Archive of Our Own ^beta

Rumi had known that Zoey and Mira were a thing since, well. Forever, really. It had always been the two of them. Swapping pep talks and memes alike in their dressing room before a show, wrapping themselves all around each other on the couch for what Zoey referred to as mandatory cuddling sessions, giggling at some private, shared joke as Mira pulled Zoey into her room for one of their sleepovers. Sharing their clothes, sharing their showers, sharing their bed. While Rumi was in the next room, lightyears away.

It was the two of them, and Rumi a few steps behind. Out-of-sync, asymmetric, unneeded. They did love her, she was confident enough of that. They were her best friends in the whole world, obviously. But it wasn’t the same. Rumi wasn’t the same.

(“N-no, I don’t think that’s—” Rumi stuttered, palms sweating. She wanted to pull her hands out of Zoey’s and Mira’s grip, wanted to run. With every small movement she made, she could feel the way her hoodie brushed against her scarred shoulders. “I mean, I’m flattered. Really. And—it’s not that I don’t care—I just… I’m just not sure that’s a good idea…”

“It’s fine, we get it.” Mira’s voice sounded flat, unaffected. Rumi knew her better than that, though; she could see the way her shoulders tensed up. Mira’s hand fell away from her own, tucking protectively around her side. “No hard feelings, Rumi.”

“I mean, we do get it and understand and always love you no matter what happens, but are you sure?” Zoey clung to Rumi’s hand, gripping it like a lifeline. “We just love you so much already, and we work so well when it’s all three of us, and you’re like our favorite person in the world.”

Rumi looked down at the floor. “I’m—”

The memory of last night was fresh in her mind, when they’d taken some time to rest and rewatch Zoey’s favorite BL drama for at least the sixth time. Zoey and Mira curled up together so close that they looked practically melted into each other, and Rumi sat in the corner. The two of them, and her. Mira had gotten bored almost immediately, and she’d decided to distract herself. She was running a finger along Zoey’s collarbone. The hem of Zoey’s shirt had been pushed to the side without even a word, as naturally as breathing. Exposing her bare shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Rumi heard herself say. Something hot and painful churned in her gut. Just another lie to add to the pile, another brick for the wall she’d built between them.

Zoey looked unconvinced—worse than that, she looked hurt. Mira wrapped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her into a sorry-looking half-hug. “Okay,” Mira said, flat once again. “We won’t pressure you. Thanks for being, y’know. Chill about it.”)

Zoey and Mira together, and Rumi sometimes also there as well. That’s how it had always been, and Rumi wasn’t even allowed to be upset about it, in her opinion. It was the choice she’d made, after all.

-

Rumi wasn’t sure what, exactly, would happen next, after everything. Now that the Honmoon was shimmering with an entirely new type of power, and Gwi-ma had been cast away once again. The world was free to see another day, and HUNTR/X was poised to come back stronger than ever. But Rumi didn’t know what would happen to them. To the two of them, Mira and Zoey, and to her. She’d spent so long hiding, she’d lost sight of what living honestly would even look like.

Zoey and Mira have been silent and clingy ever since they stepped off that stage at the Namsan Tower arena—clutching each of Rumi’s arms too-tight between their own as they were driven back to their highrise. They’d ridden the elevator up to their penthouse in complete silence, and for the first time in years Rumi couldn’t read their faces at all. Mira looked straight ahead, Zoey looked at the floor. And the two gave nothing else away.

They’re angry, Rumi thought. Angry at me. She’d caused this. Her shame and her lies had pushed the group to its breaking point. If—if only she’d just told them sooner, if she’d been braver, they could have avoided so much pain and suffering. If she’d just let them in instead of building a false, crumbling persona made of deceit. For years.

Zoey’s words from earlier in the evening rang through her ears, haunting her thoughts.

How can we be together if we can’t tell your lies from your truths, Rumi?

How can we be together?

How can we be together?

The elevator dinged to announce its arrival.

Rumi allowed herself to be guided inside, letting Mira and Zoey lead her to wherever they wanted, arms still entangled. She imagined they’d take her to the couch; she feared they’d drop her off at her bedroom. Leave Rumi by herself, so that they could spend time resting and talking and healing together.

(Rumi had become something of an expert in being alone over the years, as accustomed to isolation as she was to long sleeves in August. But she didn’t think she could handle it now. Not tonight, after everything. She didn’t want to have to try. Her muscles ached from exertion, her legs straining with each step as if made of lead, and her heart felt exposed and raw.)

So she worried and worried in silence until she was pulled without explanation into Zoey’s bedroom. Zoey seemed to pick up on her confusion in an instant—or maybe just felt the way Rumi’s whole body tensed up on instinct.

“I—I know you really like having your own space.” She caught Rumi’s gaze, her smile hesitant and her eyes painfully sincere as she parroted one of Rumi’s lies. “But after everything that’s happened, I was hoping… do you think you could stay with us tonight?”

Rumi tried to speak, but something heavy caught in her throat. Zoey thought she wouldn’t want—

Rumi nodded her head with as much vigor as she could muster, blinking away the stinging behind her eyes. “Please,” she finally rasped.

(Beside her, Rumi noticed Mira’s shoulders drop just a fraction, her pinched expression slipping away to reveal something that looked almost like relief.

It wasn’t just Zoey. They’d both thought—)

“Yay!” The cheer in Zoey’s voice was a little forced, a little artificial, but her expression had brightened regardless. “Sleepover with Rumi!” And without wasting another moment, she dragged Rumi to her bed and started to clear away some of its usual chaos. Headphones, pens, and crumpled pieces of paper were relocated to her nightstand; an oversized plushie of a duck wielding a knife was knocked to the floor.

Finally, Zoey slumped down onto the mattress, yanking Rumi down on top of her into a messy tangle of limbs. “Need snuggles now,” she announced. And the moment Rumi had settled in properly, shifted away from the elbow jabbing into her ribs and lied back properly beneath the comforter, Zoey practically fused herself to her side in a koala bear-styled hug. “Mira! Come on! Join the snuggle pile.”

Rumi craned her neck to the side, struggling to look back behind her towards the rest of the room without moving Zoey’s arms from around her. Mira stood back near the doorway, watching the pair of them with her arms folded. Face revealing nothing of her thoughts. “Yeah,” she said, voice quiet and brittle and rough. She was looking at Rumi, staring at something on her face without quite meeting her eye—

The patterns! There were patterns all over her face! She must be—

“I’ll get some makeup wipes,” Mira said. And then she was gone.

“She’ll be okay,” Zoey whispered, coaxing Rumi’s head back down into its rightful place atop the snuggle pile. “Sometimes she needs to go into super 'mom friend' mode for a bit. But she’ll come back.”

Sure enough, Mira returned a moment later with a pack of wipes and an armload of products—cleansers, moisturizers, creams. She waited in silence while Rumi and Zoey did a haphazard job of cleaning their faces, and collected the bottles back into her arms once they were done. She took their jewelry to be properly stored. She brought them water. She brought them pajamas. She didn’t laugh or smile as Zoey struggled to wiggle her way out of her performance top without having to let go of Rumi for more than a second at a time. Then, as she made her way back to the doorway, she paused. Picked up the plush duck that had fallen on the floor and sat it upright atop Zoey’s desk. Expressionless all the while. Finally, she left with nothing more than a quiet “gonna get changed.”

And Rumi was sleepy, was exhausted, was tired down to her bones both physically and mentally. But closing her eyes wasn’t even an option. Not with Mira gone. So Rumi lay still, looking at the ceiling and trying to force herself to get accustomed to the feeling of Zoey’s arm lying against her bare shoulder. She was hyperaware of every place their skin touched, and the unfamiliar feeling made goosebumps rise all along her exposed arms.

(The sleep shirts Mira had brought them had to be salvaged straight from her own closet. Zoey looked so small and huggable practically swimming in an oversized sleep shirt decorated with a smiling big spoon wearing sunglasses. And Rumi had been given a purple i-dle t-shirt with its sleeves artistically torn off. No covering up, even if she wanted to. She tried not to read too much into it.)

Thankfully, it was only a few minutes longer before Mira returned, adorned with an ill-fitting little spoon shirt so small it left a thin sliver of her stomach exposed. Looking so cute it made Rumi’s chest ache.

“Time for snuggle pile?” Zoey asked hopefully, and Mira smiled at her. Really smiled. A soft, precious thing she saved just for Zoey.

“Time for snuggle pile,” Mira confirmed. And while Zoey loudly celebrated the long-awaited completion of the snuggle pile directly into Rumi’s ear, Mira sat gently on the edge of the bed. The small distance between them felt insurmountable, and Mira slowly crept up behind Rumi and reached for her—but hesitated. Her hand hovering just centimeters away from a twisted mess of patterning on Rumi’s arm. “Can I…?” Mira asked.

Asked, like it was even a question, like Rumi would ever say no.

“Yeah,” Rumi said. (Always, she thought.)

“Oh. Well… good.” Mira sounded unlike herself, hesitant and almost shy. Her fingers trembled as she snaked her arm up around Rumi’s shoulder, pulling herself close enough to rest her palm against Rumi’s sternum. Rumi was now trapped between her two closest friends with no hope of escape. Safe. “I thought—after everything…” Mira sighed, breath tickling the thin baby hairs at the back of Rumi’s neck. “I thought I’d ruined everything for myself. Again.”

“What?” Rumi frowned, reaching up to cover Mira’s hand with her own. “No, you could never.”

(Because Mira hadn’t done anything wrong; Rumi believed that with all her heart. She’d seen a demon tampering with the Honmoon, and she’d reacted. Upheld her oath. It’s what Hunters were supposed to do at the sight of a demon. A monster. A liar. Rumi could never hold that reaction against her.

Not—especially not when some small, fragile part of herself buried deep out of sight had agreed, felt the poisonous thrill of vindication at the sight of Mira’s gok-do. Had seen the weapons pointed at her and said yes, this is what you deserve.)

“I was worried, too.” Zoey sniffled and pressed her face against Rumi’s shoulder. “I just—I just keep thinking about all the times I was a bad friend! All the things I should have said instead of being so awful all the time and making you feel like you couldn’t tell us anything and you had to hide all the stuff you’ve been dealing with on your own. I… I’m so sorry, Rumi!” Her voice broke as she spoke, fighting to hold back tears. “I wish I’d been better. I want to be better for you.”

“Wha—no!” No. No no no. This was all backwards, all wrong. It was Rumi who was supposed to feel guilty about hurting them, not the other way around! They were never supposed to feel bad about all of Rumi’s secrets (never even supposed to know those secrets to begin with). She was the one who had pushed them away, fighting against the care and love she didn’t believe she deserved.

“No, Zoey,” Rumi said in a rush. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re a great friend. I-it was my fault. I was so determined to hide my patterns until they went away. And I should have told you both. It’s just—I…” Rumi trailed off, forcing a frustrated sigh through her nose. She focused her attention on her friends at either side of her, holding her in place. No running. “I hate them,” she finally admitted, squeezing her eyes shut. If she saw Zoey or Mira pitying her, she might just die. “The patterns. I’ve always hated them, ever since I was a kid. And they were supposed to go away once we strengthened the Honmoon. Celine promised they’d be gone.”

A sharp intake of breath from one side. A small, hurt “Celine…?” from the other.

“And then,” Rumi continued, “once they were gone, I could be normal. And I wouldn’t have to hide anything from you, ‘cause there would be nothing to hide anymore. I’d be…” Worth it. “Human. Like you. A-and maybe we could be—I mean… Maybe I wouldn’t have to push you away anymore when all I ever wanted was to be closer.” She paused, allowing an uncomfortable silence to settle in around them. “But now… they’re all over me. And I don’t think they’ll ever go away.”

(Ironic, right? There was no hiding what she was anymore, whether she was ready to show the world or not. She’d ran and she’d ran and she’d ran from it, and now the choice had been taken away from her entirely. Now the patterns were more obvious than ever.)

“Well,” Zoey started, hesitant. “I… I wouldn’t want you to change yourself just to be more like us anyway, because I already like you, Rumi. Just the way you are.”

Oh. Even with her eyes closed, Rumi could feel the hot pressure of tears building up.

“Yeah,” Mira agreed. Then, haltingly: “Do you remember the time before Celine introduced us to Bobby? All of the management companies that said we—ugh, that said I couldn’t work without changing my persona? Changing… everything? You never let me do that, Rumi. Even when it was making things harder for both of you.” She paused, then. Took a breath. Her hand fidgeted against Rumi’s chest, as if uncertain. “You said you liked me, and that meant more than the rest of the world hating me.”

“I—I…” It was too much. Rumi couldn’t fight it any longer. A hot tear spilled down her cheek. “I wanted to be good enough for you! You’re both so—and I’m…”

“You’re our favorite person in the world,” Zoey said, hushed. “We love you, Rumi.” She shifted her deathgrip just slightly, then brought her hand up to join Rumi’s and Mira’s. All three clasped together over Rumi’s heart, heedless of the bold patterns poking out from beneath her shirt.

It was a type of love and acceptance Rumi had never believed possible, had never even dared to dream of for herself.

But now, like this, wrapped up in her friends’ arms, Rumi found herself daring. “I… I love you too. Both of you. I’ve always loved you. And—and not just as my friends or team or anything else. I love you.” Her tone was barely more than pleading, in that moment. Pleading that they’d understand her words, pleading that they wouldn’t be angry or offended or put off, pleading that they’d love her back.

“Well, we’ve always loved you, too.” Mira’s voice was gentler than she’d ever heard it before, even as she teasingly mimicked Rumi’s cadence. But the playful energy fell away in an instant. “But you have to let us. No more hiding, okay? I can’t—I can’t do that.”

Rumi blinked her tears away, twisting so that she could look Mira in the eyes. She knew Mira was sensitive about letting people in. (Had known, even when she’d thrown Mira’s insecurities in her face.) “No more hiding,” she promised.

Mira met her eyes, her own red-rimmed and vulnerable. “Okay,” she said, and held Rumi tight. Like it was just that easy to put everything behind them.

(It felt like the hug they’d shared hours earlier, in the arena. Casting aside the hurt and questions and doubts, to just be together. So long as that was true, the rest would fall into place.)

“Sooo…” Rumi turned to find Zoey looking up at her with a nervous smile and so much naked hope in her eyes, plastered all over her face. “You were just saying how much you love us. And then we were saying how much we love you too. Does that mean…? I mean, since we all love each other so much, does that mean you’d wanna, you know. Be with us? Or…?”

Mira shifted her hand beneath Rumi’s, nudging at Zoey’s fingers. “Uh, I thought that was kind of the implication, Zoey.” A pause. “I mean, I hope so. Or else I might sink into the floor and die.”

Rumi couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle. Even like this, vulnerable and ugly and raw, they could still make her laugh.

“Yeah, Zoey,” she said. “I want that. I—I’ve always wanted that. But, I mean—if… only if it’s still okay.” But it seemed like things maybe were okay, with the way the other two curled even tighter around her. Wrapping her up in a full-body hug that left every nerve ending in her body feeling more okay than ever before.

“I mean, it’s taking literally all of my self-restraint not to scream in your face right now, so. Yeah. Pretty alright.”

“Yeah, we’ve only been waiting for, like. Ever.”

Rumi smiled, letting herself sink into the feeling of warmth and safety and comfort like she’d never imagined. God, it was intoxicating. “I’m glad. I’ve been waiting, too. For so long. I’ve got a lot of time to make up for. And—” she drew in a breath, let their joint hands resting on her chest give her courage. “Now that I’m here, you’re not gonna be able to get rid of me.”

Zoey did squeal right in her ear, then. “Rumi!”

“That’s just what we were hoping.” Mira rewarded Rumi’s confession by nuzzling into the side of her neck. Heedless of the garish markings just beneath her nose. Each little movement against Rumi’s bare skin sent a little spark all throughout her body. Made her crave more.

(And she could have more now, Rumi realized. As impossible as it seemed, she could ask for more. It didn’t feel real. She’d spent her whole life wanting more than anyone could give, more than she was allowed to have. More connection, more skinship, more love, everything. She was well-acquainted with the humiliating sting of rejection; she knew it better than she knew herself, some days. It had become so ingrained that… that she’d even begun refusing herself, preemptively. Not letting the two most important people in the world to her in. Not asking them for love, because she was afraid of their rejection—but equally afraid of their acceptance. Afraid to be perceived, afraid to be loved, wholly and unconditionally.

But she could have more now.

And maybe—maybe she wouldn’t even need to ask. Maybe she could just flip over and tuck her head beneath Mira’s chin, safe in her arms. And maybe Zoey would crawl up behind her and wrap Rumi up in one of her addictive hugs; except that this time, Rumi would be able to feel the heat of Zoey’s skin all around her as she held on tight. Maybe—)

“Sooooo…” Zoey drew the word out even longer than before. It was enough to pull Rumi away from her fantasy, back to the deeply sad reality where Zoey had lifted her head from Rumi’s shoulder. She propped herself up on an elbow, looking down at Rumi. “If we’re together now—” her voice was light and teasing, clashing with the shy smile decorating her face, “—which of us are you going to kiss first?”

Rumi’s mind went blank. Then it exploded. Overwhelmed by thoughts, each dancing by so quickly she could barely keep up with them.

She imagined Zoey leaning down then and there, leaning closer. Brushing her lips so softly against Rumi’s, playful and silly, before kissing her properly. She imagined Mira tilting Rumi’s head up with a guiding hand on her chin. Pressing their mouths together with that familiar harshness that somehow managed to be thrilling and comforting all at once. She imagined all three of them, together. Smudging their lipstick after shows and making out on their couch and exchanging lazy kisses over breakfast. A whole new realm of affection, previously unavailable to her. And she was hungry for it.

“I—” Rumi’s voice cracked, her heart racing. “I can kiss you?”

“Oh, you’d better!” Zoey was already drawing closer to her as she spoke, near enough that Rumi could see each of the light freckles dusting her flushed cheeks, near enough that Rumi’s thoughts devolved into a chorus of please, please, please. But, right before what was certainly about to be one of the best moments of Rumi’s life, Zoey stilled. “You have to promise to kiss Mira right after, though. Okay? Or, wait—” she moved in the complete wrong direction, sitting upright with her soft, pretty, kissable lips even further from Rumi’s than before. “Maybe you should kiss Mira first. I mean—she’s a lot better at it than me, so if we really wanted it to be special—”

Mira and Rumi moved in unison, as naturally as dancing. Each grabbed one of Zoey’s arms and yanked her back down onto the snuggle pile of her own invention. And that was how Rumi’s first kiss very nearly turned into a powerful headbutt instead. Zoey squawked, wiggling around and tugging at Mira’s arm with her own, any nerves replaced with contagious laughter.

And Rumi, swept up in the silliness and joy and normalcy of it all, cupped Zoey’s cheek with one hand and pulled her into a kiss. Light and soft and, yes, incredibly special. Zoey’s lips moved gently against Rumi’s, sugary sweet, until her growing smile forced her to break the kiss. She dropped her head back onto Rumi’s shoulder, giggling like a madwoman.

“I kissed Rumi,” she announced, openly smug. Smile brushing so casually against patterned and unpatterned skin alike.

“Ugh, so jealous.” Despite the facade of her words, Rumi was certain she’d never heard Mira sound so… content. Mira sounded—fuck, she sounded cute.

“Hey, Mira,” Rumi began. Zoey practically sprang off of her with a whispered ‘yes yes YES’ that acted as a subtle clue to her current state of enthusiasm. Rumi used her newfound freedom to turn over, nose to nose with Mira.

“Oh, hey.” Mira was smiling again, that very same rare, delicate smile saved just for Zoey. Except… she was looking right at Rumi. And that? That broke the dam.

Kissing Mira was intense. Harsh where Zoey had been soft, yet intoxicating all the same. An arm snaked around Rumi’s neck, pulling her closer with a firm hand cupping the back of her head and only freeing her once their breaths came out in light pants. Mira tossed a glance over Rumi’s shoulder, one eyebrow quirked. “I kissed Rumi, too,” she goaded.

“Uh, yeah you did!” Zoey scrambled half on top of Rumi, making no effort to disguise the hunger in her eyes. “It was probably the best thing I’ve ever seen, and now I need a Mira kiss too.”

Zoey’s lips met Mira’s just centimeters from Rumi’s face, leaving her helpless but to watch. She’d seen the two of them kiss before—quick pecks after practice or before bed. (Plus, the one time she’d returned early from a product endorsement shoot to find them shirtless and tangled up in each other on their couch. A spot that Rumi had wordlessly claimed for herself during their next movie night.) But she’d never seen them like this.

Now, she was free to watch. And she did. She watched as their lips glided against each other with an easy familiarity. Watched as Zoey’s eyes fell closed, her expression turning serene. Watched as Mira pulled back just enough to flick her tongue playfully at Zoey’s upper lip.

“Woah,” was all Rumi could say in response.

Zoey laughed. “I know, right?” She slumped down, dropping her head right onto Rumi’s chest and paying no mind to her surprised wheeze. “That was basically my reaction to kissing Mira, too.” She yawned, then, nestling further into Rumi’s chest. “Anyway, I call dibs on the Rumi pillow tonight.”

“Not gonna fight you for that.” Mira adapted to the abrupt change in conversation with the learned grace of someone who had known Zoey for years. She lined her body alongside Rumi’s, touching from their shoulders all the way down to their legs. A hand curled around Rumi’s waist, slipping possessively beneath the hem of her shirt to stroke her stomach. Touching. “You’re literally the only person in the world who can sleep like that and not be dead the next morning.”

It was true; Zoey was twisted around Rumi like a pretzel, her legs on one side and her head on the other. And, not that anyone had asked, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable for Rumi, either. She couldn’t really move, and one of her arms was pinned to her side. And yet, in just seconds, Zoey was out like a light.

(Rumi wouldn’t move, even if she could. Not for the world. Zoey’s weight on her chest, Mira’s hand on her stomach, so much skin against her own—it had stoked something unfamiliar within her. A craving to pull them closer and closer and impossibly closer, and to never let go. Like a starving animal, suddenly presented with a feast.)

“Can’t wait to sleep for, like, a whole month,” Mira mumbled before falling silent.

-

Just four days later, and the three of them practically collapsed into Mira’s bed after a full, grueling workday on their comeback promotions. After an early-morning photoshoot, they’d had a whole slew of interviews all over the city that Bobby had hastily arranged for them to, in his words, ‘get control of the narrative.’ He’d added a little flourish when he said it, as well.

And Rumi loved her job—loved it more than anything, was grateful every single day—but she could admit that it was a little harder to keep it together on long days when they didn’t get to see their fans directly. Didn’t get to see the reason for all their hard work. And these last few days had been even harder, since she’d discovered her patterns’ nasty habit of changing colors at the worst possible times. She’s trying to accept that they’re a part of her, that they might just be permanent, but… they make it really difficult, sometimes. Most of the time.

(It didn’t help that she’d sometimes catch Zoey or Mira staring at them, when they thought she couldn’t see. Always jerking their heads away or focusing intently on an empty wall when Rumi faced them. And it wouldn’t be fair to blame them for staring, Rumi knew. She was asking a lot of them, having her patterns out in the open.)

“I’m gonna buy a news company,” Rumi announced to the ceiling, practically squished between Zoey and Mira. “We’ll do all our own interviews, and we can do them from bed.”

“Terrible idea,” Mira said, which was really quite rude and unnecessary. “I’d sleep through all of them.”

“Miraaaaa, no more thinking today!” Zoey’s whining was muffled, and Rumi (painfully, effortfully) turned her head to the left to see their maknae all tangled up in her clothes. Pants shucked halfway down her thighs and her arms and head buried beneath the three layered tops she’d tried to pull off all at once.

And it really should have just been a normal thing. Rumi had seen Zoey roaming around their place in just a bra before, and she’d seen her ridiculous American flag-patterned boyshorts as well. Zoey wriggled around helplessly for a moment longer before proving herself triumphant over the evil forces of her clothing and tossing them to the floor.

(She’d seen it before, but from the outside looking in. She’d seen Zoey rushing out of Mira’s room nearly naked and in a panic to grab one of her notebooks, needing to jot down an idea before it was lost forever. Shooting Rumi an awkward, apologetic grin and a wave before stepping into her own bedroom, closing the door behind her.)

But this wasn’t like anything from before. Now, Zoey met Rumi’s eyes easily, seemingly unbothered by the heavy flush Rumi could feel in her cheeks as she reached for her simple sports bra, as her fingertips curled beneath the band. “No more bras,” she announced simply. And pulled the thing up and up and over her head and off to the side with the rest of her clothes on the floor.

They—they shouldn’t leave her clothes there. They’ll wrinkle. Rumi should get those. She should do that, and not look at the shirtless woman in front of her. She should definitely stand up and go do that somewhere else.

She opened her mouth to announce just as much, but the only sound that passed her lips was sad, strangled squeak. Betrayed by her voice, all over again.

Rumi heard Mira’s low chuckle from behind her, felt Mira’s hot breath against the back of her neck. “Wow, Zoey,” Mira said, amused. “Way to just, like, flash Rumi like that.”

“Huh? What do you—oh!” With a yelp, Zoey flew backwards away from the two of them, falling off the side of the bed and landing on her pile of abandoned clothes. Feet up in the air, one still tangled in Mira’s comforter. After a moment’s struggle, Zoey’s legs disappeared from view, replaced with a red face poking up from the side of the bed. “Ha ha! Oops! Ha! Ha ha…” Zoey forced a smile, nervous laughter growing slightly hysterical, and climbed back into the bed with a jacket clutched to her chest. “Oops! I mean, um, whoops! Wow, I—ha, um. Didn’t even think about that. S-sorry, Rumi. I—” That uncomfortable smile faded away, just a bit. “I forgot you, um. It just feels like you’ve always been here, you know?”

Something warm blossomed in Rumi’s chest. Something she’d been feeling more and more frequently, since they sang the song that defeated the demon king. Something that made her feel like… like she wasn’t lying between Mira and Zoey, she wasn’t taking up their space, she was lying with them, all together. A feeling that only grew when Mira mumbled, “Yeah, I know what you mean,” against Rumi’s shoulder.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. Really.” She was allowed to look at Zoey’s bare shoulders, at her toned arms holding her jacket in place, at her flat stomach and her cute butt and her soft, soft thighs and— “I-it’s fine, if you wanted to, um. I mean. You don’t have to…” She gestured vaguely at her own chest and tried—genuinely tried—to stop talking. Alas: “You’re fine. Uh, I mean, it’s fine. You’re—you look nice, like that. But… but you always look nice, right? So. This is fine.”

Nevermind about all that belonging stuff from earlier. Rumi wanted to crawl under the covers and disappear forever.

“Oh my god, you’re so adorable and nervous!” Zoey had come closer now, kneeling above her, embarrassment seemingly forgotten. A skill Rumi very much envied in that moment. Zoey’s eyes gleamed, mischievous, and she poked at Rumi’s heated cheek with her finger. “Mira, look how pink she is! Even her ears are red!” With only one hand left to support it, her jacket had started to slip down her chest.

Mira’s arm snaked around Rumi’s stomach, hand tucking beneath her shirt casual as anything, like she’d done it a hundred times before. “Don’t tease her too much, Zoey. If Rumi wants to cancel our trip to the bathhouse tomorrow, I might literally die.”

Zoey’s starry eyes melted away in an instant, replaced by a dangerously effective pout. “No no no! Not teasing! I’ve never teased anybody in my life.” The hand poking Rumi’s cheek lowered to cup her chin instead. “Rumi, you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Despite the heat in her face, the unfamiliar fluttering in her stomach, Rumi actually meant it. “I’m just nervous, is all. Not, uh. Not used to this.” To being so close, so open, so relaxed. Able to observe and be observed.

Zoey looked away from Rumi, glancing over her shoulder. Looking at Mira, Rumi realized. Seeming to have an entire conversation with nothing but a few glances and quirks of her eyebrows.

Then, Mira sighed. Long and dramatic.

“This is so not gonna help, Zoey,” she said in that very particular tone that meant she’d already acquiesced to one of Zoey’s ideas but didn’t want anybody to know it yet. Then, she pushed away from Rumi and sat up in the bed and—and…

Whipped her shirt off, tossing it carelessly to the side. Started working at the clasps of her bra.

“This is literally always helpful, actually,” Zoey said with a hungry smile, her jacket once again abandoned. She glanced back down at Rumi, contemplating. Then: “Yeah, Rumi agrees with me.”

Mira’s lips curled into a smirk. “I can see that.” Then, her bra joined her shirt, somewhere entirely irrelevant. And Rumi couldn’t even pretend not to be transfixed by their visual—hair loose and mussed from lying on her side, face wiped clean of makeup, collarbones sharp against her perfectly tan skin, breasts small and firm.

Despite her dry mouth, despite her heart trying to race its way right out of her chest, despite her warring thoughts of 'I should look away' and 'this is okay, they want me to be here' and 'I don’t deserve' and 'I want to taste', Rumi managed a weak chuckle. “This—this is a good idea, Zoey,” she said, and watched both of her friends’ faces light up in response.

“Yeah?” Zoey prompted, eager. “Well I think I know how to make this idea even better.” Without any further warning, Rumi felt Zoey’s fingers skimming against her stomach, tucking themselves just under the hem of her shirt. She pinched the fabric between her fingers, pulling at it just slightly.

Rumi froze. Heart racing, breath trapped in her throat.

(Memories of Zoey’s and Mira’s hands yanking at her jacket flashed in her mind. No. Not their hands. They hadn’t; they wouldn’t. But those hateful expressions had burned into her brain regardless.)

But Zoey didn’t yank. Instead, she lowered her head and pressed her forehead against Rumi’s. Their noses brushed—Zoey’s lips so close, but not quite there. “Can I please take this off you, Rumi? You’re so pretty and amazing, and I want to see you.”

I want to see you. Fuck. “Fuck!” Rumi gasped. “I-I mean, yeah, that’s. Yes.”

“Good girl.” Zoey kissed her then, rough and dirty and so, so, so much that Rumi could barely think of anything else except the taste of Zoey’s tongue in her mouth and the sound of good girl replaying on loop in her brain. Couldn’t even remember to be nervous as another hand joined Zoey’s at her stomach, lifting her shirt up above her bare breasts (as, apparently, she was the only one of the three sensible enough to actually change into pajamas when she’d cleaned off her makeup, earlier).

Zoey pulled away from the kiss, looking so damn pleased with herself as she pulled Rumi’s shirt over her head. Mira narrowed her eyes, glaring at Zoey even as she idly ran her hand along Rumi’s chest, tracing the side of her breast with an almost careless ease. “You totally just stole my move.”

Rumi, for her part, floundered.

“Yup!” Zoey’s grin was unrepentant. “And, woah! Now I see why you do that all the time. Hey, maybe I’ll try it on you sometime.” She flicked Rumi’s shirt over to Mira, who fumbled it with an uncharacteristic squeak. Then, her full attention was back on Rumi, every bit as overwhelming as Mira’s hand resting possessively over her chest. “I’ve wanted to touch these patterns for days. And I've been trying not to stare too hard since I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but it’s been basically the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I really want to see them and feel them. Is it okay?”

“You—you want to…?” Rumi swallowed thickly. It seemed absurd to think about her patterns that way, like they were something attractive. And yet. Mira watched her with an intent expression, palm stilled on Rumi’s chest as if just waiting for permission to explore further. And Zoey was looking down at her like she was a freshly-made cinnamon croffle. They were… interested. “Y-yeah. It’s okay.” Rumi was surprised to find that she actually meant it. Her patterns—they were… well. She was trying to stop hating them. She wanted so badly not to mind them, especially now that they were seemingly permanently spread across her whole body.

(She still heard the voice whispering poison to her inside her head, though. Not Gwi-Ma, obviously. He was gone from this realm. No, other voices. Sometimes, the voice belonged to Celine.

But mostly, the voice just belonged to herself.)

So the patterns were… a work in progress. But it was sort of hard to worry too much about them with the way Zoey and Mira high-fived each other right over Rumi’s exposed chest, hissing out a ridiculous, joint “yessss” that was equal parts stupid and flattering. Harder still when Mira cupped Rumi’s breast in her palm almost reverently before running her fingertips along a swirling pattern that started just above Rumi’s heart. And frankly impossible once Zoey dropped her head gracelessly onto Rumi’s stomach, pressing her lips to a pattern ending just above her navel and following the line of it with her tongue.

It was so much. More touching and affection and skin than Rumi had felt in, well, ever. It was dizzying, for so many reasons. Heat pooled in her stomach, and warmth filled her chest. Her patterns flickered beneath their hands, betraying just how much she liked being beneath them.

“You know,” Mira spoke casually as she continued tracing the pattern up to Rumi’s shoulder and then down her arm. Expression relaxed, like Rumi wasn’t going completely out of her mind just beneath her. “You make these look so hot. I never thought patterns could look this good, but they've been driving me crazy for days now.” Her hand deviated away from the marks, lingering around Rumi’s arm only to give her bicep an appreciative squeeze.

“They don’t taste like anything,” Zoey announced to the underside of Rumi’s boob.

Mira snorted. “Did you think they’d be flavored?”

Zoey hummed some noncommittal response, already pressing open-mouthed kisses to another pattern lower on her stomach. Her teeth scratched at Rumi’s skin, sending a jolt up and down her spine. Rumi gasped, hips jerking up on reflex. Zoey hummed, lower this time. God, Rumi could feel her smile.

Mira shifted her grip on Rumi’s arm, pulling Rumi’s hand into her own and repositioning it like a mannequin. She rubbed the tip of Rumi’s index finger with the pad of her thumb, and even that touch left little tingles behind. “So, can you make the claw come back?” she asked, only half-joking. “I never got to get a close look at it.”

Zoey groaned. “Never got to get a close feel of it,” she mumbled into Rumi’s skin.

“Zoey, please. Be less freaky for like two minutes.” The admonishment wasn’t particularly effective, with the way Mira had started to closely inspect each of Rumi’s fingers, one by one.

“Impo—ossible!” Zoey stretched the word into a long, dramatic groan as she lifted her head. “I’m dying of thirst surrounded by hot, shirtless women, and the only thing that can save me is sexy demon claws. Otherwise I’ll never, ever—ohmygosh!”

“Huh?” Distracted, Rumi and Mira both turned toward Zoey in unison.

“Look! Hey, hey, Mira, look here!” She pointed at Rumi’s stomach off to the side, an eager smile already filling her face. The type that just forced everyone else to smile too (under threat of death). Zoey’s fingertip brushed against Rumi’s stomach, touching a spot where multiple lines of thick, gnarled patterning intersected. Rumi drew in a breath, felt her face burning up even as a sharp chill ran down her back. There was something wrong with them? What was wrong— “Doesn’t this one look sort of like a kitty?”

Rumi blinked. Held her breath without even meaning to.

“Huh?” Mira scooched over for a closer look, pulling Rumi’s hand along with her. “I don’t see it.”

“Look,’ Zoey’s finger moved along Rumi’s stomach to demonstrate, “this curvy one here is the head with two pointy ears. Then there’s the back and tail and legs and aah!” She let out an excited squeal. “I love him! I get to pick out his name!”

Mira squinted, tilted her head. “It only has three legs.”

Zoey gasped, reaching across Rumi to poke Mira in the shoulder. “Hey, be nice to Rumi’s kitty. He’s my son now. Besides, he’s got more legs than you do!”

Mira scoffed. “Yeah, but mine are better.”

“Mm.” Zoey thought about it. Like, really, dramatically thought. With a hand on her chin and her lips pursed and everything. “Debateable.”

“What!?” Mira’s head jerked back up abruptly, fire in her eyes. “No way! How many asses has Rumi’s cat kicked with those legs? That’s right: less than mine.”

Finally, finally, Rumi breathed out. Couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle, even as tears pricked at her eyes. Because Zoey was hunched over Rumi’s stomach like a dragon guarding its horde, and Mira looked so serious and offended even as she played along. All over patterns. And Rumi—she’d never thought she could have something like this.

(They made it seem so easy, loving someone like her. God, she should have told them so long ago.)

“Hey, you okay?” Mira asked with a quick squeeze of Rumi’s hand. She and Zoey looked up at her with matching expressions of concern. “Was that too much?”

“You’re good. I—I’m just happy,” she said, voice watery. “I love you both.”

“Awww, we love you too!” Zoey had a unique talent; her words sounded no less sugary sweet, even with her fingertips dipping just below the waistband of Rumi’s spaceship pajama pants, teasing at her thighs. “Did you want to keep going?”

And it was embarrassing, the way Rumi instantly nodded so easily and shifted her hips, lifting her butt off the bed to help Zoey pull off her pants. “Yes, please. Yeah, yes. Please.” Her whole face burned with what must be a terrible flush, but Rumi couldn’t help but crave more. It was addictive, having Mira and Zoey’s hands and eyes all over her body.

“Oh, she asks so nicely.” Mira’s voice was barely more than a growl, a predatory glint in her eyes.

“And she’s so pretty!” Zoey had wasted no time, already nuzzling the side of Rumi’s thigh. Her fingers drifted easily along the patterns staining her legs, up and up and in towards her—

Mira kissed her then. Kissed her hard, elbows planted on either side of Rumi’s head boxing her in as she forced Rumi’s lips apart with her tongue. She licked into Rumi’s mouth, harsh and ruthless and greedy. Rumi’s hands tangled in Mira’s hair, and all she could do was gasp into Mira’s mouth when she felt Zoey carefully spreading her thighs.

Fingers brushed too-light against her sex, teasing her through her underwear and sending a thrill through Rumi’s whole body. “She’s really wet, Mira.” Zoey’s voice was breathy and low, her nose tickling Rumi’s thigh. “I can feel it through her panties. I think she really likes us.” Mira hummed her acknowledgement, sucking Rumi’s tongue into her mouth.

Rumi let her hands fall from Mira’s hair to her shoulders, then her collarbones, then slightly lower. “Can I…?” she mumbled against Mira’s lips, feeling suddenly uncertain.

(Uncertain, because Mira and Zoey must have done this together so many times before. And Rumi? Well. She hasn’t. She really did want this more than anything in the world. She just—she also wanted it to be worthwhile for Zoey and Mira, too. She wanted to impress them. Maybe… maybe earn her place with them.

Or whatever, something else that sounded a little less pathetic.)

Mira nosed her way over to Rumi’s ear, nibbling at the lobe. “Yeah. I want you, Rumi.”

Rumi whimpered, then fucking jolted feeling the wet heat of Zoey’s tongue slowly licking along her labia through her underwear. She brought her shaking hands to Mira’s breasts, cupping them in her palms and teasing her nipples with her thumbs.

Mira gasped a soft little “oh” into the side of Rumi’s neck. “Just like that, softly. Yeah.” Then, she busied herself with leaving kisses along the column of Rumi’s throat. She bit gently, just once—just a light, teasing thing—and Rumi had to fight back a gasp.

Rumi tried to follow Mira’s instructions. She really did. In this moment, nothing seemed more important than being good. But when Zoey licked at Rumi’s center, slow and greedy and perfectly in time with Mira’s teeth dragging along the nape of her neck, she twitched her hand just so and—

Mira hissed—the bad kind—and pulled back. “Lighter,” she instructed, “like before.”

And even though she sounded nothing but patient, Rumi drew her hands back, clasping them in front of her own chest defensively. “Shit, sorry! I’m sorry!” Mira and Zoey both stopped, both looking at her, and Rumi wanted to curl up and die for messing up the mood so badly so fast. Carefully, she brought one hand back to Mira’s chest, her touch light.

Mira softened, her normally stony expression melting into something gentler. “You seem nervous.” She cupped Rumi’s cheek, rubbing her thumb along her cheekbone. “It’s just us.”

Yeah, just the two most important people in her life. “Right. You’re right. Don’t worry about it, I’m just fine.”

“Oh.” Mira was frowning now, pulling away from her and leaning back on her heels. Zoey was frozen between her thighs, silent. And Rumi knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say.

(When had lying become so natural for her?)

“I really am fine,” she tried again. “I mean it. I’m just… really nervous. Like, a lot. I haven’t ever—so, maybe just, um. Just tell me what to do?” The honesty left a lump in her throat, both freeing and terrifying at once.

Mira’s shoulders relaxed, a smile growing on her face. A real smile, warm and safe. Her hand found Rumi’s, squeezing it briefly. And Zoey rewarded her with a gentle kiss on her inner thigh. “I was nervous, too,” she said. “My first time, with Mira. I thought she was so cool back then.”

“Wow, thanks for the past tense,” Mira said, her smile turning indulgent. It was still directed at Rumi, like the two shared a special secret. “What if we try something a little different to break the ice?” All of her previous softness fell away in an instant, replaced with a crooked smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Zoey, want to give her a show?”

Zoey, happily settled in between Rumi’s legs with her nose still touching the damp fabric of Rumi’s underwear, looked deeply skeptical at the suggestion. Instead of replying, she deployed the most devastating puppy dog eyes Rumi had ever seen, with Mira right in the blast zone.

Unaffected, Mira’s eyebrow lifted even higher.

“Oh, fine, but only because it’s for Rumi.” Zoey whipped off her own underwear and tossed them to the side with little fanfare. Then she crawled her way back up the bed, overdramatic and pouting the whole way. Mira climbed over Rumi to meet her…

To meet her, to bring their faces close together—and then to shove hard at Zoey’s shoulders. Throwing her against the mattress hard enough that she bounced back up a little bit. Zoey let out a strangled gasp on impact, then a whine when Mira straddled her waist, planting a hand on her chest for balance.

“One thing you should know,” Mira held Rumi’s gaze as she spoke, like they were just having a casual chat while Zoey squirmed beneath her. “Zoey’s a brat. Don’t encourage her.”

“Hey, I’m being slandered! Rumi, don’t—ah!” Any further protests were cut short with a cruel twist of her nipple, making Zoey cry out and arch her chest up into Mira’s hand.

“Don’t play games,” Mira warned her. The juxtaposition in her voice made Rumi’s head spin: so honeyed and sweet when she spoke to Rumi, then nothing but steel in the blink of an eye. “You’ve been acting out and showing off for Rumi all evening.” Mira teased Zoey’s nipple then, caressing the stiffened bud she’d just pinched as if in apology. “Did you want to impress her, baby? Make her think you’re all cute? Or were you hoping she’d bully you, too?”

“Yes! Mira, please—” Zoey snaked her hand along her own chest towards her other breast.

Mira easily batted the hand away. “Not now, I’m talking to Rumi.” She shot Rumi a conspiratorial smile, so naturally assertive and powerful that it was like Rumi was the one pinned to the bed, unable to move even if she wanted to. “Follow along, okay? This is where we left off.” One hand tangled in Zoey’s hair, pulling her head back and exposing the line of her neck. And then, Mira’s lips and teeth were at Zoey’s throat, kissing and sucking and making these noises that drove Rumi mad.

Follow along, Mira had said. And without even fully realizing it, one of Rumi’s hands had drifted to her chest, lying between her breasts, while the other touched her neck, feeling the spot Mira had nipped earlier. Zoey kept letting out these happy little mewls and sighs, shifting around under Mira’s weight and mussing up Mira’s hair with her wandering hands. And Rumi watched, transfixed. She bit her lip. Let her fingers trace slowly around her own nipple as she watched.

Mira pulled her lips from Zoey’s neck with a wet pop, smile only growing when she saw Rumi fondling herself. “Enjoying yourself?” She sat upright once again and rocked her hips against Zoey’s core just once, teasing, drawing out a moan. Then Mira gripped Zoey’s jaw firmly in her palm, her slender fingers squishing Zoey’s cheeks. And, oh, Zoey practically melted into her touch, allowing Mira to tilt her head up and to the side without protest, eyes half-lidded as she allowed herself to be displayed. “She’s sensitive, right here.” Mira’s hand fell from Zoey’s chin to poke at a fresh bruise. Zoey twitched, but kept her head in place, lip caught between her teeth. “All you have to do is give her a little attention, and suddenly she wants to behave. It’s cute.”

“It’s sooo worth the extra makeup,” Zoey mumbled to Rumi, relaxed and blissed and open in a way she’d never quite seen before.

“O-oh.” With the way Zoey looked, Rumi believed her. And she couldn’t help but imagine Mira leaving a trail of marks along her own neck. What would it feel like to have Mira’s weight bearing down on her while she sucked a bruise into Rumi’s throat? Rumi whimpered, and pinched her nipple between two fingers. She felt it pebbling beneath her fingertips even despite her clumsy, unfocused touch.

Zoey giggled, lazy and slow. “She likes it, Mira.” One of her hands reached towards Mira’s hips, toying with the fabric of her leggings. “D’you want?”

“No.” In an instant, Zoey’s arm was trapped against the mattress, pinned beneath Mira’s hand. “After everything that happened this week? I need some stress relief. Now stay still.” She bent forward, capturing Zoey’s nipple between her lips.

“Oooh, I love it when you need stress relief!” Zoey wriggled beneath Mira’s weight, rolling her hips up against Mira’s with a satisfied hum. Mira released her nipple, reddened and spit-slick. Instead, she licked at it messily. Flashing her tongue and teeth.

Putting on a show, Rumi realized with a jolt. She bit her lip to hold in a whimper and, red-faced, allowed one hand to travel down her stomach and slip beneath her panties—

“Take those off,” Mira commanded, her grin wolfish against Zoey’s chest. “If you’re gonna touch yourself right next to us like that, we’re gonna watch. Every moment.”

Her tone left no room for debate. “Y-yeah, okay,” Rumi’s face burned as she shifted a bit, slipped her underwear down and tossed them aside. (They stuck briefly to her thighs, something she could only pray the others hadn’t noticed.) She pressed her legs together, self-conscious. Even that small amount of relief shot all through her body like an electric shock.

But Mira wasn’t satisfied. “Two choices, babe. You either spread your legs for us, or you keep your hands up by your head and watch. Up to you.”

Zoey’s head lolled lazily to the side, her glazed eyes running all along Rumi’s body. “Yeah, Rumi. We wanna see you.”

Rumi bit her lip, glancing between Mira and Zoey’s matching ravenous expressions, and let her thighs part.

(Despite all they’d been through together, she still felt shy about this. She’d never put much thought into what she must look like when she touched herself before—if anything, she’d done just the opposite. But now, with the weight of Mira and Zoey’s gaze pressing the air from her lungs, she felt exposed. On display, presented for their approval.)

“Pretty girl.” Mira’s words wiped away her thoughts in an instant. Pretty pretty pretty. Mindless, Rumi’s hand found its way back to her center, teasing along her folds and gliding frictionless through her own slick. “Isn’t she pretty, Zoey?”

Zoey opened her mouth to answer, but any words were caught up in a squeal when Mira tweaked her other nipple without warning. “You’rereallyprettyRumi.” The words tumbled out of her mouth in a strained groan, but Zoey (so nice, always so caring) still tried her very best to offer Rumi a smile. Her cheeks were blotted red, and her eyes watered; still, she smiled.

“Don’t worry about her.” Mira addressed Rumi as she massaged Zoey’s breast, soothing the hurt. “She likes it if you’re a bit rough with her. She’s so easy.” As if to demonstrate, Mira ran her nails down the length of Zoey’s stomach, leaving little red lines in their wake. Zoey let out a long, breathy whine, spreading her legs eagerly as Mira repositioned herself to lie between Zoey’s thighs. Close enough to take Zoey into her mouth if she wanted, and all Rumi could think of was how each exhale must feel against Zoey’s sex. How it would feel on her own.

Mira tucked her hair carelessly behind her ear, catching Rumi’s eyes once more. “You see? She’s making such a mess already. Aw.” She tsked, disapproving, and spread Zoey’s lips with two fingers, baring her completely. Then: “Pay attention, Rumi.”

Mira licked slowly into Zoey’s sex, and Rumi’s own whimper was drowned out by Zoey’s. Then she repeated the action, decadent and showy. Eyes boring into Rumi’s the entire time.

Rumi’s hips jerked, her fingers slipping against her clit. Gracelessly working herself up, her breath coming in short, uneven pants. Fighting the urge to let her eyes slip shut, because Mira had told her to watch.

After a few more teasing licks, Mira fitted her mouth properly against Zoey’s cunt—devouring, where she’d been playful and flashy before—and Zoey nearly rocketed off the bed with a desperate wail. Mira tilted her head just slightly, and Zoey’s breathy gasps pitched up an octave, her eyes squeezed shut.

Rumi couldn’t help but lower her hand, circling a finger around her entrance just once before pressing inside.

(Fucking herself, too needy to wait another moment. But even as she could feel the climax beginning to build inside her, Rumi held back. She’d already embarrassed herself enough for the evening, she didn’t need to come from humping her own hand pathetically while her partners fucked each other in the same bed.)

But she was enjoying the sight of them, Zoey and Mira together. They—they looked so good like this, so perfect, and Rumi wanted to soak up every detail. The way Mira wrapped a possessive arm around Zoey’s thigh and coaxed Zoey’s leg over her shoulder. The way Zoey reached blindly down for Mira, fisting her hand in Mira’s hair and pulling her closer. The way she’d started babbling—

“Please, Mira, right there, don’t stop, yes, yes, need you, please, please, please!”

—like she couldn’t hold her thoughts back, couldn’t keep her pleasure contained within herself. The sounds she made so unabashedly were obscene, like something from an adult film. Fuck, Rumi rutted into her hand, grinding her clit against her palm.

“So close, Mira, don’t stop, please, it’s so good!”

Zoey’s ankle dug into Mira’s back, her hips thrusting into Mira’s mouth. Her eyes opened, dark and heady and fixated on Rumi even as her chest heaved and the muscles in her thigh flexed. Rumi groaned at the sight of her, curled the finger inside herself to press against her walls.

“So close so close so close don’t stop!”

And then, her back arched dramatically off the mattress.

“Mira!”

Zoey came with a yelp, voice as beautiful in that moment as any song she’d ever written, body pulled taught. Then, as if coming back into herself, she collapsed back onto the bed, rolling her hips in a lazy rhythm as she rode out the waves of her orgasm.

Her eyes never left Rumi’s, through it all.

And Rumi just watched, greedy and hungry for more even as she slowed her own hips to match Zoey’s pace. Trying to live in that moment in whatever way she could, for as long as she could. Even if the growing pressure between her legs was driving her mad.

“Wow,” Zoey finally gasped, voice ragged. A grin spread slowly across her face—spaced out and lopsided—and she nudged Mira’s shoulder with her foot. “This is so much better with Rumi here! I always hated having to be so quiet all the time.”

Mira shrugged Zoey’s leg off of her and lifted her head, a line of slick clinging between her lower lip and Zoey’s cunt for one agonizing second before snapping. “You were never any good at it anyway,” she said, so calm and unaffected and steady. Like her hair wasn’t all mussed from Zoey’s hands, like her lips weren’t shiny with Zoey’s come. “It’ll be nice to not have you trying to bite through my hand like a rabid dog, I guess.”

And Rumi wasn’t sure what exactly it was that pushed her over the edge—between the visual of Mira’s freshly-fucked face, the sounds of Zoey’s moans echoing through her mind, or the thought of Mira clamping a hand over Zoey’s mouth as she fucked her into the mattress. But a pitiful whine slipped past her lips, and she found herself pleading without even meaning to. “Mira, Zoey, please, I need—”

Needed their hands on her, instead of her own.

“Aww, Rumi, look at you!” Zoey cooed, rolling limply onto her side, limbs floppy. She looked Rumi up and down, taking in her humiliating state. Her eyes lingered at the apex of Rumi’s thighs, where Rumi’s finger had stilled inside herself. Like flicking a switch, all Zoey’s previous exhaustion and contentment melted away, replaced with her normal abundance of enthusiasm. “Were you waiting for us? ‘Cause that’s really cute.”

All at once, Rumi became the full center of their attention. Zoey scooted her way over to Rumi’s side, resting her cheek against Rumi’s shoulder. Her fingers tickled at Rumi’s ribcage before trailing higher to toy with her breast. Mira wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and crawled her way back over to Rumi, each movement controlled and sensual, even with her hair and face a mess. She knelt between Rumi’s spread legs and wrapped slender fingers tight around Rumi’s wrist, trapping her hand against her cunt with a harsh grip. “I think she knows we’ll make her come so much harder than she could by herself.”

God, Rumi was trapped. Held in place, exactly where her girls wanted her. Prey. She gasped, bucking her hips weakly into their joint hands with a whine. And Mira? She laughed, low and dark and cruel. “What’s wrong, baby?” she taunted. “I thought you wanted us, but here you are playing with yourself.”

“‘M sorry!” Tears pricked at Rumi’s eyes, heat flooding her face. Mira’s disapproving tone stung at something deep inside of her, even as Zoey curled up even closer to her and dropped a placating kiss on her collarbone. She could be good, she could do better. “Want you both, please!”

“There you go.” The harsh edge had faded from Mira’s voice, replaced with something saccharine—candied sweetness that did little to conceal the venom hidden beneath. “You want it so bad, don’t you?” At the same time, Zoey’s lips trailed up along her neck, following the line of her patterns. Teeth lightly grazing against Rumi’s skin.

“Yes!” Fuck, Rumi’s voice was unrecognizable. Sad and broken and weak, with an oddly low rumble undercutting her words. It sounded nothing like her, but she didn’t care. “Need you!”

“Poor baby, I can feel you dripping all over your hand. Zoey, look at how ready she is for us.” Mira pulled at Rumi’s wrist, guiding her hand away from herself despite Rumi’s helpless little whimper of protest and holding it up for Zoey to inspect. Rumi’s fingers and even her palm glistened with slick, and Rumi bit her lip, face burning. She had to fight the urge to close her eyes, because she just knew that wouldn’t make Mira happy. Pay attention.

“Ooh!” Zoey’s whole face lit up at the sight, whether oblivious to Rumi’s distress or simply uncaring. “I wanna taste! Come on!” She opened her mouth wide, sticking out her tongue for good measure. “Aah!”

Mira snorted, a fond expression slipping through despite her best efforts. “You’re so weird.” Despite that, she guided Rumi’s limp hand up towards Zoey’s spot at her shoulder.

Zoey leaned forward, enthusiastic, and took two of Rumi’s fingers into her mouth. Just centimeters away from Rumi’s face. As she watched. Oh.

Zoey’s mouth was hot, was all Rumi could think. Hot and wet, teeth scraping against her knuckles. Zoey’s tongue flicked at her fingertips before slipping between her fingers, lapping every trace of Rumi’s arousal away like she was starving for it. Then she closed her lips around Rumi’s fingers and sucked, and if it weren’t for Mira’s firm grip on her wrist Rumi was pretty sure her entire arm might have fallen completely slack.

“Cute,” Mira said. And then, without warning, shoved Rumi’s hand hard against Zoey’s face, driving her fingers deep into her mouth. Zoey gagged around the intrusion, eyes watering up and a mixture of her own saliva and Rumi’s slick spilling onto her chin as she coughed. But she recovered quickly, then took the entire length of Rumi’s fingers into her mouth with a contented hum, like Rumi was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

Mira did let go of her wrist, then. And, sure enough, Rumi’s arm did sort of awkwardly fall, boneless, fingers slipping out of Zoey’s mouth with a wet pop. Zoey groaned in displeasure, head slumping forward to chase the taste. Rumi opened her mouth to apologize—to say something—but all that came out was a light squeak.

Because Mira had settled between Rumi’s legs, just like she had with Zoey just minutes before, looking down at her cunt with open hunger.

“Please!” The word had barely slipped past Rumi’s lips when Mira rewarded her by lowering her head, peppering too-light kisses along Rumi’s sex. Lips so soft and breath so hot, as Mira teased Rumi’s labia with the tip of her tongue. Whether deliberately toying with her or just testing the waters, Rumi couldn’t say. But it wasn’t enough. Rumi bucked her hips up, desperate for more pressure, and very nearly cried when they were pushed back down against the mattress, held firmly in place beneath Mira’s hands. “Mira, please, I need you!”

Rumi could feel Mira’s lips curling up into a smirk, could feel the dark, low chuckle against her folds reverberating all throughout her body. And when Mira swiped her tongue slowly along the length of her slit, Rumi’s hips jerked beneath Mira’s hands like a livewire.

A hand on Rumi’s chin tilted her face to the side, and before Rumi’s clouded mind could even parse what was happening Zoey’s had pulled her into a sloppy kiss. The flat of Mira’s tongue pressed against Rumi’s clit, and her lips parted with a soundless gasp. Zoey took full advantage, licking into Rumi’s mouth—fuck, Rumi could taste herself on Zoey’s tongue.

Mira drew Rumi’s clit between her lips and sucked just as Zoey pulled Rumi’s lip between her teeth, and oh. Rumi tried to hold off against the onslaught, wanted it to last longer, wanted it to never stop, but. She tangled a hand in Mira’s hair to pull her closer, cried into Zoey’s mouth, and came against Mira’s tongue. Her whole body arched and shaking, hips fighting against Mira’s grip to grind on her face, breath coming in short, uneven pants against Zoey’s lips. Mira rolled her tongue against Rumi’s throbbing clit all throughout, drawing her climax out as long as possible.

And it was good. It was so good. Easily the best orgasm she’s ever had. And yet Rumi’s whole body screamed out for more. She’d come too fast, had barely gotten to feel them, and it wasn’t fair. She needed their hands on her like she needed air in her lungs.

“More.” It took a moment for Rumi to register that the deep, needy voice belonged to herself. A moment longer for her to realize just what she’d said, what she was doing. “More, please, I need it!” She should be embarrassed, she should be ashamed, but… Rumi was aching for it. “Please don’t stop!”

“Oh, fuck,” Zoey breathed against her chin.

“Greedy.” Mira’s harsh tone clashed with her approving smile, with the way she lowered her head back down to Rumi’s sex.

(And, yes. Rumi was greedy. She’d gotten a taste of their love, and she wanted more and more and more. Wanted to drown in it. Wanted everything they could give her, everything she could take, and then some.)

Mira started out slowly—short, gentle licks just around Rumi’s oversensitive clit, moving briefly lower, licking into her. Rumi whimpered at the feel of it, and then whimpered again when Zoey kissed her way over to Rumi’s ear.

“You look so pretty right now, Rumi,” she whispered, lips brushing against Rumi’s earlobe. “I’ve always wanted to see what you’d look like when you come, and you’re so perfect. So good. You’re glowing so bright.” And something in the way Zoey spoke, the fascination plain in her voice, gave Rumi a brief moment of pause. She said it so easily, made it sound like such a good thing—

But then, Mira circled her tongue around Rumi’s clit, and any hope of actual thought was long gone. All Rumi could do was arch her back, curl her toes, bite down on her lip to hold back what would surely be an embarrassing whimper.

“Ah, ah,” Zoey scolded, tapping Rumi’s chin in warning. She ran two fingers gently along Rumi’s lip, coaxing it free. “Don’t do that. I want to hear you. You make such nice sounds. It’s like you’re begging for more without even saying anything, and it’s really cute.” Then, those dainty fingers parted Rumi’s lips, working their way into her mouth. Without a conscious thought, Rumi felt her jaw slacken, inviting Zoey’s fingers in even deeper. “Honestly? It makes me want to be a bit rough with you.” Rumi gasped, hit with two conflicting desires at once. One, to turn away and hide her face in a pillow. The other, to lean into Zoey’s hand, to rock her hips into Mira’s mouth, to ask for more.

She sucked at Zoey’s fingers, curled her tongue around them, driven entirely by instinct, by the heady look in Zoey’s eyes. Rumi panted around them as Mira began to flick her tongue against her clit. No more slow build-up; Mira lapped at her messily, shamelessly. And high-pitched whimpers spilled from Rumi’s lips with each breath, uncontained.

“See, isn’t this better?” Zoey’s fingers curled down, pressing against Rumi’s tongue and making her eyes water. “You look so good with my fingers in your mouth like that, Rumi. And you’re making such cute sounds, too.” Her fingers parted, then captured Rumi’s tongue between them. “Do you want Mira’s fingers, Rumi? I bet they’d feel so good inside you right now.”

Rumi groaned her assent, unable to do anything else. Mira’s hands bearing down on her hips, Zoey’s in her mouth, holding her captive beneath them. Mira’s lips on her cunt while Zoey’s brushed the shell of her ear. All she could do in that moment was take, like it was all she was for.

Without any warning, Mira lifted her head away from Rumi’s sex with a stern expression. Pulled away from her, unmoved by Rumi’s despairing cries. “Zoey asked you a question,” she said, voice firm. “Don’t be rude. Give her a proper answer.”

Rumi thrashed beneath them, burning and aching and empty. “Ah! Yah, ah wan’!” It was the best she could manage with Zoey’s fingers pinching her tongue, with saliva spilling onto her chin. And Rumi could only hope that it was good enough. Her cheeks were wet with tears, now—she had to be good enough. Needed it more than anything else.

“Aw, she sounds so sad.” Zoey freed Rumi’s tongue from her grip and smeared her fingers against Rumi’s cheek. She caught Mira’s eyes and offered a cheeky grin. “I think she’d do anything you asked right now.”

“I know.” Mira teased two fingers against Rumi’s folds, avoiding her clit. Coating her fingers in Rumi’s come, as if it was even necessary, as if— “She’s so ready. I think she likes being a good girl for us.”

Two fingers thrust into her, slow and testing. Curling and dragging against Rumi’s walls as they retreated. “Yes!” Mira’s fingers began to pump in and out at a leisurely pace, and Zoey was nibbling at her ear, and Rumi was yelling and squirming and making a mess of herself, and she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t help but bare herself to them completely. “Yes, please, Mira, please!”

Mira’s next thrust had a third finger pressing inside of Rumi, stretching her out. “Oh, she loves it.” She thrust a few more times—faster now, faster finally—before leaning forward to take Rumi back into her mouth. And Rumi fucking jolted, near-sobbing at the feeling of Mira’s tongue flicking against her clit in combination with her fingers fucking into her properly now, so hard and fast Rumi could hear each wet thrust.

“Hey, shh.” Zoey’s words were soft and sweet in her ear. “It’s okay. You’re taking her so well, Rumi. So pretty like this.” Then, even lower, as if sharing a secret: “I want to play with your mouth some more, but you’ve got to promise not to bite, okay?”

“Please.” Frankly, Rumi didn’t really know what she was even agreeing to. Every movement, every word was bringing her closer to the edge. But it didn’t matter, because Zoey’s fingers slipped back inside her mouth just as Mira’s fingers bottomed out inside her cunt, filling her on both sides. Zoey curled one finger around Rumi’s lip, pulling it to the side to expose the inside of her mouth; another ran up and down along the length of one of Rumi’s teeth.

“So hot…” Zoey stared into Rumi’s mouth, transfixed. “You’ve got these big, sharp teeth, but you’re just too sweet to bite me, aren’t you? You just want to be a good girl for us, huh?” Mira’s tongue swiped against her clit, her fingers fucking into Rumi—stretching her, driving her out of her mind. Rumi gasped, helpless, hands scrambling for leverage before tangling in Mira’s sheets. Her hips rocked into each thrust as if chasing the feeling, and her walls clenched around Mira’s fingers.

Zoey giggled, like her words weren’t so filthy and destructive: “Well, you are. You’re being so good for us. Our good girl.” Mira’s fingers curved upwards inside Rumi, pressing against her just right.

Rumi’s whole body stiffened, and with Zoey’s fingers in her mouth she wasn’t able to muffle a scream as her orgasm washed through her. She clenched down hard on Mira’s fingers, pulsing around them and grinding her clit desperately against Mira’s flattened tongue—riding the aftershocks that kept rolling and rolling and rolling through her whole body as Mira fucked her through her climax.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Rumi's whole body fell limp. All she could do was lie there, gasping in deep, heaving breaths. Her head was empty of all thoughts, too focused on her racing heart, the chill of tears and spit stinging her cheeks. Zoey’s fingers tapped once more at the point of Rumi’s teeth before pulling away. They slid down Rumi’s chin, her neck, her chest, and rested just above her breast.

“Rumi,” Zoey coaxed, gentle. And then, after a moment without a response, she tried again: “Rumi, baby, you’ve gotta let Mira go now.” She tapped at Rumi’s chest, drawing her attention, and with a great deal of effort Rumi was able to eventually glance down to find her legs locked around Mira’s head, patterns glowing strong.

Fuck. She let her trembling thighs fall to the side, but her apologies just came out in the form of a satiated groan.

“Hey, I wasn’t gonna complain,” Mira said, obviously pleased. She rested her cheek against Rumi’s thigh, and Rumi had to close her eyes. Mira’s lips, her nose, even her chin were wet with Rumi’s come. She—she’d messed up Mira’s face, had smeared herself all over her like an animal, and it seemed so wrong. Rumi’s cheeks heated, even as her cunt pulsed weakly around Mira’s stilled fingers.

“Hey, Mira,” Zoey said, and she had that tone. The exact tone that meant she was about to get her way, and that Rumi and Mira were about to enable her.

“Hmm?” Those long fingers filling her up began to pull away, sticky and wet, and Rumi whined at the loss, at the sudden emptiness inside her.

“I think she needs one more, from me.”

And Rumi tried to protest. Really, she did. Her whole body felt limp and sensitive, raw. Used up and spent, in the best way possible. Her thighs shook on either side of Mira’s face, and her hands lie uselessly beside her. But all that could escape Rumi’s lips was a small whimper.

“Oh?” Even with her eyes closed, Rumi could picture Mira’s expression. That impassive mask, betrayed by an intense glint in her eye. “I dunno. You think she can take it?”

“Of course she can. Look at this.” Zoey’s fingers dipped lower, tracing Rumi’s nipple before carefully pinching the stiff bud between two fingers. Pulling lightly and drawing a strangled, inhuman cry out of Rumi, something from deep in her chest. “See? She wants it. And you already got to give her two.”

A moment’s pause, and then Rumi felt lips brushing against her cheek. Zoey whispered softly, “Rumi, open your eyes. Look at me.” Rumi cracked her eyes open to find Zoey looking down at her. Looking down at her with those big, beautiful, pleading, sad eyes that sparkled and shone and deserved the whole world. “Rumi, baby.” Her voice was delicate, imploring—a pretense of fragility in need of protection, no less effective for being so obviously fake. “You can do one more, just for us. Won’t you do it for me, unnie?”

And, to Rumi’s horror, she found herself nodding slowly, as if in a daze. “Yeah,” she breathed. “For you.”

Slowly, a smile spread across Zoey’s face, some frightening combination of sugary sweet and sinister. She drank in the vulnerability written plain on Rumi’s face with open hunger and slid her hand down Rumi’s stomach, leaving a trail of heat that spread all throughout her, pooling at her core. “Oh, you’re going to be fun.” Zoey’s voice, that silky smooth tone mixed with such obvious approval, made a shiver run through Rumi’s body. She was spent and sore and trembling, but now she was aching all over again.

“You’re gonna break her.” Despite Mira’s warning, she didn’t sound particularly displeased at the thought. Instead, she nestled her face into the softness of Rumi’s inner thigh, making herself right at home between Rumi’s legs and just watching with keen interest. Like Rumi’s messy unraveling was a private show for her benefit, for her eyes only.

(Those sharp, analytical eyes that let Mira memorize and recreate moves she’d seen only once. Right in front of Rumi’s cunt, taking her in, examining her. Every part of Rumi, open and bare before her, with nothing to hide or distract. Fuck, Rumi felt Mira’s eyes on her body like a physical touch, and that ache just grew worse.)

Zoey’s hand paused at Rumi’s mound, her nails tracing flowery shapes into her heated skin. “I won’t,” Zoey’s words were directed at Mira, even as her nose brushed Rumi’s. “I’ll be super nice to her, I promise.”

“Damn. That’s a shame.” Mira’s lips moved against Rumi’s thigh as she spoke, and for just a moment Rumi thought she felt the light nip of teeth. “Just so you know, I don’t think she wants you to be that nice. I can tell.”

Rumi tensed, embarrassment mixing with the arousal flooding through her. Mira—she could always tell.

Zoey gasped at Mira’s words, hips shifting uncomfortably near Rumi’s side, and pulled Rumi into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Her tongue flicked at Rumi’s lip, and her fingers glided even lower, teasing oh-so-light at Rumi’s sensitive folds. The simple touch still ricocheted through Rumi’s body in an instant—nothing more than sensation.

Rumi hissed at the contact, trying both to scoot away from Zoey’s hand and also to thrust into it. All she managed was a pathetic wiggle and a small noise captured by Zoey’s lips. But true to her word, Zoey avoided directly touching Rumi’s clit, instead stroking her in careful, leisurely circles. Letting Rumi’s pained gasps blossom into soft moans instead, her growing need overwhelming her exhaustion. Working her way up into a steady rhythm that Rumi could match with her hips.

It was a rhythm Mira happily destroyed, with no more warning for Rumi than the brief feeling of Mira’s fingertips at her entrance. Then, Mira was inside her, penetrating Rumi with two fingers, pushing into her so abruptly that for a moment her vision swirled, the room vanishing around her. Mira pumped her fingers into her at a ruthless pace, gliding through her well-fucked cunt with no resistance, no friction.

The slow build-up was gone, along with the last of Rumi’s thoughts. All she could do was feel the way Zoey followed Mira’s cue and rubbed the pad of her finger fast against Rumi’s clit, and the way Mira’s fingers curled inside her, pressing up in harsh, seeking motions, and the way Zoey’s tongue pressed into her mouth, running along the back of her teeth, and the way Mira’s eyes were fixed on Rumi—on her thighs, her patterns, her cunt, everything she had now on display.

Rumi didn’t last long under their onslaught. Each jerk of her hips away from Zoey’s fingers just pushed her harder against Mira’s hand. Caught helplessly between them, she’d never even stood a chance. Not when they’d teamed up like this, fingers moving in tandem and working so efficiently together it was like they were pulling the orgasm from Rumi’s body.

Her climax hit her hard, tore through her body—not even pleasure, exactly. Relief. A wire pulled too taught, finally snapping. And for a moment, it was like she was completely outside her body, feeling numb and tingly. She heard herself, heard her own voice crying out something that might have once been Zoey’s and Mira’s names, now unrecognizable. She heard Zoey let out a short, startled whimper into Rumi’s mouth that quickly turned into a satisfied groan. She heard the wet sounds of two hands stroking her cunt, slowing their pace to work her through her orgasm until she was like putty, slack and yielding beneath them.

Rumi collapsed back onto the mattress for the final time that night. Unable to do anything else but enjoy the way the odd, weightless feeling buzzing in her skull combined with the pleasant ache all throughout her body. The ceiling above her was spinning, and the hands had moved away from her tender sex. One pet gently at her thighs; the other, her lower belly. Zoey had pulled away from the kiss to face Mira, and they—they were talking about something.

“—fine, I promise. See? Not even bleeding.” That was Zoey. “She just got me a bit with her fangs, right at the end. Did you see those?” Her voice was so pretty, and Rumi found herself sinking even further at the sound of it, at the feeling of a warm palm massaging her trembling thigh.

“I saw you drooling over them. Very subtle, by the way. Very cool.” Mira was teasing Zoey, then. Rumi sort of liked that. It felt—normal. Comfy. The same sort of relaxed banter that would follow a lazy weekend morning, when they’d waste away half the day debating on-and-off over what to do with their free time, and having all the more fun because of it.

“Good thing we don’t have to be subtle anymore then, huh? Besides, you could barely keep your hands off her all night, and that’s way more embarrassing.” Zoey reached for Mira, coaxing her to crawl her way up towards them. “At least Rumi already knew I have no chill.” Mira rolled her eyes, not even attempting to hide her smile away as she followed Zoey’s unspoken instruction and settled next to her. Both were sitting at Rumi’s side, then, as if guarding over her. Even while bickering with each other.

And Rumi opened her mouth, tried to respond. To say something like 'I love you' or 'I want to take care of you as soon as I can feel my legs again' or 'thank you for keeping me' or any number of other overly-revealing comments she was still unused to actually speaking aloud. But the words wouldn’t come. Just a soft whine.

It still did the trick; Zoey and Mira had both focused on her in an instant. “Do you need anything?” Zoey fretted. “Water? I can get you whatever.”

“N-no.” Rumi’s voice was hoarse, her tongue thick in her mouth. “Just—come closer. Please?” She wasn’t sure what she wanted, exactly. She only knew she felt chilly and overheated both at once, felt light and floaty even while her limbs were made of lead. Only knew she wanted them.

(It was still such a frightening thing, asking for more love than she’d been offered. And when she spoke, her tooth caught against her lip. It was—they were big and wrong in her mouth, misshapen and visible and so so so obvious for anyone to see. How would she hide them? Would they go away? Something had to be wrong—)

Before Rumi even had the time to properly spiral, Zoey had already let out an eager “Yes!” and had thrown herself backwards onto the mattress. She bounced a bit, but still managed to line herself up face-to-face with Rumi, barely any space between them, although each centimeter felt like a chasm. “Oh, this is perfect! Mira! You go here.” Zoey patted Rumi’s chest, as if offering it up as a seat. Then she leaned her head close to Rumi and whispered, a conspiratorial grin plastered to her face, “You’re gonna love this, Rumi. She gets so cute, it’s the best thing you’ll ever see.”

Mira still sat up, towering above the other two. She bit her lip, fussed with the waistband of her leggings, not quite meeting Rumi’s eye. “I mean,” she started, cautious. “If—only if that’s what Rumi wants, you know?”

“Mira.” Rumi’s mind was still too cloudy and sluggish to put the words together properly. Instead, she lifted her chin, offered a hopefully-inviting smile. “C’mere?”

“Oh, well—” Mira moved as fast as Rumi had ever seen, like it was a matter of life and death. She squeezed herself into the small space between Rumi and Zoey, and as a result settled halfway on top of Rumi. Her weight pushed Rumi into the mattress, sinking down on top of her like a warm security blanket, keeping her from drifting away. “I mean, if that’s what you guys want, then it’s okay. It’s whatever.” Her forehead pressed against Rumi’s chest, and Mira nestled in even further. Didn’t stop until her head was tucked into Rumi’s neck, face snug against her skin.

(—Rumi’s worries melted away, completely out of sight. Her patterns cast a strange glow against the bedsheets and even Mira’s skin, openly exposed to the air. Her teeth felt unfamiliar in her mouth, and she had no way of knowing whether they’d—if they’d change again. But she was comfortable, a pleasant ache running through her body and making her eyelids heavy. Her girls were with her, and they’d keep her from falling apart.)

Without a second thought, Rumi reached for Mira’s arm and guided it around herself into a proper hug. And Mira made no effort to resist, letting herself be repositioned and then clinging onto Rumi’s waist like Rumi was the one solid thing in a world tilting sideways.

Zoey draped an arm lazily around Mira, spooning her from behind and slowly scratching her back. She didn’t say anything, but she did catch Rumi’s eyes over Mira’s shoulder. She did look pointedly down when Mira draped her leg over Rumi’s hip. She did raise her eyebrows up and down with a cheesy grin, wordlessly communicating a ‘see what I mean?’ in such a silly, overly dramatic way that Rumi had to fight back her own giggles.

“Your patterns look really nice like this.” Mira’s voice was small, barely intelligible, muffled against the nape of Rumi’s neck. Come to think of it, with the way her face was pressed against Rumi, she probably had patterns glowing right up in her eyes. And yet, Mira didn’t seem particularly bothered about the flashbanging, only pressing impossibly closer when Rumi’s patterns flickered at the praise.

“Yeah,” Zoey agreed, barely more than a whisper. “We’re so happy we get to see them now.”

Mira just hummed her agreement, quickly becoming a deadweight on Rumi’s chest.

(And Rumi? She wanted to live in this moment forever; she wanted to bottle up this unfamiliar feeling and keep it with her. It was an odd warmth, filling her chest near to bursting, threatening to spill over. It was a gentle breeze sweeping her usual anxieties away. It was an easy certainty that she was exactly where she belonged.)

She met Zoey’s eyes and smiled, learning the way her fangs felt against her lips. “I’m happy, too.”