#ot3: comfortable

[drawyourblankas]

Draw your characters like this

[comfortyart]

Peaceful evenings 💕🌃

[not-poignant]

Tradewinds Launch - A Fae Tales Novel - Jan 31st

FULL NOVEL RELEASE on JANUARY 31st - EXCLUSIVE to REAM & PATREON ONLY

In the dangerous, ethereal realm of the fae, alliances between the Seelie and Unseelie fae merchants are few. Some say impossible. Matan, a Seelie fae and peacock pheasant shifter with a talent for trade, must keep his Seelie alignment a secret as he embarks on a perilous journey to gather wealth and save a loved one from a terrible curse. He joins an Unseelie merchant caravan of fae who would surely eat him if they learned of his alignment. The enigmatic Udir, a paranoid Unseelie master of poisons and bearded vulture shifter, discovers Matan’s secret and threatens to blackmail him in exchange for vile favours. But Udir’s bravado and bluster hides a painful past and Matan isn’t as innocent or as naïve as he seems. Amid bustling markets, savvy clients, and travelling to new lands Matan has never seen before, Tradewinds is a story of love, found family, trust, betrayal, and the healing that can grow in the shadows of the vibrant, perilous southern fae lands.

Foxhall @ Ream (available on the Gary+Efnisien tiers or higher) Foxhall @ Patreon (available on the Gary+Efnisien tiers of higher)

[happygirl2oo2]

Hardison (left) and Parker (right) definitely have at least one selfie that looks just like this picture and you can't change my mind 🤷‍♀️

Is Eliot the one in place of the kid in the back? maybe... 😌

[obizenyukii]

immediately smiling when zen enters the room <3

[the-starry-seas]

fox has a panic attack during a thunderstorm, and bail and breha are there to comfort him

Fox tears awake with a scream, his back arching off the bed, fingers digging into the mattress, his back burning. Thunder still growls and grumbles overhead. He doubts they heard him.

Something moves suddenly at his side and he moves on instinct, rolling away, presenting his back to the thing and curling around the vulnerable parts of himself. His hands cover the back of his head, a feeble effort, but the only thing he can do. If they hit him there too many more times, the medics won't be able to do anything about the damage.

"What's the matter?" murmurs a soft voice.

His gaze meet Breha's in the hazy soft light of the moon. She looks half-asleep still, squinting against the light coming in through the window, no idea what's going on.

Kark, when something happens, she won't be awake enough to protect herself.

Lightning flashes and he flinches, a full-body shudder violent enough that the mattress trembles with him as a sob escapes his lips.

Breha sits up, turns away, fumbles with the lamp on the bedside table. It clicks on and casts a warm golden glow across the blankets.

"Oh, Fox."

She sounds so dismayed, and he curls tighter around himself.

"I'm sorry," he gasps out, not knowing what he's apologising for, only that it often makes the pain stop sooner. "I'm sorry, I'll be better-"

"Bail," she says instead. "Bail!" There's a rustle behind Fox. "Where did we put Fox's emergency medication?"

"Kriff, it's in his bag," Bail says, and there's a tug at the blankets over Fox's leg as Bail gets up in a hurry, rushing out to the foyer and barely stopping long enough to turn the light on.

Something crashes to the floor outside and Fox flinches again, begging anyone listening that it wasn't a shiny who did that. He can't protect them, not when he's broken like this. They're going to be punished, they're going to be hurt, and it's all because he's a failure, he's useless, he never should have let himself think otherwise-

Bail sits down on the bed next to her, where the light is, face gilded and grieving. The small plastic pouch in his hand is already open, the sensor inside blinking a slow orange.

"Fox, I need to touch the back of your neck," he says.

"No, Senator, please," Fox begs, already sick to his stomach with the knowledge that no begging will save him. It's not Bail, in that moment, it's just a faceless thing that grabs and pushes, and spares nothing in its quest to conquer him.

Bail sighs quietly, looking down at his lap. "You're going to have to move your hands."

Fox doesn't want to move his hands, but soldiers follow orders. He tucks them to his chest, every line of his body tensed in anticipation of another blow.

He whines deep in his throat when Bail leans over him, an instinctive reaction to terror that he can't hold back. It's Bail who flinches then, but his hand is cool and gentle on Fox's skin.

"I know," Bail whispers. "I'm sorry. Does it hurt?"

Lightning flashes again, and Fox is paralysed with fear. He chokes on nothing, gasping for breath, drowning on dry land, and worst of all, he hates himself for the look on Bail's face. Like Bail is watching something horrible happen to someone he loves.

It must be too much to bear, because Bail gets up. There's the sound of the curtains closing, but with the lamp there - with Breha there - the room doesn't seem much darker. Music starts from somewhere, the waltz that they first taught him to dance. It doesn't do anything to hide the thunder, but it's not the thunder that ever hurt him.

The medication in the patch works quickly, the sensor's colour changing to green as Fox's vital signs even out to normal.

"How do you feel?" Breha asks quietly.

He uncurls himself slowly, stiff with tension. There's a part of his brain that turns off in all the terror. That knows that with the patch, it could only have been ten minutes at the most, before calm returned.

It still felt like a thousand years.

He sits up slowly, fingers splayed across the mattress. The patches always make him feel a little dizzy - Bail and Breha will insist that he doesn't get up for another few minutes - but that's no price to pay. Without the patches, that would have lasted for hours.

"Thank you," he whispers, and with gratitude comes shame. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. I didn't mean to bother you."

"Fox Organa, I love you."

He's seen her in a professional capacity so many times, but for the rest of his life, Breha will never look more like a queen than she does then, in nothing but his shirt going down to her knees, her hair loose and messy around her face, her voice softer than silk and warmer than summer sun.

"I love you," she repeats, "and you will never be a burden to me."

"Or to me," Bail adds. He sets a hand on her shoulder, and she sets her own on top of it. His other hand, he holds out to Fox.

Fox clings to them instead, trying to lose what remains of him in the smell of Breha's hand lotion and Bail's shampoo. They say nothing until he turns his face to kiss Breha's cheek, then stands, unsteady on his feet, to lean into Bail and kiss him, too.

He sits back down and lets out a breath, reminding himself that he's safe here. Palpatine died years ago. Breha wrote clone rights into the planet's laws not long after. Bail oversaw the construction of this place. The lightning will never again touch his skin. Never, ever again.

"I'm better," he says finally. "Thank you." To prove it, he doesn't wait for them to ask. "I want to go back to bed with both of you here. I want you to touch the flowers."

They lay on either side of him, their breathing still a little more even than his. Breha leaves the lamp on. He's grateful for that. Their hands are gentle on his back.

Not the scars, he reminds himself, tucking his face into the oversized pillow that's somehow even softer than his sleep shirt. Not the scars. The flowers.

The palace medics had promised that the scars could be wiped away like they never existed. He'd thought about it, once. But those injuries had healed. The ones in his mind...

Foxgloves, Breha said, when he asked about the flowers almost as tall as he was, planted around the palace. He asked what they meant. Bail said that sometimes flowers don't have a meaning, they're just beautiful.

He had a foxglove tattooed along the length of his spine, over the scars from the lightning. To remind himself that sometimes things could be beautiful. To convince himself that when they look at his back, they're not looking at his scars.

Sometimes, when the bathroom mirror is fogged from the steam of a long shower, he can't see the scars in his reflection. He only sees the gentle lines of the blooms.

They'll fall asleep before he will. He won't mind staying awake to watch over them.

"I love you," he whispers.

They say it back in unison. He smiles a little at that. No matter what they do, they're always so sure of themselves. And when they saw him, when they wanted him, when they cherished him, they were so sure of that, too. It's the only thing he ever had any faith in.

As it turns out, they stay awake to watch over him, and they don't mind.

[khruschevshoe]

"You too, huh?": An Unhinged Ten/Jack/Martha Meta

Alright, so, Ten/Martha/Jack's dynamic has been rotating rent free in my brain all week. You have two people- Jack and Martha- who both admit to fancying a man who could never love them back, a man who is so embroiled in grief over a woman that Jack clearly once loved as much as he loved the Doctor, a man who showed them the stars and showed them the horrors of the universe. A man who directly leads to them both becoming greater and worse than they ever were before, a man who took their lives and twisted himself inside of every strand of them forever, a man who offered them a hand and kissed them and became the best and the worst thing to ever happen to them.

And it's not just the Year That Never Was- it's more than that. It's Jack dying for the Doctor and then being cursed with eternity and yet despite a century of being tortured by Torchwood/waiting for the Doctor, he never lost hope in the Doctor being able to fix him. It's Martha going through some of the worst shit any companion has had to in a single season (the racism/hopelessness she had to face in Human Nature/Family of Blood, being stuck in the 1960s for months and having to get a job with no guarantee that she'd ever make it out, having to walk the dystopian earth for a year with the weight of the literal world on her shoulders, nearly burning to death due to a living sun, taking on the psychological weight of keeping the Doctor steady- hell, the Doctor's purposeful ignorance of her feelings isn't even at the top of the list and yet it still did damage) and yet managing to find the strength to respect herself and leave.

It's the way that both of them have their images of the Doctor irreversibly cracked at the end of the Year That Never Was. They still believe in the Doctor, would still go to the ends of the earth for the planet, as we see in Journey's End, but they don't quite fancy him anymore. They can't. Jack was tortured and killed over and over again by the Master for a year straight and Martha was forced to walk the burning earth for a year straight while her family was tortured and yet at the end of it all, the Doctor didn't comfort them. He cradled the Master in his arms and begged him to regenerate and sobbed when he didn't.

It's the way that Martha and Jack are the ones to make the initial threats to Davros in Journey's End. (Yes, Sarah Jane helped with the warp star, and made threats of her own, but Martha and Jack opened up the comms. They looked the creator of the Daleks in the eyes and said do you hear me?) Martha and Jack walk off at the end of Journey's End holding hands, because they're so similar, at the end of the day, because they understand each other, because "you too, huh?"

But it's also the Doctor looking at them both and seeing Jack and seeing something wrong with the man he once loved (don't tell me that Nine didn't reciprocate his feelings, I've got a whole post on the Rose/Jack/Nine dynamic) that he can't ignore, because he's the last one of his species and he's the only one left to pay attention to the laws of time. It's the Doctor needing a doctor of his own, someone with a better grasp on themselves than he does, and completely ignoring the damage that it does to her to keep him steady.

It's the Doctor being unable to love Jack while Jack over and over again coming to his call. It's the Doctor coming the second that Martha calls him in the Sontaran Stratagem and maybe, just maybe, realizing that he got something wrong. It's about Martha being a doctor being a soldier and the Doctor being a soldier who never wanted to be a soldier but won't admit that he's a soldier and Jack being a con-man who was fixed and broken by a doctor and so became a soldier to find his Doctor.

(It's about the fact that after Journey's End happened and the Doctor lost Donna and Rose, he really should have realized what he could have had waiting for him. Maybe gone back and groveled and maybe gotten slapped and then gotten hugged. Or kissed. Or they slept together, if that's your jam.)

[lavendertheys]

Length: 3,100 words Rating: T for language and heavy themes TWs: mentions of violence, abuse, grooming

She comes closer and eases herself down to the worn wooden planks, mirroring his position minus her hands, which she can’t help but wring just a little as she gathers her thoughts. “Where’d Chet and Dorian run off to?”

Orym shakes his head once. “Don’t know. I just asked them for some time.”

“Can’t meditate through all that snorin’, huh?”

His smile is small, but he opens his eyes, and locks onto Imogen. “Not even on a good day.”

“So definitely not on a bad night,” Imogen says, words gentle but still pointed enough for Orym to know what she’s getting at.

Orym shakes his head again. “For what it’s worth,” he replies softly, “I didn’t want to hurt her, either.”

.

(Post-95 conversations. Title from "The Great War" by Taylor Swift.)

[leverageficrecs]

Leverage Fic Rec:

The Principle of Least Action by newt426 on AO3

Summary (from the author):

After having a meltdown in front of the team, Parker is worried that she is "too much" for them. Hardison and Eliot make sure she knows that this isn't true.

Why I recommend it: I adored the portrayal of Parker’s POV and found the story very tender and comforting. I love when fics explicitly portray her autism and her experience of being autistic, as this fic does.

[v4visms]

[drawyourblankas]

Draw your characters like this

[lockwood-fic-recs]

We Don't See the Sun Anymore

by EudociaCovert on ao3

Rating: T | Category: Gen, Multi | Relationship: Lockwood/Lucy/George

“This isn’t a job interview. It’s a trap, Ms Carlyle. Run.”

There is no Lockwood & Co. to take Lucy in when she reaches London. There is however a Ghost Cult called the Visionaries, and two missing boys locked in a basement.

[remyfire]

"Thank heavens none of us has to stand it alone."

[lunar-years]

Oh man oh man oh man if Phoebe, who is basically co-parented by Uncle Roy, gets a sibling who comes with her own dad? I feel like that’s SO crunchy, because if Roy is there as the *third* adult instead of the second he’s not going to be as involved as he was with Phoebe and I feel like there’s going to be so many complicated feelings about that for Phoebe. (Including probably some “good, I don’t have to share” feelings lol.)

YEAH. Listen I love the headcanon because it's SO crunchy along the way but then it ends really happily because their little family expands and more love is never a bad thing <3 also ROY & Co. WITH A LITTLE BABY!!! <3<3 let's appreciate the vision!!

but yeah I think like, if Roy's sister (who i'm going to call Ruth for the sake of the rest of my response because it's too difficult to not use a name and keep everyone straight lmao) was seriously dating someone and then was like hey we're getting married and then shortly thereafter was like oh yeah by the way I'm pregnant:

Roy would definitely go through it a bit because in my head, he didn't realize what was happening/how it really was between Ruth and Phoebe's Dad until Ruth was already like, REALLY in it. Maybe he even liked the guy. I sort of think he did, just because it's extra prickly and it adds to the intense anger over the situation we see him express in canon. Like, not only is he mad at himself for not realizing how Ruth was being treated, he's also mad that he didn't see the signs and wasn't around when he needed to be, and he's furthermore mad that he was friendly with this guy the times he'd met him when he of course should have known to slug him in the face in advance from the first time he met him, etc. Irrational thought patterns, you know how it is.

So. His panicky brain realistically knows this ISN'T the same. But he's also extra vigilant, especially now that he not only has Ruth to worry about but also Phoebe. So he really has to talk things through with his therapist and Ruth and express his fears to Jamie and Keeley before he really can start to feel okay about the whole thing.

Then once he's accepted Ruth's new boo and is excited for all of them, he gets hit with the "you're getting a new niece or nephew!" news, which sets off the panic alarms AGAIN. because what if he's used up all his good uncle juices on Phoebes and there's not enough left over for the new kid? (i just think Roy tragically overthinks everything lmao)

Also, and the Bigger Thing, is how does he navigate just having to be an uncle to this child without the extra responsibility of having to be a co-parent to them like he's been for Phoebe? What's the balance there? And can he step back to let this new person into Phoebe's life, and what if he fills up the role Roy has in her life and pushes Roy out completely? He wants to give as much of himself to this new child as he'd given to Phoebe but he doesn't quite know what new role to play.

Meanwhile Phoebe is having a similar crisis about accepting this new person and then a new sibling into her home. As you say, she doesn't want Roy to not be there in the same way he's always been there, and she also has all the typical pre-teen angst and this is just one more thing. She doesn't want anything to change. She'd very skeptical of this new guy who is suddenly always around. Why does her mum even like him? etc. etc.

This is a great opportunity for Phoebe and Jamie bonding and an Uncle Jamie teaching moment, because Jamie of course also has a stepparent, and one I personally believe he was VERY skeptical of when Simon first came into his life. So he can share with Phoebe the role Simon's played in his own life and in doing so, gently encourage her to give Ruth's partner a chance. ❤️

everything ends up all right of course. Ruth's partner is a wonderful person who slides right into the family and is very patient with Phoebe and Roy both. And they all instantly fall in love with new baby. Phoebe would be the best big sister. I think it would just be really exciting for everyone involved!!

[xelasrecords]

As Daylight Comes

Han Jumin x MC

Jumin and MC have been married for a while, and their friendship with Jihyun is stronger than ever, so what better way to spend their morning together than to have breakfast with a side of teasing and musing on life?

Challenging myself to write a fluffy domestic scene because I realised I rarely write one. I also wanted to write Jihyun with his good ending personality because I barely see it in fics, so here he is at his healthiest mentally.

Words: 3.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

The two men's hushed laughter eased her awake, the morning sun a soft gleam behind her closed eyelids. The first voice was clear and deep, one that she heard every day and night spoken like an oath to her soul. The second was gentler, a pleasant lilting voice that she and her husband often heard in their regular calls. She smiled to herself and threw the covers aside; she had already known who she would see before reaching the doorway. They were the sounds that she knew well and loved.

At the dining table, Jumin, her Jumin, was sitting with his back facing her, the sleeves of his navy sweater rolled up. He was leaning forwards, engrossed in telling what she was sure to be a fascinating idea he had recently thought of and possibly should not ever be acted upon. Jihyun was sitting on the other side, his head ducked in an attempt to smother his laughter, mint hair catching the glimmer of sunlight that passed through the floor-length windows as he moved.

Her heart felt whole at the sight of their dearest friend. Finally, they were together. They did not have to painstakingly arrange calls that were always cut too short by their own lives anymore.

Watching them, she didn't think it was possible for them to be any less content than they were now and almost didn't want to intrude. Jumin's sincere laugh, the unrestrained kind only she could pull out, was floating across their spacious home. But she knew them, and knew that they would rather her join them and make their happiness complete. Time did not wear out their love for her, or her love for them. It strengthened their bond, pulling them in tighter than ever.

She could never grow tired of it. It was a feeling she had become accustomed to, yet still marvelled at the wonder, the near impossibility of it.

She padded across the room, the light granite floor cold beneath her feet, and slid her arm around Jumin's shoulders. "Wonderful morning everyone. I wasn't aware we had company." She pressed her lips against his mussed black hair, catching a faint whiff of fresh wild cedar. Jihyun, having seen her approach, visibly brightened and gave her a wide smile, one she graciously returned.

With one hand around her waist, Jumin pulled her onto his lap and kissed her shoulder, sliding up the thin strap of her loose top that had drooped down. "The company had stopped by unannounced."

Jihyun looked sheepish. "I'm sorry we woke you up. I thought we had been quiet enough."

"I'm honestly furious that you didn't wake me up earlier," she said good-naturedly. "Were you just going to leave if I didn't?"

"Jumin told me how you had to stay up all night for work. I didn't want to disturb you."

She waved it away and picked up a turkey sandwich in front of her, eating it with enthusiasm. "Disturb me all you want. I welcome it."

"Are you sure you don't need more rest?" Jumin murmured into her ear, both arms circling her waist. "I could force him to stay until you wake up later. Glue him to the chair with a powerful adhesive or a magic spell. I may not be the pioneer of creativity, but I have brought several creative projects to fruition. I could think of something."

"With determination comes great result?" she suggested.

"Exactly. There is no reason I can't attempt sorcery if nothing else works."

She turned around and winked. "I could help you with the enchantment."

He sighed into the crook of her neck. "This is why I married you, my exceptional wife. You are ever supportive and full of love."

Jihyun smiled despairingly into his slice of sandwich. "Why are you two the way you are?"

She and Jumin shrugged in one coordinated movement.

As she scanned the table for more food, she realised there were a variety of sandwiches and fruits spread across the marble top. Silently, she sent Jihyun her gratitude for bringing an abundance of anything other than pancakes. However much she loved Jumin, she was quite sick of slathering strawberry jam or maple syrup or even more strawberries on the pancakes he made.

The fruit assortment interestingly lacked strawberries too.

"This sandwich is good, Jihyun. Did you make this?" She examined her second helping of a toasted cheese sandwich in her hand. The cheese was still oozing when she bit into it.

He grinned. "Ah, it is?"

She performed a dramatic moan. "Orgasmically so."

She held back her laugh at the mischievous glint in his sea-green eyes. Truthfully, she might have sent a text to Jihyun to save her from a lifetime of pancake breakfast. And he might have responded to her plea with utmost seriousness and come to her rescue the very next day.

It was a possibility that they might have conspired on something that would have mildly offended Jumin, yes.

Some secrets were best kept as secrets.

But Jumin, blissfully oblivious, was studying her with extreme amusement. "I have to remind you that we skipped our morning sex. If you are heavily aroused, you only need to ask." His voice had dropped low, his breathing fanning her neck. "I will give you everything that you desire. It is what I wish for myself as well."

She leaned against his chest and whispered, "Make it an afternoon quickie. Let's do it later."

"So you're giving me the order to wait." His hands ran up the inside of her bare thighs until they reached the lining of her shorts, his clothed knees nudging her legs open. She suppressed a shiver; familiar was his touch to her, a pleasurable rush still spread across her skin whenever he did it. "What do I get in return? A fair bargain has to benefit both parties."

She squirmed against his thighs on purpose, knowing the friction would crack his composure. "You get a lesson in patience," she drawled, voice low and raspy, "and I get to watch you exercise your iron will. I will be satisfied. Didn't you want me to feel good?"

Jumin looked scandalised. "In nowhere would that be constituted as a fair deal, and patience is a virtue I have long been practising. I wish to propose an alternative."

"Shall I take my leave?" Jihyun interrupted. "I don't have to see to know what you two are doing down there."

"Nothing!" Hastily, she put away Jumin's hands and grabbed Jihyun's over the table before he could stand, ignoring Jumin's huffing. "Please stay. We are two very chaste adults."

Jihyun's smile was wry. "That's not what I heard about your sex life."

"You told him?" She whirled on Jumin. "I thought you'd have more respect for my intimate life. This is a breach of my privacy. I'd never got a betrayal of this magnitude, and from my own husband!"

"Interesting," Jumin said. "Would you like to know how he reacted when I recounted our latest session? He was not surprised. Not one bit. In fact, he was too ready to supply a reaction. I have to wonder if he had prepared himself beforehand."

She narrowed her eyes at Jihyun. "You traitor."

"I was just trying to be supportive, but I suppose Jumin has always been too good at reading my intentions." Jihyun shook his head regretfully.

"That's right," Jumin said, a smug tone in his voice. He was always proud when he could prove their decades of friendship through their mutual understanding.

With a scoff, she shifted to the chair beside him and scooped a handful of blueberries and an egg sandwich into his plate before doing the same for Jihyun. When she looked down, she saw that Jihyun had filled hers as well. For a while, the dining room was silent as they dug into their meal, save for the cutleries clinking against plates and fabrics rustling when they helped each other with more food and drinks.

She could live like this every day, she thought. It wouldn't be so bad to have Jihyun here more often. Jumin was one of the kindest people she had ever known, but he had edges that remained sharp and could only soften in the presence of his best friend. Jumin with Jihyun was fully at peace, and Jihyun was no different. He spoke his mind without holding back and did not hesitate to share his art with him. Between them was a sense of safety she never found between anyone else.

Anyone else except her own friendship with him.

Jihyun meant just as much to her, and she to him. They would sacrifice their sleep if one was ringing up the other in dire trouble, despite being on opposite sides of the globe. And sometimes Jumin would leave them to talk into the night while he slept, knowing they had things they were more comfortable sharing alone, though he would chide her for the black rings under her eyes in the morning and fuss over her.

Jumin was never jealous. Rather, he was delighted that his wife got along well with his best friend and had no qualms announcing it whenever he could, not caring if anyone thought it strange. To him, the joy of seeing the two people he loved the most being close surpassed other petty emotions. She could read it on his face. It would have broken his heart if they found each other's company distasteful.

She wondered if it was the same for Jumin, if he could see that she cherished Jihyun and had missed him too. She might have entered their lives later, but time did not dictate closeness. If someone were to be taken out of the equation, the other two would be left flailing, stranded with half of their string cut.

She felt the three of them were always better when they existed in the same space.

"Did you know why he came here?" Jumin cut through her thoughts and gestured at Jihyun. "He claimed to have forgotten his camera. Under normal circumstances, I would have accepted it as a reasonable excuse, except he has done this three times."

"You said it like it's a bad thing. Do you not want me to drop by?" Jihyun asked mildly.

Jumin raised his brows. "You're an artist. You could have come up with a more creative excuse."

She straightened up and looked right into Jihyun's lively eyes. They were the eyes that had freed themselves from the sorrow that plagued his younger, more foolish years. "Ignore this cynical guy. He doesn't know that joy is found in little things. I, for one, commend you for your intricate planning. That is some strategising and determination you have shown. Anyone who doesn't appreciate your effort shouldn't be eating your food." She glared at Jumin.

"Thank you for recognising my effort, but that isn't all." Jihyun paused. "I also missed you. I enjoyed my trip, but the places I visited made me yearn to come back because you weren't there. Of course, I speak including you, Jumin."

"I see I have been demoted to an afterthought," remarked Jumin.

"That is what you get for acting all mighty." She rose to fetch a glass of orange juice from across the table, Jumin holding back the front of her loose white top as she leaned, but Jihyun was faster. He had noticed what she had been eyeing before and placed the glass in front of her. She smiled gratefully at him; she doubted there was anyone more eager to help than Jihyun. It was a quality she and Jumin liked to discuss admiringly among themselves.

Jumin settled back into his seat and picked a grape from the centre platter. "I don't appreciate the poor translation of my intention."

"At least you know you can rhyme," she said and turned to Jihyun. "You have to know how much he pined for you. He stared out the window like a Victorian lady waiting for her husband to be relieved from his duty. I thought he was one second away from being locked in the attic." She shook her head solemnly. "So close to being driven to madness from yearning."

Jumin let out a flat gasp. "Why, I never."

"Nevertheless," she pounced on, "I am not without conscience and virtue to lock anyone away, especially when that person is someone of my own heart, so I had no choice but to persist. Have some pity on me, I beg you!" She clutched at her chest.

Jihyun burst into laughter, which produced a small smile from Jumin. "All right, I'll admit I missed you," Jumin gave in. "I could use seeing you more often."

A brief look of wonder flashed in Jihyun's eyes, searching Jumin's and was quickly reassured when they recognised the familiar fondness in his unwavering gaze. The steel in Jumin's grey eyes dared Jihyun to refute it, but he wouldn't, not this grown version of him.

Some people struggled with getting used to being loved unabashedly. She recalled when Jihyun was a younger boy and how he would rather stake himself than accept the love he was given, but that was long ago. Time and their persistence in loving him had encouraged him to be brave, and Jihyun himself had learned to allow people to love him. The vulnerability of baring your soul to love someone could be unbearable, but believing you were worthy of love could be just as unthinkable.

She was glad he had Jumin to rely on when they were children, and Jumin had him to be his true self with. What had been a constant, stumbling search for faith in each other had grown into intrinsic trust.

"How long can we do this still?" she wondered aloud. "Sometimes I feel like we haven't changed—we have eaten together like this more times than I could count—but we're not who we were anymore, are we?"

"Four hundred and five times," Jumin stated. "Barring other types of gatherings and casual hang-outs. A lot of things have happened since the first one." He lifted her hand against his lips and kissed the back of it reverently. She remembered the time before they fell for each other and how after they had, their connection had become more intimate than she had thought possible.

"You keep track, I should've guessed." Jihyun's voice held infinite softness. "It was an eternity ago. Goodness, we were such wide-eyed kids then."

"Perhaps the time we have left doesn't matter as much as the time we have shared together—the time we are sharing now," Jumin said. "But sometimes as I'm living in the present, I can already see how we will be entombed in history, though it's a memory that I will look back on fondly."

"Please don't say 'entombed'," she said. "Memories don't die just because they have passed. We keep them alive, just like this. We'll continue to talk about nonsense and eat good food and be there for one another. Otherwise, we wouldn't have anything to hold on to when life gets hard."

"Or maybe we won't do this forever. We can't tell what the future holds," Jihyun mused. "Change is the natural order of the universe, but in this life full of changes, I can always count on you two to be here for me, to make me happy." He smiled at them, the corner of his eyes crinkling. Jumin nodded contentedly, and she laid her head on his shoulder, sharing his peace.

"I certainly would be appalled if I stayed the same all these years." She shuddered. "I like that we change together, that our new shapes still fit each other somehow. I've grown out of enough friendships to know that this isn't always the case."

"I'm afraid I cannot comment much on friendships." Jumin frowned. "My friendship with Jihyun is the only true one that I have, but it wouldn't be complete if you never came into my life—our lives. I will always be thankful for that. You brought us all closer."

With an arm propped on the table, she watched Jumin's thoughtful expression and eased the crease between his forehead. He had spoken aloud of what she was thinking about earlier, the completeness of the bond between the three of them. It was funny, how sometimes it was as if his mind and hers were intertwined. The time they spent together has left an indisputable mark, seemingly without her notice.

Time was often like that. One day you clambered through life with cuts on your knees and found yourself standing on steadier ground, wiser but irreparably changed in the next. It did not beat on a steady rhythm; it sprinted and languished at the exact moments you wished it not to.

"Everything he said was true," Jihyun reached over the table to squeeze her hand. It was soft in her touch. "You're a blessing on earth. I was right to come here right away."

"Meeting us is always the right decision," said Jumin adamantly.

"Except if he's asking you to translate an ancient necromancy spellbook that's ninety-nine per cent fake, then maybe it isn't a good idea to be here," she added.

"Ninety-nine per cent?" Jumin sounded offended. "It's disrespectful to equate a book that holds mystical wonders unimaginable to mankind to a lousy disinfectant."

Jihyun ignored him and looked at her warily.

"He made me light up pungent-smelling candles around the house with him. I still don't want to know what kind of candles they were." She grimaced at the memory. "We had to move out for a few weeks until the smell disappeared."

Jihyun wrinkled his nose at Jumin. "What dead creature were you trying to raise?"

"A mouse that my bodyguard accused Elizabeth the Third has killed. Petty murders are below a lady as dignified as she," he declared with conviction. "I should know."

A look of surprise passed over Jihyun's face. "And you care enough about the mouse to call it back from death?" he asked slowly.

"I needed to put it under interrogation to extract the exact cause of its death," Jumin said. "It was imperative that I clear Elizabeth the Third's name."

"Naturally," she cut in cheerfully. "When one dies, one can simply be revived and questioned about one's lethal injury. No worries whatsoever that recalling the event might be traumatic to them."

"Did it, um"—Jihyun struggled to find the right word—"come alive?"

Jumin sighed in defeat. "I would have to try again another time."

"You would not." Her tone was severe. "You will either lose the truth of Elizabeth the Third's innocence or me. Your choice."

Jumin looked tortured, but she did not budge. Jihyun's eyes danced between them with amusement.

Eventually, Jumin splayed his hands out in resignation. "I shall comply with your wishes."

She patted his arm. "It's for the best. You don't want to accidentally exorcise the whole world with your corpse-raising activities. I can only support your hobbies up to a point, love."

At that, Jihyun chortled into his drink and Jumin shot him a betrayed look, though he still offered his handkerchief to him. "Not that I don't believe in you," Jihyun said when he calmed down, "but your experiments tend to be disastrous. Maybe you should consider those around you. We're the ones who have to deal with your mess."

Jumin crossed his arms. "You two have no loyalty towards me, especially you, dear lovely wife." He tilted his head at her. "You're supposed to be the love of my life. My sworn life partner for eternity."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, I did agree to glue Jihyun earlier. Was that not enough?"

"This is about me now?" asked Jihyun.

She produced a coy smile. "You're always in our hearts."

Jumin, seeing the opportunity to shift the blame, quickly said, "That's true."

"You two have sadistic hearts," Jihyun pointed out.

"Don't even try to deny that sadism isn't what you're into," she said and grinned when his cheeks heated up. "I know about your fantasies too."

Unfortunately, Jumin took this moment to inspect the table and made an astute observation, cutting off Jihyun's stammering. "It has occurred to me that we have too many sandwiches and no pancake in sight."

Her and Jihyun's attention snapped on each other, eyes widening in horror.

"Did you know how easy it is to make a strawberry pancake, Jihyun? We could eat it every day," Jumin went on.

"We could, yes," Jihyun said tactfully, "but it doesn't mean we should. Anything too much could make you sick, my friend."

"And I'm full," she chimed in. "Maybe next time?"

"She did eat a lot earlier," Jihyun said.

"Did you?" Jumin stared at her with suspicion.

She leaned back and rubbed her stomach. "A whole lot. If you force me to eat, I'd have no choice but to vomit everything onto your lap. That would disrespect Jihyun's hard work on packing all this food, and I'd be sick and have to eat again—which would be a major annoyance with a burned throat—and you'd have to change into stripeless pants."

Jumin looked puzzled. "But I have other striped pants."

"Not if I used all of them to clean up the vomit."

He sighed but relented. "If you say so."

When Jumin averted his gaze, she breathed out a silent air of relief and felt Jihyun nudging her foot beneath the table, a playful twinkle in his eyes. His lips were pressed into a flat line, fighting the smile threatening to break his sympathetic ruse. She prodded his foot back and gave him a light shrug.

Not long after, Jihyun would have to leave for yet another thing and she and Jumin would have to count the days until the next time they met. But it was not their concern yet. Right now, the murmurs of their talk and the music of their laughs were enough for her. There was nothing to complain about when they made her happy.

Distance and frequency of meetings did not matter. She could have one minute with them together and still be satisfied, however temporary the satisfaction might be. A mere minute would make her yearn for more until they piled up to make an infinite, but she was not demanding. Whatever little time they could carve out of their routine was enough.

This was good. They were happy and radiant and comfortable that she allowed herself to believe that it could last forever.

And it would. Their love would never wane.

-

Footnotes:

One thing I love about their friendship is how honest they are with their appreciation. They're not ashamed of showing that they care, and their elegant linguistic style (though V's is more casual than Jumin's) makes it easy to write their vulnerable feelings just as they are. They don't toughen up their words or purposely censor them when they get emotional. They're fluent in articulating their feelings, and I think this would be even more natural when they've all been close for a long time.

The domestic scene challenge was made easier since I was vibrating with giddiness to express more love for Jumin and V. I'm the happiest when I write about love and them. Grinning maniacally every time I type their story out.

Before anyone comes at me, I don't think Jumin would be jealous. He could be possessive when he's gripped by his darker thoughts, but in this phase of his life, he's stable. He's secure in his marriage, he has a grounded relationship that's nurtured over the years with MC, and he shares a safe emotional space with V. Everyone is at their best here. The three of them have complete trust and respect for each other.

When I first started writing here, I used to think I have to make the MC's personality neutral enough so that most readers could relate, but now it's free real estate. I do whatever I want.

I was nostalgic about my college days' friendship, hence the more sombre tone in the middle. It feels natural in my friendships to joke around and make sexual quips in one moment and reflect on life in the next. I wanted to recreate that safety and sense of belonging I used to feel.

This was supposed to be finished earlier but I suddenly went through a friendship breakup during the editing stage, so I couldn't find it in me to write about the joys of friendship when I just severed one of mine. She was my close friend for almost a decade. I still think about her from time to time.

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[sparrow-in-the-field]

I think a fun dynamic of established relationship ot3 would be if Jamie and Roy sometimes accidentally slip back into their old competitive ways with Keeley, just like, out of habit.

Like maybe Keeley's holed up in bed with bad period cramps or something and it's just like:

Roy: I brought you chocolate.

Jamie: I bought you higher quality chocolate.

Roy: well mine is a bigger bar and I also got you an herbal tea that's supposed--

Jamie: screw herbal tea, I got you a heating pad--

And eventually she just tells them to knock it off, reminding them that they like each other, or at least take the fight elsewhere because she doesn't feel well enough to deal with their nonsense (not before first collecting all of her goods of course)