theshadowsden

[theshadowsden]

Thanks for the 100 followers! I appreciate it yall <3

[theshadowsden]

Hey guys, thought I should give you yall an update!

The next part will be coming out when I get a chance to write it.

I've just been very busy with work as of late ^^;

[theshadowsden]

Part 6

With a buzz on your mind and full of adrenaline from what you did earlier, you chuckled softly to yourself as you calmed yourself down. That was the most intense and best thing you've ever done in your life. The production team is going to have a field day after your antics to try and cover up what you just did to the huntrix concert. Oops. Not your problem.

You waited by the downstairs elevator with the crew team for huntrix as you spotted Bobby and you gave him a little wave and a small smile as you scrolled through your phone.

"Was that your idea to crash the concert?" Bobby had asked as he saw countless video recordings when you had killed the lights after huntrix had finished their own song on his own phone.

"Mostly," you replied with a smile. "The girls know I have a dramatic flair with how I come out with songs." You chuckled with an amused smile as Bobby did a slight eye roll.

"They also have their own flair it seems, as they did drop out of the sky?" You mused with a grin, showing Bobby a recording from a fan that had recorded it. "I take it that wasn't planned?"

"Oh most certainly and definitely not! But the fans absolutely loved it! And your concert crashing wasn't either but look at the numbers on the chart! The fans are loving it!" He exclaimed as he scrolled on his phone, looking at the top idol chart.

The sound of an elevator broke both of you out of your conversation, and the three girls immediately saw both of you. You gave a wave towards them, as Bobby immediately went into manager mode, fretting over them as if he were their dad. You followed after them, as the group of staff dispersed, and the girls could finally talk to you.

"Hey! What's the big idea crashing our concert!" You heard Zoey say in fake annoyance, no heat in her tone.

"It was a pretty sick crash though, you gotta admit that," Mira said, with approval with a slight nod in response and respect.

Rumi, looked up from her phone as she addressed you. "Was that one of your new songs? It was pretty good. Dramatic for sure though, killing the lights on the stage?" She mused with an amused tone. "Now that is dramatic."

You rolled your eyes at what Rumi had said. "Calling me dramatic? You three legit fell out of the sky as if it was a normal thing to do! And as if it was a normal occurrence!

All four of you locked eyes and stiffled a laugh bubbling in your throats. Zoey with eyes shining immediately wrapped you up in a side hug.

"You should come with us to our penthouse and play 'couch' with us!" The bubbly girl exclaimed.

"Oh I don't want to impose on your hiatus guys," you said waving your hands in front of you.

Mira then had to pull Zoey away from you as if she was glued towards your side. "Nah, you wouldn't be imposing at all. We get to chill for the next couple of weeks," Mira replied simply missing Rumi's smirk as she was looking down at her phone.

"We would be honored to have you to join us in our time off!" Rumi said happily after looking up.

"You guys really sure?" They all nodded in agreement with smiles. "Alright, you guys twisted my arm." You said, hearing the excitement coming off of Zoey in waves. A bit too literal, as you noticed the essence of the Honmoon around the three, slightly tinged with gold. What the hell? That's new.

You gave a small smile to mask your confused face as you followed the three towards a parked limo.

----

Traffic was lightwork, and the four of you quickly arrived at the penthouse with you following after Rumi, with Zoey and Mira in the front.

Your keen eye sight noticed Rumi hovering above a button on her phone as you idly heard Zoey's and Mira's conversation.

"Mmm! I can't wait to eat kimbap and stare at the ceiling." You heard Mira say. The ever bubbly girl replied with something about turtles as you made your way to sit down on one of the two couches in the main room.

"I already picked a movie for us. It's actually a list of 700 two-second videos all about turtles."

You where right, it was about turtles. You gave a chuckle at the antics of the duo in front of you as you watched them both snuggle into the couch with a bunch of food. Only to see Rumi, with a sly grin appear from behind it, without the bathrobe the other two where currently wearing.

You watched on as Zoey and Mira cried in disbelief and in disappointment as they could no longer relax until Rumi turned towards you with a sly smirk.

"Uh oh, I don't like that look." You remarked with fear laced in your voice as you saw her disappear in a backroom and re-appear with clothes similar to the ones they were wearing.

"This is different and not my style.." You remarked slightly to yourself, seeing the black, gold, and white colors on the clothes you were basically forced into wearing. Sure they fit the trio, but not you, definitely not.

Out of nowhere, you heard Gwi-Ma's voice as it startled you, panicking, you quickly locked the bathroom door with heavy breaths and frantic eyes, as you held your head with your hands.

'Still playing pretend? You know you can't escape me forever, (Y/N). Try as you might, you won't escape the mark you have on your soul. It will only be a matter of time till you realize what you are. And when you do, i will be waiting."

As quickly as the voice came, it was gone. Heavy breaths came from you as you settled your breathing. As you saw the purple marks on your hands, most of them were covered by the clothing. With shaky hands, you calmed and soothed yourself. You brushed yourself off and fixed your hair, in the mirror, as the yellow eyes begin dimming in your reflection.

As soon as you stepped out, Bobby came through the door of the penthouse.

"The new single is on fire! Everyone is listening to it!" Bobby exclaimed in excitement.

All four of you put your hands in the air in happiness, you were a little more reserved though. You were being slightly forced to promo the new song, but you guessed it was payback for crashing the concert.

"Let's go promo!" Bobby yelled, ripping off his bathrobe, revealing gold and black clothes underneath.

The next few hours were a blur, constant media interviews, and with the press asking you questions about why you were even helping them promo the new song in the first place. And with questions about you crashing the concert in the first place. You simply replied with;

"Because I wanted to make a mark on the industry. No one else has done it before, from what I understand. Why not debut a song with a bang?" You had replied to the interviewer.

Rumi smoothed everything out in the end by saying that it was a friendly bet that you lost, but you knew better.

"It was for the concert crashing wasn't it?" You asked when you got a moment to yourselves, getting ready for the show tonight. Stretching yourself out, getting all the pre show jitters and stress out.

"Oh definitely was." Rumi said with a closed eye smile.

The show was to go on planned, with Mira and Zoey being the dancers, with Rumi being the main vocalist. And you? You were to be a backup vocalist with Rumi.

Practice for the show went smoothly, until it wasn't. When both you and Rumi went to go reach for the high note, both of your voices were lost in your throat, as both your voices faltered.

You both looked at each other in confusion.

You laid a hand on Rumi's shoulder as both Zoey and Mira looked at you two in concern.

"You okay Rumi? (Y/N)? You guys need some water at all?" You overhead Bobby ask from below.

"Yeah, we are fine, once more from the top." Rumi signaled to start the song up once more and the same thing happened once more, both your voices faltered. Though Rumi had a more pained expression on her face, you realized. As she rushed off to take five minutes.

"But the show starts in 10?" You mumbled out, as someone else voiced your same thoughts.

Zoey and Mira went up to you, with concern etched in their faces.

"Are you okay?" Zoey asked, laying a hand on your shoulder with Mira laying a hand on your other.

"I should be, maybe the stress of the day is getting to me.." You trailed off. "I don't think that Rumi is okay though, she seemed pretty pained when her voice cracked." You said to the two other girls.

"We should go back to the penthouse and wait for Rumi to come back." Mira voiced her thoughts. And both you and Zoey nodded in agreement.

As you walked with the two other girls, you couldn't help but feel bad for Bobby as he had to deal with the aftermath of canceling a show that was promised to thousands of fans.

After you three got settled in the house in some nice comfy clothes, Rumi had arrived. All three of you came over to her and gave her a big hug.

"It'll be okay, Rumi. We will get through it." You voiced over some nice food at the table as the other two were in agreement.

But your inner voice was struggling with the concept of what caused your own voice to falter? It never has before today?

What is going on?

A/N: things are heating up, next chapter we meet the Saja Boys ;)

Taglist: @your-favorite-god @satansdaughter123 @moochiwoochi

[theshadowsden]

The ideas I get when im just waking up before work are crazy, its like my subconscious knows im yearning for ideas later in the story.

The reveal for the reader being a demon will be something >:)

And I'm so thankful for all of the support, the reblogs, and the likes. It makes me feel good knowing you guys are enjoying this idea i have <3

[theshadowsden]

Part 5

The crowds around the stadium where almost deafening with the constant screaming of chanting fans, with light sticks glowing at the top ends in the iconic 'h' design at the top of them. Posters, signs and anything you could think of that the fans had created, they were there in the stadium. The only ones that weren't there, where the three girls themselves.

Rumi, Mira, and Zoey where high up in the plane, doing their routine pre show snacking. The three where then contacted by Bobby with a panicking tone asking where they where. The three where pissed to say the least, as they got interrupted on the snacking they wanted to complete.

With narrowed eyes from the three, they turned their heads to face the fake airplane staff. The airplane staff where quickly found out that they were in fact demons, that where trying to stop them from performing tonight to not seal the honmoon for a bit.

Meanwhile, you on the other hand the greatest idea ever. You were gonna crash the stage with your next biggest hit song that you came up with, friendly competition of course. Being an idol now, you of course met them (and freaked out a little bit on seeing them) but quickly became friends with the girl group. But kept your distance.

You knew what they were after all, demon hunters. You saw the weapons that they used, and summoned, if you stepped a foot out of line, you'd probably be dead, or six foot underneath the honmoon.

A little while later, you managed to climb into the rafters of the stage, waiting for the best opportunity. You watched as the girls performed in perfect synchronization, and with all three of them sending demons back to hell in pink smoke with the pink glowing weapons they used.

You watched over the crowd, seeing them all cheer as the song was nearing its end. The three girls ended the song with striking a pose and the crowd went wild. The fans yelling in excitement.

With a faint snap of your fingers, you used a faint bit of demon magic you managed to control over the short term of starting as a new idol. The lights on the stage went out, with the stadium being plunged into pitch darkness.

You smirked at the confusion of the crowd, and the three girls as the lights came back on with the soundtrack of your new song. With the backdrop logo being changed to your label. The crowd went wild seeing you appear so casually as you began to sing.

"You know who it is, Coming 'round again

You want a dose of this right now, It's K/DA, uh!"

You started, as the crowd went absolutely wild seeing you. "I'm a goddess with a blade

소리쳐봐 내 이름 잊지 못하게 loud, loud, loud, loud

I could take it to the top 절대 멈추지 못해

내가 끝내주는 bad gal, gal, gal." You sang while doing the dancing in perfect timing, your tone shifted as the music turned slower and more melodic. "Oh, when I start to talk like that (like that) Oh, you won't know how to react, I'm a picture perfect face, With that wild in my veins You can hear it in my growl, growl, growl, growl."

You paused, doing some more dancing as the stage and the crowd all but disappeared as you went into your world, losing yourself in the music. Seeing the shocked look on Mira, Rumi, and Zoey's faces made you laugh slightly to yourself. Even though you are technically rivals, it wasn't anything but friendly competition.

"So keep your eyes on me now 무엇을 보든 좋아할 거야 닿을 수 없는 level, 나와 대결 원한 널 확신해, We gotta it all in our hands now, So can you handle what we're all about, We're so tough (tough) not scared to show you up (up), Can you feel the rush now?"

You sang slowly, then started bringing up the pace as the beat dropped.

"Ain't nobody bringing us Down, down, down, down, down, down, They could try, but we're gonna wear the crown You could go another round Round, round, round, round, round, round Wish you luck, but you're not bringing us down~

We go hard 'til we get it, get it, We go hard, we so in it, in it, We pop stars (pop stars) Only winning, winning now~ Ain't nobody bringing us Down, down, down, down."

You took a breath as the next part was the most intense of the song, "Hey! You ready for this (Let's go!)"

"See 언제든지 내 모습 magic

단 한 번에 내가 잡어, 절대 기죽지 않지 uh!

Pow, pow 니가 뭘 알어? (알아)

견딜 수 없어, 원해도 (해도)

원하는 게 얼굴에 보여

I'm trouble and you're wanting it

I'm so cold (so cold)

When I move that way, you gon' be so blown (so blown)

I'm the realest in the game, uh!"

You went hard on the rap, putting Zoey's skills to shame, only slightly.

"Say I'm on fire with a blade

You're about to hear my name

Ringing in your head like

Whoa-uh-uh, uh-uh-oh."

You once again started to sing slowly on the next verse, then brought in the intensity, doing everything in your power to keep the crowd locked onto you.

"So keep your eyes on me now

무엇을 보든 좋아할 거야

We're so tough (tough)

Not scared to show you up (up)

Can you feel the rush now?"

You took a breather for a moment, swaying in the music as the crowd went wild for your new song, the demonic side of your soul feasting on the adoration of the fans. The side no longer feeling restless as it got what it wanted.

"Ain't nobody bringing us

Down, down, down, down, down, down

They could try, but we're gonna wear the crown

You could go another round

Round, round, round, round, round, round

Wish you luck, but you're not bringing us down

We go hard 'til we get it, get it

We go hard, we so in it, in it

We pop stars (pop stars)

Only winning, winning now

Ain't nobody bringing us

Down, down, down, down."

You trailed off, letting the instrumental play as you threw a smoke bomb on stage, disappearing from view to catch your breath, smiling to yourself. This is what you wanted to do when you were younger, and it excited you to your core, making others happy as you performed on a stage in front of thousands of fans.

"Hmm-mm, ooh-ooh, Umm

Oh 난 멈추지 않아

Oh, oh, we go hard

Oh, oh, we pop stars (stars), stars (stars)."

You sang, appearing in the center of the stage as the crowd goes wild seeing you appear once again.

"Ain't nobody bringing us

Down, down, down, down, down, down

They could try, but we're gonna wear the crown

You could go another round

Round, round, round, round, round, round

Wish you luck, but you're not bringing us down

We go hard 'til we get it, get it

We go hard, we so in it, in it

We pop stars (pop stars)

Only winning, winning now

Ain't nobody bringing us

Down, down, down, down."

You finished, striking a pose on center stage out of breath but happy. You only live once, right? You threw another smoke bomb on the stage, after doing a finger heart and then promptly disappeared backstage as the huntrix trio followed suit.

A/N: Sorry that I pushed the girls to the side for this part lol. It was mainly a reader-centered chapter as I loved this idea of what would happen if a new idol crashed a concert. Next part will definitely have the reader interacting more with the girls.

See you all next time <3

Taglist @your-favorite-god

[theshadowsden]

I heavily desire Mira KPDH content

Headcanons for Mira x Tall!Fem!Reader?

Basically anything has to do with Reader(us) being taller than Mira

I'm stuck being 5'2 for the rest of my life, a user can dream unfortunately...

💫

In my opinion, and in my own headcannon, I believe that Zoey is the shortest, then Rumi, and then Mira. She got them long legs let's be honest here. Its just hidden all the time with her long as heck sleepwear when she's not in idol clothes.

And another thing, she uses a spear/polearm I believe? Let's be honest here, having extra height using that would be an advantage. Mira wouldn't be toppling over constantly and would lean into her height advantage helping herself out. A weapon with two blades at the end would be hard to use imo without knowing counter balance.

But when you suddenly show up, being taller than her? Oh boy. I feel like she would make it a competition. And you would obviously join in on it, with both of you guys putting things in the most out of reach places.

Unfortunately for Rumi and Zoey of course, poor girls. They always get caught up in the two of your antics. Rumi manages by with being the second tallest, but Zoey absolutely struggles when you guys get into a friendly height competition.

Even though she's stoic as hell, she's easy to read. Easy to tease as well, and easy to annoy (see the saja fan event LMAO)

Mira would 100%, in secret, ask for piggyback rides, even though she says she hates it. She has a big red blush on her face.

If Zoey or Rumi saw her on your shoulders, they would 100% never let you guys live it down. Rumi would also 100% be a blushing mess, and threaten them to never speak of what they saw.

You would also tease her with nicknames commonly associated with shorter people. Even though she's furious, giving you a needle like glare, she has a big giant blush on her face. And when she's like that, you can't take her seriously. Ever.

100% would surprise her by scooping her up to help her reach what she wanted by putting her on your shoulders.

"Thought you could use some help, short-stack?"

You received a pointed glare, with a blushing face, and with her hiding her face in her hands for a bit, before she gives a sigh and gets what she wanted in the first place.

100% IS THE LITTLE SPOON WITH YOU

Will also ask, with a blushing face to cuddle you as she wants to be protected by your bigger frame. Not that she would tell anyone, or even you face to face. It would be all over her face, and her ears, as Mira would be as red as a tomato.

It was the middle of the day, after the girls had finished a signing event. And all of them were tired, feeling mentally drained. Idol work was rough and tiring. Zoey was burying herself into a video of turtles, and Rumi was busy with practicing the next music score. The usual for her, the constant overworker. Meanwhile, Mira was playing nonchalant in her attitude as she scrolled on her phone laughing silently at some funny stuff she found.

When her eyes met yours when you walked through that door she almost wanted to cling to you like a koala. But she stopped herself as you sat down next to her, with your chin resting on her shoulder, watching the same videos as her. With Mira unknowingly pressing her back into your frame.

A couple of minutes later, she had shifted to where she was in your lap, head resting on your shoulder as she fought off sleep. A second later she was knocked out, falling asleep on you. Clinging to you in her sleep, stress falling away on her face, the days stress going away in a moments notice. Then you quickly fell suit, holding her in your arms as if you were protecting her in your sleep.

A little while later, Rumi and Zoey found you both passed out on the couch, holding on each other, and both of them smirked at one another.

The sound of a camera clicking woke up Mira almost instantly, and she glared, albeit sleepily at the two.

"Delete that now."

"Why should we? You two are so cute together." Zoey and Rumi said in a hushed whisper.

Ears red, and with slight annoyance she had gotten up without waking you up and snatched both of their phones and quickly deleted it.

"No one else gets to see me like this." She said simply and walked back over to you and went back to sleep in your arms.

Total tomboy attitude towards defending her image with you around, and being soft.

Even though they had taken a picture the first time around, they always manage to get more sneakily.

If Mira catches them, she ends up chasing them, with threats, (friendly of course) and sometimes gets you to chase them with her.

When sleeping in the same bed, Mira always ends up in your arms, she says its not intentional

It is very much so intentional that she ends up in your arms

Loves the fact that you can scoop her up into a big hug and just disappear in your frame for awhile.

A/N: have been working on this the entire day while at work ahaha, I definitely enjoyed writing this. And i hope you guys do to? <3

See you guys next time <3

[theshadowsden]

This is will be helpful 👀

How a Character’s Anger Can Show Up Quietly

Anger doesn’t always slam doors. Sometimes it simmers. Sometimes it cuts.

╰ They go still. Not calm... still. Like something is pulling tight inside them.

╰ They smile, but their eyes? Cold. Flat. Done.

╰ Their voice gets quieter, not louder. Controlled. Measured. Weaponized.

╰ They ask questions they already know the answers to, just to watch someone squirm.

╰ Their words are clipped. Polite. But razor-sharp.

╰ They laugh once. Without humor. You know the one.

╰ They leave the room without explanation, and when they come back? Different energy. Ice where fire was.

[theshadowsden]

Might end up writing this with demon hunters 👀

Soft prompts to make you YEARN

✭ brushing your thumb over their knuckles while you're both not saying a word, just existing quietly in the same space like it's the most sacred thing.

✭ them absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sleeve because they want to touch you but aren’t ready to say it yet.

✭ “can i kiss you?” whispered like they’re afraid the moment might shatter if they speak too loud.

✭ their voice cracking just a little when they say your name for the first time in a long time.

✭ them resting their forehead against yours and just… staying there. No words. No movement. Just breath. Just nearness.

✭ sharing headphones and they keep looking at you during the best part of the song. you don’t even know what the song means to them but suddenly it means everything to you.

✭ "stay the night?" said so soft it might’ve been a wish.

✭ dragging their fingers gently down your back like they’re trying to memorize the map of your spine.

✭ tracing your features with their fingertip like you're a sculpture in a museum and they were not supposed to touch you, but god, they can’t help it.

✭ “don’t leave yet.” not because you’re going somewhere. but because being with you is the safest they’ve felt all day.

✭ their voice in the dark. low. quiet. like the night is just for you two.

✭ "this reminded me of you" and it’s just a stupid rock or a weird leaf but you hold onto it like it's a diamond because it's you to them.

✭ laying in bed, face smushed into the pillow, sleep-drunk and murmuring, “you make me feel like i’m home.”

✭ them looking at you like you're not just a person, but their favorite story. one they’ve been rereading since forever and still keep finding new parts to fall in love with.

[theshadowsden]

Rules;

If you plan to request something from me, make sure you mention the character and the plot line you like. I will say this now, I'm not a person to write character x oc's as I mainly enjoy reader inserts. The only thing I wish you guys do not request is smut thank you ^^;

I can't write it for the life of me 😂

I'm pretty fair with rules, just nothing outlandish. I will not write anything to do with rape, pedophilia or incest. Or any gross kinks, think you all know which ones. Two more things I won't do are self-harm or sexual harassment. Everyone has scars, yes, but I don't feel comfortable writing these topics. Thanks for understanding!

Most fics will be female-centered or gender neutral, as I like to cater to everyone here <3

Happy requesting <3

[theshadowsden]

Alright yall, ive convinced myself to do this. After seeing the amount of love on my jinu post (almost 100 notes already? Thanks so much 😭? Never thought my rambling would get this much love)

Ask box is currently open, and a rules post will be going up shortly <3

[theshadowsden]

I have a request for Jinu, man is very clumsy and easily scared,

Imagine a reader who is dead silent and just kinda shows up places constantly scaring him and throwing him off of whatever confident front he’s trying to put on.

Thing is reader isn’t even trying, they’re just like that, and thinks his reactions are hilarious.

Ghostly reader and their jumpy Jinu 💕

I have a feeling that with having mystery around he would be used to getting snuck up on at random points in the day, with no footsteps or any indication that someone was around

Though that all changed when he met you.

It would seem that somehow mystery had duplicated when you two started being a couple.

Sure he could see mystery of all people sneaking up on him without footsteps but you? He never saw it coming in the first place.

Queue one fateful encounter you two had one day;

It was a nice day, nothing important to do. The Saja Boys didn't have anything scheduled for the day, no fan meets, no recording sessions etc. So it wasn't a total surprise that you were over with them, relaxing.

Jinu was obviously deep in thought, as he skimmed through paper work on the desk he was sitting at, so he hadn't even noticed the fact that you were near him at first, till he did a double take and almost fell out of his chair. You looked at him with a curious look on your face as his focused look was struggling to come back.

"You okay there Jinu?" You asked blinking curiously, noticing a strained smile as he tried to steady his breathing at the sudden jumpscare.

After a breath he didn't know he was holding, he cleared his throat.

"Y..yeah..." He said with trying to keep his composure, trying to steady himself back into a cool composure fit for an idol, recovering from you scaring him. You walked over to him, and placed a small kiss to his temple and sauntered off, side eying his face and laughing as his face turned red.

With a mystery 2.0 in the mist, he thought he was safe, making sure he was alert. Though having his head on a swivel didn't help much, as it almost never worked out.

Even though Jinu was a cool, composed person--well a demon, he still spooked easily, even with having plans to not get spooked by you. Though at every stop, all plans fail as soon as he thinks of one.

The second time, you almost gave him a heart attack when he saw you;

The second time you scared him was when he was trying to cook dinner. He was deep in thought, as he looked at the inside of the fridge of the Saja house. Burying himself into the depths of the fridge, he pulled out the amount of ingredients he needed. Upon closing the doors to the fridge, he almost let out a scream, seeing you so casually standing there.

Jinu, clutching his chest, looked at you with panting breath as he also held onto the dinner ingredients.

"You trying to give me a heart attack?!" He shouted, out of breath, cool composure gone as he placed the ingredients on the countertop. He wouldn't die to your antics, as he is a demon after all, but it is the principle of the matter. This is the second time you've scared him out of appearing out of nowhere. The ravenette watched as you laughed again, like the first time, and saw you walk off to who knows where.

The last and final time was when he really wasn't expecting it.

He really didn't expect you to scare him in front of the entire group.

His entire cool idol personality was shattered when you had scared him like Rumi.

You may or may not have talked to her. You won't confirm or deny the information, even after Jinu asked.

It was the hour after a fan meet, the Saja Boys had just finished up the event, and Jinu was casually leaning against a wall, wondering where you where. The ravenette looked around the street, being casual, with small waves towards the fans that were still around keeping appearances.

He then turned and did a double-take, seeing you appear out of nowhere, crouching on the wall. You grinned down at him as he crouched down, clutching the brick wall with wide eyes, and mouth agape, catching his breath looking at you.

The rest of the boys either looked on in amusement at the situation or where laughing at Jinu. Who knew that the most serious, composed demon in hell could get so easily flustered by his s/o.

"Why must you do this do me?" Jinu gasped out, sending silent daggers, with a flash of golden towards the rest of the band.

You chuckled, stepping down of the half-wall.

"Because its the funniest thing ever, seeing you get startled so easily." You chuckled.

"Soon you will be learning things from Mystery." Jinu said with some slight annoyance.

"...may have already started..?" You said as Jinu rolled his eyes and put his hands on his face, seemingly accepting defeat.

"You are insufferable....you know that?" Jinu said with a sigh.

You took his hands away from his face and gave him a smile.

"You know you love me, Jinu. You wouldn't trade me for anything and you know it." You said with a cheeky smile, looking at him.

"Mmm, not sure after all the jumpscares you've done." Jinu said cheekily, with his standard smirk.

You matched his smirk back. "You've dealt with Mystery's shenanigans, can't deal with mine?"

"I can grow used to it...just don't go planning on doing things along with him."

He missed the evil look in your eyes as you began to already plan more jumpscares.

A/N: hopefully you guys enjoyed this? First ever request ive gotten, and I feel like Jinu is out of character. But he is basiclly a looser is a hot man's body sooooo....we ball.

Also this is the first time ive written for Jinu, so he might be out of character. This is mostly all head cannons and me yapping ^^;

Hopefully you guys enjoys it <3

[theshadowsden]

I love having free will and I can write what I like and what I think of cuz I just thought of this banger idea for the fanfic ^^

[theshadowsden]

mmm this man is too damm fine

THE TWIN SIN — 𝖩𝖨𝖭𝖴 𝖲𝖠𝖩𝖠

WORD COUNT. 4,802 GENRE. dark romance, erotic romance, tragedy, && drama. CONTENT CONTAINS. suggestive, twin conflict, betrayal, distress, && reader & rumi are twins. PART ONE ! PART TWO ! PART THREE !

𐔌՞꜆. ̫.꜀՞𐦯

it’s been a week since everything crumbled.

since rumi’s voice cracked the foundation of your shared world — not with screams, but with the kind of betrayal that doesn’t need volume to echo. seven days since she found out. seven days since jinu touched you like you were the only thing that ever made sense, only to vanish like smoke the moment everything caught fire.

the house has been different since. not too cold, but cautious. filled with soft avoidance and silence that has said more than words ever could. rumi hasn’t spoke to you in any way either. not directly. not in sentences. not in questions. she’s made herself a shadow, appearing only when you’re out of sight, like you’re both performing a silent dance of grief. every door closes quietly. every movement is careful. even your footsteps feel too loud.

you stopped trying to force anything by day three. the guilt made your body feel heavy. it slowed your breathing and twisted your thoughts until even blinking felt like betrayal. so you stayed in your room, under blankets that smelled like a memory you weren’t brave enough to bury, waiting for her to yell again, or cry, or knock. but she didn’t.

until day four.

you stepped out into the hallway, groggy and unsure, and she was there — walking past, not fast, not angry. just… existing in the same space again. and she didn’t flinch. didn’t flee. didn’t even look at you. but she didn’t run.

it was enough.

by day five, something changed again. you came out late, after hearing the clatter of pots and pans, and found the stove still warm. a small pot of your favorite stew — spicy, just the way you like it — left with the lid halfway open like it had been waiting. rumi’s cooking. the kind she only makes when she’s in a good headspace, when she’s trying to take care of people. you didn’t cry right away. you just stood there, hand trembling on the counter, watching steam rise like ghosts. when mira entered the kitchen and asked if you were okay, you nodded too quickly. she didn’t believe you — not really — but she didn’t push either. just gave you a look that said: i know. and i’m still here.

because they all knew. mira. zoey. everyone. your silence hadn’t been enough to mask what happened. your swollen eyes, your late nights, the way jinu hadn’t stepped foot in the house again — it all said enough. but still, they never treated you differently. they didn’t pity you, didn’t ice you out, didn’t whisper. they didn’t coddle you either. and that, somehow, hurt even more. like they were already waiting for the fallout. like they always knew this would end with something broken.

by day six, rumi didn’t avoid you when you passed in the hallway. she didn’t leave the room just because you were in it. she even told you to clean up your coffee mug, rolled her eyes when you played music too loud in the morning. she didn’t smile, not yet, but she wasn’t hiding anymore. her presence felt real again. like a sister. like her.

and now — day seven — she’s in the kitchen, humming something old under her breath as she stirs a pan on the stove. you walk in slowly, expecting her to go quiet. she doesn’t. she just glances over and gestures to a plate, already made for you. you sit. you eat. she doesn’t talk, but her being there is loud enough. it’s a ritual. a language. one you’ve spoken since you were little girls — the way rumi feeds the people she forgives.

the house feels more like home again.

your heart should feel lighter. your bones should ache less. this should feel like healing.

but jinu hasn’t come back.

not once.

not a text. not a call. not even a shadow outside your window.

you tell yourself it’s better this way. that his absence is the only reason you and rumi are on speaking terms again. that things are repairing themselves because he’s not here. and maybe that’s true. maybe he was the fracture. maybe his touch made everything worse.

but in the quiet, you wonder.

is he a coward?

was that all you were — a thrill, a mistake, a way to ruin what he couldn’t reach directly?

or worse: did he win? did he come into your lives just to set the match and walk away while it burned?

you try not to believe that. but you do.

and then you don’t.

because the memory of his touch is too soft to be malicious.

his voice too reverent.

his eyes too real when he told you he loved you.

you shake the thoughts off and watch rumi sip her tea from across the couch. she doesn’t look angry. not today. and that should be enough.

she’s here.

she’s humming.

and for the first time in days, she tells you: “you can pick the movie.”

and you smile.

because maybe — just maybe — that’s something close to forgiveness.

a few minutes in, and you don’t even realize you’ve zoned out.

rumi’s talking — something about the way mira forgot to lock up after practice, and how zoey nearly blew up half the weapons room over it. her voice is soft, the edges of her sentences rounded now. no more jagged pauses. no more brittle restraint. it feels like before.

you sip your tea and nod when you’re supposed to, but your mind is slipping.

because no matter how much warmer things feel now — how quiet the storm has grown — there’s still one thought that won’t die.

what if you saw him again?

not in a memory. not in a dream. not behind closed eyes where it’s safe to pretend he never touched you that way.

no — what if jinu walked through that door?

what would you say?

would you scream? hit him? would your body betray you all over again?

would you let him touch you?

your fingers tighten around the cup in your hands, and the heat nearly stings your skin.

you don’t know.

you don’t trust yourself to know.

because no matter how much guilt you’ve swallowed, no matter how deeply you’ve buried his name, there’s still that part of you — that soft, treacherous ache in your chest — that wants him to explain himself.

you want to ask him why he left. you want to hear if it meant anything. you want to know if he’s been hurting too.

and maybe… maybe you want him to say he missed you.

but that’s not reality.

you know that.

you’ve been telling yourself that for a week.

and then — as if the thought itself was a curse — the air changes.

you feel it before you see it. like static. like a shift in gravity. like all the warmth in your spine goes still.

you turn your head toward the hallway.

and there he is.

jinu.

standing just a few feet away, half in shadow, half lit by the soft golden hue of the living room light. his hair is a little messier than usual. his mouth is slightly open. his eyes — god, those eyes — are locked on you like he’s just seen something breakable.

and worse…

he looks sorry.

not performative. not fake.

not smug or charming or slick.

just — sorry.

you don’t say a word.

your mouth opens like it wants to, like maybe your body already knew this moment would come and has prepared a thousand things to scream, to demand, to cry.

but none of them come out.

your chest is too tight. your ribs too loud. your hands tremble against your cup.

he doesn’t move.

he just stands there, swallowing like it hurts, shoulders slightly drawn in, like he’s finally feeling the weight of what he’s done.

and all you can think is:

why now?

why did he come back?

why does your heart feel like it’s beating in your throat?

and why — after all this — do you still want to run to him?

your body is burning.

not from fever — not really — but from something hotter and crueler: the way jinu’s eyes found yours across the room and made every breath catch, every nerve tighten. he didn’t speak. didn’t move. he just stood there, like a haunting. a memory with a pulse.

and you felt everything inside you unravel.

you grip your cup too tightly, your knuckles aching, your mouth suddenly too dry. you can’t let rumi see this. can’t let her sense the quake building under your skin. your sister is sitting so close, her voice still soft from before, her body relaxed in a way that hasn’t happened in days — and you refuse to destroy that.

not again.

so you make yourself breathe. slow. shallow. controlled. you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to stop it from trembling. then — with the lightest shake to your voice — you murmur, “i don’t feel so good…”

rumi’s head snaps toward you, immediate concern flaring in her eyes. “what’s wrong?”

you let your shoulders dip, fingers ghosting over your temple like you’ve only just noticed it. “dizzy. little warm. might just be a bug.” you manage a weak smile, biting the inside of your cheek to stop your voice from cracking. “could you maybe… make me some more tea? i think i just need to lay down for a while.”

she’s already rising from her seat before you finish, coming to crouch in front of you and pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “you’re warm,” she says, voice low and laced with worry. “why didn’t you say something earlier?”

you shrug, playing the part. “didn’t feel it until now.”

she sighs, already turning toward the kitchen. “go. i’ll get the tea. i’ll make stew too — the ginger kind, it helps with fevers.”

you nod and try not to look too eager to leave. “thank you,” you whisper.

and just as you step toward the hallway, you let out a small, dry cough. twice. light enough to sound real. not enough to raise alarm.

rumi glances over her shoulder, mouth drawn tight in a frown. “get in bed,” she orders, voice softer now. “i’ll bring everything.”

you nod again, more grateful than she could ever know — and head for the hallway, heart pounding like a war drum.

he’s still there.

jinu stands like a statue just around the corner, where light from the kitchen dies into shadow. his gaze follows you as you approach, mouth parting like he might say something — apologize, explain, beg — but there’s no time for any of it.

you reach for him without thinking.

your hand wraps around his arm — not harshly, but with purpose — and you tug him behind you, through the darkened hallway. your grip tightens once you’re out of sight. your steps are fast. deliberate. no time for second-guessing.

your door closes behind you with a quiet click, and for a moment… silence.

you don’t face him yet.

your hand is still on his arm.

your breathing’s uneven.

your skin is still flushed, but not from fever.

you can feel him watching you.

like he doesn’t know whether to speak or disappear.

and part of you doesn’t know what you’ll say either.

but you do know this: you couldn’t let him walk away. not again. not without something.

you finally look at him.

his expression is unreadable. part shame, part confusion, part something else entirely — something dangerous. something yearning. his lips part like he’s going to say your name, and that alone makes your stomach twist. because the way he says it has always been a weakness. because the way he looks at you has always been a trap.

“you—” his voice breaks the silence first, sharp and too loud. he cuts himself off and lowers it into a whisper, a whisper still laced with fire. “you shouldn’t have pulled me in here.”

your jaw clenches. “you shouldn’t have shown up at all.”

his mouth opens. shuts. his gaze falls to the floor, then back to you. “i had to see you.”

“now?” your voice cracks, but it stays quiet, harsh and brittle like cracked glass. “you disappear for a week — nothing, not even a text — and now you show up while she’s finally starting to forgive me?”

jinu steps forward, just once. not threatening. not dramatic. but close enough that you can smell him again — that maddening mix of heat and sweetness, danger and something almost holy. it makes your heart stutter.

“i didn’t know what to say,” he whispers. “i didn’t know if i should.”

you scoff, bitter and soft. “you think i did?”

his hand twitches at his side. you watch it like it might strike. it doesn’t.

instead, he swallows hard and hisses through clenched teeth, “i missed you.”

your whole body flinches.

because no matter how low he says it, it lands like thunder.

you shake your head. “you don’t get to say that.”

“why not?”

“because you left. because you let me sit in the middle of everything you caused. because i had to look my sister in the eye and watch her fall apart because of us.”

his voice rises before he can stop it. “i didn’t make you sleep with me.”

you shove his chest, not hard, but hard enough that he stumbles a step back.

“no,” you breathe, voice shaking, “but you made it easy. and you made it feel like it meant something. and then you left like it was nothing at all.”

his hands are clenched now. his jaw tight. you know that look — the one where he’s trying not to explode. the one where his control is slipping.

“it did mean something.”

“then why the hell did you leave?”

he doesn’t answer right away.

the silence stretches.

you can still hear rumi in the kitchen. humming to herself. moving gently. blissfully unaware.

and in here, in this room, you feel like you’re suffocating in everything you never said.

finally — jinu’s voice drops again, to something almost broken.

“because if i stayed… i would’ve said it out loud. and if i said it, it’d make it real. and if it was real, i couldn’t go back.”

you stare at him, stunned still.

he takes one more step toward you, slow this time. deliberate. close enough now to whisper it right against your cheek.

“and baby, i think i want to spend my life with you.”

you stare at him like the words could somehow be undone.

like if you stand still long enough, they’ll fold into the walls and disappear — unspoken. untrue.

but they don’t.

they linger.

“i want to spend my life with you.”

your lips part in disbelief. your lungs squeeze tight. and all you can manage is a whisper — broken, panicked, soft but burning:

“no.”

he frowns, confused. hurt. “what do you mean no?”

“you can’t feel that,” you snap back, but it’s still hushed, still trembling behind your teeth. “you don’t get to feel that.”

“why not?” he takes a half step forward.

“because we were wrong from the start,” you say, voice catching on the truth. “we started this in shadows. in silence. with guilt all over our skin. you had a girlfriend. my twin. and i let you touch me. we let this happen. and now you want to talk about a lifetime?”

his jaw tightens, but his voice stays low. still urgent. still raw. “and what if we fix it? what if we take the mess and make something real out of it?”

you shake your head. “we built something on rot, jinu. it doesn’t matter how many flowers you plant on top — it’s still poison underneath.”

his eyes flicker. “so that’s it? after everything?”

“i slept with you again,” you breathe, “because i thought maybe… maybe that would help me understand what the hell i’m feeling. but it didn’t make this right. it just made it harder to walk away.”

“i don’t want to walk away,” he hisses.

“maybe you should.”

you’re both too close now. the kind of close that makes regret harder to breathe through. you can feel his heartbeat in the space between you, his mouth twitching like he’s about to argue again.

but then—

“hey, i’m bringing your stuff in now,” rumi’s voice calls out from down the hall, casual and close.

your soul drops.

you and jinu whip around at the same time, panic splitting through your veins like cold lightning. he glances at the window, the bathroom, the door.

“where do i go?” he whispers harshly.

“closet or under the bed— now!”

you shove him toward the closet. he slips in just in time, barely making a sound. you adjust the blankets on your bed, swipe your mouth in case it looks kissed, and sit down right as the door creaks open.

rumi steps in with a folded blanket, a small heating pad, and the bottle of tea you left behind.

she gives you a small, sincere smile. it doesn’t reach her eyes, not yet. but it’s the closest to peace she’s worn in a week.

“thought i’d drop these off,” she says, placing them gently on your bed. “tea’s still hot. and you’ll want this for your stomach if it gets worse.”

you nod. your throat is thick. “thank you.”

she sits beside you for a moment, not saying much. the air is full of unsaid things, but none of them sharp. just soft, tired understanding.

rumi pulls you into a side hug, her arm warm and familiar around your shoulders.

“if you need anything,” she says gently, “just let me know, okay? i’m inviting the girls over — mira and zoey — but we’ll keep it quiet.”

you nod again. “thanks.”

she pulls back and looks at you, something soft in her gaze. “rest. we can talk more later.”

and just like that, she leaves.

you don’t move until the sound of her door clicks closed again. and even then, your chest is still rising and falling like you’ve just escaped a trap.

you walk to the closet. open it slowly.

and there he is. breathless. heart pounding. eyes wide.

“you were right,” he whispers, hoarse. “we’re not gonna last like this.”

but his next breath?

“so tell me how to make it right.”

it’s the kind of question that should make your heart leap.

but it sinks.

you cross your arms. not to protect yourself from him — you’re long past that — but to hold yourself still. because every part of you wants to shake. to cry. to let him make it right.

but you’ve carried the truth too long. and it’s heavier than the want.

“you can’t,” you say, voice low. “you can’t make this right.”

his brows draw together instantly. “why not?”

“because it’s already broken.”

he exhales hard through his nose. “that’s not an answer. that’s an excuse.”

you hold your ground. “no. it’s the truth.”

“truth?” he laughs — quiet and bitter. “whose truth? yours? hers? mine?”

“all of ours.”

he steps toward you, close again, and you don’t move away this time.

his voice drops into a whisper — low, harsh, furious but not loud. “you keep acting like i planned this. like i set out to hurt her. like i set out to ruin you. i didn’t. i was just… trying to breathe. and you were the only person who made it feel like i could.”

you shake your head, but he keeps going.

“i didn’t fall in love with you out of spite. i didn’t sneak around because it thrilled me. i did it because you looked at me like i was something worth burning for. and god help me, i let you.”

you blink hard, trying to steel yourself — but your voice is breaking now. “then why did you leave me to hold all of it? why disappear when you knew i’d be the one stuck facing her every day? why—”

“because if i didn’t leave, i would’ve stayed,” he snaps, jaw tight. “and if i stayed, i would’ve told you what i’m telling you now — that you’re it for me. that if there’s a soul i want next to mine for the rest of this fucked-up eternity, it’s yours. not hers.”

you flinch at the mention of her.

rumi. your twin. the one who would give everything to protect you, if only you hadn’t been the one who needed protecting from.

you try to push the thought away, but guilt drags it back like seaweed at your ankles. “she’ll never forgive me.”

“maybe not,” he says. “but are you really gonna give this up just to keep hating yourself?”

you blink again, hard. your voice a whisper now. “this isn’t love. this was built on cheating. on shame. on—”

“on survival.” jinu cuts in, breathing hard. “on being trapped in something we didn’t know how to leave until we found each other. and if you’re gonna stand here and pretend none of that was real, then go ahead. but don’t expect me to lie to myself with you.”

you stare at him, speechless, trembling from the inside out.

and just then—

footsteps.

followed by rumi’s voice, muffled but unmistakable.

“hey, i’m bringing more stuff in right quick.”

you both freeze.

your eyes flick wildly around the room, and jinu moves faster than thought — diving back toward the closet, slipping in just as you pull the blanket back over your legs and swipe your fingers under your eyes to kill any shine.

rumi’s knock is soft. the door opens without waiting.

she walks in carrying another blanket and medicine, followed by more tea, her face calm. tired. but gentle.

“thought you might want the extra stuff,” she says, setting it down beside you. “some cough drops.”

you nod, heart slamming against your ribs. “thanks.”

she sits beside you, just for a moment, and you feel the warmth of her shoulder against yours — the same warmth you grew up with. the same warmth you betrayed.

“you okay?” she asks.

you force a smile. “i think so.”

rumi reaches over, pulls you into a soft hug. a full one this tums. and as her arms wrap around you, your eyes flick toward the closet door.

he’s in there. hiding. listening.

burning.

and still, rumi pulls back and says, “just wanted to check in again. the girls are here now, let me know if we’re too loud, i’ll leave you alone now, i promise.”

you nod. “thank you.”

she stands. smiles once more.

and leaves.

the door closes with a whisper.

you don’t move. not for a long breath. not until the silence settles again and the guilt rises with it.

then jinu’s voice, muffled but clear through the closet:

“still think we’re too broken?”

you move without realizing it.

your body pulls itself across the floor before your thoughts catch up — like your soul’s already decided what your mind is still afraid to say. each step feels heavy, pulled down by everything you’ve been carrying for days. but it’s heavier when you’re standing still. heavier when you’re pretending you don’t want him.

you reach the closet.

open the door.

and there he is.

folded into shadows, breathing like it hurts.

eyes lifted to you like he was praying for this moment — but didn’t think you’d come.

your hands move to his face slowly. trembling. fingertips brushing the sides of his jaw like you’re afraid he might vanish. and before he can speak, you press your lips to his.

the kiss is soft. too soft. it’s almost nothing — the kind of kiss that doesn’t bruise or bite or breathe fire. it’s the kind that holds.

the kind that says, this might destroy me, but i still want to feel it first.

when you finally pull away, your hands are still cupping his face. your voice comes out raw.

“if we do this… if we end up together… it’s going to hurt.”

jinu doesn’t flinch. doesn’t blink. just breathes through the space between you and whispers, “i know.”

“it’s going to be messy.”

“i’ve been messy since the day i met you.”

you blink, throat thick. “people will talk.”

“they already do.”

“she’ll hate me.”

he nods. “but i won’t.”

your heart stutters. your hands fall to his chest, and he steps out of the closet fully now, standing in front of you like he never left.

his hands find your waist.

they always do.

his touch is careful — reverent, even now — but firm enough to anchor you. he leans in, presses his lips to your neck. then just beneath your jaw. the kind of kisses that don’t ask permission because the answer’s already written all over you.

you try to hold onto your last thread of resistance, but it’s fraying fast.

“you’re gonna have to prove it,” you murmur, the words catching on your breath. “that you love me. that this isn’t just about… this.”

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes — a smirk ghosting his mouth, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“damn,” he whispers, “gonna make me work for it?”

“not everything can be solved with sex,” you tease, though it sounds more like a warning.

he exhales through a laugh, head dropping to your shoulder for a second like he’s catching himself. “you think i don’t know that?”

his voice is muffled. honest.

“i know,” he adds. “i just don’t know any other way to make you feel it yet. but i’ll learn.”

his hands slip up your spine. his breath fans against your collarbone.

“just… don’t shut the door on me before i get the chance.”

then you hesitate — just for a breath, just long enough to wonder if it’s a mistake again — and then let go.

your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt, and you pull him down with a gentle tug that leaves no room for confusion. his lips find yours before he even has time to breathe, and the kiss that follows is nothing like the one you gave him in the closet.

this one is heat. hunger. a crash of want that’s been simmering under guilt and grief and denial for far too long.

his hands grip your waist like he’s terrified you might change your mind. your body presses flush against his, and for the first time in a week, you feel like you’re not drowning. you’re burning — and god, it’s a relief.

his mouth moves against yours like a confession — deep, slow, and devastating. teeth scrape. tongues tease. your fingers thread through his hair and tug, and he groans into your mouth like you just pulled his soul from between his ribs.

he kisses you like he’s starving. like he doesn’t need food or sleep or forgiveness — just you, and the heat between your thighs, and the way your breath catches when his hands trail beneath your shirt.

and for a moment, you let him.

you let his hands roam. you let his kisses get messier, more urgent. your back presses to the edge of your bed, and you feel his leg slide between yours, like instinct — like destiny. the tension is so thick it could shatter if you spoke too loud.

he tries to lift your shirt.

and that’s when you stop him.

not harshly. not even coldly.

you simply press two fingers to his chest and pull your mouth away, your lips swollen and your breath shaky. your forehead rests against his for a long, quiet moment — the two of you panting like you just ran through hell and back.

his eyes open slowly, and he gives you a half-smile that’s far too cocky for how wrecked he looks. “what?” he whispers, voice thick with frustration and laughter. “now you’re the tease?”

you swallow your grin, but the smirk on your face betrays you. “i said you had to prove your love.”

“i thought i was.”

you tap his chest once. “not like this.”

he groans dramatically, dropping his head to your shoulder like the weight of your resistance might kill him. he didn’t think you meant now. “you’re evil.”

“i’m patient.”

“you’re testing me.”

you raise your eyebrows, proud. “and you’re failing.”

he laughs into your neck, the sound warm and unfiltered, and for the first time in what feels like forever — it’s light between you. not heavy. not soaked in shame or guilt or secrets.

just laughter.

just lips swollen from kissing, hands still tangled in each other’s shirts, chests pressed close enough to hear every skipped beat.

you feel his smile against your skin.

“fine,” he murmurs. “i’ll prove it. just… fair warning…”

he pulls back to look at you, something soft and dark glinting in his eyes.

“once i do, you’re never getting rid of me.”

copyright © t4kalcvr 2025 all rights reserved

💬, EEEEE guys jinu is so fine ugh, ALSO SOMEONE TOLD ME MY QUESTIONS WERENT ON BUT THEY ARE NOWWW LOL SORRY GUYS !!! so you guys can make anon requests neowww without having to message me 😛 ANYWAYS ENJOY THIS READ LOL IM SO GLAD YOU GUYS LIKE THIS SERIES !!! also i do leave these on cliffhangers purposely, so if you guys wanna imagine the rest OR if you guys want another part, i luvvvv giving you guys what you want lol SO NOW I’LL WORK ON MIRA CANT KNOW PART FOURRRR !!!!! ALSO ALL OF YALLS COMMENTS ARE REALLY MOTIVATING ME, I LUV SEEING YALLS OPINIONS AND THOUGHTS FOR MY WRITINGS AND YALL ARE JUST SO SWEET WITH IT TOO, IM TRYING MY BEST TO REPLY TO ALL OF YALL 🥹🫶🏼

ko-fi 🎧

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[theshadowsden]

Im honored to be considered your top requester <3

I'll keep feeding you my ideas, as you feed us with your writing <3

HUNTER’S RUIN — 𝖩𝖨𝖭𝖴 𝖲𝖠𝖩𝖠

WORD COUNT. 3,100 GENRE. dark romance, enemies to lovers, erotica, && drama. CONTENT CONTAINS. combat, body worship(?), explicit content, slight power play, && blood. REQUESTED BY. @theshadowsden

٩(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)و*̣̩⋆̩*

he saw you first through the fog of the alley. not clearly. just the shape of you, wrapped in smoke and red light, like the streetlamps themselves bowed toward your body. jinu didn’t blink. he couldn’t. his hand hovered near the hilt of his blade, breath steady, but his heart already faltering, betraying him. he’d felt demon presence before—felt the sickness coil in the air like rot—but with you? it was warmth. perfume. the static hum of something ancient, beautiful, and unspeakably wrong.

you didn’t run. you stepped closer.

your heels clicked against wet pavement, slow and deliberate, as if every step you took was choreographed to the rhythm of his restraint unraveling. he should’ve drawn the blade then. he should’ve pinned you to the wall, sliced into your flesh, and ended it. ended you. but his fingers wouldn’t move. and when you tilted your head, the soft curve of your mouth twitching into a smile, he knew why.

“you’re late,” you whispered, voice low and velvet-lined, curling around the shadows like smoke. “i waited. got dressed and everything.” you moved one step closer. his eyes dropped—just for a second—to the way your coat fell open, revealing skin, silk, temptation. you smelled like danger and sin. like something made to be touched but never survived.

jinu inhaled sharply. his grip tightened.

“are you not going to kill me, hunter?” your voice was soft, mocking. a sweet thing dipped in poison. “or do you want to see what makes me a demon first?”

he stepped forward, blade half-drawn, eyes hard. “you think this is a game?”

you laughed. god, that laugh. it echoed off the brick walls and slid down his spine like warm breath. “no,” you said, brushing past him, dragging your fingers along his shoulder, “i think it’s a dance.”

he turned quickly, too quickly, because you were gone. not completely—he could feel you still. in the air. on his skin. in the aching tension between his thighs. your voice lingered, soft, almost gentle, disembodied and cruel.

“catch me next time, hunter.”

and then nothing.

he stood alone under the streetlamp, blade still in hand, heart pounding out of rhythm. breath heavy, throat dry, body burning from something he couldn’t name.

he wasn’t afraid of demons.

but you weren’t fear.

you were fascination.

and that terrified him.

٩(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)و*̣̩⋆̩*

it happened again—this time, on the rooftop of a half-crumbling building, high above the city where neon lit the smoke like fire. the wind tugged at his coat. his blade was already drawn, the edge of it glinting blue beneath the moon. this time, he wasn’t hesitating. this time, he wasn’t going to let your voice slip into his head like a dream.

but when you appeared—smiling, bare-armed, lips parted like you’d just finished laughing—it all came back. the heat. the ache. the sick sense that he was chasing something he didn’t want to destroy, but devour.

you struck first. a blur of movement, the glint of claws, the slam of your palm against his chest that sent him skidding back into a rusted pipe with a grunt. he caught himself quickly, brought the blade up, and slashed toward your side. you bent backward, unnaturally smooth, your chest arching just beneath the arc of steel. too close. your breath kissed his throat.

“getting better,” you murmured, voice thick with delight.

he didn’t respond. he just lunged.

your bodies crashed, slammed into the ground in a mess of limbs and scraping steel. he managed to slice the edge of your thigh, and your hiss of pain twisted something in him—guilt, maybe, or satisfaction, or something darker. but then you retaliated, flipping him onto his back with a grip on his collar and your knee between his legs, pressing down hard enough to bruise. his blade was caught between your wrists, shaking slightly as you held it just above your throat, both of you straining for dominance.

he looked up at you.

your hair fell into your face, eyes glowing faintly, lips parted, chest heaving. blood dripped slowly down your leg, staining the rooftop black. and still, you smiled. your mouth so close to his he could feel the warmth of your exhale. like a kiss waiting to happen. or a warning.

“what are you going to do, jinu?” you asked, your voice lower now, less playful, more… curious. “cut me open? watch me bleed?” your hips shifted slightly, not enough to be obscene—but enough to make him falter. you felt it. the hesitation. the hunger. and your grin widened. “or are you going to admit it?”

“admit what?” he breathed, voice strained.

“that you want me.” your lips barely grazed his. “that you dream of me.”

he growled, flipping you suddenly, pinning you down hard, blade now pressed into your collarbone, his knee between your thighs. you gasped softly—not from fear. not even from pain. from interest. intrigue.

“you’re just a job,” he snapped, but his voice cracked halfway through, betraying him.

your eyes glinted. “then why are your hands shaking?”

and they were. just a little. enough to make the blade tremble where it rested against your skin.

the wind howled between the broken bricks. the city pulsed beneath them like a heart trying to break free. his chest rose and fell violently above yours, his face so close you could count every breath, every flicker of doubt behind his eyes.

then slowly, slowly, your hand reached up. you touched the edge of the blade. not to push it away—but to drag it gently down your chest, letting it slice your skin just enough to show him red.

“i bleed like you do,” you whispered, voice like silk soaked in danger. “but i bet i taste better.”

he jerked back before he could find out. before he did something irreversible.

you didn’t chase him. not this time.

you just watched him vanish into the night, the taste of him still hot in your mouth.

and jinu?

he didn’t sleep for days.

because every time he closed his eyes, it was your body beneath his.

your blood.

your voice.

your smile.

and the shameful, maddening truth:

he wanted to see you again.

٩(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)و*̣̩⋆̩*

he didn’t know why he returned to that same place. three nights later. same hour. same rooftop, where blood had stained the concrete and the wind still carried your laughter like perfume. he told himself it was instinct. the hunter’s path. tracking patterns. but deep down—he knew.

it was addiction.

he leaned against the ledge, half-expecting to be alone this time. to be free of the spell you cast. he had convinced himself that maybe you’d gotten bored. maybe you’d moved on to another city, another poor fool to tease. and yet when he felt the air shift behind him—heavy, warm, electric—he didn’t flinch. he just closed his eyes.

“you missed me,” you said softly. right behind him. so close your breath stirred the collar of his jacket.

he turned.

you were there, of course. leaning against the wall like you hadn’t bled on this very rooftop. like you hadn’t pinned him to the ground and made him forget why he ever wanted you dead. moonlight painted your face, soft and wicked, your lips slightly parted like you were about to say something that might ruin him.

“no,” he lied.

you smiled like you could taste the falsehood on your tongue. “then why do you look at me like that?”

“like what?”

you took a slow step toward him. then another. until your boots nearly brushed his. your hand lifted—to his surprise—and hovered near his jaw, not touching, but threatening to. “like you want to carve me open… and kiss me while i bleed.”

he sucked in a breath, sharp and involuntary.

you tilted your head. “tell me, hunter. what do you dream about? do you see me crawling into your bed? or do you imagine what i’d sound like—if you finally let me get my hands on you?”

his hand shot out suddenly, grabbing your wrist. hard. not enough to hurt, but enough to stop you. enough to pretend he was in control. your eyes sparkled, unbothered. amused.

“don’t push me,” he warned, voice low and strained.

“push you?” you laughed, soft and slow. “i think i already have.”

his grip didn’t loosen. your bodies were pressed too close now. the city stretched around you like a blur of lights, but all he could see was your face. and all you could feel was his pulse, hammering through the skin of his palm. he hated how warm you were. how human you felt. it made it harder to remember the truth.

you were not a woman.

you were a demon.

you were a target.

and still—

still, his eyes dropped to your lips.

your smile faded, just barely. your free hand reached up, brushed his chest. fingers slow, curious, trailing over the curve of his sternum, over the heartbeat he tried so hard to suppress.

“you don’t have to fight it,” you murmured, voice thick with something between seduction and sympathy. “i can feel it. you want me.”

“i’m not like the others you’ve twisted,” he said, his voice trembling with conviction he no longer believed.

“no,” you whispered, finally placing your hand against his chest. “you’re worse. you want me, and you hate yourself for it.”

the silence swelled.

then—without thinking—he shoved you backward, pinning you to the wall. his forearm pressed to your collarbone, his face inches from yours. your breath caught. your body didn’t fight. instead, you tilted your chin, exposing your throat like an offering.

“go ahead,” you whispered. “kill me.”

he stared. at your lips. your throat. the way your chest rose against his arm. the hunger in your eyes that mirrored his own.

he didn’t move.

he couldn’t.

and you smiled again. the cruelest, most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

“that’s what i thought.”

you left without another word, disappearing into the night like smoke.

but his hands were still shaking.

and later—when he was alone—he’d lift his fingers to his lips and imagine what your skin would taste like if he ever dared to touch it.

٩(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)و*̣̩⋆̩*

the warehouse was empty, except for the echo of wind slithering through broken windows and the sound of his boots—heavy, deliberate—against concrete. jinu had tracked your energy here like a heat signature, like a pull carved into his bones. it was different tonight. thicker. darker. his body felt heavier under it. the blade in his hand buzzed with anticipation, or maybe dread. maybe both.

then the air shifted.

and you stepped out of the shadows.

not disguised. not human. not this time.

your skin was a dulled violet, as if the night itself had painted you. black patterns curled around your limbs like runes, like thorns wrapping silk. your eyes glowed molten gold, hot and unreadable, and your claws glinted with the reflection of moonlight streaming through shattered glass. but it was the dress—gods, that dress—that made him forget how to breathe. black, shredded at the hips, open at the stomach, tight across your breasts, straps barely hanging onto your shoulders. it looked like it had been sewn from sin itself.

you looked like something he should run from.

you looked like something he had already dreamed of a hundred times over.

“no more games,” you said. your voice was deeper in this form, layered, like a second voice coiled beneath it. “you came to kill me, didn’t you?”

jinu raised his blade.

and charged.

you met him halfway.

claws clashing against metal, sparks flying with every blow, his strikes wild and calculated, yours fluid and feral. you moved like smoke, like lust and chaos and instinct all at once, spinning beneath his arm, dragging your claws across his chest, shredding fabric and slicing skin. he grunted, caught you by the waist, slammed you into a pillar—only for you to flip him, pinning him against the wall with your knee between his legs, his blade knocked away and clattering uselessly to the floor.

your breath was ragged. your chest heaved. golden eyes bore into his with a hunger so intense it hurt. and jinu—gods, jinu didn’t move. didn’t breathe. your claws were curled around his neck. but you weren’t squeezing. not yet.

you leaned in, lips close, voice molten.

“what now, hunter?”

he stared at your mouth.

your fangs.

your tongue, flicking against the edge of a word that never came.

you tilted your head, waiting.

but jinu didn’t answer.

he reacted.

his hands shot up—not to your wrists, not to push you off—but to your waist. he gripped you like he was drowning, like he needed to anchor himself or fall apart entirely. and then he kissed you.

deep. raw. desperate.

your lips collided like a war had ended and begun in the same breath. his mouth was hot and frantic against yours, fingers digging into your hips, dragging you closer until there was no space, no sanity left. your claws retracted just enough to thread through his hair, your body pressing against him, chest to chest, heartbeat to something older and darker than a heartbeat.

he kissed you like he’d never get the chance again.

you kissed him like you’d always known he would.

his tongue slid against yours, hungry, searching, tasting something he had no right to crave. and still—he moaned into your mouth. soft, almost broken. his hips lifted slightly, pressing into you in a way that made you smirk against his lips.

your hand slid beneath his jacket, claws teasing the skin you’d torn open minutes ago. his body shuddered. he wanted you. more than breath. more than vengeance. more than salvation.

he pulled away only for a second, his forehead resting against yours, his voice wrecked and trembling.

“i can’t kill you.”

your hands curled tighter into his jacket.

“i know,” you kissed him again, slower this time. not frantic like before. not like a clash. but like a confession. his lips moved over yours with reverence, as if he finally understood what he was kissing—something he shouldn’t touch, something sacred in its sin. your body, still humming from the fight, softened in his hands. the heat that had once been chaos now melted into something molten, heavy, intimate.

his fingers slid up your sides, tracing the dark patterns that pulsed like veins along your demon skin. he followed them like a map, like they were trying to lead him somewhere. and maybe they were. your breath hitched as he reached your ribs, his thumbs brushing beneath the curve of your breasts—never rushing, just feeling. learning.

you pulled his jacket off slowly, not tearing this time. not in a hurry. you wanted to see him. all of him. every part of the hunter who kissed you like he’d been starved. his shirt was stained with blood—some his, some yours—but when you lifted it over his head and tossed it aside, you could still smell the heat of his skin. the bruises. the battle. the desire he tried so hard to bury.

his mouth found your throat.

he kissed just below your jaw, where your pulse throbbed like a second heart.

you let your head fall back. let him taste you.

“you’re still shaking,” you whispered.

his hands gripped your waist, grounding himself.

“you’re not,” he breathed.

you pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes glowing like firelight, hands trailing down his chest, across every ridge of muscle. you took your time. your claws dulled into soft fingertips as you dragged them down to the edge of your dress. he watched—entranced—as you slowly, sinfully peeled the fabric aside, letting it fall from your shoulders, letting it slide down your hips like a whispered secret.

you stood before him, bare, painted in shadow and moonlight, those black markings curling over your thighs, across your stomach, around your breasts like vines desperate to hold you together.

he reached out—hesitant at first—then placed a trembling hand on your waist.

“you’re…” his voice cracked.

but he didn’t finish.

he just looked at you like you were some beautiful, cursed relic.

and then you kissed him again.

you guided him down to the floor, pressing him back against the cold concrete. straddling him slowly, deliberately, so he could feel every curve, every shiver. your hips sank into his lap, and he groaned—low and broken—as his hands flew to your thighs. he gripped you like he was afraid you’d vanish again. like this was a dream.

you rocked against him once—just once—and his breath stuttered hard.

your lips brushed his ear.

“feel what you do to me,” you whispered.

“feel what i’ve done to you.”

you rolled your hips again, slower. teasing. and he bucked beneath you, trying not to fall apart too fast. he wanted to last. to remember. his mouth found your chest—kissing across the markings there, tracing your nipple with his tongue, worshipping you with the quiet desperation of a man who never believed he’d get this close to something so unholy. so divine.

you guided him inside you slowly. painfully slow.

he gasped.

you moaned.

you sat flush against his hips, head tilted back, thighs tight around him. you held him there, still for a moment, letting him feel every inch of how warm and wet you were. how tightly you wrapped around him.

“say it,” you whispered, voice trembling like fire.

“say you want this.”

he looked up at you—eyes wide, ruined, full of reverence.

“i want this.”

he swallowed.

“i want you.”

you rode him slowly, rhythm like a ritual, hips circling in slow, grinding pulses. he met every movement with quiet moans, fingers digging into your thighs, his eyes never leaving you. not even once. like he thought if he looked away, it would all vanish.

your claws raked down his chest, not deep enough to cut—just deep enough to remind him who you were. what you were. but he didn’t care. he wanted all of you. especially the dangerous parts.

and when he finally came—his breath catching in your mouth, his body tensing, his voice breaking on your name—it wasn’t a scream. it wasn’t violent.

it was worship.

you collapsed on top of him, your skin slick against his, your breath tangled, your heart still racing. and for the first time since the hunt began, neither of you moved. you just laid there. glowing. aching. wrapped in something neither of you could name.

his fingers curled around yours.

and in the silence that followed, he didn’t ask you to stay.

but he didn’t ask you to leave either.

copyright © t4kalcvr 2025 all rights reserved

💬, HERES A REQUESTED FIC FROM MY TOP REQUESTER !! i do requests when i work lol SO NEOW I’LL GET STARTED ON TWIN SIN PART 4 LOL OR MIRA CAN’T KNOW PART 4, WE’LL SEEE !!!!

ko-fi 🎧

look here for your next read 📚 !!!!

🔖: @sukunasrealgf @sinamew @valentique @mysteris-things @theshadowsden @randomagnes0210 @dainsleif-when-playable @viserra-ish

[theshadowsden]

You guys are gonna get whiplash at my music taste ngl

Lots of different music types here, but there's so much I want to write for the character of the reader so it works out <3

[theshadowsden]

Me when I use music for the reader :)

Me when I use Leauge of Legends K/DA music HEH >:)

LIKE DUDE THE SONGS FIT SO GOOD

Villian will 100% be in this fic btw guys, it fits too well.

[theshadowsden]

Part 4 (end of prolouge)

Cw: death of a minor character; random civilian

The morning was a blur as soon as the assistant, your assistant. You remembered and reminded yourself asked you that question, of course you had said yes, why wouldn't you? It was a faraway dream and a catch, but you'd do anything to show your parents up, and to show them wrong.

'Anything you say? You know all you need to do is say yes to me, you already know who and what I am.' You knew this voice, Gwi-Ma. There were countless of people around you, pages of lyrics on notebooks written for your debut song. It was surreal that this was even happening in the first place. Your newly assigned assistant had mentioned that they saw how popular you were on a single video with you singing. Someone had recorded you at that lunch at work. Typical human beings, recording the reclusive worker for funny internet points. With a strained smile and gritted teeth turning sharper at a moments notice you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Locking the door, to the single stall bathroom, you practically threw off your jacket. It was too hot--your skin felt like it was on fire the moment you heard Gwi-Ma's voice. Eyes flickered between normal hues, and golden yellow ones. Your breaths came out shaky, and uneven as you tried to steady yourself. Patterns decorated your skin, trailing all around your body, lilac markings on skin that were practically summoned by Gwi-Ma's voice.

Steadying yourself against the skink with a shaky hand, you splashed water on your face with the other, trying to get some semblance of being normal. Unfortunately for you, normal was not on your side. Fate wasn't on your side--at least for now you thought.

Gwi-Ma's voice spoke again, and you had to stop yourself from shaking, and tearing the sink off the wall. As hands morphed into claws. You had the strength to rip it off the wall without a single thought--but you didn't. You endured, you'll fight this thing to your last breath if you have to.

'You think yourself normal? How can you be normal? You are mine weather you like it or not. Your soul is marked and prime for the taking, it'll only be a matter of time before you give into what you truly are..' His voice whispered in your ears, dripping in venom. And as quickly as the voice came, it went away. Demonic features slowly becoming dormant once again, hidden beneath your skin, teeth going back to normal once more.

Looking into the mirror you looked at yourself, a flicker of the demonic side flashed across your vision before it was gone in a blink. You rubbed at your eyes, trying to wash away the tiredness that came with every interaction. If you were going to make it as an idol now, you had to practice fake smiles, and to fake a loads of happiness for the sake of what you wanted since you were younger.

You brushed off your jacket, and put it on once more. Heart slowly coming to a normal heartbeat and rhythm. You would overcome whatever this is, whatever curse you've been born with or whatever cursed your soul. With a shaky sigh, you unlocked the door and proceeded to go on as if everything was normal.

--

You were drained, back hunched in bad posture trying to get some sort of relief at the constant choreography, when was the last time you even did a little bit of exercise? You had to be at your best, even though every voice in your head spoke to you saying you were at your worse. You ignored them and preserved, and went through hell. Even if your muscles ached and screamed. You have to be perfect. Every movement had to be on beat, and on rhythm. You couldn't afford to fail.

It was at this point that you were begging for a break. As if by some miracle, the dance director said you all were done for the day, and you had collapsed on the floor in the shape of a starfish with a heaving chest. Water was passed around and you must've drank at least three bottles of water yourself. You finally picked yourself up to get a change of clothes as the one you were currently in were sticking to every part of you. It made you feel gross, and if you could you'd have taken a shower right then and there. Next part of the day was fine tuning the lyrics, this part you could've excelled forever at. Musical writing was a challenge for sure, but with a little here and there everything was perfect to you.

Music was heard in the room, the sounds of various musical instruments was heard as well as you buried yourself into it. Headphones on, you were lost in the melody that was playing. A part of you was soothed by the melody. Your breath hitched slightly. That hungry part of you was aching to feed once more, to devour or to feed off of adoration. You felt weak, and the knuckles on your hands turned white at the amount of force. Gritted teeth, you tried to steady your breathing, in and out. Even counting one through ten to try and help it work. It didn't work at all. You were out of focus for the rest of the day.

Thankfully working on the lyrics was the last part of the day and the recording with the dance moves was for tomorrow. Feeling dazed, in a fog, you walked, more so stumbling as if you were drunk towards your home. The whispers in your mind, stronger then ever before guiding you along your path.

A small part of your rational was still clinging on, as you walked, not fully dazed. With your demonic side you smelled something sweet that resonated deep with you, and you looked up and noticed blue lights in people's chests. You growled lowly in your throat, trying to suppress yourself. But you can't, it wants out, it wants to feed--to consume. All rational was lost at smelling the sweet scent of souls in the cool night air as you slinked down a dark alleyway and waited. Golden eyes pierced the darkness of the night as you watched a person, who was obviously drunk. You could smell it off of the person, the soul on the person smelled divine. And here they were handing themselves on a silver platter, unknowingly walking into death.

Your body moved on its own. Instinct as if you've done this for years, as you watched the soul of the person fly away into your mouth as the body slumped down to the ground with a thump. The voices went quiet, and unknowingly to you, a deep evil laugh of Gwi-Ma was heard as you fed on the unfortunate soul.

--

The next morning you woke up in your bed, feeling restored. And your mind reeled at what you did last night, that poor person died bevause of you. Because of what you are, and what you are becoming. The remnants of last night played on repeat in your mind, and you felt like you were about to have a panic attack with your breathing shuttering and gasping for breath. What have you done?

--

You pushed past it, as the guilt was eating physically and figuratively. The patterns underneath your skin were burning in response to your guilty conscience. If you thought about it, you would feel your skin burning with the purple marks that decorated your skin so you pushed it away, but it wasn't gone entirely, it lingered, festering in the deepest part of you mind.

Other then the guilt from the previous night, the day went on smoothly. You nailed the dancing, and the vocals were exquisite. The music video was posted and immediately caught internet fame, with news outlets talking about how you were a new 'Rising Star' in the industry.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad afterall, you thought. Though the burning feeling underneath your skin told you otherwise, you twitched in response looking through the studios window.

A chill went through the air, and went down your spine making you shutter in response as the sunset fell, making the city be masked in the night air.

Yeah, maybe you shouldn't have thought that.

and that's the last part of the prolouge! Hopefully you guys enjoyed this part! Next part we finally start the main movie plot <3

See you guys next time <3

Taglist @your-favorite-god