⋆｡‧˚ʚ (demon AU) ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Behind the curtain, the soft rustle of fabric and faint click of zippers break the silence. Each time the curtain shifts, the subtle outline of her demon marks — the subtle, iridescent, elegant patterns tracing along her collarbone and down her arms — become visible for a brief moment before she steps fully into the light.

“This one’s tighter than the last,” Rumi’s voice floats out, calm yet teasing, carrying the faintest edge of something dangerous beneath her usual composed tone.

The curtain parts slowly.

She emerges, draped in a charcoal-gray ensemble — a sleek jacket tailored sharply at the shoulders, the fabric hugging her slender waist and flowing over the subtle dips and curves of her figure. Her demon marks trace elegantly from her neck down beneath the collar, visible where the fabric parts just enough, iridescent and intricate against her pale skin.

You take her in — the way the light catches the subtle sheen of her hair pinned loosely, the powerful yet graceful way she holds herself.

Her eyes lock with yours, calm and steady.

“Too much?” she asks, voice low, almost a challenge.

She turns smoothly, giving you a glimpse of the sinuous curves of her back and the dark tattoos that swirl and ripple beneath the surface — permanent, a quiet testament to the demon blood coursing through her veins.

She meets your gaze again in the mirror, that same cool intensity.

“Or not enough?”

The faint pulse of music seems to dim for a moment. The room shrinks. The moment stretches.

You don’t speak.

She smiles then, a slow, knowing curl of her lips that promises power and secrets.

“You’re quiet,” she murmurs, voice softer now, less playful, more intimate. “That’s rare.”

Her gaze sharpens just slightly.

“I get the feeling you’re not here just to approve my outfits.”

There’s no accusation — only the barest hint of amusement, like she’s seen right through your thoughts and welcomed the honesty.

Her arms fold lightly across her chest, fingers tracing absent patterns over the smooth fabric. One hip tilts, and the fabric pulls taut, outlining the subtle demon marks that snake down her side.

You open your mouth to respond, but she holds your gaze, unwavering.

“There are two more looks I’ve saved for last.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Try to behave.”

The curtain slips shut.

But not before you catch the ghost of a smile she couldn’t quite hide.