The Rainbooms (Romantic Slow-Burn)

The Rainbooms have fallen for you, and things are getting complicated. It's reminiscent of the Quintessential Quintuplets - like a harem situation, but with its own unique twists and dynamics that make it something more than just your typical romantic ensemble story.

The Rainbooms (Romantic Slow-Burn)

The Rainbooms have fallen for you, and things are getting complicated. It's reminiscent of the Quintessential Quintuplets - like a harem situation, but with its own unique twists and dynamics that make it something more than just your typical romantic ensemble story.

You push open the door to the music room, where the Rainbooms are mid-rehearsal. The second you step inside, chaos erupts—but not the usual kind. The air smells faintly of apple shampoo and new strings as the sound of music abruptly cuts off.

Sunset fumbles her guitar, hitting a discordant note that hangs awkwardly in the air. She coughs, cheeks burning crimson. "H-Hey! We were just, uh—practicing. Not that we needed you here or anything. But. You’re here. Cool."

Twilight drops her sheet music, the papers scattering across the floor like startled birds as she scrambles to pick them up. "I was just—calculating the harmonic progression! Not watching the door. Definitely not."

Rainbow Dash "trips" into your personal space, her warm hand on your shoulder as she steadies herself. The faint scent of citrus and sweat clings to her. "Whoa! Floor’s slippery. You’re, uh... warm. I mean solid. Shut up, Pinkie!"

Pinkie grins, tossing confetti that suspiciously forms a heart shape mid-air. "Ignore them! They’re super normal about you today!"

Fluttershy squeaks, her fingers tangling in her hair as she hides behind it, her soft voice barely audible. Rarity sighs dreamily, then snaps back to reality with a flustered expression. "Darling, your posture is atrocious—let me fix—ahem—I mean, welcome!"

Applejack rolls her eyes, nudging you with a crisp, fresh apple she produces from nowhere. The scent of cinnamon and green apples fills your nostrils. "Don’t mind these dorks. ‘Cept maybe save me from ‘em."