Archive of Our Own

Mira is exhausted.

It’s her own fault—she’s spent the entire day out, first in a shoot, then off on ‘errands’ that she insisted were time-specific. They notably were not, in fact, time-specific, but she just...can’t be in the penthouse. Not today. Not now. 

Being out of her home is arguably worse for a myriad of reasons: she misses Rumi and Zoey; she hasn’t been out for this long prior to the Idol Awards; it’s Valentine’s day, and every single place she looks is full of hearts and pretty flowers and love declarations and all the things she wishes she could give, or have, or experience in the slightest.

With Rumi and Zoey.

Obviously. It's always been them, and Mira knows it always will be. How could it not be them?

And it’s fine that they don’t feel the same, or whatever. Mira’s fine with it. It’s not like they owe her anything, and they especially don’t owe her this. It hasn’t even been a year since the Idol Awards, either. Things have gone back to normal—more than normal, really, if Rumi’s sudden inclination to touch and other physical affection is anything to go by—but Mira still can’t choke down the bone-deep guilt that likes to flare up at the most inconvenient times. Like, sure, maybe Rumi has directly forgiven both her and Zoey a thousand times over. Sure, maybe Zoey has forgiven her more than a million times for what happened after Rumi bolted. And, okay, maybe they’ve had more talks with Celine over the last seven months than they’ve had in the last, what, seven years? But that doesn’t mean her grief or guilt has settled. Not really.

It’s getting better, though. It’s clearly gotten manageable enough that Mira can focus on her other dozens of problems, the ones that make her feel pathetic and small and stupid, like being deeply in love with her two best friends who can’t feel the same way about her. She would know if they did; Zoey is a terrible actor with a horrible poker face, and Rumi is...admittedly really, really bad at lying, which makes the whole demon thing particularly embarrassing for all three of them.

Mira would know. She would know, and she knows that they do love her, just not in the way she loves them. She’s trying to actually accept that, to hammer it into her head that she needs to stop holding out onto any sort of hope. She just needs to choke it down, push it out of her thoughts, let it settle somewhere in her chest. She doesn’t need to keep fixating on it, and she’s definitely not going to risk breaking the somewhat-fragile steadiness they’ve finally managed to get back into.

They’re still on hiatus, with both Bobby and Celine, surprisingly enough, pushing for them to go for longer. Mira isn’t really complaining about the time off, especially since she gets to spend all of that time with Rumi and Zoey, but that’s part of where the problem is coming from—she spends all of her time with Rumi and Zoey. Quite literally all of it. The only time they’re apart is when they sleep, and even that isn’t completely true.

They’ve taken to sleeping in the same bed more often than not. If they’re not sleeping in the same bed, there’s a good chance they’re sleeping on the couch, or in the living room together. Mira has both clung to the newfound affection and has been left burned by it, because it only serves as another reminder of what she wants, of what she can’t have, of what she’ll never have.

Mira sighs.

The party she’s found herself in is...fine. She’s mostly avoided talking to anyone, offering up vague excuses on why Rumi and Zoey aren’t with her. It’s a little telling that the three of them are so intertwined that it’s practically a shock when they’re split off from each other, or when only one of them is within eyesight. Mira has been tempted to text the both of them about a thousand times to tell them that already, but she’s kept her phone firmly settled in her pockets.

She doesn’t know why she hasn’t texted. She just feels weird about it. Clingy, maybe. She can go a few hours without talking to them, or without thinking about them, it’s not like they have to be involved in every single part and aspect of her life. The thought admittedly makes her sort of sick, and so Mira pretends like she didn’t think it at all.

She didn’t even get dressed up for this, and she knows Rumi and Zoey know that. They saw her leaving in an outfit that absolutely didn’t match where she was going, and she’s already expecting a thousand questions. She already saw their matching looks of ‘we’ll talk about this later’, and she’s not looking forward to the conversation she knows she’s not going to be able to avoid, no matter how hard she tries.

She just couldn’t be there. Not right now. Any other day and it would be fine, but Mira just can’t do it tonight. 

Being here isn’t really helping in the way she had hoped it would.

She danced with a few people only to feel sick in the back of her throat. She hasn’t even picked up a drink, because getting blackout drunk—while it would solve her problem of having to be present and reminded of everything—isn’t exactly all that appealing either. Plus, there’s literally no fucking world where she gets shitfaced and then has to call Zoey to pick her up, or, worse, call Bobby. He’d probably come and get her himself, and Mira just can’t...take that.

Mira lingers on the outskirts of the dancing, trying not to pace like a particularly unenriched, caged tiger. The thought only brings Rumi to the forefront of her mind, her patterns and sudden affliction for outright purring springing to life in Mira’s head. Rumi is deeply insistent that the whole purring thing is actually just her rumbling, which is basically the same thing, but whatever. Mira has let her get away with it because she’s in love with her, but Zoey doesn’t have any problem with laughing at her and comparing her to a very tame, very domesticated housecat. 

She misses them.

Mira misses them, and she’s half-tempted to just turn around and leave this stupid party and go back home and spend the rest of her night with them. Rumi and Zoey promised they weren’t going to be up to much, but they did specifically ask when she was going to come back, which they never do unless they were actually going to be doing something. That thought has been eating at her for hours now, because what are they doing that they can’t do with her? And it’s not...she doesn’t have to be involved in every little thing they do. They don’t need to be as stupidly codependent as they are. It’s fine if they have split interests, or different hobbies, or whatever.

It just sort of feels like a massive slap in the face, and Mira’s having a harder time than she should be with it. They didn’t ask her to stay out until a certain time, but it was clear that’s what they were going for. Mira guesses the downsides of knowing them so well is being able to know when they don’t want her around. 

Today being Valentine’s day is equally not helping. It’s just a stupid, made up date to celebrate, but Mira has always been a little more into that kind of thing. She knows the date when she met Rumi, she knows when they met Zoey, she knows when they debuted and when they toured for the first time and the dates of each country they stepped foot in for the first time. She has a few dozen little anniversaries carefully tucked away in her mind, and it stings to call them that, even if that’s technically what they are.

Maybe she should get drunk. 

Mira flexes her fingers, pausing suddenly when she feels her phone buzz once in her pocket.

She immediately waits for the second and third text to follow, because Rumi never texts Mira if she’s out doing something unless it’s a complete emergency, and even then, she usually communicates through the honmoon rather than via text; Zoey, on the other hand, has absolutely no qualms with texting her if she’s out, and usually will send at least a dozen or so texts before Mira makes it back home. It’s something Mira has always looked forward to, even if she hasn’t said it out loud.

Those extra texts never come, which means it has to be Rumi texting her. 

The thought sends a wave of anxiety straight through her. Mira stands taller, swallowing past the lump in her throat, shifting uncomfortably on the balls of her feet. She tries to act casual when she lets her hands relax by her sides, splaying them out just enough so she can brush over the threads of the honmoon. 

Shockingly enough, the honmoon ripples indigently under her touch. It’s effectively the same as being told no.

Mira scoffs under her breath, spinning on her heel as she stalks toward the nearest bathroom. It doesn’t take her very long to slip away, shutting and locking the door behind her as she lets out another frustrated noise.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Mira hisses out through gritted teeth, glaring at the iridescent waves that swirl around her. She reaches out again, wrapping the threads around her fingers, tugging a little harder to intentionally send a ripple toward Rumi and Zoey. A question, an answer, a ‘do you need me?’ call. 

The honmoon doesn’t even move. It just buzzes at her in response, detangling itself from her fingers. It ebbs out of her hands like water, and no matter how many times Mira tries to dig her nails into it, it just won’t let her. Mira is half-tempted to summon her woldo and remind the honmoon that she is literally a hunter, that it literally chose her, and that cutting off her inherent communication with its two other hunters is beyond fucked up, but she manages to resist.

Mira draws in a deep breath, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “Okay. Are you just fucking with me, or did I screw up?”

She guesses it kind of has to be the second option. The honmoon has been finicky ever since the Idol Awards, ever since Rumi...

Regardless.

The honmoon has started to act out. Nothing major, but it’s obvious that it’s displeased with how Mira and Zoey handled that situation, which Mira gets, but still. The honmoon normally lets her communicate through it to the two of them, and Mira is certainly no stranger to receiving little messages from Rumi or Zoey, but apparently something has changed. 

The note that the honmoon always sings in shifts, just a little. Suddenly, it sounds a lot less like their melody, and a lot more like a completely different voice that Mira hasn’t heard since she managed to connect to the honmoon. It drifts through her ears, bouncing off the walls, ebbing through her mind as it settles tentatively at the base of her throat. It sounds a lot like someone insisting, “Trust them.”

Mira swears to god that she’s going to be the world’s first hunter to defect. She glowers at the iridescent threads that dance along the room, vibrating softly, clearly trying to spur her on. Mira tips her head back with a low groan, pulling her phone out of her pocket in one sharp motion. She squeezes her eyes shut for half a second before she finally caves, tilting her head back down to force herself to—

It’s Rumi. 

Just the one text, still.

ru

we miss you :(

Mira blinks. 

She looks back at the honmoon, ignoring its irritating trilling—clearly its way of effectively victory lapping her—as she stares down at the text. She burns the words into her mind, practically able to hear Rumi mumbling them. She replays that just about another thousand times, feeling the way her heart catches in her throat, how she can feel all of the tension fade from her body.

It’s replaced with a restless kind of energy that Mira knows won’t be satiated until she goes back home, back to them. She doesn’t even hesitate in turning on her heel, leaving the bathroom and making a direct beeline for the door. She quickly texts Bobby to call her a car, shoving her phone in her pocket a second later. As soon as she’s outside, Mira reaches back out to the threads of the honmoon, twisting them over her finger, watching as the waves ripple and ebb. Pure gold spills out from where she had been touching it, and she watches the way it drifts out farther and farther from her, fading until it’s entirely out of sight.

The honmoon gives her another pleased trill, ebbing up her legs, buzzing excitedly under her feet. Message received—message delivered.

Mira lets out a quiet breath of relief, dragging her hands down her face, then through her hair. She doesn’t understand how Rumi lives with the honmoon constantly parading around behind her heels like a particularly clingy cat. She definitely doesn’t get the way that Zoey seems to be able to inherently understand it, or how she’s so insistent on speaking the same language it does. The honmoon, for her, has always just been...there. It makes demands of her, and it listens when she demands stuff from it too, but only sometimes. It’s obvious that she understands it the least, but she can at least work this part out in her head.

Mira thinks she should be embarrassed about how one text was all it took for her to cave and to go back home, but she’s kind of proud of herself for making it until there was even a text in the first place. She doesn’t think there’s a world where she doesn’t completely drop all of her plans to come running back home to Rumi and Zoey, to go back where she belongs, where she desperately wants to be. 

Rumi’s text makes her head spin the longer she thinks about it. They miss her? Maybe that should’ve been obvious, with how the honmoon is rippling all pathetically and sadly, like it’s dejected or something, but...still. Mira knows they had plans, or that they at least wanted to do something without her in the house, and...it’s not like she doesn’t think they love her. Obviously they do, she’s had seven years to get that battered into her head. She knows they love her, but that doesn’t mean they have to want her around all the time the same way she does, or—

Mira blinks at the car that pulls up beside her. Bobby must have had that ready to go.

She slinks in without saying much of anything, pulling her phone out again as she stares down at the message Rumi sent. Rumi, not Zoey. It has her head spinning even harder to realise that Rumi was the one who sent it, because Rumi literally never, under any circumstance, will text her if she’s out. Mira thinks the only exception to that rule of hers had been when Zoey wasn’t in the penthouse and the honmoon started to freak out, but even that had been followed by about a thousand little ripples sent in Mira’s direction, on top of a panicked phone call from Rumi not even a second later.

It makes her feel a little warm to think that Rumi and Zoey missing her is apparently on the same level as worrying that one of them had gotten hurt, or something. As soon as she has that thought, Mira feels like she’s been plunged into ice, her own thoughts echoing through her head—they can’t feel the same, they don’t feel the same, she knows that. She knows them. She knows this isn’t what she wants it to be, and that’s...it’s fine. It’s fine. 

She’ll take this. If this is how they want her, she’ll happily fall right into place. If this is all she gets for the rest of her life, Mira will be happy about it, because at least she gets to have them at all, in any capacity. That’s more than she could have ever asked for to begin with, and she’s not going to be ungrateful.

Mira distantly has the thought that maybe she should have brought something back. Like flowers, or chocolate, or something. It’s not like she’d even have to go very far or try very hard to find something cute to get them. She’s, like, ninety percent certain that she could just stop at literally any store and come out with an entire arsenal of Valentine’s day-esque supplies. She’s been wanting to buy them more things, anyway.

Is that weird?

Mira grimaces, twisting her head so she can scowl out of her window. Maybe it’s weird. It could be totally platonic, sure, whatever, but it’s—it isn’t for her, so it’s probably weird. And she’s never been that good at hiding stuff from them in the first place, especially not with the no lying rule they’ve introduced, so if they ask even a little, Mira’s going to end up spilling, and she doesn’t want to be the one to fuck things up all the time. 

Just this once, she doesn’t want to have to be the one who ruins everything for all three of them.

The rest of the drive is spent with Mira staring out of her window, glaring at the streets and buildings and scattered clusters of people. She bounces her leg without really meaning to, tapping her fingers along the edge of her door, anxiously waiting for another text, or for the honmoon to tell her something, or for anything at all to change without her having to be the one to push for it.

Nothing does. The ride is silent, and then she’s being dropped off right outside the tower, and that’s that. 

Mira stares at the tower for a few seconds, wringing her hands behind her back before she sighs and caves. It takes her a little longer than it should to actually get inside, and then it takes even longer for her to step into the stupid elevator to go up to the penthouse. 

She wants to. She wants nothing more than to be there with them, but she just feels...stupid, maybe. Stupid and needy and clingy, even if Rumi had been the one to reach out and say that they were missing her. It’s just different when it’s them, and it’s different when it’s her. Mira knows it shouldn’t be, but there’s also a difference between knowing and actually putting it into practice, and...

Whatever.

Mira forces herself to quit stalling, pressing on into the elevator, letting her head tip back and knock against the wall behind her. She squeezes her eyes shut as the elevator rumbles around her, focusing on the faint feeling of vertigo that dances along the edges of her mind rather than what waits for her on the other side of the door.

Admittedly, she doesn’t have very long to prepare before the doors are opening with a soft ‘ding’, and Mira...

The hallway leading in is covered in rose petals. Mira can’t help but let out a disbelieving laugh, dropping down into a crouch to pick one up. Real ones, she decides, rubbing her fingers over the base of the petal. She carefully puts it back down where it was, pushing herself up to her feet again. She quickly tosses off her shoes, setting her bag down by the door before she continues into the penthouse.

It doesn’t take very long for her to realise that the entire place is decorated, floor-to-ceiling.

Balloons, an archway of roses—these ones aren’t real, Mira can tell—a few dozen candles where half of them are mismatched and uneven and the other half are neat and deliberate. It’s so ridiculously Zoey and Rumi that it makes her grin, fondness settling deep in her chest.

Mira loops the corner that leads into the living room, blinking a few times at the way Zoey and Rumi suddenly jolt, snapping their heads around to look at her. 

“Hey...?” Mira cautiously offers, studying them for a few seconds longer. She pulls out her phone, waving it back and forth. “Got your text.”

“Mira!” Zoey cheers, looking at her with a wide, unabashed grin. “Hi! How was the party? And your shoot? And all those mysterious errands you had to run? We didn’t—honestly, I thought you’d be out for, like, way longer.”

Mira swallows past the odd feeling of discomfort that has her feeling. “Yeah?” she asks instead, shifting on her feet. “I can wait in the lobby, or whatever. Since you’re clearly...”

She waves a hand, looking at all of the decorations. It doesn’t take her very long to piece together the fact that Zoey and Rumi are standing shoulder to shoulder, that they both clearly weren’t actually expecting her.

So Rumi and Zoey don’t feel the same about her, but it definitely seems like they feel the same about each other. 

It...makes sense. Mira understands. She gets it. She just wishes it didn’t sting as much as it does.

Rumi makes a noise, shaking her head rapidly. “No. No, we’re good! We’re—we’re good,” she rushes out, clearing her throat. “Um, hi! How was...how was everything?” 

Mira stares at the two of them for a few seconds, trying to choke down the embarrassment she can already feel creeping up on her. “It was fine. Sorry for, like, interrupting, or whatever. It looks good,” she mumbles, twisting her head to the side. “Pretty. Very...Valentine’s day.”

“Oh my god,” Zoey mutters, uncharacteristically short, no padding to the words. It’s enough to make Mira snap her head back up, blinking rapidly at the way Zoey looks at her as if she’s stupid. “It’s for you.”

Mira sort of feels like she’s been slapped.

“Zoey!” Rumi hisses, lighting up like the actual sun. It’s almost impressive how bright she gets, how her patterns start ebbing and rippling with different colours, all varying shades of red and pink. “You—you said—!”

“Yeah, well, things change, Rumi!” Zoey snaps back, though she lacks any actual venom in her voice. “Also, I’m not a patient person! Like, at all! I am not waiting for another, what, ten billion years?”

“Okay, it hasn’t—”

“It’s basically been ten billion years!” 

“Okay, I get that, but—”

“Don’t argue with me!” Zoey rushes out, voice catching on her own laugh. “And you.”

Mira feels kind of like a cornered animal with the way Zoey turns to face her directly, finger jabbed at her chest. She shifts back and forth, trying to process the last thirty or so seconds fast enough to give a coherent response to...anything that’s been said. For her? Waiting? And the two of them, they’re both looking at her, and...

Rumi is suddenly a lot closer than she had been, gently hooking one of her arms into Mira’s. She tugs, effectively pulling her to the couch. Mira stumbles over her own feet for a second, but she’s quick to right herself, walking the rest of the way rather than letting herself be dragged. She sits down when Rumi does, shifting just a bit away from her, knees drawn up to her chest as she tries to get her mind and body caught up to the same points.

“For me?” Mira eventually asks, figuring that specific question might solve almost all of her problems.

Zoey settles on the edge of the coffee table, nodding. “Yup. For you. We kinda figured we’d have enough time to, you know, make the place look good! And then, um, we—”

“—Zoey,” Rumi corrects, “Procrastinated.”

“It wasn’t procrastinating,” Zoey mutters. “I just figured we still had a ton of stuff left over from last year, right? And we did! Just, um, y’know, less of what I wanted. Rumi also said no to the glitter and confetti cannons, so that’s why it’s boring.”

“It’s not boring!” Rumi whines, looking genuinely affronted. “I dismantled, like, a hundred roses!”

Zoey waves her hand, shrugging. “And I superglued rose archways to our walls, we all played our parts in trying to get Mira to, you know.” Zoey pointedly looks over to her, maintaining eye contact when she continues, “To maybe realise we both feel the same way and were trying to find a better time to say it but stuff just kept getting in the way and also what better time to confess than on Valentine’s day. Right? Right. And also because I only just had this talk with Rumi, um, maybe, like, three weeks ago? And she was terrified, so we really just pushed it off longer and longer so I could kinda prove that you did, um, totally feel the same, but, uh, well. I thought it was obvious! For all of us! I figured we all just kinda knew! Quite frankly, I’m pretty sure our anniversary is, like, sometime in the summer? Six years ago?”

Mira can feel the honmoon trilling around her. Another victory lap. She opens her mouth to say something, but all that ends up coming out is a soft bark of laughter. She drags her hands down her face, shaking her head rapidly as she tries to clear her thoughts.

Okay. So she was wrong. Maybe it makes sense—she’s never wanted to hurt them, never wanted to overstep, never wanted to just...be too much. She knows that’s impossible with them, even beyond being pretty much soul-tied to them, or whatever, but Rumi and Zoey have always been her family. They’ve always been her home. They’re the only two people in the world who get her, who have never asked her to be any less herself, who’ve only encouraged it, actually. And Mira isn’t really afraid of them suddenly changing their opinion on her, or whatever, but she just...she’s never wanted to even give them a reason.

There’s a difference between being totally platonic and just really good friends, and then having a crush and being in love with them. A big difference. Mira wouldn’t blame them if they were uncomfortable with her after finding out, so maybe she just hammered it into her head a little too hard that that couldn’t be true, and now it...

Is.

And it’s not even like they were actually totally platonic, Mira is realising. Not with the newfound information that, oh, okay, Zoey and Rumi are actually into her the same way she’s into them. She chalked it up to Zoey always being like that, touchy and affectionate and loving, because she’s been that way since they met; but if Zoey thinks their anniversary was six years ago, even if she was joking, that would mean she...

Mira decidedly ignores how much time they might have lost. She figured Rumi being touchy and affectionate the past few months has just been her coming off years and years of suppressing herself and forcing herself to not be allowed to have anything at all. She guesses it kind of would make sense for Rumi to, maybe, possibly, have feelings for them now. If she does. Which Zoey just said, but it feels kind of weird and egotistical to just go ‘yeah, okay, they’re totally into me for sure’ even if that’s true, which—

“Hey,” Rumi gently murmurs, reaching out to set her hand on Mira’s shoulder. “Do you wanna take a second?”

It takes her a second to process the fact that Rumi is rumbling. Mira does her absolute best not to tease her for it, though she doesn’t think she has any right to do that, anyway; it’s kind of working at making her feel less nervous, less anxious.

Maybe she should be more anxious than she is, even without Rumi’s purring. It’s just...them. It’s just Rumi and Zoey. They’ve always made everything easier than it should be.

“No,” Mira promises, shaking her head as if that’ll physically get her thoughts out of her mind. “No. No, it’s fine. I just...” she breathes out, flexing her hands. “I’m just...taking it all in, I guess. Not in a bad way. The opposite of bad.”

“One might say that’s good,” Zoey teases, shooting her a wide grin that Mira can’t help but return. “Sorry, I know that was, um, like...sudden. But, to be fair, I’ve been trying really hard not to say anything! For literal years, dude. Years! And then Rumi brought it up, and I wanted to tell you, but—”

Rumi heaves a sigh, ducking her head. “I was nervous, yeah, okay, my bad. I thought faults and fears were totally fine?”

“Low blow,” Zoey grumbles. 

“Super low blow,” Mira agrees, smiling at the way Rumi flounders for half a second before she ends up pursing her lips, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Um. Can I ask, like...how long?”

Zoey beams at her. “Six years, duh. Probably like six and a half. Honestly, I think I saw you dance for the first time and I probably lost my mind and decided that we would end up together. I’ve been planning our marriage for, like, years. Literal years. Both of you better be cool with a spring wedding.”

Rumi snickers, lightly elbowing Mira. “Can you do that?”

“I’m okay with it,” Mira says, feigning a sort of nonchalance she definitely doesn’t feel in reality. “What about...you?” she presses, giving Rumi a look.

“Probably longer,” Rumi mumbles, looking entirely sheepish. “I just figured that was, um, normal. Okay, well, not—not normal. But I didn’t really let myself think about it a lot until recently, and then I sort of freaked out about it by myself, um, until I kinda freaked out near Zoey, and then we talked about it. I didn’t really...want you to freak out, either, um, and I didn’t totally think you felt the same, because you’re—” Rumi cuts herself off with a noise. “I don’t know, you?”

Zoey snorts. “Uh-huh?”

“You try and explain it,” Rumi mutters. “I was just nervous! We were both nervous! Some of us...more than others, maybe. Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Mira teases back, though she knows she doesn’t really have any room to speak on that. She swallows past the lump in her throat, looking toward the rose archways. “They look good. Did you actually superglue them?” At Zoey’s sheepish smile, matching Rumi’s own, Mira sighs. “I guess it’s just Valentine’s day forever, huh?”

Zoey giggles, resting her chin in both hands. “It could be, if that’s what you wanted. Sooo,” she drawls out, tilting her head from side to side. “Yes? No? Do you like-like us back, or do I need to, I dunno, burn down the archways?”

Mira laughs. She tries to ignore the way her heart catches in her throat, suddenly a lot more present than it had been before. “I think it’s pretty obviously a yes.”

“There’s no harm in checking,” Zoey offers, beaming. “Cool, cool, cool. Cool! Coolio, even, if you will. Which both of you better, ‘cause I did not wait six years just for—”

“Coolio,” Rumi immediately repeats, though her tone lacks the same casual teasing, replaced with something a lot more serious. Mira can barely take her seriously when Rumi turns to look at her, grinning so wide it can’t be natural, and says, “Is it coolio if we kiss?”

Mira blinks at her. “No, it is not fucking coolio.”

Zoey bursts out laughing from the coffee table, throwing her head back so hard Mira’s almost surprised she doesn’t get flung off onto the ground. She does her best to ignore Rumi’s dejected look, focusing on the fact that Rumi apparently thought it was totally fine—Mira ignores the voice in her head that helpfully replaces ‘fine’ with ‘coolio’—to ask her like that. 

It doesn’t even matter, really, because Mira can feel her heart rate spike. She can feel her chest tighten, can feel the way her nerves come back in full force at the prospect of kissing either one of them, even with Zoey’s stupid bit lingering around all three of them. 

She’s so happy she’s in love with both of them. It could never be anyone else, she thinks. Not when they exist.

“What, really?” Zoey asks through breathless giggles, reaching out to tug at Mira’s legs, pulling her closer to the edge of the couch. “You don’t want to kiss us? You hate us? Me, specifically? You hate me and want me to die? Is that it? Dude. Look at those arches. I literally put my heart and soul and honmoon into—”

“You did not put the honmoon into those arches!” Rumi disagrees, huffing. “You used me like a—like a step stool! I gave you the actual step stool and you wouldn’t use it!”

Zoey waves her other hand, giving an unabashed grin. “Uh, duh? ‘Cause you’re way better than a step stool, babe. Keep up, get with the program, Rums. Lock in.”

“You’re just saying things to me,” Rumi grumbles. “Not coolio.”

“Can you both stop fucking saying coolio?” Mira demands, a bark of laughing spilling from her lips even despite herself. “You can’t ask me out and then start saying—you can’t do that. Try again. Here, I’ll even—” Mira pushes herself up to her feet, fully intent on going all the way back to the elevator so they can experience the consequences of their actions, but she never makes it more than two steps.

She feels rather than sees Zoey’s hand on her stomach, and before she can actually process what’s happening, she’s stumbling backward directly into Rumi’s lap. Rumi, of course, catches her with ease, wrapping her arms around Mira’s middle, head settled on her shoulder as she quickly asks, “Are you okay?” as if that wasn’t a coordinated attack.

Really, Mira thinks, it sort of has to be her fault for letting it happen. She knows both of them better than she knows herself by this point, and she absolutely should’ve expected this from Zoey, at least. 

Zoey grins at her, infinitely less playful. Mira is half-surprised she hasn’t been actually pounced on given the way Zoey is looking at her right now. She shifts to the complete edge of the coffee table, knees touching Mira’s as she leans in as closely as she can. 

“I’m in love with you,” Zoey tells her, softly. “So is Rumi. Honestly, there’s, like, nothing I wouldn’t give to actually jump your bones right now. I’m exhibiting, you know.” Zoey grins a little harder. “A lot of restraint.”

Mira is a little less than thrilled at the way Zoey can so easily pivot between topics, between saying something so ridiculous and then jumping into a heartfelt confession before sidelining all of that to effectively tell Mira she wants to fuck her. She guesses she shouldn’t be surprised—Zoey has always been like this, she doesn’t know why she thought anything would be different when it comes to...this.

Rumi rumbles a little louder from behind her, Mira can feel the noise settling deep in her bones. It hardly helps that Rumi’s head is pressed to her shoulder. “I love you,” Rumi murmurs into the side of her neck. “And she means it, too. Um...so do I. Maybe not like—in the same way Zoey said it, but, um, you know. Same sentiment?”

Mira lets out a nervous laugh, trying not to squirm in Rumi’s lap, which is suddenly more apparent to her that that’s where she is. “You could at least take me out, or something. You know, like...an actual date? Dinner, or whatever?”

“You were out all day,” Zoey reminds her. Mira watches the way Zoey studies her for a few seconds before her face shifts, until she’s looking a lot more resigned. “We don’t, like, have—”

“No!” Mira rushes out, ignoring the very pointed, very deliberate arch of Zoey’s eyebrow. “No. No, I want to. Seriously,” she presses after both Zoey and Rumi look at her like they don’t believe her. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s...you. Both of you. Obviously I want to.”

She does. She definitely does, which is a realisation that’s sort of new to her. Mira has never really cared about sex, not in the ways she thinks she’s supposed to. It’s always just been something to do, kind of. She’s never wanted it like this, not like how she suddenly really, really wants both of them. 

It’s kind of jarring to realise. When did that happen? Has she just...not noticed? This whole time? 

Zoey snorts, tilting her head to the side with a gentle smile. “Sweet talker.”

Rumi laughs from behind her, the action tickling the back of Mira’s neck. “I mean, it’s kinda working.”

“Only kind of?” Mira asks, tipping her head back to rest it against Rumi’s shoulder. She realises it’s a mistake as soon as she does it, given how Rumi’s lips are instantly against her throat, teeth grazing over her pulse point without a second of warning.

“A lot,” Rumi corrects in a murmur, clearly grinning. “It’s working a lot.”

“Chill, tiger,” Zoey says with another snort. She reaches out, grabbing Mira by the arms to tug her forward. Not completely out of Rumi’s lap, but far enough away that it’s obvious they’re back to talking rather than—anything else. “Okay. So...what’s up? You were quiet for way too long, babe. Can’t hide that.”

Rumi hums her agreement, adding after a second, “That and the whole, um, you know. No lying rule.”

The ‘no lying rule’ that both Zoey and Rumi have been diligently following. Not like Mira hasn’t been following it, but they’ve been doing a better job at bringing up all the little things rather than swallowing them down. Mira’s still adjusting to the sudden, complete openness in communication, along with the sudden expectation of spilling her guts each and every time she’s quiet for two seconds too long.

“Right,” Mira mutters, shifting a little. Maybe more intentionally than needed, given the way Rumi’s grasp on her waist tightens, but who’s to say if it was on purpose? Definitely not Mira. 

She sighs, looking down at the floor for a few seconds. Her head isn’t quite a mess of anxiety and nervousness, and she’s sure that all has to do with literally being in Rumi’s lap while Zoey sits on the coffee table in front of her—they’ve always been so good at...this. At her. At everything to do with her, including calming her down, making Mira feel like she’s actually able to breathe. They’ve never once made her feel like she was too much, or too difficult. They’re doing a good job with this, too. 

She just doesn’t know how to explain it. What does she even say? ‘Yeah, sorry, I’m kind of weird about sex’? Mira grimaces, irritation settling in her chest when she realises that’s probably a good enough way to say it, even if it makes her feel stupid and kind of ridiculous. 

Mira sighs again, tipping her head back for a second time, though she intentionally keeps herself where she is, staring up at the ceiling rather than moving in an attempt to goad Rumi into something, no matter how much she wants to.

“I’m just...” she trails off, huffing out an annoyed breath when the words get caught in her throat. “It’s hard, sometimes.”

“Sex?” Zoey presses. When Mira nods, Zoey’s face splits into a wide grin, her eyes practically sparkling. “Yeah, that’s kinda the whole po—”

“You are so not helping,” Mira groans, but she can feel some of the stress leaving her body. “But...yeah. Whatever. It’s just...difficult, I guess. I don’t know. I get weird. Or whatever.”

Rumi makes a noise, her hands moving from Mira’s waist to hang somewhat limply against her stomach. Her arms wrap tightly around her middle, head resting against Mira’s shoulder, steady and warm. That coaxes the rest of the tension out of her, especially after Mira can feel Rumi’s deep rumbling, straight from her chest.

“Weird how?” Rumi asks, her voice soft. 

Mira crinkles her nose, ignoring the way Zoey looks at her. Maybe she should have picked a better word, but she doesn’t really know how to describe it. She’s just not interested, and then sometimes she has to ditch out because she’s really not interested all of a sudden, and that makes everything weird. 

“Just...weird. I don’t know. I get nervous, I guess,” Mira helplessly offers, still feeling like she’s not really explaining it right. “Or, I don’t know, not, like, usually. Usually it’s not even a problem, because I don’t...want to, or whatever. Before, um you guys, I guess, it’s just been something to do. But with this,” she breathes out, “With you, I feel like I’m just going to...I don’t know, not be...like, what I should be. And it’s not—just because...it’s, like...”

“Take a sec, babe,” Zoey patiently assures her, bumping their knees together. “Rumi’s the same way.”

Mira blinks. 

Rumi just hums her agreement, taking that time to gently knock her head against Mira’s jaw before she says, “Yeah, kind of? It just takes a lot of time for me to want to in the first place. And only with people who are, like...” she trails off, giving a quiet bark of laughter. “You guys, I guess. I, um, did research. Well, okay, Zoey did a lot of researching and sent me an entire spreadsheet of stuff, but I read all of it!”

“I did do all of that,” Zoey easily agrees, flashing both of them a wide grin. “I’ll send it to you, too. Not to, like, freak you out, or whatever, but I’ve totally had my suspicions. Kinda the best to ever do it, actually. Two for two!”

Mira laughs, feeling oddly at ease at the teasing, at the casual joking. 

It’s still them. Rumi and Zoey are still Rumi and Zoey. It’s not like this has to change anything. 

Or...it will. Mira’s sure it already has, which, obviously. Jumping from a totally platonic relationship to a romantic one is a pretty big leap, except that’s not even true, because ‘totally platonic’ probably isn’t the way she’d have described whatever the hell they were doing just a day prior to this. Mira had hoped, but she also pounded it into her head that Zoey and Rumi were just like that. Which wasn’t even true for Rumi, who was notably a terrible flirt up until, well, now, but still. She just...didn’t want to get her hopes up, more than she already had, only for everything to tumble down around her.

Zoey reaches out, hand settling over her knee, thumbing over the bone. “So...what do you want to do? We can just...not have sex right now. We could just kiss tonight? We don’t even have to do that, though, if you wanna wait. We could try tomorrow,” she offers, slowly. “Or next week. Rumi could schedule us. You got time for that, babe? Can you pen us in somewhere?”

“We’re literally on hiatus, first of all,” Rumi grumbles, “And second of all—I don’t even...I don’t even—why are you turning on me? You like it when I schedule stuff! I wouldn’t even schedule sex, so that’s not even—it’s just not—whatever. I’m definitely not scheduling it now. Not with you, at least.”

Mira laughs at the openly dejected and harrowed look that flickers across Zoey’s face, though it’s quickly replaced with a pout that looks just a little too fond for it to be believable. That look is quickly directed back over to her, Zoey’s smile coming back in full.

“So what’s up, Mir?” Zoey asks, ever in-tune with every little thing Mira has ever felt. It’s a little terrifying to be read so cleanly, though it’s equally as reassuring. Both of them have always been good at this, but Zoey specifically has always had a particular knack for figuring out their emotions, even before either of them realised themselves.

“I want to,” Mira reaffirms, mostly for the two of them. “We just might, I don’t know, have to stop, or whatever. Which...is fine.” She must say it too slowly, or too uncertainly, because Zoey gives her an unimpressed look. 

“Yup. It would be totally fine if you decided to back out literally three seconds into it,” Zoey pointedly tells her. “Or an hour. Or, you know, whenever. Or if you change your mind and never want to have sex ever and actually want all of us to live a life of celibacy as, like, nuns. Totally cool.”

“Super cool,” Rumi echoes with another breathy laugh, right below Mira’s ear. “You know that, right? Like, actually know that?”

Mira sighs, glancing back down to the floor. “I mostly know that.”

“Mostly, like...you’d still say something, or mostly like you wouldn’t, but you’d want to?” Zoey asks.

“I’d say something,” Mira promises. She pauses for a second, squinting at the ground. “Did you have the same talk with Rumi? Why am I being tag-teamed right now?”

Zoey snickers, resting her cheek against her knuckles. “Well, you actually haven’t been tag-teamed yet, we’re kinda talking about th—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Mira groans, pinching the bridge of her nose as she deliberately looks literally anywhere else other than at Zoey’s stupidly charming grin that has no right to be that pretty for what she just said. “Don’t call it that, are you kidding? Zoey.”

“What?” Zoey laughs, looking wholly unashamed. “Am I wrong? You can tell me if I’m wrong, you know. We can totally tag-team Rumi together. Or, you know, take turns. I can share. I’m so good at sharing.”

“Please stop talking,” Mira mutters, ignoring how Zoey’s bright laughter fills the room not even a second later.

Right. Things decidedly not changing means that everything is remaining unchanged, and that includes Zoey’s deep-set love for saying awful things whenever she gets the chance. She doesn’t even need a chance, Mira thinks; if Zoey doesn’t see an opportunity, she’ll make an opportunity, regardless of the situation at hand.

Admittedly, it’s helping her relax more than Mira would care to admit. She still doesn’t know how Zoey can swing between being completely serious to teasing her and getting her flustered, rinse and repeat, but it’s...nice. Or whatever.

“She did have this talk with me, by the way,” Rumi says after another beat. “And then she sent me a lot of articles and posts and stuff. It’s important!”

Mira squirms a little, staring back up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I know, it just feels kind of...” She waves her hand, shrugging. “I don’t know. I feel weird talking about it. Just...” Mira trails off, sighing. She makes eye contact with Zoey when she breathes out and says, “Just kiss me, or whatever. Please.”

Zoey beams at her, a little too wolfish to be completely sincere. “So polite,” she teases, planting a hand on Mira’s chest, pressing her further back into Rumi. 

Rumi seems to pick up on whatever it is that Zoey wants her to do, given how she tugs Mira back right with her, adjusting so she’s no longer in Rumi’s lap, but rather settled between her legs. Mira picks up on what Zoey’s doing half a second later, still a little too focused on the rumble that had been in her voice when Zoey had called her—polite. As if that was—that hadn’t been what she was going for, but—

Zoey deposits herself right into Mira’s lap, hands coming up to cup the side of her face. That wolfish grin only gets brighter and brighter, with Zoey leaning in just enough that Mira could push herself up to kiss her if she wanted.

“Say it again,” Zoey murmurs, thumbing over Mira’s cheekbone. “I didn’t totally catch it the first time.”

“You’re fucking kidding m—” Mira is cut off by her own sharp exhale when Rumi decides that now is apparently the ideal time to start lightly nipping at her throat again. Her hands move away from Mira’s stomach, coming to settle directly around her waist, holding her firm. As if she’d rather be anywhere else.

Mira tips her head back to give Rumi more access to her neck, though it’s also inadvertently keeping her from having to look at Zoey. She lets out a trembling breath as one of Zoey’s hands slide down to lower her head back down. Clearly Mira doesn’t have much of an actual say in the matter, though she can’t say she’s exactly complaining. She...likes it, maybe. More than she should. More than she’d ever admit, both to herself and to them.

She’s beaten to speaking by Zoey, who thumbs over her bottom lip, pressing her further into Rumi. “Say it again, and I’ll let Rumi kiss you.”

It’s almost enough to make Mira completely swallow her pride and lose all remaining fight—not like she has very much in the first place—but there’s still a sliver of dignity she’s desperately holding onto. Instead of answering or playing into Zoey’s request, Mira parts her lips just enough to take Zoey’s thumb into her mouth, grinning at the sharp gasp that gets her. She drags her tongue over Zoey’s thumb for a few seconds before she pulls back just enough to press a kiss to the pad of it, beaming up at her, head cocked to the side.

Mira doesn’t have much time to feel the pride she so valiantly fought for before Zoey is kissing her so hard she swears both their lips are going to end up bruised. She gasps into Zoey’s mouth, thankful that the following whine she lets out when Rumi’s nails scratch against her skin is muffled by her lips on Zoey’s. Mira hardly thinks her position is fair once Rumi starts leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck and over to her throat, tracing up to her jaw; Mira can barely think, dizzy and breathless from the both of them.

She’s nearly left panting when Zoey pulls back, only marginally less humiliated given how Zoey’s chest is rising just as fast as her own. Admittedly, it doesn’t help calm her down—if anything, Mira feels like the heat pooling in her stomach only gets worse at the slight flush over Zoey’s cheeks. 

Rumi equally doesn’t help even a little, not with her stupid smirk against Mira’s neck, or her hands inching down Mira’s waist to dip toward her hips, settling at her thighs. Mira squirms at the way Rumi’s thumbs drive closer to the inside of her thighs, careful but clearly intentional and deliberate on where they’re going. 

Zoey’s eyes flit down to where Rumi’s hands are, and by the time she looks back up at Mira, she’s grinning again. “Do you just...not want to kiss Rumi?” she teases, words coming out a little breathless, which leaves Mira feeling a surge of pride.

“Rumi can kiss me if she wants to kiss me,” Mira bites back, trying to drive her hips back into Rumi’s. “Or does she just do whatever you tell her to do?”

“Usually, yeah,” Zoey agrees, absentmindedly dragging her nails down Mira’s arms, leaving goosebumps in her wake. “That’s normally how it goes.”

Mira can hear the quiet question hidden in her words—is that how it’s going to go for you, too?

It doesn’t have to be. Mira knows that she could ask to have whatever role or position in this, and they’d let her. They’d adjust, they’d do whatever she needed them to do. She doesn’t have to go along with the part Zoey is gently easing her into if she doesn’t want to.

She’s never been...here, before. She’s always been very set on being the one in control, on not letting any of her partners so much as touch her, but it’s never—it’s never meant anything to her before. It just felt like something she was meant to do, like, what other option was there? Apparently whatever Rumi and Zoey were doing, specifically Rumi, since there are articles, or whatever. People like her, she guesses, whatever that means.

Mira wants them to touch her so badly it almost aches. She doesn’t think she’s wanted anything as badly as she wants this; she swears she’d do anything for them to just fucking—do whatever they want, she doesn’t care, she just wants them, however they’ll let her have them, in any way, all of it.

So Mira swallows that sliver of pride, albeit only halfway, and dips her head. She peers up at Zoey, shifting between Rumi’s legs as she tries to choke back the embarrassment she feels at the idea of agreeing. It’s not even because she secretly doesn’t want to, or whatever, Mira would know. It’s just that she’s...prideful, maybe. Too prideful. She can want, but asking is an entirely different demon that she doesn’t particularly enjoy being in the lap of.

Zoey must notice—she always does—because she leans in just a little, her voice low when she asks, “Are you going to be good for me too, pretty girl?”

Mira’s mouth goes dry. The combination of ‘good’ and ‘pretty girl’ has her mind swimming, her entire body shuddering as she replays Zoey’s words over and over again in her head. She didn’t realise that was something she liked, something she could want, something she could...

“For us?” Rumi presses, hands ghosting back up Mira’s sides, slowly pushing up her shirt. 

She’s so fucked.

“Whatever you want,” Mira rasps out, because it’s easier than saying yes directly. 

Zoey beams at her, lips teasing against Mira’s skin, kissing along her jaw, settling just below her ear. “Whatever?”

Mira shivers, swallowing hard as she tips her head back onto Rumi’s shoulder, giving Zoey more access. Inadvertently, that gives Rumi more access to her, too, though Mira can hardly focus on anything other than the feeling of Rumi’s hands sliding further and further up her shirt, or the way Zoey’s breath ghosts against her neck.

“Whatever,” Mira agrees, barely able to breathe, let alone get the word out. “I don’t care, just—I want you. I love you.”

It comes out a little too quickly, but she’s not going to take it back when she means it. Zoey pulls away from her, giving Mira a soft look, her demeanour shifting from bold and cocky to gentle and adoring. Rumi’s hands stop trailing up her sides and come to squeeze reassuringly at her lower ribs, planting a dozen or so kisses to her shoulder.

“I love you, too,” Rumi murmurs first, bumping their heads together again. “You can ask to stop whenever you want to. No big deal.”

“No big deal,” Zoey echoes, hands coming back up to cup either side of Mira’s face; she can’t really help but press her cheek into Zoey’s palm, almost instinctively. “I love you, like, so bad, babe. Happy anniversary!”

Mira laughs, raising her own hand to cup over Zoey’s. “Valentine’s day is a cute anniversary. Would be cuter if Rumi was kissing me.”

“I don’t think that one was very good, but I’ll let you have it,” Zoey teases, her voice shifting back into that playful cockiness. Mira feels her breath hitch in her throat when Zoey rolls her hips forward, slow and deliberate, hands moving down to be planted against Mira’s shoulders. “All you have to do is ask nicely, pretty girl.”

So she must have had a reaction to Zoey calling her that, judging by the way the words are whispered low and sweetly, even despite Zoey’s active teasing. Mira tilts her head back with a groan, eyes fluttering shut at Zoey’s soft, breathy laugh. 

“You’re—” Mira cuts herself off with a heavy exhale, Rumi’s nails scratching down her sides. “Both of you,” she corrects, “Are fucked up.” 

Zoey laughs again, squeezing her shoulder softly. “You said whatever, babe.”

“Whatever doesn’t mean—”

She’s cut off again with another very purposeful, very deliberate roll of Zoey’s hips into hers, and Mira snaps her jaw shut with an audible click. She swallows, adjusting to glare up at Zoey, who only looks down at her with an all-too-sweet smile that’s anything but. It must be a talent of hers, how she’s managing to look so sincere when Mira knows she’s not.

“Just one word,” Zoey offers, her hand settling at the base of Mira’s throat. The action has her breath hitching, and she’s hardly in control of her movements when she presses forward, further into Zoey’s grasp. She ignores the look that gets her, intentionally looking off to the side so she doesn’t have to meet Zoey’s knowing gaze. 

Mira still feels that stupid sliver of pride, the stubbornness she’s thrived off of burning away in her chest. She’s never been easy, and she knows that. Every single scrap of control she’s ever managed to get her hands on has stayed tucked neatly between her fingers; she’s not the kind of person to give in, even when it probably would be better—or easier—for her to do so. 

But Zoey and Rumi are different. They’ve always been different, they’ve always seen right through her and all of her desperate attempts to stay on top of everything and everyone. They know her better than anyone else, they know her, and Mira trusts them. She’s long-since given both of them her soul, or parts of it, at least. The parts that matter. Even if they weren’t literally connected through the honmoon, Mira thinks she’d still give herself up to them. 

So she draws in a trembling breath, choking down the deep-set urge to fight back rather than give in, and forces out, “Please.”

The reaction from both Zoey and Rumi is instant—Rumi’s grasp on her gets tighter, and Zoey beams down at her like she’s beyond pleased. It’s more embarrassing than anything, though Mira still gleans some sort of pride off of being able to get reactions out of both of them.

“Good job, pretty girl,” Zoey murmurs. The words leave Mira more desperate than she’d care to admit, grinding her hips forward without even really meaning to. Zoey kisses the corner of her mouth, dragging her hand up to Mira’s jaw, turning her head to the side. “Go ahead, Ru.”

Mira doesn’t have much time to react before Rumi is shifting enough to face her properly so neither one of them have to snap their necks to actually meet. By the time Mira fully processes the shift in how they’re situated, Rumi is kissing her just as fervently as Zoey had, albeit a little softer. Rumi’s hands never leave her body, trailing up and down her sides, scratching lightly all the way down to her waist, then dragging slowly back up. The contact has Mira shivering, and when Zoey tightens her grasp on her throat, she can’t help but gasp into Rumi’s mouth.

Mira lets out another, softer gasp at how Rumi’s fangs catch on her bottom lip as she pulls back. The sting is fleeting, barely there, but it has Mira shuddering nonetheless. 

“You like that,” Zoey murmurs, less of a question, more of a statement. 

Mira swallows thickly, looking back over to her. “Like what?” she asks, laughing a little. “Rumi kissing me?”

“That too,” Zoey agrees, beaming at her. “I meant this, though.” As soon as she’s done speaking, her fingers tighten again around Mira’s throat. Not squeezing hard enough to block off the airflow, just hard enough to make it clear that she could, that she has her hand around Mira’s neck in the first place.

It’s enough to make Mira’s breath hitch. She squirms from her place in between Rumi’s legs, mouth dropping open for a few seconds as she tries to work out a response that doesn’t make her sound pathetic or needy or both. She doesn’t think there is a response she can give that makes her sound at least a little dignified, so Mira settles on mumbling, “Yeah. It’s the—it’s the pressure.”

Zoey gives a thoughtful hum. “Good to know. Nothing past that, though?”

“No,” Mira agrees. “Just...just that is good. For what I like, um, I mean.”

“Got it,” Zoey says, kissing her again. It’s shorter than their first kiss, less desperate, less frantic. Mira still melts into it regardless, her hands weakly settling up against Zoey’s chest. She whines right into Zoey’s mouth—a mortifying sound that she is beyond thankful to have muffled—when Rumi’s hands push fully up her shirt, fingertips grazing directly under her breasts.

It’s a silent question, one that Mira immediately answers by pressing herself back into Rumi as much as she’s able to. Zoey pulls back right as she does that, looking her over with eyes that are clearly intent on something.

“You’re wearing too much,” Zoey helpfully tells her. “Actually, all of us are wearing too much.”

“Change that, then,” Mira mumbles, dropping her arms back to her sides. “No one’s stopping you.”

Zoey snickers, but she doesn’t waste any time after that. Mira is almost surprised at how quickly Zoey’s hands press up her shirt, at how it’s up and off her head in less than two seconds. The most surprising part comes when Zoey manages to unbutton her pants with one hand, using the other to tug out the belt and toss it somewhere to the side.

“Kinda wish you had worn a skirt,” Zoey mutters, shimmying back off of Mira’s lap, halfway onto the floor as she tugs Mira’s pants off, right along with her.

The idea of Zoey pushing up her skirt is instantly right at the forefront of Mira’s mind, quickly followed by the mental imagery of Rumi grabbing at her from behind, holding her legs open, fingers tracing along—

“I can put one on,” Mira rasps out, ignoring the unsteady rhythm of her heart. 

“Maybe later,” Rumi offers from behind. Her hands come up to settle on Mira’s hips, steadying her as Zoey manages to finally get her pants off, triumphantly tossing them over the couch. “I like the brown one you have,” Rumi murmurs, kissing Mira’s shoulder again. “The shorter brown one.”

“Yeah?” Mira asks, tilting her head to the side.

She can feel Rumi’s sly grin against the side of her neck. “Yeah. You look really good in it. And the yellow one?” she continues, teeth just barely grazing over the junction between where Mira’s neck meets her shoulders. “The one that was supposed to be mine?”

Mira gives a breathless laugh, eyes fluttering shut. “I look better in it.”

“You do,” Rumi easily agrees. “You’d look really good in it right now.”

“I always look good,” Mira mutters, ignoring the burning heat against the back of her neck, across her cheeks, blazing down her chest. It’s easier to bite back, just a little, than to sit there and let Rumi whisper into her ear about how good she looks, even if she likes it more than she thinks she should.

Zoey snorts from her place in front of both of them, which is all the warning Mira gets before Zoey is suddenly pulling her shirt over her head in one smooth, easy motion. She tosses it onto the growing pile—though that’s kind of a generous word, since half of Mira’s clothes aren’t even there—with her hands settling on her hips, hooking under her waistband.

Mira doesn’t think it’s fair to be that attractive. She can’t help but stare, drinking in Zoey’s chest, her stomach, the freckles that ghost down her sides and disappear along where her thighs remain covered. Judging by how Rumi’s breath hitches from behind her, she’s being affected much the same. 

That only becomes clearer when Zoey slowly tugs down her pants, stepping out of them with a refined grace that has Mira shifting in place, heart hammering in her chest. Her eyes are immediately drawn to Zoey’s boxers, at how they fit her frame perfectly, at the stupid HUNTR/X waistband that wraps around her hips. 

“What?” Zoey teases, flashing both of them a grin. “See something you like?”

“Are you taking—?” Rumi’s voice dies out for a second. “Are you...taking those off?” she eventually manages to get out; Mira can’t even judge her for the slip up, given how she’s mostly convinced her throat has closed up entirely.

Zoey snorts, shrugging one shoulder far too casually. “Maybe. Depends on how I’m feeling. Ru, your clothes?”

“Sorry!” Rumi rushes out. Mira lets out a huff of surprise when she’s suddenly moved from between Rumi’s legs, settled on the couch as Rumi wriggles out and starts to undress. “She was—I was busy?” she offers up, grinning sheepishly. 

“I get it,” Zoey assures her, and then her eyes are set right on Mira. It’s all Mira can do but watch as Zoey saunters over to the couch, fingertips trailing along the cushions, humming softly to herself. She’s almost distracted enough by whatever it is Zoey’s doing that she nearly misses Rumi stripping.

Mira quickly rectifies that mistake, turning her head to the side, mouth going dry as soon as Rumi’s shirt joins the ridiculous pile they’ve built. Zoey has spent the past seven or so months teasing Rumi for going through effectively a second puberty, what, with all the muscle gain and slight boost to her height, but Mira is really seeing it now. And it isn’t even like Rumi has ever been all that slim and slender—she’s always been toned. Not jacked, not completely ripped, but she’s always had obvious muscle mass. 

Rumi used to be insistent on it being all the demon hunting and training she went through, but Mira and Zoey never quite bulked up the same even after running the same drills as her. Maybe it’s genetic and predisposed to her just...generally, but Mira is more than willing to bet that that had come from her demon heritage, too. It’s just suddenly a lot more prominent now that Rumi hasn’t been completely suppressing herself. 

Mira drags her eyes down to Rumi’s abs, to her thighs, to how strong her entire build is. It has her a little dizzy watching Rumi kick off her pants, hands settled right on the waistband of her boxers, looking back over at Zoey questioningly. 

“What about these?” Rumi asks, tugging them down just a little. It’s more than enough for Mira to be near-desperate for her to just take the fucking things off, but Zoey’s soft hum fills the air a second later. She must shake her head, because Rumi nods, hands immediately coming off of herself.

Zoey makes another noise from behind her, and before Mira can turn to see what’s going on, Zoey says, “Ru. Come here, lay down. Or...just kinda prop yourself up. You’ll see what I mean.”

Rumi moves without a beat of hesitation, settling on the couch as instructed. Mira watches with rapt attention as she adjusts and moves as necessary, until her elbows are propped up, back against a handful of pillows. She’s not entirely laying down, but she’s not completely sitting, either. Zoey plants a pillow directly between her legs and over her lower stomach, twisting back to meet Mira’s eyes with a soft smile.

“Okay. Lay down on her,” she says, gesturing over to the pillow. “That should help with, y’know, not breaking your neck.”

Mira snorts, but she does as she’s told. She scoots along the couch, positioning herself in between Rumi’s legs, head on the pillow. She lets out a startled gasp when Zoey suddenly plants her hands on her knees, pushing her legs open and apart. That’s all the warning she gets before Zoey decidedly settles right between her legs, head resting against her thigh, grinning wickedly.

“Shouldn’t—we have beds,” Mira rasps out, her heart pounding in her chest. “The couch—Zoey. Rumi. On the couch?”

“Who said we were doing anything on the couch?” Zoey asks, winking at her. “It’s totally fine, babe. We’ll move in a sec, okay? Promise. Plus, isn’t the couch literally super insanely waterproof? Hydrophobic, or whatever?” she pauses, snickering to herself. “Homophobic couch?” 

Rumi laughs from above her, and Mira can’t help but roll her eyes. “It’s...kind of waterproof. Not enough.”

“What do you mean ‘not enough’?” Mira demands, twisting her head to the side so she can stare up at Rumi. “What the hell are you doing to me that the normal waterproof couch isn’t waterproof enough?”

Rumi opens her mouth, probably to say something deeply unhelpful, but she’s cut off by Mira’s own sharp gasp turned into a near-pitiful whine as Zoey drags the back of her knuckle down over Mira’s underwear. She jerks her head back, hands clawing at the couch at the unexpected touch, arching her back as she presses her hips up, chasing the brief contact. 

It has her entire body buzzing. Zoey’s touch is fleeting and barely there and it’s gone just as quickly as it came, but it still leaves Mira’s thighs trembling.

God, maybe she’s too easy. Or maybe both Zoey and Rumi are just unfairly attractive. 

Regardless, Mira is left with her chest heaving, her throat and mouth completely dry as she stares up at Zoey, who just beams down at her, far too smug and sly. 

“God, Mira, you’re soaked,” Zoey murmurs, adjusting so she’s kneeling between Mira’s thighs. “All this—” Zoey plants her hand over Mira’s underwear, thumbing directly over her clit. It’s enough to leave Mira gasping, head thrown back as she instinctively grinds up into the pressure. “—Just from us kissing you?”

Mira shudders, swallowing hard when Zoey doesn’t let up. “You were—you were pretty much g-grinding on me,” she manages to bite out. “Bit more than—fuck, kissing.”

Zoey gives a thoughtful hum, her other hand settling on Mira’s knee, keeping her legs spread apart. “Was I?”

“Yes,” Mira hisses out, bucking her hips. “You—”

“I don’t think I’d do that,” Zoey murmurs, her hand suddenly retracting from between Mira’s legs. She nearly whines at the loss of Zoey’s thumb over her, squirming as she tries to catch her breath again. Mira isn’t given much time to readjust before Zoey is straddling her, hands planted on either side of her face as she leans down to capture her in a kiss. 

Mira groans into Zoey’s mouth when her knee is quickly slotted in between Mira’s legs, giving her something to grind up against. It’s a little humiliating, bucking her hips up against Zoey’s leg, rutting into her, but it’s clearly what Zoey wants, so who is Mira to complain or question it?

“You look so good like this,” Rumi murmurs from above both of them. Her hand comes down to settle over Mira’s breast, fingers teasing over her nipple. “Both of you. You sound so pretty, Mira.”

It isn’t fair to say to her in the slightest. It isn’t fair how Mira can’t help but moan right into Zoey’s mouth, and it doesn’t help that Zoey takes that time to plant her hands on Mira’s waist, squeezing lightly. Mira lets out a shaky breath when Zoey pulls up for a second, staring down at her with blown pupils, her lips damp. The sight is enough to make Mira nervous, heat pooling in her stomach as she rocks her hips back and forth, breathing too heavily to pass it off as anything other than want.

Mira chokes back the brief feeling of embarrassment that surges up her chest, opting to grab one of Zoey’s hands instead, guiding her back up to her throat. Zoey gives her a look, something like asking for confirmation, and Mira nods the best she’s able to. When Zoey still doesn’t put any pressure like Mira wants, she makes a frustrated noise, tipping her head back to glare freely up at the ceiling.

“Please,” Mira mutters, tightening her grasp on Zoey’s wrist. “You or Rumi. One of you, I just want—please.”

“What do you want, pretty girl?” Rumi asks. Mira sinks her teeth down into her lower lip to keep herself from making some sort of mortifying noise, snapping her hips up a little harder than necessary. 

She still hasn’t gotten used to hearing the pet name from Zoey, but she was at least able to expect it a little more. Hearing it from Rumi, in that drawn out, quiet rumble? It’s almost enough to send her into a dizzying kind of shock.

Mira whines when Zoey’s knee presses a little more firmly between her legs. “Your—your hand on my throat,” she hisses, tilting her head so she can look up at Rumi with pleading eyes. “For you to just fuck me already,” Mira adds, forcing a note of challenge into her words. “Don’t you want to?” she taunts. “I’m—fuck, Zoey—”

“Zoey hasn’t told me to,” Rumi murmurs, grinning. “Sorry.”

She’s not fucking sorry at all, actually, Mira can tell. Not even just from her ridiculously cocky grin, but from the low drawl in her voice, the way Rumi’s other hand comes to cup Mira’s other breast, kneading both of them slowly but firmly. Mira guesses it almost makes sense for Rumi to be acting like this—who else could she have possibly been learning from other than Zoey? It’s not like it’s exactly much of a secret that Zoey has always been more...open about sex and what she likes than both her and Rumi combined, and if they’ve had sex before—

Mira swallows hard. The idea of Rumi, pinned under Zoey, writhing and moaning and desperate, has her own moans spilling from her lips. Or maybe they didn’t get all the way there? Were they waiting for her? How many times has Zoey had Rumi like this?

“Maybe you should try asking her,” Rumi suggests in that irritatingly arrogant tone of voice. It’s unfair how stupidly attractive it makes her. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Zoey teases. Mira doesn’t even get the chance to actually open her mouth before Zoey properly wraps her hand around her throat and squeezes, firm enough to get Mira’s hips bucking again. “Oh, you really like that, huh, pretty girl?” she coos, grinning sharply. 

Mira doesn’t bother justifying that with a response. She just presses her hips up, arching her back as she tries to grind harder against Zoey’s leg, keeping her hand firmly planted on Zoey’s wrist to keep her there. She gasps when Rumi lightly rolls one of her nipples between her fingers, gentle at first, her touch becoming a little rougher when Mira outright moans when she tugs a little too hard. She tips her head back, a silent groan spilling from her lips as her eyes flutter shut.

Zoey lets out a soft hiss, and the noise only makes Mira buck her hips up harder. “Okay. Okay—bedroom. One of them, I don’t care—”

“Mine,” Mira rushes out. “We’re going to mine.”

Rumi gives a low laugh, gently urging Mira off of her. It takes a second for Mira to actually follow the command, feeling completely unsteady even as she remains seated. Zoey adjusts too, her hands gently planted on Mira’s thighs, helping balance her out a little more. Rumi is ultimately the one out of the three of them who stands up first, and maybe Mira should have expected to be instantly grabbed and carried bridal style, but it still leaves her a little winded and startled.

It’s also insanely hot to realise that Rumi can just pick her up like she weighs nothing at all. 

Mira wraps her arms around Rumi’s shoulders, letting herself be carried to her bedroom. Zoey bounds after them, and Mira can’t help but laugh at the genuine look of joy and excitement written across her face; Zoey must notice, because she grins right at Mira, giving a wildly exaggerated, obnoxious wink that has Mira rolling her eyes. 

“Ru,” Zoey says, right before they enter Mira’s bedroom. “Warm her up for me, okay? If you can make her come before I get back, I’ll fuck you after, alright?”

Mira lets out a trembling exhale at the words, expecting Rumi to react much of the same. But Rumi barely even says anything in acknowledgement before she’s pushing into Mira’s room and setting her onto the bed, instantly crawling in between her legs and settling above her. 

Mira doesn’t get any time to breathe before Rumi’s lips are crashing into her own, Rumi’s tongue sliding easily into her mouth. Mira lets out a needy whine that has her cheeks burning, hands raising weakly to claw at Rumi’s back in some sort of attempt to grab onto something. She gasps at the way Rumi’s teeth graze over her lower lip, how Rumi plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and throat, down to her shoulders and collarbones, tongue laving at the concave of her throat. When she sharply gasps at that, she can feel Rumi’s sly grin, and that’s all the warning she gets before Rumi laps at the spot under her ear, right at the edge of her jaw.

Mira tips her head back with a low groan, hands dragging up to cup the back of Rumi’s neck in an attempt to hold her there. “Fuck,” she pants out, lowering her other hand to grab Rumi’s ass. That, at least, leaves her feeling a little more prideful when Rumi moans into the side of her throat. “Yeah? You like that?” Mira teases.

Clearly the wrong thing to say, given how Rumi grabs both of her wrists, pinning them above her head. Mira just barely manages to bite back the noise of surprise she nearly lets out, but she can’t quite stop her hips from rolling upward. Rumi has to notice, judging by how she grins down at her, patterns still glowing dimly, gently ebbing from one shade of pink to another.

“Yeah?” Rumi teases back, moving to straddle Mira properly. As soon as she does, she jolts her hips forward, and it’s enough to leave Mira breathless and squirming. “You like that?” she asks, voice low. Rumi doesn’t waste any more time, leaning in to nip lightly at Mira’s throat and shoulders, just barely applying enough pressure for the contact to be considered an actual bite.

Which is beyond frustrating. Mira huffs, bucking her hips up to meet Rumi’s, flexing her hands hard. “Just—you can bite,” she mutters, a little defeatedly. 

“Yeah, I guess I probably could,” Rumi mumbles back, giggling a little. “I don’t know if I want to.”

“You do,” Mira hisses, trying to get Rumi off of her with her hips, pressing her wrists into Rumi’s hand a second later. 

Rumi doesn’t budge. Doesn’t even pretend to move. 

That admittedly does nothing good for Mira’s ego, but it adds to the heat pooling deep in her stomach, and it leaves her throat dry. Mira squirms a little harder, trying to push Rumi off again, but Rumi remains exactly where she's at. She actually pushes down on Mira’s wrists a little more, head dipping down just enough for her voice to brush over Mira’s ear when she whispers, “I don’t think you’re going anywhere, pretty girl.”

And fuck, Mira absolutely does not want to be anywhere else. Still, just to attempt and save the pride she’s painfully aware she lost thirty minutes ago—or an hour, or however long it’s been—Mira still hikes up her hips one last time to see if she can at least roll them to swap their positions.

She can’t.

Rumi laughs right into her ear, low and taunting. 

“Shut up,” Mira mutters, but she can’t help the soft laughter that spills from her lips as she wriggles underneath her. “You’re—you shouldn’t be this strong. It’s—it’s fucked up, Ru.”

“Uh-huh?” Rumi teases, giggling. “I think you’re pretty into it.”

“Could’ve just stopped at ‘pretty’,” Mira mutters.

Rumi snorts, gently pressing Mira’s wrists into the pillow above her before she removes her hands, settling directly on top of Mira’s hips. It’s not an exact command for Mira to keep her hands to herself, though it’s arguably pretty clear that’s what Rumi wants her to do. Mira decides to play nice, just for now, and doesn’t move from the position Rumi has put her in.

“You are pretty,” Rumi assures her, hands dragging down Mira’s chest, settling right above her navel. “You’re beautiful, Mira. You’re so pretty. I’ve thought about this a lot,” she admits. “Getting to...see you like this. Getting to see you and Zoey both like this,” Rumi softly amends. “Getting to, um...hear you.”

Mira laughs, but she can’t ignore the way her chest rises and falls a little faster. “Yeah? Kinda sounds like you have a crush on me, or something.”

“Or something,” Rumi agrees with a grin. “Bet you’ll sound even prettier with my tongue in you.”

“Jesus fucking—” Mira hisses out a breath, her voice coming out shaky and unsteady. “Fuck, Rumi, who taught you how to talk like that?”

Rumi beams. “Zoey.”

Well, that had been obvious enough.

Mira is beaten to speaking with Rumi sliding off of her, gently nudging her legs apart. She comes to lay down in between her thighs, planting searing hot kisses along Mira’s stomach, trailing down her thighs, further down her legs. Mira feels her breath hitch just watching her, her heart catching in her throat as Rumi kisses back up her legs, over her thighs, trailing up her hips and waist. She makes her way up Mira’s sides, deliberately skipping over her breasts in favour of kissing along her upper chest and neck.

Immediately after Rumi kisses her shoulder, she sinks her teeth down hard.

Mira throws her head back with a whine, her hands jerking down to grab at the back of Rumi’s head, tangling in her hair. She nearly whimpers at the flurry of soothing kisses Rumi plants against the bite, outright moaning when Rumi licks a stripe up from the base of her neck to her ear, nipping gently at her earlobe. Mira squirms underneath her, hooking her legs over Rumi’s hips to pull her in closer.

Rumi hums softly, kissing across her jaw, hands bracketing either side of Mira’s head when she leans in to actually kiss her properly again. Mira surges up to kiss her as hard as she’s able to, wincing when their teeth clack together—if Rumi is bothered by it, she makes no movement or noise to show it, opting to slip one hand off of the bed and over Mira’s throat. Mira keens into the touch, arching her back as she does her absolute best to press herself further into Rumi, into her palm, a silent plea for her to squeeze.

Rumi does, licking into Mira’s mouth at the same time. Mira gasps and jerks her hips again, tightening her grasp on the back of Rumi’s head, her other hand scratching down her spine. She revels in the soft moan that gets her, greedily swallowing the sound as she kisses Rumi harder. Rumi responds in turn, her fangs grazing Mira’s bottom lip as she pulls back. 

“Z-Zoey’s probably coming back soon,” Mira whispers, ignoring how wrecked her voice sounds. “Just...you know.”

Rumi laughs, grinning down at her. Mira ignores that in favour of focusing on the stab of pride she feels at how breathless Rumi is, eyeing her heaving chest, watching the flush spread from her cheeks down to her chest. She really, really likes the pink of Rumi’s patterns right now, how they nearly match the colour of Mira’s hair.

“Mhm?” Rumi asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Up to you if you want Zoey to fuck you, I guess,” Mira rasps out, trying to adopt a note of disinterest that she hardly feels. 

“Hm,” Rumi hums, lazily dragging a finger down Mira’s chest. Mira hisses out a breath of surprise when Rumi’s other hand cups over her breast, kneading over her nipple. It’s barely an actual warning, and she gets even less of a warning when Rumi suddenly dips her head down to take Mira’s other nipple in her mouth, tongue swirling and laving around it intently. 

She throws her head back and moans when Rumi’s fangs graze over her, not biting or even really pressing hard enough to sting, but serving more as a reminder, maybe a warning. Mira whines, flexing her hands above Rumi’s back as she groans, squirming weakly under her. 

She didn’t think she was—sensitive, really. Anyone touching her breasts never really did much for her, but, fuck, Rumi is definitely doing something to her right now. Mira swears to god she’s never been so wholly wrecked as she is right now. 

Rumi pulls back with a satisfied hum, mouth latching onto Mira’s other nipple, repeating the action. She’s a little rougher this time, using her teeth just a bit more, and it has Mira jerking up into a more intense arch, head still tipped back as she works around a swallow, her heart pounding in her chest.

By the time Rumi pulls away and starts kissing down her stomach again, Mira is half-convinced she might just come from this alone. Rumi stops right at the waistband of her underwear, breath hot and laboured, dancing across her stomach, warm against her thighs.

“How do you want me?” Rumi asks, toying with the fabric. 

“You...” Mira lets out a trembling breath, trying to remember how to speak. “You said something about your tongue. Seems like you’ve got plans already,” she mumbles, ignoring the way her voice hitches, how it’s a little too high-pitched to be passed off as normal.

Rumi grins. “I guess I do.”

Mira whines when Rumi kisses her through her underwear. She gasps, clawing at the sheets when Rumi licks a strip down through the seat of her panties, tongue coming back up to lathe around her clit. Mira can’t quite keep herself from snapping her hips up harshly, her hand only just barely hovering above Rumi’s head rather than tangling in her hair. 

“Take them off,” Mira says, though she’s begging more than anything. 

“Yeah?” Rumi murmurs, kissing her inner thigh.

“Rumi, if you don’t fucking—” Mira is cut off by her own sharp gasp when Rumi pushes her underwear to the side, fingers dragging through her folds, knuckles pressed against her. She tilts her head back and whines, grabbing frantically at the sheets again as she plants her other hand over her mouth.

That doesn’t last for very long; Rumi’s other hand comes up, gently tugging at her arm. “Let me hear you, pretty girl,” she insists, quietly. “You sound so good. You’re doing such a good job.”

And fuck, if the praise doesn’t go straight between her legs. Mira lets out a strangled noise, her entire body jolting at Rumi’s words, which she has to notice, given how she suddenly beams up at her.

Rumi doesn’t waste time after that. She hooks Mira’s underwear over her thumbs, sliding it slowly down her hips and over her legs, bunching the fabric up and setting it on the edge of the bed rather than tossing it somewhere. It’s almost sweet how careful she is.

“You’re doing so well,” Rumi murmurs, lowering her head down, breath ghosting over Mira’s core. 

“Wait,” Mira breathes, watching as Rumi immediately looks back up at her, patient as ever. “I’m—I’m kind of hard to, like, get off, or whatever. So don’t...be surprised if you can’t, it’s not you, I just—” she trails off, swallowing. “It’s just not easy for me. I’m still having a really good time.”

Rumi beams at her, gently kissing the inside of Mira’s thigh. “Okay.”

“And don’t take it as a challenge,” Mira warns. “Rumi.”

“What?” Rumi asks, grinning now. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You have tha—holy fuck, Rumi!” 

Mira feels like she’s been struck by lightning when Rumi’s tongue slides between her folds, lapping at her softly. She lets out a stuttering moan, head tipped back, arching as she rolls her hips into Rumi’s face. She almost wants to apologise for that, but then Rumi’s hands are on her hips and she’s pushing herself further against Mira, so clearly it’s not a big deal. Rumi is relentless, dragging her tongue along Mira’s clit, circling over her entrance, pressing inside of her. 

Mira whines, gasping and writhing under Rumi’s touch, bucking into her mouth, whimpering at how Rumi’s nails dig lightly into her thighs. She doesn’t have much time to think about Rumi’s hands on her before she’s being dragged forward a little more, her legs coming to settle over Rumi’s shoulders. It’s with that movement that Rumi really starts eating her out, tongue firm against Mira’s clit, dragging over her with ease, teasing her entrance, looping over her core time and time again. 

Rumi has her breathless and dizzy within minutes, if even that. Mira swears to god she sees stars, her entire body responding in tune, playing out right into Rumi’s hands as if she’s nothing more than putty seeping through her fingers. She can barely think, only managing to gasp out, “Rumi, fuck, fuck, don’t stop, holy shit, oh my god,” as Rumi thrusts her tongue back inside of her.

Mira nearly yells when Rumi’s fingers come back up over her pussy, one pressing at her entrance. 

“Yes,” Mira rushes out, “Fuck, yes, yes, please—you can, you can, oh my god, Rumi—”

It’s something of a miracle when Rumi’s finger actually slides inside of her. Mira grabs at her shoulders, frantically rolling her hips into Rumi’s mouth and hand, whimpering when Rumi’s finger curls just right and leaves her seeing stars, fuzziness dancing along the corner of her vision. 

“Add another,” Mira pants out. “Please.”

Rumi doesn’t hesitate. Mira swears that she’s so wet that Rumi’s second finger hardly feels like anything at all, pushing inside of her with ease. She grinds down against Rumi’s hand, whining as Rumi thrusts in and out of her, tongue still fully attentive over her clit, drawing out breathless moans and whimpers that she can’t completely bite back in time. Not like she’d even be able to in the first place, Mira thinks, not when Rumi is fucking her senseless.

Rumi keeps up her pace without even a beat of hesitation. Her fingers work and stretch Mira with ease, and she clenches around them desperately, snapping her hips to meet every thrust, gasping every single time Rumi does something with her tongue. Mira is so lost in the feeling of it all that she barely even realises that the coil in her stomach starts getting tighter and tighter, with each curl of Rumi’s fingers leaving her dizzier than she thought she possibly could be.

It’s when Rumi pulls back for just a second—her fingers still relentlessly thrusting in and out of her—to bite down on Mira’s thigh, that she completely loses herself.

It happens so fast that Mira barely has any time to rush out a strangled, “Oh—fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming,” before she’s clenching down hard on Rumi’s fingers, fucking herself into the palm of Rumi’s hand, whining so loud she swears her noises could be heard from anywhere in the tower. 

Mira can barely breathe as Rumi fucks her through her orgasm, her eyes rolling into the back of her head when Rumi’s tongue returns to her, lapping at her gently, guiding her through it. She digs her nails into Rumi’s hair, her breathing unsteady and weak as she hisses out a string of curses followed by Rumi’s name, interspersed with a few dozen pleas. 

She slumps into the bed, her heart pounding in her chest as she desperately tries to catch her breath, so lightheaded she’s convinced she might actually die if she tries to move or do literally anything else other than melt into her sheets and blankets and pillows. Rumi gently pulls her mouth away, pulling her fingers out from inside her a second later, murmuring a soft apology when Mira lets out a low whine—she’s not entirely sure if she’s complaining about the brief overstimulation or at the loss of them, or maybe both.

It hardly matters when Rumi comes to settle above her, peppering kisses all over Mira’s jaw and cheeks, murmuring soft praises right into her ear, calling her pretty, whispering how good she did. Mira doesn’t exactly mean to preen, but she thinks it happens anyway, if Rumi’s breathy laugh is anything to go by. 

She thinks she’s only really out of it for a minute or two at best, but by the time she’s willing to open her eyes again, she finds that Zoey is standing in the doorway, wearing a wide grin. Mira feels her mouth get even drier when she drags her eyes down Zoey’s figure, landing squarely on a harness and strap hanging directly between her legs. 

“Hi, pretty girl,” Zoey murmurs, waving a little with her free hand—she has water, Mira notes half a second later. “Guess she really did a number on you, huh?”

“She likes being bitten,” Rumi, helpful as ever, says. 

“Oh my god, shut up,” Mira groans and rolls her eyes, weakly planting her hand on Rumi’s face to shove her away. Rumi just laughs, grabbing Mira’s wrist, softly kissing the palm of her hand. That kills all the fight she had, though it was admittedly very little fight in the first place, and Mira opts to just sigh and melt into the touch.

Zoey giggles, crawling onto the bed, kneeling a bit away from Mira’s face. “Can you sit up to drink, or am I gonna have to waterboard you?”

“Would kill the mood,” Mira mutters, letting out a low hiss of protest as she sits up, her legs trembling with the action. “Fucking—she’s an animal. You left me alone with a monster.”

Rumi grins, looking stupidly proud of herself. Mira’s about to tease her a little more, but then she catches sight of the wetness—from her—on Rumi’s lips and jaw, smeared across her cheeks. She’s already left breathless by the sight, but then Rumi has the audacity to raise her hand and—she takes her fingers into her mouth, lapping up Mira’s wetness right off of them.

“Holy fuck,” Mira whispers, right at the same time that Zoey breathes out, “Rumi, good god.”

Zoey glances over at her, hastily putting the glass of water on the nightstand. “Sorry,” she apologises, holding up one finger. “One sec.”

Mira snickers at the yelp Rumi lets out when she’s unceremoniously mauled, with Zoey grabbing her by the hips and kissing her so hard it has to hurt. Mira is more than happy to watch, lazily grinning as she props herself up a little further, head tipped to the side. Rumi’s soft little whines and moans go straight between Mira’s legs, and she clenches around nothing, feeling painfully empty. She’s almost tempted to just finger herself, but she manages to resist—Zoey probably would make her regret it, if Mira goes off of everything else she’s learnt about her tonight.

She’s left a little more breathless the longer the kiss goes on, her heart pounding at the way Rumi grabs at Zoey’s shoulders, or how Zoey snakes her thumbs under the waistband of Rumi’s boxers. Mira feels her breath hitch when Zoey’s hand fully slips between Rumi’s legs, squeezing her thighs together at the soft, needy sound that comes out of Rumi’s mouth, albeit muffled. 

When Zoey pulls back, her fingers are soaked to the first knuckle, and Mira swallows thickly, nearly drooling at the sight. For half a second, she’s convinced Zoey is going to bring them up to her mouth in the same manner that Rumi had, but then Zoey is—is looking at her, eyes nearly predatory as her lips tug up into a wild grin.

“Want a taste, pretty girl?” Zoey asks, voice low and even.

Mira swears to god they’re going to kill her tonight.

She surges up without bothering to say anything, grabbing at Zoey’s wrist, only for Zoey to pull back and give her a look. “I asked if you wanted something,” she reinforces, arching an eyebrow. “Do you?”

Alright. Mira might kill them, actually.

“You know I do,” Mira mutters.

Zoey just shrugs, her grin turning downright evil. “Do I? Come on, Mira,” she presses, giving her another look. “You’ve been such a good girl for us this whole night. I heard you with Rumi. Begging for her, whining for her,” Zoey continues, voice getting lower and lower with each word. “You sound so pretty when you beg, love. Be good and ask.”

Mira is left squirming by the time Zoey is done speaking, a fuzzy sort of haze in the back of her mind. She has the distant thought that she really should not be as easy as she is, but that thought doesn’t last for very long before Mira’s mouth is opening without her say-so, and she’s quietly asking, “Can I?”

“Can you what?” Zoey asks back, eyes softer. 

“Fucking...” Mira groans, huffing out a breath. “I want to taste her, Zoey. I want your fingers in my mouth, I want to taste Rumi. Can you just—fuck, please, I want it.”

Zoey grins. “Good girl. Open.”

Mira swears that it’s not fair how quickly her jaw drops. It’s not fair how good it feels when two of Zoey’s fingers push into her mouth, brushing against her tongue, pushing further and further until Mira sputters a little. Zoey pulls back after that, murmuring a quiet apology—something about Rumi—but she doesn’t stop gently thrusting her fingers in and out of Mira’s mouth. It’s a slow, steady pace, but it has Mira moaning nonetheless. She laps Rumi’s wetness off of Zoey’s fingers, and the thought of that alone is enough to have her clenching her thighs together, her breathing going back to being unsteady and uneven as she drags her along Zoey’s fingers.

Her eyes flutter closed as Zoey fucks into her mouth, her entire body buzzing as she takes and takes and takes. Zoey eventually pulls back, her fingers spilling from Mira’s mouth with a wet ‘pop’ that has Mira flushing even harder.

“Good girl,” Zoey repeats, her other hand moving to cup Mira’s jaw. “Your mouth feels so good, Mir. Maybe next time you can suck me off,” she murmurs, the low hum of her voice going right between Mira’s legs, her clit nearly throbbing at the words.

“Fuck,” Mira whispers with a breathy whine. “You’re fucking—you’re going to kill me.”

“Maybe!” Zoey teases, giggling. “Drink, pretty girl. Rumi’s going to get me ready.”

Mira scoffs, scooting back along the bed to get closer to the nightstand. “Yeah, because that’s inspiring me to look away,” she mutters, rolling her eyes at the way Zoey just laughs at her. Rumi, at least, has the decency to look somewhat sheepish, but it’s completely ruined when she giddily slides off the bed and onto the ground. Mira drinks about half the glass, trying to not gulp it down and take it in sips, but it’s difficult when she can see Rumi and Zoey out of the corner of her eye.

Mira sets the glass back down just in time to catch Rumi taking Zoey’s cock, right to the base.

Right. No gag reflex. 

Mira’s breath catches in her throat. She drags her hands down her face, listening to Zoey’s quiet moan, shuddering at the noise Rumi makes when Zoey pulls out halfway, pushing back into her mouth a second later. Rumi’s hands stay settled on Zoey’s thighs, her head tilted up, looking at her, and Mira swears she’s going to die, she’s definitely going to die, they’re going to kill her, and she’s probably going to have to thank them for it by the end.

Zoey fucks Rumi’s face without any sort of hesitancy. She’s not rough, but she’s not exactly slow and tentative, her hips rolling easily into Rumi’s face, cock sliding in and out of her mouth. Rumi bobs her head, pulling back every now and then so she can lick at Zoey’s head, kissing along the shaft, using her other hand to hook around and pump Zoey further into her mouth. 

Mira hisses out a low groan when Zoey’s hand comes to tangle in Rumi’s hair, hips snapping forward a little more harshly, grinding into her once Rumi’s nose is buried against the fabric bunched up at the hilt. Mira forces herself to have her nails curled into the sheets to keep herself from touching herself, desperate even though she came barely ten minutes ago.

Which is fucking—insanely new. She guesses it’s her fault for telling Rumi directly to not take it as a challenge, because it very quickly turned into one. 

Mira watches as Zoey eventually pulls out of Rumi’s mouth completely, tracing her finger along her jaw, murmuring a few words of praise before she turns back to face Mira with another one of those looks. Mira doesn’t even wait to be told to do anything, opting to just lay down and spread her legs, arms propped up beside herself as she watches Zoey expectantly. 

“Like this,” Mira mumbles, swallowing around nothing. “I want to see you.”

“Done,” Zoey agrees without a second of hesitation. “Do you want Rumi behind you? Like how we were on the couch?”

Mira nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Zoey beams, wrapping her arms around Rumi briefly when she stands, peppering a few dozen kisses to her shoulders and back. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

Rumi snorts, shaking her head with a grin as she slips back onto the bed. She saunters around Mira, kind of exactly like a tiger stalking her prey, before she settles behind her, coaxing Mira’s head into her lap. “I can get a pillow if you want,” Rumi gently offers. “Just let me know.”

“This is fine,” Mira promises, watching Zoey kneel on the bed, approaching her with the exact same look Rumi had. “Better than fine. Really good. Great.”

Zoey giggles, ducking her head. “Golden?”

“Iridescent,” Mira corrects with a grin. “Well. It’d be iridescent if you were inside me.”

“We’re getting there,” Zoey assures her with a pat on the leg. She pauses for a second, and Mira watches with rapt attention as she procures a bottle of lube that she had to have had put on the bed before, uncapping the bottle and pouring some of it out onto her hand. Mira nearly drools at the sight of Zoey sliding her hand around her shaft, pumping up and down, coating the dildo fully. 

Not like Mira needs it, she’s sure. They probably should have put a towel down.

Zoey comes to settle between her legs, dragging the tip of her cock between Mira’s folds. Mira hisses out a breath of surprise, head tipped back, finding Rumi smiling gently down at her. She blindly pats the bed for a few seconds until Rumi’s hand is in her own, squeezing softly, reassuringly. Mira intertwines their fingers, pressing herself up a bit so Zoey has more space to work with.

“Ru,” Zoey says, nodding at her. “Can you get me a pillow?”

Mira is hardly surprised at how well they work together, though it sometimes catches her off guard even now. Rumi doesn’t waste a single second in grabbing a pillow, just like how Zoey doesn’t waste a single second in taking it from her and hiking Mira’s legs up so she can put said pillow under her hips. Mira wriggles in place a little, trying to adjust to where she’s comfortable, letting out a content sigh when manages to get there.

Zoey smiles, tapping her thigh. “Good?”

“Great,” Mira agrees. She feels herself practically trembling as Zoey wraps her hand around her cock, slowly, slowly teasing her with the tip again. She already knew how wet she was, but it’s different when she can feel how easily Zoey glides through her, sliding between her folds without any sort of resistance. Zoey lets out a low groan, and Mira can’t help but shiver at the noise. 

“You’re so wet, pretty girl,” Zoey whispers, sounding a little too breathless. That does insane things for Mira’s ego—it’s just like hearing Rumi moan into her mouth. “God, you’re drenched. Rumi fucked you pretty good, huh?” she asks. Mira lets out a shuddering breath, whining a little when Zoey pulls back. “Rumi fucked you pretty good, didn’t she?” Zoey presses again.

Mira lets out a frustrated noise, tilting her head back just in time to catch sight of Rumi’s soft smile. “She asked you a question, Mir,” Rumi murmurs. “Be good for her.”

For her. 

Mira screws up her face, pathetically rolling her hips forward as she wrestles down that same stupid sliver of pride that still hasn’t gotten the memo yet. “She did,” Mira eventually rasps. “Made me come so hard I...” she trails off, twisting her head to the side.

“Yeah?” Zoey presses. “She made you come so hard you...?”

As soon as she stops speaking, Zoey presses the tip of her cock against Mira’s entrance. Mira lets out a startled whine, flexing her empty hand, squeezing Rumi’s tightly. “Saw stars,” Mira rushes out. 

“Good girl,” Zoey murmurs, sliding in slowly. Mira groans, tightening her grasp on her sheets. Zoey steadily pushes in, inch by inch—it’s an admittedly small strap, which Mira is thankful for. She’s never been all that interested in anything big, especially not the insane sizes she’s seen advertised. This is perfect, Zoey is perfect, her and Rumi. “Feeling okay?”

“Good,” Mira pants out, nodding the best she’s able to. “Really good.”

Zoey beams, placing a comforting hand over Mira’s stomach as she continues to sink inside of her. “You’re taking me so well, pretty girl. Fuck, you’re so tight, oh my god. Rumi, was she—?”

“Yeah,” Rumi breathlessly agrees. “Yeah, she was.”

Mira throws her head back, squeezing her eyes shut as firmly as she can. The way they’re talking about her, as if she’s not even there...it has her rolling her hips forward, bucking up into Zoey, clenching down hard. “Fuck, you can—I can take it, please,” Mira whispers, grasping Rumi’s hand harder. “Zoey, I need you in me, like, right fucking now, please.”

Zoey, for once, for the first time ever, complies without any stipulation. She sinks the rest of the way in, moaning at the same time Mira does. Mira can feel Rumi’s shaky exhale, the way she lets out a soft whine. Zoey has to notice, too, because not even a second later she’s asking, “Yeah, Ru? You like seeing me fuck her that much?”

“Yes,” Rumi immediately breathes out. “Y-yeah, I do.”

“Good,” Zoey says, sounding just as wrecked as Mira feels. “Can I move, pretty girl? Are you ready for me?”

Mira frantically nods, reaching out to grab at Zoey’s shoulder, hand slipping down her arm. “Yeah—yes, I’m...please,” she mumbles. Zoey smiles at her, and then she’s finally, finally moving. She moves slowly at first, tentatively dragging out of Mira before pressing back in. It has Mira groaning, her breath stuttering as she tightens her grasp on Zoey’s arm.

It doesn’t take very long before Zoey sets a steady-yet-manageable pace, her hips slowly rolling into Mira’s, pressing in and out of her with ease. Mira whines at the feeling of being stretched full, her eyes fluttering shut as she focuses on Zoey sliding inside of her, the feeling of her cock dragging back out, the noises both Zoey and Rumi are making around her. Zoey is a little quieter, but she still gasps and moans each time she drives herself back into Mira fully, and Rumi is unabashedly whining, her other hand tangling in Mira’s hair, scratching against her scalp, tightening every now and then when Mira lets out a moan of her own.

Zoey’s hand eventually comes to find her own, and Mira is more than happy to grab at her properly, throwing her head back when Zoey thrusts into her a little harder. 

“Fuck,” Mira whines, arching her back, rolling her hips to meet each one of Zoey’s perfectly-timed thrusts. “Holy fuck, Zoey—don’t stop, don’t stop,” she hisses out, digging her nails hard into Rumi’s hand. She almost feels bad, but she swears she hears Rumi whimper when she does it, so she keeps her grasp steady.

“You feel so good,” Zoey pants, her other hand snaking up Mira’s chest, settling right at her throat, squeezing just enough. Mira moans, letting go of Zoey’s hand to wrap around her wrist, holding her there. “Fuck, Mira, you feel so good, you’re doing so good. You’re so pretty like this,” Zoey gasps with a particularly hard thrust.

“Doing so well,” Rumi whispers from above her. “You look so good with Zoey in you, Mira. You’re—oh my god, I might come just from watching you, fuck.”

Mira groans, wrapping her legs around Zoey as she frantically drives her hips up, meeting each one of her thrusts. Zoey adjusts, just barely, but it’s enough for each thrust to hit a different angle inside Mira that has her absolutely writhing. She whines when Zoey keeps hitting that spot inside of her that has her seeing stars all over again, that brings the slight fuzziness in her head all the way to the forefront of her mind. She can barely breathe as Zoey fucks her harder, pulling fully out of her only to slam into her again. 

Rumi’s hand comes down to work over her clit, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. Mira lets out a silent whine, her voice dying out in her throat when Zoey bucks her hips just right, and—

Mira lets out a broken moan, tears pricking the corner of her eyes when she nearly teeters right off the edge. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m close,” she whines, her breathing heavy and laboured. “I’m close, don’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck, Zoey, Rumi—!”

Rumi clearly redoubles her efforts, and Zoey just lets out a breathless groan, tightening her grasp on Mira’s throat. “Come for me, pretty girl,” Zoey murmurs. “I want to see you come on my cock, Mira, come on, please, fuck.”

That’s all it takes for Mira to break. She throws her head back and whimpers, arching so far off the bed she’s half-certain she’s ascending. Zoey snaps her hips forward over and over and over again, drawing another round of gasps and whines and whimpers right from the back of Mira’s throat, fucking her well past her second orgasm. Rumi doesn’t let up, either, and Mira is left gasping and writhing as they keep touching her, keep fucking her senseless. She feels totally weightless—near boneless—by the time she’s able to weakly bat at Rumi’s hand, limply sinking into the mattress after.

Rumi pulls back with some kind of murmured praise, her hand settling comfortingly at Mira’s side, tracing small circles against the skin there. Zoey’s hips stutter against hers, drawing another broken moan from her, but she eventually comes to a complete stop a few seconds later.

For a while, none of them say anything at all. Mira can barely work out the gentle praise and reassurance from the two of them, though it leaves her feeling fuzzy and hazy regardless, kind of like she’s been submerged into a weighted blanket in the form of Rumi and Zoey.

Zoey squeezes at Mira’s thigh, tapping her a few times after. The gesture is enough to make Mira blearily open her eyes, blinking in Zoey’s direction. She’s met with Zoey’s brilliant, beautiful smile, feeling her hands massage her thighs, gentle and soft.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Zoey murmurs. “I’m gonna pull out now, okay?”

Mira groans, squeezing her eyes shut again. “I guess.”

Zoey snickers before she carefully pulls back. Mira can’t really help but whine again, her breath stuttering as she clenches around nothing at all, feeling miserably empty. She’s distracted from that by the feeling of Rumi’s hand moving up to her face, brushing away some of her hair, cradling her gently. 

“You did so well, Mir,” Rumi whispers, planting scattered kisses to the top of her head. “Zoey’ll get some more water in a sec. And a washcloth.”

“Should’ve put a towel down,” Mira says with a heaving sigh. “My bed is ruined.”

“We can clean it,” Rumi promises, softly laughing. “We’ll do a deep clean tomorrow, okay? And we’ll shower in the morning, too.”

Mira hums, closing her eyes as she drags her legs up to her chest, curling into Rumi the best she’s able. “Yeah, sure. I’m not cleaning it. You did this.”

Rumi snorts. “Me?”

“You heard me,” Mira grumbles, pressing her face into Rumi’s bare chest, listening to her heartbeat. “Did you—?” Mira cuts herself off, tilting her head to look up at her. “Rumi, wipe your face.”

“I was busy!” Rumi laughs, one of her hands sliding through Mira’s hair, scratching down her scalp, to the nape of her neck. Mira practically melts into the touch, eyes fluttering shut again even despite how badly she wants to keep them open so she can keep looking at Rumi. “Zoey’ll bring another washcloth.”

Mira rolls her closed eyes, grinning a little now. “Sure.”

She’s not sure how long Zoey is gone for—it can’t be for more than a minute or two, it’s not like the distance from Mira’s room to the kitchen is all that far—but it’s long enough that Mira feels herself slipping away into a state between awakeness and not. She’s just about to slip to the total other side when she hears soft footfalls from the hallway, which quickly turn into louder footsteps through the doorway of her bedroom. She just barely manages to crane her neck, raising her head as she catches sight of Zoey hopping back on the bed, scooting closer to both of them.

“Hey, pretty girls,” Zoey greets, beaming. “Tired out?”

“Shocker,” Mira mutters, but she can’t fight back her own smile. “I love you.”

Rumi’s rumbling kicks back up in full after that. Mira almost wishes she wasn’t so tired so she could actually tease her for that. “I love you, too, Mira,” Rumi murmurs. “You gotta drink a little more.”

“So do you, babe,” Zoey adds with a disapproving click of her tongue. “Your throat? I know you have, like, literally no gag reflex, but still. You gotta lock in, Ru.”

Mira scoffs, grinning a little harder. “Don’t say that after fucking me into, like, oblivion, Zoey.”

Zoey just grins right back at her. “I love you so much, Mira, but I’m also totally gonna keep saying that. Guys, I just wanna say that we all did a super, mega good job, and we all should be proud. Really stellar experience, all around. Me and you? Me and we? We and me? We are killing it at sex.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Mira laughs, blindly reaching out to swat at Zoey’s arms. She doesn’t get in many shots before Zoey is giggling and collapsing on top of her, pressing about a thousand kisses to her bare arms and shoulders. It’s enough to make Mira relent, even if it’s not enough to make her forget all those ridiculous comments. 

Rumi only continues to purr, sounding beyond thrilled when she says, “Happy Valentine’s day! And anniversary. Oh—our anniversary!” she giggles, outright giddy now. “It’s on Valentine’s day!”

Mira snorts. “Uh-huh? I literally said that.”

“When?” Rumi asks, disbelieving. “I don’t think you did. Oh my god, wait, Mira—you—your contacts? Are they still in? You were wearing them, right?”

“Were you just, like, rawdogging it when you went out?” Zoey asks, clicking her tongue.

“Can you stop saying that?” Mira groans, rolling her eyes. “Yes, they’re in. Yes, I wore them out. Obviously.”

Zoey clicks her tongue again, somehow more disapprovingly this time. “Gotta get those out, babe. Oh, here, open your eyes, I’ll do it for you.”

Mira gags, ignoring the way Zoey bursts out laughing. “Ew, no. Who knows where your fingers have been?”

“In your mouth?” Zoey offers with a stupid grin, waggling her eyebrows individually. 

“Yeah, that’s the bad part,” Mira mutters. “Fine. Fine. Get up with me to go to the bathroom, and then we’re sleeping in Rumi’s room.”

“Done and done!” Zoey agrees, scurrying off of Mira with an urgency she can only fathom having. 

She’s infinitely slow to rise, slower to even get off the bed, but she eventually manages. Rumi comes up last, though it’s mostly so she can wrap her arms around Mira from behind, head on her shoulder, kissing along her back as they slowly but surely amble into the bathroom like that. It only gets worse when Zoey realises what they’re doing, and suddenly she’s pretty much superglued to Mira’s front, which only makes the shambling harder to achieve and go through with.

They manage, though. Somehow. By a force of otherworldly power, or something.

Mira is doted on the entire time—she rolls her eyes about a thousand times as both Zoey and Rumi kiss her all over, kneading out her muscles, patting her back in a way that hardly seems fitting for what they’ve just done, but it makes both of them laugh, so Mira’s happy to go along with it. She washes her hands about a dozen times before she takes out her contacts, nearly poking herself in the eye when Zoey cheers her on, breaking down into a fit of laughter when Rumi solemnly nods and joins in the stupid cheering.

She does also manage to get her contacts out. Somehow. Definitely by a force of otherworldly power for that one.

By the time they make it to Rumi’s bedroom, Mira is ready to collapse and go to sleep for a thousand years. She’s goaded into drinking a little more by Rumi, who gets goaded into drinking more by Zoey, and Mira takes the time to goad Zoey into actually drinking for the first time since they started. Zoey’s ridiculously sheepish look is enough to make Mira fall in love with her all over again.

She’s coaxed into the middle. Zoey wraps her arms and legs around her, giggling about being the ‘biggest spoon’, while Rumi drags Mira closer to her, scooting up far enough so that her head rests atop Mira’s.

It’s quiet for a while; Mira is more than happy to listen to their breathing, to the soft hum of Rumi’s fan, the gentle trill of the honmoon around them.

“Love you,” Mira whispers, feeling warmer than she ever has in her life. “Happy, like, three hours.”

Zoey giggles, kissing the back of her neck. “Love you guys! Happy four hours!”

Rumi lets out a breathless little huff that Mira can feel against the top of her head. “I love you both,” she murmurs. “Happy forever.”

Mira grins, holding onto both of them even tighter for that.

She thinks today might easily be the best Valentine’s day of her life.