Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Things were good. Rumi was good.
Zoey and Mira told her that often, and she held those words close to her chest, where they melted her insides into something warm and soft. The mark on her arm glowed faintly, happy and content.

Morning light spilled across the bed where she lay, nestled between her beautiful girlfriends, her packmates. She stretched, just enough to press herself closer, a warm little sandwich between them. She could feel their body heat, the steady rise and fall of their breath against her skin.

Rumi cracked one eye open.

Zoey’s face was inches away, her breath tickling Rumi’s nose. She smiled and leaned in to nuzzle her neck, inhaling her scent. It was familiar and grounding, something like home. A tiny hum escaped her throat, followed by a soft chirp, before she nuzzled again.

“Uurgh, Rumi,” Zoey mumbled with a yawn. She wrapped an arm around her. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled sleepily, her fingers running gently through Rumi’s hair.

Rumi huffed softly, twisting in her hold to face Mira and offer the same morning affection. Before she could reach her, Mira’s strong arms pulled her in tight, her head landing against Mira’s chest. Zoey shifted too, curling around her from behind.

“We love you,” Mira whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But let’s sleep a bit longer, okay?”

Rumi sighed again, but the feel of their arms wrapped around her was too good to resist. Her body relaxed instinctively.

Zoey giggled behind her. “I love how you get all kitty-like sometimes.”

Rumi blinked. The realization of what she had been doing hit her all at once, and her face went scarlet. She tried to bury it in her hands, only to find them still gently pinned in Mira’s grasp. So she hid her face in Mira’s neck instead, mortified.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I… I don’t know what came over me.”

Mira tilted her head, her voice soft. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” She gave Rumi a gentle squeeze. “Like Zoey said, it’s honestly kind of adorable.”

“Like super super cute,” Zoey agreed, snuggling in closer.

A comfortable silence settled between them as Rumi pondered their words. Mira and Zoey continued to pet her gently, giving her time to think, to feel.

Eventually, Rumi hesitantly nuzzled against Mira’s neck again, a tiny chirp escaping her lips, followed by a soft, contented hum.

Two hums answered her, one from each side.

Now that she had been given permission, it felt like she couldn’t stop anymore.
She just loved her packmates girlfriends.

Whenever she saw one of them alone on the couch, she had to go to them. She would drape herself across their laps, chirp and hum until they gave her attention. She gently bumped her head against them when they walked past, which always earned her soft touches and warm smiles.

Her pattern would flicker happily whenever their fingers traced along her skin, combed through her hair, or simply held her close. It felt so right.

Eventually, it became normal.

So when Bobby came over for a meeting with Mira, Rumi didn’t think twice. Mira had said she would handle everything and that Rumi didn’t need to be involved, if she didn't want to. And she originally had taken opportunity to stay back. But with nothing else to do, she found herself drawn to Mira’s presence.

She padded into the room, walked straight over, gave a small head bump, and chirped softly as she climbed into Mira’s lap.

Right in front of Bobby.

Rumi froze. Her humming stopped. It took a few seconds for her to realize what she had just done. Her face flushed hot with embarrassment, and she started to sit up to apologize.

But Bobby simply blinked at her, then gave her a calm smile.

“Should we make an announcement,” he asked, “or are you hoping to keep it private for now?”

Rumi nearly choked on a breath. His kindness and calmness hit her hard.

Mira held her close and answered gently. “We’d like to keep things private for now. But we’ll come out when we’re ready.”

Bobby nodded. “I’ll start preparing things on my end. Everything will be ready whenever you are.”

“Mmm,” Mira said, petting Rumi’s head, “Zoey is with us too.”

Rumi could feel Bobby beaming at them, though she couldn’t bring herself to look at him at the moment.

“Congratulations. This makes me so happy. All my girls together,” he gushed.

Then the meeting continued as if Rumi sitting in Mira’s lap was the most normal thing in the world.
Maybe it was.

Rumi listened with only part of her attention. At one point, she offered a quiet thought about the current marketing plan, and both Mira and Bobby took it seriously. They even adjusted their outline in response.

After the meeting ended, Bobby came over and looked at her with pride and affection in his eyes.

“I’m so thrilled for you, Rumi,” he said. “You deserve all the joy in the world.”

Rumi hugged him. Maybe a bit too hard, but Bobby didn’t seem to mind.

He got head bumps now too.

He didn’t complain about those either.

Chapter Text

Rumi had a problem.

She was okay with needing a lot of affection.  

She was getting better at asking for it.  

She was learning to live with the fact that she craved her girlfriends her packmates presence like water.  

She was okay with needing to see them, to touch them, to hear their heartbeats, to breathe in their scent.  

She was even okay with the way she sometimes glowed or made strange noises around them.  

But what she wasn’t okay with was the part of her that wanted even more.

Lately, she had been craving to taste them.

They had agreed that their relationship could be, and probably would be sexual. That they were together in every sense of the word. But they were taking things so slow.

And Rumi was okay with that too.

Mira had explained that her instincts and trauma made her more vulnerable now. That was Mira’s word, not hers. Zoey had said, gently, that they just didn’t want to overstep. Rumi didn’t think they could give her too much. 

But Rumi loved them both for that. For caring. For making sure she felt safe.
But still, they hadn’t kissed. Not even once.

And Rumi had no idea how to ask if she was allowed to taste them.

She didn’t necessarily mean a kiss. That might have made more sense. What she wanted was... different. She had to bite her lip to keep her tongue from slipping out when she nuzzled into their necks, when she tried to find the core of their scent.
And it hurt now, because apparently her demon fangs were really sharp.

She remembered, when Zoey had fallen asleep next to her on the tour bus. Rumi had stayed perfectly still, terrified that if she moved, the moment would break. Zoey’s scent had filled the air, warm and clean and sparking right down Rumi’s spine. She’d wanted to lean in, to nuzzle, to mark. But she hadn't.

Back then, she hadn’t dared ask for what she wanted.

She was pretty sure they would be okay with her licking them. Probably. Maybe.
But how do you even ask that?

It was kind of weird, right?

She had never been in a relationship before, but she was pretty sure "Can I lick you?" wasn’t a normal thing to ask your girlfriends packmates.

The first time it happened was an accident.
She hadn’t meant to do it.

They were curled up together on the couch, a soft, quiet kind of afternoon. Zoey’s arm was just there, warm and solid beneath Rumi’s cheek. She smelled so good. Grounding and alive. Like sun-warmed cedar and something underneath that was just... Zoey.

Rumi felt safe. Wrapped in the scent of her pack girlfriends. Surrounded by touch. Anchored by presence.

She licked her. Just a soft swipe of her tongue across Zoey’s skin. Barely more than a taste.

And Zoey tasted good. Safe. Familiar. Pack.

Rumi went very still.

To their credit, neither Zoey nor Mira made a big deal out of it. Zoey twitched slightly, glanced down at her, then hummed low and easy. But Rumi definitely caught the look they exchanged over her head. Mira raised one brow. Zoey bit back a smile.

And that was it.

The next time it happened, it was Mira.

Rumi had just finished a new choreo run, sweat clinging to her neck and her breath still fast. Mira had watched her with that look, the one that made Rumi want to drop to her knees without being asked. So she did. Just folded in front of her, forehead resting against Mira’s stomach like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mira’s hand slid into her hair, stroking gently. Rumi purred without thinking. Then tilted her face up and leaned in, pressing her cheek to Mira’s hip.

And then she licked her.

Just a flick of her tongue. Bare skin between Mira’s shirt and waistband.

Mira’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening in Rumi’s hair. She didn’t pull away, but she paused, just long enough to murmur, "Do you want this, princess?"

"Yes," Rumi whispered, the word tumbling out like a secret.

At that, Mira’s hand stroked gently down her scalp again, guiding her closer, letting her press in.

After that, something shifted. Or maybe it had already been shifting.

Because now, Rumi licked her girlfriends. Her packmates. 

Not constantly. Not wildly. But gently. Casually. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like scent and taste were part of affection, just as much as breath or heartbeat or touch.

She was still pretty sure this wasn’t something most people did.
Even if it felt perfectly right to her.

And now she wanted more.

She wanted to taste their mouths. She wanted to kiss them. So badly.

She was almost certain that part was normal in a relationship.

In the end, she only had to ask.

They were in rehearsal for their next concert, running through choreography. Rumi was watching them the whole practice, the way they moved, the way their voices filled the space. They were just so perfect.

She could feel herself falling for them all over again.

Sometimes, she still couldn’t believe they were hers.

She loved them so much.

Rumi blurted before she could think: "Can I kiss you?"

Both of them stumbled over their next move and landed in a heap on the floor.

"Whaaat," Mira gasped, blinking up at her in shock.

Zoey groaned, face flushed red. "You can’t just say stuff like that while I’m trying to concentrate."

Rumi rushed over to help them both up.

"I’m sorry," she said quickly, blushing furiously. "You were just so... and I’ve been meaning to talk about it, but it never felt like the right time." She looked away, fidgeting. "I was thinking it should be in a more romantic setting..."

But she was pulled down into their arms before she could finish, two sets of hands and soft fingers gently quieting her ramble.

"Are you sure?" Mira asked softly.

Rumi nodded, breath catching.

She didn’t move. She just waited, hands clasped in front of her like she might be called forward. Eyes wide. Hopeful. Hungry. Waiting to be wanted.

Zoey leaned in, voice warm and teasing. "Say it, princess. We need to hear it from that pretty mouth."

"Yes," Rumi gasped. "Yes, that’s all I’ve been thinking about lately."

Zoey didn’t wait. She cupped Rumi’s jaw, tilted her head just the way she liked, and kissed her like she was precious. Like she was theirs to care for.

Oh.

Rumi practically purred.

Every one of her senses was filled with Zoey. Her scent. Her warmth. The softness of her lips. The steady press of her hands. Her patterns went wild.

When Zoey finally pulled away far too soon, Mira leaned in to take her place.

Her lungs forgot how to work. She froze, patterns stuttering bright and dim.

Mira’s gaze was steady, grounding. She didn’t waste words. "Show me how much you’ve wanted this," she said softly, her breath tickling Rumi's face.

Rumi leaned toward her, tentative, careful of her sharp teeth. Their mouths still met clumsily, teeth colliding in her inexperience, and she flinched.

Her lips parted with the flinch, apology already rising, until Mira’s mouth steadied her. Mira’s mouth moved against hers with quiet confidence, steady and sure, guiding her through it.

This kiss was different. Slower. Deeper. But just as overwhelming.

Air snagged in her throat. Her thoughts scattered like leaves on a storm gust. Her heart pounded. Her lips tingled. Her whole body buzzed and flickered as Mira finally drew back.

A helpless chirp slipped out of her, almost a whimper. She butted her head gently against Mira’s collarbone, scenting her without thinking.

They had kissed her. Both of them.

And then, before she could even try to catch up, she was kissed again. Soft. Sweet. She couldn’t even tell whose mouth it was.

She hadn’t even caught her breath when they kissed each other. Right in front of her.

That was very nice too.

Not great for pulling herself together, though.

Her knees itched. She wasn’t sure if this counted as one of those moments, but it felt like it. Like she should be lower. Looking up at them. Waiting to be touched.

“You didn't have to wait so long to ask, you know,” Mira murmured against her lips.

Rumi blinked up at her, dazed.

“We’re yours too,” Zoey added, brushing her fingers along Rumi’s jaw. “We love you and want you to want us.”

She watched, dazed and glowing, as they turned back to her.

"For the record," Mira said, brushing her fingers along Rumi’s cheek, "you can always kiss me."

“And me.” Zoey scooted closer and pressed a quick kiss to her mouth.

Rumi blinked at them, lips parted slightly, still recovering.

She was pretty sure they didn’t understand what they had just allowed.

They did.

And they didn’t mind at all.

Chapter Text

Sometimes Rumi was not sure how equal this relationship was.

Not in the way most people would think. Mira and Zoey always made sure that even when she was on her knees, even when she wanted them to take control, she was heard and supported.

It was just that Mira and Zoey were so strong, steady, radiant.

Rumi stood on the balcony, braid damp against her shoulder, skin still glowing faintly from her shower. The rainbow pulse of Honmoon faded into Seoul’s neon scatter below, traffic a distant hum. Her demon patterns flickered faintly across her collarbone, restless with thoughts she tried to push down. The night air carried rain-slick asphalt and fried food from the street below, mixing with the clean trace of fabric softener still clinging to Mira’s shirt that hung inside.

Love was not about keeping score. She knew that. Still, some nights the worry lingered.

Movement caught her eye.

Inside, Mira paced, phone clutched in one hand, her knuckles pale where they gripped. Her other hand trembled at her side, nails tapping against her thigh. The harsh ceiling light caught on the wet sheen in her eyes.

It was that time again.

Mira’s relationship with her family was a tangle of pain. Despite the no-contact order, every now and then she would try to reach out.

Rumi understood. With her own history with Celine, she could hardly fault Mira for wanting to try. She hesitated, claws grazing the balcony railing. Mira guarded those calls like fragile glass. She usually wanted to face them alone, and she could snap if anyone intruded.

But the look on her face now… the tear clinging to her lashes…

Rumi slid the door open just enough to give a small, questioning chirp. Mira glanced up. She did not wave her away. That was enough.

She padded closer and reached for Mira’s hand, pressing a quick kiss against it, her markings sparking shy gold. The corners of Mira’s mouth softened into the faintest smile.

Rumi’s first instinct was to snatch the phone and throw it across the room, to destroy whatever words had made Mira’s eyes glisten. But this was Mira’s choice. They always respected one another’s choices.

So instead, Rumi leaned her head against Mira’s collarbone, nudging gently before guiding her toward the couch. She helped her sit, then stayed close as Mira’s voice continued through the call. Rumi did not need to know the words. Mira would share if she wanted to. For now, her only goal was to make her comfortable.

Drawing in a steady breath, Rumi lowered herself to her knees in front of her. She had started doing this more often, though the old fear of rejection still lingered.

She needn’t have worried. Mira’s fingers brushed her cheek, then tapped the pillow by the couch.

Rumi huffed in mock exasperation, and shoved the pillow under her knees. Mira rewarded her with a poke to the nose and a fleeting kiss.

The tension in Mira’s shoulders loosened a fraction.

Patterns warming, Rumi tilted her head into Mira’s hand, then carefully lifted it into her hair. A silent offer.

Mira accepted. Her fingers threaded into the braid, stroking gently. Each pass steadied her breathing. Every time her hand stilled, Rumi tilted her head insistently, like a cat butting for more. Sometimes the grip grew too tight, but Rumi only placed her hand on Mira’s knee and looked up until Mira caught herself and eased.

The call dragged. Mira’s voice cracked, dropped, went sharp, but Rumi stayed grounded at her feet, purring low in her throat, patterns pulsing warm as if to anchor her.

Every sharp edge in Mira’s tone traveled down through her hand into Rumi’s hair, but Rumi leaned into it anyway, holding steady, letting Mira’s trembling weight settle against her.

At last the phone was tossed aside. Mira groaned and hid her face in her hands.

Rumi fidgeted, claws catching fabric, but she could only bear her girlfriend’s pain so long. She rose slowly, coaxing Mira deeper into the cushions, then climbed onto her lap. She curled against her chest, pressing soft licks into her throat, chirping and purring until Mira’s arms closed around her.

Her fists clenched into Mira’s shirt. Her markings sparked frantic violet, hating how Mira’s scent carried grief.

But bit by bit, the patterns steadied. Mira’s hands moved again, stroking, grounding. Rumi exhaled, a long, shivery sigh as Mira’s scent softened back toward normal.

Still, guilt pricked at her. She lifted her head, eyes wide, patterns dim with uncertainty.

“I am sorry if I crossed a line,” she whispered. “You do not usually want company for these calls. You and Zoey always respect my boundaries and I…”

Mira silenced her with a kiss. Her voice was firm but gentle. “This was exactly what I needed. Thank you.” Another kiss, softer this time.

“I love you,” she whispered, pressing Rumi close again.

Rumi melted in relief, her markings glowing faint gold as she purred against Mira’s chest.

They dozed together for a while until Zoey draped a blanket over both of them, grinning as she leaned down to kiss their hair. “You two are hopeless,” she teased before wiggling around the side of the couch to slip under the covers with them.

“What would you do without your blanket supplier?” she joked as she settled in.

Rumi happily made room, headbutting her lightly in greeting and kissing her, just to be sure Zoey knew she was always welcome to join.

The three of them lay tangled together in quiet warmth, the only sound the rhythm of their breaths. Mira’s perfume clung faintly to the blanket, Zoey smelled like citrus shampoo, and together it was home. It was pack.

Rumi felt content, safe. But under it all, the thought still nagged at her. See? They are both so strong. Zoey is fine. Mira is fine. And me…

She pressed closer, as if her weight alone might prove she was useful. The warmth carried her into sleep.

Until night broke it.

A cry split the dark. Zoey.

She blinked herself awake as Zoey slipped quietly from the bed and padded out of the room, sheets tangled around her legs as if they did not want to let her go. Mira did not stir. She needed the rest after the night she had, so Rumi carefully eased away and followed their other girlfriend.

Zoey stood on the balcony, shoulders trembling, phone clutched tight. Rumi chirped, distressed, and rushed to wrap herself around her.

The night air caught on Zoey’s tears, glinting silver as she tried to smile through them. Her breath hitched, too fast, the sound sharp against the quiet city below.

“Oh, hi,” Zoey whispered, trying to hide her tears with a watery grin. “Sorry if I woke you. I tried to be quiet.”

Rumi whined, rubbing her cheek against Zoey’s neck, her markings flickering a worried violet. “Glad I woke. What is wrong?”

Zoey showed her the phone. A cruel comment.

Rumi frowned, confused. They all got those. It always hurt, but why this one?

Zoey’s breath shuddered. “It is my old high school bully. I know it is stupid to care, but… I just do not understand why she hates me so much. I did nothing to her and she…” Her words broke into another sob.

Rumi’s markings flared red, sharp with anger. “I cannot believe anyone would treat you this way. Who is she?”

Zoey let out a shaky laugh, tears still on her cheeks. “No, no. You don't need to know, she is nobody now, really. I have two perfect girlfriends. I am an idol. I hunted demons. We saved the world. Who cares what some idiot thinks?”

Rumi hummed, purring low to soothe her, though her patterns burned protective orange. She would never strike without Zoey’s wish, but she wanted to.

Instead she whispered against her hair. “You are wanted. Needed. We would be nothing without you.” Her markings softened, glowing steady reassurance as Zoey clung to her.

Eventually they returned to Mira, waking her despite their best efforts. Mira took one look and opened her arms, making room without a word. They all sank back into warmth.

It was something small that set her off. A sound in the dark. A trick of shadow against the wall. Or maybe just the weight of exhaustion pressing too deep.

Rumi’s breath caught. Her chest tightened, eyes darting to the corner where shadows shifted. For a terrible instant she thought she saw Celine standing there. Watching. Waiting.

Her claws snagged helplessly in the sheets as she curled tighter, the mattress feeling far too wide, too empty to keep her safe. Her patterns shattered into jagged, flickering light.

She curled up tight, pressing her forehead to her knees, trying to vanish. Small, broken chirps slipped from her throat. She tried to smother them, but her body trembled, shaking the mattress.

Mira’s hand found hers. Zoey cupped her face, thumb brushing away dampness.

“Rumi?” Zoey whispered. Mira pressed closer, steady as stone.

Rumi nuzzled desperately into Zoey’s hand, her markings flickering frantic colors. She hated needing so much. Hated always breaking. She dug claws into Mira’s sleeve and whispered, voice cracking,

“I am a burden. You always take care of me. I do not do enough for you.”

Mira tilted her chin up, firm and unshaken. “Rumi, you spent the whole night holding me together.”

Zoey laughed softly through damp lashes, nuzzling her temple. “And me. You protect us, give us strength. You are not a burden, sweetheart. You are the reason we shine.”

Rumi whimpered, patterns trembling before softening into steady gold. She rubbed her face against Zoey’s shoulder, then Mira’s chest, desperate to drown in their scents and warmth.

“You always smell like safety,” she mumbled, voice muffled.

Zoey huffed a watery laugh. “That’s just my fabric softener, princess.”

“Mine is lavender detergent,” Mira added, deadpan.

Rumi chirped, startled into a soft laugh despite the tears. Her markings shimmered, warm and playful now. She butted her forehead against both of them in turn, purring low.

They held her close, whispered love into her hair, and promised her again that she was theirs, always. And this time when she cried, it wasn’t from fear but from being safe. From being loved.

And when her tears faded, the three of them ended tangled together, Mira steady, Zoey humming nonsense into Rumi’s hair, Rumi glowing faintly gold as sleep finally pulled her under. The scent of her pack lingered around her, warm and content.

Chapter Text

The living room was full of noise and color. Blitzball splashed across the screen in bright blues, Tidus flailed his way through cutscenes, and Zoey hummed the soundtrack under her breath like she was twelve years old again.

“This was my whole childhood,” she announced proudly, drumming her fingers along to the music.

Mira sat beside her with arms crossed, feigning disinterest. “It looks ridiculous,” she muttered, though she was leaning close enough that Rumi knew she was invested too.

Zoey laughed. “Ridiculous and perfect. You’ll see.”

Rumi curled at their side, patterns pulsing soft gold, watching the story unfold. The game was strange, but Zoey’s excitement made it warm and silly and safe.

For a while, it was all cheering crowds and bright stadium lights, Tidus grinning through every awkward line. Mira rolled her eyes more than once, though her lips twitched when Zoey got caught up explaining the rules of Blitzball. Rumi only purred softly, soaking in their voices.

Then the tone shifted. The cheering crowds faded, the colors dulled. The words fell heavy: Yuna’s pilgrimage was not a journey to glory. It was a march toward her own death, a sacrifice to bring peace.

Zoey’s humming cut off. Mira’s arms tightened across her chest. Both of them froze, staring at the screen with dawning horror.

"Oh no, I forgot about this part," Zoey gasped, guilt sharp in her voice. "I’m so sorry, Rumi."

Rumi tilted her head, blinking at them. Her markings flickered a calm amber. “I am fine,” she chirped softly. "You can keep playing, I want to see how the story ends."

It didn’t matter. In an instant Mira was steadying her shoulder, Zoey tugging her into her lap like she might shatter. Hands fussed at her sleeves, her hair, her face, checking and grounding, making sure she wasn’t trembling. The game blinked out to her disappointment.

Rumi let out a confused trill, then laughed, small and bewildered, as she found herself swaddled between them. “Truly. I am fine.”

They didn’t loosen their hold. Mira’s hand stayed firm on her shoulder, Zoey pressed close with stubborn care. Protective mode, through and through.

Rumi’s markings flickered gold as she sighed, indulgent and fond. “You sillies,” she murmured, nuzzling against them. “I am fine, truly.”

The kitchen smelled of garlic and ginger, warm and sharp. Cooking was her task today. She had decided to experiment.

Rumi picked up the knife, testing its weight carefully. Her markings glowed a calm gold. She was steady, focused.

Mira appeared in the doorway, eyebrows lifted. “Careful, okay?” she said gently, stepping closer.

Rumi chirped lightly, not alarmed, and set her jaw with mock indignation. “I’m just cooking?” she declared, confused.

Mira only arched a brow, smiling faintly. “Of course. I love you and just want to help you.”

Zoey bounced in with a grin and reached for the spice jar. “And I’m the flavor assistant!” she said, sprinkling a bit too enthusiastically.

Rumi blinked, markings flickering soft orange, and tapped Zoey’s hand lightly. “Sure, come help… but wasn’t it my turn to cook?” she asked with a small trill, eyes amused. She added teasingly, “Don’t think this means I have to help you with the dishes.”

Zoey laughed, brushing a hand along Rumi’s arm. “Maybe we just enjoy your company too much.”

Rumi tilted her head, markings flickering pale orange, a faint trill of exasperation escaping her. She sighed, dramatic and long-suffering, though the corners of her mouth twitched despite herself. Her pack was hovering, meddling, ridiculous, and she loved them so much it hurt.

Still, with Mira chopping beside her and Zoey humming at her side, she folded her arms lightly across her chest. It was her kitchen, her task, and somehow she wasn’t really cooking at all.

She frowned, glancing at them with a fond sort of exasperation. Their company was sweet, but it was also a bit much.

Then she huffed lightly and smiled as she started gathering the noodles. She could hardly complain if they wanted to be with her. 

It kept happening in small ways. When she wanted to run, they matched her stride at either side. When she tried to plan an interview, it became a group project.  Even when she was kneeling they checked her, which was fine, but it was routine now, and she knew her limits in that at least. Now they were taking over her talk-show prep, rewriting questions, rearranging schedules, smoothing her work into something no longer hers.

She also understood. Last time she had been triggered, she had gone to Celine willingly and was locked down for weeks. Of course Mira and Zoey were paranoid. She could hardly blame them.

But… was she even the one who had been triggered? She thought back to the moment with the game, to the way their faces had gone pale, the way they had frozen. Maybe it hadn’t been her at all. Maybe it had been them.

Her markings flickered pale orange as the thought turned over in her head. She didn’t feel triggered. She felt smothered.

A groan slipped out before she could stop it.

“Rumi?” Zoey’s voice was soft, careful. She peeked around the doorframe. “You good? I can take over if you don’t feel well.”

“I’m fine,” Rumi said too quickly, too sharp. Her markings flared, and she immediately regretted the snap.

Zoey blinked, startled. Mira’s footsteps followed.

“I need to go see Bobby,” Rumi blurted, gathering her papers.

“I’ll come with you,” Mira offered at once.

“I'll be quick,” Rumi said, already edging past them, quick and light. She slipped out before they could press further, leaving their worried voices calling her name behind her.

Bobby was waiting in the meeting room. He looked up and gave her a small, easy smile. “Only you today?”

Rumi sank into the chair, smoothing her papers against her knees. Her markings flickered a restless amber. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. No words came.

Bobby tilted his head, patient as ever. “That’s a face,” he said softly. “Something on your mind?”

She let out a tiny trill, barely audible. “Nothing, really,” she murmured. Then she hesitated, eyes dropping to her papers. “It’s just… they’re too much sometimes. Too helpful.” Her voice dropped further. “I don’t even know if I should say that.”

Bobby’s mouth quirked, though his eyes stayed gentle. “I’ve noticed. Mira and Zoey hardly let you cross a room without watching. And I’ll admit, I check too. After everything, how could I not?”

Rumi opened her mouth to snap back, but he silenced her gently with a hand and continued.

“I worry about Mira if her family tries to reach out. I worry about Zoey when the online comments get ugly. And with you…” his voice softened, “I worry you’ll carry more than you should.”

Rumi’s markings flickered pale orange. She let out a trill, half sharp, half amused. “You’re not the only one. I watch them too. I worry. All the time.”

Bobby nodded, steady as stone. “Exactly. We all hover. We all keep an eye out. But if it starts to feel too heavy for you, if their care feels like it’s pressing in, you have to tell them. They can’t know otherwise.”

Rumi’s shoulders sagged. She wanted to laugh, but it caught in her throat. “I love them,” she whispered. “I really do. I just… I don’t know how to tell them to stop without sounding ungrateful. I don’t even know if I should.” But I need them to listen… she thought, flicking her gaze to Bobby.

Bobby reached across, his hand warm and grounding over hers. “Rumi, wanting to do something yourself isn’t wrong. It doesn’t mean you love them any less. You just have to say it. Straight and calm. They’ll listen. They want to.”

Her markings softened, a flicker of realization pulsing through. Oh. Maybe it really was that simple. She could ask. She could tell them.

A small trill of relief and amusement slipped free. “Huh,” she murmured. “That simple?”

Bobby chuckled quietly. “Often is. Sometimes we just need a reminder.”

Rumi lingered in the living room, watching Mira and Zoey fuss over the small details of her day. Bobby’s words still spun in her head. She wasn’t afraid of them, never. They were her pack, her partners, the ones who cared so fiercely it sometimes felt overwhelming. But what if telling them hurt them? She loved them too much to want that.

For now, she let them hover, letting their warmth fill the space around her. She tilted her head, markings pulsing soft gold, amused and affectionate, while she tried to find the words.

Then Mira started talking about the talk show. The one Rumi had been planning for weeks, the one that made her heart race with excitement. “So, for the next episode,” Mira said, “we could rearrange the schedule a bit, maybe tweak the interview questions. Just to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

Zoey chimed in eagerly. “Yeah! And I was thinking we could draft some backup topics in case anything unexpected comes up. That way you’re not stressed at all.”

Rumi’s markings flickered pale orange. A flutter of frustration rose, not at them, but at how their care was nudging her excitement aside. This was her project. Her dream.

She took a breath, steadying herself, then looked up at them, calm but firm.

“No. I want to do the talk show myself,” she said, meeting their eyes, marking nervously flickering. “This hovering stops now. I don’t need to be wrapped in bubble wrap, thank you.”

Zoey’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to... I just, I don’t want you hurt.” She grabbed for Rumi’s hand, voice rushing out too fast.

Mira blinked, head tilting. Her mouth pressed into a line. “We were just trying to help,” she said slowly. “You know that, right?”

“I know.” Rumi’s markings glowed steady amber. “And I understand you have a hard time right now. But it’s mine. I need to do it myself.”

For a moment, Mira’s gaze held hers, unreadable. Rumi thought she might argue. Then Mira exhaled, shoulders easing. “…Okay. You’re right. Maybe we went overboard.” She glanced down, quieter now. “Maybe we were more triggered than you were.”

“Exactly,” Rumi said gently. “And that’s okay. But you need to let me say when it’s too much.”

Zoey nodded fast, squeezing her hand. “We can do that. Promise.”

Mira’s lips curved, reluctant but warm. “Bossy,” she muttered, lifting a brow.

“Yes,” Rumi puffed up slightly, markings bright with satisfaction. “Sometimes.”

Zoey laughed, eyes sparkling. “Good. You should be.”

Relief fluttered through her as they gave her space, love still glowing in their eyes. ust like Bobby said, she only had to voice it and they listened.

After the show ended they lay together, limbs entwined, Rumi purring happily, her patterns swirling in gentle contentment.

“You did it,” Mira said, brushing a hand through Rumi’s hair. “Just like I knew you could.”

“Exactly how you wanted,” Zoey added, nuzzling her cheek.

Rumi purred again, glowing soft gold. Independence felt delicious.

“Hey, you want to finish the game?” Zoey asked. “Me and Mira talked, and we think we closed it too soon. You seemed to really enjoy it.”

Rumi kissed her softly. “Only if you’re sure it won’t trigger you.”

Zoey’s smile was steady. “I don't think it will, I am ready now for it. And I’ll tell you if it does.”

Mira tucked herself closer, voice warm. “And if anything feels off for you?”

“I’ll tell you too,” Rumi said, kissing her in turn.

Chapter Text

They were relaxing together, a quiet pause before anything big was planned. Their next single was coming soon, but for now they had given themselves a small creative break.

Rumi hummed happily, kneeling at their feet while they ate supper, a soft purr thrumming in her chest.

Suddenly, Zoey gasped, wide-eyed.

“We have never gone on a date!” she exclaimed in horror.

Rumi blinked up at her from her knees and saw Zoey looking between her and Mira.

Mira only raised a brow. “We literally live together,” she said dryly. “It’s been like ten years.”

“Yes, but we need to do more couple stuff,” Zoey insisted. “Otherwise we’re just roommates who love each other.”

“Isn’t that what a relationship is?” Rumi asked. She gestured to herself kneeling at the table. “And I don’t think this normally happens in a roommate situation.”

Mira chuckled. “Point.”

Zoey leaned in, undeterred. “Nooo, but like, don’t you want to go out? When was the last time either of you actually went on a date?”

“Uuummm…” Mira and Rumi exchanged glances. Rumi wasn’t even sure if she had ever been on one. Did those meetings with Jinu count?

“See?” Zoey said, triumphant.

“You do remember we’re idols,” Mira pointed out. “If we go out, people will notice.”

Rumi nodded. Their fans were usually wonderful and didn’t mind if they were seen outside together, but still she wasn’t sure she was ready for the headlines.

“We can go low key,” Zoey said. “Disguises, minimal attention. And like you said, we’re already always together. I can hold back kissing. Rumi just has to promise to sit in a chair instead of kneeling. We’ll keep it casual.”

Rumi huffed and shifted to a chair to make her point. She always sat on chairs in public, thank you very much. The floor could be filthy. And she wasn’t exactly eager for her more submissive habits to slip out in front of the press.

Zoey’s eyes softened. “So, please?”

Mira hesitated, then gave a small smile. “Okay, I’m in, if you are.” She glanced toward Rumi to make sure she was comfortable.

Rumi felt a little spark of excitement flutter through her chest. The thought of something as simple as a date made her oddly nervous, but it also sounded… nice.

“Yeah, okay,” she said at last. “We can try it.”

They decided the date would be in a few days. Bobby was thrilled and managed to get them a private table in Mira’s favorite restaurant. Mira had wanted to go more often, but the place was well known, and fans could wait there for hours if they caught a hint she might show up. Bobby to the rescue again. It made Rumi smile. Even without date night, maybe they really should try to go out more often. Still, the thought of being seen in public together made her stomach flutter with nerves.

They slipped in through the back door, dressed in modest disguises: hats, sunglasses, loose clothes. The quiet of the service hallway gave way to the soft hum of the dining room as they were led to their table. Once seated, they could relax a little. The staff knew they were there, but they still had to keep their interactions at a friendly level. Luckily Huntr/x was already known for being affectionate, so hand-holding or leaning close would not raise eyebrows.

Zoey leaned across the table, eyes bright. “So here we are,” she squealed. “I can’t believe we are on a date.”

Mira rolled her eyes with a faint smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

Rumi chuckled and took her hand. “This was a good idea, okay.”

“You are known to have those occasionally,” Mira said, lips curving.

Zoey scoffed in mock offense, which only made Rumi’s chest warm. She purred under her breath before catching herself, hiding the sound with a cough. She watched her girlfriends, her packmates, her everything, bathed in the dim light.

“Princess, princess.” Suddenly Zoey’s face was inches from hers. “That was a dreamy look. What were you thinking?”

Rumi flushed and hid her face, her demon markings shimmering faintly against her skin.

The servers arrived just in time to rescue her. The table filled with dishes, warm and fragrant, and Mira’s expression softened as she spotted her favorites lined up neatly before her.

They slipped into easy conversation, full of little jokes and quiet updates. Every so often Mira’s eyes flicked to Rumi, checking on her. Rumi could feel the attention and it only made the warmth in her cheeks deepen.

Zoey grinned at her. “You’re like a string of Christmas lights right now,” she teased. “All sparkly and glowing.”

Rumi gave a helpless laugh and ducked against Mira’s shoulder, patterns flaring. Mira stroked her hair absently, and Rumi leaned into the touch with a soft head bump, too tipsy to stop herself.

She wasn’t much of a drinker, but the gentle buzz slid through her quickly, leaving her loose and smiling, her laughter spilling out easier than usual. She held their hands tighter, humming, her patterns pulsing in warm shades of gold.

When the plates were cleared and the last sips of wine were gone, Zoey leaned forward with a mischievous gleam. “So… want to keep this date going?”

Rumi tilted her head, wary but curious. “How?”

“There’s a club nearby,” Zoey said. “Music, dancing. It doesn’t have to be crowded. Just us, a little fun before we head home.”

Mira raised a brow but she was already smiling. “I suppose one stop won’t hurt.”

Rumi hesitated. She had never really been to a club before, not like this. But with her pack beside her, the happy feelings in her chest only grew stronger.

“Okay,” she purred at last. “Let’s go.”

The club, as promised, was not as full as Rumi had feared. It was loud, the air thick with the tang of sweat and alcohol, but there was also an electric thrill she usually only felt on stage. Clubs weren’t new to her, but always for promotions. Celine had never allowed her to get tipsy or go out casually, too afraid she might slip if her inhibitors were lowered. Mira and Zoey, however, didn’t share those fears. They had brought her here happily, weaving her close between them until they reached the bar.

When the bartender asked for her order, Rumi froze. She had been trained to sip wine and champagne at events and knew the names of a few cocktails, but most of those had been watered-down mocktails or colored liquids. She looked helplessly at her dominants, cheeks warming. She was pretty sure this club didn’t carry any of the carefully vetted wines Celine once approved for her.

“I… I’m not sure what to order,” she confessed softly. “I’ve never… I mean, Celine…” Her voice trailed off. She looked down, shame creeping in at her inexperience.

Strong fingers tipped her chin up. Two pairs of eyes met hers, full of understanding.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Zoey said gently, brushing her hand over Rumi’s shoulder. “Do you want to stay? Or is it too much?”

“No, I want to,” Rumi said quickly. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I just don’t want to cause a scene.”

“Do not worry,” Mira murmured. She pulled her close, hugging her against her side. “We’ll take care of you.”

Mira stroked her hair back, her voice calm and sure. “Now do you want us to go through the choices with you, or would you rather let us decide? I think I know your tastes well enough to guess what you’d enjoy.”

Relief lifted the weight from Rumi’s shoulders. “You make the choice,” she said without hesitation. “I trust you.”

Mira hummed warmly and pressed a kiss to her head. Zoey grinned and poked her nose.

“So nothing too sweet or too strong,” Zoey teased. “I think you might like a Soju Lemonade. Sounds good?”

Rumi nodded. Honestly, she was fine with whatever they picked. If she didn’t like it, the girls would finish it and they’d find something else. A little spark of rebellion twisted in her stomach. She wanted to do all the things she had been denied for so long.

When the drinks arrived, Rumi lifted her glass carefully. It was sweet, but the lemonade made it bright and refreshing. She tried Mira’s and Zoey’s as well, scrunching her nose at the stronger burn in their glasses, which made them both laugh.

Then a good song pulsed through the speakers and Zoey immediately grabbed their hands, tugging them toward the dance floor.

Rumi hesitated. She had been drilled in choreography, polished in traditional dances, but this was neither. There were no clean steps to follow, no audience expecting perfection. Just a crowd moving as they wanted, lights flashing, bass thumping.

Zoey pressed close, swaying with an easy confidence, and Mira’s steady rhythm anchored her on the other side. Rumi let herself follow, at first stiff and uncertain, then looser as the music soaked into her bones. It was so freeing to just move without instruction, to trust her body and flow with Mira’s and Zoey’s rhythm.

They danced for what felt like hours. When a familiar song came on, the three of them threw themselves into the crowd, shouting along until their voices grew hoarse. Rumi giggled, imagining how her vocal coaches would scold her if they heard.

Warm and flushed, Rumi leaned too heavily into their touches, instinctive habits slipping out. Mira and Zoey exchanged a glance, steering her gently toward the exit, but Rumi whined softly and nuzzled Mira’s shoulder in protest.

“Please, just a little longer. This is so fun.” She begged, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. 

Zoey looked at Mira with grin, who sighed in resignation, but before either of them could speak, Rumi grabbed their hands and tugged them down the street with surprising determination.

“Karaoke,” she declared, almost bouncing. “A private room. Just us. Please?”

Zoey broke into a grin, delighted at her sudden boldness. “See? Princess has better ideas than you, Mira.”

Mira shook her head, but her lips curved despite herself. “Fine. One more stop.”

The private karaoke room was small but cozy, padded walls glowing faintly with neon strips. Once they made absolutely sure there were no hidden cameras or peep holes, and that the floor was clean enough, Rumi settled comfortably on her knees.

Zoey arched a brow. “What happened to the chairs, huh?” she teased.

Rumi leaned forward and kissed her quiet. “I’m comfortable, dammit,” she muttered, her patterns flickering with mischief as she leaned forward and bumped her forehead against Zoey’s, purring.

That set the tone.

They sang everything from familiar hits to ridiculous classics. Zoey showed off with her favorite American rap songs, grinning when the other two tried (and failed) to keep up. Mira leaned into the drama, clutching her chest and reaching out with exaggerated passion every time a ballad came on. Rumi critiqued her theatrics with mock seriousness, then joined in, matching Mira’s sweeping gestures until they both collapsed into laughter.

When they tested a few of their own older songs, nostalgia crept in, but the mood stayed light. Without even speaking about it, they skipped anything from Sunlight Sisters. That chapter of the past was not invited tonight.

At one point, Zoey grabbed the mic and performed an over-the-top rendition of some ancient pop song none of them had heard since childhood. Rumi clapped along, her purr rising over the music. Mira harmonized badly on purpose, and soon all three were laughing too hard to finish.

Then Rumi snatched the mic with a wicked grin. “Now,” she declared, “the iconic song that kept the Honmoon alive while we trained.”

The room erupted with the opening beat of Gangnam Style. Her patterns flared as she launched into the song with full commitment, voice rich, hips swaying in that unmistakable dance. Zoey howled with delight and jumped in beside her, mimicking the horse-riding move with wild abandon. Mira buried her face in her hands, but seconds later she was dragged into it too, trying and failing to keep a straight face as the three of them galloped in a circle, shouting the chorus at the top of their lungs.

By the end they were collapsed together on the floor, breathless and sweaty, glowing with laughter.

It was silly, messy, and perfect.

Later, they stumbled back up to their tower together, Rumi a little more lightheaded than her dominants but safe between them, chirping with every other step. Mira and Zoey steered her gently, laughing when she tried to insist she could walk perfectly fine.

In their room, they guided her through the small rituals: makeup off, quick shower, teeth brushed. She purred through the whole process, batting Mira’s hands once when she tried to fuss over her hair, before finally collapsing into bed with a satisfied trill. Zoey pressed a glass of water into her hands, Mira tucking her in with practiced ease.

All three curled up together, laughter spilling into the dark.

“Thank you,” Rumi murmured, glowing faintly as her purr rumbled through the blankets. “So much.”

“Anytime,” Zoey said without hesitation.

“You should have had this sooner,” Mira told her, brushing damp hair from her forehead. “You deserve some normal experiences in your life.”

Zoey hugged them both tight. “I love you guys. And thank you for humoring me tonight.”

Rumi smiled sleepily. “This was… just what we needed.”

Mira pressed a kiss to her hair. “And you were amazing tonight. I love you so much.”

Rumi’s patterns flared bright. She wanted to say it back, but all that came out was a soft mumble as her eyes slipped closed. She fell asleep in their arms, safe and loved, her glow softening to gold.

Chapter Text

They had rules.

Not the kind from Celine’s world. Not harsh or controlling.
Just enough that Rumi felt steady. Enough that she didn’t feel like she would burn.

They were simple, and Rumi had helped create them.

"That’s how it’s supposed to work," Mira had said. These weren’t rules for Rumi alone. They were rules for all of them, agreed on together.

• Everyone needed to eat daily.
• Try to keep a healthy sleep schedule, at least when not on tour.
• Ask for help if needed. (Rumi knew that one was mostly aimed at her.)
• Do not lie to each other.

That last one had made Rumi flinch when they first discussed it, patterns flickering and dimming. But they had soothed her. They had forgiven her. They understood. They loved her.

It was a simple list. Nothing cruel. Nothing she had not already tried to do.

And she had followed it. Even when she slipped, they praised her for trying. There was never a punishment. If she forgot to eat, they made sure she was fed. Sometimes hand-fed, which always made her markings glow faint pink as her cheeks heated. If she worked too hard, they carried her to bed. Sleeping between them could never be a punishment. If anything, it felt like a reward, and she argued that point every time. She insisted it wasn’t fair, that breaking rules shouldn’t earn her something so soft and warm. But no matter how she protested, they only hushed her and held her tighter until she drifted off.

But the lying rule… that one she had taken to heart.

She had lived in lies for too long.

She never wanted to lie to them again.

She really had not meant to be so bad.

It just happened.

Everyone was overworked. The new album was close to release, which meant long hours, scattered schedules, and sleep that only came when inspiration allowed. They were all frayed at the edges.

So she pulled an all-nighter. By accident.

She had meant to go to bed. She really had. But the song would not come together. One more hour, one more line, one more version. Then the sky was pale and Mira was there, giving her a soft morning kiss and asking if Zoey was still asleep.

Mira had just come back from the studio herself, exhausted and heading to bed.

Rumi should have told her. That she had not slept. That she did not know if Zoey had.
But the song still was not finished.

Later, when Zoey woke up and kissed her cheek, asking if she had woken when Mira got home, she should have said the truth.

That she had never gone to sleep at all.

She didn’t.

She should have gone to bed then.

But she didn’t. She kept working.

Zoey made her breakfast, kissed her head, and left it on the desk before heading out.

She should have eaten it.

Instead, it grew cold and unappetizing. She tossed it in the trash, where it landed on top of overflowing pages of crumpled drafts.

When Mira came back later and asked if she had eaten, Rumi nodded and waved her away. She did not stop working.

Her body begged her to. Her hands cramped around the pen, ink smudging as her fingers trembled. Her head throbbed so hard it blurred the edges of the page, a pulse of pain behind her eyes with every heartbeat. Hunger curled in sharp waves through her stomach, twisting until she thought she might be sick, but she ignored it.

She should have stopped before the tears came.

Before the words swam together, the melody that once lived in her head dissolving into static.

Before everything on the desk blurred together and felt wrong.

Before she tore up page after page, muttering that it was useless, that she was useless, that she had no right to think she could write a song in the first place.

Her voice cracked, but the words kept spilling, too fast to stop.

"Maybe Celine and the fans were right. Maybe I’m just some nepo baby wasting everyone’s time. Stupid, stupid…" Her markings pulsed erratically, colors clashing and dimming as her chest heaved.

She was stopped by two strong hands. Mira’s.

"That’s enough," Mira said firmly, steadying her shoulders. "What’s gotten into you?"

"Me," Rumi snapped back, shaking. "I’m completely useless. What else do you expect from a mistake…"

"Don’t say that," Zoey cut in, sliding her arms around Rumi from behind. Her warmth pressed close, anchoring her. "You are not a mistake. You never were. You never will be."

"But…" Rumi tried, her voice crumbling. "I’m so bad," she sobbed, the words breaking free before she could stop them. All the guilt, all the shame. Her patterns dimmed almost non existing.

"I didn’t sleep, and I didn’t eat, and I lied and said I did," she confessed through tears, clinging tightly to Mira's shirt. Her markings flickered weakly, dim with shame.

And you’re clearly struggling,” Mira said, her voice serious but never harsh. “But you kept it all inside instead of asking for help.

Rumi choked on a sob and nodded, barely able to whisper, "Sorry."

"Okay," Zoey said softly, her tone lifting just enough to tease, "so you broke all the rules. That’s got to be a record, right?"

Rumi gave a wet little laugh. "What now?" she asked, her voice small, uncertain.

Zoey kept petting her gently, tucking her close so her face stayed hidden in the curve of her neck. But even through her tears, Rumi could feel the silent conversation happening above her head. Mira and Zoey, deciding something.

Too soon, Zoey kissed the top of her hair and slowly let go. Rumi gave a shaky little chirr, reaching for her, but Mira’s touch steadied her.

"Come here, honey," Mira said, guiding her to the couch.

She led her gently, still holding her hand, then pulled a pillow onto the floor between her legs as she sat down. Her expression was calm, steady, full of quiet authority.

"Stand in front of me."

Rumi obeyed, heart fluttering.

"Kneel, princess."

Her breath caught. Heat rushed to her cheeks, but her body moved before her thoughts did. She folded to her knees on the pillow. It was soft beneath her, grounding, and Mira never let go of her hands. Her gaze held Rumi still, gentle and unshakable.

"You’re going to eat when Zoey brings food," Mira said, her thumbs brushing slowly over Rumi’s knuckles. "Then we’re all going to sleep. Together."

Her fingers traced down Rumi’s arms, and her patterns glowed faintly at the contact, light shifting like embers under her skin.

"While we wait, I want you to hold this." Mira placed a small yarn ball in her hands, one of Zoey’s crochet scraps. Soft, warm, harmless.

"If anything feels like too much, you’ll drop this. And we stop. Immediately. No questions."

Rumi stared down at the yarn, then up at Mira, her throat tight.

"Mira…" her voice cracked.

"You have to promise me," Mira said, eyes locked to hers. "I don’t want to hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself if I ever did."

Rumi swallowed. Her fingers curled around the yarn. She took a breath, then another, before whispering, "I’ll drop it if I need to. I promise, Mira."

Mira’s face softened at once. She squeezed Rumi’s hands, steady and sure.

"Good girl," she murmured.

Rumi’s markings flared pink, and she was very glad she was already on her knees, because her legs would never have held her after that.

"Now," Mira said, brushing her thumb across Rumi’s lips, "since you clearly can’t be trusted with your tongue right now, I’ll be holding it. I don’t want to hear any more lies about my girlfriend."

Her voice was gentle, not scolding, but firm in a way that wrapped around Rumi like a warm blanket.

She paused, eyes steady on Rumi’s. “This is close to your line. You need to tell me if it feels wrong. Do you want to safeword?”

Rumi did not flinch, but she had to take a few calming breaths. Muzzles were a hard limit. For all of them. So was her being silenced in any way.

"Do I have to stay quiet?" she asked, voice small, markings flickering faintly with unease.

"No," Mira said immediately. "Never."

She leaned in, kissed her softly, and the reassurance sank into Rumi’s skin.

“I would never take your voice,” Mira promised. “You can hum, you can pout, you can sing if you want. I’m only holding your tongue because right now you’re using it to hurt yourself. And I can’t let you do that.”

Her words pressed down, not heavy, but grounding.

Rumi still was not sure this counted as a punishment. It did not feel like one. Just… strange. Her doubt must have shown, because Mira’s face softened and she gave a little huff, tapping Rumi’s nose.

"So?" she prompted.

"Okay," Rumi said truthfully after a pause. "I don’t think that would be triggering."

"Good," Mira said, her hand warm on Rumi’s cheek. "But if it is, you drop the yarn immediately. Understood?"

Rumi nodded, then remembered herself.

"Yes, Mira. I understand."

Mira smiled, proud and soft, and Rumi’s markings shimmered faintly brighter at the sight.

"Now open."

Rumi swallowed and opened her mouth, pushing her tongue out. She forced herself to keep it still, to relax, as Mira gently took hold of it.

Yeah… she had been right. This was weird.

Her tongue twitched involuntarily under Mira’s hold. She tried to control it, but it took a while before the tiny, automatic movements eased and she could truly relax into it.

It was embarrassing. Far more intimate than she had expected. Made worse by the way Mira watched her so closely, every flicker of movement caught. Mira could feel every tremble.

Her other hand stroked through Rumi’s hair, steady and soothing. Her voice was a low stream of sweet nothings and praise. Rumi whined, overwhelmed.

Then warmth slid from the corner of her mouth.

She was drooling.

A mortified noise caught in her throat, and her hand twitched around the yarn. She nearly dropped it.

Before panic could take root, Mira calmly reached for a cloth, where she had gotten it, Rumi could not guess, and wiped her mouth clean. The hand left her hair, but the tender way Mira tended her, without judgment or the faintest trace of disgust, settled her more than any words.

Mira’s eyes stayed on her, alert for the smallest sign of distress. Praise threaded through her voice with every swipe of the cloth. She even dabbed at the tears Rumi had not noticed until then.

She did not know how long they stayed like that. At some point Zoey joined them, and Mira finally released her tongue. Rumi was guided to the couch, nestled between them, kissed and petted and praised more than she knew what to do with, so she could only soothingly purr for them.

Her markings glowed faintly under their touch, and for the first time that day, the ache inside her eased. She pushed on their touches, looking for their gentle care.

She tried to choke out string of apologies, but they were silenced with soft kisses and gentle words.

"You’re good," Mira whispered.
"You did so well," Zoey added.
"We love you so much" Mira continued.

Eventually, she found herself back on her knees, this time only to be hand-fed by both of them. They wiped her face between bites, kissed her, and tucked a pillow between their feet for her to kneel on. There was small talk, laughter in soft tones, domestic and warm.

Rumi took a deep breath.

"I’m truly sorry. I just… I need this song to be perfect," she offered quietly.

Zoey gave her a look that was more fond than stern. "Oh, sweetheart. There’s no such thing as perfect. We just do our best and hope it sticks." She tilted her head. "Why is this one even such a big deal?"

Rumi fidgeted with the hem of her shirt for a moment, then sighed.

"It’s the first album we’re releasing with zero influence from Celine," she admitted. "And I’m afraid if it flops… it’ll prove that everything I’ve done, everything I am, was because of her."

Her voice cracked. Her hands trembled, and her markings flickered weakly in dull colors.

"Princess." Mira cupped her face, turning it gently so their eyes met. "You are so much more than her. More than she could ever dream of being. What makes you think your success belongs to her?"

"Yeah," Zoey added, sliding in close. "Maybe she gave us a platform, but we built Huntr/x. You put in the work for your performance. The fans love us because of who we are now, not because of what she did."

She touched her forehead gently to Rumi’s. "They love you, Rumi. And they’re going to love this too."

Rumi’s markings warmed to a soft glow under their touch. She was really getting tired of crying, but being comforted by her favorite people, safe and wrapped in warmth, wasn’t such a bad way to end the day.

They did not need to be so smug about it.

But they were, because the fans absolutely loved the song. Her song. Number one on the charts.

"We told you," Zoey giggled, scrolling through the leaderboard. "You’re perfect."

"I thought there was no such thing as perfect," Rumi shot back, right before she took off running as Zoey lunged at her.

She might have gotten away if Mira had not ambushed her around the corner.

"You traitor!" Rumi shrieked, only to collapse into helpless laughter as Mira tackled her to the floor and Zoey joined in, tickling her mercilessly.

Later, breathless and tangled together, laughter still buzzing in the air, Rumi purring let her eyes drift closed. Her markings shimmered in bright, dancing colors before settling into a warm glow.

This right here was perfect.

Chapter Text