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Early mornings must be a punishment for some crime Zoey committed in a past life.
Is it a little dramatic? Maybe. Is it warranted? Definitely.
The professor drones on and on about polymorphism and something else, topics that would have been interesting if she wasn’t already well-versed in the subject and its applications.
Zoey bounces her leg. The chair shakes to her body’s rhythm, fingers drumming against the table to an unheard melody.
She really wants to get out of here.
Someone scoffs to her left. Quiet enough for no one else to hear, loud enough to catch her attention. It’s the kind of sound someone makes under their breath that tries to be discreet but clearly wants to be heard.
Without even having to look, Zoey feels the side-eye he throws her way as his scent fouls in annoyance.
Zoey clamps a hand on her knee to still herself and shoots the guy an apologetic smile. She mouths a silent sorry, to which he rolls his eyes and looks away.
Her brow furrows.
Alphas.
Rude.
Zoey's smile drops at the reaction, scoffing in turn and mockingly rolling her eyes right back at him even if he doesn’t see it. It’s the principle of the matter! She’s getting right back at him even if he doesn’t know it—so take that, asshole!
She grins to herself, quietly preening in victory at winning that interaction in her mind.
Settling back down into her seat, Zoey checks her phone. The brightness nearly blinds her as the time flashes across the screen.
8:16 AM
The sight of it makes her groan. Another 14 grueling minutes trapped in this way too cold lecture hall, and then she’ll be free for the next 2 hours.
Yes, the gap in her schedule is stupid, no she can’t do anything about it, all the other slots were already filled when she was picking her classes leaving her with this. It wasn’t her fault that the internet decided to cut out the exact second the student portal opened. To make matters worse, there’s a 3 hour gap after her next class.
God, she really hates Mondays.
Zoey groans in displeasure, head dropping to rest on crossed arms as the sound of her professor’s voice turns to white noise. There’s really no new topic to learn until at least the second semester when they switch languages.
The silver lining, at least, is that she lives on campus and can easily run back to her dorm. In a perfect world she sleeps the rest of the day. But Monday’s have it out for her with this stupid schedule.
Her phone buzzes twice on the desk. Zoey peers up from behind her arms, head tilted to the side as she checks her notifications, lecture be damned.
There isn’t a lot. A couple notifications from twitter, a fic she’s subscribed to updating (which she’s definitely gonna read later instead of studying), some reminders from her to-do list, and at the very top being a recent text.
Zoey unlocks her phone and taps on the familiar icon, messaging app popping into full view of the screen.
[Jinu 8:23 AM]
cafe????? yes????
strawberry creme frappucino 🤤
[Zoey 8:24 AM]
my brother in christ it is 8 30 in the morning
[Jinu 8:24 AM]
ill pay for u
[Zoey 8:24 AM]
say less
ill meet u outside the building
Shutting off her long neglected laptop—the empty IDE stares back at her, because fuck taking notes and following along to this lecture—Zoey starts tucking her belongings back into her bag as subtly as possible.
She glances up every now and then to make sure the professor isn't looking. This particular one has a thing against students packing up early, something about respect or whatever. Zoey personally thinks it’s stupid. And god forbid she wants to be out that door as soon as possible.
With all her stuff fixed and ready to go, Zoey sits there twiddling her thumbs as she waits for dismissal. Aaany second now.
The professor's phone chimes, 8:30 on the dot. She guesses there’s some benefits to having a stuck up by the books teacher. Sometimes. She still remembers getting a locked door to the face for coming in a minute late.
Yeah, that wasn't fun.
Zoey’s up and slinging her backpack over her shoulder before his ending spiel is over. Being the first out the door as soon as he gets the last words out.
It’s a quick speedwalk to make it out of the building, the early morning heat and sun makes her squint and grimace in contrast to the cool, air-conditioned indoors.
She seriously debates going back inside before a heavy hand smacks her upside the head, making her let out an indignant squeak.
The scent carries over long before she sees him, typical sandalwood mixed with a fizzy kind of vanilla and carbonated sweetness that Zoey’s joked about making him smell like coke more than once.
Zoey whips around with a glare ready to go, a quiet warning growl slipping past lips and bared teeth.
Jinu stands there, unfazed at the display, with the same stupid grin on his face as per usual.
“Quit your squawking, let’s go.”
Zoey smooths her hair back down, huffing at him. “You’re lucky you’re paying for me.”
“Yes, yes.” Jinu waves her off and starts walking. Zoey falls into step next to him. “What an honor and privilege it is to pay for your drink that tastes like grass and milk.”
Zoey scoffs, elbowing his side at the remark. “Better than your pink strawberry concoction that’s way too sweet for eight in the morning.”
“It still has coffee in it!” he argues.
“Dude, barely! That’s basically, like, a milkshake at this point.”
“You did not just call my frappe a milkshake.” Jinu gapes at her, hand over his chest and dramatic as ever. “Not when your drink tastes like grass.”
Zoey snorts, rolling her eyes. “Funny coming from the guy who looks like one of those performative alphas who dress up and pretend to read omeganist literature while sipping on a matcha latte.”
Jinu blinks at her.
Once.
Twice.
Completely stunlocked.
“What the fuck are you saying to me right now?” He looks at her like she just sprouted a second head.
“You don’t know that?” Zoey asks in her own disbelief. Leave it to Jinu to not get the reference.
“No?” Jinu asks, confused. “Should I?”
Zoey levels him with a disappointed sigh, shaking her head in utter disappointment. “Oh my god, you’re so old.”
“I’m only two years older than you?”
“Old!” Zoey retorts, throwing her hands up in the air. She walks ahead, leaving Jinu and the conversation behind like she’s already won that exchange and didn’t feel the need to continue it further.
Jinu is wrong, and he’s old—things that are very real and true.
At least being old means he’s in the classes a year ahead of her. Meaning she can just take his work from the year before and reuse it when she’s feeling too lazy. It’s not her fault the professors give out the exact same lectures and assignments. Honestly, shortsightedness on their part.
So being old has some benefits.
Unfortunately, she did decide to take a minor in marine biology, which Jinu’s old-ness provides no benefit at all. On her own she is for that one, but c’est la beef. She enjoys the contrast between it and her major. No, there isn’t exactly any correlation between the two and she may be making things harder for herself by taking all those extra subjects and coursework, but she enjoys it and really that’s all that matters in life.
A bell chimes as they walk into the cafe. The smell of coffee and pastries flood greets them at the door, the atmosphere serene enough to elicit a sense of relief as the door shuts behind them.
Zoey loves cafes. Maybe it’s all the coffee shop AUs, but there’s just an air about them that’s easy to romanticize.
Who knows, maybe she’ll have the meet cute of her dreams here where a pretty barista finds her intriguing and gives her a drink on the house with their number written on the cup—
Jinu elbows her in the side hard enough that Zoey sputters out of her daydreaming with a quiet oof.
Blinking out of her fantasy, she finds that they’re already at the front of the line.
Jinu’s already placed his order and has been looking at her with a raised brow. Zoey kicks him in the shin in retaliation for his act of physical violence and he stumbles back a step as she dictates her order to the barista.
One matcha latte with sea salt foam and with a generous pump of condensed milk, sweet enough to nearly drown out the taste of the matcha itself. Just as she likes it! She’ll never understand why Jinu says matcha tastes like grass.
Zoey steps back once she’s done, looking at Jinu expectantly as if to say well, go on while he reaches for his wallet. He rolls his eyes. Zoey smiles triumphantly. Ah, the joys of having an older brother.
They find a vacant table to sit at as they wait for their drinks, near the window where Jinu likes to people watch—weirdo.
She feels like a creep staring at strangers, and it’s probably uncomfortable for said strangers to be stared at. Especially by some random alpha.
“It’s not weird, everyone does it,” he defends.
“I don’t, that’s just you.” Zoey points an accusatory finger at him. “You’re one of those weird alphas that think staring somebody down to get their attention is considered flirting.”
Jinu is immediately on the defensive. Zoey’s got him right where she wants him.
They argue back and forth. Well, Jinu argues while Zoey provokes him.
When that topic inevitably dies she moves on to another thing to piss him off about, like his chain necklace that makes him look like a fuckboy. And then another. And another. Literally anything Zoey can think of to make jabs at him about.
It doesn't take much effort before he's near red with frustration, scent stinging her nose like shaken soda.
Even the greatest artists run out of material as eventually, she does run out of things to point out regarding his fashion choices and general disposition.
In lieu of anything else their talk circles back to classes—or rather, complaining about classes.
“Mine are easyyy—as long as you ignore how shit my schedule is—I’m already ahead on the topics. I’m really just doing the assigned work, and coding is pretty fun,” Zoey happily explains.
Jinu stares at her like she’s insane for speaking those words in that order. “You are the only person who has ever said that ever.”
Zoey kicks his shin under the table hard enough that he flinches back and pulls away.
By the time their drinks are called she’s done enough psychological (and physical) damage to Jinu to keep his ego in check for the foreseeable next few weeks.
A painstakingly tiring job, truly, but someone has to do it or else the rest of the world would have to deal with him at full power. And that simply isn’t something Zoey is willing to have on her conscience.
The little bell above the door chimes once more as they leave.
The air outside is warmer, the heavy aroma of coffee and sweets a faint memory as they depart from the cafe.
“Alright, we’ve still got an hour to kill before our next classes. Where do you wanna chill?” Jinu asks, eyes trained on his watch.
Zoey’s pretty sure it’s just for decoration and he can’t actually read analog clocks, instead having memorized the hands' positions instead.
She snorts to herself at the thought, then covers it up with a cough as Jinu raises a brow at her in question.
“Library! Ahem—let’s head to the library.”
The answer only makes Jinu question her more.
“Woah, nerd alert! Since when do you read?”
Zoey elbows him hard enough for the nth time to make him nearly double over and clutch at his side with a wince.
She’d argue fanfiction counts as reading, but he doesn’t need to hear about what she enjoys in her spare time.
“Haha, screw you.” Zoey’s lip curls up in an unamused grin, fangs slightly bared. “And I need a textbook for my marine bio classes, so I’m gonna go borrow one.”
“Why not just buy your own?”
Silence passes.
Zoey gives him a look asking does it look like we can afford that?
“Okay, yeah no, you’re right. Library it is then.”
The campus library isn't too far from the cafe. A decent distance to walk and talk as they go, finishing their drinks all the while. By the time they reach the front doors their cups are already in the trash. Good timing really, they wouldn’t have been able to bring those inside anyway.
It’s not crowded, only the stray student here and there milling about. Even fewer actually working, the rest either asleep or clearly just killing time.
Jinu allows himself to be dragged along between rows and rows of shelves as Zoey zips around looking for her much needed textbook.
Truth be told, he really didn’t need to be here, but he’s not going to admit to actually enjoying spending time with his little sister. No, she’d get too smug about that. Instead, he opts to simply follow behind and snicker as he watches her attempt to reach the higher shelves. One of them clearly stole all the height in the family and it wasn’t Zoey.
The frustration rolls off the younger alpha in waves, a slight burn to the simmering caramel warmth of her scent. Truly, there is no greater joy in the world than watching his sister struggle.
Zoey leads them to another aisle that she swears this time for real has the book she needs. Jinu doesn’t voice his very obvious doubts.
He stays at the end of the aisle, watching Zoey crouch to the floor and muttering to herself as she skims through the spines for the one book she so desperately needs.
So focused on what’s in front of her, Zoey is completely unaware of the stranger approaching from the other end of the aisle.
Jinu lifts his gaze to the scent of jasmine and what he catches as an aquatic sort of freshness. His eyes follow the woman’s hands as they carefully reach for the shelf above his sister without disturbing her.
He catches a glimpse of the title.
Genetics and Molecular Biology, Second Edition.
And—oh hey, that’s the book Zoey’s looking for. Neat.
Unhelpfully, he makes absolutely no move to do or say anything as he watches it get tucked between careful hands and carried away.
Zoey remains unaware on the floor, annoyance creeping into her scent as she huffs in frustration.
Getting a proper look now, Jinu finds a long purple braid trailing behind the stranger as she rounds the corner and—wait a second.
He knows that stranger.
Before Jinu is even able to attempt a follow-up on that realization, Zoey stands and throws her hands up in exaggerated surrender.
“That’s it! I give up!” she whisper-shouts. Still mindful of the fact they’re in a public library despite her frustration. “Maybe—maybe this book just doesn’t exist, actually! Maybe it’s all made up! Maybe—”
Zoey’s ranting turns into white noise. Jinu stares at her in silence, gears coming to life and turning in his head. Pieces fall into place. A plan forms. The lightbulb goes off.
“Oh, actually, I just saw someone take it.”
Zoey halts mid spiel.
Jinu points towards the shelf above her head. Zoey's eyes follow. It’s almost comical, the way her head slowly turns and her eyes widen.
“What?!” Zoey starts gesturing wildly towards the shelf, and the gap where a book used to be. “How did I not see that?! How did I not notice someone taking it?!”
Jinu shrugs nonchalantly. It makes Zoey’s scent spike further. Burnt sugar and spoiled vanilla thickens in the air, charred and bitter in an overwhelming mixture that speaks of her frustration and disbelief.
His nose wrinkles but there’s a grin on his face.
“You,” Zoey points an accusing finger at him, “are useless.”
“Thank you.”
He’s all too pleased with himself.
Zoey groans in defeat. Left with no other option, she huffs before stomping off towards the direction of the information desk they passed on the way in.
Jinu follows behind her once more, just as intended.
Scanning their surroundings as they walk—there—Jinu spots her—them! Even better!
A devious, scheming grin finds its way onto his face as he grabs Zoey by the shoulder, halting her mid stomp. There’s a retort already on the tip of her tongue before Jinu silences her with a raised finger. Said finger then promptly points somewhere to the left. Zoey’s gaze follows it towards the reading area.
If this works he’s just gotten himself some free entertainment.
Zoey tilts her head in question. “What am I looking at?”
“Over there, with the purple braid and pink hair.”
Zoey squints, and Jinu is able to see the exact moment that her eyes find exactly what she’s looking for.
“God damn it—that’s my book!” She huffs dejectedly. Feeling personally betrayed by the inanimate object like it had chosen to get up and run off with some stranger, Zoey crosses her arms and pouts. “Well fuck me I guess.”
Time to set the bait and put his wonderful little plan into action.
“Go ask them.” Jinu nods towards the table. Both their gazes briefly flick towards its direction. The book lays open between the two, already being shared.
Zoey pauses for a second like a record scratch just went off in her brain. “What?”
Slower this time, Jinu repeats himself as if doing so makes more sense than the first. “Go ask if you can borrow it.”
“Dude, they just got it, they’re not just gonna let me have it.” Zoey rolls her eyes like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
She makes a fair point. But he isn’t about to drop this so easily, or admit that she’s right.
Life is far too boring without some drama, and life has provided him with a victim and some very well placed means.
“Then ask if you can take some pictures or scans and just borrow it next time,” Jinu suggests helpfully.
Zoey opens her mouth to respond before promptly shutting it as she mulls over Jinu’s words.
Hook.
“Come on, just ask themmmm, they won't bite your face off,” he smiles. Innocently, like he isn’t planning anything at all. Because he isn’t. Not to Zoey’s knowledge at least.
“Hmm…” Zoey hums in consideration, clearly thinking it over. Her brows furrow in deep thought as she weighs her options.
Line.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” He asks, like he doesn’t know exactly what. Like he isn’t setting her up to get her face bitten off.
Zoey closes her eyes, stroking her chin like some imaginary beard was helping her think.
Then, she nods. “Okay!” Preening to herself, she faces Jinu with a renewed gleam and a goal in mind. “Not a bad idea! You're right, the worst they can do is say no and then I can just get it another time.”
And sinker.
The words are more for herself than it is for Jinu. Like she’s come to the conclusion all on her own instead of being egged on by her delightful older brother who only ever has her best interest at heart.
Zoey is completely clueless as she turns and makes her way towards the table.
Jinu grins like a bastard.
It isn’t difficult to find at all. Mira was just being dramatic—and likely still doesn’t understand how the books were organized and classified, Rumi thinks as she plucks the textbook off one of the higher shelves.
She’s careful not to disturb the other two people occupying the aisle, especially the alpha crouching right below her. No need to ask her to move out of the way when Rumi can just reach above her.
Vanilla and something deeper, more intoxicating, briefly fills her senses. Only briefly. There’s no time to linger on the thought as she turns to leave. The scent remains behind her. It clings for a moment, then it disappears as she rounds the corner.
Rumi counts her steps back to Mira. It’s not direction that guides her really, but rather connection. Robbed of all her senses, she’s certain she’d be able to find her way back to her mate over and over again.
Mira doesn’t look up from her laptop as she pulls out Rumi’s chair.
It’s nearly choreographed the way they dance around each other, the subtle ways they adjust to the other’s presence. How space conforms itself to a shape that exists only between the two of them.
All to say that Mira pushes in her chair just exactly so as Rumi takes her seat.
It feels scripted. Mira carefully moves her laptop out of the way just as Rumi places the book towards her. Rumi tilts her head up in the exact same breath as Mira leans in to affectionately nestle against the crook of her neck.
All at once it feels like the earth has swallowed her whole, life surrounding her on all fronts. Liquid fire burns its way down Rumi’s throat in the form of the other omega’s scent. Waking up to the morning after a storm.
The trill Mira lets out is nearly inaudible if not for Rumi having memorized its exact cadence and notes. An upward tick and a soft rumble before it settles into a quiet hum. The sound of it reverberates through Rumi’s entire body as her mate noses her way under Rumi’s jaw where her scent sits the strongest.
Rumi returns the gesture in kind, nudging the top of Mira’s head with her cheek as she lets out a quiet purr in response.
They separate just as smoothly as they had come together. A quick thanks and an exchange of scents. It’s practical. It’s love all the same. Actions so practiced they became second nature. Instinct.
Soon they fall into a silent rhythm, working separately yet simultaneously to the same song. Mira flips open the textbook. Rumi carries the laptop over to her side of the desk. Mira uncaps a pen. Rumi hands her a notebook.
Words remain unspoken. Everything is said anyway.
The silence breaks.
A discordant note plays outside of their harmony.
Rumi feels it along Mira first. The sound is heard long before the presence joins them. It’s unknown, but familiar.
An alpha.
Both of them tense.
Unfortunately not the first, and certainly not the last. Now this—this was a song and dance they both quite hated.
Despite being known for barking off any alpha that gets too close for comfort, there sure always is one with far too much audacity and very little bite to actually follow up on it.
There’s a tap on Mira’s shoulder—Rumi twitches at the feeling as if it were against her own skin. The huff of breath Mira lets out edges on a growl.
Rumi sighs, already preparing herself for what follows. So far the leading opener continues to be what’s a gorgeous pair of omegas like yourselves doing all alone here? But looks like this omega sandwich is missing an alpha is coming in a close second.
Both are equally horrible but whatever it is, she’s ready.
Unfortunately, neither her nor Mira are prepared for the soft and quiet question of: "Excuse me? Do you think I can take a look at that textbook real quick?”
The couple turn to face the owner of the voice and the sight makes them freeze.
Whatever retort they have dies on their lips as what can only be described as a piece of the sun that had broken off, fell to Earth, and came alive, stands before them.
She’s the sun personified.
A sweet smile topped with endearing little fangs poke out of the corners of her lips. The cutest freckled face they've ever seen, like stars themselves had chosen to dance across her cheeks, meets their gaze.
Raven dark hair falls around her face. The strands frame her like the most perfect picture. And god—what a picture she is.
Mira’s breath hitches. It catches in her throat and for the first time she stutters, completely at a loss for words.
Rumi finds herself no better than her mate, blinking owlishly and staring like a fool like she can’t believe someone so radiant could exist.
Heat courses through their veins, a match into gasoline igniting across their bond and simmering low under their skin like an itch you can’t quite scratch. Warmth makes its home inside their chests.
Their joint silence makes the alpha waver. Her smile turns crooked at the corners. Her already big brown eyes widen further as she scrambles to explain herself like what she just asked of them might have been offensive. “It’ll only be a second!”
Her voice pitches high, almost a squeak and—
She’s kind of cute.
To the side, Rumi hears Mira snicker at the thought. The corner of her lip twitching up in amusement as their eyes meet. Rumi huffs indignantly in response, the words what? You were thinking it too! resting at the forefront of her mind.
It’s not often that they find themselves so… intrigued. Especially not so quickly. But this—whoever this alpha is—had caught their eye almost immediately.
Some long buried instinct inside them starts to pull insistently towards her. Their joint interest is palpable, their scents unable to hide the clear interest rolling off of them in waves.
Mira’s scent turns bright, the first drops of rain meeting upturned earth hinting towards a storm. From the way her mate’s chest rises Rumi is sure that her own sweetens in response.
Their silent exchange seems to put the intruding alpha on edge, now shifting from foot to foot and wringing her hands in front of her.
How cute, she’s nervous.
Blue nail polish chips at the edges of her nails. It’s both a stark contrast and an odd complement to the bright yellow of the sweater she’s wearing.
The alpha’s scent spikes in panic and Rumi wonders how she didn’t notice it before. Muted, but not dull. Something purposefully muffled instead of being nothing at all. Vanilla mixed with a narcotic blend fills her senses. The rising anxiety tinges its sweetness with a burnt edge and—oh. That’s familiar.
Mira turns to her in question. A subtle tilt of the head, silently asking what is?
Rumi doesn’t respond, instead, greedily taking in another lungful. Sweetness dances on the tip of her tongue honing a sharper edge bordering on intoxicating. It’s quiet. Still, it resonates loudly.
“Or—uhm… I can—I mean can I borrow that when you're done?" The alpha’s voice grows quieter towards the end of her sentence. Like somewhere in the middle she realizes she should have stopped talking.
Only then do the couple realize neither of them have said a single word out loud in response to the poor girl's questions.
Rumi’s eyes briefly widen before schooling her features into that of nonchalance. She coughs into her fist, clearing her throat, answering finally with a very put together, “Yes! I mean—yes, of course.”
Nailed it.
She doesn’t need to look to know that Mira is rolling her eyes at her. Amusement blatantly obvious in the other omega’s scent that laughs like rain kissing her skin.
Much more gracefully than her mate did, Mira gestures smoothly to the vacant seat across the desk and asks, “Would you like to sit with us? I don’t mind sharing.”
A subtle purr floats at the end of her words, intent wrapped carefully around innocent phrases.
Her cheek rests softly against her fist as she regards the sweet alpha with what Rumi can only assume to be one of her signature Looks™.
Unfortunately, both the omega’s words and gestures either go completely ignored, or fly right above the alpha’s head as the sweet thing only brightens further—innocently, might Rumi add.
There’s no hidden intent to it. None of the usual heavy undertones that comes with an alpha’s blatant interest in spotting a pair of omegas with no contender in sight. Just—bright.
The char to the alpha’s scent fades. Shifting instead to a smooth, rich sweetness that sticks to the back of their throats in a way that neither finds unpleasant. Quite the opposite, really.
The alpha lights up as she practically jumps to the offered seat. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She keeps her voice to a whisper, but no less enthusiastic as she haphazardly drops her bag and sits down. “Dude, you would not believe how long I was looking for that. And like—apparently it was right above my head and I didn’t even notice!”
Mira finds herself staring at the alpha’s hands while she speaks. They were expressive, gesturing animatedly while telling her story. She tries not to find it so charming.
She fails miserably.
Rumi is no better, eyes seeming to glow as she watches intently. Taking in every little expression and quirk of her brow like it was something worth memorizing.
The alpha must feel their twin stares from the way she begins to trail off, realizing just how much she’s been speaking. “—and, uh… I’m—oh jeez—I’m so sorry. I forgot to uhm… I just sat down and—” Whatever she tries to say gets stuck in her throat. Her hands gesture outwardly like she’s encouraging the words to come out.
Mira huffs a sound of amusement.
Rumi bites her tongue to stop herself from grinning.
Eventually, the alpha gives up.
Sighing heavily, she drops her head low in defeat. Taking a moment to compose herself, she takes a deep breath before ever so slightly tilting her head back up to meet their eyes.
“Hi… I’m Zoey,” she finally gets out.
Her name sings through their bond.
Rumi feels the way Mira settles in tune with her own. A resonance comes between them at those two syllables.
God, even her name sounds sweet.
“Zoey…” Rumi repeats, trying it out for herself. It sounds right. She can almost swear she sees the alpha’s breath catch. The notes of her name seemed to resonate with their own—like it belonged.
“I’m Rumi. And this is Mira, my mate.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Zoey,” Mira replies warmly. Zoey returns her warmth with a smile that leaves the room brighter than before.
Introductions are all it takes for everything else to fall into place.
The conversation continues for far longer than any of them expect, having a mind of its own and taking them from one topic to the next without pause.
Neither of them were in any hurry to finish the conversation, and Zoey seems to have forgotten what she came to them for in the first place. The book lays closed on the table between the three of them.
Somewhere between curiosity and surprise, the faintest beginnings of fondness settle quietly. Any initial apprehension and tension leaves as quickly as it came, leaving behind an inexplicable ease.
Something about this—about Zoey—felt right.
Their eyes fixate on her as she falls back into her rambling. The nervous edge of the alpha’s scent grows soft with sweetness, bitterness receding into warmth. It was addicting.
Without even realizing it, Rumi and Mira find themselves leaning closer across the table, seeking out the alpha’s scent. Closer now they could almost taste it.
Salted caramel and warmth that can only be described as the sun itself wisps around their little table.
Their instincts settle, quiet in content. Something they’ve haven’t been searching for now found in Zoey’s mere presence.
Zoey carries the conversation along, with Rumi and Mira more than happy to be swept along.
The alpha tells them anything and everything. How she’s just moved here. How she’s majoring in Computer Science just like her brother in the year above her, but also taking a minor in Marine Biology—and that she loves sea animals (that part is hard to forget, what with the way she goes on a tangent about Hawksbill sea turtles for a solid few minutes).
They eat it all up, hanging on Zoey’s every word. Hanging on her scent and its warm, sunny edge as she revels in their undivided attention.
“...and well, aside from my brother and some of his friends.” Zoey gestures vaguely, her crooked grin showing off the tips of those fangs. “I don’t really know anyone around here. I mean, yeah, i
I have them—but just me? By myself? I’m packless,” Zoey confesses.
An air of shyness creeps into the alpha’s scent in the way it turns meek, sweetness receding back into itself almost attempting to hide. It’s endearing how she refuses to meet their eyes, a flush rising to dust across freckled cheeks.
The admission makes the pair's brows furrow in thought. How odd, especially for someone so personable and sweet, to not have a pack of her own already. It almost doesn't sound right that no one's swept up the sweet girl before them yet.
It takes barely a glance. Rumi meets her mate's eyes for the shortest of seconds before understanding settles between them. Mira's eyes soften, the corner of her lip quirks up into a faint smile as she subtly nods in permission. Rumi brightens at the response, seizing the opportunity presented before them as quickly as it comes.
“Not for long I hope,” Rumi replies, a purr laced in her voice.
The omega lets her scent swell with interest, leaning forward across the table. Tilting her head, tantalizingly so, as a floral jasmine and unabashed want permeates the air around them.
Mira instinctively relaxes. Her mate's scent calms her at first breath. She fights not to roll her eyes—fondly of course—at Rumi’s lack of discretion. The deliberate tilt of her head to further expose her glands and to scent the air. Trust Rumi to be so forward. Mira adores it greatly.
The alpha’s scent spikes, vanilla and tobacco rich and intoxicating in response to the omega’s blatant implication—or so they think.
Almost as soon as it comes, it’s gone.
The alpha’s scent recedes again, not in shyness or embarrassment—no—rather, it’s forcibly pulled back. They barely have time to revel in the addictive aroma before it dissipates.
Rumi hides a barely concealed whine and a complaint for it to return. Mira presses her lips together in an effort to stay impassive. It was a good effort, if not for the ways their pupils dilate, eyes eclipsed with shameless interest and chests rising greedily with each breath.
Fuck, she smells good.
Zoey’s eyes widen briefly. Face flushing and freckled cheeks reddening with a blush that only makes those scattered stars stand out even more. She sits up straighter at the comment, eyes flitting between the pair of omegas as if unsure where to keep her gaze.
And then she laughs.
The alpha gives them a lopsided smile, shy and awkward and oh so endearing as a faint giggle slips past her lips and—oh god, she’s trying to kill them.
It’s enough to knock them dead off their feet. It’s a good thing they're sitting. Otherwise, they’d very well be stumbling over themselves at the mere sound of it.
Zoey laughs, light and soft in the quiet of the library, but larger than life itself. The soft giggles fill them with something so much more. A satisfaction they didn’t know was missing until the moment they finally felt complete.
One laugh is all it takes for them to be absolutely and undeniably smitten.
Here they are at their big age, butterflies in their stomachs and hearts in their eyes like lovesick teenagers at the sweetest and prettiest alpha they’ve ever laid eyes on.
God help them, they can not fumble this.
It’s stupid—truly, it is.
But they can’t deny the way Zoey is just so… charming. Charming and alluring without even trying. Really it’s unfair.
It was odd for them to enjoy the presence of an alpha at all, even the sweet ones (as rare as they are). But something about Zoey just clicked. Her scent and presence wasn't overbearing, radiating warmth and sweetness that filled crevices like a gentle request rather than a demand. It didn’t carry that typical heady musk they were used to smelling from other alphas, the natural overwhelming scent that instinctively dominated spaces.
Oh—and of course, she was cute. And so their type. Which they didn’t even know they had but by God was Zoey checking all the boxes.
They wanted her bad.
So bad, that they make a point of flaunting themselves to her like a pair of peacocks. Not an ounce of shame as they behave like a pair of lovesick teenagers.
Rumi bats her eyes to an exaggerated extent, smiling sweetly and giggling girlishly to every word Zoey says as she twirls a loose strand of hair around her finger. Mira hums along in affirmation and interest, responding in short replies yet leaning closer as to not miss a single detail.
If the heart eyes, giggling, and the extremely forward flirting weren’t enough to signal their attraction, the way their scents practically begged for the alpha’s attention was.
Mira’s scent falls like the touch of rain. It kisses Zoey’s skin in a cooling veil before the warmth of interest overtakes it. The heat of Mira’s scent goes down like an alcoholic heat. Rumi takes it in like her favorite drink. Zoey’s throat bobs at her first taste.
Rumi’s own jasmine scent takes on a honeyed floral sweetness, natural attraction at work. It crawls over and across, vines looping around the trellis of Zoey’s body until she’s held in a vice.
Ease falls into place between the three of them, settling in amidst conversations and mingling scents with a familiarity of a previous lifetime.
They fall into each others’ rhythm, learning to navigate the steps to a threeway dance. Each one guiding. Each one following.
Time passes them by.
Somewhere between stories of Zoey riding her bike into a tree, and Rumi and Mira butting heads in high school, an alarm goes off.
The sudden noise breaks them out of their trances, reaching for pockets and bags to silence the offending noise.
Unsurprisingly, it’s Zoey’s.
She taps frantically at the screen to shut it off while stammering out an apology at the disturbance.
“Sorry—sorry! I have those set as reminders. As you can see,” she gestures towards their little space, phone in hand, “I lose track of time a lot.”
The alpha’s scent edges towards nervousness. A slowly burning edge to the present sweetness.
Mira reacts immediately. Her own scent reaches out to soothe the alpha, cooling rain and petrichor dousing the flames until Zoey’s shoulders relax once more.
“Don’t worry, we get it,” Mira reassures. “I have to remind this one to take breaks whenever she gets lost in her work.”
Rumi huffs at being exposed, batting at her mate’s shoulder but not denying the statement.
It works to brighten the air again, Zoey giggling as the smile returns to her face.
“It’s okay, Rumi. I do that too. I'll be working late at night and then next thing I know I turn around and the sun’s shining in my face.”
Rumi softens at the admission. She can see it already, Zoey so lost in her own devices, much like when she rambles, until the sun unknowingly rises to greet her and the following panicking at the loss of sleep.
It’s so very her.
“Oh great, there’s two of you now,” Mira deadpans, playful and not an ounce of bite to her voice.
It makes Zoey’s smile grow a little bit wider, goofy and amused.
Mira is unable to keep a straight face. A smile graces her features as the two of them lock eyes. The air between them softens, something quietly taking shape.
Rumi coughs politely.
The sound makes the pair startle and turn towards her, matching wide-eyes and questioning looks on their faces.
The visual of it makes her smile. She tilts her head towards Zoey’s phone, a silent reminder.
“Shoot, right! Class!” Zoey pushes her chair back, the scrape of wood against tile a stark noise in the silent room.
She scrambles around to gather her things. Muttering a checklist under her breath to make sure she doesn't leave anything behind. Checking twice, and then three times for good measure, Zoey nods to herself in satisfaction.
She’s just about to zip up her bag before her gaze lands on the book lying unopened on the table.
Right. The reason she came to the library in the first place, almost forgot about that.
She’s just about to reach for it before remembering she isn’t alone. Or the fact that they had the book first. Or that she never actually got their permission to borrow it.
Zoey mentally kicks herself, way to be rude.
Straightening herself out, Zoey looks back up to address the pair.
“Oh! By the way—” She freezes, mouth hanging open as words fail and—oh god what was she going to say again?
All thoughts leave her brain at the sight of Rumi and Mira watching her. Their eyes track every frantic movement as Zoey packs her bag.
Rumi tilts her head and—oh god—can you be attracted to the way someone tilts their head? The movement is smooth, tantalizing as it exposes the smooth curve of the omega’s neck right where her scent gland hides.
It makes Zoey’s heart hammer in her chest. Instinct rears its head, howling at her for something. She doesn’t let it have a voice, immediately beating it back with a stick until it goes quiet.
Zoey swallows her instincts down with a whine.
She hopes they don’t hear it.
The matching smiles on their faces tell her otherwise.
The alpha’s scent goes pliant—soft—an exposed underside willing and docile to the sharp, twin gazes pinning her in place. It’s not intentional. But the way they look at her is.
She doesn’t have a name for it but it’s there in the way they watch her with intent. With purpose. With reason. Something more than just observation.
Zoey takes a shaky breath. An attempt to calm herself to get the words out.
She nearly chokes as jasmine and earth fill her lungs until it overflows.
They compliment each other with an intensity. Rumi’s scent like spring, the fresh bloom to Mira’s petrichor and grounding earth. A harmony as their scents mingle, curling around each other until it becomes one. Perfect. Whole.
Her tongue feels heavy in her own mouth.
She wills herself to speak anyway.
“You guys don’t mind if I borrow this for now, do you?” Zoey asks bashfully.
The two of them don’t even so much as glance at the book, their gazes firmly planted on Zoey. Nothing else but Zoey.
It’s as terrifying as it is thrilling. The alpha wrestles between the instinctual need to start preening and puffing her chest at the omegas’ attention, and her rational brain begging her to not look like an arrogant knothead.
She shakes herself out of the internal battle.
Focus. She needs to focus.
“Of course not,” Mira purrs, smooth and low. “Besides, all the more reason to come hunt you down later.”
And then—and fucking then—Mira, honest to god, winks at her.
Zoey’s pretty sure she’s going to die.
She’s going to die and it’s going to be Mira’s fault because of that stupid attractive wink and—and did she mean anything by it? Hunting her down later? Who says that so casually? Unless it wasn’t casual—no! Stupid! She just means she’s going to come find her later. For the book.
Focus.
Rumi giggles at her obvious bluescreening, eyes crinkling softly at the edges, and the sound is so soft that it makes Zoey’s ears feel like they're stuffed with cotton.
How is she expected to focus in these conditions?
It’s so unfair and cruel. It’s torture of the best kind. Of two sweet, pretty (really pretty) omegas giving her their full attention and laughing at her fumbling around like some pup.
Oh god, she’s embarrassing herself. She’s embarrassing herself in front of the prettiest girls she’s ever seen and she’s going to die.
Zoey attempts to fight the whimper clawing its way out of her throat. She fails miserably.
The sound makes the pair of omegas smile amusedly.
She’s going to kill herself. No—she can’t do that, she still has to give them back the book. The book that she needs for her class. The class that she’s going to be late for if she doesn’t get going right now instead of humiliating herself even more.
Zoey shakes herself out of her embarrassment, quickly moving to pick up the book, shove it in her bag, and sling it over her shoulder.
“Right—later! I’ll hunt—see! I mean, I’ll see you both later too!” She smiles in what she hopes isn’t awkwardly as she fumbles over her words. “Thanks for letting me borrow it for now, I owe you both big time—like for real. I’ll treat you to drinks or lunch or something—okay I actually have to go now. It was really nice meeting you guys!”
It comes out quick and frantic, and to be honest she isn’t sure what half the things that came out of her mouth were.
She focuses intently on not tripping over her own two feet as she gets up to leave.
Zoey feels their gazes follow her all the way out.