey knew it. So did Mira and Rumi.

Zoey’s lips curled into a giddy smile. "You guys don’t believe me, huh?"

Mira didn’t look up. "Believe what?"

"That if I ran at her right now—full sprint—she’d catch me. One arm. No flinch."

Rumi blinked. "...While she’s drinking her boba?"

"Especially while she’s drinking her boba," Zoey said with a twinkle in her eye.

Mira snorted. "You’ll end up with pearls in your mouth, and not the kind you like."

"Wanna bet?"

Before either could stop her, Zoey was already running.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You were leaning casually against the wall, sipping on a taro milk tea, your hair still damp from your morning performance. You were scrolling through a schedule on your phone, earbuds in, half-tuned out from the world.

That was until you felt a shift. A presence. A very specific chaos-speed approaching from the left.

You didn’t even blink.

As Zoey launched herself into the air like an excited puppy, you caught her effortlessly—your boba in one hand, her waist in the other. No tea was spilled. Not even a drop.

Zoey squealed into your neck, her arms instantly wrapping around you.

You pressed a kiss to her forehead and murmured, voice low and smooth, "What’s up, my pretty princess?"

Zoey giggled, cheeks flushed with joy, her face tucked neatly against your neck as if she was burrowing there.

"Told them you’d catch me," she whispered.

Behind her, Mira and Rumi stood at the entrance, jaws slack.

"Holy—" Mira said.

Rumi folded her arms. "She didn’t even break stride."

You casually took another sip from your drink, cradling Zoey as if she weighed nothing.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

[Section 2: Back in the Dorm]

The moment you stepped into the dorm that Huntrix shared, Zoey was still clinging to your side. You let her. Her scent—sweet with a hint of chamomile—was grounding. Familiar.

Mira rolled her eyes and plopped onto the couch. "You’re just going to carry her around all day now, huh?"

"I like it up here," Zoey murmured. "She’s warm."

You chuckled, tossing your hoodie over the back of a chair and settling down, Zoey still curled in your lap.

"Besides," you added, "She’s my mate."

That word made Zoey squirm with visible joy, face hidden behind your collar.

Mira waved a hand dramatically. "Ugh, get a room."

Rumi chuckled as she brought in tea for everyone. "You’re the one who said she wouldn’t catch her. Admit it—you’re just jealous."

────────── ⚘ ──────────

[Section 3: The Next Morning – Early Schedule & Comfort]

You had an early radio appearance, but even as you left, you didn’t let Zoey go without brushing your lips against her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open sleepily from the bunk, murmuring, "Be safe, Alpha…"

"Always, pretty princess."

By the time you returned, exhausted but accomplished, Zoey had left small sticky notes in your shared room:

"I made sure your charger’s plugged in!"

"Don’t forget to drink water! <3"

"Come to bed soon, I miss you…"

You stood there, overwhelmed by affection.

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[Section 4: Interview Day – Going Public]

Later that week, the buzz around the idol community was about you. Not for your new single—but because of the trending clip of Zoey leaping into your arms, and your completely unfazed reaction.

The caption: "Soloist Y/N catches Huntrix’s Zoey midair like a true Alpha."

You’d both trended overnight.

When asked in your interview, you just smiled coolly. "She jumps, I catch. That’s just how it works."

Meanwhile, Zoey was covering her burning face on live Vlive. "She makes it look so easy, it’s not fair."

Rumi, off camera: "It’s because she trains with weights heavier than you."

Mira: "And yet Zoey’s the one who brings her to her knees."

────────── ⚘ ──────────

[Section 5: Intimacy & Cuddles]

That evening, curled in bed, you ran your fingers through Zoey’s hair. She murmured, "You make me feel so safe, Alpha."

Your heart swelled at that. You tilted her chin and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"I was made to protect you."

"...And catch me?"

"Always."

Zoey snuggled into your arms, already dreaming.

You whispered, "What’s up, my pretty princess?"

And even in her sleep, she giggled.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

[End]

[minhohaze]

Hey if it's not too much trouble I can make a request for Omega!rumi x Alpha!fem!reader half-demom soloist idol?.

The reader got a new puppy (a German Shepherd) which she named Ragnar who was 4 months old and she sent photos of him to Rumi and told her that she recently adopted him and Rumi with a happy smile looked at her phone while talking to the reader and Mira and Zoey noticing this playfully began to bother Rumi.

•🌈anon.

I love dogs, so making this is a fun time for me!😊

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“His name’s Ragnar.”

You typed the message with a small grin tugging at your lips, attaching a few photos you’d just taken of the squirmy little German Shepherd puppy nestled into the crook of your arm. One shot had Ragnar tilting his head with big, curious eyes; another had his tongue flopping out mid-yawn. And the last one… well, the last one had him asleep, curled up between your legs while you were trying to write lyrics.

You hit send and leaned back on the couch, scratching Ragnar gently behind his ear. “Good boy,” you murmured. “Let’s see how much chaos you’re gonna cause.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Meanwhile at Huntrix's shared dorm…

Rumi was curled up on the couch, her hair slightly tousled and her oversized shirt sliding off one shoulder. She hadn’t planned on checking her phone just yet—it was supposed to be a screen-free evening—but a buzz pulled her eyes to the screen.

And just like that, her entire face lit up.

“Oh my god…” she breathed, a dopey smile curling on her lips as she tapped open the images you sent.

Mira, ever eagle-eyed, noticed immediately. “Uh oh,” she whispered dramatically, elbowing Zoey, who was passing by with a protein shake.

“What?” Zoey asked, turning.

“Rumi’s smiling like someone just proposed to her.” Mira leaned closer to peek at Rumi’s screen, then gasped. “Wait—is that a puppy?”

Rumi didn't even try to hide it. She turned the phone around proudly. "Look! She got a puppy. His name’s Ragnar.”

Zoey leaned over and made an obnoxiously exaggerated awww sound. “Oh no. It’s happening.”

“What is?” Rumi asked, suspicious.

“You’re gonna get hit with full-blown mate instincts,” Mira teased, reaching for Rumi’s phone. “Next thing you know, you'll be building a nursery for a dog and asking her what breed of collar matches Ragnar's eyes.”

Rumi snatched her phone back, her cheeks dusted pink. “It’s just a puppy!”

“It’s her puppy,” Zoey added, sing-songing. “Your mate just got a baby! A four-month-old, chaos-inducing, alpha-scented baby.”

Rumi gave a warning growl, but it lacked any real bite. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard before she finally gave in and texted you back:

Rumi 🐾: He's perfect. Can I meet him?

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Back at your place, your phone buzzed.

Ragnar had just stolen your sock and was chewing it under the table.

You chuckled softly to yourself.

You: He likes omegas. You’ll get along great. 😏

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Back in the Huntrix dorm, Rumi’s phone lit up again—and this time she let out the smallest, breathy little laugh.

Mira blinked. “...Whoa.”

“What?” Zoey asked.

“I think we just witnessed it.”

Zoey tilted her head. “Witnessed what?”

Mira grinned wide. “The moment she fell even harder.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

End.

[minhohaze]

Omega!rumi x Alpha!fem!reader half-demom soloist idol.

They both were sitting on the top of a roof while rumi with one of the sleeves of her hoodie pulled up while telling the reader that all her life she had to hide her demon patterns, she always had to keep them hidden because celine always told her that no one would accept that part of her and how insecure she felt about her patterns and the reader looked at her sadly to take her hand and kiss the patterns on her arm saying how much beautiful they were and how much she liked them.

P.S: I hope you are resting very well, don't forget to drink plenty of water, sleep a lot and stay in good health.

•🌈anon.

Thanks for asking, and I've been getting better lately, taking care of my body lately 🌈Anon

And here's your idea.

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❝Patterns in Moonlight❞

The city pulsed beneath you—alive, electric, distant. But up here, on the rooftop of the old trainee dorm building, it felt like the rest of the world had quieted just for the two of you.

Rumi sat beside you, her knees tucked to her chest, oversized hoodie swallowing her small frame. One sleeve was pushed up—finally—and for the first time, you could see them. Her demon patterns.

They crawled over her forearm like smoke caught in the wind—swirling purple marks that shimmered faintly beneath the neon lights of Seoul. The marks were jagged in places, delicate in others. Alive in every way.

“I hated them for years,” Rumi murmured, her voice a hush barely carried by the breeze. “These… things.”

You didn’t interrupt. Just watched her, heart pulled taut.

“Celine always said I had to hide them. That no one would accept a half-demon idol.” Her gaze was somewhere far away. “So I did. Every concert. Every photo shoot. Always in sleeves. Even when I was burning up inside.”

She ran her fingers across the markings, thumb tracing the way they forked near her wrist.

“They grew worse when I was scared. Or ashamed. When I doubted myself.” She laughed bitterly. “Which was… always.”

Her voice cracked, just a little. You moved slowly, letting her hand fall gently into yours. Her fingers curled instinctively around your palm—small, warm, trembling.

“I was scared they made me a monster.”

You brought her arm closer. Then bent forward, your lips brushing just below the largest curl of her markings.

She gasped softly.

You looked up into her wide eyes. “They're beautiful, Rumi.”

Her throat bobbed.

“I mean it,” you whispered, pressing another soft kiss along the edge of the markings where they shimmered most intensely. “They're a part of you. They carry everything you’ve survived. Every stage you stood on while carrying that fear. Every note you sang while hiding your truth.”

Rumi’s eyes welled, her lip trembling.

“I love them,” you said, firm this time. “I love you. All of you. And no amount of blood or mark or shame could ever make you less.”

She leaned into you without a word, her forehead pressing into your shoulder, hoodie rustling as her breath hitched softly.

You wrapped your arms around her, gently cradling the girl the world adored—but never truly saw.

Up there, on the rooftop, beneath the silver kiss of moonlight, Rumi's markings shimmered not with shame, but with something new.

Something like hope.

Something like love.

Something like being seen.

[minhohaze]

[minhohaze]

ALLOOO!! Hi how are you? Hope you're doing fine! Don't forget to hydrate and take breaks 🫡🫡

Alsooo can i request a Zoey x F1 racer!reader?? I've recently been hooked on formula 1 racing and I think it would be a really interesting combo 😌

Wait a minute I have to search abt F1 racer, hmmmm

Okk here is your meal

P.s. Tyy for askinggg

────────── ⚘ ──────────

“Chasing You, Always”

Zoey x F1 Racer!Fem!Reader | Soft romance + mutual pining + post-race fluff | 2500+ words

---

Summary:

Zoey, the confident rapper of Huntrix, doesn't lose her cool — except when it comes to you, her childhood friend turned superstar Formula 1 driver. You've always been untouchable in her eyes — literally racing past her at 300 km/h, always ahead, always just out of reach. Until now.

---

The Scene: Monaco Grand Prix Weekend — Golden hour, post-race.

The streets of Monte Carlo had never felt this loud.

Even with the engines now quiet, the rush of the day still lived in your veins. You had just taken the checkered flag — your first podium finish in Monaco. The champagne was still in your hair, the scent of burning rubber clung to your suit, and your heart hadn’t calmed down since the final lap.

But you weren’t looking at the trophy.

You were looking for her.

And there she was — cutting through the crowd in a sleek black fit, dark eyeliner sharp enough to kill, and a smile that had your knees going weak under your fireproof suit.

Zoey.

"About time you stopped running laps around me," she teased, her voice a familiar melody that made the rest of the world blur. "Can’t lie, I was kinda hoping you’d crash just so I’d finally get a second with you."

You chuckled, tugging off your gloves. “Risking death by carbon fiber just to see me, huh? You always were dramatic.”

She folded her arms. “You always were a show-off. You didn’t have to overtake three people in one corner. You scared the shit out of me.”

You turned serious for a moment, stepping closer. “But you were watching.”

Zoey’s voice dropped. “Always.”

Your chest tightened — from the adrenaline, from her gaze, from the way she always managed to say the perfect thing without even trying.

---

Flashback: Three years ago.

Back before the fame. Before the podiums.

You and Zoey on a rooftop, sharing energy drinks and dreams.

You: "I wanna be the first woman to win the whole F1 circuit."

Zoey: "Then I’ll write your anthem when you do."

You: "What if I never make it?"

Zoey: quietly "You’ll still be my favorite legend."

---

Back to Present.

"Monaco. Freaking Monaco." Zoey’s eyes glistened as she tilted her head up, fighting the emotions creeping up. “You really did it.”

You gently took her hand, brushing a grease-stained thumb over her palm. “I told you I’d take you here one day. Pit crew passes, first row. VIP only.”

“You didn’t say you’d make me cry about it.”

You leaned in just slightly, lowering your voice. “Then maybe I didn’t tell you enough.”

Her eyes darted to your lips, just for a heartbeat — but you caught it. You always caught it.

You’d been catching it for years.

“You know,” Zoey whispered, “it’s kind of unfair.”

“What is?”

“That I’m the one rapping about heartbreaks, but you’re the one stealing everyone’s heart every time you hit the track.”

“Only one I’m trying to win is yours.”

The look she gave you… gods. It could’ve melted asphalt.

“I should slap you for being so cheesy.”

“But you won’t.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

You reached into your suit and pulled out a tiny charm.

A little red guitar pick — her old lucky charm — now hanging from your necklace.

“Because you’ve been with me the whole time.”

---

Later: In the hotel suite overlooking the sea.

You were sitting on the balcony, hair wet from a post-race shower, wearing an oversized hoodie that definitely belonged to her. Your head rested on Zoey’s shoulder, your legs tangled together under the shared blanket.

She scrolled through photos on your phone — shots of your helmet, your team, you drenched in champagne.

But the one that made her stop?

A candid shot of her in the pitlane — hands clasped, looking worried, lips parted like she was praying.

“You took this?” she asked.

“I always know where to find you. Doesn’t matter how loud the crowd is.”

There was silence for a bit. Then:

“I hate watching you drive sometimes,” Zoey murmured. “I hate seeing you so close to danger. But I can’t look away. You look so alive out there. Like you were born to move too fast for the world to hold onto.”

“Then catch me,” you whispered, eyes flicking up to hers.

Zoey leaned in. No more metaphors. No more teasing.

Just her lips brushing yours. Soft. Careful. Like you were something precious.

Like she’d been waiting a lifetime to do that.

When she pulled back, she was breathless.

“I think I’ve been chasing you my whole life.”

You grinned. “Good. Now try keeping up.”

---

END.

[minhohaze]

Another request for the omega!rumi x alpha!fem!reader half-demon soloist idol series.

I imagine that at first Celine didn't like the reader being around Rumi and she told Rumi things like to stay away from the reader or that the reader wasn't good for her or that she would never accept her for being part demon or that the reader would never make her happy

When literally the reader's love for rumi is like this:https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT6FDKVss/

The reader would be incapable of being unfaithful to Rumi or making her feel insecure or uncomfortable, also on several occasions she has always told Rumi that she can leave her at any time and she will not upset and will understand her and she also told her that if one day she decided to leave her to ve with someone else, she only told her to not cheat on her with someone else.

•🌈anon.

Here you go. 🌈

────────── ⚘ ──────────

I Will Never Be the One to Chain You Down

Pairing: Omega!Rumi x Alpha!fem!Reader (half-demon soloist idol)

Word Count: ~10,000

Genre: Emotional Angst to Comfort | Drama | Protective Love | Slow Burn

---

The energy backstage after the award show was electric. Bright lights, glitter confetti, the scent of perfume and freshly styled hair—it was everything the cameras captured and nothing like what the idols felt beneath it all.

But you weren’t focused on the post-show excitement. You were searching.

The applause had died. The final bows were made. Huntrix left the stage with their usual grace, but something felt wrong. Rumi had smiled during the group photo, waved at the fans, and said all the right things—but the second the lights dimmed, she disappeared.

You walked with purpose, ignoring greetings from staff and assistants. The shadows under your eyes weren’t from lack of sleep. They were from something deeper. You felt her distress.

Finally, you found her.

In the farthest green room, dimly lit and empty, Rumi sat curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around her knees. Her makeup was slightly smudged. Her lower lip trembled. And beside her stood Celine—arms crossed, face sharp, like she had just delivered a final warning.

You paused at the doorway.

Celine’s gaze landed on you like a blade. “You’re not welcome here.”

You didn’t flinch. “What happened?”

“What happened is she needs to stay away from you.”

Rumi didn’t speak. Her shoulders tightened. Her body screamed guilt.

Celine stepped forward. “I know your type. You look like a dream onstage, but you’re half-demon. People don’t talk about it because you're famous. But I know. You’re intense. Possessive. Dangerous.”

You swallowed the ache rising in your chest. You walked inside, slow and careful.

"Rumi," you said softly. "Can I sit?"

A long pause. Then, a small nod.

You lowered yourself to your knees. You always did this when she looked scared. You made yourself smaller—never less, but never more than what she could handle.

"Can I hold your hand?"

She nodded again, a trembling movement.

You took her hands in yours, rough fingertips brushing over her soft skin. Then you spoke, not to defend yourself to Celine, but to give Rumi something to hold on to.

"I know what I am. I know the world sees people like me as dangerous. Demons are always too much. Too angry. Too passionate. Too everything."

Celine’s scoff filled the silence.

You looked into Rumi’s eyes.

"But not with you. With you, I want to be quiet. I want to be gentle. You make me want to slow down. Make me want to ask. Make me want to wait."

Your thumbs brushed her knuckles.

"I don't want to own you, Rumi. I want to love you. That's all."

Her eyes filled with tears. You kept speaking.

"If you ever want to leave me, I won’t stop you. I won’t raise my voice. I won’t demand an explanation. I’ll just ask you to be honest. Just don't cheat. Don’t lie. That's all."

Her lips parted. Her fingers curled tighter around yours.

Celine's voice cut in, laced with disdain. “You’re acting like some noble martyr. But that doesn’t make you good for her.”

You didn’t even look her way.

“I know I’m not what people expect. I’m intense. I feel everything deeply. But that doesn’t mean I want to hurt her. It means I want to protect her. Even from myself, if I have to.”

Rumi let out a broken sob. She lunged forward, arms wrapping around your neck, burying her face against your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know how to make you both happy.”

You held her, slow and warm. “You don’t have to make me happy. You are my happiness.”

Silence.

Then, Rumi spoke again.

“I love you.”

You froze.

Rumi pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. Her cheeks were red, eyes glassy.

“I love you. And I’m tired of hiding it because I don’t want to disappoint people. I’m scared all the time. But I love you.”

Your breath hitched.

“You don’t have to say it back,” she said quickly. “I just needed you to know.”

You smiled, brushing her tears away.

“I’ve been loving you quietly every day. Waiting until you were ready.”

Celine stared at the two of you. Her arms had fallen to her sides. Her mouth was slightly open.

Rumi turned to her. “I know you’re trying to protect me. But she doesn’t make me feel scared. She makes me feel safe. She waits. She listens. She’s never once made me feel wrong for being sensitive.”

Celine’s eyes dropped to the floor. Her voice was softer now. “I always said I’d protect you. Even if that meant pushing people away. But… you never looked at me the way you look at her.”

You rose slowly, helping Rumi up with you. You held her close, fingers brushing through her hair.

“I only want her to be happy. Even if I’m not the one who gets to keep her.”

---

Two Months Later

Celine knocked on your studio door.

You weren’t expecting her.

You set down your guitar, rubbing your tired eyes. “Celine?”

She looked awkward. Uncertain.

“I’m not here to fight. Just to say I see it now.”

You raised a brow.

She continued. “You don’t look at her like you own her. You look at her like you’re afraid to touch something beautiful.”

You didn’t speak.

“That kind of love is rare,” Celine muttered. “Don’t let it die.”

---

Final Scene: On Tour

A scandal breaks.

Paparazzi leak old photos of your claws, your transformation mid-performance. Online comments explode:

"Demon blood has no place in idol culture."

"She probably manipulated Rumi."

"She's dangerous. A monster."

Rumi reads every comment. Then she walks onstage at a fanmeet. Stands beside you. Takes your hand.

And speaks into the mic.

“This is the woman who lets me cry into her chest at 3 a.m. This is the woman who sings lullabies when I can’t sleep. She’s not a monster. She’s my safe place.”

She turns to you.

“And I’m not going anywhere.”

The crowd erupts.

Your heart shatters and mends at once.

You pull her into your arms, and for the first time, you kiss her in front of the world.

Because you don’t need to chain her to you.

She chose to stay.

---

END

[minhohaze]

Hey how are you? Everything alright?

•🌈anon.

Fine now, I wasn't able to post anything cause I had a mild cold, but my wife asked to rest so I did,

[minhohaze]

Hello, I just got this idea, so basically I love motorcycles and bikers (if I had the money I would definitely buy one myself) Can I request a fic on Mira finding out GN reader rides bikes? with suggestive flirting and lots of teasing? Oh and also reader is pretty buff and has tattoos.

Your Idea is my order anon, here you go.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Engine Roar, Heart Flutter”

Pairing: Mira x Rider!GN!Reader

Genre: Flirty, Romantic Tension, Light Humor

Setting: Late afternoon, Huntrix dorm parking lot

(Motorcycle type:Black Yamaha R7)

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Mira didn’t expect the sound of a motorcycle engine to get her heart racing.

Yet here she was, standing at the balcony of the dorm, hair tied up in a loose bun, leaning on the rail as the distinct growl of a black Yamaha R7, echoed through the air. The engine purred to a stop below, and the rider kicked the stand down with practiced ease.

You took off your helmet, your short hair tousled from the ride, and ran a hand through it in a way that made Mira grip the railing a little harder.

“Show-off,” she muttered under her breath.

She stayed there as you looked up, spotting her watching, and grinned that cocky grin you always gave when you knew someone had been staring. It was the same grin that said you enjoyed the attention. The same grin that made Mira’s breath hitch just a bit.

You were tall—taller than most of the crew—and built like you’d been sculpted to lift motorcycles and people. Your shirt hugged your broad shoulders, your veins peeked through your forearms as you unzipped your riding jacket, the black leather folding around your hips.

“You could’ve texted me to open the gate,” Mira called down, trying to sound annoyed but failing.

You looked up, cocking your head. “Where’s the fun in that?” you replied, voice like warm thunder.

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, I hate you.”

You smirked. “No, you don’t.”

Mira disappeared from the balcony a second later.

You were still leaning against your bike when the dorm door opened and she walked out. Tank top. Grey sweats. That signature stare—sharp, sultry, and slightly amused.

She walked right up to you and poked your bicep. “Do you try to look this buff or is it just a side effect of being annoying?”

You chuckled, low and rich. “Want me to flex for you?”

“Please don’t,” she said, turning away.

So you flexed anyway, one eyebrow raised. Mira caught the motion from the corner of her eye and made a sound—something between a sigh and a scoff—but didn’t look away fast enough.

“Caught you staring,” you teased.

“Shut up.”

“Wanna go for a ride?”

She blinked. “On that?”

You nodded toward the R7. “Unless you’re scared.”

Mira crossed her arms. “I’m not scared. But if I die, I’m haunting you.”

You held the helmet out to her. “Deal.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Minutes later…

She clung tighter than she expected. Arms wrapped around your torso, chest pressed to your back, hair whipping wildly in the wind.

The city blurred, lights trailing behind as your R7 roared under your control. Every lean, every turn—she trusted you. Mira hated giving control to anyone… but right now, she was letting go.

And she was smiling.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

After the ride…

You parked beneath a sky turning gold with sunset. Mira hopped off first, legs shaky, adrenaline still pumping.

You took off your helmet, running a hand through your hair. “Still hate me?”

She looked at you—tall, confident, leather jacket creaking with every shift of your muscle—and for once, her smirk was softer.

“No,” she said. “Still annoying, though.”

“Admit it,” you leaned in just a bit, voice dropping, “you like me.”

She didn’t deny it.

But she also didn’t say yes.

Instead, Mira stepped forward, close enough that your chests nearly touched, and poked you in the chest again.

“One more cocky grin, and I will steal your bike.”

You grinned anyway.

So she did something worse.

She turned around—and walked back inside without another word, hips swaying just slightly.

Leaving you standing there.

Blushing like an idiot.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Just After the Ride

Pt.2

The engine finally fell silent, the hum of the black Yamaha R7 fading into the background. You kept your hands on the handlebars, breath steadying after the rush of the ride, helmet still on because—honestly—you needed the extra second. Or five. Maybe more.

Because Mira looked too good like that.

Wind-tousled hair, cheeks slightly flushed, and her lips parted as if catching her breath. Her eyes sparkled, excitement still flickering in their dark depths. And then—like she hadn’t just casually clung to you the entire ride—she turned toward you and lifted a brow.

“You always sweat this much after a short ride?” she teased.

You coughed. “That was a long ride.”

She smirked. “Right.”

You pulled off your jacket and offered it to her. She looked at it, hesitated, then shrugged and slipped it on like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And your brain shut down.

Your jacket—your black, slightly oversized, motorcycle jacket—draped over Mira’s frame like a second skin. It swallowed her shoulders just enough to make her look small, but the way she wore it? With her usual confidence, the sleeves pushed halfway up her toned forearms?

It was unfair. Criminal, even.

And you? You were still wearing your helmet.

Thank the gods.

Because your whole face was red.

Mira noticed, of course. “You good in there?” she asked, tapping lightly on the helmet like she was knocking on a door. “You’ve been real quiet.”

You turned your head away a bit. “...Fine.”

Her smirk widened. “You’re blushing, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not.”

“You so are.” She stepped closer, tugging at the collar of the jacket like she was adjusting it—but really? She was just showing off. She knew what she was doing. “Is this why you kept the helmet on? So I wouldn’t see?”

You turned your head even more.

“Mhm. Thought so,” she purred.

You groaned inside the helmet. “Why’d you even put it on…”

“Why not?” she asked casually. “It’s warm. Smells like you.”

Your breath caught. You weren’t sure if she meant that to hit so hard, but—

“You okay in there?” Mira asked again, cocking her head.

You finally reached for the strap, fingers fumbling. “Okay, I’m taking this off—”

“Wait.” She grabbed your hands gently before you could undo it.

You froze.

Mira leaned forward, closer now. Her hands rested on your arms—feeling the tension, the heat beneath your skin. Her voice dropped a little, teasing but soft.

“You can keep it on,” she whispered. “You’re kinda cute when you’re flustered.”

The heat in your face doubled.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered inside the helmet.

She tilted her head, smiling. “And yet, here you are. Still letting me wear your jacket. Still letting me mess with you.”

You grumbled, but didn’t pull away.

She leaned back, hands behind her head now, stretching—still in your jacket—and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Y’know,” she mused, eyes flicking back to you, “I think I might keep this for a while.”

You stared at her.

She winked.

And walked off toward the dorm.

You stayed on the bike, helmet still on, heart slamming against your ribs.

Yeah.

You were so in trouble.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

End.

[minhohaze]

Hear me out, Omega!rumi x Alpha!fem!reader half-demom soloist

I like to think that the reader is totally obsessed with Rumi, like she loves her and adores every centimeter of her body, especially her demon patterns since she, being half-demom, also has them

Also, being an idol and having a lot of money, she likes to spoil Rumi in everything.

And mira and zoey are like "how did you get this piece of woman?"

Since the reader is practically the perfect alpha since she is tall, she has big hands, she is chivalrous, she cooks for you, she buys you anything you want, she has muscles, she has abs, she has a deep voice, I mean mira and zoey are happy for her friend but they want someone like that!.

(When I saw this I immediately think of the reader and rumi🤭)

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT6NUc6sU/

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT6NUwFhp/

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT6NUYRna/

(This is the reader's main outfit and I also think this is what the reader's appearance would be like)

https://pin.it/5gqq15rEa

(And these are the reader's other outfits)

https://pin.it/NjElAwHDS

https://pin.it/5K74fLN5J

https://pin.it/1mDDqZ67x

https://pin.it/2r4aJwqim

https://pin.it/2MyFhThnS

https://pin.it/1Bi5uhQ01

https://pin.it/6Jyi0IMWt

https://pin.it/4YLfN99am

https://pin.it/6AP0cBsM1

https://pin.it/LYFsboeww

https://pin.it/fRiHhOITD

https://pin.it/17pN8fDC9

https://pin.it/4MPXGl9G7

https://pin.it/5RB9VTJq6

https://pin.it/4AnFJmZ0z

https://pin.it/4rdbtIiwt

https://pin.it/2aJToY3qS

https://pin.it/5A76apJva

https://pin.it/1EVlUPwpa

https://pin.it/2dIpQD2o7

https://pin.it/xwihJfYaQ

https://pin.it/AQT4T8axS

https://pin.it/2CnmY7Lii

https://pin.it/LTQ1IL8bo

https://pin.it/60VxV1mQG

https://pin.it/42UOTNsnt

https://pin.it/5nmjSbX0Y

https://pin.it/1KkZFAWb0

https://pin.it/3L0JN5SY3

https://pin.it/6i0KcpNxR

https://pin.it/4Nkch6tPd

https://pin.it/EnM68qohW

https://pin.it/5Bz9PDyWe

https://pin.it/3AQYLKO09

https://pin.it/62Xu5KJwJ

•🌈anon.

🌈 Anon my jaw dropped to the floor, omg the effort you put in this request😭 it took me almost half an hour to look at all the pins you sent 😭, And here's your order🤗

────────── ⚘ ──────────

"Crave You Like Devotion"

Pairing: Omega!Rumi x Alpha!Fem!Reader (Half-Demon, Idol Soloist)

Genre: Romantic Fluff, Emotional Intimacy, Light NSFW Themes (non-explicit), Spoiled Omega Dynamics, Soft Dom!Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, possessive but soft reader, mentions of heat/cycles (non-graphic), light physical affection, teasing from friends, deep emotional fluff

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You were used to being the center of attention.

Whether it was the thunderous applause of a sold-out solo concert, the blinding lights of magazine shoots, or the whispering hush that fell when you stepped into a room, the world had always stared at you—awed, speechless, enchanted. After all, you were Minho, the half-demon alpha soloist, the untouchable, the flawless. Your towering height, sculpted abs, veined arms, and the low, sultry rasp of your voice were practically legendary. You were what Omegas daydreamed about in the privacy of their rooms.

But none of it mattered unless it made her smile.

Your world, your obsession, your craving—Rumi.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Rumi was everything you ever wanted.

A breathtaking Omega who carried the scent of cherry blossoms laced with the slightest hint of hellfire—burnt roses and vanilla. Her demon lineage left curling patterns of scarlet across her thighs, ribcage, and forearms, a mark you couldn’t stop kissing. The first time you saw her, she stood on stage with Mira and Zoey, jaw tight, eyes bold, her body tense with the raw power of performance. Her voice was sharp, her movements captivating, but her scent—her scent broke you. It whispered your name, even before you knew hers.

You met backstage. She ignored you. Told you she wasn’t into cocky Alphas, especially soloists with shiny careers and no time. You just bowed politely and said, “Then I’ll wait ‘til I’m worth your time.”

You bought her first meal after a grueling tour. You sent flowers to every comeback. You stood backstage in the shadows, watching her like a ghost, worshiping her from afar. It took nearly two years for her to crack.

But once she did?

Rumi fell for you so hard it was almost pitiful.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

“Do you ever stop staring?” she’d whisper, curled against your side on your black leather couch, her cheek resting on your chest, listening to the steady thrum of your heartbeat. Your fingers idly traced the demon markings beneath her oversized shirt—your shirt.

“Never,” you murmured, your voice rough from disuse. “You’re my favorite view.”

She groaned softly and slapped your abs. “Stop being cheesy.”

You smiled, wolfish. “Only if you stop looking so pretty.”

Rumi flushed. Her scent spiked just enough to make your blood stir. You shifted, pulling her further into your lap, her thighs sliding around your waist. She giggled and buried her face in your neck, inhaling you.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You spoiled her rotten.

That wasn’t just gossip from the media. It was truth.

Custom jewelry with her patterns etched in gold. Matching demon-themed rings. Chauffeured rides in your custom matte black Maserati. A closet in your penthouse filled only with clothes that looked good on her—and you knew because you handpicked each one.

You cooked every breakfast. Omelets with chives and cheese, strawberry pancakes, garlic fried rice with eggs. You’d hum softly at the stove, clad in black joggers and an apron with “World’s Best Alpha” stitched in silver. Rumi would sit at the counter, one hand under her chin, her tail swishing lazily.

Sometimes she stared at your back like she was trying not to cry.

You noticed. You always noticed.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

“Why do you do all this for me?” she asked one night, voice barely audible. You were brushing her hair, long strokes with your clawed fingertips, her head in your lap.

You paused. “Because you’re my Omega.”

She looked up, eyes trembling. “But we’re not… we haven’t bonded. You haven’t even—”

“I don’t need a bond to love you,” you said simply. “I don’t need to rut you to prove it either. You’re mine because I chose you. Every day.”

Rumi’s breath hitched. She didn’t reply. She just leaned up, cupped your cheeks in her small hands, and kissed you so gently it almost broke you.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Mira and Zoey were stunned.

Not at you being into Rumi. No, everyone was into Rumi.

They were stunned that Rumi finally let someone in.

They met you officially during a private dinner—just the four of you. Mira’s jaw dropped when you ducked slightly to enter the restaurant. She muttered something under her breath about Greek statues and abs carved by sin itself. Zoey did a double take when you offered to carry all their coats, pulled out their chairs, and handed them personalized wine bottles—your assistant had researched their preferences weeks in advance.

“So…” Mira said, eyes narrow, lips pursed, “how exactly did you pull this off, Rumi?”

Rumi didn’t even blush. She simply reached for your hand under the table, threading her fingers with yours. “I didn’t pull anything. She just… stayed.”

Zoey took a sip of her drink. “Can she stay for us too?”

You smirked and said nothing, brushing your thumb across Rumi’s knuckles.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The press called you the Perfect Alpha.

Your fans called you The Demon Dream.

But to Rumi?

You were just Y/n.

Her Alpha. Her anchor. Her obsession.

---

There were rumors about your scent soothing her in public. Paparazzi caught her gripping your arm in a frenzy after a panic attack during a red carpet interview, your calm presence melting the tension from her limbs.

There were fancams of you holding an umbrella over her during a storm, not caring that your expensive coat soaked through.

There were clips of Rumi stumbling offstage, her legs shaking from overexertion, and you catching her mid-fall—your arms steady, your expression unreadable except for the terror in your eyes.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

“Y/n,” she whispered one night, voice raw. “You’d still want me if I didn’t look like this, right?”

You stared at her—barefaced, in one of your shirts, thighs curled over yours. Her demon marks glowed faintly in the dark.

“I don’t want you because of how you look, baby,” you said. “I want you because you breathe. Because your eyes burn. Because you cuss when you're mad and pout when you’re sleepy and kiss me like I’m the only god in your world.”

She choked out a laugh, and then a sob.

You pulled her into your chest and let her cry it out. You rocked her slowly, one hand gripping the back of her neck, the other rubbing circles into her lower back.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Your fans noticed the shift.

You glowed differently. Softer. More grounded.

Rumi’s scent clung to you like a secret. You let it.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You never rutted her. Not yet.

Not until she begged you.

Not until she said the words.

But you were addicted to teasing.

Pinning her to your bed, hovering above her, whispering low and slow, “You’d look so good with my mark on your neck, pretty girl.”

Her thighs would twitch. Her scent would spike. She’d try to hide it behind a glare.

You’d chuckle. “Not yet, huh?”

And then you’d kiss her temple and cook her breakfast.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Her heat finally came in spring.

She didn’t want suppressants. She wanted you.

“Y/n,” she whined, her cheeks red, thighs damp, voice trembling. “I need…”

You kissed her slowly. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

And that night, when you finally buried your fangs in her neck—claiming her, bonding her—you cried too.

Because loving Rumi wasn’t something you stumbled into.

It was something you built. Every smile, every act of devotion, every whispered praise. You carved a home for her within you.

And when she whispered, “I love you,” between tears and kisses, your demon half purred.

Because she wasn’t just your Omega.

She was your religion.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

End.