Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Are you made of body or of soul?

Waiting for your beast to lose control?

 

Rumi’s life thus far has maintained a steady requirement of three things: structure, balance, and order. 

It’s what made her a good leader both for her team and her idol group — though truly no different from one another, simply having dual purposes  

The control she kept was threatened and tampered with when Gwi-Ma decided to up his game and Celine’s promise was so easily dusted away from Rumi’s goals.

She rallied her strength to keep that fragile secret — but Jinu and the Idol Awards tampered with her structured routine and  stole away her carefully curated chameleon skin, leaving her more exposed than she’s ever been. 

Rumi relied on having a purpose, having structure, having guidance. It was Celine who kept that structure together with bolts and screws — but now she was down to duct tape and zip ties.

Celine had been radio silent after they released their new advertisement photos; the ones with Rumi finally looking like she belonged on the billboards, with her girls wrapped around her protectively. 

With those markings no longer hidden.

Rumi pretends that that is why there’s been no communication — but the true reason is darker. A type of dark that only happens when a surrogate daughter asks her surrogate mother to end her life. 

Rumi was fine, really she was. 

Until she wasn’t. 

Mira was on her left while Zoey took up her right, forming a close barrier between Rumi and the outside exposure she knew was waiting for her. 

The interview had been set up almost immediately after the Idol Awards were over, with Sunlight Entertainment ensuring the first spots for top media companies. 

It was only a couple of weeks after going to the bathhouse with Mira and Zoey, who were ecstatic at her timid offer, and while they were technically on a hiatus that didn’t forgo their pre-set agreements. They would have to knock out a few things before they could truly become one with the Couch. 

What’s worse: they had to fly all the way to New York City to do it. They’d finished their interviews in Seoul and now it was American news that called their attention. They had a large following in the United States, so catering to that audience was second to catering to their Korean ones. 

Jet-lagged and already homesick, HUNTR/X sat down with the hosts of Good Morning America [ who were far too chipper, even for Zoey ] and the live audience who were eager to eat every word they spoke. 

Rumi wished they could have waited to be on tour before doing this interview. It was out of normal routine, it was out of their way, and it took away time with her girls.

Zoey and Mira had teamed up excellently to smooth out any creases in the plan. Zoey came up with things to do to keep them busy after their interview for two days before their flight back home.

Mira, however, actually made up the itinerary once all three women could agree to the things to do on Zoey’s giant list. 

Rumi lost her routine, but she still had structure. The loss of one wouldn’t be the downfall of her frazzled nerves. 

“Rumi,” the male host said, grabbing her attention. She was so stuck in her head that she missed their own announcements. Her legs had carried her to the couch, had settled her between Mira and Zoey like she always did. “Thank you for agreeing to sit down with us! It’s an honor to meet the Huntrix girls face to face!”

“Thank you so much for having us,” the leader returned, uncurling her tongue and locking her brain into the hosts. Her English wasn’t terrible, but she needed to concentrate to ensure that she wasn’t slipping back into Korean or fumbling her sentences. 

Part of her routine when she was younger was English tutoring, Celine keeping a sharp eye on even the smallest inconsistencies of her pronunciation between sessions.  

She had Mira — who was only a little better than she was at English — and Zoey — who’s native at the language — to help when they sensed she was going to stutter. 

“Let me first start off by saying 'wow'," the host began, crossing one striped-pant leg over the over. "That performance at the Idol Awards? It was stunning."

The audience broke into agreeing applause before Rumi could formulate a response. She was grateful, in a way, that it extended her response time so she could shoot out a grateful jumble of words.

When the clapping died down, Rumi glanced at her girls. Mira had a small smile tugging the corners of her mouth while her hands remained neatly folded on her lap. She exuded the perfect level of humble distance while also having the vibe that she was aware of the amount of praise being sent her way. Zoey was beaming like the sunshine she was, her cheeks tinted pink as she brought her multi-ringed fingers to her face as though bashful. 

"We put our all into that show," the purplette said honestly after the crowd had hushed back down. It was true -- but nobody knew just how deep their all went. What their songs and concerts were intended for, why they were the perfect picture of modern fame and art. "Every detail was added with intention."

"I've seen some of the breakdown videos our fans do during our sets," Zoey added, smoothing the transition to herself without breaking her character, "Some of them are like . . . really good. We sometimes like to write a story to go with our shows, and it's really fun to see how our fans -- and our critics -- decipher them. It means that they feel something from what we give, and that is what Huntrix was made for!"

The host leaned forward with a sharp gleam in his eye. "Do you have any official scripts or lyric notes that you can share with us? Perhaps an idea of what story you're going for?"

Zoey tilted her head. "Oh, I totally would if I could! But I think Rumi would be very upset if I did.” The maknae pouted playfully, sending a faux sorrowful glance her leader’s way. Rumi pretended to be playfully annoyed, eyes rolling.

Through the shifting laughter, Zoey continues, “Part of the entertainment is telling the story through each song, each album, each show we have. It's not meant to simply be explained outright because otherwise, there would be no parts in our tale that left people feeling the things we seek to have them feel through the music. They wouldn’t get the climax, the rush of hope in the middle of the story. Our albums all have something to say, down to each song within them. Not allowing people to realize it within themselves would deprive them of what it means to figure out what that means — because it’s never the same for each person."

Rumi wanted to hug Zoey and never let go. The American put a little piece of her soul into each song to ensure it went out into the world with the intention of making someone feel less alone. 

Rumi was not exempt from how her lyrics made her feel — even after years of exposure and working on those songs together. Rumi sometimes believed she felt it the most  

Zoey caught her staring and let a hand drift to wrap around hers on her lap. Supportive in nature but holding a heavier meaning that only she and Mira knew how to read, always in tune to Rumi and knowing what she needed.

In the meantime, their third took over.

Mira leaned back like a lazy lioness that knows she’s the only true threat in ant least ten miles. Her arms stretched back leisurely against the leather, slinking one over the back behind Rumi. "Zoey's right, but I say it in less words than our lyricist,” she says rather fondly, dark red lips twitching upward. “I do the same things in my choreography. I study what we write, draft up a visual to go with it, and practice and revise until we have a picture to help the story along. We like to give our audience a structured narrative but leave enough open. Revealing anything else would make what we do less interesting.”

Clapping broke out again with an obvious approval reverberating across the stands. Zoey and Mira had smoothly and perfectly delivered their finely tuned answers to this expected question and it was eaten up so the out fail.

"Well, I suppose I tried!" the host made sure to throw  a dramatic, exasperated glance at the cameras before sliding back into his role. "My next question is about Takedown directly after Golden. How was the experience shifting from a lighter, free style of preforming to a darker one that contradicts what Huntrix usually releases in terms of music? Is it meant to be the twin of Golden that expresses what occurs in the psyche when we're at our worst?"

Rumi's breath stuttered and while she had been warned, mainly by Celine despite the intense attempts to prevent it, that questions about that part in their performance may be slipped in last second. That was a common occurrence when going on talk shows like this, even in Korea. Media found a way to tell someone what their planned line of questioning was and then add another, sudden question into the mix to catch their interviewee off guard. Rumi had been prepped on most of the interview's focus with an underlying warning that a stunt such as this could and would be pulled.

Yet, Rumi did not think any amount of preparation could have prevented the response that was forcefully dragged out of her.

Rumi was a bred and reared apex predator. Hunters and demons, demons and hunters: the two predators at the top of the food chain. A structure as old as time with rules to follow.

Rumi was a hybrid of the two; lethal, unknown, an outlier.

Her fingernails started prickling with that itching burn when she got anxious. Her patterns suddenly felt too heavy on her skin, like brands that kept her soul from breaking apart her ribcage.

Rumi was never meant to have a prey mindset, not with her breeding. Not with her careful upbringing. 

But what is one to do when they realize there’s a threat that can’t be handled in the way they’re supposed to? What is Rumi to do when her head empties and that undeniable fear dominates her predator senses?

Well . . . A cornered animal with no options has been known to bite. 

“. . . was a last second addition,” Mira was saying through the rushing blood in Rumi’s ears. Everything was too much and not enough. 

Her fingernails, they tingled painfully —

Soft, grounding sensations over the arches of her knuckles. Ringed, human, warmth. Zoey, an anchor that knew a drifting ship. 

“Takedown is not going to be a song we revisit much, if at all,” the third member added as she kept tracing along Rumi’s fingers. “We decided after the Awards show that it wouldn’t be added to our roster in performances. It’s not meant to be apart of the story we want to dwell on, you know? That was the point of What It Sounds Like — sort of like an appetizer for our main course.”

Mira had shifted closer until their legs were brushing. She crossed one leg primly over the other and intentionally rested the heel of her shoe against Rumi’s stiff ankle. 

An assurance in as much as Mira could offer right now. 

Rumi focused on the feeling of Zoey and Mira’s touch, “What It Sounds Like will continue to be in our concerts since we worked really hard on it, and it’s part of our new album that finishes one of our ‘stories’,” she added, taking back over, trying to regain some control. 

Rumi was returning to herself, but she was unsettled for the rest of the interview underneath the finely crafted mask. 

Are you holding on or letting go?

You tried to hide it, but you know

you can’t run from yourself 

This panic attack was worse than her last. It had Rumi sliding down against the door and onto the cold bathroom floor, clawed hand around her neck as if to tear apart an invisible force that prevented her airways. 

She’d kept herself together for as long as it took to make the elevator ride up into their presidential suite that overlooked Central Park and the bustling city. 

She had made an excuse of needing to change, but the minute the door closed to her bedroom and then the bathroom attached, she was unable to contain anything. 

She fumbled to rip off the designer jacket, the frantic jerking of expensive leather and fabric whispering and groaning like a complaint as she ripped it off and tossed it across the bathroom floor. 

Cool air replaced the warmth held into her skin, brushing against sensitive patterns and drying the dampness that had began to form. 

She wrapped her arms around herself, pretending it was Mira, Zoey, or even Celine holding onto her so tightly that she didn’t float away into dark space. 

Her sleeveless crop top was sticking to her torso, sinking into into her back—

It ripped right down the middle in the process of trying to get it off, now pieces of discarded fabric that gave way to her fumbling.

A bra and her leather pants were all that remained but by then she’d been shaking so much that she was ripping the leather and breaking buttons off.

A guttural sob broke out of her as she curled up, shaking furiously.

She had been handling things so well. She’d been so good, had stuck to her schedule and didn’t stray from what she considered normal.

But that interview had derailed her entire need for consistency and now she was on a downward path. 

She should call Celine, her eomeoni, to talk her down and make things right again. 

She should — but she didn’t have her phone. She left it with Mira and Zoey because, “You’re looking at Idol Awards conspiracy theories again,” Zoey speculated back in the green room, hand held out expectantly. 

Rumi couldn’t prove her wrong so she closed the app and handed her phone over. 

“Good girl,” Zoey praised, a laugh in her smile as she slid it into her go back next to hers. 

Rumi did not preen when Zoey's delivery hit her innermost mind. She didn’t. 

Hours ago she’d been nervously excited about the day because she had Mira and Zoey and nothing felt unsure.

Now she was trying to keep her broken parts whole in this luxury bathroom. 

She has a vague recollection of stumbling into the shower and fiddling with the handles until hot water was produced at its highest temperature. 

Rumi hadn’t so much as registered noise beyond the bullets of now-cold water grazing across tile and skin. If she had, she’d known her girls had finished cleaning themselves up and crashing through the bedroom door looking for her.

If Rumi could feel her fingertips, could hear anything beyond the low buzz in her ear canals, could taste anything beyond the blood staining her tongue from biting into her cheek — she’d know her girls were starting to get anxious.

As light as a feather but holding strong meaning, a knock — once, twice — rapped across the wooden door keeping her from sight.

“Rumi?”

Something carnal triggered the smallest of reactivity within the half-demon. Her gaze focused on the door, bleary and fogged up through the glass shower doors.  

They would refuse go away if she didn’t acknowledge their looming outside of this cage she’d made for herself. 

“Rumi.” Zoey’s soft voice crawled through the crevices until they reached her, concern and question buried in like a gift. “We waited for you to order room service but we . . . haven’t heard a peep. It’s been a while. Do you want us to order you something?”

Lifting her head was effort and it was not because of how heavy her hair became when completely wet. Her chin brushed against her naked knees and she did her best to ignore the buzzing ripples that coursed through her whenever her emotions leaked into her patterns like an oil-spill overtaking a water source.

The door handle gave way to easily when one of them -- likely Mira based on the intensity -- tested it, but the barrier between them remained. It wasn't locked but neither of her team-mates yet opened the one thing keeping them from her.

"We need a verbal response, Rums." Mira's low voice sounded closer now, almost like she had her face pressed to the door. Rumi tried not to let the image linger or else she'd break into laughter, and if she started to laugh she'd cry. "You promised, remember?"

The tips of her fangs brushed just so over the tops of her knees, arms tightening her legs even closer to herself to keep herself in a somewhat safe cocoon -- or to entrap herself. Whatever she was feeling, it was meant to contain. Containment kept her in line, it kept her on a right path that kept her instincts intact.

"Rumi."

Everything else emptied from her brain the moment Mira's tone lowered an octave and filled with a dark, firm thing. It made the lead singer want to untangle herself and crawl to the door in hopes that just being at Zoey and Mira's feet would mean repent and make them soft. 

". . ." The noise was just a tick over normal hearing range and made up of only what she could offer. Words were not Rumi's friends right now and thus she relied on the hope that one or both of them heard and interpreted the meaning.

For a long moment she believed they had left her, satisfied she was alive at the very least. As much as it downed her, she had no expectations that they'd see through it. That they'd . . . understand what she wasn't able to tell them.

But a soft click followed by the door slowly opening proved her wrong. It was quiet other than the shower running, but soon Zoey's soft noise of distress added to it. Rumi wondered how she appeared through their eyes; curled up behind the glass and shaking like a leaf despite attempts to quell it.

A dark ripple of black slid along Rumi's patterns. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Zoey breathed as she peered behind Mira’s arm. “Mira—“

”On it,” the pink-haired hunter said, tight and teeth grit as she turned toward the dark wood cabinets to find neatly folded towels.

Rumi watched as Zoey took large strides in her direction, her figure becoming more clear as she approached the glass. Her glittery nails settled on the towel bar attached to one of the sliding doors.

Pushed it open and stepped inside without so much as undressing, the smell of her shampoo in her still-damp hair and lotion filling the space enclosing them. Zoey's shirt darkened with the cold water as the American reached over and shut off the water before crouching in front of Rumi. "The water was freezing," she said softly, hands halfway lifted toward Rumi as though she did not know what to do with them.

Rumi didn't reply. Her shoulders sank closer against the shower tile in what could be mistaken for as relief.

"Rums." Zoey didn't think as one of her hands, warm and soft, found home along Rumi's thigh and the other atop her hand that clenched her knees together. 

The touch was enough. Rumi's eyes locked in and her reality snapped back into place. She couldn't feel, couldn't sense anything else. Just Zoey.

"There you are, pretty girl," Zoey murmured, increasing the pressure just so. "Mira's got towels. And a robe." She glanced behind her.

Mira did, indeed, procure the promised items. She dutifully passed the towels to Zoey, who had to remove her weight from Rumi in order to unfold one of the towels and begin to drape them across her shoulders. "Can you stand up? Let us get the other towel around you?" Zoey murmurs.

Rumi swallowed. Nodded once, and with Zoey's steady hand pushed herself up onto cold-numb feet, keeping the towel tightly wrapped to protect herself.

"Rumi, I know . . . I know you're fragile right now," Mira began carefully, slowly, as she watched Zoey guide their leader out of the shower and onto the plush rug in front of the doors, "but can you let us take care of you? You . . ."

Rumi's eyes flickered like starlight when they moved to the pink-haired woman. Mira couldn't finish her sentence, but her body language was firm and sure-footed. 

Rumi inclined her chin, closing her eyes and submitting to the unfinished request without saying a single word.

She supposed that is how she found herself sitting in front of the vanity only minutes later, long fingers detangling even longer tresses of hair and parting it into three sections.

She knew her patterns were speaking in place of Rumi herself: she could feel it every time a new color replaced another on her skin, leaving her too exposed no matter how comfortable she thought she was having them on display.

Zoey sat on the counter to her left, legs swinging as she rubbed lotion into Rumi's skin. Rumi appreciated the warmth -- the cold had creeped back up on her once she was returning to herself and left her with an ache she didn't think was possible. "Your patterns turned black."

Mira's fingers paused briefly, buried into her scalp as something unsaid but loud occurred between the two. It did not last long, though, soon returning to scritching and braiding.

"Have you had that color yet?" Zoey prodded, gently, as she rubbed excess cream into the webbing of her fingers. "We haven't seen it before."

Rumi hadn't either, even this amount of anxiety and self-isolation hadn't drawn out the inky shade until today.

"Baby," the maknae called, applying pressure to the spot she'd been tenderly rubbing. "Can you try words? Please?"

Rumi's heart stuttered and her eyes widened at Zoey, who only exuded warmth and safety despite the small output of dominance. 

"Just try," she added, softening her tone.

Rumi breathed in, looked at herself in the mirror. Her patterns had stopped shining, returned to their almost dormant iridescent state.

"New," she confessed, tilting her head down away from her reflection. Mira reached her arm over her shoulder to tilt her chin back up and their gazes met in the mirror.

"Head up for me," was all Mira said with simplicity and a hint of command, promptly breaking the gaze and refocusing on her braid.

"Did they cause pain?" Zoey asked, shifting so she was in Rumi's direct line of sight. "If they did--"

"No pain," she was quick to reassure, noting the concern. "They . . . They made me feel different though."

"Elaborate?" her freckled nose wrinkled in thought. "Please."

Zoey allowed Rumi to find a good way to do so, smiling slightly at her unnie's squinting features, lips quirked tight as she sought the right words.

"When my patterns flare they usually . . . they feel like physical embodiment of my emotions," Rumi started cautiously. "It's something I've been noticing lately as I get more used to it."

Mira snagged a knot and took Rumi's neck back with her. It wasn't a harsh pull but she still was quick to apologize under her breath and grow gentler in her work.

"The purple ones that you noticed the first time were suffocating and felt like a mirror," she continued, the memory of their glowing fresh in her mind, "every time they lit up more, the emotions with them: shame, panic, hopelessness -- it all sort of kept feeding into itself like a self-sufficient machine. It only needed those specific emotions to keep it fed and they died down when something more powerful broke that cycle and brought me back to myself."

Zoey had a notable drop in her face as she spoke, eyes glistening. She seemed ready to say something, but Rumi didn't let her, "The gold . . . we came to the conclusion it's happy, right?"

They both knew what she was referring to: Zoey's adamant tracking of Rumi's colors and their meanings depending on how she feels or what she did when it started.

Zoey attempted a smile, "I -- the journal annotating your patterns seems to conclude that gold is good, yeah. Um," she wiped her eyes and covered her mouth as if afraid of cracking, "I noticed that it flares up the most and for longer periods of time when you're with Mira and I, with no other factors that correlate. Or when we cuddle. Or --" She stopped when she caught Mira's eye and the small shake of her head. "Yeah, gold is happy and content."

Rumi could have listened to Zoey go on about her version of scientific study in demons [ or Demon Rumi in particular ], but she understood that it wasn't important right now. 

"When I glow gold, I guess, it's like walking around in a constant warm hug. It gives me strength and I feel like I've been given an immediate dose of dopamine. It's addictive."

Mira hummed above her, nearing the end of her hair as she tightened the braid.

"I haven't experienced a whole lot more--"

"Not true," Mira shot back, an intentional tug to the end of the freshly made braid scolding her, "When I kicked your ass in Mario Kart you turned bright red. It was brief."

Zoey nodded. "It also happened when one of our PR Agents tried to release an Instagram announcement about our New York trip on your account before we were ready for it."

Rumi bit the inside of her cheek. So they were even more observant than she realized. She knew they would watch her sometimes, inquire about how she was feeling more than they did before the Idol Awards . . . but it went even deeper than she thought.

"Anger, probably," Rumi finally replied, "or frustration. Those burn and have me reeling when I've calmed down, because I'm not normally . . . I don't like reacting to things when I'm angry. I don't like how it makes me feel."

"Everyone gets angry," Mira told her, tying off the end of her braid and appearing on her left side, arms crossed. 

"It's not the actual anger that throws me off." Rumi drew her braid over her shoulder and played with the strands beneath the tie, needing busy hands. "It's -- these patterns make me feel more. Jinu once said that all demons do is feel."

Mira narrowed her eyes at the mention of Jinu, but remained quiet. Zoey simply rests her chin along her fist, elbow digging into her leg.

"He was right." Rumi dropped her braid and looked at the markings that decorated the backs of her hands. "When I feel something, like, Big Feelings, it shows. It doesn't come quietly and it doesn't go quietly, either. The anger that comes is not an experience I want to give into. It makes me foggy and on-edge like I'm prepping for a fight. I never feel as much adrenaline than I do when I'm angry enough to cause a flareup, and the red patterns are the closest that come to actually bordering on pain. It's like being struck with a spear cursed with rage and hatred. The comedown of that is exhausting because I fight those flareups the hardest."

Zoey's face cleared, clarity settling. "It makes you want to be violent."

Rumi's lips thinned, the only confirmation she will ever give. 

"Green?" Mira asked, hip notching against the counter.

Zoey shot up. "I know this one! She turns green when she's jealous."

Horror crawled up her spine, leaving her spluttering, "You -- I do not!"

"Your face betrays you."

Rumi's jaw dropped and suddenly things did not seem so heavy. Not when Mira's smug grin and Zoey's excited banter seemed to lift the atmosphere.

"I have evidence!" Zoey insisted, catching the reaction Rumi was giving to the accusation, "Undeniable proof!"

"How?" Rumi asked, desperate and embarrassed. "I am -- I do not turn green with envy!"

Zoey fought the urge to race to her own room to grab her notebook. "Actually--"

"Askually," Mira mocked, finger pointing up.

Zoey ignored her as she points instead at Rumi. "I remember one very unforgettable time it happened. We were speaking with our fans that day. One of them asked if I had dated Baby--"

The snarl left her lips before she could stop it. Zoey and Mira's gazes flew over to her instantly, just as Rumi's hands slapped sharply across her mouth in shock. She hoped she looked as horrified as she felt. It was so sudden, but --

"Did you just--" Mira seemed amused more than anything through her surprise, "--growl at Zoey?"

Rumi squeaked behind her palms, turning her eyes to the side so as not to have to look at them. Her face was burning and the tips of her ears were no better. But she did not know if the blushing was due to her actions she couldn't control, or the way Zoey and Mira stared.

She didn't have time to consider either outcome, because Zoey drew her attention with laughter. She leaned in close to the half-demon with something akin to teasing making Rumi feel small under her watch.

"I don't mind, I think she's pretty embarrassed, right Mira?" Zoey muses as she takes in the sight.

Mira quirked an eyebrow. Studied Rumi, then shrugged like this was not her fight.

Zoey struck, her glittery nails pointedly coming to rest just under her neck without actually taking hold. "As cute as your face is, pretty girl, if you growl at me again I will muzzle you."

Rumi could die right now.

Mira smirked, unwilling to swoop to her rescue.

"Am I understood?" Zoey murmurs, sharp nail tracing along her trachea. Testing, pushing, possessing. 

Rumi could only make a noise she hoped Zoey would be satisfied with, throwing a shaky nod in for good measure.

Zoey dropped her hold on the leader, easing back and swinging her legs again. "So . . . what was the black pattern?"

Mira released a soft breath, eyes sparkling with mirth at the quickness in Zoey's switchup. Poor Rumi was getting whiplash.

Rumi lowered her hands back into her lap. "I . . . don't know," she admitted. "It was oily and slick, though. It felt dirty and . . . and it left me feeling dirty."

"But it's not hurting you?" Zoey asked even if she had already been told that it hadn't.

"Not physically."

Both women seemed slightly dissatisfied with that answer, but Rumi was going to be honest in where she could. She figured that they will take her answer as somewhat truthful but also considerably more complicated than that. 

Based on the way the two were processing and gazing at one another again, Rumi concluded that this was indeed the case.

She started to try and explain it more in depth, but a sigh escaped Mira and silenced her.

Mira unfolded her arms and flattened her palms into the countertop behind her, a picture of feline grace she was always perfect at. Zoey was nibbling her lip but didn't seem to want to push the subject at this exact moment, either.

"Okay," was all Mira said.

"Okay?"

"Okay," she reaffirmed. "We can . . . we can go over it more later. See what emotion you felt so strongly to trigger the patterns to react like this." She pushes off the counter at the same time as Zoey slid to her feet. "But right now I'd really like to get you relaxed and fed. We have takeout menus and room service, whichever you're wanting to indulge in. It's your turn to choose anyways."

Zoey wiggled her fingers in front of Rumi like she did not just have them around her neck. "Your Majesty," Zoey croons lightly, drawing her bubbly personality to occupy her unnie's mind. 

Rumi's lips curved upward as she took the offered hand, getting to her feet and allowing Zoey to lead her into her bedroom where it looks as though both of her girls had prepped for a sleepover. Lights dimmed, water bottles filled and set up next to the bed, phones piled near the pillows and a handful of menus waiting for use at the edge, strewn as if they'd been abandoned.

They'd readied her room with purpose and the powerful rush of affection stopped Rumi dead on the plush carpet. She took everything in and found Mira unzipping her bag to pull out Rumi's sweats.

"I need a shirt," Rumi told Mira wetly when the suitcase was zipped close.

Mira led her gaze to the hoodie. The hoodie. It initially started as Mira's when they first met in training but over the years it floated between all three girls, hung up in different closets and worn so many times that their scents mingled together even after each wash. It meant something when it was worn -- it was a comfort request that told the other two not wearing it what was needed from them.

Rumi had worn it so much before her patterns became too obvious. 

This is the first time she's seen it in a year, not allowing herself to wear it in order to keep her girls from getting too close. From answering the call that the hoodie sent out when used.

"Me?" Rumi murmured through tears she couldn't fight.

Zoey was on her phone, her tongue caught between her teeth as she sprawled across the giant bed and glowing with the city nightlife filtering through the windows.

Mira handed both articles of clothing, folded neatly and smelling like home, into trembling hands. "You."

Do you dream of heaven or dream of hell?

(You can't run from yourself)

Something shifted that night between the three of them curled up under the expensive hotel sheets and watching a documentary about chameleons that Zoey picked out.

"You're just like them, Ru," Zoey whispered in her ear, arms keeping her pressed against her front as they lay sideways. Mira was laying near their heads, legs crossed. "They wear their feelings on their skin and know how to keep predators from spotting them."

Rumi remained captivated by the rolling eyes and slow movements of the animal on the screen, wondering if Zoey thought she was slow and dumb. But she thinks she begins to understand more what Zoey meant when a beautiful pitch black jaguar lay across the branch and gazing in it's direction with sharp eyes that reminded Rumi of Mira in a strikingly accurate way, and then creeps off screen without having seen the potential snack it could have had.

A hand found it's way to Rumi's hair again, not undoing the design but scratching the area above her ears.

"Adaptable and hardy," Zoey declared, nuzzling deeper with her nose into the crook of Rumi's neck. "Just like our Rumi."

It started slowly -- so much so that even Rumi, now keen in her surroundings and more heightened in senses than even Zoey and Mira with their Hunter abilities, did not notice.

The flight back to Seoul is when it seemed to begin.

The airport was noisy and tense for everybody who needed to travel. The three of them were conditioned and now used to dealing with large groups of people, but Rumi couldn't seem to differentiate a crowd that held no threat and one that did. It was too early for any of them -- even Rumi, who found solace in the dawn of the day. Instead she was quiet and distant, lingering nearby as Zoey and Mira waited in the large line at a stall that sold an American brand of coffee they only ever get while in the States. She was meant to be guarding their carry-ons but she makes a piss-poor watchdog at the moment, gazing at nothing in particular, fingers loosely holding Zoey's colorful backpack that had turtle keychains and witty buttons attached. Mira's leather tote leaned against her ankle, overstuffed just like the other bags were.

It was four in the morning and they were two hours early for their flight. Normally they'd take the HUNTR/X jet but Zoey wanted to safe fuel and the environment by taking a normal flight in first class.

She was glad that, so far, either people did not recognize her or left her alone. Being approached right now, without caffeine or her girls, would lead to Rumi's panic.

"You stayed where we left you," Mira drawls as she approaches with two large drinks, looking more awake than Zoey, who'd be content to sleep in for the rest of her life.

"Bag duty." Rumi lifted Zoey's backpack to declare her truths.

Mira grins at her, ensuring nobody was around before leaning in and pressing a kiss just below her temple. "Good girl."

Took Zoey's bag from her now-loose grasp and replaced it with a caffeinated drink of some sort. She watched Mira's muscles flex as she flung the bag over her  shoulder with one strap and her tote on the other. Zoey flung her free arm around Rumi's shoulders, extra weight on her own backpack and pushing her forward through bleary eyes. "Lessgo," she mumbled.

They chose a seating option that allowed all of them to remain close, and thankfully first class was blissfully empty. Likely bought out by Sunlight Entertainment to keep them in a semblance of privacy.

It was a relief, because almost instantly Mira tugged Rumi into her section and put her hands below The Hoodie that she chose to wore again. Her hands were just as calloused as Rumi's and Zoey's but Rumi didn't care. She leaned into the beckoning touch until she sank straight into the dancer's lap, warmth and exhaustion mixing around them until Rumi was puddled.

Zoey sat in the plush chair across the table, smiling sleepily at the two and leaning across to intertwine her pinky with Mira's. 

"Sleep now," Mira murmured, burying her face into the top of Rumi's head, "We'll be here when you wake up."

Rumi was already gone.

It stayed small and casual at first, like that time on the plane and in the airport. Mira refilled Rumi's water often during their workouts even when Rumi didn't ask her to. Zoey seemed to include her more aggressively in her livestreams with the fans, even if all Rumi did was lay with the stuffed animals [ and Sussie, who blended in perfectly ] and nap or read.

And then they started checking in around the same times every day -- first in the morning after waking up:

Rumi would awake early like she usually did, and sometimes Mira would be in the kitchen making breakfast already. "How did you sleep? Juice or tea with your breakfast?"

Questions about what Sunlight needed her for that day. Hums of acknowledgement if she was busy, or suggestions on what they could do together later if she had nothing to attend to.

"We could go to Starfield Library again," "We should go see a movie. When was the last time we actually did that in theaters?" "I'm tired of training, let's find something in the city to do."

Whatever it was that was suggested, Rumi was agreeable to most of the plans Mira and Zoey made for the three of them.

Around lunch times, Rumi would find her phone bombarded, "Did you eat?" "show me ur water intake or ur a loser hahahaha." "Anxiety levels 1-10?"

Rumi learned to not ignore those messages. She got scolded very firmly while Zoey lounged on the Couch with a raised brow.

And so it went.

It came to a stand still one evening when Zoey and Mira were scheduled to be recorded for a commercial. Rumi's part had been completed and the scene with all three of them was to be done at a later date, so Rumi was alone. She pushed around the food that Mira had made and set aside for Rumi when she returned from training, watched the city nightlife from her balcony as Derpy dozed at her feet, and then --

-- somehow ended up in her bed, hand down her leggings, fingers in her cunt, as she bit and tore into the blankets beneath her body as she ground against her fingers, breasts sensitive from brushing across the mattress. It was a furious attempt at fucking herself, needing to reach a piece of herself she often couldn't even touch. She had to try, she was so wound up.

A gasp left her, fang snagging into the drool-soaked blanket. Her arousal had come in a sudden burst with no warning. The lack of company, nothing she needed to see to, it allowed her mind to wander. 

All the good girls in the last month, the buildup of touches that lingered but never for long enough, of the scents that she knew to be Mira and Zoey.

She turned her head and whined as her fingertips finally brushed up against her g-spot for the first time. She could see the spark, the feeling she needed like she needed air. She was so close --

"Stop. Right now."

Rumi's entire body locked up in tandem with the low, darkened tone from the now open door. The orgasm crashed into her so painfully that the shock of seeing Mira and Zoey in her doorway mattered way too little as she chased that high, mouth opening in a messy moan, curling her form around her fingers in attempt to keep brushing that spot.

Her hair was snatched into a fist, her body unravelling as she was forced upward. The grip wasn't meant to cause pain, but to grab Rumi's focus. Mira pulled her close as Zoey circled not far behind. 

Rumi was lost in the haze of her post-orgasm bliss, shakily removing her fingers a little too late as she was arranged onto her back, Mira releasing her hair to instead push down on her chest while Zoey settled for stroking her inflamed cheeks.

"You couldn't control yourself," the dancer noted, taking hold of the hand covered in Rumi's slick. She lifted it to gaze at it in the moonlight of Seoul, lips twitching.

"Look at her, Mira. She's confused and she looks like she just experienced heaven. Don't be mean," Zoey retorted, smiling but with a hidden meaning applied. 

"I told her to stop."

"And she did." Zoey moved lower, stroking just below the curve of her breasts. "Hot pink."

Rumi's mind was a mess and trying to translate Zoey's statement was not possible.

Mira kept Rumi entranced as she brought her fingers up to her mouth, and licked the slick and taste of Rumi clean.

Rumi's face was buried in her hands, knees up to her chest, patterns a soft yellow [ not gold, as Zoey noted when they hauled her into the living room ].

Zoey pressed her cartoonish turtle mug into Rumi's hands, keeping the plain one for herself as she sat a bit distanced from her with Mira. "Welcome Back from being Fucked Silly tea," she declared, sipping her own. "Perfect aftercare."

Rumi choked.

"So . . ." Mira traced the rim of hers. ". . . How was it?"

Rumi stared at the turtle's gleefully painted eyes.

"Did we . . . cross a boundary? Did we make you uncomfortable?"

"No," Rumi replied instantly, head shooting up. "Not . . . no. I'm --"

They waited patiently.

"That was my first time," she admitted shyly, "touching myself. I -- I never felt like I could like my body enough before. And even if I did . . . demons needed tending to first. Fans to please. I never had a reason to need . . ." She shrugged, trailing off.

"That -- you've never had an orgasm before tonight?" Zoey sounded like she was in awe.

Another shrug, a tiny sip of tea to avoid having to look at them.

"Was it good?" she asked with no shame.

"Zoey," Mira sighed.

But Zoey was watching her, she could feel it to her very core, with an expectancy that willed her to answer. 

"Yes," she whispered, "it was so good. I never . . . it was so sudden. The need. Trying before tonight was . . . it was more painful. Didn't bother to try again until now."

Zoey smiled a little. "It's meant to be like that. Good, I mean. Freeing."

Rumi nodded slowly. She wouldn't know.

Her body was still buzzing and hyperaware, she felt the arousal slinking in her blood like an animal on the hunt.

Mira seemed to be studying her. "Do you . . . want to do it again?"

Rumi blinked. "Like . . . touch myself?"

"That and / or have us touch you," Zoey took over, wiggling her fingers like she did in New York. "You looked more relaxed than you have in a long time."

How could they be so casual about this? Did they know what they were asking?

"Um . . . what if . . . I don't want to," Rumi struggled for words, for context, "ruin things. Our friendships."

And then Zoey laughed, full-bellied. Mira was biting her lip to keep herself from joining as she eyed Rumi.

"Rums," Zoey managed through the laughing and tears, cheeks bright red, "We want to ruin our friendship. Mira and I have been waiting for you to realize we've been 'courting' you for a month!"

Rumi stared.

A pause.

Mira blinked. "Rumi," she said, slowly, "you've known Zoey and I have been dating for like, two years, right?"

Rumi spilled tea on the blanket.

Chapter Text

Sleep don't visit

So, I choke on the sun

Mira and Zoey liked to think that they had been pretty forthcoming with themselves and their relationship.

It had started with quiet nervousness over two years ago -- Zoey's passionate and undying sunlight being a spark to Mira's soul. Zoey had known what she wanted but it took Mira longer to catch up. She was still trying to come to terms with HUNTR/X's rising popularity and the demon-hunting thing. Their training had just complete after three years and Celine had just released them into the world to be its' saviors.

How the hell was Mira supposed to juggle so many things at once? 

The answer was as simple as it was complicated: her girls. 

Mira thought she'd be the one with the most difficulty in relying on the only other two people who knew what she was going through.  She thought she'd be the brooding, steadfast mess that they'd come to for reassurance.

She was wrong. 

Rumi outdid her when it came to filling that particular role and she took it beyond even normal constraints. She forgave things with Mira and Zoey that she tended to punish herself for, she took the brunt of media attention as the lead-singer, the face of the group even if Mira was the official visual. 

It caused them to all grow closer but Mira and Zoey even more-so despite their efforts to keep ahold of Rumi. Somehow, their oldest member managed to always be one step ahead of grasp.

Mira and Zoey didn't hide them, their relationship, from Rumi. They'd hoped she would notice like she always did when it came to them, her girls, and inquire about it or say something to show she was fine with it.

Zoey and Mira had come to the conclusion, after Rumi passed out the first night post-Idol Awards, that there was a solid reason Rumi slipped in her usual observance of them. Questions had been answered about small hints not being received, their affections not hitting as more than just bonds of 'sisterhood'.

Both of the younger members had talked since that night: their shame in pulling their weapons on the only other woman they'd ever love together, the trauma that all three of them barely managed to escape, the sometimes lost and distant way Rumi would stare off mid-conversation.

It kept them up at night, but it forced Mira to remain on edge the most. She didn't tell Zoey when she'd slip out of one of their beds and pad down the hall to check on Rumi. Rumi who had told them everything that differed with her demon heritage now that she'd began to embrace it, who heard Bobby in the elevator before it even reached their floor.

Rumi who'd be curled up in the center of her bed like she couldn't find it in herself to seek comfort, so she did her best to at least find a way to sleep.

Zoey who clocked each of Rumi's emotions when they were too powerful to be hidden like theirs could because now Rumi bore her heart as patterns all over her body, who seemed to glow the brightest when either of them remained close.

Zoey who knew something wasn't right that night after their American interview and was devastated to be proven right.

And both of them: who knew Rumi was starting to lose pieces of her well-built facade and had no protection for that raw, vulnerable soul she carried like it weighed more than the planet.

Ships are launching from my chest

Some have names, but most do not

If you find one, please

Let me know what piece I've lost

"You . . ." Rumi ran her fingers along the slightly damp edges of the blanket, not really concerned with the spill but pretending to be so she could avoid meeting their eyes. ". . .I see."

Rumi wasn't sure what to say, not really. If she looked back to certain things and recalled others, it would fit like pieces she'd been missing to a wider puzzle. Zoey was always -- always -- affectionate and Mira was unable to fight the 'lovergirl' allegations that the former often threw at her.

 ". . . It makes sense," she admitted shyly, glancing up to find Mira's knuckles white from her grip on her mug while Zoey practically tore her lip open from how hard she was biting it. "If I think about it, it's like a lightbulb turning on."

And yet, their expressions didn't change. Their postures remained wound.

"You aren't mad?" Zoey asked in a small voice. It made Rumi want to launch across the open space between them and wrap her in a hug because . . . this was Zoey. Her Zoey. Their Zoey. She scarcely backed down from her dreams, never feared the critical eye of society. She claims it's because growing up in America did that to kids like her -- and she'd faced backlash and unwanted opinions her entire life because of things out of her control.

Rumi was many things; but she was not one of those who sought to tear down either Zoey and Mira like everyone else did.

"No." Rumi hesitated, clenching a fistful of blanket.

Mira watched her, reading every move she made down to her fingers tightening like a brace for something more. 

But then Rumi moved before she could get too into her head over it, before they could guess what she was trying to think. She shifted until her body curled into the crook of Zoey's open side, nose brushing her shoulder as she settled into the space that felt like she was perfectly made for it. 

Zoey's breath shuddered in her ribcage and through Rumi as Mira curled an arm around both of them like she always did when they cuddled. Rumi suspected they did not want to scare her off, but they needed her as much as she needed them right now. Emotions were thick in the shared bubble, and Rumi knew this was the first step into something more intricate than they were ready for.

Zoey's head tilted down to rest on Rumi's. "We . . . we weren't trying to keep it from you," she repeated, copying Mira's words near-exactly from only minutes ago. "We just . . . we thought you figured it out and didn't say anything."

Rumi hid a smile in Zoey's shoulder. "That sounds like something I would do."

Mira's hand slipped down the back of her neck, scratching. Needing to touch, needing to ground.

"We never wanted to make you think we were trying to oust you."

"You always included me in activities and plans, Zo." Rumi lifted her head so she could look the maknae in the eye. She reached up with the hand between herself and Zoey to tenderly, tentatively, run her fingers along the side of her freckled face. "I just . . . wasn't paying attention. I should have and I'm sorry if it led to either of you thinking I was just blatantly ignoring that part of you guys. I didn't know, but I do now and I'm so happy for you. You both deserve to be happy after everything and I'm only relieved you had one another to rely on during the last few years."

Rumi knew her patterns were shifting beneath her sleep shirt, the light golden flickering across Zoey's form as the younger nuzzled into her palm. At least they both knew the truth of how she felt: she was happy, happy because they didn't feel so lost and alone like she did. She'd never want them to have that experience, that dark mindset that she was so used to hosting for so long.

Mira breathed out heavily like she'd been holding air in her lungs in a carefully constructed manner.

Zoey's shoulders trembled beneath both of them and Rumi realized, when her palm felt the hot wet, that she was crying. "I--"

Rumi reached up and cradled her head to her own neck this time, allowing Zoey to loosen and wrap her arms around Rumi with such impact. Rumi held her like she wanted to be held in these moments, with crushing tightness to remind her that she was here and would not let her fall into those overwhelming emotions by herself. Mira scooted closer to her back as well and together the two of them comforted Zoey through the tears.

"We -- We love you so much, Rumi."

And though the declaration was muffled into her shirt that had dampened under tears, Rumi could simply tell how true it was. 

She flitted her eyes over to Mira and sought out a read on her own features. Mira found her already staring, sharp jawline loose and her eyes softer than Rumi felt she deserved.

They stayed that way until Zoey's tears dried and her trembling eased, eyes puffy and red and still so fucking beautiful. Rumi caressed her cheek again and wiped away the stray droplets of tears that dare remain.

Zoey shifted until she managed to pull herself upright again, reaching up to wipe her own eyes with her sleeve once Rumi let her hand drop.

"Thank you," Zoey sniffed, a crooked smile twitching slowly on the corners of her lips. "I needed that."

"Always," Rumi promised gently.

"We love you," Mira echoed, but directed it at Zoey. A kiss to her head, then a smile at Rumi. "And when  we say I love you, we mean more than just as friends."

Rumi's head emptied out until all that remained were those words. "You love me."

"It scares us."

"But you love me."

"So much." Mira's voice cracked. 

Rumi moved first, reaching over Zoey's head and with a burning need. She took Mira's cheeks in both of her hands and pulled her closer before she could change her mind.

And kissed her.

For a moment she worried she had done the wrong thing; maybe it was much too soon for a kiss, maybe she should have asked first.

But then Mira made a low noise in her throat and kissed her back with a fire that burned down any doubts Rumi was hosting. Cleansed the entire field to prepare to start anew.

Rumi wanted to be closer. As close as her body  would allow while being smashed against Zoey, and perhaps Mira sensed that. She tugged at Rumi and overtook her need with an air of control, keeping her still over Zoey's warmth as the kiss turned more messy.

Mira needed to breath and Rumi had to let her. A small nip to her swollen lips was the parting gift she received before the taller pulled back with a heaving chest and little more than a small sigh.

Rumi was tingling. Her lips, her fingertips, the ends of her ears. 

"You're so pretty."

Rumi craned her head down and saw Zoey had twisted a weird way in order to gaze at both of them. A soft glow reflected along her pinked skin and Rumi rose a slightly shaky arm to find her patterns were pulsing between two colors: Pink and gold.

"That's new," the maknae mused as she traced the design of one of the sharp stripes, pressing against it curiously. "You're feeling two things at once."

Rumi managed to untangle herself from Zoey so all three of them could watch the way her patterns went back and forth between the two colors, giving her the slight appearance of a lava lamp.

"What does pink mean?" Mira asked, low and husky as her eyes drifted back to the leader's face. "You were glowing with that color when we found you. Touching yourself."

Rumi's face burned and she suddenly felt rather shy, her silence likely enough of an answer for the women to make conclusions.

"Oh." Zoey's pretty features, once softened with tears and affection, were alight with quick mischief. "It's arousal."

"Is it." Rumi swore she could smell the changes in their scents, in the air around them. 

Zoey slinks closer, backing Rumi into the armrest of the couch wherein she was trapped between the furniture and Zoey's petite form. Black strands of hair feathered down the sides of her face and a knee slotted between Rumi's legs, further ensuring she had no escape.

Rumi craned her neck to seek out Mira, to gauge her reaction. But she had gotten to her feet and rounded the couch to crouch next to them on the floor, arms crossed over her propped knees. Like she was settling in for a show.

"Look at me," purred a silky song of a voice. Zoey.

Rumi's attention drew back to the youngest of the three, one freckled arm propped up on the armrest above Rumi and the other holding her hip, thumb tracing underneath the shirt.

"God," Zoey whispered, taking her in, gaze wandering even when she had made Rumi's stay focused. "I want to -- Can I kiss you, too?"

"Yes." Rushed, pleading.

Zoey did not wait any longer. She pressed their lips together, body pressing so close to Rumi's that she could hardly stand it but couldn't bare to part with it.

Zoey kissed with something lighter, but just as hot as Mira's. It was needy and consuming in every which way that mattered. The hand tightened on her hip and suddenly Zoey's knee moved upwards, likely on accident but --

Rumi gasped into Zoey's mouth, jerking at the sensation. Everyone froze and heavy breathing filled the otherwise silent surroundings.

Zoey swallowed as she pulled back from the kiss, eyes darkened and locked in. Pushed her knee up again with intention this time, right where Rumi's clit was.

Rumi's legs twitched, snapping shut around Zoey's thigh entirely while Rumi's dizzying thoughts buzzed so loud she couldn't think clearly. Her head dropped back near Zoey's flattened hand, neck exposed and patterns pulsing intensely.

"Did you like that?" Zoey whispered near her jugular, lips brushing barely so.

Rumi closed her eyes, furiously red and toes digging into the cushions.

"Answer me." Zoey managed to dig again even with Rumi's unforgiving hold on her thigh. She didn't need much freedom to get Rumi where she wanted her. She just had to push.

Rumi whined -- honest to Gwi-Ma whined -- and turned her head away.

Mira let out a breathy chuckle.

Rumi's eyes flew open and settled on her. She looked content and even a little smug, smirk plastered on in such a way that sent strikes of heat straight to her core. She clenched her legs and Zoey laughed against her neck.

"She likes that look on you," Zoey tattled, tongue grazing the creases and grooves of her throat. 

"Duly noted."

And without a warning, without Zoey so much as giving her a heads up, started a slow but brutal pace against Rumi's prone form. "Do you want me to stop?"

"I--"

She briefly glanced at Zoey, who seemed confident in her movements but remained cautious. "Or should I keep going?" she breathed, deepening her knee's grind, "Should I do this until you cum? I'd say I'll do it 'til you're a whiny, messy, unspeakable thing but--" she nipped the skin near her collarbone, "I think I may have done that already."

Rumi clenched her hands until she found somewhere to put them, sprawled along Zoey's back and forcing her to stay, nails biting the shirt and into her skin.

"Looks like you're not going anywhere, Zo," Mira croons.

Zoey's teeth kept up a steady graze along her skin but failed to keep it in a pattern, making it difficult for Rumi to track and keeping her in a constant frenzy. Her hips started grinding upwards in tandem to Zoey's knee, seeking out the pleasure that she was being given.

"How's it feel? Tell Mira."

"Yeah, pretty girl. Go ahead, let me know how good Zo makes you feel."

"S'good--Zoey." Rumi was disrupted by the raven-haired woman putting a hand down her sleep pants and seeking out the clit herself.

"She's soaked all the way up to her clit, Mir," she groaned as she fumbled to find a pace. The pressure was still too much and not enough, having yet to find a rhythm that allowed Rumi to truly feel that pleasure.

"I bet her underwear is ruined."

Zoey pressed her knee just a little closer until her hand was trapped between Rumi's pussy and knee, deciding that her palm would provide the pressure since Rumi was too slick to get a good grasp. Rumi yelped out at the explosions that erupted from the contact.

"Jesus Christ." Zoey's hand on the armrest tried to keep purchase as she forced her body to the limit, determined to get Rumi to fall apart without caring for her own discomfort.

"We're gonna take care of you, babygirl," Zoey vows into her neck, feeling Rumi's speed increase and trying to meet it with her own. "Gonna -- fuck, yeah you're doing so good -- gonna make sure you never feel alone. Gonna love you for the rest of our lives."

Mira hummed, agreeing or musing on the matter. It didn't matter to Zoey and it certainly didn't matter to Rumi, who was chasing down that rising wave that wanted to overtake her.

"We have a lot to talk about," Zoey continued through her fucking Rumi, "and we will talk about it. We will set up -- you're so fucking close, fuck -- rules. We know you're fighting this much freedom. The exposure you feel." Her fingers curled, damp from Rumi's wetness, grazing the outside of her pussy just so. "But you'll never be alone again. We will catch you every time, Rumi. You hear me?"

A broken sob ripped through the half-demon, lost in a chaos of overwhelming emotion and pleasure. Zoey spoke with such assurance and with a tone that indicated it was already decided and Rumi didn't have to worry about anything other than --

"Cum for us, Rumi," Mira ordered, throwing a no-nonsense gaze in to send home.

And who was Rumi to disobey?

It was so much more than the one she had earlier. She was not well-versed in sex to begin with, but somehow this one managed to shake her down and take her apart without issue. Sounds she'd never thought she could make were muffled by Zoey's shoulder as she keened into the maknae's body atop her own. Moans and little broken cries that she tried and failed to contain.

"Shh . . . good girl. You did so great," Zoey soothed as she brought their grinding to a slow, easing stop. Her palm lay hot and wet on her throbbing clit but she must have sensed how sensitive Rumi was and remained still. She did move her knee, encasing Rumi's leg so they were intwined together. 

Aftershocks eventually faded and sometime between her orgasm and the comedown, Mira had moved closer until her fingers were stroking Rumi's hair and kisses were dappled across her enflamed cheeks. 

She found Zoey watching her with an unreadable gentleness, the kind they both had been using with Rumi lately. "Hey, pretty girl," she whispers, "you look a little gone."

Rumi swallowed. Found words through the fog. "Felt good. Made me feel so good, Zo."

Success. A smile bloomed and Rumi's heartrate increased again. 

"I'm glad, baby. Does anything hurt?"

Rumi shook her head.

"Can I have words?"

Rumi paused. Shook her head again. She didn't think she had anymore energy for speaking -- talking a second ago had added to her overwhelm.

"Okay." Zoey didn't push, brushing a strand of damp purple hair from her sticky forehead. "What we're gonna do now is sit you up, okay? I know it's probably a little sensitive all over, so I'm going to go super slow like when we try to catch Derpy for his teeth brushing."

Rumi blinked and grinned a little at the memory of the three of them trying to corner the giant blue tiger from different sides. Nine times out of ten he just portaled to a different part of their giant three-floored apartment.\

Mira snorted as she rose from her knees and glanced between the two. "I'm gonna grab some things, but I'll be back okay?"

Rumi shot up quickly, a sudden panic filling her as Mira spoke. She jostled Zoey in the process, forcing her hand closer to her core. "You're leaving? Why?"

Zoey quickly removed her hand -- not slow like she initially intended -- so she could try to calm the unexpected worry in Rumi's body. "She's not leaving."

"I'm not," Mira confirmed firmly, leaning down to grab Rumi's chin and tilt it up. "I will be loud so you can hear me if you'd like, but I'm not even stepping out of the apartment. You need water and something with sugar to help with the comedown."

Confusion filled her. She felt great, she wasn't hurting so why the need? "I'm fine, Mira. I --" She wracked around for the right thing to say, to describe how she was feeling. She didn't think she could make her tongue form such long sentences, so she meekly repeated, "I'm fine."

"It's not just about that," Mira replied firmly, but much more gentled, "Your body releases a shit-ton of dopamine during sex and some aspects make that more heavy. We need to make sure you don't crash badly, because you will probably crash and we need to be prepared for it so it's not as bad as it could be."

Rumi studied Mira, caught between the clarity of post-sex and the very warm fog that kept clawing her back down. Zoey wrapped her blanket around Rumi again even though her skin was still warm, pulling her close. "Mira's right. In about ten minutes you'll complain you're cold," she comments offhandedly as she reached for the remote to the television. "Let Mira and I help okay?"

Mira still did not leave, and wouldn't until Rumi was comfortable with her doing so. But she was agitated like she needed something to do, so Rumi shakily nodded. "Okay. But . . . cuddles when you're back."

Mira cupped her cheeks so tenderly. "As many cuddles as you can handle," she vows, and then kisses her and Zoey's cheek before disappearing first up the stairs.

"Good girl," Zoey praised as the singer settled back into her side, blanket wrapped close; suffocating but protective. "I don't think any of us expected that to happen."

Rumi peered up at her. "I wanted it."

"So did we," Zoey said, squeezing her arm. "But we have so much to talk about before we do it again. We want you and we need to make sure you understand that we don't want just sex."

Rumi inhaled the blanket's sweet and spicy scent -- soaked in Zoey and Mira. "So it will happen again?"

"If you want."

"I think . . ." Bravery, Rumi. "I think I'd like that. You were . . . I didn't realize how . . ."

But Zoey understood. Of course she did.

"I know, baby."

Zoey put on an American reality show that she'd been wanting to show the other two for ages, but neither party was really watching it. Rumi tried but her eyes were growing heavy and Zoey feared she may get to sleep before water and snacks were properly provided.

Thankfully Mira returned just before she was entirely gone, arms filled to the brim with different things. 

She set down the three freshly filled water bottles and various candies and snacks they kept hidden around the apartment from Celine's inspections, though Celine showed them where to hide the goodies so she didn't have to report to their management about the contraband.

"Up, baby." Mira poked Rumi's arm and waited as the sluggish woman unwrapped herself. "I know -- we'll get you right back into your Zoey pillow after we get you changed."

Rumi was vaguely aware of pulling her own pants and underwear down, the air conditioning cooling her slick thighs. Hand on Mira's shoulder as she was put into dry clothes and her face was cleaned. "Pretty girl," Mira croons as some dried spit was wiped away.

Rumi turned pink, a brief flicker of yellow flashing within her patterns.

"No embarrassment," Mira said after sharing a concerned look with Zoey over Rumi's shoulder. "You are safe with us and we will never do anything to hurt the trust you just gave us."

"I just --" Rumi looked down at her sweats, dry and fresh from the warmer they splurged on, "-- I feel like . . . small."

Mira and Zoey paused, not shocked or disgusted, but curious. "Not like a kid or anything but . . . I feel like the reset button in my brain was smashed so hard it broke. I'm still trying to reboot and I felt far away from my body."

"It's called subspace and it's not something you need to ever be scared of." Fingers curled through hers as Mira replaced Zoey so the maknae could go wash her hands. The loss of Zoey was immediately present even when she had come back quicker than Mira did. 

"Subspace?"

"It's those happy chemicals I told you about. Dopamine, endorphins, all the goods." Zoey reached up and poked the side of Rumi's temple without much force. "They build up during scenes and everyone's limits differ. Right now it seems like you're easily sent into that floaty bubble because everything is brand new and we also piled a lot of new things on you beforehand. It's not a bad thing but it needs to be done in a safe environment and monitored after."

"Aftercare."

"Right." Mira nodded. "If we don't make sure you're brought back down at a careful pace, you can crash and the after-effects can be bad. You'll feel like you got the flu and depression will hit pretty strongly all at once. If that happens please tell us."

Rumi considered all of the information given to her and nodded slowly. She may need to go into more about it later, but she was barely nibbling on the chocolate bar she was being coaxed into eating.

"Does subspace happen every time?"

"Depends on the scene," Zoey said, shrugging, "For me it takes more than what happened tonight but that's because I don't usually seek the subspace. I like to top sometimes and it pisses Mira off to no end."

Mira narrowed her eyes but didn't take the bait. Held more chocolate to Rumi's face. "We will sit down and discuss what you like and don't think you'll like when you're comfortable doing so. We don't expect you to be tied down and spanked every time we want to have sex. Zoey and I are flexible."

"Totes."

Mira rolled her eyes but Rumi released a breathy laugh. Her girls beamed in response.

Rumi drank her water next, asking shyly, "So you're both sort of tops. I'm guessing . . . that makes me . . ."

"We don't usually put labels on it unless we're actively in scene, but," Mira smirks predatorily at Rumi, "you're the most bottommost of bottoms we've ever met."

"Submissive and breedable," Zoey murmured demurely, taking a chunk out of a fluffy marshmallow treat.

Rumi hid her face in Mira's arm.

Peel the scars from off my back

I don't need them anymore

You can throw them out

Rumi twirled the ballpoint pen between her index and middle finger as she sat beside a nervous Bobby across the suits all sitting at their large table.

She'd woken up that morning on the couch surrounded by warmth to her phone chirping, alerting her to her 10 AM meeting with execs at Sunlight Entertainment.

She had skillfully removed herself from both of her girls, allowing them to continue their much needed sleep as she went for a shower. Her mind . . . it was settled. Her heart was full. She knew there were discussions to be had but somehow, Rumi knew things were only going to be better now. They wanted her, had her, held her all night.

She found them still passed out when she was grabbing her things. Put the coffee maker on, told Derpy to cuddle them in her absence. 

But now three hours later, she was nursing a headache and her temper was tilting off a perilous cliff. 

What was the point of this meeting again? she wondered as she doodled in her notebook, waiting for her name to be called so she can input her two cents on her own brand.

"Rumi-nim?"

Rumi lifted her gaze from her doodle of a fat sussie wearing her tiny hat and blinked. "Apologies, would you mind repeating?"

The suit prattled on about advertisements and societal standards until it was four PM and Rumi was uncharacteristically short in her responses. Bobby would soften blows where he could, throwing in suggestions here and there, but he knew Rumi was off.

"I think I need to end it for today." Chair pushed back as she stood, pen dropped and notebook closing. "I feel like we covered ground but I have prior arrangements that I need to get to. Can we schedule another meeting?"

They all seemed taken aback by her attitude. Rumi was not one to cut things off and reschedule them for a different time -- she was well liked for that reason. She powered through, got things done before they could pile up, and moved on to the next. She saved company time, money, and repeated topics. 

But the idea of not leaving this building until the sun was below the horizon was agitating to her today. She waited for any one of them to declare their agreement, offered a polite bow and bid her farewells.

She'd send Bobby an apology and uptick in his paycheck later for leaving him to the sharks but she was hungry and still so tired.

When she got into the car called for her, she checked her phone.

Zoey and Mira texted her a couple of times in their private chat together but when no response was garnered, they moved to the thread with Bobby. He had told them the meeting was rough on Rumi and she didn't have time to look at her phone. 

She closed the app and rubbed her temples,  nostrils flaring with the force of the sigh that escaped her. 

She wished she could have woken up with them and had lazy breakfast and watched Zoey's western shows. In fact, she craved that.

So much for their break.

Chapter Text

I wanna leave but the world won't let me go

What it is and where it stops, nobody knows

You gave me a life I never chose

Neither of the three HUNTR/X women had a moment to spare just so they could sit down and talk for a while.

Rumi's meeting ended with her sleeping in her bed and waking up to Zoey and Mira on top of her, but they had their own schedules to attend. Zoey was running a donation stream at the aquarium in Seoul while Mira was being flown to Japan for a clothing sponsorship. They were both really, really, big projects compared to Rumi fighting execs and putting off releases of half-finished songs.

The dynamic they had built up was starting to deteriorate with no fault on anyone, really. 

Zoey and Mira would check in when they could each morning either through calls, texts, or a quick kiss on the cheek and a, "Feelings?"

Rumi would be as honest as she could. Sometimes she forgot to eat so they had her send photos of the meals they'd have delivered. If her location on their shared app was stagnant for too long, suddenly a break would be announced via Bobby barging into the meeting with catering from some fancy spot in Seoul.

But two weeks into the madness of busy, Rumi found herself struggling.

She cried because her period started a week early, ruining a new pair of lace lingerie she had specifically made the courageous choice in purchasing in hopes of seducing one or both of her new girlfriends.

Karma for trying, she supposed as she tossed the pair into the trash. Lesson learned.

It wasn't truly the ruined underwear she was moping over. Her cycle, like clockwork and on time every month without issue, had suddenly thrown so many wrenches into so many gears. A domino effect was started. First, she had to cancel her solo-shoot for a popular swimsuit company and promised that next week would be better. And then she realized she was out of tampons -- and would anyone believe her if she told them so were Zoey and Mira?

She begged Bobby, nearly in tears of frustration, to go to the store and grab some. Bless his heart he did it without blinking or cringing upon request. 

The third domino that fell down was breakfast before her next unavoidable meeting: she'd run out of meals. Meals she looked forward to because they were made by Mira, and they were something she could rely on at least to be there when she needed a semblance of balance.

She'd run out.

By the middle of the week she was running on her own fumes. They had yet to even produce a new song and the higher ups wanted to create a set list for their next tours -- but how does she explain it more obviously that it's difficult to do with no new music?

So they suggested Takedown be added and she nearly lost it.

"We are not," Rumi started slowly, jaw ticking as she worked to count to ten and not pull her sword on these people, "preforming that song. I have made it very clear it wasn't to be put in the list of songs to preform."

"It's popular," one of them retorted, like that made it all the better. "It was received well by the audience. We could --"

Rumi cut him off, not caring for politeness now, "--do nothing with it. We didn't like how it came out or the direction it put is in. If you put that in the set I will fight it."

"Rumi-nim--" Another rally to try and protest her decision. The money it could make, the exclusive single they could turn it into -- that was all they were worried about. Her desires were ignored and she was beginning to become temperamental. 

"No."

Silence.

"You can say no all you'd like, but if we end up putting it in then it will be preformed," one of the PR-advisors stated. "But we will take further consideration into your wants, Miss Ryu-Rumi."

Rumi slowly stood up, palms flat on the table as she stared down the people with her mother's legacy tied to their names. She was the daughter of the woman who helped make this company viable and put food on their tables. She was not beholden to them, contract or otherwise. She hoped the fire was burning in her eyes like Celine's did and said quietly, "You do that without first talking to Celine, myself, and Bobby in person and I promise that I will make sure that when ownership of Sunlight Entertainment is transferred to me, not one of you will have your jobs."

She didn't wait for their reactions before pushing off the table and stalking out.

The nail in the coffin for her came when she went to pick up her dry-cleaning for an event HUNTR/X would need to attend after the first of the month. Only to be told that her dress had been lost in the process.

Rumi's lips trembled at the apologetic owner as she slipped Bobby's card on the counter and told them to contact him.

She turned her phone off that night, unable to face the emails and unanswered texts from everybody.

She needed her girls. She needed to tell them it was happening, the anxiety and sickly oil-like patterns made of night-black were back. They circled her like a pack of hungry wolves that hunted down an injured deer, waiting for the last of its' will left it before making the kill.

She would talk to Zoey when she came back tonight, she had to. 

She couldn't. Not when Zoey practically skipped through the elevator, arms full of plushies for all three of them and a bright-faced smile so wide that Rumi's heart ached.

Rumi didn't allow her despair to show when the American announced that her streaming event got extended due to the amount of donations being sent and popularity it seemed to hold.

It was an opportunity that Zoey grabbed and didn’t let go of. The board at the aquarium allowed Zoey to have more access to their building so she could have more freedom and creativity for her streams, so she spent most of her days lately at the location until she could meet the new donation goal.

Rumi was content to soak in her pure, unfiltered joy.

Zoey — as she always had been — was animated and passionate as she explained what she did: the staff allowing her to be a sort of 'honorary care provider', doing life in a day type streams, cleaning tanks in scuba gear, watching medical care of the animals, and participating in live-shows. So that first night Rumi plastered on the best of her facade as she could, lowered her sleeves, and hugged Zoey until they both got hungry.

Mira was even further away from her right now, a ghost in her own right. Rumi didn't take it as a slight; she knew just how important this opportunity was for her even if she tried to play it off.

Rumi and Zoey both saw through that cool, “fuck it all” vibe. Mira went into this project with subdued optimism but was probably giving it her all. Rumi could simply guess, based on years of knowing her, that Mira hoped to end this modeling photoshoot with a good working relationship that might end up leading to a semi-permanent model contract with the company.

So really both of her girls were doing big things for themselves and she was proud of them.

Unfortunately that did not slow her anxieties one bit or make her feel better, and certainly didn’t help her shame over how it made her feel.

Rumi for her part threw herself into her work in attempts to fight the familiar dread seeping through her pores.

Rumi used to be able to weather any storm — before her initial voice lost, at least. It was a managed chaos that was never truly uncontrollable especially when they were touring and slaying demons.

Rumi was able to handle small changes because she knew they wouldn’t stray from her normal schedules. Her calendar for five years had been filled and scarcely changed, and looking at it set her into a state of mind that helped her tackle things.

But now her calendar was messy. Things were overlapping and her girls had their own schedules while hiatus from their music drew on. Personal projects were a big part in furthering their career and keeping their images fresh, but it’s the first time that Rumi wasn’t with at least one of them or at home with Celine.

This was not controllable chaos. This was not purpose. 

And Rumi was silently in shambles as she forced her way through each day blindly and lacking assurance she would make it out in one piece.

One of those nights when Zoey curled into her side, sleeping so peacefully and nuzzling into her shoulder, Rumi came to a very stark realization: her girls were part of her routine. Where they went she normally followed, even on solo projects just to stay by their sides.

She was unable to do that this time and it stole from her some of her purpose: a strong, firm support for them as she cheered from the sidelines.

I’m pathetic.  

Being self-aware was somewhat giving her clarity. 

Rumi ended up muting her phone and ignoring requests to come into the office off scheduled times she had agreed to in advance. Requests turned into cool, professionally written emails from HR that went into her junk mail.

Rumi did not owe them a goddamn thing more than already promised and if they really wanted to push it, then at least she had something to focus on.

She took solace in Sussie and Derpy keeping her company. Though they had no voice, they filled a void that kept gaping wider the longer she missed Mira and Zoey. 

Bobby dropped by with meals every other day and they would eat together and chat because he was Bobby and he knew his girls and their quirks.  He tried. But it still wasn’t enough.

Two days before Mira’s flight home was when Zoey finished up her streaming event at the aquarium. Rumi would have been more excited over it if she wasn’t having a particularly rough course of cramps that hit in the middle of the period.

Thats how Zoey found her upon dragging her streaming equipment through the entryway and dropping it at her feet.

Zoey had expected the HUNTR/X lead to come sliding down the halls in sock-clad feet or tentatively greet her with that shy smile. But instead Zoey found her in a bundle on the couch watching one of Zoey’s shows,a hot water bottle cradled to her abdomen.

Immediately she dialed herself down into something soft as she padded over to the dozing woman, taking stock of the water on the coffee table and whispery breaths she drew.

Zoey could see the bags under her eyes. Not good.

She sat near Rumi’s legs, shifting the couch and alerting the purple-haired woman in the process. Coffee eyes fuzzy and tired took her in like she wasn’t sure she was actually seeing Zoey.

”Zo?”

”Yeah, hey.” Her lips pulled up. She resisted the urge to coo at how sweet her baby looked like this.

”Done?”

Zoey could not have prevented the little chuckle that found its way out of her. “Yeah, babygirl. All done.”

Rumi hummed contentedly, eyes fluttering closed again. 

“You started your period?” The maknae announces, questioning in tone as she flopped lifted Rumi’s legs and held them in her lap rather than pushing them up and away from her.

The television became the fill to the silence that Rumi left behind to Zoey’s question. The shorter of the two was about to ask again, wondering if she’d thought it was an observation rather than a question, but then a garbled ‘hmm’ was echoed from the woman.

The urge to get Rumi to use her words was strong but she put that energy into drawing tight circles on Rumi’s ankle instead.

She’d let it slide this time. Just this once.

“You’re early, aren’t you?”

No answer again. Zoey readied herself to press Rumi into speech, opening her mouth with a firm warning.

Then, quiet, almost shy,

“You remember when my period hits?”

Ah. 

Zoey turned her head in case her unnie was watching her, just a bit sheepish at being caught in her Rumi-Knowledge — but to be fair Rumi wasn’t the only person she took this much consideration in. She knew Mira’s allergies down to what detergent sets off her dermatitis and what flowers make her sneeze and run the most, and she picked up on Rumi’s quiet, standoffish aura when she wanted affection but didn’t think she could ask for it. 

Mira was emotionally intelligent in all aspects of life, but Zoey permanently inscribed every tiny detail that made her girls tick into her brain. They were her constant, never changing hyper fixations in a world where she had a revolving door of them.

She was Zoey. She could spin this.

”I mean . . . We’re all synced up,” Zoey commented casually, thumb pressing into the arch of her foot. “I started last night — which is usually when you and Mir start. The third of each month.”

Rumi frowned. “Why aren’t you in a ball of agony right now?”

Was that envy Zoey detected? 

Rumi adverted her eyes at the squint sent her way.  

Zoey’s lips twitched. “Birth control, babygirl. Been on a steady dosage since I was 12. I decided I was going to be too famous and too pretty to be bed bound by cramps my entire womanhood.”

”Ah.” Now Rumi remembered. Zoey had told them once, back in their early training years, that her periods had always been severe from the second she started. But that the prescription she got transferred to the pharmacy under a doctor Celine had curated helped significantly.

“Makes it a little easier on me. But I think you guys synced with me, if I’m being honest. I set the trend.”

Rumi snorted.

”My little trendsetter.”

Zoey preened in similar fashion to exotic birds before moving onto her other foot. 

For a while they both settled into this easy bliss, only half listening to the show on their flatscreen.

Fingers, skilled and sure, moved upward to the inside of her knee. They pressed in places that Rumi didn’t know was sore before Zoey really added pressure on it, soothing the ache as quickly as it came.

Rumi brought one of her hands to her face in effort to muffle the absolutely vile noise that bubbled up her throat.

Zoey’s content smile turned into a serpentine lest the moment Rumi cracked.

“Something wrong, Rums?”

”N-no.”

Zoey clicked her tongue. Moved her massage upward, closer to her thighs. “You’re so tight.”

”You’re a disgusting, vile, mean woman.”

Zoey only smirked wider. “Out and proud.”

”Umf,” Rumi said.

The banter continued for a few minutes in hushed playfulness, and Rumi decided to up her flirting once the courage came to her.

“If you wanted to feel me up you could just ask, you know.” She made sure a low tilt was included in the delivery.

The euphoric massage stilled, hands heavy and warm on her thighs. Rumi peered up and did her best to pretend she couldn’t feel the heat in her skin.

”Baby,” Zoey purred as she leaned over her body and brushed their noses together, “if I wanted to feel you up I wouldn’t be starting here.” A squeeze for emphasis. “I would start somewhere  more . . . Sensitive.”

Rumi’s entire body bloomed red, but not her patterns. “You’re an animal.”

Zoey turned thoughtful. “So technically I’ve got that dawg in me which bears the question: can I touch them?”

”Zoey!”

Goddess of the battle, leave it up to me

leave it up to me.

Mira jolted when her driver opened the back door of the car she took from the airport.

”Oh, I’m sorry.” The driver’s features, shadowed from the bright glow from the HUNTR/X Tower, morphed into something apologetic. “I hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep, miss.”

Mira shuffled out of the car, promising him that it was fine and thanked him when he handed her the handle of her suitcase.

Mira crossed the vacant lobby on swift feet, the roll of the suitcase wheels groaning and echoing on the polished floors.

She jabbed the passcode into the keypad that gave access to the HUNTR/X penthouse and leaned against the railing of the elevator, tired and waiting out the ride up.

She rubbed her eyes and pulled her phone from her pocket. Just like it did every single time, the photo of Rumi and Zoey posed with their raeymon lit up her lock screen. She breathed out and ran her thumb along the happy grins they sported.

It was two in the morning.

She kept the lock screen up until the chime of the elevator arriving to her floor forced her to pocket her phone again and grab her bags.  

The antechamber that separated the elevator from their actual penthouse was Celine’s design. Practical and neat but not given much thought since only a few were given access to this floor.

And waiting outside just to the left of the two large front doors was a perch they’d purchased for Sussie, who thought herself something of a guard dog in six eyed form. 

The magpie blinked open her top pair of eyes and squinted sleepily at the arrival. She trilled and fluffed her feathers, adjusting her posture.

Mira peered at Sussie and the magpie stared back as the dancer came to a slow stop in front of the doors. The red blink of the fingerprint scanner next to the doors was demanding, but she still watched Sussie.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” Mira said and finally  rested her thumb on the fingerprint reader. 

Sussie fluttered to rest on top of her suitcase and trilled again, as if scolding her. 

“Alright, whatever.” She pushed the doors open and pulled her suitcase and Rumi’s bird into the main living room, double checking it was secure before dragging the rolling bag across the sleek floors without a light needing to be flipped on. 

The multi-eyed magpie ( she's going to give that to Zoey later and ask her to make it a lyric in a new song ) remained snugly settled on top of the suitcase as Mira dragged her through the halls, did not move an inch when she carried the bag up the stairs, and paused at her open door.

Her bedroom was not empty.

In fact she could clearly see that Derpy took up the entire end of the bed while Zoey and Mira took up the middle. 

It was a sight to behold, one that made her heart leap into her throat with how much adoration just looking at them filled her with.

She quietly left the suitcase and magpie in the entrance to pull her phone from her pockets, approaching as the camera app swapped open.

She only really saw the humor in how they were sprawled after the photo was snapped and safely saved to her phone. Zoey was starfished with her limbs warped all over the mattress and Rumi clung to whatever warmest part of Zoey she could latch onto.

Mira scratched behind Derpy's large blue ears, soaking in her two dead-to-the-world lovers for a second longer.

Sussie trilled an octave lower than she did in the entrance. Mira looked over her shoulder and saw the bird had flown to the bathroom door handle, staring expectantly.

Ah, so it would seem Sussie was on Mira-care duty tonight.

She was quick to clean herself up and change into something softer before shuffling back out and finding a spot on her usual side of the bed. It did not take long for Rumi to unconsciously understand another source of warmth was nearby and roll over to stick to her instead.

Sleep had never been so easy.

Rumi's eyes fluttered open once the sunlight filtered through the blinds could no longer be ignored.

"Mm." She curled around her pillow and tried to return to a doze.

". . . so blue?"

Her eyes flew open like a sleeper agent activated at the sound of that voice.

Celine.

Celine?

She stumbled out of the sheets, kicking them from her ankles and dragging her body off of the center of the bed. The door was already opened and she quickly crossed the hall and down the stairs, still not fully awake.

There she was. Dressed as immaculately as usual, sitting on the couch Zoey had fucked her into not even two full weeks ago, studying Derpy —

Derpy.

Rumi made a small sound and lifted a fist to her chest to stifle it. 

But there was no fear in Celine's posture, only befuddlement and narrowed eyes as she held a mug of tea in one hand and rubbed her chin with the other.

Mira was cooking something if the smell reaching her nose was of any indication. Zoey was seated on the loveseat across from Celine with blowed up cheeks, stifling laughter or holding her breath, whichever came first.

"He's been blue since Rumi brought her home," Mira called from the kitchen. "We don't know much about him other than he belonged to Jinu."

Rumi watched Celine's head lift, tilting sideways with question. "Who's Jinu?"

Oh God. 

"Jinu --"

"Eomeoni?" Rumi asked, stepping onto the floor from the stairs. 

Celine turned sharply, something looser and softer becoming prominent. "Ttalnaemi," she responded in kind.

Rumi wanted to rush over and throw her arms around her neck and beg to be held. She missed Celine so much and seeing her was hitting like a bag of bricks.

Zoey had her legs crossed, mug sitting atop her knee as she watched the interaction carefully.

Celine's voice cracked just a little when she opened her arm and gestured, "Come here?"

Rumi didn't hesitate. She was across the large floor and she simply climbed over the back of the couch to get to her mother quicker, arms thrown around her neck. Celine caught her and held her just as tight.

"I missed you," Rumi proclaimed, allowing her favorite childhood smells to overtake her. "So, so much."

"I missed you too, I'm sorry I didn't — I'm sorry." 

"I thought you didn't want to talk to me again."

Celine's chest heaved under their hug. "Oh, no. No, Rumi. That isn't why I — that's not why I didn't reach out."

"Then why?" Rumi asked.

"I went to . . . I went to therapy. Inpatient," Celine admitted, pulling Rumi back so they could really look at one another. "I realized that the more your patterns revealed themselves, the more desperate I got in trying to force you to hide. It wasn’t right and I was cruel when I should have been kind. I needed to step away so I could get the help I needed. I failed you."

Therapy. Celine went to therapy for her. Rumi didn't know how to take that -- to have Celine here admitting her faults and showing them to her when she’d been so steadfast in being right for so long.

Celine reached up to tuck a strand of Rumi's loose hair behind her ear, inspecting her daughter for any sign of injury. Did not flinch as her hands grazed across the surface of Rumi's wrists where her patterns flickered with gold just a tiny amount.

"Are you okay?" Celine checked when Rumi didn't say anything.

"There was a lot I thought I wanted to confront you about," Rumi murmured, eyes flickering to Zoey across the coffee table who met her gaze and offered silent support, "but I — you're holding me without flinching at the patterns and you're not asking me to cover up anymore. I see that you went through the effort because . . . because it shows you wanted to be in my life."

Celine nodded. "I couldn't handle it when you came to me, asked the impossible of me that night."

Rumi's blood turned to ice and she stilled.

She had not told Zoey and Mira about what she had gone to do that night after she fled. Had no strength to admit she was ready to die.

Zoey caught her faltering and leaned back in her chair.

She'd address that after Celine left.

"I'm just glad to have you back," Rumi whispered like a prayer. “But . . . I don’t know if I forgive you yet.”

They all heard the uncertainty that was undisguised, the fear of retribution for her admissions. 

But none came. 

Celine squeezed her. “I will wait for as long as it takes, then. Because I don’t think I could live a life where you didn’t exist.”

Rumi heard the conviction. 

And believed her. 

“Not that I’m upset you’re here,” Rumi started as they sat at their dining table, finishing off the breakfast Mira had made, “but you usually like to call before coming over.”

It was a question more than anything, curiosity. 

“I got a call from An-Jin-Ho,” Celine replied, setting down her chopsticks with graceful swiftness. “Have you been answering Sunlight’s meeting requests?”

Not an accusation but the statement was probing.

Zoey and Mira’s eyes snapped to Rumi in unsettling harmony. 

Rumi stacks rice on top of rice, meeting none of theirs in return.

”Rumi.” Mira’s tone was gentle, tender. “It’s okay. What happened?”

The chopsticks trembled. Her rice tower collapsed.

”They’re trying to put Takedown into our set,” she finally whispers, fearful that if she spoke too loud that it’d come to fruition. “I told them no multiple times and . . . They tried to use their power over the HUNTR/X label to force my hand.”

Mira’s eyes darkened and her jaw locked. 

Celine’s lips pursed, but remained neutral. “What did they tell you?”

”That they’ll take my desire into consideration, but that I probably won’t have a choice in the end,” responded bitterly, pushing her plate back. 

Mira’s nostrils flared like an agitated bull’s, escaping breath loud and irritated. 

But Zoey knew there was more to it. There always was with her. “And?”

Rumi’s teeth dug into her bottom lip but it was  no use. Everything grew fuzzy and heavy in her chest and the back of her head. 

“I—I told them that if they . . . If they did this without talking to me or Celine first,” she stuttered, swallowing, “I would fire them the moment I was given ownership of Sunlight.”

Celine raised an eyebrow, a spark of pride crossing her face. “No wonder they were so worked up,” she murmured, mostly to herself.

”I’m sorry.”

”No, don’t be,” Celine reassured. “They’re toeing the line with everything going on right now and my absence made it worse.”

Rumi lifted her gaze. “So what should we do?”

Celine folded her hands on top of the table. “You enjoy your break, whatever is left. I will handle Sunlight and I’ll make sure Takedown isn’t even a mention in the next tour.”

It was a weight pulled off of Rumi’s shoulders and for the first time in two weeks, she let herself relax. 

But the way in which Mira watched her made her understand that once Celine left, she was going to be at their will.

Chapter Text

Then you forget that

Deal you made with God

After Celine leaves with one last tight hug to each girl, Zoey announces she will do cleanup and get dishes in the washer before joining them in the living area. Mira catches Zoey staring with a long, contemplated gaze at Rumi as the two of them exit the space, though, and she briefly thinks that perhaps Zoey needed a moment to grasp what they were about to broach with Rumi.

The tension in the air was suffocating to Rumi who curled her fingers into the hem of her sleep shirt as Mira leads her out of the dining room and back to the couch.

"We should talk," Mira says as she wraps Rumi into an embrace as they settle down. 

Rumi pretends to be watching the city outside of their large floor-to-ceiling windows where their rainbow Honmoon thrummed as though it were pleased to see them.

"Rumi." Mira lowered her voice an octave and allowed authority to leak into her spoken name.

Rumi curls her fingers around Mira's sweater sleeve in reply, her eyes not moving from their post.

A large hold of air snorts out of Mira's nostrils when she was not given the verbal reaction she was expecting from their workaholic leader.

Mira decides to change methods -- just as she's learned to do over time when it comes to Rumi's avoidant tendencies.

Long fingers find the hard ridges of Rumi's chin and the woman's neck gives way with little resistance when Mira gently tilts it so Rumi is now looking at her.

Mira searches her facial expression for whatever it is Rumi is trying so hard to hide from her. She finds it in the unshed tears that line the bottom of her eyes, already red-rimmed.

Mira's heart nearly breaks into glass-tiny shards at the sight. The last time she'd seen Rumi cry in this context was the hotel in New York -- and that was a sign that she and Zoey needed to step in before their unnie fell apart with no repair.

"Come here." She doesn't really give Rumi a choice, removing her grip from the other's chin so both arms can engulf her into the tightest embrace she could manage. And like it was a key into the perfect lock, Rumi opened up. The shorter woman collapsed into her with a sob and shaking shoulders the second Mira had her hold on her. Fingers dug into the soft teddy bear sweater and hot tears soaked her shoulder. Mira did nothing but slip a hand under Rumi's shirt so she could place a flat, grounding palm on her spine. She hoped it sent an unspoken message.

"It's okay," Mira whispers, "you're okay. I've got you."

When the three of them met, it was being thrown into the training grounds together by Celine. She had said that in order to solidify their bond as teammates and as a future idol group, they needed to experience an intense and brutal regimen together. Mira and Zoey hadn't even been able to produce weapons out of the Honmoon yet; they were only there a week and still trying to accept the fact that demons existed, they were there to save the world, and that the Honmoon was theirs to protect while making grounds as an idol group.

Mira had hated Rumi from the moment she set eyes on her. She knew that she was the daughter of the late Mi-Yeong, knew that she grew up under Celine's care, but the distance and effort in which Rumi insisted on with the other two upon meeting pissed her off. She could already summon her weapon -- a glowing, lethal sword with a gold hilt that sang when Rumi handled it -- and fought the faux-demons that Celine summoned with the Honmoon with precision that made Mira envious.

Celine had waved her arm and the shimmering dummies vanished without pause. She folded her hands together and turned to Mira and Zoey. "What you saw is only a small fraction of what the real demons are going to be like. You will be built to withstand it all together, not separate. Your voices and harmony are going to be the difference between success and doom." She paused and let her gaze take in all three teenagers.

Rumi panted heavily under the baking sunlight, her arms soaked in sweat and her eyes glinting with a fierceness that Mira both hated and wanted to replicate. 

"Rumi has been training for a very long time but there are things she can only learn with the two of you by her side, and vice versa." Celine's heavy attention flickered to Mira very briefly, then she turned and rested her fingers against the humming Honmoon behind her. "This is what keeps the world safe from Gwi-Ma. You will be Hunters, and you will ensure that he and his demons stay on the other side."

The memories were ones she could fondly look back on now; her defensive and protective walls that kept her safe with her family had slowly started to become less and less useful when Rumi and Zoey were involved.

She had put that energy, that need to guard and protect, into Rumi and Zoey. She was their shadow in all that they did and scarcely relaxed in public when they were with her.

It was cases like now that her guard-dog privilege, as Zoey titled it, came in handy. She held Rumi and kissed the top of her head until the shaking ceased and the sobs died down into sniffles.

Zoey had finished up in the kitchen by then and was rounding the couch with a subdued frown. She settled on Rumi's other side and placed a hand on the leader's knee, hoping it would add more comfort.

They let Rumi take her time and get what she needed out of her system out. Mira stayed steadfast in her position and had begun to scratch the dip in Rumi's spine up and down as Zoey tucked loose strands of purple hair behind Rumi's ears, speaking very softly to her.

Eventually Rumi got herself put together and pulled back a little bit from Mira's hold, leaving behind a damp spot on her shoulder as she wiped her raw and sore cheeks with her hoodie's sleeve.

"Okay," she rasped, "I'm . . . I'm ready to talk. But before I tell you everything, I just . . . please," her voice cracked and she cut herself off, gathering her thoughts and swallowing down another threatening sob, "please don't leave me when I tell you, even if . . . even if you're really mad."

Zoey and Mira met one another's shocked and concerned eyes at the same time, exchanging unspoken questions but remaining as calm as they could next to Rumi.

It was Mira who took the lead on this one, cupping her cheeks to dab her own sleeves against undried spots on Rumi's beautiful, stricken face. "We're never leaving you again, Rums," the pink-haired woman said, firm and strict in her conviction. "Never. Whatever you tell us will be handled with discussions. No yelling, no abandonment."

Zoey squeezed Rumi's thigh in agreement to Mira's assurances, burying her nose in purple hair that became mussed from it's loosened braid. 

Rumi sniffed once, but she believed them. Her girls.

"After you . . . after you raised your weapons at me and Jinu revealed his plans to me," Rumi started, "I somehow found myself at the temple."

Mira and Zoey waited through her pause and questioning glances. They knew she was giving them a chance to throw questions out in the air, but both of them were going to let Rumi say everything first this time around and then ask their questions.

She licked her lips, dry and burning from the salt in her tears. "I had teleported somehow -- a demon ability I had only just managed to use without understanding I was doing it. But that's not really the point. The point was I went to Celine after our confrontation."

Confrontation. Mira drew designs on Rumi's back, creating her own patterns to add to the skin that held Rumi's own. It wasn't a confrontation. It was our cowardice and fear. She never stood a chance.

Zoey nudged Mira's knee with her own behind Rumi, pulling her out of her spiral. She nodded once to Zoey, a thanks for interrupting what could become severely damaging.

"Go on, baby," Zoey murmured, pressing a kiss to Rumi's temple. "We're listening."

Rumi breathed in deep. "The first thing I did is get to my knees at her feet and pulled out my sword."

The realization of what was said struck Mira like a slap to the face. Rumi. On her knees with her sword --

"--I asked her to kill me. To do what she should have done when I was born."

A destroyed, broken whimper immediately left Zoey's lungs. Her forehead dropped on top of Rumi's head and suddenly the younger one had ripped Rumi away from Mira's loose embrace to her own. 

"Rumi," Mira whispered, devastated.

"I didn't know what else to do," Rumi continued, her explanations starting to increase rapidly and her patterns beginning to darken into that sickly black glow, "I thought I was losing you and everything else that kept me afloat for so long."

Mira leaned forward and curled her hands into Rumi's hoodie, eyes wide. She felt this uncomfortable, desperate tick that if she did not hold onto Rumi in some fashion she would disappear on her again. "Sweetheart . . ." She couldn't manage what her brain wanted her to express, words seemed too difficult.

Rumi let her eyes drop to avoid seeing the effect her admission had on her girls. "She couldn't do it. Obviously. She drags me to my feet and she -- she tried to cover them up again. Tried to get me to go back and convince you that it was a trick."

Would it have even worked? Would they have been able to go down that path had Rumi agreed?

"I was so . . . so tired. Of hiding. Of lying. Of manipulating the entire situation simply because my mother couldn't stand to touch me."

"You know what happens after," Rumi finishes. "I come back and we make the new Honmoon."

For a long while nobody said a word. Zoey was staring down at Rumi's fingers as she traced the patterns along the back of her palms but her thumb was shaky and couldn't stay inside of the lines. Mira couldn't look away from Rumi for a damn second -- she couldn't risk her Rumi being stolen away from her again.

Zoey sat the both of them up after they sat there for ten minutes. She shifted Rumi around to face her and Mira helped, only needing to keep her hands on Rumi. 

Rumi finds that warm hands are holding her just below her jaw, brushing her pulse-point and being so incredibly gentle. She can't help but lean into the touch. She knows a small pulse of gold briefly overtakes the black in her patterns.

"Rumi, can you look at me?" Zoey questions in such a soft voice that it scares her.

She opened her eyes but Zoey was blurry and her cheeks were warm with tears again.

"Hey pretty girl," Zoey whispers, allowing the hot drips of tears coat her hands like a cleansing. "You're okay. I am so, so proud of you for telling us. Even if it took a while you eventually got here. And you were so brave."

Rumi shudders beneath her girls and bit her lip to maintain her rapidly deteriorating mask. 

Zoey kept her hands still while Mira's arms once more wrapped around Rumi from behind and her palms splayed across Zoey and Rumi's intertwined legs. "Mira's proud of you, too," the maknae added, a small comforting kiss following on Rumi's cheekbone. 

"I am," Mira confirmed in her steadiest drawl possible, her face nuzzling into the side of Rumi's neck where her smell was strongest. "Thank you. For telling us. We did not realize . . . we knew it must have been very dark during that time."

"And we do not hold any of that against you," Zoey finished while pressing her forehead to Rumi's. "But . . . I need to know if you still feel that need. To . . ."

"No." The answer came quick and hard from Rumi and her head shook in Zoey's palms. "Not anymore. I -- not in that severity anyway."

"Can you elaborate?" Mira asked.'

"I don't . . . think I need to die anymore," Rumi told them hesitantly. She pulled her head from Zoey's hands and the American let her, lowering her hands to her own lap instead despite the way her fingers itched to be on Rumi. "But sometimes I get really anxious, everything becomes too much and not enough all in the same vein. I didn't expect this aspect to be in my life."

Mira and Zoey waited.

"I had . . . two ideas of what would've happened when we turned the Honmoon gold," Rumi admitted, voice dropping into shamed murmurs, "I would either be free of my patterns or I would . . . be banished like all demons. I did not think a third option -- this option -- existed. And now that I have it . . . I don't know how to process it. Like if I blink, it'll be gone. I'll be Gwi-Ma's slave."

Zoey's buildup of need, of deep and unleashed heat, exploded as she rushed forward and pulled Rumi into a heated kiss that Mira could hear with clashing teeth and surprised whines.

Rumi's shock was evident in her sprawled arms, one hand clutching the back of the couch and the other with flexing fingers grabbing onto nothing. At least until Zoey desperately sought it out blindly until fingers intertwined and Zoey guided Rumi's free arm around her own neck, deepening the kiss and earning squeaks and noises out of Rumi that Mira wanted to be the cause of too.

Watching them stuck in passion and a long-needed expression of adoration was captivating and Mira could not deny that she was engrossed at the sight, her fingers digging into their thighs as she watched.

Zoey broke the kiss first but both of them were panting and red and buzzing with desire and too many other emotions to count.

"I want -- I want you," Rumi breathed, her patterns forcefully drowning out the black and breaking into a pink and gold lightshow.

"Gods, we -- we've wanted you for so long, Rumi," Mira murmured as she began peppering kisses into their leader's neck. Light, teasing, as her hands began to move up and down their thighs. 

"Are you sure you want this?" Zoey asked, surprisingly clear as she sits up again with Rumi. "Because . . . you just told us something entirely painful and you're vulnerable--"

"Zoey," Rumi interrupts, her anxiety having been thrown out the window with the emergence of lust and affection, "shut up."

Zoey's eyes flashed but she obeyed, lunging forward and pulling Rumi by the braid into another hard, wet kiss.

Rumi fell into it, into her girls, with everything she had. Everything was hot and burned her from the inside out but she still needed more, needed to be turned to ash and borne anew with them at her side.

"I want," Rumi gasped between kisses while Mira suckled a dark bruise into her collar bone, "I want . . . I need . . ."

"We know," Mira replied lowly into her skin, refusing to leave her work to answer, "we'll give it to you."

She and Zoey shared a look. "Bedroom?"

Zoey nods once. "Bedroom."

 

So I stand back and I watch us fall

As we break everything inside these hotel walls

They decided on Zoey's room after Rumi was gently pushed back and forth between both hunters in a playful, seductive fashion. 

"You're the freak," Mira purred lightly as she placed cool hands under Rumi's sweater again and settled them just above the hem of her sweats, fingers tracing in a taunting manner, "I think your room fits for what our plans are."

Zoey spluttered out at being so blatantly insulted but Mira won the battle anyway. She went back and forth between them until Zoey pushed her down onto the bed and twisted her fingers around the hoodie strings and pulled. Rumi followed as Zoey swung a leg over her hips and straddled the half-demon with a smirk rising across her freckled features.

"You're so pretty, Unnie," Zoey tells her as she pulled the hoodie strings taught and they were nose-to-nose. "And so red for me and Mira."

Rumi whined, chasing Zoey's lips with hers but the maknae adverted her just enough that they never brushed. She tsked and suddenly her thumb was circling the outside of Rumi's lips. "You're being needy."

"Did you expect her to be anything else, Zo?" Mira chuckled as she rounded the bed like a large cat. Her dark eyes were like twin black holes, consuming everything close to them. Rumi was their latest victim. Her head dropped back slightly so she could keep watching the dancer and almost shivered when Mira slipped her pants down and revealed her toned legs and lacy underwear. 

"Oh look at her, baby." Zoey pushed her finger past Rumi's lips in her dazed distraction and habit forced Rumi to suck the appendage in, teeth grazing so carefully along the skin. "Mira's so beautiful, isn't she?"

Rumi could not speak, could only produce animalistic sounds of agreement as her head remained bent so she could peer upside down at her.

Mira's shirt went next and she crawled onto the bed until her knees were on either side of Rumi's head. She bent down at the same time Zoey removed her thumb to kiss Rumi in such a soft, unrushed manner. Her hands slid down Rumi's shoulders and grasped the hem of her hoodie. She nipped Rumi's lip as she pulled back. "Can we take this off, baby?"

Rumi nodded shakily, awe in her eyes and her nose brushing Mira's inner thigh close to where Rumi knew wetness waited.

"Can you answer?" Mira pushed sweetly, tapping her sternum under the garment.

"Y-yes. Please take it off," Rumi murmurs.

Mira smiled widely and kissed her again. "Good girl."

The kiss lasted only a few seconds but the praised sent a bright glow of pink along her patterns, and both of them noticed it as the hoodie came off. 

Zoey almost lost her composure at what sight she was greeted with. Rumi was not wearing a bra.

Rumi was not wearing a bra.

For a beat, all three of them remained still and Mira and Zoey's gazes ran along Rumi's body with hunger that she worried wouldn't be so easily satiated.

She was right.

"We need," Zoey began, sounding as if she was restraining herself and not doing so well at it, "to go over some rules. Mm'kay?"

Rumi and Mira both nodded.

"First things first," Zoey said as her hips resettled on top of Rumi and her clothed chest brushed against Rumi's hard nipples. Nipples she wanted to touch, suck, hold, slobber over.

She was no better than a man.

"First things first?" Mira drawled with amusement, catching Zoey losing focus to stare at a half-naked Rumi beneath her.

"Um." Zoey blinked. Finally moved to stare at her girls' faces instead. Because she needed to get a grip. "Safewords. I want to establish them now before we go any further. Do you know what a safeword is, Rumi?"

Shyly, the older woman shook her head.

"A safeword is pretty much how it sounds," the freckled lyricist explains as she brushes hair out of Rumi's face, "It has to be a word you wouldn't really call out during sex, because sometimes 'no' during a scene can muddy what you really mean in the thick of it. We wouldn't ever ignore you if you were uncomfortable, but sometimes things get so intense that 'no' in this context is not the same as 'no' in others. Consent is extremely important," she added firmly with a hardened edge to her tone, "and we won't ever touch you without it. The safeword will stop anything we're doing no matter what it is. And for whatever reason you or even Mira and I use it, it will not be punished. Everything ends and we will move into aftercare."

Mira threw in, "The traffic light system is the most popular example. Green for 'this is okay, you can keep going,' while yellow is 'can we slow down? I need a moment to process or discuss what's happening,' or 'I really need a break'." She waited for Rumi to give them a sign that she understood. When she did, Mira finishes, "Red means, 'I need to stop, I do not feel safe or uncomfortable continuing this scene,'. A safeword does the same thing as Red does, it just has a different name. We ask that you do not hold back using your words if we check in or you suddenly become upset. None of this will feel good if you don't feel good. Make sense?"

"Yes, I understand," Rumi responds, serious with lips pursed. Zoey wanted to destroy her.

But she couldn't do that yet. So she kisses the corner of those pursed lips and smiled at her. "Good girl. We'll use the traffic light system but I'd really like to have another word for stop so you have a safety net."

"Okay."

"Make it something that . . ." Zoey scrunched her nose, smashing her freckles together, ". . . something you wouldn't call out during sex. Something crazy. Mine's turtle."

Rumi couldn't stop the barking laugh that resulted in that admission, heart filling with adoration for Zoey. "Turtle?"

Zoey sticks her tongue out. "Duh. Who would say that word knuckle-deep inside of someone?"

"Zoey." Mira's eyes drifted to the ceiling as she fought her own chuckles. 

Zoey's hands lifted up in a 'what' motion. "I'm just saying."

"Derpy."

"Derpy?"

"My safeword . . . I want it to be Derpy," Rumi clarified, nodding like she just completed a great task. 

"Derpy it is," Mira murmured. 

"So . . ." Rumi's anticipation was so cute, but Zoey needed to ask a few more questions.

"We'll get there," Zoey purrs as she ran fingertips tauntingly up and down Rumi's ribcage. "The next thing I want to get aside is limits. Things you think you'll like and others you're absolutely not touching."

"Um." Rumi flushed and Zoey was pleased to see it went all the way down her body. "I don't . . . know? I liked what we did a couple of weeks ago."

Zoey tapped her chin. "Dirty talk, praise, grinding."

"Yeah." Rumi was adoringly shy. 

Mira rests her chin on Rumi's shoulder, nibbling the skin there. "So let's build off of that. Do you want to try penetration?"

Rumi squeaks, eyes darting everywhere but the girls in her space. "Um -- yeah, I think so. I haven't ever . . . I'm not . . ."

"We know," Mira answers, blessingly cutting her off. "We'll go slow."

"You liked when I stuck my thumb in your mouth," Zoey considers, reaching up to trace her lips again. "Didn't you?"

Rumi nods and the action causes the tip of Zoey's thumb to dip just behind her lips and graze her teeth. Zoey smiles in satisfaction. "That's my good girl."

Rumi was going to burst into flames.

Zoey pulled her thumb back and tapped her own chin, still wet with Rumi's saliva. "Let's see . . . we won't go too hard on you tonight, so let's stick with the basics. Can we play with your breasts? Eat you out? Maybe give you lots of orgasms?"

Rumi said yes to each one, furthering the dominant women's inquiries. Mira was next, "Biting? Scratching?"

Rumi agreed.

"Okay, what do you not want us to do?" the pinkhead asked, kissing the bruise she applied to Rumi's patterned shoulder. "It won't hurt our feelings or make us mad if you tell us you don't want to try something now or at all."

"Maybe no . . . maybe no saying hurtful things?" Rumi said timidly, teeth digging inside of her cheek, "Um . . . I don't want to be blindfolded or . . . or restrained. Not yet, at least?"

Both of her girls had the most stern faces as she listed those things off. It was Zoey who places her hands on Rumi's hips as she scooted even closer. "Then we won't even touch those aspects," she promises. "Not a single one. And as we continue this -- maybe not tonight -- we can keep introducing ideas for you to think of trying. Tonight is about you. Our love and absolute dedication to you."

Rumi blinked with stars glittering in her eyes. Zoey wished she could count all of them and keep them forever lit just for Rumi. 

Instead she lowered her face until she and Rumi were sharing breaths, "Color, baby?"

"Green."

"Green what?" Zoey wasn't sure where she was going with this, but she wanted to test Rumi's pressure levels. If they were anything like the levels their leader had to maintain for their idol facades, she had a feeling they wouldn't be easily bendable. 

Rumi seemed confused and honestly, so did Mira. She raised an eyebrow at the younger woman in question. 

Zoey bit her lip until Rumi managed to figure out what Zoey wanted, "Green . . . daddy."

Mira went slack behind Rumi and Zoey's head emptied of all reason, only leaving behind the breathless and unsure daddy, daddy, daddy.

Zoey's hand raked through Rumi's nearly undone braid and snarls out, low and broken, "Good fucking girl," and pulled her into a heated kiss.

She had expected Rumi to find something to answer with, perhaps just her name or nothing at all, but daddy was not what Zoey thought Rumi would decide on. How she even got to that was something she'd annoy Rumi over at another time. But her girl was so vulnerable and sensitive right now -- and the last thing she would do is discourage Rumi from opening her battered soul only to be turned away.

Zoey will become whatever Rumi wants, will sign her life into the role she desires.

Daddy was new but it felt so right, from the way she pushes her core against Rumi's stomach as the shorter hunter forces Mira to gently guide Rumi onto her back, down to the little noises Rumi produced under the force.

"So fucking soft," Zoey breathed as she trailed her fingers on every part of her body she could get to. The undersides of Rumi's rounded breasts, the hard points of her nipples. All the while Rumi gasped out and dug her fingers into the comforter below her with so much force that there was a tear in the fabric. "Do you want Daddy to play with you, baby?"

Rumi jerked her hips on instinct, sending shockwaves straight through Zoey's pulsing clit as both of them sought traction.

She glanced up to find Mira a visible mess, her eyes sharpened on the spot where Zoey and Rumi's hips met. 

A wicked idea crosses her mind and she leans forward until their fronts were pressed tightly. "I think we should get you undressed, and then you can watch Mommy help me undress."

It flipped the correct switch for all three of them. Rumi babbled something incoherent and needy, reaching down as Zoey lifted upwards so she could slip her sweatpants and underwear off of her legs with the help of the rapper. Zoey briefly spotted the large wet spot on Rumi's underwear but did not comment on it. Priorities.

Zoey slid off her legs and stood in front of the bed, keeping her posture lazy and pleased as she made a come hither motion at Mira. "C'mere, Mommy. Let's give our babygirl a show."

Without saying a goddamn thing but revealing all of the things in her body language, Mira slipped out from under Rumi's hot body and stalks over to Zoey, trying her best to look more together than she felt.

Mira towered over Zoey and it was always a point of teasing within their little group and with the fans. But somehow, someway, Zoey radiated a dominance that overshadowed Mira's height by miles. She places a palm flat on Mira's chest, stopping her from closing in. She fingered the front clip of Mira's bra and smiled slowly. "You're still way too dressed as well."

Mira narrowed her eyes. "Then take it off."

Zoey laughed. "Is that an order, Mommy?"

Rumi was propped on her elbows trying to not implode at the exchange Zoey and Mira were having. She was still not sure where the titles came from but something feral had taken over her hindbrain and had spit out Daddy before she could stop it. The worst part? She did not have it in her to give a shit. The shame that she would have felt was squashed by overwhelming need.

Her chest lifted and lowered with her uncontrolled breathing, her thighs pressed together to garner some form of pleasure without actually reaching down to touch herself.

Zoey was naked.

Oh Gods. Zoey. Was. Naked. Her arm lifted to sift through her shorter black hair, smug smirk lazy on her face. She had a tattoo on the dip of her hip that led to her pelvis of a school of turtles. Rumi wanted to lick the design, nibble on each detail until she made indents.

And they were ignoring her -- but it didn't feel like that. She knew they had some sort of sideways focus on her prone place in the middle of the bed, but they acted like she wasn't there as Zoey dropped to her knees and with her teeth, pulled down Mira's panties in agonizingly slow motion.

The sight was beyond erotic. It was something else entirely. Zoey releases the panties to let them fall around Mira's ankles on their own as she kisses her way up Mira's legs in a brutally slow trail, sometimes stopping to show extra attention to a spot that she thought needed it. Mira's hands dropped and buried in Zoey's hair, not directing but holding onto something for her own benefit. 

Rumi was entranced by this show of devotion Zoey was expertly putting on for her. Zoey paused just above Mira's mound, the curls soaked and showing a glint in the light of the morning's glow. She looked up at Mira, blew a breath over her clit, and continued upward. She nipped her hipbones and licked the crease between her abs. It was a dance that Zoey was mastered at and she was giving Rumi a private performance. "Hey," Mira suddenly said, breaking the trance. She pulled at Zoey's hair until her mouth was detached from her skin. "Enough. Tonight's about our little pathetic babygirl, remember?"

And oh did that suddenly remind Rumi she, too, was still there soaked and throbbing in places she needed soothed. 

Zoey licked her lips as she finally returned to her feet and brought Mira into a hot, furious kiss.

Mira allowed it without removing her fingers from the messy tangles of Zoey's hair, jerking her closer and increasing the intensity of the kiss. 

Only Rumi's unintentional whine drew them out of each other, turning to face their girl. 

Zoey moves first, sliding into the crevice of Rumi's body like she belonged there.

She did belong there, Rumi was realizing, and so did Mira.

Zoey stared at her and Rumi stared back, their heavy breaths echoing against each other's stomachs. "Color?" Zoey asked, quiet.

"Green . . . Daddy."

It happened faster than Rumi expected. Fingers crawled down in quick, little movements until they found the wet heat of Rumi's pussy. She was absolutely drenched and the way Zoey's eyes lit up at her findings did things to Rumi. She clenched her legs around Zoey's arm but the maknae turned to Mira. "Grab her ankles."

Mira dropped to the end of the bed behind Zoey and with a firm, iron grip, pried Rumi's legs open at the ankle. "Gotta stay open for Daddy, lovely."

Rumi whined and had nowhere to go as Zoey explored the outside of Rumi with no urgency. She brushed them along her outer lips, which Rumi realizes are sensitive and locks up under the shivers it gives her body. "Does it feel good?" Zoey asked as she kept up her ministrations while her other hand took one of Rumi's breasts and began to brush the areola.

Rumi hummed and moaned but she wasn't giving Zoey the verbal reply she sought, so she took the nipple in two fingers and pinched.

Rumi yelped and pulled at Mira's unmoving hold. "Daddy asked you a question and she expects an answer," Zoey warns. "Let's try again."

She released the nub and went back to what she was doing. "Does it feel good?"

"Y-yes," Rumi whined out, head turning away so she didn't have to see Zoey's satisfied look. 

"Yes..?" Zoey crooned as she began to lick at the exposed jugular.

"Daddy! Yes, Daddy!" Rumi breaks out, unable to contain the overwhelming sensations.

Zoey smiled into her skin and sank one finger inside of Rumi.

 

We're just grains in the universe

I let that comfort me when I'm anxious

This life is beautifully ugly at times

It hurt.

If Mira wasn't keeping her held open, she was positive she would have gotten Zoey into an almost painful grip with her thighs.

The neurons in her brain were lighting up as different pathways forced her body into feeling so much in too little time.

Rumi made a sound somewhere between pain and relief as Zoey's finger slowly intruded and came to a stop, the maknae's body stilling atop her as silence clouded the three of them with electric currents zapping Rumi's skin.

"I know," Zoey whispered in turn to Rumi's unsure gasps. "I know, I'm sorry. I'll be gentle. Slow. Color?"

Rumi let herself think, truly think, about it. It didn't feel great at first, but she knew Zoey and Mira would rather gouge their own eyeballs out with a rusty spoon before intentionally causing her any harm.

It was that thought alone and the way her body needed her girls that drove her to whisper back, "Green. Please."

Zoey's ribcage shuddered with the release of the breath she'd been holding in. Then her lips were soft and on Rumi's and the hand cupped around her breast drifted to the side of Rumi's neck with achingly gentle tenderness.

"Can I move?"

Rumi nodded.

Zoey said nothing at first, throwing herself into ensuring that she didn't hurt Rumi as she began to pull out and thrust back in. Rumi's jaw dropped but no sound came, too overwhelmed by the sparks of pleasure that overtook her every time Zoey's fingers brushed around her tight walls and the heel of her palm bumped her clit.

"You're taking me so well," Zoey whispers with reverence as she moved at one speed, not willing to take it any further than Rumi could handle.

Rumi sobbed out something, but she didn't know what. All she could do was clutch Zoey's arms and move with the thrusts of a tool finely tuned to her needs.

"You're so perfect and no matter what happens after tonight, you're going to always be Mommy and Daddy's girl," Zoey continues as a second finger began to edge in next to the first. Rumi took it and almost keened at the added stimulation it provided.

"Would you like that?" Mira asked from Rumi's feet, raspy and taken apart just from watching Zoey fuck Rumi. "Would you like Mommy and Daddy to take care of you?"

"Yes," Rumi sobbed out, pushing her hips the best she could down to meet Zoey's fingers, to keep the pressure of her hand on her clit, to get anything as she raced towards that edge. "Yes, yes, yes, yes--"

"Then come for us, baby," Zoey whispered as she places featherlight kisses behind Rumi's ear, "Come for Mommy and Daddy to prove it."

This orgasm struck her differently than the night on the couch. It was all-consuming and raked rapid white-hot streaks of pleasure down her spine, and when she thought it would stop it would come back with more strength. She was loud, she was sobbing as Zoey removed her hand from her chest and pressed down on her abdomen to keep her still as she chased for another one.

Two orgasms, three -- Zoey took advantage of Rumi's oversensitivity and kept her constantly in a state of pleasure and brokenness and when Rumi collapsed after the fourth orgasm, quick and barely there to be enjoyed, Zoey finally went still.

Mira releases her hold on Rumi as soon as Zoey pulled out, soothing the older of the three when her fingers brushed her walls and sent aftershocks through her spent body.

Zoey's hand was soaked, but she couldn't find it in her to care as she took in Rumi's foggy eyes and throbbing patterns.

"So good, so fucking good." Zoey brushed against her heated skin and Rumi whined, trying to pull away. "We're done, baby, it's over. We're done."

Rumi sank back into Zoey's hold as Mira went to get aftercare started. Zoey tilted Rumi's face to hers and pulled sticky strands of her long hair away from her face and neck, keeping an eye on her for any signs of discomfort. She was deep into whatever state they'd suspended her in and Zoey couldn't help but question if she'd gone too far, hadn't checked in enough.

Zoey swallowed and held Rumi close, offering her comfort until Mira returned with her laptop, snacks, and drinks. She dropped all of the items on her bed and noticed Zoey's distant focus. "Zoey," Mira stated hesitantly, crouching down on the floor so she was level to her girlfriend, "go change and come right back for aftercare. All of us need it. All of us."

Mira had only experienced a dom-drop once when she sessioned with Zoey. It was terrifying and she was on edge for days until Zoey figured out what was wrong with her and threw them both into a second session of aftercare that was dedicated to Mira. Mira knew the signs, knew the way in which Zoey held too tightly on Rumi who was in subspace and not completely down from it.

"Zoey."

The American blinked, fuzziness clearing behind her eyes. Mira ran soft contact up and down her bare arm. "Go to the bathroom, clean up, and then we'll pull Rumi down okay?"

Zoey blinked and slowly, hesitantly, loosened her grip around the submissive. "Okay," she whispered.

Mira nodded. "Okay."

Zoey slipped out of her spot and waited until Mira had settled in with Rumi against her chest before taking shaky steps to her attached bathroom, hurrying to clean herself up so she could get back to Rumi and Mira.