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.
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
✦ “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.
You stiffened, demon senses sharpening. It wasn’t spilled milk or cereal. It was baby milk.
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.
“…Rumi.” Your voice dropped an octave. “What. Is. That.”
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.
“Ours?” you echoed, voice tight. “You adopted a baby—a human baby—without even telling me?”
Rumi’s expression didn’t change. “Yes.”
“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.”
“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.”
“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.”
“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.
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—
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.”
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.”
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.
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.
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.