Work Text:
“Blankets?”
“Check!”
“Hoodies?”
“Right here.”
“Their favorite sweets?”
“Ta-da~!”
“Everything is scented?”
“Obviously.”
With each item the girls checked off, wrapped perfectly, the air grew thicker with their combined excitement and nerves. They ran through the list twice, then thrice, anxious, needing to make sure everything was there.
By all accounts, the gifts were good.
They were classic courting gifts: soft fabrics you could wrap yourself up in or even use as a nest. Treats that you enjoyed. Things that would bring you comfort.
Sure, none of them really had much experience when it came to courting an omega—their only experience being with each other—they were confident that these gifts were good.
Rumi had even reached out to Celine to check whether these gifts were good, and the older omega had assured them that you would love them. Adding that everything was scented, carrying a mixture of their pheromones, should make it impossible not to realize their intent.
The scenting was the important part. Without the scent attached to the gifts, they could be mistaken for just regular presents, not courting gifts.
Only…the problem was that they’ve been trying this for months, trying to court you for months, and no matter how obvious the gift was, you never seemed to notice.
Oh, you’d accept their gift, thank them for it, and they knew you were genuine in your gratitude. But the fact that they were courting gifts always seemed to go over your head.
It was frustrating.
It was making the three feel desperate, on their hands and knees, ready to beg for you to say something, be it rejection or acceptance, to pull them out of this horrible stagnation.
“This is going to work!”
Mira was the one who spoke up, confident, resolute, as if it was physically impossible not to work, a universal fact of life; irrefutable, indisputable. As if failure was simply not an option.
All the three had to do was stick to their plan, and it’d work. It had to work.
Oh god, please let it work.
.
.
.
You were already on site when they arrived, it had them feeling giddy as they navigated past the different cameramen and interns to get to your table at hair and makeup, carefully carrying their different gifts for you in their arms, arguing over who’d give their gift to you first.
Only for their mood to sour in an instant. You weren’t alone. No, you were caught in a conversation with one of the interns.
It wasn’t as if they didn’t like you talking to other people, they weren’t that quick to jealousy. They liked that you got along well with the crew even if the faces were constantly changing.
But this wasn’t just friendly banter. This was flirting. This was someone trying to hit on you, trying to woo you with whatever sad, pathetic lines her Reddit buddies said were good.
Something vicious starting to rear its head in them.
Either this intern had no shame, or she didn’t even realize how obvious she was being, because the air was thick with her pheromones.
She was practically leering as she hovered too close to you while talking. The air reeked of her intentions as she brushed her hand over yours, laughing at something you had said.
“Oooh, no. Absolutely not. We are not doing that,” Mira growled, and before Zoey or Rumi could even consider stopping her, the group’s visual stalked across the room towards you and the intern.
With perfect grace and burning fury beneath her skin, Mira had placed herself between you and the intern, using her body as a barrier.
“Hey,” she drawled out, forcing a smile as she looked at the intern, “What’s going on over here?”
Your expression had brightened when Mira showed up, and she didn’t hide the way it sent a rush of pride and delight through her. “Oh, we’re just chatting. She was asking about some different makeup styles.”
Mira nodded along, “Ah, is that so?” she asked, turning to face the intern again.
Usually, this is when the competition would back away. Huntr/x hadn’t made it a secret that they were trying to court you, and the people hired on to help them for whatever show or event they were doing were quick to realize keeping their job was more important than chasing you.
But this intern was braver than most. Rather than back down, she straightened her back and held her head higher in an act of defiance. “We are,” she bit back, “so do you mind?”
Mira was laughing on the inside. Oooh this girl thought she was tough shit just because she was an alpha, didn’t she? Probably the type who was used to getting everything she wanted, too, if Mira was to take a guess.
Well, she was going to find that Mira wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.
“I don’t mind at all,” she said, her smile growing sharper, pumping out her pheromones until the scent of cinnamon and ginger was overpowering the interns own. “I’d love to talk makeup.”
For a few moments, it looked like the intern was going to stand her ground, her eyes glinting to you before looking back up at Mira. Then her shoulders drooped, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I’ve actually—I got some work I should get to, anyway.”
With that, with her tail between her legs, she turned and walked away.
Once the woman was completely out of sight, Mira let her body relax. “Good riddance,” she muttered under her breath.
“Why’d you scare her off like that?” you asked when Mira turned to face you again. “We were just talking, I was looking forward to learning more about this French style she was talking about.”
A French style? Oh, for the love of—
“Sweetheart,” Mira said as gently as she could. “That woman was flirting with you. Badly.” At least in Mira’s opinion it was badly done, for the sole reason that she had been flirting with you.
You only blinked in response, tilting your head, the confusion written plainly across your face. “What—no, no, there’s no way she was flirting with me,” you said, brushing it off with an uncomfortable laugh. “I mean—I think I’d have noticed.”
No, you would not have. Not if these last few months have taught Mira anything. “She was flirting. I’m actually surprised you didn’t notice it with how thick she was laying it on with her pheromones.”
“Oh, right, I…uh, just didn’t notice, I guess.” Before Mira could press the issue, you pivoted the conversation, “but it’s good to see you again! Did you and the others have a fun date over the weekend? Zoey said you and her got into a volleyball game with some others at the beach?”
Mira felt her insides soften, “It was wonderful,” she murmured, though it would have been more wonderful if you had agreed to come with. But you had declined their invitation. “You really should come next time.”
“You know I always love spending time with you three, but I’d hate to intrude on your dates,” you said, as you often did when they invited you to join their dates.
“Right…right,” Mira tried not to let it show how much that bothered her, and instead thrusted the gift she was still carrying towards you. “Anyway, I, uh, I got you this, I hope you like it.”
You took the gift, eyes wide in surprise as you moved to rest it on your work counter. Mira felt her confidence begin to leak out, replaced by nerves as she watched you carefully peel back the wrapping paper.
“Oh—oh, wait, aren’t these yours?” you asked, picking up the top hoodie and holding it out.
Sure enough, it was Mira’s. Or it had been. One of her favorites, in fact.
A large, white, pullover hoodie. The cherry on top was that the hood was designed to resemble a polar bear head, complete with cute fuzzy ears, and polar bear paws on the front.
The other was simpler, but also one of Mira’s. A beige hoodie, warm and durable, but not one that would stand out so much.
Both still had Mira’s scent clinging to them just as strongly as when she’d wrapped them, filling the air in that warm smell of hers.
Now they were yours.
Gifting an omega brand new things were fine and dandy, but providing her own clothes and belongings as a gift added a sense of intimacy that couldn’t be attained by just grabbing something off a shelf.
And so, Mira had chosen the two of her favorite hoodies, ones she knew were soft and comfortable, ones that she hoped you would enjoy, that you would think of her every time you wore them.
A smile spread across your face as you ran your hand down the soft fleece lining the inside of the second hoodie. “I love these, thank you so much,” you breathed, and Mira felt the hold on her heart ease. “I actually feel bad I don’t have anything to give you in return.”
“You don’t need to give me anything in return,” Mira said quickly, still smiling as she reached out to push a strand of hair out of your face. “Spending time with you is the best gift I can get.”
You laughed, shaking your head, “You’re such a sap, if those are the lines you used on Rumi and Zoey, I can see how they fell for you,” you carefully pulled the wrapping paper back around the hoodies to protect them, tucking them on a shelf under your counter. “But, really, you’re always such a good friend to me, I want to get you something in return.”
And just like that, the vice-hold was back, her heart collapsing in its grip.
“Aaah, yeah, that’s me, a ‘good friend,’” Mira agreed, trying her best to not sound too bitter about the term.
.
.
.
Zoey’s turn was next.
She and Rumi had taken some time to console Mira when she came back to them, sulking over the friend comment you had made, assuring her that it was okay, that she was fine. Her gifts had still been well-received, and imagine how cute you would look wearing the polar bear hoodie.
It had helped to lift her mood a little, and though she hid it well, her mates could tell she was still feeling dejected over it.
Which meant it was Zoey’s job to make things right, so she could make Mira feel better and sate her need to make out with you until she was dizzy. She was going to give you her gift, blow you away with the undeniable power of her rizz, and then you’d agree to date the three of them.
She had everything she was going to say planned out, all the lines, had been practicing all night in front of mirrors and her mates, and she just knew she was going to make you faint with how suave she was.
Only, the moment she was in the makeup chair and had you standing over her, everything went right out of her head. Complete emptiness in her brain, lost in the sauce staring up at you.
And who could blame her?! You were completely adorable. And beautiful. And hot. And unbelievably sexy. And every other adjective out there for how good looking you were.
Your brows were furrowed as you brought the brush across Zoey’s face, like you were a painter and she was your canvas, bringing different shades, different colors, onto her skin as you worked.
It was for the music video, one of the scenes in it had Zoey in full face paint, and of course you were the only one in the team she trusted to paint her.
Well, not true, she trusted everyone Bobby hired to do a good job, it’s just you were the only one she wanted doing her makeup.
After all, if she was going to be sitting here for twenty minutes while someone works on her face, she’d much rather spend that time staring at you as opposed to any of the other makeup artists on set.
Though it did make it hard for her to focus on anything but you. When you were this close, all Zoey could smell was you. Your scent, so rich and alluring, she wanted to bury her face into the crook of your neck and never leave.
“I know that look. What are you thinking about?” you asked as you switched to a new brush, drawing a new line across her forehead.
Zoey had to stop herself from going “I’m thinking about how pretty you are, and desperately want to kiss you,” and instead grappled the first coherent thought that managed to survive the brain wipe she got looking into your eyes. “Bees.”
You laughed, and it was an unfairly pretty sound that Zoey wanted a ten-hour loop of to listen to all day. “Bees?”
“Bees,” Zoey confirmed seriously. “And those anti animal product extremists.”
You laughed again, and Zoey felt like she won the lottery. “Okay, I’ll bite. What is it about them that has your attention?”
“It’s about how hilarious it is that they act like people are exploiting bees to get honey,” Zoey explained, tilting her head to the side for to continue your work, trying not to show how crazy your scent and attention were driving her. “Bees are the one thing you can’t exploit! They’re fucking unionized!”
“It is hard to exploit something that can just fly away if it doesn't vibe with you,” you agreed.
“Exactly! People try to argue that they won’t because beekeepers hold the queens hostage but—wrong! They’ve no problem abandoning their queen and making a new queen elsewhere if needed—” Zoey’s breath hitched as you leaned in closer to her, so close she could feel your warmth on her.
You either ignored, or did not notice, Zoey’s reaction. “I thought they needed a new queen already to swarm away.” You dipped your brush into more face paint, bringing it back to her skin, and Zoey was glad she now had a few layers to hide the creeping blush.
“N-nope,” she laughed, because that nervous giggle was the only way she was hanging onto her sanity when your brush began tracing along her ear. “They’re n-notorious for abandoning their hive if they deem their queen not good enough.”
This time, Zoey wasn’t able to keep from shivering, and it had you pulling away, eyebrows knit together in concern. “Are you okay?”
No. Not at all. But for reasons she couldn’t say out loud, not to you. “I’m fine, super fine, totally fine. Just—just a little ticklish.”
More than ticklish.
Her ears had always been a sensitive spot, something that Mira and Rumi loved to exploit with how often they’d nip and suck and blow against them. Mira teased her so many times about how they could get Zoey worked up almost immediately just by playing with her ears a little.
She felt needy almost immediately when you did, and the embarrassing part was that you were just putting face paint on her. You didn’t know how sensitive she was.
You watched her a moment longer before shaking your head, mouth twitching into a smile, “Well, I’ll try to be careful. Don’t want to have you squirming beneath me.”
Zoey couldn’t disagree more. She wanted so badly to be squirming under you. Just not because of a makeup brush—at least not if it’s being used on her face.
“Tell me more about the bees?”
Bees, what bees? What were—oh, right. Unionized bees.
Zoey cleared her throat and tried to hold still as you returned to painting over her ear. “Right, well…another complaint is how they don’t consent to us taking their honey, but t-that’s—”
“Bullshit?”
“Bullshit,” Zoey agreed with a slight squeak as your brush started along the underside of her jaw, where the skin was most tender, most sensitive. “It’s a fair trade as far as the bees a-are concerned. They overproduce, and because we give them s-shelter and protection, they let us take their honey.”
“Because if they weren’t cool with it, they’d just fly off,” You mused.
She couldn’t form words this time, didn’t trust the sounds she might make if she opened her mouth, and so all she offered was a simple nod. Your paintbrush was drawing dangerously close to her sensitive scent glands, and Zoey was white-knuckling the armrest of her chair to keep from moving.
Did you not see the mess you were making of Zoey? It was taking all her self control to be a good girl and stay seated. You were doing this on purpose—you had to be, you—
“Hey, uh…Zoey?”
Bobby’s voice cut through the air. You took a step back for him, wiping your hands clean with a towel at your counter.
“H-hey, Bobby,” Zoey greeted nervously. “Everything okay? We should be—uh, almost done here, I think?” she glanced towards you, and you nodded, confirming you just had a few finishing touches to make before applying the sealing spray and setting powder.
Her manager was shifting where he stood, looking incredibly uncomfortable and embarrassed as he fidgeted with something in his hand.
“That’s great to hear, really,” he said, though it sounded forced as he looked back to Zoey, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But, uh, actually, I’m here to give you this.”
She held out her hand on instinct, and then felt a sudden, violent, rush of heat burst across her face as he dropped a heavy-duty scent patch in her waiting palm.
Oh.
Oh no.
Oh no.
“I don’t really know what was going on, but…” Bobby could not meet her gaze, and Zoey couldn’t blame him as she became suddenly acutely aware of how heavy the air was.
She wanted to crawl under a rock and die. Seriously. What was she—a middle school pup going through puberty???
“Bobby, I am so, so sorry, I didn’t notice, I didn’t—”
This was mortifying. Absolutely, undeniably mortifying. And there were so many people around them, all of whom would have been able to smell—
He assured her it was okay, in that ever supportive Bobby way of his. But it did little to make Zoey feel better as, even after putting the patch on, she could still feel all eyes on her. These things happen, Bobby assured her before leaving to get everyone else back on track, don’t worry about it too much.
She couldn’t look at you, the shame burning too hot.
“I am so sorry,” Zoey said immediately when you approached her again with your face paint and brush.
Your eyes glanced towards the patch, and then offered her an uncertain smile, like you didn’t know how you were meant to respond, what the right thing to say was. “It’s, um, it’s okay, really.”
By your tone, Zoey had the feeling that it really wasn’t.
Oh no, oh fuck, she must have made you feel so, so uncomfortable, practically suffocating you in alpha pheromones. Were you going to think she was just another horny knothead after this? She swears that she’s not!
.
.
.
“Oh God, I can’t believe that happened."
Rather than comforting the maknae, both Rumi and Zoey were laughing at her expense.
“Don’t be mean!” Zoey complained, throwing a pillow at them. “I’ve never felt more humiliated in my life! It was so bad I completely forgot to give her my gift when she was done!”
Rather than hand it to you, Zoey had all but fled once you were done, needing to get away before she made another faux pas.
Rumi caught the pillow easily and placed it on her side of the dressing room couch before leaning forward to cup Zoey’s face in her hand, “It’s okay, Zoey. Accidents happen,” she offered before giving Zoey a light kiss.
She leaned into the kiss, but pulled back after a few moments to let out a long, miserable sigh. “What if they hate me now? What if they don't feel comfortable being around me anymore?”
The very idea that you wouldn’t feel comfortable being near Zoey anymore was heartbreaking. Even outside of a romantic setting, Zoey loved spending time with you, she didn’t want to lose you.
Mira settled in behind Mira, hand on her shoulder giving her a comforting squeeze. “They wont hate you,” she assured, nuzzling into Zoey’s other shoulder. “They know you wouldn’t have done that on purpose.”
“I—but what if—”
“No buts,” Rumi placed her finger on Zoey’s lips, silencing her. “But, if it makes you feel better, I can ask them over dinner.”
You had agreed to go to dinner with Rumi tonight, and while it wasn’t officially a date, despite how much Rumi wanted to imagine that it was, it was still a dinner alone with you. She was planning to give you her gift and confession during it.
Third times the charm, after all, so she felt reasonably confident that this would be the one.
Zoey let out another whine while Mira pulled her onto her lap, arms wrapped around her in a protective, comforting position. “Could you give them my gift, too? I feel terrible that I didn’t get to give them it earlier.”
With a soft smile, Rumi nodded. “Of course. I’d have brought it even if you didn’t ask,” she said.
Crawling across the couch to close that small gap of distance Mira had created, Rumi gave Zoey another kiss. “Now you stop feeling so sorry for yourself, or Mira’s going to have to do something about it.”
“Or continue to, because I’ve a few ideas on how to make you feel better,” Mira let out a soft laugh, letting out a soft puff of air brush against Zoey’s ear, making the younger girl shiver.
“You two are mean,” she pouted, but making no attempt to push either away.
“Only because we love you,” Rumi pulled away with a laugh and climbed off the couch, “I’ve got to get ready for dinner. You two have fun while I’m gone.”
Mira waved her off, “You know we will,” she smirked. “Have a good date, we’re counting on you.”
.
.
.
It was not, in fact, a good date.
…Okay that was a slight exaggeration.
Dinner itself had been wonderful; Rumi had a phenomenal time with you. She had taken you to your favorite barbeque place, and despite the earlier mishap with Zoey, you two had gotten along just as great as ever.
Much like Rumi had said it would be; you were more concerned over if Zoey was okay than offended by what had happened. Something of which Zoey had been elated to hear when that tidbit had been passed on.
At one point, you had gotten sauce smeared across your cheek, and Rumi had reached across the table to wipe it off with her thumb. She had intentionally held your gaze as she’d brought it to her lips.
After dinner, Rumi had walked you back home. Not just walked; she’d given you her own jacket to wear, citing that it was a chilly night and she’d hate for you to catch anything because of the cold.
The way you had looked in her jacket, burying your face in the collar in what she hoped was to hide a blush—it should have been illegal to look so cute.
At your door, Rumi had given you the two remaining gifts. A box of your favorite treats from Zoey that she’d brought back after her last trip to the States, and a plush blanket that Rumi had gotten with the help of her mentor.
You had taken both with grace and gratitude, and Rumi had been so happy, so excited, hoping that maybe this would be it, that this is when you’d catch on.
Sure, the treats couldn’t really carry their scent, but the blanket? Rumi had been meticulous in making sure it smelled like her pack so that you couldn’t misunderstand.
But you had only smiled, tucking both under your arm, and thanking her for the gift and leaving it at that. No response to the scent, nothing about obvious courting aspect of the gift. Nothing.
“They still took is as a ‘friendly’ gesture?” Mira spluttered when Rumi retold the events of the date. “Are you sure the blanket was scented? Did our scents wear off on it?”
Rumi shook her head, “No, the pheromones were still strong on the blanket,” she said.
A burning blush creeping up, Rumi looked away from the other two, “I even tried to… that one thing those annoying alpha podcasts always talk about, blanketing my scent over them—” she cut herself off, waving her hands in the air in a half-panic. “Not in like, not in the confining way, at least I tried not to. But to—I thought that if I pumped out enough pheromones, then they'd notice.”
“Did they?” Zoey asked, leaning forward from where she sat.
The answer was a frustrated huff. “Didn’t even blink their eyes at it!” Rumi complained, dragging her hand down her face in defeat, her voice going quiet a moment later. “…are we doing something wrong?”
The air between them became tense, uncomfortable.
None of them had ever tried doing this before; courting an omega. None of them had been interested in an omega before. Their only experiences were trying to court each other, and that had taken barely any effort at all.
This was new territory.
Despite all their best attempts, nothing was working, nothing was getting through to you.
They thought they’d been doing all the right steps, but did they miss one somewhere along the way? Were they going about this wrong? Doing this wrong?
None of them had an answer.
That uncertainty was the worst part. Not knowing if this was a quiet, polite rejection of its own, or if their courting attempts were truly that laughably bad.
It was a question that kept them up that night.
.
.
.
Several days passed, they toned down their attempts, still trying to figure out what it was they were doing wrong, figure out how they can make you see they were interested in you.
Bobby had scheduled them back-to-back variety show appearances, the games were a helpful distraction, but it was still difficult when the girls had to visit you between each break to touch up their makeup and help with their hair before going back on stage.
It’s towards the end of the week, when the girls are in their main studio in the tower drafting a new song that they get a message from you in the group chat, asking if they were free for you to stop by for a quick moment.
Not that you even needed to ask, they’d always have time for you, you could come visit them at three in the morning and they’d welcome you with open arms. But still, you ask, and still they say yes.
You arrived twenty minutes later, the elevator chiming as you stepped off, giving a light knock to the recording room’s door before entering.
“Hey, everyone,” you greeted with a nervous smile as you tightly gripped the basket you were carrying with you.
The air clinging to you smelled off. Mira could see the edge of a scent patch on your wrist, hidden beneath your sleeve, obscuring your usual scent with something more chemically muted. With how nervous you looked, she imagined that without the scent you would have filled the small room with the smell of your anxiety.
“Hey!” Zoey greeted in return, having to grip her seat tightly to keep from flinging herself at you in a hug. They’d agreed to pull back on their affections until they’d figured out what they’d been doing wrong, but it was killing her to have to do so.
“Come, grab a seat,” Rumi insisted, getting out of her own beanbag seat so you could take it. “What brings you over?”
“I’m fine, I can stand,” you said quickly, shifting awkwardly on your feet, looking like you wanted to turn and run more than anything.
And wasn’t that a stab in the heart for all three of them. Why would you want to run from them—had they done something to make you feel afraid to be near them like this?
You swallowed audibly, tightening your grip on the basket even more as you glanced at each of them, and then quickly looked away. “Actually, the reason came here was b-because, um…”
Stumbling over your words, you settled on just holding out the basket, offering a quiet ‘take it’.
Mira was the one closest to you, and so she was the one to grab the basket. “Um, thank you?” she said uncertainly as she backed away.
She cast a look to Rumi and Zoey for a moment, unsure of what she was to do, before looking back to the basket and opening the top off it, not sure what to expect from—
Oh.
“Did you make these?” Mira’s voice felt soft, a tremble in it. She could feel Rumi and Zoey moving from their spots to hover behind her, peering into the basket with her.
You still weren’t looking at them, gaze cast to the floor as you gave a timid nod. “It took a few attempts, but, uh, sorry if it’s not…you know…good.”
Not good? How ridiculous could you be!
Zoey immediately reached in, snatching one of the cookies practically moaning into the bite she took. A muffled “Delicious” between her bites as she inhaled it.
From Mira’s other side, Rumi reached in to pull out one of the bungeoppangs in the basket. It smelled just as delicious as the cookie.
The food was good—always good, the three loved food, and having you bake them treats already made their day. But you hadn’t just brought baked goods.
Tucked to the other side of the basket were three handkerchiefs. Pink, purple, blue. Handstitched embroidery with their names on them and cute designs. Both adorable, but also something that would have taken time to make.
They had your scent on them.
Rumi wasn’t sure how to describe it other than sloppy. Not in a bad way, but—as if you didn’t know how to spread you scent, and so, while the fabric smelled of you, it came across as more disorderly. She was still going to treasure hers immensely, nothing was going to stop her, that was now her favorite handkerchief.
Mira’s your scent soaked into one corner, but was barely there for the rest of the handkerchief. On Zoey’s it was there in sporadic spots, like random droplets of water. Meanwhile Rumi’s might as well have been dunked entirely in it for how overwhelming it was.
Handkerchief in hand, Rumi held it close, staring up at you with wide eyes as warmth spread across her chest. “Are these—” she started, choking on her words. “Are these courting gifts?” She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she had to know.
Your face darkened from your neck to your ears as you gripped and tugged at your sleeve, shrinking in on yourself.
“Yes.”
The confession had been so quiet, they could have missed it if the room had not been silent.
Snapping your head up, you held your hands up as if to defend yourself. “I mean—I’m sorry if I’m crossing boundaries, and I get it, you three are already together, you probably don’t even want an omega in the mix. But, I—I wanted to at least try. If you don’t like this, that’s fine, we can just be friends, I don’t want to force you into anything—”
You were talking so quickly, taking small steps back, away from them, with each word as you tried to downplay what you’d done.
Courting gifts. You were trying to court them.
It was such a ridiculous situation.
Zoey was the one to crack first, doubling over in laughter as the realization sank in. Once she started laughing, it was hard for Mira and Rumi not to join in. This was just so…so…hilarious.
But maybe not to you, because it took no time at all for your expression to fill with hurt, clearly taking their laughter as a kind of rejection.
“Right, I… I’ll just be on my way then—”
“Wait!” Mira’s hand shot out, grabbing you by the arm before you could turn around. “Sorry, we’re not laughing at you, it’s just,” she was still breathless, still fighting the urge to laugh even as her eyes began to burn with tears.
“We’ve been trying for months to court you,” Rumi finished for her. “Every attempt just—you brush it off as nothing. Then suddenly you’re giving us courting gifts. It’s funny.”
Your blush burned hotter at her confession. “You—what do you mean you’ve been trying to court me for months?” you spluttered, your voice rising in pitch.
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Zoey was already proudly wrapping her new handkerchief around her neck so she could show it off to the world. “We’ve been giving you courting gifts, trying to take you out on dates and invite you to join ours.”
“No you haven’t?” It was a weak defense.
“Yes we have, we haven’t been subtle about it,” Mira shot back, letting go of your arm, “I’m surprise you didn’t realize. I thought, at the very least, with Zoey’s pheromone accident last week you’d have caught on. Everyone else in that building certainly knew after that.”
Zoey ducked away, glaring at Mira, “I thought we agreed not to talk about that anymore.”
“I agreed to nothing.” Mira shot back.
“I can’t smell pheromones.”
All three went quiet at your quiet admittance, staring at you in surprise as you, once again, avoided their gazes. Had they heard you right? You couldn’t—
“That explains so much,” Rumi whispered as that missing piece finally fell into place.
You looked up at her shyly as Rumi brought a hand to her face, rethinking all their attempts these last few months to win you over, and your response to all of them.
Of course you weren’t going to be able to tell a regular gift apart from a courting gift. Of course you wouldn’t have reacted to Zoey’s incident, or Rumi’s attempt to puff up her own pheromones last week. It explained the handkerchiefs and why the scenting was so off.
Mira blinked tilting her head at you. “So all this time you haven’t reacted to our attempts because you couldn’t smell us?” she asked, earning a shy nod from you. “That’s…actually so relieving to hear.”
“Relieving?” you repeated.
“Relieving,” Zoey agreed, “We were so worried we were doing something wrong, or that maybe you just weren’t interested in us. Knowing that wasn’t the case is a relief.” A glint of mischief flashed in her eye as she took a step forward, “After all, you clearly like us back, since you’re trying to give us courting gifts, right? Riiiight?”
You stammered a weak excuse back, mouth twisting into a nervous, but not unwelcoming, grin as Zoey got even closer.
Soon she was a hairbreadth away from you, noses practically touching. “There’s this one thing I’ve been dying to get to do,” Zoey whispered, eye flickering down to your mouth with obvious intent. “Can I?”
“I—” you started and swallowed. “I wouldn’t be against it.”
That was all Zoey needed.
One arm snaked around your waist, the other cradling your cheek. She stared at you for one long moment, a last chance for you to back away, before she crashed her mouth against yours in a hard kiss. The kind of kiss that carried the growing desperation she’s felt for you these last few months.
You moaned into the kiss, grabbing her by her shirt to—whether to anchor yourself or to keep her from going away was anyone’s guess.
The moment Zoey pulled away, she was a giggling mess. “Oh, that was way better than how I’d fantasized,” she breathed, leaning in to kiss you again. She didn’t want to stop kissing you. Not now. Not ever.
But Mira reached out and nudged her away, earning a whine from the maknae, “Come on, let the rest of us have a turn, she chided, before turning to look at you. “She’s not the only one whose wanted this.”
Then she was kissing you, too. Hers wasn’t as hard of a kiss as Zoey’s. Firm, but controlled, each movement precise, like she already knew all the ways to make you melt against her.
Rumi was after her, far more shy, far more timid. Her kiss gentle, like she was afraid you might break under her touch, the leash she held herself on clear in the way that she kissed you.
At some point, you ended up on the couch, sandwiched between all three of them, kissing mixed in with cuddling, a tangle of limbs as they wrapped around one another with no intention of letting go.
It may not have been a simple courting stage, but they were all here and together and happy. That was all that mattered.