Stories about Y/n creating bonds with characters from series and films.
(I don't own the characters)
PG-13!
1. **Language:** Mild to moderate profanity, but not extreme or pervasive.
2. **Violence:** Some intense or realistic violence may be present...
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The neon glow of Seoul's skyline pulsed in the distance as Rumi stood alone in her penthouse apartment, her voice weaving through the heavy bass of Nicki Minaj's "Big Foot" blasting from her speakers. Her half-demon heritage gave her voice an otherworldly edge, a sultry vibrato that could make hearts race or demons tremble. She swayed, lost in the rhythm, her long black hair streaked with crimson catching the light. As the leader of HUNTR/X, the K-pop sensation secretly moonlighting as demon hunters, Rumi balanced fame and bloodshed with a smirk and a sword. But tonight, her mind wasn't on the stage or the hunt—it was on *her*.
The door slammed open, and Y/n stormed in, her face flushed with panic. "Rumi, have you seen Mira and Zoey?" she asked, her voice sharp enough to cut through the music.
Rumi hit pause, the silence jarring. "Now that you mention it... not since yesterday afternoon. They were supposed to meet me for choreography practice, but they bailed." Her amber eyes, flecked with demonic gold, narrowed. "What's going on?"
Y/n shoved her phone in Rumi's face, the screen playing a Fox News broadcast. A reporter stood at the docks, interviewing a man with "Sexy Uncut Latino" tattooed across his neck in bold, garish ink. His name, Stephen, flashed across the screen. "Sh*t just got real," he said, the curse bleeped out for network TV. "This huge-ass monster came outta nowhere, attacked me and my boys at the docks. Kept playin' K-pop music, I swear, and there were these lights under the water, like some sci-fi sh*t!"
The reporter chuckled, clearly thinking it was a prank. Rumi's jaw tightened. "K-pop music and underwater lights? That's no coincidence. That's a demon. And Mira and Zoey probably went after it without me."
Y/n's eyes widened, her voice trembling but resolute. "We have to save them, Rumi. Something's wrong. I can feel it."
Rumi leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "And how exactly do we do that? We don't even know where they are."
Y/n was already halfway to the door. "We start with that guy, Stephen. He's a drug dealer, hangs out at a warehouse by the docks. I know where to find him. He'll tell us what he saw."
Rumi grabbed Y/n's wrist, pulling her back with a playful grin. Her demon side loved to push boundaries, and the tension between them had been simmering for weeks. "Hold up. What if I said we could stay here instead? Just you and me. No demons, no drama. We could... you know." Her voice dropped, suggestive, her fingers lingering on Y/n's arm.
Y/n's cheeks flushed, but she swatted Rumi's hand away, laughing despite the urgency. "You're so damn adorable when you're begging for sex, but this is serious. Mira and Zoey could be in trouble. Come on!"
Rumi sighed dramatically, grabbing her leather jacket. "Fine. But I'm holding you to that later."
It was seven in the evening when they reached the docks, the air thick with salt and the faint tang of blood. Stephen's warehouse was a grimy fortress of rusted metal and flickering lights. Inside, Stephen sat at a folding table, scarfing down croissants while packing bags of cocaine with practiced precision. The faint hum of K-pop drifted from a radio in the corner, an eerie echo of his earlier claims.
