Chapter Text
So, Zoey’s sort of realizing that she might have a crush on her bandmates.
This realization hasn’t really fazed her, to be fully honest. She’s had other realizations that were a little more earthshattering. The tooth fairy isn’t real—age 8, resulting in heartbreak and locking herself in her room for five hours. Demons are real, and she’s a demon slayer with built-in best friends and a destiny to save the world—age 17, incredible, she’s always wanted to be part of a magical girl anime. Rumi is a half-demon and has been keeping it from them for years—age 23, aka last week. Zoey’s not very proud of how she’d handled this one. In her defense, there was a lot going on at the time.
So there’s been some pretty mind-blowing realizations in her life. In comparison, realizing that she has feelings for her best friends seems… sort of natural.
Like, she’s always known that Mira and Rumi are crazy beautiful gorgeous. That’s been obvious from the day Zoey stepped off the audition stage and they immediately ran up to her, spouting some incomprehensible nonsense about a Honmoon and the spirit world and her destiny. And Zoey’s known for a few years now that she’s into girls—thank you Karrie from history class for that awakening. She just hadn’t really put those two facts together, or thought about their logical conclusion.
It’s just that Mira and Rumi are her friends. Her bandmates, her fellow Hunters. Sure, she’s always felt giddy whenever Rumi would compliment her, and she’d get butterflies in her stomach whenever Mira would guide her body during dance rehearsals, but she’d filed all those feelings away into a box labeled DO NOT OPEN and then locked the box and chucked it as far into the corners of her mind as she could manage, because she was busy and did not have time to deal with anything like that.
But now that things are calm after everything with Gwi-Ma and the Honmoon, she can feel herself pulling that box back out and peeking inside. The box–and her feelings–are resurfacing. Because here’s the thing— she sorta thinks her girls like her back. Mira’s been more possessive than usual; holding doors for her and placing her hand on the small of Zoey’s back and sort of always tracking Zoey’s movements with her eyes. And Rumi’s been extra jumpy recently, especially when Zoey or Mira touch her, and (Zoey’s pretty sure Rumi doesn’t know this) her patterns glow pink when she’s blushing.
And she’s been blushing a lot recently.
Something new is starting, Zoey can feel it. A possibility none of them had really considered until now, when there’s time and room to breathe. Sometimes a door opens that you hadn’t even realized was a door in the first place, like one of those secret passageway doors disguised as a bookshelf.
“My feelings for them are like secret bookshelf doors! That’s genius!” Zoey says out loud. Across the room, from where he lays curled up on the carpet, Derpy blinks his eyes open. He lifts his head to look at her. “Sorry boy, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” she adds apologetically. They’ve sort of adopted the demon tiger in the aftermath of everything. Or maybe, it’s less that they adopted him, and more that there’s no good way to get rid of him. Zoey’s not complaining, especially since the big guy likes hanging out in Zoey’s room.
(“He probably thinks all your stuffed animals are real,” Mira had noted when they’d returned home one day to find Derpy asleep in the middle of Zoey’s plushies. Then she’d raised her eyebrows. “Or maybe he thinks he’s a stuffed animal, too.”)
Luckily, the tiger has proven to be a very good listener. “You agree, right? That they like me back?” Derpy lets out a rumbling sound. Zoey still hasn’t pieced together what all of his growls and meows mean, but she’s pretty sure that one means Yes, Zoey, your friends definitely do like you back, and you should totally get them to kiss you.
“I completely agree, Derpy,” Zoey nods. From his perch on her vanity, Sussie makes a very sarcastic sounding caw. Zoey chooses to ignore him. “And I know they like each other. I’ve seen how Mira reacts when Rumi’s wearing a tanktop. Heck, I’ve seen how Rumi reacts when Mira’s wearing a tanktop!” Neither the girls are as subtle as they seem to think they are. Mira had nearly drooled the first time they’d seen Rumi come out of her room in short sleeves (Zoey’s not judging; she’d done the same).
“I’m not in a rush, though,” Zoey continues, since she has the demon animals’ attention. “There’s been so many changes lately, you know? We’re all still adjusting. I’ll just like, give them the signs, keep flirting with them, let them know I’m receptive. I’ll wait for them to make the first move,” she says. Derpy makes another sound, closing his eyes and lowering his head. Zoey nods. “I can be patient.”
“Derpy, they’re taking too long,” Zoey says, slamming shut the door to her room. Derpy looks up at her from the floor, and she smiles, and crosses over to pet him. “Hi, baby boy,” she says, distracted for a moment by how adorable he is and scratching behind his ears. “Did you miss me?” His tongue lolls out of his mouth and he lets out that rumbly purring sound.
“Okay, back to business,” she says, sitting down next to him. He lifts his chin and rests his head on her lap. “Oof!” she lets out at the impact. He’s kind of heavy.
It’s been another week, and despite her best efforts, neither of her friends have made a move on her yet. Zoey’s convinced them that they should all cuddle in Rumi’s bed every night to help with her nightmares (it does help, but also, Zoey just likes falling asleep with them). She presses kisses to their cheeks every time she passes them. She keeps knocking on their doors to ask for help zipping up her tops, and even though she’s never needed help with that before, they assist without question. Zoey can feel their eyes lingering on her. She can see how Mira’s eyes darken, or how Rumi licks her lips seemingly without realizing, but how come nobody is doing anything?
“Sometimes it feels like I’m the only person who gets things done around here,” she says. Derpy starts drooling on her leg. Zoey lets out a sigh. Well, at least she’s always been good at scheming. She reaches over to her desk, grabbing a notebook and pencil. She opens up the notebook.
“Okay, let’s come up with a plan,” she says, and starts writing.
For Rumi, it’s pretty straightforward. Give her lots of compliments (especially about the demon stuff, because Zoey knows she’s insecure about it), and touch her as much as possible. Zoey’s noticed, in the past few weeks, that even though she rarely asks for it, Rumi seems to really love physical contact. For years, she’d smile politely when Zoey would hug her abruptly or flop on top of her, but Zoey had always gotten the sense that there was some discomfort underneath. Now, though, as Rumi’s becoming more comfortable in her own skin, she’s more and more receptive to touch. In fact, she seems to crave it; the way she tries to control her smile when Zoey and Mira crawl into bed with her, the way her patterns glow pink when Zoey kisses her on the cheek or plays with her fingers. She still won’t ask for it herself, but that doesn’t mean Zoey won’t give it to her.
She finds Rumi one day lounging on the couch, and decides to try her luck. “Will you let me do your hair?” Zoey asks.
Rumi laughs, looking up from her phone with an amused expression, like she can’t imagine why Zoey would ask this. “My hair?”
Zoey, in fact, has wanted to get her hands in Rumi’s hair for a while, actually. She knows it’s super soft, and shiny, and long enough that she could style it in any fashion she desired.
She also wants to try tugging Rumi’s hair and seeing what’ll happen, but she’ll pause on that for now.
“We used to always do each other’s hair. During sleepovers and after shows and stuff.” This is all true, even if it’s not really the reason Zoey’s itching to do this. “But it’s been ages.”
“You want to do my hair?” Rumi clarifies. Honestly, it shouldn’t be so charming, how surprised Rumi is by this. But Zoey knows what she wants, so she pouts a little, and just as expected, Rumi immediately folds. “Okay,” she says.
Oldest trick in the book, really. Zoey beams, clapping her hands excitedly, and her own joy only grows when she sees a reluctant smile begin to form on Rumi’s face. She leaps onto the couch, wiggling in behind Rumi and picking up her braid. “Perfect! Okay, I was thinking about giving you space buns, so we can match, but I also want to see what you’d look like with French braids.” She pulls the tie off of Rumi’s braid and begins unweaving. Rumi’s hair is even softer than she’d expected, and surprisingly light and bouncy despite its length. She watches as Rumi’s shoulders relax as she settles in to the touch.
“Your hair looks so pretty when it’s down like this,” Zoey notes. One of her goals, she’s decided, once she gets Rumi to kiss her, is to convince Rumi to wear her hair down more often. It makes her look like a princess, all wavy and flowy down her back.
“You think so?” Rumi asks.
“Mhmm,” Zoey hums. Rumi seems so tense. Zoey can help with that. She moves her hands to Rumi’s scalp, rubbing her first two fingers against her temples in a gentle massage. She feels Rumi exhale, feels her sink into the touch. Then, to her delight, she hears a low rumbling, one that sounds just like—
“Did you just purr?” Zoey asks.
In front of her, Rumi tenses. “No!” she says, which is totally a lie, because Zoey knows what she heard.
“No, you totally did! Just like a little kitty!” Honestly, it’s doing crazy things for Zoey’s ego. Her hands in Rumi’s hair were enough to pull that delicious sound out of her? Zoey feels like she could fly.
“I’ve never… that’s never happened to me before,” Rumi says.
“I wonder if it’s a demon thing,” Zoey says. Experimentally, she moves her hands to the top of Rumi’s head, and continues massaging. The purring starts up again, even louder this time. Zoey can’t stop smiling. This is going much better than she could have ever predicted. She knows Rumi’s still really self-conscious about the demon parts of her, but this is just incredible, and she can’t have Rumi thinking otherwise. “Awww, this is so adorable! It means you’re feeling good!”
“Please don’t tell this to Mira. She’ll never let me live it down,” Rumi pleads.
Zoey actually thinks Mira’s gonna be totally jealous when she finds out about this. “She’ll think it’s cute, too, don’t worry,” she tells Rumi. She parts Rumi’s hair into two sections, deciding on space buns. So she wants her crush to match with her? Is that a crime? She pins one section to the side and begins to braid the other. “I’ve always been so jealous of your hair. So much volume, and so good at holding its color.” Then something hits her, so obvious that she’s shocked she hasn’t put it together sooner. “Oh my god, is your hair purple because you’re half demon?!” she asks.
Rumi laughs. “Um. I mean, probably? I don’t know anyone else who’s hair is naturally this color.”
“I thought you were just really good at touching up your roots!” Zoey complains.
“Nope. It’s just always been like this,” Rumi says. Zoey can hear the smile in her voice. She lets out a dramatic sigh.
“So not fair,” she says.
“What isn’t?” Rumi asks.
“You!” Zoey says. “You’re like, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, you have the voice of a freaking angel, and your hair is just naturally the perfect color? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She feels Rumi squirm in front of her, and watches as the patterns on her forearms glow soft pink. “Oh, um. Thanks?” Rumi says awkwardly. “But, I mean, Zoey, you’re stunning, too. And I really like your hair.”
Zoey giggles. Rumi’s so cute when she doesn’t know how to flirt. “Aww, you’re so sweet, Rumi!” Zoey says. She rolls the finished braid up into a bun, then begins braiding the other side. She continues, weaving the purple strands into place, then as she’s securing the second bun, she hears the front door open.
“What’s happening over here?” Mira asks. She’s got two bags of groceries that she sets down by the kitchen and a smile on her face as she takes in the scene in front of her. She walks over to the couch, eyes flicking between Zoey and Rumi with amusement, then she grabs a loose strand of Rumi’s hair, holding it between her fingers.
“Did you know her hair is purple because she’s a demon?!” Zoey asks.
One of her eyebrows ticks upwards. “I put that together, yes,” she says.
Zoey groans, collapsing backwards. “Not fair,” she grumbles.
“Scooch over,” Mira says to Rumi, before sitting down next to her. She looks over Rumi’s shoulder to Zoey. “I’ll help you dye your hair, Zoey. I have to do mine the old fashioned way.”
“Thank you,” Zoey says. She crosses her arms in front of her. “I mean, I don’t actually want to dye it, but it’s the principle, you know?”
“Of course,” Mira says. Then her eyes return to Rumi, who’s been sitting unnaturally still since Mira joined them. “You look cute with space buns,” she says, and Zoey gets the pleasure of watching Rumi’s patterns glow pink once again.
Then Zoey gets a great idea. “Can I do your hair next, Mira?” Zoey asks.
“Absolutely not,” Mira says, and Zoey pouts again.
She knows, of course, that she has to approach things differently with Mira than with Rumi. With Rumi, Zoey just has to kiss her on the cheek or snuggle up next to her on the couch, and she’ll get a reaction out of her. But Mira’s not as responsive to that sort of thing. Sure, she’ll welcome Zoey’s flops or bear hugs, and she’ll give Zoey that fond smile of hers, but Zoey’s been doing that kind of physical contact with her for years, and she needs to be sure that Mira knows she’s not doing it just as a friend. So Zoey needs to use her words, needs to be strategic, to make sure Mira knows she’s interested and available.
She finds an opportunity one evening. Rumi’s out for a run, so it’s just Zoey and Mira back at the loft. Zoey’s perched on the couch, munching on some shrimp crackers and laughing at a video on her phone, when she hears the door to Mira’s room open.
“Miraaaaa,” she trills, waving her hand to catch the other girl’s attention.
“Hi, Zoey,” Mira says affectionately. “Whatcha up to?” She crosses over to the couch, leaning over the back of it.
“Watching a video,” Zoey answers. She tilts her phone so Mira can see. “8 minutes and 43 seconds of Huntrix being super gay for each other.”
To her delight, Mira’s eyes go wide. “What!?” she asks, startled.
“Oh, it’s like, a compilation. People pull together all these clips of interviews and performances and stuff,” Zoey says easily.
“That’s not— what I was confused about. What do they mean, being gay for each other?” Mira asks.
“Come, sit,” Zoey instructs, patting the space beside her. Mira hesitates for a moment before climbing over the couch and sitting beside her. Zoey scrolls back a bit in the video. “Look. This was that interview we did with Teen Vogue Korea. Rumi keeps putting her hands on our thighs.”
“That’s because they put us on that tiny couch where we had no room to breathe,” Mira argues.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain why she’s looking at you like that,” Zoey says. On her phone, in the video, Mira starts answering a question. Both Zoey and Rumi turn their heads to watch. The angle of the video cuts out Zoey, but Rumi’s expression is clear. She’s smiling fondly at Mira, her head tilted slightly to the side, something close to wonder in her eyes. Here on the couch, Zoey watches as Mira’s cheeks pinken.
“And you’re watching this… for fun?” Mira asks.
“I’m watching it because it’s cute!” On her phone, the clip ends, and another one begins, of a behind-the-scenes video from their last tour. “Look, do you see how protective Rumi’s body language is here when that fan got a little too close? Everyone in the comments is saying she’s in possessive girlfriend mode.”
“But she’s not our girlfriend,” Mira says.
Zoey sighs dramatically. “That’s not the point. It’s just moments when the fans think we’re being cute together. Look, here’s a video from when we did ISAC last year, and you got all those bullseyes during the archery segment. In a second, it’s gonna cut over– yup, there’s me and Rumi. Our jaws are on the floor!” Zoey narrates.
“Have you seen this video before?” Mira asks.
“This whole video? No. Most of these clips? Yeah. You look so hot there. Competence is sexy.” Mira’s face turns red. Zoey has to keep herself from smiling. “I’ve watched a lot of these compilations. And read a lot of the Twitter threads. It’s like, a whole subset of our fanbase.”
When Mira speaks, her voice is hesitant, like she’s dipping her toes in the water but unsure if she wants to get all the way in. “Do people out there really think we’re, you know, gay for each other?”
“Oh, yeah,” Zoey nods. “I mean, can you blame them? We’re three hot, young, unattached women. None of us have ever been publicly in a relationship with a man. And, admittedly, we’re super affectionate with each other! People are gonna pick up on that!”
Mira fidgets in her seat. “And you don’t think that’s weird?”
“Definitely not. I was super into fandoms and stuff when I lived in America. If I was just a fan and not part of Huntrix, I’d totally be shipping the three of us,” she says.
Mira coughs awkwardly. “Really?”
“Totally. I’d probably be drawing fan art of all of us kissing or something.” She frowns. “Do you think it’s possible for three people to kiss at once?”
Mira jumps out of her seat. “I need to go, um. Shower,” she says, hurrying towards her door. “Good talk. See you later,” she says, before slamming the door shut. Zoey watches her go, then presses play on the video.
“We should get matching pajamas,” Zoey says that night, as the three get ready for bed. She’s looking in the mirror at her own set of patterned frog PJs and wondering what it would take to bribe the others into wearing an identical set.
“I wonder if we’ve ever made Huntrix pajamas,” Rumi says pensively, sitting at her desk and combing her hair. “Would people even buy that?”
Zoey gasps. “Okay, first off, that’s genius!” she exclaims. “Second, we need to get on that, right freaking now. I’m picturing a black base, with our logo a bunch of times in purple. Wait, no! It should be golden!”
Rumi lets out a laugh. “That’s pretty good. Maybe Mira can design something for the merch team.”
“Why am I designing it?” Mira asks, frowning. She’s sitting on the bed, her large wire glasses resting on the edge of her nose, looking unfairly cute as she scowls.
“Because you have the most opinions on the things we wear,” Rumi points out.
“You should be thanking me. If it weren’t for me, Zoey would exclusively wear baggy shirts with heinous patterns,” Mira says.
Zoey giggles. “But I still make it cute,” she says.
“Yes, because you’re adorable. That doesn’t change that I don’t want to be seen with someone who thinks Hawaiian shirts are a fashion statement.”
“So you’ll design them?” Zoey asks. She bats her eyes a few times for good measure, and watches as Mira stammers, her face growing red.
“I, uh. Yeah. I can design them,” Mira says.
“Sucker,” Rumi teases, crossing over and sitting beside Mira.
“You’re no better!” Mira argues.
“We should put our faces on the PJs!” Zoey suggests.
“Absolutely not,” Mira says. She lets out a sigh. “Pajama design tomorrow. Sleep now,” she says, then begins herding them all to the bed.
After a few weeks of sleeping together (NOT in that way)(unfortunately), they all have their assigned positions in Rumi’s bed. Mira takes one end of the bed, preferring to have an escape route if she gets too hot or claustrophobic during the night. She’s always preternaturally still as she sleeps—back in their debut days, when these sleepovers were much more common, Zoey would poke her in the middle of the night to make sure she was still breathing. Zoey takes the opposite end of the bed. She flops and rolls around a lot, always has, and she’s got a tendency to steal the blankets and then kick them off the bed. Mira calls her a menace to everyone else’s sleep cycles.
Rumi, it seems, wants to be touching the other two as much as possible. Zoey happens to think this is the most incredible thing ever. Rumi’s all shy about it, and she won’t go out and ask for the physical contact, but Zoey’s noticed she falls asleep more easily when someone’s holding her.
(And sometimes, when Zoey wakes in the middle of the night, she’ll find Rumi holding her right back. Rumi’s head tucked against Zoey’s shoulder, her patterns glowing a soft pearly white, and her hands clutching against Zoey’s sleep shirt like a lifeline. It always hits Zoey like a train, the love she feels for Rumi in those moments. Rumi, who spent so long denying parts of herself and the things she wanted. Sweet, strong Rumi, looking so content and relaxed as she sleeps between Zoey and Mira. It’s Zoey’s favorite thing in the world.)
Tonight, Zoey curls around behind her, wrapping her arms around Rumi’s torso. “You’re like the perfect stuffed animal to snuggle with,” Zoey says. She feels Rumi squirm a little in her grasp.
“Oh. That’s good,” Rumi says, and Zoey holds back a laugh at the bashfulness in her voice.
“I love sleeping with you two,” Zoey says, just to see what’ll happen. From in front of her, Rumi lets out a squeak. Then– thunk. Zoey gasps. “MIRA, DID YOU JUST THROW A PILLOW AT ME!?” she demands.
“No sexual innuendos when we’re in bed together,” Mira declares. Zoey tosses the pillow back towards her, but Mira bats it away easily. Zoey huffs out a sigh, then burrows her face into Rumi’s magnificent purple hair and closes her eyes.
Another perk of the hiatus is that Zoey’s been able to drag the girls along to the bathhouse about twice a week for the past month. Rumi, whose previous aversion to bathhouses Zoey now finally understands, absolutely loves going. Zoey’s not surprised at all; what’s not to love? And sure, Zoey is looking forward to the warm, meditative relaxation of the bathhouse, but that’s not her only motivation today. This is the perfect opportunity, the one she’s been building up to all week, to get Mira and Rumi to finally make a move on her. She can make it so obvious that she’s into them, and they’ll finally make a move, and then finally one of them will kiss her.
The entire bathhouse is empty other than them when they arrive (perks of being rich and renting out the place). Rumi and Mira chat as they get undressed in the locker room, but Zoey tunes them out.
“You two go on ahead, I’ll be right there,” she says, staring at the empty locker.
“Everything good?” Mira asks, glancing her way.
“Totally! Be right there!” Zoey says. The pair give her an odd look but step through the doors, leaving her behind. Zoey exhales.
Is this crazy? Is this all too much? Has she maybe been misreading the signs this entire time, and neither of them are even gay in the first place?
Well, no. There’s no way those girls are straight, and there’s no way they’re not into her. She’s got this.
She shimmies out of her clothes, but instead of wrapping herself in her towel, she clutches it in her hand. She takes a breath, then pushes open the door to the main room, and scampers towards the bath.
Both girls turn to look as they hear the door open, and both immediately avert their gazes when they clock that she’s not wearing anything.
“Zoey, where’s your towel?” Mira asks, voice strained.
“It’s in my hands!” she answers, crossing over to them.
“Yeah, but why aren’t you wearing it?” Mira asks.
Zoey shrugs, setting her towel down. She takes a moment to look at the two of them, since they’re refusing to look at her. Both girls have turned fully red, and Zoey’s pretty sure it’s not from the heat. Rumi’s patterns glow dark pink. “It’s just us. I have nothing to hide,” she says. She slowly climbs into the bath, luxuriating in the steamy warmth.
“Ahhhhh. That feels incredible,” Zoey says, leaning back so the tops of her breasts breach the surface of the water.
To her disappointment, neither of them even attempt to ogle her. Mira’s eyes lock onto the stone tiles on the side of the bath, and Rumi starts studying the freaking ceiling. “Wow, there’s such interesting lights up there, have you ever noticed?” she says.
Zoey lets out a hmmph and lets herself sink lower into the water.
“Still nothing, Derpy,” Zoey says with a sigh, flopping down on her bed. The tiger stares back at her wordlessly, as he is wont to do. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong here! I’m flirting with them! I’m giving them signs! I’m stripping naked in front of them! What more do I have to do?!”
Sussie, who’s built a nest on Zoey’s vanity, lets out an exasperated chirp. And Zoey’s not as good at interpreting Sussie’s noises as she is Derpy’s, but she thinks she knows what he’s saying, and she doesn’t want to hear it.
“God forbid a girl wants to be romanced every once in a while,” she grumbles. Derpy gets up from his spot on the floor, making his way over to Zoey. As he walks, he accidentally knocks a shoulder against her desk, and a handful of CD cases fall to the ground. Zoey watches as Derpy attempts to push the CDs into a pile. After each sweep with his paw, the CDs slide back to the ground. He sweeps them up, and they fall, and he sweeps them up again, and they fall again. Then Zoey gasps.
“I’ll take them dancing! That’s genius, Derpy!” she exclaims. She jumps to her feet, squeezing Derpy in a big hug. “We’ll listen to some sexy music. I’ll show off some sexy dance moves. They won’t know what hit them,” she says. Sussie rolls his eyes. Once again, she chooses to ignore him.