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iamtaran · 4 years

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Rendezvous* AU

Jaskier is a professional, usually. He had worn out all the rough edges of this particular character over the years until it felt almost more comfortable than returning to being Julian at the end of the week. It may have taken a few years to curb his decidedly modern mouth and gain the respect of his fellow re-enactors, but during the open weekend when the visitors poured in? He was always on pointe. Spending the greater portion of an entire weekend in performance, in character-- it exhilarates him. The joy from the visitors, their laughs and surprise and unprepared blushes when he singles them out for a bit. If he could, he would eat it and live on it forever. Except, well, a man has to eat real food as well, and Jaskier had skipped breakfast in his rush. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. This particular Rendezvous at Alafia River always has more bakers, potato roasters, and poorly disguised Highland Games food carts peddling fish and chips than one could shake a stick at. Jaskier had simply followed his nose. It wouldn’t be a problem... Except the baker is the most attractive man Jaskier has ever clapped eyes on. “Essi, Essi, Essi,” he chants. “Essi, you’ve- I swear, if you don’t turn around-” “Jaskier, for god’s sake,” Essi hisses, sandwiched between a wooden stall and the shielding curtain of his body where she is attempting to subtly adjust her slipping décolletage. “I’m a little busy.” “Not too busy for this! Essi,” he whines. A hand smacks his arm, hard. “I’m not getting thrown from the Voo over a nip slip you f--forking child,” she grumbles into her cleavage. That adjusted, she nudges his shoulder out of the way. “Now, what are you whining about?” She looks, as usual, gorgeous, even with the momentary fashion crisis. No one looks better in crisp white chemise and dusty rose robe anglaise in linen. Well, except- “Him.” *** (*A Rendezvous is a historical reenactment/ living history event that may last an entire extended weekend, an entire week, 9 days. Participants camp on-site in pre-1860s period clothing, using as much historically accurate gear as possible and disguising any absolutely necessary modern amenities to keep from breaking immersion. Sometimes, the last weekend of the event is open to the public non-participants to wander through, purchase from artisans and craftsmen, often including folks from local tribes, and enjoy the musical or martial performances, historic rifle ranges, archery, delicious food, hatchet throwing, and more. This encounter may or may not be inspired by a memorable Rendezvous encounter as a visitor.)

Jaskier has never in six years seen this particular baker at this particular Rendezvous. Would that I had, he thinks somewhat wildly. It’s not one thing, really, that catches his attention, which sometimes does happen. He has fallen in love with a stranger’s heavy-lidded eyes, or a singular profile, or even the way someone tucked their legs up under them in a library chair. It is the way his pale, silvery hair wisps and half-curls around his face and across his forehead, where heavy brows furrowed in concentration. It is the shocking softness of his mouth compared to the granite cut of his jaw and the roughness of his stubble. It is his hands. Jaskier thinks they might be the most beautiful hands he has ever seen. The strength, the gentleness, the competence with which they folded and kneaded, then with swift, short turns tucked the dough into a boule to add to the nearly filled board behind him. Jaskier isn’t the only one watching. The man, whether it be what Jaskier sees or the smell of his already-baked loaves, has drawn a crowd. (And he really does suspect it is a mixture of both. No one should look so good with the sweaty, unwashed Rendezvous look. Most people look as you might expect after a week-long historical camping trip. This man looks like a rugged wet dream.) Even as Jaskier looks, the baker slices the top of the dough with a slender knife frankly dwarfed in his grip, settles the boule on the board, and with a sharp flick of his elbow slides the whole dozen of them into the mouth of the clay dome oven radiating heat at his back. Even presented with the man’s astonishing back (and astonishing backside, lord, blessed be the fall-front trousers)--even then, Jaskier finds he can’t stop staring at his forearms, revealed by his rolled shirtsleeves. “Oh, you’ve got it bad,” Essi murmurs, and laughs when he jumps. “Well, go on. Go buy your bread and flirt with him. I’m going to get chowder from the fish and chip tent.” “But- Essi,” Jaskier flounders, “we, it- the performance!” They had planned to spend the last couple hours of morning trolling the main drag and the surrounding lines of tents and stalls, singing and playing, he on accordion and she the violin. They even have a couple new bits he is dying to run through. Jaskier thinks of his wallet and all the tips they might be making even now and whines. That being said, his eyes draw back to the dimple along the muscle of the baker’s forearm without his permission. Essi pats his back mockingly. “Frankly, my dear, I refuse to perform with you like this.” “Excuse me! Like what?” She doesn’t deign answer. Instead, with a wink, she steps back into the crowd, calling, “I’ll meet you at the Live Oak Stage for the noontime performances!” and leaves him there. Which is also when Jaskier hears the first keening notes of a familiar song. He already knows he is ruined before turns to take in the scene-- the baker with the fiddle pressed under his chin, the bow so delicate in his blunt-fingered hand that Jaskier’s heart leapt into his throat. The angle of his wrist, the tilt of his brows-- then he glances up through unexpectedly dark lashes and his amber eyes flash golden in the light. “Oh, Jesus wept.” *

As it would turn out, the handsome baker’s name is Geralt, and his rendition of Tiersen’s sur le fil is so beautiful that Jaskier can’t help but draw closer, like a moth to flame.

As it also turns out, the baker whose name is Geralt lowers the well-worn but immaculately tuned fiddle after the one song, allowing Jaskier to step close enough to embarrass himself. He gets half way through a too-long ramble about Tiersen’s works and praise for the man’s performance, and I’m a musician myself, can’t often be convinced to pick up a fiddle but-- when the baker grunts, points to the not-exactly historically accurate but not-not period appropriate accordion in his hands and asks, “Do you know La Noyée?” Which is how they end up playing together for the next thirty minutes until the bread has baked.

Which is also when Geralt introduces himself and gruffly thanks him, mentioning how his assistant usually accompanies him but he gave her the morning off, and then pays him in bread with a healthy slab of butter and aged cheese on top. Jaskier learns quickly that he is a man of few words. Somehow, however, he can read the sincerity in his thanks in his minute expression. They had drawn in quite a crowd, and Geralt is quickly made busy on the next batch of orders.

Jaskier knows when his presence is in the way. He is a little sad to go, but still, he knows he will be buzzing with the energy of their performance and the electric current that had passed between them every time Geralt glanced his way to time his accompaniment or signal a flourish. That can be enough. “Well, it’s been- ah, absolutely lovely playing with you, dear Geralt, but it seems I will only be in the way from this point- can’t bake to save my life, I’m afraid-” as he begins to slip away.

“Bard.” Jaskier freezes, surprised. Geralt cleans his hands off on his equally floury apron and pulls a tiny folded up pamphlet from inside its deep pocket. Jaskier takes it without thinking, on autopilot. “I’m part of a demonstration around 2, over at the fencing pit next to the musket range.” Jaskier can’t be blamed for how long it takes his brain to catch up with the unspoken invitation; but when he does, he beams.

He goes, and is promptly bowled over to find Geralt changed from his frankly too-flattering baker’s smock and fall-fronts into the traditional kilt and shirt sleeves of a highland foot soldier-- sans coat. Jaskier sees why when he lunges forward into a fast-paced mock battle with a broad sword that he slings about as if it were light as a rapier. Jaskier is... he needs to sit down.

He spends the rest of the weekend finding every excuse he can to go visit Geralt the too-handsome baker, and gets to meet his apprentice, who is also his daughter. Jaskier is stricken dumb for all of two seconds before he realizes they get on like a house on fire. Geralt has to chase them off when their chatter on historic social norms, musical trends, and current pop stars gets to be too much. Then they both have lunch with Essi, and the conversation turns to hsitoric fashion, materials, and ends with the two ladies roasting his poor man dandy outfit alive. He stands up for himself nobly. The high waisted trousers make him look trim! And braces were designed in the early 1820s, just like the accordion, thank you! Yes, he DOES know that it is considered terribly risque for his braces to be visible and not worn beneath a coat, why do they think he did it? No, he doesn’t think that they clash with his silk cravat in the least! He might be a rake and a rogue but he is still cultured. And well bathed, unlike most of the brutes around here! Essi calls him a floozy; Ciri, 16 and the least shy girl he has ever met, agrees. (He loves the two of them all the more by the end of it.)

Jaskier plays with Geralt a couple more times, after Essi gives him her blessing. She had found a bluegrass group in desperate need of a violinist after theirs abruptly came down ill, and she is more than happy to flirt with their cellist there, especially since they pop up stage in the middle of the Rendyvoo garners huge crowds of tip-happy listeners. She does chat with Ciri when she stops by, however, and Geralt. Jaskier doesn’t hear what happens, but she manages to get the big man to flush. Jaskier wonders on it for the rest of the day. Will she reveal her secrets??

The Voo ends and Jaskier is a besotted wreck. He tries quite hard to make his goodbye to father and daughter not the least bit tearful-- and immediately fails when Geralt pulls out a smartphone and gruffly tells him to put his number in.

They live much closer than they might have assumed. I can’t decide if Geralt really does own a bakery, or if that’s just his somewhat secret hobby and in reality his profession better matches his dangerous strongman persona-- a garage, a historic fencing and swordplay gym, perhaps a high-paid security professional. All of them have some interesting possibilities, I’ll be honest. Regardless, working Rendezvous’s and ren faires is half hobby half side-profession. Jaskier is thrilled to find that, since moving to the area recently, he and Geralt will be working a lot of the same events. He is excited a completely normal amount.

Y’all know what’s up. Wooing. Courting. Two idiots who don’t recognize their emotions (because, yes, Jaskier might have realized Geralt is a looker, but it takes him much longer to realize what the fuzzy feeling in his gut is whenever Geralt is particularly soft, or speaks gently to his daughter, or smile when their huge great dane comes barreling out to greet them and oh, no.) Also, historic costumes that just, they just really inspire some thirst.

If y’all think for a moment Geralt looks any less handsome in modern clothes, you are surely mistaken. Jaskier despairs the first time he sees him. It’s just... it’s not fair!

Except the local ren faire comes around and it’s Geralt’s turn to despair. He may, in fact, never recover. Y’all know that post that’s been going around...

ok fin. that’s all i got, i hope yall enjoyed.

#the witcher #fanfic #geraskier #taran writes #historical reenactment AU #yes there was a real baker who was real handsome #he pulled out the accordion and his assistant the fiddle and played a yann tiersen song i can't remember the name of but recognize every tim #and my gay little heart went OH #do i want to be you or are you just fantastic?#jokes on you baby taran #the answer was both

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navalcriminalimagines · 3 years

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Pairings: Rafael Barba x Reader, Harvey Specter x Reader

Part 1, Part 2

Baker - 3

December 1996

You froze when you heard his voice. Unable to move, you didn’t even turn your face to look at him. You knew that Harvey felt you tensing from the way he was looking at you. It felt like he could see what happened two months before, or at least, see that something did happened. But he didn’t pull away. Harvey kept his arm in place as he greeted Rafael with a hand gesture and a smile. You, on the other hand, briefly looked at the older man and let out a small ‘hey’.

God, was he growing a beard? Even in the second you looked at him, you saw the hair on his cheeks and chin. He mustn’t have shaved in a few days, and he looked even more handsome. He made him look even older and sexier.

Fuck, you couldn’t feel turn on right now. This situation was way too awkward.

“It’s been a while since you were here,” Rafael said to Harvey, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Yeah, Y/N and I had a rough time but it’s all good now.”

“It’ll be all good, if I say it’s all good.” AJ answered, finishing his beer.

“I’m not a child anymore, AJ.” You found your voice again. “I date who I want, when I want.”

“You two are—dating?” Rafael struggled to ask. The word ‘dating’ felt wrong in his throat since he was talking about you and Harvey.

“Yes. Very recent though.” Harvey said.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you, Harvey Specter, are coming upstairs with us.”

You had enough. AJ’s protectiveness was unbearable. You were tired of him treating you like a kid. “No, he’s not.” You stood up to face your brother. “I’m old enough to do what the hell I want. I don’t need your approval, dad’s and most certainly not Rafael’s.”

“One word.” AJ switched his gaze to Harvey. “Julie.”

Confused, you looked at Harvey. You knew who Julie was, she was a girl from school, the same age as you and Harvey. You also knew that AJ dated her older sister in high school, before he realized that girls weren’t his thing. As far as you knew, he and his ex-girlfriend stayed on good terms, they were probably still friends. “It’s different.” Harvey said, standing up too.

“Different? How many of them has it been, Specter?” AJ paused for effect but no one spoke. “You are not putting my sister on your hunting board.”

Before anyone could say something, your mother appeared in the basement. “We’re not having dinner in the basement, kids.” She said, “Rafi, Yelina is here.”

Fuck me, you thought. This night was going to be a real nightmare and you had to wake up at 3 in the morning to go to the bakery. Maybe you should have called it a night right now and ended this before it even started. But all you did was to follow everyone back in the living room.

“Is this serious?” Rafael whispered to your ear, as he was walking behind you. You felt his body heat, you even felt how tense he was. But you couldn’t answer his question since you reached the top floor and Yelina rushed to him. All you could do was to shoot him a glare.

Why did he have to come here tonight? And why did he bring Yelina? It felt like he was twisting the knife in and it just hurt. Honestly, you were thankful for Harvey’s presence. And whatever his little show was in the basement, a part of you was kinda glad that it made Rafael react. You didn’t know if it was jealousy - why would it be? - or just protection like your brother, but it did something to him. And if you had to go through a dinner with Yelina all over him, he’d have to go through with you and Harvey being what you’ve been since fourth grade: friends with no boundaries.

“Since y’all will have Christmas in your own families, we thought it would be nice to have this dinner in advance.” Your dad said as he was pouring scotch for him, AJ and Rafael. Your mother and Yelina had a glass of wine.

“Can Harvey and I have a beer?” You asked, and your parents looked at each other for a moment.

“Just one.” Your father said and you were already on your feet, grabbing two beers.

“Thanks,” Harvey softly smiled at him when you put the bottle in front of him.

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered in his ear as you wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“Felt like you needed it.” He whispered back. “And maybe you’ll see that I can be boyfriend material.”

“Easy on the PDA, kiddos.” Your dad warned and you let go of Harvey. You didn’t care about provoking your brother, but with your father, it was a different story. After all, you were a daddy’s little girl from the minute you were born.

You were sitting between Harvey and your brother, across from Rafael and Yelina, while your parents were on each side of the table. The first half of dinner went okay, you tried to avoid looking at Rafael as much as possible, and luckily they weren’t talking about the wedding for now. There were lawyer talks - of course, when three of you were, and Harvey inspired to be one too -, they talked about Yelina’s job too - not that you cared one bit.

“What about you, Y/N?” Yelina asked, out of the blue. “Your brother said you didn’t know what you wanted to do.”

“Actually, this may have changed,” your father answered, looking at you with a smile and you felt that all eyes were on you.

“I’m thinking about going to baking school,” you said, taking a quick look at Rafael. “Culinary Institute of America,” you told everyone. “And to be sure that’s what I want to do, I’m starting at a bakery tomorrow. 4am, so after this, I’m off to bed.”

You felt your brother’s arms around your shoulders and he kissed your temple. “If that’s what you want to do, I have no doubt you’ll succeed,” he said, not letting you go. You looked at Rafael again and he was smiling big. You didn’t know what was going on in his mind, but you returned his smile anyway. He grabbed his glass, extending it to you. Taking the hint, you grabbed your beer - you managed to get a second one for you and Harvey - and clinked your bottle with his glass. “If you need a Guinea pig, I’m your man.” He said, without thinking.

“Easy,” Yelina spoke. “I don’t want you to get fat.”

“Treating yourself doesn’t mean you’re going to gain weight. Pastries aren’t just fat and sugar. Plus, a few pounds would suit Rafi.” You looked at him. “You’re skinny.” You said, showing your pinky finger for comparison. Rafael snorted with a smile and took another sip. At least, it got Yelina to shut up.

“The cake in the fridge—you made it?” AJ asked.

“Yup. This morning, with Harvey.”

“How about we eat it now?” Your mother offered. “You need to get up earlier.”

You went to the kitchen with her, taking the cake out of the fridge and getting some plates. A few seconds later, Rafael was entering the kitchen, dirty dishes in his hands. He put them in the sink before turning over to you and your mother. “Need a hand?” He offered. There was some last minute prep for the cake to be completely ready.

“I’m gonna get these plates to the table,” your mother said. “why don't you help Y/N with whatever she’s doing?” And she disappeared.

“I got it, you can go back there.”

“Harvey—is it serious? Since when have you been dating him?”

“I don’t think it’s any of your business. Not after—“

“You’re right. I’m sorry about—the kiss. It should’ve never happened. But since you’re dating him—we’re good?”

“Yup. Very good. I’m dating Harvey, you’re getting married in February. All good.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He just said.

You stopped what you were doing to look at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He answered. “I’m glad you didn’t get any ideas because of—it.” He really was twisting the knife in.

“Why would I? It happens all the time, sticking your tongue in someone’s month for no reason. Especially when one is engaged. Doesn’t mean anything.” You couldn’t hold back the sarcasm. Luckily, the cake was entirely done, so you grabbed it and walked out of the kitchen.

Pissed off, it was easier for you to call it a night and leave them. Harvey briefly joined you upstairs to wish you good night, telling you that you were going to kill it at the bakery. Before he walked out of your bedroom, you grabbed his hand to make him spin around. He was facing you and you closed the distance, crashing your lips on his. It was awkward, you weren’t sure of what you were doing - and you knew you were doing it for the wrong reasons. He kissed you back for a short moment, before pulling away. “I’m dying to.” He said, his forehead pressed against yours. “But it’s happening for the wrong reasons right now. I want you to kiss me because you want to.”

“I do want to.” You blurted.

“But you want him more.” He whispered and you looked at the floor. He kissed your forehead and walked away, leaving with just your thoughts and inappropriate feelings.

* * * * *

You were loving working at the bakery. The chef you were working with was amazing, teaching you as much as possible, letting you do stuff a newbie probably shouldn’t be doing. “I find it hard to believe you started baking just two months ago.” He told you and you felt extremely proud.

The rhythm was exhausting. Waking up at 3 in the morning, sometimes even earlier, it wasn’t something you were used to. As soon as you got home in the afternoon, you immediately fell on your bed and napped. You didn’t see Harvey, or your brother or Rafael in a whole week. You were only focusing on work and you were thankful for it. You wanted to forget about this shitty situation.

You spent Christmas with your parents and your brother. It wasn’t anything fancy. Your mother made you all wear Christmas onesies like every year, and your boss offered you a cake you basically baked by yourself to eat with your family - you thought he would put it on sale, but you missed the decorations, so he explained that he couldn’t put it upfront. “You’re learning, don’t beat yourself up. You can’t do everything perfectly on your first try.” He said when he noticed your frustration.

On New Year’s Eve, you were going to your father’s - and your brother’s now - law firm’s party. You went every year. But it was different this time. AJ said he would bring a date. His homosexuality hasn’t been a secret in a long time for you, your family or his close friends, but you were surprised he was bringing someone to that party. He had been bullied in college because he liked men, and he didn’t want it to be repeated in his work place. “Mum convinced me to.” He told you, as he was using your bathroom to get ready. “I guess they are pros in being the boss’ son.” He joked, trying to tame his hair.

“You know that if I hear anything inappropriate, I’ll kick their asses like I used to kick yours.” You said, finishing your makeup. You don't wear makeup on daily basis, but you love doing it for special occasions. You were for pastel colors on your eyes with some eyeliner, and you planned on putting your favorite lipstick. Cherry color, the one Rafael said suits you.

You were wearing a long purple dress, revealing too much of your chest according to AJ's - not that you cared. High heels made you taller, you were almost at your brother's height.

“I let you. You were so tiny and desperate to win.” He defended himself.

“What about when I knocked you out so bad, you stayed on the floor for ten minutes?”

“Rafi helped you!” He exclaimed, “he was holding my arms! And you kicked me in the nuts!” You laughed at the memory. Everything was accurate and you remembered how AJ threatened you to drop you off in foster care and how Rafael told you he would take you with him if your brother ever did that.

“Speaking off Rafi,” here it goes. You took a deep breath, waiting for your brother to say whatever he had to. “He’ll be there tonight, without Yelina. She wants to celebrate with her friends. And since Harvey isn’t coming either, maybe you and Raf can be each other’s date.”

You looked at your brother through the mirror, with widen eyes. “What? Why would we do that?”

“Because he’ll look better with someone at his arm. He’s a lawyer, he’s going to network tonight.” He explained, like it was perfectly normal for you to be Rafael's date.

“Even if that someone is the boss’ seventeen years old daughter?”

“Especially with that someone. But for tonight, you’re officially eighteen.”

“I feel like you just tricked me.” You sighed, finding hard to concentrate on your makeup.

“Maybe I did. In my defense, I told Rafi to ask you himself, but he thought it was a bad idea.” His hair was finally done, he grabbed his cologne and put some on him, intoxicating the entire bathroom.

“He has a point.” You said, grabbing the cologne from his hand so he would stop spraying.

“Just do it, it’ll be good for his career, okay?”

“Sure, 'cause dad is going to love seeing me being a fake date to your best friend.”

“It was his idea when I told him Yelina wasn’t coming.”

This was getting worse and worse by seconds. “You guys are the worst.”

“What’s wrong with you? A handsome man like Rafael is going to be your date.” He stopped by the doorway and looked at your dress again. "Don't you have a shawl or something to put on your shoulders?" Meaning: cover your skin.

You ignored his last comment. “Why isn’t he your date?”

“Because I already have one, that I really like. And mum and you better not play good cop, bad cop with Mike.”

“We would never!”

“Kyle!” He shouted as he left your bedroom. You did do that the first time you met his ex-boyfriend. Funny enough, you were the bad cop and your mother was the good cop. Maybe you should cut AJ some slacks when he’s being overprotective with you, because you are basically doing the same with him. Maybe it’s a trait of character you both had for your father.

As you finished doing your hair, you looked at yourself in the mirror and summed up. You were going to the Law Firm’s New Year Eve’s party. Harvey had plans with some other friends and Yelina didn’t want to come.

So now, you were supposed to act as Rafael’s date. Which was your father’s idea. Totally makes sense.

Or not. Nothing makes fucking sense.

#law and order svu #rafael barba #rafael barba imagine #svu imagine #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba fic #rafael barba fanfiction #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter imagines #harvey specter fanfic #svu x suits crossover?#if you think you know Mike #maybe you do :)

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marsrize · 2 years

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Marinette (Félix) Dupain-Cheng

Warning : Maribat, Marinette x Damian (in some way), Félix x Damian (in some way)

Felix is a crime emperor. He dies at the hands of his cousin Adrien Agreste, a police officer who has come to avenge the death of his parents whom Felix had eliminated.

Marinette dies protecting the man she loved: Damian aka Robin. It was a one-way love. She was young and only 15 years old.

Félix at his death finds himself in front of the purgatory. At the same time, he sees Marinette also in Purgatory who is supposed to have gone to heaven for saving someone's life. However, Marinette asks to stay in Purgatory, her reason? She is angry that she died protecting someone who did not deserve it. However, the judge of Purgatory is formal: she must go to Heaven.

The judge sees Felix. He smiles. Felix understands that he is not going to like what comes next. The purgatory judge decides to give Felix a second chance at life. To do this, he must accomplish what Marinette had failed to do in her previous life.

Marinette is skeptical at first, but when she hears that Felix was a crime emperor, she agrees. She wants three things:

1- To become a heroine who equals Batman.

2- Have a serious relationship with someone.

3- Become a famous fashion designer.

Felix clearly wants to scream. Him? Becoming a HERO?

Marinette thanks him and goes happily to heaven. Félix says he refuses this masquerade. The judge tells him that if he does things right, he will also go to heaven and avoid hell, but if he doesn't succeed in accomplishing his 3 missions, then his soul will be tortured for eternity.

- Beginning of the mission -

The judge sends Felix back to earth.

So that he is not disadvantaged, the purgatory judge grants him two gifts: Marinette's complete memory until her death, and then, he sends him back to earth the day Marinette and her parents move to Gotham.

Looking into Marinette's memory, he learned several interesting things.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng looks strangely like Bridgette Chang, the girl who harassed him in high school. Felix finds out that this Marinette is the daughter of a baker couple. They live in Gotham, and she goes to a high school called Gotham Academy. Marinette was also a vigilante. She used the code name "Sparrow". Felix knew that this "Marinette" had suffered an accident while doing her vigilante activities. This accident was covered up. Officially she had been hit by a car.

Felix assumed that the real "Marinette" had died, probably at the same time as him. He knows that she is a girl who is bullied at school by daddy's girls. Felix also knows that she has a big crush on the “mysterious handsome guy” in her class, a certain "Damian Wayne". If he wasn't aware that he was wide awake, he could tell that this "Marinette" was a Light Novel heroine.

Felix will need some time to adjust to his new body. He may be in a girl's body, but he had been a boy all his life before. He had to learn to "become a girl".

The only excuse he had for Marinette's parents' strange behavior was that he was just not familiar with his new surroundings.

Felix isn't happy with the life he leads. At least the body he has possessed, has some qualities:

- She' s an excellent designer

- She has a perfect talent for painting.

- She has the ability to sew.

- She knew how to do handicrafts.

- Good student.

- No friends (Yes, it was a quality in Felix's eyes, at least he wasn't going to have to pretend to like people or be sociable.)

It is very far from the abilities that he possessed in his previous life, however, with the abilities that he possessed now, it would be enough to start a new life.

The most important point for Felix, was that he had these three stupid missions to accomplish. And the problem was this, according to Marinette's memory, she was not accepted by the local "heroes". Especially Robin who was mean to her. Batman had already chased her away more than once, telling her that she wasn't fit to be in the field with them.

Felix agreed.

However, he was also curious as to why Marinette was so keen to become a hero. He didn't have access to that part of the girl's memory.

He had no desire to become a hero. On the other hand, he had no desire to prove this guy, who looked suspiciously like Knight Owl, right.

Felix ended up making 3 decisions:

- He will become a hero who equals Batman, to better stab him in the back later. (There was no need for him to remain a hero once the goal was achieved.)

- He decided that Damian Wayne would be his prey. He had to make him fall in love with him and then reject him. (It was fun, right? To be able to give that brat a little taste of his own medicine?)

- The easy part: becoming a fashion designer.

A smirk appeared on his face.

"Well... It's time to start the show."

Of course, nothing will go as planned.

#maribat fic #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat félix #miraculous x dc #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #mlb x batman #maribat prompt

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rywritten · 2 years

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Bartender!Dream x Baker!Techno? 👀

(this was initially going to be really poetic with an atmospheric vibe going on, but then my lizard brain was like: nah, make it crack and have them bicker the entire time.

also, it was pretty hard to incorporate Baker!Techno into the story due to the scene i was writing, so i had to make it a bit vague.. so yeah, i hope this is still your cup of tea anon!)

In all of Dream's three years of experience serving as a bartender, he's never met a man quite like his current customer.

Now, he's dealt with the typical drunks who would either talk to him in gibberish or say nothing at all – too out of it to really form any words, then there's the self entitled pricks who would demand far too much from him and still find something to complain about. Hell, he's even had his fair share of grabby perverts with their sleezy smiles and wandering hands, but not once has he ever had the misfortune of dealing with the growing headache who has introduced himself as "the blood god."

The blood god, who's still surprisingly stone cold sobber even after the late hours of the evening, walked into the bar counter with only one order in mind, and out of all the drinks one would request at such a high end place, he had requested Dream for the impossible.

"I'm sorry, but did you just say you wanted a tall glass of Kool-Aid?"

"Yea."

"What?"

The blood god's frowning at him now, looking at Dream as if he was the one being weird.

"Don't you know what that is?" He asked slowly like he's talking to a child. "It's blood red, artificially sweet, probably made up of pixie dust."

"I know what a Kool-Aid is, sir."

"Then hop to it." He makes a shooing motion at Dream and there's a smirk on his lips like he knows just how frustrating he's being. "I want it to give me heartburn as soon as the first drop hits my tongue."

"I'm afraid we don't have any Kool-Aid available at the moment."

The blood god makes a face at him and he lets out an audible gasp, sounding far too dramatic to be real. "What kind of bar are you running here?"

A normal kind. Dream wanted to answer him, maybe even punch the smirk right out of his stupidly handsome face.

But he can't.

Their boss had given him his second warning two hours before they opened.

"Don't pick a fight with any of the customers." Wilbur had specifically told him with a warning glare and Dream was forced to agree, unless he wants to kiss his chances of a stable income goodbye.

"Would you prefer ordering anything else?" Dream forced himself to smile, showcasing his best customer service voice.

The blood god paused, thinking on the suggestion as if there weren't any other customers waiting, completely unbothered.

"Do you have any Fruitopia?"

There's a look of sick amusement on the guy's face when Dream answered his question with an exasperated no, and as Dream proceeded to turn down all the other specifically labelled 90's kids drink the guy kept asking for, the more he's convinced that the sick fuck was messing with him.

"We only serve alcohol here, sir." Dream had to explain calmly, willing his nerves to settle, least he does something he'll regret later on, like possibly punching a customer in the face.

"Really? I had no idea." The blood god replied in mock surprise.

"Look man, I don't know why you decided to come here tonight, but if your only goal is to piss me off, I swear I'll–"

Dream pauses mid rant when heard the guy snort.

"I knew you'd catch on eventually." He teased, clearly amused by the annoyed glare Dream was giving him.

"Why?"

The guy opens his mouth, about to answer his question, but stops when Wilbur all but tackles him to the ground.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Dream's boss was practically shaking the guy by the collar of his shirt, clearly annoyed. "I was looking everywhere for you."

"Well, I specifically remember telling you that I never wanted to come."

"So you retaliate by harassing my staff?"

"Yes."

"You're a fucking menace, Techno."

The blood god–Techno–smiles at Wilbur's words, obviously happy to have given the other man a hard time.

"I'll kill you." Dream heard Wilbur muttering under his breath. "And no one would be able to find your body."

"You wouldn't do that to your one and only older brother." Techno answered him with surety. "You love me too much."

"Just get your ass over to the second floor." Wilbur tells him tiredly. "Everyone's waiting for you."

"What can I say, I'm the life of the party." He smiles and turns to go, but not before turning to Dream with a knowing smirk. "I'll see you later, Dream." Techno drawls, reading the name from Dream's tag.

The man places a cheque on top of the counter and slides it towards Dream. "For all the trouble." He adds with a wink, giving Dream a two finger salute before heading off to follow his brother.

Dream watches him go in equal parts relief and confusion. He turns to his co-worker as soon as Techno and Wilbur's figure disappear from view and heaves out a sigh.

"Who even was that guy?"

"Dude, that was Technoblade." Punz all but shouts at him, exasperated by Dream's complete ignorance.

Dream only looks at him in confusion.

"That one world renowned chef? Practically a prodigy? A living legend? They based a movie off of him? He's our boss's brother for fuck's sake."

Punz listed out a few more titles but Dream didn't really care.

Techno had decided to mess with him tonight and Dream wasn't one to forgive so easily, even when said menace decided to give him a tip as a token of apology.

Speaking of tips, Dream finally took his time to read the cheque Techo had given, and as soon as his eyes lands on the amount, he nearly passes out by the sheer number of zeros.

"No way in hell." Dream whispered to himself as he reread the cheque again and still seeing the same amount.

"He probably likes you." Dream heard Punz saying over his shoulder. "This is the first time I've ever seen him talk to any of the staff."

#ry.quests #anon #dreamnoblade #dnb #dreamwastaken #technoblade #this got way out of hand #i had to put a line break #i hope you liked it anon #i certainly had a lot of fun #techno would definitely be the type to say blood red just to be obnoxious

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wolfstarlibrarian · 3 years

Note

Hey Librarian!

Any modern AUs?

Oh goodness. The Librarian has gotten this ask many, many times and it’s a valid question! However, it is so broad that it’s impossible to make just one list?

All that said, here are a few modern AUs that the Librarian loves but maybe hasn’t listed as often as the ones on their favorites list. Please know that this list is incomplete, so check out the other modern lists below the cut!

Wolfstar Modern AUs: B side

Ever Thus by @wolfstarting “Right, well I’d say it’s about time to put an end to this nonsense, wouldn’t you?” James nodded sagely. “You’ve obviously still got some things to chat through with him, but he will talk to you about it, Remus. He thinks the world of you, you know that. But the important thing is that you do talk because nothing’s going to get sorted if you just sit cry-wanking in your room.” The world is excruciating and enthralling in equal measure. The gang try their hardest to navigate it as real, legitimate adults.

Déjà Vu by @remus-john-lupin Sirius swears he’s seen this guy before, and he’s dying to figure it out.

A Promise by @kattlupin Remus Lupin and Sirius Black are two strangers both seeking solace in solo trips to Paris. Strangers that is, until happenstance sits them together on a plane and their solo trips turn into a romantic adventure together.

Chocolate Cake part of the Just Desserts series by @theprongsletthatlived “Yes, Remus Lupin is gorgeous, smart, funny, and hands down the best lay Sirius has ever had. Sometimes, Sirius just can’t get enough of him—of his plump mouth or the sweetness that seems to radiate out of his pores. He’ll even admit that he does prefer Remus’ company to anyone else’s ninety percent of the time. But—just because your favorite dessert is chocolate cake doesn’t mean you’ll never crave a cookie, right?”

Lost to You Yourself by OfALaurel Sirius Black writes gay porn for a skin mag, and meets Remus Lupin, who does professional readings (audio recordings) of his fictions, and there is flirting, and courting, and love over narratives, cds, and fictionality.

Something Beautiful -orphaned account When Remus Lupin's ex talks him into a drunken tattoo mistake, he goes to his friend and co-worker Lily for help. Luckily her husband's best mate is a tattoo artist who can help with the cover up. Unfortunately for Remus, the tattoo in in a rather compromising area, and he'll have to get over his embarrassment. Luckily for him, Sirius Black is just the man for the job.

There is a Light That Never Goes Out by WolfstarGarden Sirius’ breath puffed a warm tickle around his ear. “You’re gorgeous... I want to take you out, somewhere nice, away from Prongs and Evans. Can I?” Remus opened his mouth, but the yes he had intended instead came out, “Why?”

The Barista, the Burglar, and the Sofa by SeasOfTrees This is the story of twenty-three year old Remus Lupin, an overworked graduate student and underpaid barista, who comes home one day to find an exceptionally attractive man has broken into his flat. Given the neighborhood he lives in, that isn’t a huge surprise. He is surprised, though, when the burglar comes back with a sofa. Alternatively, this is the story of how Sirius Black tries to seduce a man by slowly furnishing his flat.

here's to never growing up by @elixirsoflife A group chat documents the lives of four highly dramatic teenage boys as they navigate their A Levels. Or, like, die trying.

where are we now? by @miraxb

Sirius meets a familiar stranger while visiting Berlin. Everything is different. Everything is the same.

I Am A Mess Around You by @littlemissbennet Modern Setting AU - Remus finds out that a hot, beautiful man just moved into his building. But for some reason, every time they meet a disaster strikes and Remus makes a complete fool of himself. Why can't he act like a sensible person around this handsome young man?

Liebestraum by @quoththethestral

“Do you still have a lot of friends in the area, then?” “None,” Remus answered simply, which felt much easier than explaining at the level of detail that the question actually deserved.

Of Bookshelves and Baby Carriers by @poppunkpadfoot The customer standing in front of him is quite possibly the most beautiful man Remus has ever seen. Like, he looks like a model or something. He has long, black hair, flattened by water, and just the slightest amount of scruff on his face, and… And a baby strapped to his chest. Okay.

Cut Your Bangs part at the Introduction series by @notmycatsname "There’s something about him that catches Sirius’s eye. His voice is a little whiny, almost off-key. Sirius has heard it time and time again in the bands that Lily plays through their speakers at their apartment but it sounds more genuine, almost heart breaking, through his voice. Remus’s voice."

Saving Regulus Black by @toyhto A story in which Remus Lupin meets a dark handsome stranger and they go for a road trip to rescue one little brother who’s probably up to something bad.

We Will Fill the Cracks Together by newskyillusion Remus works in a library and at his parents pub in a small, Welsh town. Sirius Black is doing his PhD on werewolves and comes to a small, Welsh town to do some research.

Find all the previous lists that feature wolfstar in a modern AU below!

The Librarian’s 12 Favorite Fics

Alternate Universe

Accountants + Finance

Athletes

Babysitter Remus

Baking/Bakers

Bartender

Bookshop

Cafes + Artists

Camping + Roadtrips

Coffee Shop

Cooking/Chefs

Dancer

Dating Apps

Hairdressers

High School

Legal/Courtroom fics (Non-magical)

Library

Model

Movie RomComs

Muggle MWPP

Musician/Band

Science Focused Fics

Skateboarding Remus

Social Media

Subway, Underground & Tube

Tattoo Shop

Tech workers/Programmers

Texting Fics 1

Texting Fics 2

Tumblr Mutuals to Lovers

University/College

Video Games

Writers + Authors

Mood/Theme

Fluff 3: Modern AU

Tropes

Famous Sirius or Remus

Neighbors

If you need more just send an ask or check out the Card Catalogue!

#modern #wolfstar #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders

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starks-hero · 4 years

Text

Meet the Parents

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Summary: Whilst visiting 221B, you finally get the chance to meet Sherlock's parents. Embarrassment ensues.

Word Count: 1,400

Warnings: none :)

The sky had already darkened with the promise of rain, the first few droplets prompting you to pick up your pace as you headed home to Baker Street.

It had been a long day. Work had been even more tiresome than usual and as if that wasn't bad enough, you'd missed your bus home. You didn't mind walking, but the weather certainly didn't help. At this point, you wanted nothing more than to be back at the flat with Sherlock.

You smiled as you reached the steps of the familiar black door, your cold fingers fumbling for the right key. When you stepped inside, you sighed in relief as the warmth of the flat enveloped you.

It felt good to finally be home after such a hellish day. Pulling off your coat and hat, you quickly made your way upstairs.

“Sherlock, I'm home,” you called as you opened the door and stepped into the flat, expecting Sherlock to either be in the kitchen tinkering with an experiment or locked away in his mind palace. However, you were met with a very different sight.

An elderly man and woman sat on the sofa, whilst Sherlock stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed. A look of fear seemed to cross his face as his eyes shifted from you to the couple.

“I'm sorry,” you apologized, feeling a bit intrusive and more than a little embarrassed. “I didn't realize you had guests, I'll just-”

“No, no, join us, my dear!” The woman smiled, standing from her seat. “You must be Y/N.” She grinned, taking your hand in her own.

“Yes.” You smiled back, not wanting to appear rude and doing your best to mask your confusion. You had absolutely no idea who these people were. They clearly weren't clients, and it wasn't like Sherlock to have guests over.

“It's nice to finally meet you, dear. I was beginning to think Sherlock had just made you up to keep me happy!” she gushed. Your cheeks began to heat as you connected the dots.

“That's enough!” Sherlock hurried as he made his way between you and who you could only presume was his mother.

“Oh, William, let me talk to the girl, will you?”

You did your best to stifle your laughter. “William?” you asked, a look of horror spreading over Sherlock's features. You never would have guessed that Sherlock Holmes real name was William. Sherlock cringed, knowing full well that you’d use his first name against him now that you knew it. He shot you a betrayed look as his mother pushed him aside.

“Oh yes,” Mrs Holmes continued. “Our boy always did prefer his middle name. I never understood why. After all, William is such a handsome name!”

“Mother,” Sherlock interjected with a warning tone.

“It's nice to finally meet you,” you said, doing your best to make a good first impression. The terror of meeting your boyfriend's parents for the first time had just begun to set in, but you were doing a wonderful job at hiding it behind a polite smile.

“Oh, the pleasure is all ours, dear!” You felt your chest swell with happiness as your grin widened. Sherlock's mother was easily the most endearing woman you'd ever met and she was certainly making you feel welcomed into the Holmes family.

Sherlock, however, didn't seem to be mirroring your excitement. He clawed his way in between you both and gently pushed you behind him, almost as if he was attempting to shield you from his mother's affection.

“Isn't it time you were both leaving?”

Mrs Holmes blatantly ignored her son, simply stepping around him to continue speaking to you. Sherlock groaned, throwing his hands in the air like an embarrassed teenager.

“Our Sherlock has always been so distant so you must be truly special to have won him over. Isn't that right, love?” she continued, turning to her husband.

For the first time since you'd met him, you witnessed Sherlock's face turn red as his father was dragged into the utter mess that was taking place in front of him.

“Don't you both have another son to bother?” Sherlock sounded positively livid. His parents didn't pay him any attention and instead continued their conversation with you.

“Oh yes,” Sherlock's father smiled, greeting you from behind his wife. “And what a lovely young lady you are too.” At that moment you concluded that Mr and Mrs Homes were the nicest people you had ever met. Sherlock had some serious explaining to do.

“Here's the door in case you were having trouble finding it,” Sherlock snarked, opening the door and gesturing for his parents to leave.

Mrs Holmes swatted away her son's hand. “Oh, do have some decency, Sherlock. We've only just met the girl,” she warned with a hint of authority in her tone. “Besides we have so much to talk about.”

Sherlock turned to you, his expression screaming ‘whose side are you on?!’ You just offered a bemused smirk in response.

“My dear, you must come to visit us sometime, we've been asking Sherlock for weeks now but I'm sure you know how he is,” Mr Holmes smiled.

“Trust me, I know exactly how he is,” you muttered, drawing quaint laughs from both Sherlock's parents.

“Besides,” Sherlock's mother cut in. “The estate would be such a lovely place for the wedding.”

Your body grew rigid at her words and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. Sherlock momentarily stopped his sulking to mirror your fear.

“The- the wedding?” you managed, a nervous tremor in your voice.

“Alright, that's enough.” Sherlock began to guide his parents towards the door, desperate for the torturous conversation to end.

“I'm getting old, Sherlock. I'd like some grandchildren before I die.”

“Out!”

Sherlock had just managed to push the couple past the threshold before trying to slam the door shut. But a persistent foot wedged in the doorway prevented his efforts.

“Sherlock, bring the girl around soon, won't you? You know how your mother worries.”

Sherlock huffed at his father's request.

“Yes, alright, now get out.”

His second attempt to close the door was stopped by his mother's voice.

“Promise?”

He knew he couldn't say no, not to his mother of all people. After sparing a glance back to you, Sherlock nodded, offering his mother an almost unnoticeable smile.

“Promise.”

He didn't wait to see the look of delight on his mother's face and instead immediately closed the door, locking it for good measure. He let his back hit the wood, slumping down and sighing in relief.

He relished in a few seconds of peace before your amused laughter caught his attention.

“What?” he asked, offering you a glare. He still wasn't overly pleased about what had just happened.

“Nothing,” you laughed. “It's just, I can't believe that just happened.” You wandered over to the flat's window and watched as the couple hailed a taxi. “I just met your parents.”

Sherlock's glare slowly melted into something much softer as he took in your appearance. A small smile of achievement played on your lips.

“Yes well, now that they know you exist, expect to be invited to family dinner. They both clearly adored you.” He smirked.

Sherlock's remark drew another chuckle from you. Today had been an experience in itself, you could only imagine what a Holmes family dinner would entail.

“I don't think so. One Holmes is more than enough for me.”

You smiled as Sherlock followed you over to the window, wrapping an arm securely around your waist. You still couldn't get over how quickly he changed and how affectionate he became the minute you two were alone.

Sherlock hummed in response. “Quite right too.”

Sherlock's hold on you tightened as you both stood in silence for a few moments, which then slowly dragged into minutes. Not that you minded, you loved the intimacy.

Sherlock only dared to loosen his arms from around you when you practically begged him to let you go and change out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable.

“You know,” Sherlock called after you. “I'm not going to hear anything from my mother other than when I'm going to propose to you for the next year.”

“Well, you could always just make her happy by getting it over with,” you teased as you headed down the hall.

Sherlock smiled to himself as he watched you go. Maybe one day.

~~~~~~

Tag List: @miraclesoflove @kealohilani-tepise @quentawewe @fanfictionsilove @andreasworlsboring101 @jellyfishbeansontoast @starrykitn @xhz17x

#sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock x you #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fluff #sherlock holmes x you #1k #bbc sherlock x reader

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

Sweet Cream Nights (jjk + ksj + myg)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jungkook x Seokjin x Yoongi Genre: smut, fluff Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~8.4k

Tags: smut, fluff, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, bakery au, coffee shop au, arcade au, getting together, polyamory, food play, oral sex, come eating, dirty talk, humping

Summary: The local video game arcade owner is in love with the local barista who is also in love with the local baker. What could go wrong?

A/N: Third Kinktober fic, day 5: foodplay

Friendly competition was healthy, normal, and expected from successful business owners with shops near to one another. It only made sense that the two best coffee shops on the same street would have a friendly rivalry, or that the local bakery would compete with the nearby diner serving fresh cakes. What wasn’t normal, and not expected, was the local bakery in such a cutthroat competition with the local arcade.

It wasn’t even really about the products, of course. Individuals routinely purchased snacks or lunch from Seokjin, the owner and baker at History in the Baking – the best bakery in town by any local’s standards, then stopped in two doors down to play a few video games, often with Jungkook, the owner of the Golden Closet; a newer, but booming arcade. There was no loss in business and nothing forcing the rivalry.

Nothing, that was, except Deja Brew, the small café and coffee shop nestled directly between the two businesses. Really, it was because of the owner of the shop, one Min Yoongi.

Yoongi was everyone’s favorite. He liked to put on a grumpy front, often standing out in front of his rather adorable little shop as it opened at 6:37am sharp (he said, because 6:30 is too damn early, and what person wants coffee as late as 7:00am, really?) But it wasn’t real. No, the short, sweet faced grump was really as gentle as could be. He gave the bleary-eyed children of busy moms small sweets and volunteered with local charities. He often worked with Seokjin to make sure no product went to waste; every few days he and Jin would gather up near expiry products – Jin’s baked goods and breads and coffee beans that hadn’t sold, and Yoongi would drive them over to the nearby homeless shelter for breakfasts for the needy.

This was where Jin first realized that he’d fallen truly head over heels for the barista. The only problem he had was that he wasn’t sure if Yoongi liked him back, or if he was even into men. And the idea of ruining the both friendship and business cooperation they had was more terrifying than keeping silent.

Jungkook, on the other hand, knew almost immediately that he wanted to ask Yoongi on a date. The first week he’d moved into the empty space next to Yoongi’s shop, he’d wandered in, exhausted from an all nighter getting things up and running and just needing a quick pick me up. He’d expected something like a fancy Starbucks – in and out and perhaps a misspelled name on the cup to boot. What he’d gotten instead was a very concerned Yoongi herding him to a booth and a warm breakfast; the most delicious oatmeal he’d ever tasted, along with a rich, sweet coffee that made his toes curl and his heart skip. Though, maybe the heart skipping was more Yoongi’s doing than the coffee. Yes, Jungkook knew he’d been swept off his feet. His problem however was that despite being told he was handsome and being quite boisterous and loud in regards to his friends… Once someone he fancied came near, he clammed up; closing himself off and barely speaking more than a few words to the person. Which was what happened with Yoongi.

And Yoongi – for all his attention paid to customers, bills, and the local news – had no idea that he was being courted after by his two neighbors. When their rivalry picked up, Jungkook had blocked Jin’s back door for nearly three hours with a large truck first off; then Jin had had a whole pallet of flour ‘misdelivered’ to Jungkook’s door – he assumed they were old friends, or old enemies. Perhaps exes that were out to get one another. It wasn’t his problem, and he had no care about how they handled their rivalry – just as long as he wasn’t dragged into it.

Seven months, it went on. Seven entire months of petty pranks and murmured name-calling and generally annoyed glares between Jungkook and Jin. And then it happened.

Jungkook was early in to the arcade. It was nearly 6:15, but the sun was shining and he was feeling particularly good. He’d spent the evening out with an old friend who had encouraged him to ask Yoongi out before someone (Jin) did.

He walked past Jin’s shop, glancing in. He could see a few lights on in the back; Jin was always in early, working on his day to day treats. Despite his annoyance with Jin, he had to admit, the man was an excellent baker. And what was more, he was frankly stunning. Tall and broad, slender, with the face of a God – if Jungkook wasn’t so taken with Yoongi he may have gone after Jin. His custom pastries and cakes were stunning and elaborate, and his simple day to day cookies and pastries were always a hit. Rivalry or not, Jungkook knew good sweets, and that man’s were to die for.

He passed the bakery without lingering too long and glanced into the front window of the café. Much to his surprise, the main lights were on; Yoongi normally kept them off until opening time. He looked a little closer, and his stomach did a tight little flip. Yoongi was sitting at one of the tables, sipping coffee… With Seokjin.

They were laughing, and Jin reached over, brushing the tips of his fingers over Yoongi’s cheek. Jungkook saw red. It wasn’t fair. He reached up, ready to tap on the glass, draw Yoongi’s attention, anything. He froze though. What right did he have? He hadn’t made his move on Yoongi fast enough – that was on him. He sighed softly and shook his head, hurrying past the café before one of them caught him peering in like a pervert.

Jungkook tried to ignore the ache he felt as he worked, but every time his mind drifted, it went to what he saw that morning. Was it what he had assumed? Were they just friends? He had to find out. He slipped out under the guise of an early lunch break, entering Deja Brew.

Yoongi was behind the counter, looking stunning as always. He looked up and grinned. “Afternoon, Kook. What can I get you?”

“Whatever you think is good,” Jungkook said, settling in one of the tables. “You know I trust your opinion here.”

“Coming up.”

The shop was empty; Jungkook knew it wouldn’t start getting busy again until about noon. It was nice; he could watch Yoongi working without others wondering what was wrong with him. Yoongi circled around to the table with a tray, setting a sandwich in front of Jungkook along with a coffee.

“Mind if I join you? Grab my own lunch before the real lunch rush.”

“Of course not,” Jungkook grinned, trying not to sound too excited at the prospect.

Yoongi set a similar meal down on the other side and hurried the tray back to the counter before sliding in across from Jungkook.

Jungkook took a bite, groaning happily. “This is amazing.”

“Apple sausage with fresh veggies. I managed to get some really great products at the farmer’s market this weekend, and Jin gave me a deal on the bread. Nobody does these little sandwich loaves like he does.”

The smile slid from Jungkook’s face. He tried to replace it, ignoring the twist in his gut. Well, this was what he came for; might as well rip the bandage off. “You and Jin are pretty close, huh?”

“I think so,” Yoongi said casually, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“How long have you two been…” He drifted off. Yoongi’s brows furrowed for a moment. He swallowed the bite in his mouth.

“Been friends? About a year. We met a few months before you joined our little shop front.”

“No… Dating,” Jungkook clarified.

Yoongi coughed, laughing after taking a swig of coffee. “Dating? No, no. Jin and I aren’t dating. I’d love to but… He’s not into me that way.”

“Are you kidding? He’s obsessed with you,” Jungkook said without thinking, wanting immediately to kick himself. “I saw you two this morning when I was walking to my arcade. I figured… You know… It was a date.”

Yoongi chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll take your word for it, but no… We were just having breakfast.” He hesitated. “Do you really think he likes me?”

Jungkook snorted. “He adores you. I mean, why wouldn’t he? You’re funny and smart and one of the most caring guys in this town. Plus you make amazing coffee, you’re independent. And you’re handsome as hell and I—” He froze, realizing Yoongi was staring at him, eyes wide.

“I—I just mean you two are a good match,” he mumbled.

“I appreciate the plethora of compliments, but no we aren’t.” Yoongi chuckled. “Jin’s damn near a model.”

“He really is. I’ve never seen someone with such broad shoulders that doesn’t look weird. And his smile…” Jungkook shook his head, smiling a little. “He’s stunning. But you are too.”

“Well, maybe I’ll ask him out. But… I don’t think he’d be into my lifestyle.”

Jungkook’s brows raised. He twitched his head to the side, mouth pursing. When Yoongi didn’t continue, he nudged him with his foot under the table.

“Lifestyle?”

“It’s… Very hard to explain.”

“If it’s not comfortable, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s not that. I am comfortable with it. I just wish others were,” Yoongi mumbled.

“It sounds intriguing… I’ll listen without judging, you know me.”

Yoongi smiled softly. “You do have a knack for that, don’t you?” He sighed. “I’m not… Comfortable in traditional relationships. I never have been.”

“Like sexually?”

“Oh no, no. I’ve always been very sexual being. No, I mean traditional monogamy. I believe in faithfulness and I abhor cheaters… But for me the traditional two-person relationship is dull and unfulfilling. It’s like… I feel like I have so much love to give and no matter how much I give to the other person there’s this space missing.” He sighed again. “It’s very hard to explain to folks.”

“You feel like the true way to be happy in a relationship is to have more than one partner?” Jungkook clarified.

“For me, yes. I’m not disparaging traditional relationships, I just… When I date someone, I feel like there’s still this gap there, waiting to be filled by a third party. And it doesn’t matter to me whether that third is dating my first partner, or if they’re just dating me, or even if they’re dating someone else that I’m not dating, I’m okay with any combination, I just… I need to have more than what traditional monogamy can give me.”

“I get it,” Jungkook said, nodding. He sipped his coffee as he thought, processing the information. “I don’t see anything wrong with what you feel. You still love and believe in being faithful; I’m guessing seeking a third partner, or a fourth or however many would be something that you’d discuss with your partner originally.”

“Oh of course, but therein lies the problem. The majority of people don’t understand this mindset. They hear something about wanting another partner and insecurity crops up. Are they not good enough, do they not satisfy, am I falling out of love with them and there’s really no way to explain to a person who sees things in the traditional way.”

Jungkook nodded. He scowled at the remnants of his sandwich in thought, trying to put himself in Yoongi’s shoes, or in the shoes of someone Yoongi might be dating.

“It’s gonna catch fire if you laser focus any more on that bread,” Yoongi joked, his voice a little tense. Jungkook looked up. “Oh, sorry.” He laughed. Yoongi looked as tense as he sounded, and Jungkook wondered if he was waiting for a sort of negativity about what he’d just confessed.

“I was thinking about the type of relationship you described.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, trying to put myself in that place – the mind of someone you might be dating who you told this to.”

“What’s the verdict? Would you dump me?” Yoongi laughed as he spoke, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Jungkook shook his head no.

“When I think about it, I don’t deny my initial thought would be to ask if you were happy – I feel like that’s everyone’s gut response. We were raised in a monogamy preferred society, so it’s just… Natural to think that way. Not right, of course… We were also raised in a heterosexual society and I think it’s pretty clear that’s bullshit.”

Yoongi and Jungkook both chuckled at that. Jungkook continued.

“But I think if you explained that you were, and how you just told me about it, I think I’d get it. I would want to be with you in the process though. I don’t think I’d be comfortable with my partner seeking out another person without me. That would feel too much like hiding or cheating. But I think if we went together and met folks, or even had a person in mind that you wanted to ask, I’d want to like them too. Maybe not as much as I liked you, but some sort of friendship or agreement that you’d be good together, if that makes sense.”

Yoongi was silent for a long time after Jungkook spoke. He couldn’t figure out his expression. There were subtle shifts in it, and sometimes Yoongi looked close to tears, other times happy, and blank. Jungkook wanted to ask what he was thinking, or if he’d said something wrong, but didn’t want to push Yoongi into answering if he was still processing.

So he went back to eating, finishing the last of his sandwich and sipping the sweet coffee while he waited. He looked outside, watching the traffic pass through the window. Some familiar faces passed by, likely heading into his arcade next door. He should head back at some point soon, he’d left Taehyung in charge, which was fine in the short term, but Taehyung had a way of getting too up in his head or too hyperfocused on one thing – so it was best to have a second person there to bring him back to reality.

Jungkook was just about to clear his throat and call it a meeting when Yoongi looked up suddenly, meeting his gaze.

“Jungkook…”

“What?” Jungkook laughed a little, the intensity of Yoongi’s gaze startling. Not to mention, arousing; he’d never been looked at like that before. At least… Not by anyone he liked back.

“I’m in my late twenties,” Yoongi began, finally breaking the gaze to gather their plates. “And I’ve known this about myself since I was very young… Thirteen, fourteen maybe?” He rose, holding the plates and his empty cup. “In all that time I’ve never had someone respond how you just did. Taking the time to process and try to understand and… Get it. Maybe not think the same way as me but… Be able to offer me an answer that wasn’t going to break my heart. That would let me and them be happy.”

“I—”

Yoongi shook his head, his mouth curling up into a bright, gummy smile. “You asked about Jin because you’re jealous, didn’t you?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He lowered his gaze, nodding softly. “That’s weird, huh?” He mumbled.

“I think it’s cute.” Yoongi leaned down, his breath warm on Jungkook’s ear. “And I think you’re cute Jeon Jungkook.” He shifted, pressing a quick kiss to Jungkook’s cheek before standing upright.

Jungkook’s head snapped up when Yoongi rose. “What?”

Yoongi smirked. “I don’t mince my words. You heard me.” Yoongi glanced at the door, nodding to a customer approaching that he must have recognized. “My lunch rush is about to start,” Yoongi said as the bell dinged, signaling the customer’s entrance. “Come by when I close. I want to talk to you more.”

Jungkook grinned brightly, his nose crinkling up. He rose quickly and nodded even as Yoongi walked away. “I will,” he said, not wanting to turn his back as he watched Yoongi walk behind the counter. “I’ll see you—” He winced when his hip bumped the corner of a table hard enough to sting. He moved out of the way, nearly running into the customer.

“Sorry!” He cried, bowing low. He glanced up, his cheeks warm as he spotted Yoongi watching him, an amused smirk on his face.

Jungkook made it out of the café and over to his arcade without any further accidents. His mind was whirring over what had just happened. Yoongi had said he was cute. Yoongi had kissed his cheek. And asked him to come over. Was this happening? Was he going to win the guy?

The other information Yoongi provided him also crept back in. Now that Yoongi dating him might be reality, rather than theory, would Jungkook really be okay with sharing him with another partner? The more he thought about it, the more he realized he would. The idea of sharing Yoongi with someone else was intriguing. He wondered how date nights might look, if Yoongi would call them both boyfriends – if the other partner would even be a boy. What if he fell for that one too? It was something he’d never considered before; being in love with two men at the same time, but it was something that he was very interested in exploring. What was Yoongi’s type too? Would it be someone else similar to Jungkook? Or totally opposite? His mind wandered through all the possibilities, making the day pass easily.

Shortly before closing time, the front door opened. Jungkook glanced up from where he was sanitizing one of the game systems. His brows rose, disappearing into his shaggy hair when he saw none other than Jin standing in his doorway.

“Good afternoon,” he said politely, bowing. “You looking for something specific? We have some open computers at the internet bar, and some other game systems. I just cleaned this one, so—”

“I’m looking for you,” Jin said bluntly. His jaw was set, giving him a stern look, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “Can we chat?”

“Of course.” Jungkook nodded, heading behind the small counter that housed a few mini fridges worth of snacks and books filled with codes and game information. He tucked the sanitizing supplies on the bottom shelf and waved Taehyung over. “Keep an eye on the front for me, okay?”

Taehyung glanced at Jin before nodding to Jungkook. Jungkook motioned for Jin to follow him, unlocking a nondescript door that led into an “office” – really it was a gutted storage closet, but it worked to keep the fancy and important stuff out of sight of customers… And for private meetings. Jungkook leaned on the small desk.

“What do you need to talk about?”

“When did you start dating Yoongi?”

Jungkook blinked. “Who said I was dating him?”

“I saw you two this afternoon. He kissed you.”

“He kissed my cheek,” Jungkook corrected. “And you’re a snoop.”

“The shop’s windows aren’t exactly hidden away. I was walking past and saw.”

Jungkook nodded. He sighed and went around, slumping into the folding chair he’d set up to sit in while dealing with bills and other business things. “Well, we aren’t dating. I assumed he was dating you… I saw you two awful cozy this morning.”

“Oh, now who’s the snoop?” Jin grumbled, leaning on the door.

The two remained silent for a long time, staring each other down across the small space. Jungkook couldn’t help but notice how the fabric of Jin’s shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. Though it was a well fitted, button up shirt, it still seemed tight with his body. His belt was cinched around his waist, making his slender hips all the more obvious as well. Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to hold onto those slender hips, or wrap his arms around the broad shoulder span. And the more he looked, the more he noticed Jin’s mouth and neck. The curve of his throat, ridged with muscle, his full, pink lips that looked just a little chapped – but still oh so soft. The gentle curve of his nose and the smooth, shiny glow to his skin. Despite working in a bakery all day, not a hair was out of place, bangs parted just so to show a broad, smooth forehead that was begging to be kissed.

It was Jungkook who broke first, laughing in the silent room. He shook his head. “This is so stupid,” he said through bursts of laughter. Jin tried to remain stoic but broke as well, laughing along with Jungkook.

When their laughter faded, Jungkook shook his head, wiping his cheeks. “Look, I do like Yoongi. That’s no secret. And yeah, he did kiss my cheek – he was flirting. So, if you like him… I encourage you to tell him.”

“You just said he likes you.”

“And he likes you too. He told me today.” Jungkook hesitated. He didn’t want to say too much about what Yoongi told him; it wasn’t his place to tell. “You should talk to him. His answer might surprise you. But either way – we’ve been fighting over him for months, when in reality this is his choice. He deserves to know the truth so he can make that choice.”

Jin’s shoulders sagged just a little. He nodded. “I know you’re right. But I don’t want to make it harder for him if he has decided to date you.”

“I know you don’t, but you won’t know what he decides until you tell him. He’s a big boy – I’m sure he can handle it.”

Jin chuckled. “True… Thanks, Jungkook.” He turned to go, then turned back. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick these past few months.”

Jungkook grinned. “I’m not. It’s been fun. I’ve kinda enjoyed our pranking.”

“Is that so?” Jin smirked. “Well, maybe I won’t stop then.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Jin turned and walked out, leaving Jungkook to wrestle with far more internal questions than he had answers for.

That night, Jungkook headed over to Deja Brew as soon as he closed things up. The lights were mostly off, save for a few near the back and behind the counter. Assuming it was locked, Jungkook knocked gently. He saw movement from the back, and Yoongi came rushing out. Even in the fading sunlight, Jungkook could see he looked a little flushed and surprised. He opened the door, smiling brightly. “You came.”

“Of course I did… You okay?” Jungkook could see his cheeks were mottled and his hair was a little mussed.

“Yes. But… I have to tell you something.”

Jungkook stepped into the café, letting Yoongi close and lock the door behind him. He shouldered his bag a little higher onto his shoulder. “What do you have to tell me?”

“There’s been… A bit of a development. That I didn’t expect… When I told you to come by.”

“Oh?”

“Evening, Jungkook.” The voice came from the back room, where Yoongi had rushed from. Jungkook looked over Yoongi’s shoulder, his eyes widening. Jin was leaning against the doorframe. He was wearing the same shirt as he had been when he met Jungkook, but now it was hanging open save for two bottom buttons, his firm, broad chest exposed. It was damp with sweat and flushed red, as was Jin’s face and ears. His hair was a little mussed and his mouth – if anyone could believe it – was just a little plumper.

“Oh!” Jungkook backed up. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“Don’t go,” Yoongi whispered.

“But you and Jin—”

“He came over,” Yoongi nodded. “But I want to talk to you still. I don’t want you to go, please.”

Jungkook nodded. He met Jin’s gaze, a little surprised to see a gentleness there. He’d won – he expected Jin to look smug. He followed Yoongi back into the back room, and Jin followed as well, leaning against a nearby wall.

“Jin came over earlier,” Yoongi began. “He said you encouraged him to.”

“I did. He came to me and I said it was only fair to you. To tell you how he felt and let you choose. I guess he did and… You did.”

“How do you mean?” Yoongi asked.

“Well, you two…” Jungkook motioned to Jin’s open shirt.

“Oh, yeah. We did. I mean, we are… But… I told you earlier today. How I felt,” Yoongi said. “You said… A lot. About how you’d feel about it. Was that true?”

“About the… More than one person thing?”

Yoongi nodded.

“Yeah, I meant it all. I wouldn’t mind. If I knew you cared and were happy, I’d try.”

“Well I told Jin too.”

“And I said the same thing,” Jin added.

Jungkook smiled softly. “I’m glad. It’s good to find similarly minded people.”

“Jungkook,” Jin stepped forward. “You’re kinda dumb, aren’t you?”

Jungkook pouted. “No,” he mumbled. “I was just trying to be fair, I didn’t—”

“Jungkook, you and me and Yoongi all say the same thing. We’d be happy to try a relationship with more than one person.”

“Yeah, I got that…” Jungkook said, glancing between the two.

“Right… And we both like Yoongi,” Jin continued. “And… Considering the way you were eye fucking me in the office earlier…”

Jungkook’s eyes bulged. He opened his mouth to argue, but Jin shook his head. “I know when someone is giving me that look. I would’ve told you to stop if I didn’t like it.”

“You…”

“Think you’re kinda… Annoying.” Jin laughed at Jungkook’s expression. “And really attractive. Plus you’re competitive and stubborn and loyal…”

“You didn’t lose anything, Jungkook,” Yoongi said. “If you don’t want to lose, that is. If you want… You can both have me.”

Jungkook’s eyes bulged. Comically, if the laughter of Yoongi and Jin meant anything. “You mean—I—I could be with you both?” Jungkook stumbled over his words, wanting to kick himself.

Yoongi nodded. “Why should I choose between you when you both want me and I… Want both of you. And since you’re both okay with sharing me, then… It only seems fair to do so.”

“I was simply getting started a little early,” Jin teased, pulling Yoongi back to him. He kissed him hard.

Jungkook wasn’t sure what to do. He’d just been given the okay – he could date Yoongi – and Jin. He stepped forward, setting his backpack on the ground. Cautiously, he reached out, touching Yoongi’s wrist.

Jin broke the kiss. “Don’t be shy,” he murmured, nuzzling Yoongi’s neck even as he looked up at Jungkook.

Jungkook took a deep breath. He stepped forward, pulling Yoongi to him and kissing him. The reality of what was happening seemed to hit him suddenly when their lips met. He grabbed his cheeks, holding him close even as Yoongi laughed into his mouth. Jungkook felt a warmth behind him and hands on his hips. Jin.

“Can I share you too, Jungkook?” Jin whispered in his ear. Jungkook broke the kiss with Yoongi, looking over to meet Jin’s gaze.

“I—I guess so.”

Jin smiled softly. He stepped to the side, wrapping one arm around Jungkook and pulling him into a deep, needy kiss. His mouth tasted of warm, sweet vanilla and a hint of spice, while Yoongi’s had tasted like coffee beans and chai. It was the perfect blend.

Yoongi’s mouth landed on his neck, his hand sliding Jungkook’s front as he and Jin kissed. He felt hands on his jeans and gasped, breaking the kiss. He glanced down. Jin was undoing Jungkook’s jeans.

“You can stop me,” Jin said softly.

“And me,” Yoongi added.

“No,” Jungkook leaned back, sliding his hand up Yoongi’s neck and through his hair. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He reached forward, touching Jin’s bare chest before sliding lower, his fingers tracing the firm muscle of his abdomen. He undid the other two buttons of his shirt and pulled it open just as Jin opened his jeans. The slid down a little, and Yoongi helped, pushing them the rest of the way down to his ankles. Jungkook toed his sneakers off and kicked the jeans off. He let go of Jin’s chest to turn, grabbing Yoongi’s belt. “I’m not gonna be the only one with no pants,” he said.

Yoongi laughed. “I’ve already had my pants off. I put them on when you came in.”

“Oh, is that so?” Jungkook undid his belt and unzipped his jeans. “What were you two doing in here?” He looked back at Jin, who smirked.

“I was showing him just how… Versatile my food can be.”

“Is that so?”

Jin nodded. Jungkook pushed Yoongi’s jeans down and turned. “Well now I’m envious… Can I get a lesson in that diversity too?” He pouted.

Jin smirked. “I’m sure that can be arranged. He circled around the two and opened a small fridge under Yoongi’s desk. He pulled out a small cheesecake and a can of spray whipped cream. “Mind if I get some things from up front, Yoongi?”

Yoongi shook his head no, busying himself kissing along Jungkook’s neck. “Bet this isn’t at all what you expected tonight,” he murmured.

“Not at all,” Jungkook leaned into his touch. “But I’m not complaining.”

He turned, pulling Yoongi’s shirt off over his head. He took a moment to stroke his hands over Yoongi’s soft skin, tweaking his nipples just a bit and giggling when Yoongi hissed. Yoongi moved forward, forcing Jungkook to walk backwards until his back hit the wall. He moaned openly, grabbing Yoongi’s hips.

“Don’t come in your shorts now, I have some fun for you two,” Jin teased when he re-entered, holding a cup of coffee and a bowl of what looked like ice. He set them on the table next to the food and beckoned the two over.

“Yoongi… He smirked. He scraped a small chunk off the cheesecake and brought the fork toward Yoongi. Yoongi opened his mouth for it, but Jin moved the fork at the last second, smearing the cheesecake over Yoongi’s bare collarbone. He looked at Jungkook. “Go on.”

Jungkook grinned. He moved forward, gently licking and sucking the cheesecake from Yoongi’s collarbone. He let his teeth graze over the area, enjoying the squeeze of Yoongi’s hands on his waist.

“Take your shirt off now,” Jin whispered when Jungkook had cleaned Yoongi’s skin, and left an array of delightful red marks in his wake. Jungkook obeyed, stripping his shirt off and tossing it to the side. Jin did the same, and stripped his jeans off as well, leaving all three in their boxers. Jin grabbed the can of whipped cream, looking between the two. “Who wants a treat?”

“Yoongi,” Jungkook said. “I stole his cheesecake after all.”

Jin stepped forward and reached out, palming Jungkook through his boxers. Jungkook gasped, his eyelids fluttering shut.

“Lets get these off then,” Jin whispered, pressing a kiss to Jungkook’s jaw. Yoongi stepped forward, sliding them down his hips. Jin made a low noise of appreciation when his cock sprang free. He shook the can once more.

“It’ll be cold,” he warned before tipping it upside down. He pressed Jungkook’s cock down a little further so it was more parallel to the ground and sprayed a few lines of the creamy dessert whip over his shaft.

Jungkook forced his eyes open as Yoongi sank to the ground, licking his lips. He grasped Jungkook’s cock gently behind the tip, careful not to disturb the whipped cream, and looked up at him. Slow and steady, he began to lap to Jungkook’s cock, catching the cream with his tongue. Each inch slipped into his mouth, hot and warm and slick, Jungkook gasped, reaching out for anything to brace himself. Jin caught him, holding his hips to keep him upright as Yoongi sucked his cock.

“That’s it, feels nice, doesn’t it?” Jin murmured in his ear, reaching up to pinch Jungkook’s nipples gently. Jungkook moaned, stroking his fingers through Yoongi’s hair.

“Wanna repay the favor?” He asked softly when Yoongi had sucked all the cream from Jungkook’s cock.

Jungkook nodded. “But—What about you?” He asked, sliding his hand down to palm Jin’s cock.

Jin smirked. “Oh, wanna see what I have too?” He teased. Jungkook nodded.

“Only fair,” Yoongi said as he stood. He slid his own boxers off and they turned to Jin, shedding the final article of clothing he wore as well.

Jin handed Jungkook a piece of ice. “Put it in your mouth… And suck my cock,” he instructed. He took a mouthful of coffee and knelt in front of Yoongi. Glancing up, he winked. He grabbed Yoongi’s cock and gave it a few strokes before slowly sliding it past his closed lips. Yoongi groaned and jerked. A bit of the warm coffee dribbled out, down Jin’s chin and chest. He began to bob his head, and Jungkook could hear the slosh of the coffee in his mouth as he sucked Yoongi.

Jungkook dropped to his hands and knees and placed the ice chip in his mouth. He grabbed Jin’s cock and gave it a few strokes, blowing first gently on it. Jin shuddered and grabbed the back of Jungkook’s neck, squeezing just enough to be known. Jungkook watched goosebumps appear on his thick thighs. He leaned down further and sucked Jin’s cock into his mouth. He flicked the slowly melting ice chip over and around it, using Jin’s grip on the back of his neck to guide what felt the best. Yoongi’s moans were filling the air, as well as the heavy breathing of all three and the wet noises of the two sucking. Jin pulled back and swallowed, gasping and moaning Jungkook’s name. Yoongi sank to the ground and grabbed another ice chip, tapping Jungkook on the shoulder. He moved back, allowing Yoongi to take over.

Jungkook stood and grabbed a forkful of the cheesecake. He slowly streaked it down his belly and over his cock, leaving a little bite on the tip of his cock. Jin smirked, his mouth open already. Jungkook guided him to his cock, moaning when Jin took his tip into his mouth. He sucked hard, flicking his tongue over the top of the head to get the remnants of cheesecake. He moved up then, shifting as much as he could with his cock in Yoongi’s mouth, and licked and nibbled at Jungkook’s belly. Down, over his cock, firm licks and daring grazes of his teeth that had Jungkook tensing in preparation for pain – and moaning in disbelieving arousal when it didn’t come. He was dribbling precoma freely, and knew he wouldn’t last long. Jin pulled back and moaned, tugging on Yoongi’s hair gently.

“Stop, stop—I’m gonna come,” he whined.

Yoongi pulled back, looking up at him. “Isn’t that the point?” He teased.

Jin chuckled. “I suppose. But it wouldn’t be fair of you to hoard it to yourself, what if Jungkook wanted a taste?”

Jungkook smirked. “He could share with me after it’s already in his mouth, I suppose.”

Jin’s breathing caught, just a bit, and he nodded. “I suppose he could.” He and Yoongi rose and Jin grabbed a small bowl from the fridge. “My homemade frosting,” he explained when Jungkook twitched his head at it. He uncovered the bowl and took a spoon, stirring it. “Yoongi. Come here.”

When Yoongi approached, he slathered the frosting over the length of Yoongi’s thick cock, adding a playful swirl to the dollop at the tip. He looked to Jungkook. “He’s the only one you’ve not tasted yet. Go for it.”

Jungkook sank down and took him into his mouth quickly, moaning around his length. The rich, sweet vanilla cream blended perfectly with Yoongi’s salty precome, dribbling in and teasing him with the promise of more. Jungkook bobbed his head quickly, eager to swallow down both the frosting and Yoongi’s unique taste. Yoongi held back no sounds, tugging softly at Jungkook’s hair as he moaned happily.

Jin dropped down next to Jungkook, shifting to suck and lick at the part of Yoongi’s cock not in Jungkook’s mouth. They switched, taking turns lavishing attention over Yoongi’s cock. Their mouths often met in wet kisses, his cock slotted between their lips. He whined, his hips bucking.

“Please—” He panted. “It’s okay, you can come,” Jin purred, swallowing his cock down. He backed up, letting Jungkook do the same. They kept at it until Yoongi’s cock began to throb. As it did, Jungkook pulled back, holding it towards them and stroking quickly. The ropes of come erupted from his cock, hitting both on the cheeks and open mouths. Jungkook whined softly, feeling a rope shoot over his tongue. As his orgasm faded, Jin grabbed Jungkook’s face, kissing him hard. They cleaned Yoongi’s release from one another with kisses, sharing the salty treat between them.

Yoongi sank down, his legs shaking visibly. He grabbed for Jungkook and Jin’s cocks, stroking one in each hand as they made out. Jungkook pulled back in time to see Yoongi leaning forward, swallowing Jin’s cock down as he stroked Jungkook’s. He switched after a few moments, wrapping his perfect lips around Jungkook’s cock and stroking Jin’s.

“God, I’m already close,” Jungkook whined, holding onto Jin as Yoongi bobbed his head along his shaft.

“Come in his mouth,” Jin murmured. “You can see how much he wants it.”

Yoongi whined in agreement, his breath hot around Jungkook’s cock. He began to bob his head a little faster, reaching up to play with Jungkook’s balls as he did.

“That’s it,” Jin praised, stroking the back of Yoongi’s neck. Jungkook let his head fall onto Jin’s shoulder, his fingers biting into his side as Yoongi’s mouth dragged him closer to orgasm. He grunted, biting his lip. Jin slid his hand down, squeezing Jungkook’s ass. He brushed his finger teasingly over Jungkook’s hole, smirking when he jumped.

“Sensitive,” teased.

Jungkook moaned, pushing his hips forward, pumping into Yoongi’s mouth, and back toward Jin’s hand. The hand disappeared from his ass for a moment. He heard Jin spit and it was back, one finger slipping into his hole. Jungkook shouted in surprise. His hips jerked forward and back, gagging Yoongi.

“Sorry,” he panted, laughing breathlessly as Jin began to finger him. Yoongi gave a thumbs up, shifting to adjust his movements.

Jin found Jungkook’s prostate easily and began to rub and press it, murmuring soft praises in his ear.

Jungkook whimpered. He tugged Yoongi’s hair gently. “I can’t hold back,” he gasped in warning. Yoongi nodded as well as he could and pulled back, focusing his oral work on Jungkook’s tip. He rubbed and pressed his balls gently at the same time Jin pushed a second finger up his ass, scissoring them and rubbing against his spot. Jungkook swore, his legs beginning to shake. His cock jerked as his orgasm hit, spilling ropes of come into Yoongi’s mouth.

Jin slowed his fingers but kept them buried inside Jungkook, rubbing just enough to keep a low level orgasmic buzz running through Jungkook as he milked him dry.

Yoongi rose, his mouth open to show the come in it. He winked at Jungkook before pulling Jin into a deep kiss. Jungkook struggled to stay upright, watching them share his come.

When Yoongi pulled away, Jin withdrew his fingers momentarily.

“Can I keep fingering you while I come?” He asked.

Jungkook smirked tiredly. “Of course.” He bent over the desk, wiggling his ass playfully.

“Wanna finger mine too?” Yoongi teased.

“Well, I’d like to do more than that,” Jin murmured, kissing Yoongi once more. “But I’ll settle for rubbing off on it… If you’ll let me.”

Yoongi immediately bent over the desk next to Jungkook, kissing him softly. Jin added more spit to Jungkook’s hole, going back to fingering him lazily. Jungkook whined, his soft cock still dribbling weak ropes of come at the right pressure on his spot. He glanced over, watching Jin spit on his other hand to slick his cock. He slid it up, along Yoongi’s perky ass, and moaned, immediately beginning to hump against it.

After a while, Jin pulled his fingers free from Jungkook’s hole and squeezed Yoongi’s ass, swearing softly.

“Spread it,” he panted. Yoongi obeyed, spreading his ass open for Jin.

Jin spat against his hole, and Jungkook watched him slide a finger in gently. Yoongi moaned, deep in his chest as he did. Jin removed his finger and lined his cock up, poking the tip gently against Yoongi’s tight hole. He paused, jerking his cock quickly.

He moved over to Jungkook, squeezing his ass.

“Spread,” he panted. Jungkook obeyed, blushing darkly when he heard Jin spit and felt a glob land on his hole. Jin went immediately with his cock, spreading it with the tip and nudging Jungkook’s hole. Slightly more relaxed from the earlier fingering, Jungkook felt his hole give a little, and he moaned.

“Goddamnit,” Jin panted. Jungkook could hear him stroking his cock, the nudges against his hole becoming more persistent. “I wish I could fuck you both,” he grunted.

“Next time I’ll have lube,” Yoongi murmured. “I’d particularly like to see you take Jungkook and pound him against the wall… Looks like you make such pretty sounds with a cock up your ass, Jungkook.”

Jungkook laughed breathlessly, moaning softly. “I think I do… I love begging for it,” he admitted.

Both Jin and Yoongi made appreciative noises.

“I’d like to fuck him after,” Yoongi continued. “Lay him on his his belly right over there… And fuck him after you gape his ass. You could fuck me while I was doing it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jin swore. He moved between them and grabbed the plate of cheesecake, setting it on the table. With a soft groan and a series of rhythmic grunts, Jin came, thick ropes spilling from his cock over the dessert.

Jungkook met Yoongi’s gaze and smirked, understanding the intention. They both grabbed forks and began to cut into the cake, feeding one another the come covered bites over Jin’s cock. He moaned softly, seeming to shudder and relax as they ate. Jungkook scooped up the last bite and stood straight, holding it out for Jin, he took it gladly, meeting Jungkook’s gaze as he chewed and swallowed. He leaned forward, kissing Yoongi and then Jungkook. Jungkook returned the kiss, pulling back to kiss Yoongi as well.

The three redressed and cleaned up the office in relative silence, each seeming to be going over what had happened.

“So… That was… Admittedly a little unexpected,” Yoongi said finally, settling into his chair behind the desk. Jin, for all his gusto, looked a little shy, and Jungkook was worried.

“Was it too much?” Jungkook asked.

“I don’t think so. Not for me, at least… What about you two?”

“I liked it,” Jin said. “I had fun and it was a good way to… Try out this dynamic, of all three of us. I’ve never… I’ve never dated more than one person at a time, but I like Jungkook, and I want to try it. And I know it’s where you feel comfortable. So for me, it was nice to sort of… See where we all stood and get close in a new way.”

Jungkook nodded. “I agree. I had said earlier today that I’d be fine with my partner dating someone else, and I kept thinking about that during the day. My mind did wander to Jin a few times, I won’t lie. I think he’s the best match for both of us. He and I have always had our…”

“Rivalry,” Jin filled in, laughing a little, and Jungkook nodded.

“Yes, rivalry. That I have enjoyed. And I obviously care a lot for you, Yoongi… I’m happy with tonight and… I hope we can move forward as a … Well, not really a couple, are we?”

Yoongi laughed. “Not exactly. There’s a lot of words that people have come up with for folks in our dynamic, we can figure it out later. For now I’m content just knowing that there’s no regrets. And that we all want to move forward into… Dating.”

Jungkook and Jin both nodded eagerly.

“How will dating work?” Jungkook asked. “Do the three of us go together? Two at a time? I mean… Since Jin and I, I figured… You are okay with… Wanting to date me too?”

“I’d like to try it,” Jin said, nodding in agreement.

“I’ve never actually had this kind of relationship,” Yoongi admitted, “despite wanting it for so long. I think we’ll have to sit down together and really hash out what each of us need in a relationship, and how the other two can best provide it. I do know that for this sort of thing… We need to be open with each other.”

Yoongi rose as he spoke, going over to Jin and Jungkook. He took each of their hands in his own. “Communicating is the only way this can work, okay? No more secrets, no more unspoken words and passive aggressive pranking.”

Thy all shared a chuckle at that. Jungkook shook his head. “I think pranking has really become Jin and I’s love language… You’re not gonna stop the pranks, Yoongi.”

Yoongi sighed dramatically, grinning. “And here I was hoping I’d get to avoid Jin shouting at seven in the morning when you’ve stolen his mixer yet again.”

Jungkook grinned brightly as Jin laughed.

“Look, that was a good prank!” Jungkook defended.

“Yeah, only because I returned it shutting down your fuse box the next day.”

Jungkook glared, but grinned as he was doing it. “We’ll keep you out of the pranks,” he promised, looking back to Yoongi.

“I don’t mind. Just don’t prank me.”

“It’s late,” Jin said. “Why don’t we all have a light dinner together tomorrow after closing? We can meet here, I’ll bring some stuff from the bakery too, and we can have some of the leftover sandwiches from your café. We can all sit together and really talk about what we need and what we’d like from this sort of relationship.”

Jungkook and Yoongi nodded. “I like that idea. I’d like to think more about it anyways,” Jungkook admitted. “I know I want this, but I’ve not been in a lot of relationships, so… When someone asks me what I want from even a traditional two person… I don’t think I could answer. I need to really think and figure it out.”

“I feel like that’s a fair assessment,” Yoongi said. “I’m in a similar boat. The idea that you’re both… Mine… It’s a lot. I’m happy. I’m just overwhelmed.”

“You never thought you could have this,” Jin said. Yoongi nodded.

“Well you do,” Jungkook stepped forward and hugged Yoongi tightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “And we might have to figure out the fine-tuning stuff, but you have us. It’s not a dream.”

Yoongi hugged him back, nuzzling his neck. “Thank you.”

“We care a lot about you, Yoongi. No matter what. I think I can speak for Jungkook too when I say that this is a good move for us all. We’re happy, and we’ll be happy like this,” Jin said. He wrapped his arms around them both, enveloping them in a tight hug.

They separated after a moment and Jungkook grabbed his bag. “Come on, we should get going. Do you have any last-minute things to do?”

“No, I’m all closed up here, just have to shut off lights.” Yoongi headed to the back of the office and grabbed his jacket, flicking off the lights and basking them in darkness.

The trio walked to the doors and stepped out into the cool night air, letting Yoongi lock his door. They stood for a moment, all looking at one another in the streetlights. “Well, I go this way,” Jungkook said, jutting his finger in the direction of his bus stop.

“I’m that way too,” Yoongi said.

“I go the other way,” Jin said. He glanced around then stepped forward and kissed Yoongi long and hard. Jungkook chuckled a little at it. It was cute, if he was being honest. Jin glared playfully at him. “What’re you laughing at, punk?” He joked. He grabbed Jungkook’s shirt and pulled him into a kiss as well.

He stood straight and fixed his shirt. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Get home safely,” Yoongi said. They watched Jin walk down the street before turning and walking up it.

“How far up do you go?” Yoongi asked.

“My bus stop is about two blocks away.”

“Do you live very far?”

Jungkook shook his head no. “Only a few miles. Just a little too far to walk or ride a bike in, so I have to do the bus.”

Yoongi nodded. “I only live about half a mile up, so I usually walk it. Do you have a car, for the winter?”

“No, but the bus stop is right outside my apartment so it’s not so bad. The city keeps these streets shoveled well.”

“Hm… Well, we’ll see when winter comes. I have a car, I just don’t bother using it except winter with how close I live. I wonder how far down Jin lives.” He glanced back.

“We can ask him tomorrow.”

They reached Jungkook’s bus stop. Yoongi sighed softly. “I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“The conversation we had this afternoon gave me so much joy and confidence… Just hearing someone support me and give me hope that I could be truly happy… And then I know you sent Jin to me. Even though you knew it might mean losing me if I didn’t want you as a third, I… Your care means so much.”

Jungkook smiled softly. “I fell for you the minute I saw you, Yoongi. I want you to be happy, no matter what. And getting to be with you… And with Jin… It’s perfect. For as much as he and I argue, he’s an amazing man.”

“He is… And so are you.” Yoongi took Jungkook’s hands and squeezed gently. “I’m so happy that this happened.”

Jungkook grinned, his heart skipping a beat. He leaned forward and kissed Yoongi gently. “My bus will be here soon,” he said, not stepping away from Yoongi. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you.” Yoongi kissed him once more before letting his hands go and heading down the street.

Jungkook sighed heavily, a grin on his face as he did. Though he’d been hoping for a good result from finally confronting his feelings, this was a better one that he’d ever imagined. He knew that their future would be a sweet as the coffee and pastries his new boyfriends created.

#thebtswritersclub #jungkook x seokjin x yoongi #jungkook fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #seokjin smut #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #min yoongi #mywriting

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

Finally another oneshot, after forever and a day. I’m weak for soulmate AUs. I think most of you know that already.

SO WHY NOT ANOTHER?! WOO!

This one is based on a prompt given to me a hella long time ago, idk who sent it to me. Tell me who you are so I can credit you! I wrote down the prompt for me to remember, it’s something like; “You can write letters to your soulmate, and they travel through time either to a moment your soulmate needs the letter most or to a random point in time to them.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Dear Myself.

I’m doing this for school. We have to write letters to our future self. I am nine years old right now, the year is 2009. I hope you found a cool job! I don’t know what to do yet. I like drawing though! Science is icky, so I hope you’re not a scientist. But if you are, and if it makes us happy, then I guess it’s okay. Be the best scientist you can! If you are all moved out, did you ever get a pet hamster? Hamsters are so cute!

Oh, but most important. Yesterday, I was bullied by my Arch Enemy. You know who. Yeah. Anyway, she said some mean things and it just reminded me that sometimes life hurts, and people can hurt you real bad. But life is still pretty. A family of robins made a nest on my terrace outside my room, and I saw them after I was done crying. They are so cute, and made me happy again. So, always look for your family of robins to keep you happy, I guess. Life isn’t bad, even if some things and people are. I hope you remember that. Keep believing in yourself, and in others!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (from the past).

Do not open this letter before 2020! Pretty please!

Shaking hands held the letter. It was written two years ago, but he only could have gotten it now. It just appeared on his desk out of nowhere. At first, he thought it was some sick joke. He had just moved to Gotham again, and none of his—

None of them knew he was back. But he recognized this handwriting. He had gotten exactly one letter from them before, written by an older version of this woman and received by him when he was ten. Not long after being taken in by Bruce Wayne. The letter back then had been short, precise. Comforting.

Hello there.

I am writing this in the year 2018. You see, I found out quite a while ago that my soulmate bond is unique. It sends letters to you that I write, from all across time. I can get your letters, too, so don’t hesitate to write to me if you need to vent. My letters might not always reach you in time to feel like a normal response, but I’ll keep writing if you do. I know your life isn’t easy, if the letters I’ve already gotten mean anything. But keep fighting. I know what it’s like to be the underdog. But I’m rooting for you.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, New Adult.

Jason’s hands crumpled the two pieces of paper in them, the older of the two already close to crumbling away. They had buried him with it, resurrected him with it. It had seen hell and back just like him, but he still kept it. Even with blurring ink and ripped edges and blood stains. The writing and names matched, even if his newer letter was written in the clumsy scrawl of a child. The nuances in the handwriting were still the same.

She would still be writing to him. This new letter he got was clearly the first, before she knew about her soulmate or how her letters would disappear after she wrote them just like his did. But 2009? It just sank into him, that she was younger than he was. By seven years.

But her words still kept him afloat better than any lecture from that asshole Bruce.

He couldn’t see her yet. Not any time soon, really. He was already eighteen, dead and resurrected, and she was barely eleven. He could wait.

She didn’t need somebody as screwed and dark as him right now, anyway. A murderer, a budding crime boss. If she needed someone killed for her, or someone to save her, he’d be there. Otherwise?

Jason took out the receipt from his last visit to a gas station for cigarettes, grabbed a sharpie from his desk, and began to write.

Yo, Mari.

I’m writing this in 2011. I got your first letter. Thanks. It reminded me of some good times. I’m sorry I didn’t write anything for five years. Stuff happened. I won’t write often. Not until I’m in a better place. But if you need it, you can vent to me too. Also, don’t look at the back of this receipt. This was the only paper I could find.

Jason T., Your Soulmate.

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette, nine years old, stared down at the receipt that had taken the place of her letter to herself. She recognized that it was written in English, but she couldn’t read it yet. But that was okay, her Papan and Maman could read English!

She ran down, holding it in her hands tightly. She didn’t want the mystery letter to disappear! She handed it to her parents, who were in the middle of making croissants and stared at her for a moment. And then they broke into a flurry of movement.

“Why do you have a receipt for cigarettes, Marinette?!” Sabine yelled, confused more than angry. How would her daughter get a receipt written in English? And after giving her parents a confused head tilt, Marinette explained.

“It just appeared, like, poof!” She moved her hands to illustrate her point. “I was writing my letter to my future self for school, which is gone now oh no! Mlle. is going to be so mad!”

“Mari, focus,” Tom prodded gently, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You were writing your letter, and then what?”

Marinette took a deep breath. “Well, I finished it and put it in a little envelope. But as soon as I put it down and was all done, it shimmered red and faded away! This showed up in the same place my letter had been, like they were traded!”

Tom and Sabine shared a glance, and her mom held out her hand. “Can I read it, Marinette? I promise I won’t take it away. Your father and I just want to see what it says. We’ll read it to you.”

Marinette nodded eagerly, and after making sure their dough was put away the family of bakers moved to their living room and the little girl sat on her father’s lap as her mother held the note for them to see and read it aloud.

The parents shared another glance.

“Wow!” Marinette exclaimed happily, bouncing in place. “He sounds so cool! He is my soulmate? Really? I wonder what he looks like!” Her eyes took on a dreamy quality as she began to daydream. “I bet he’s super handsome! And nice and strong and—“

“Mari,” Tom said gently, tugging one pigtail playfully to get his daughter’s attention. She turned her large blue eyes to him, rapt with attentiveness. “I know this is exciting, but you know that not all soulmates are romantic, right?”

Marinette instantly calmed down, eyebrows pinching together. “But— but Nino said that soulmates are people you will marry in the future. Your perfect person. Like you and Maman,” she argued, incredibly confused. Her Maman chuckled, handing Marinette her receipt-letter back.

“Yes, but sometimes a person doesn’t need romance the most. Sometimes, what a person needs most is a friend or another family member. So sometimes, a soulmate is a big sister or brother instead, or another Maman or Papan. And we think that your soulmate might be the big brother kind,” she explained patiently. Marinette’s confusion instantly changed to excitement again, eyes sparkling with starry amazement.

“Really? How can you tell?”

“Well,” Tom took over, tapping the receipt with one finger. This receipt is from America. Over there, you have to be eighteen to buy cigarettes. Which means that, two years from now, your soulmate is already eighteen.”

“Or he better be, anyway,” Sabine growled, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“But even if he isn’t,” Tom nervously glanced over at his wife and back to his daughter. “The way he writes is too grown up for someone close to your age. He is probably several years older than you—“

“At least seven, if he knows what’s good for him,” Sabine interrupted again. Tom just chuckled and shook his head.

“But still. Are you okay with him not being a romantic soulmate, Nettie?”

Marinette jumped off of her dad’s lap, hugging her note to her chest with one of the biggest smiles either of her parents had ever seen on her face.

“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted a big brother! I bet he’s so cool, and rides a motorcycle and beats up bad guys! And when we meet, we’ll go out for ice cream and he’ll ruffle my hair, and let me ride on his shoulders, and it’ll be so awesome!”

Sabine finally lost her threatening aura, laughing along with her daughter. “Well, I don’t know about the whole beating up bad guys thing. But it sounds like he might need some cheering up, so you should write him letters pretty often. You never know when he might need one the most.”

Marinette nodded seriously, eyes shining with determination now. “That’s right! I have to be the best soulmate-sister ever! I’ll start writing him another letter right now!” She instantly turned to run back up to her room, but her dad’s voice followed her:

“Marinette! You haven’t eaten dinner yet!”

—*—*—*—*—*

The next day, Jason came back to his base to see another letter. It was on special scrapbook paper, a pretty white with a heart-and-stars border. He found himself snorting despite himself, shaking his head and picking up the girly letter.

Hello, Jason!

I just got your letter! It’s still 2009, and my parents were worried about the cigarats. I wanted to learn English first, but Maman and Papan reminded me that you have to be able to read French if you were able to read my past letters (I wonder what I wrote you! My future self must be real smart). Maman says you better be 18, or else she’ll kick your butt. She didn’t say that exactly, but I could tell.

Jason snickered at that. She must have a pretty fun family.

Maman and Papan also said that you’re probably a Big Brother soulmate. That’s super cool! I’ve always wanted an older brother, but it’s just me. I get lonely sometimes. And Maman thinks I have a big imagination, so help me prove her wrong! I bet her that you’re suuuuuuper cool, and have a motorcycle and beat up criminals! She doesn’t think my soulmate would be a hero, but I think you are. I don’t even know you yet, but I just feel it. And even if you don’t beat up bad guys, that’s fine. You’ll still protect me like a big brother should, right? And we’ll go and eat ice cream and talk about the stuff we like when we finally meet. And I’ll protect you too. I know little sisters aren’t supposed to, but I will totally protect you anyway. If you’re sad, I’ll make you macaroons and read you a bedtime story. That always makes me happy.

Please write back soon!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (from the past still!)

Jason couldn’t help it, and maybe the Lazarus magic had a bit of sway on him still, but he laughed raucously. A deep, belly-shaking bellow. His soulmate sure was a character! And scarily intuitive. How did she guess such accurate things about him? It was hilarious.

But he wouldn’t write back today. Not yet. He held no illusions; he wasn’t brother material. Not now, and probably not for a while if ever. Which reminded him, he had a replacement to kill.

—*—*—*—*—*

The Replacement lived, but at least Batman had gotten the message. Meanwhile, letters from Little Mari, as he had started calling her in his head, had started piling up. He read every single one, but didn’t respond to any. It was all the usual stuff. Talking about her day, asking stuff about him, spouting advice that seemed way too insightful for a nine-year-old.

He kept every single one. Soon, 2009 letters turned into 2010 letters. She switched from writing almost every day to once a week.

By then, Jason had reconciled with Bruce for the most part. After a few attempts on his life, but that wasn’t important. It was then, as he sat down in the living room watching Tim, Dick, Bruce, and the newest hellion Damian, all talking with and teasing one another that he finally got the urge to write again. So he asked for paper, and Alfred brought him a notepad and a plain ballpoint pen. And, for the first time in over a year, he started writing.

Dick and Bruce noticed first, stopping their banter to stare. Dick smiled softly, his shoulders relaxing as he let himself slump over the sofa’s arm a bit. Tim furrowed his eyebrows, and Damian frowned.

“What are you doing, Todd?” The young hellion asked, but Jason barely heard him.

“Nonya business, squirt,” he replied absently. Bruce chuckled fondly, beckoning to his two youngest sons. They both came a bit closer, and Bruce smiled at them conspiratorially. He leaned forward and whispered:

“Jason’s soulbond allows any letters that he writes to travel through time to his Bonded, and vice versa. Back before… everything, he used to write a letter to her almost every day.”

“It’s really sweet. We lined up the dates, and we think that she’s around your age Damian,” Dick added in equally softly. “Probably a familial bond. It’s good that he’s writing to her again.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette was twelve the next time she got a letter from Jason. But, unlike the last one, this one came from the past. And it was written in French.

Hi, Marinette!

I guess I’m your soulmate. I got your letter from 2018. It’s 2005 when I’m writing this. I’m twelve years old right now, but that shouldn’t matter. It was a little surprising when I got a letter written in French out of nowhere! Luckily, I speak a lot of languages. I love learning languages, and reading is probably my favorite thing to do. Don’t tell anyone though! I have my bad-boy image to keep up. I think our soulbond is really cool actually, and maybe we can teach each other stuff if we do this right. I know the whole time-traveling-letters thing makes it hard to reply to each other like normal. From now on, I’ll write you these letters in English and translate them in French on the back. That way, you can read it whenever you want and also learn English if you don’t already know it when you get this letter.

Oh, and I think I’m older than you? In real time, I mean. If you’re a “new adult” in 2018, then you’re probably a few years younger than me. I was born in 1993. You can do the math, since I don’t know when you were born. Anyway! I’ll keep writing you as often as I can and hope that you get these letters when you need them most.

Jason T., Excited Tween.

Marinette laughed, running down to show her mom. She was only writing Jason once a month now, but in the midst of this first letter she had received in three years, her determination was relit. It was just the letters being dumb when they flew through time! No way he was done writing to her. Right?

“Maman! Maman, he really was eighteen when he wrote that first letter! You don’t have to kill him!”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette stared at the pile of letters on her desk, sighing. She ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to read them yet, but she knew they were each dated from 2005. Apparently they had both decided to write daily when they had first discovered their Bond.

“Marinette,” the familiar voice of Tikki spoke you, the little Kwami floating over to land on her holder’s shoulder. “You should read them. Your bond wouldn’t give you letters you don’t need.”

Marinette took a deep breath, rubbing her already sore and red eyes. “I know. But what if—“

Tikki grabbed the letter at the bottom of the pile, flying over and handing it to the pigtailed girl. She smiled gently. “Read it. No what-ifs. Just read for now, Marinette.”

The newest Ladybug sighed, but acquiesced. She sat down at her desk, and began to read. Only two months as Ladybug, and already the pressure was becoming too much.

Two hours later, she had caught up and her mood was considerably better. Jason’s life was definitely no cake walk, but his humor bled through the more concerning details and helped bring light to Marinette’s day. Slowly, one by one, she folded the letters and put them in her special locked box inside her “diary”. She tried to keep a real diary once, but quickly stopped when she realized that even “dear diary” counted as a letter and sent itself to Jason.

She pulled out one of her special pieces of stationary paper and her favorite pink gel pen. For a while she stared at the paper, out of practice after a few months of not writing to him, but eventually she was able to begin again.

Hey Jason.

It’s 2013. I’m 13. I’m pretty sure you got the point by now, it’s not hard to figure out what year I was born. I haven’t responded to any of your letters in a while, but I guess that doesn’t matter. It’s not like I know if you’re gonna get this right away anyway.

So. Uh. Things have changed. I’m only thirteen, but I feel so old you know? On the bright side, your letters really did help me learn English. I mean, you probably guessed that since I’m writing this whole thing in English.

I guess I should explain. A little. A lot has happened. I suddenly have so many responsibilities, and it’s really hard to keep up with it all. So much has changed in just a few months, I feel like I’m going crazy. I’m keeping secrets from Maman and Papan now, which hurts the most. I can’t tell them, I can’t even tell you, but I’m not used to this. I don’t like lying. I don’t even know why any of this happened in the first place, I want answers and I’m getting radio silence. It sucks. But your letters from 2005 really helped, so thanks. I just got them this past year, which is really weird because I remember that our letters time travel and I feel crazy again. But this is real. Our Bond is real, and maybe writing you will help me remember that. Help me focus a bit.

Anyway, that’s all I can think of right now. I’ll try to write you again sometime this week if I have time. We’ll see.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Unsure Teenager.

—*—*—*—*—*

As soon as Jason finished his letter, pretending he couldn’t feel Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian all spying on him from their own spots around the living room, the papers he wrote on shimmered red and vanished. In their place, a piece of tea-colored scrapbook paper with a decorative robin-and-egg border (he would never know how she could be so obliviously on point with the designs she chose), popped into existence. He blinked, snatching it up and looking it over. His eyes widened.

“It’s only from next year,” he said aloud, for the benefit of the nosy assholes sharing the room with him. “That’s the closest any of our letters have been to one another,” and then Jason’s eyes promptly went serious as she actually read what the paper said.

“Jay?” Dick asked after the man had been silent too long. Jason grunted, his eyes briefly shimmering green before he shook it away. He took a few deep breaths, and finally responded by standing up and handing the paper over to them.

“Something happens next year that fucks with her. All of the letters I’ve gotten from her, besides that first one back when I was still Robin, were from before this. 2009 to 2010. I even got a few from last year, not that long ago. She’s always upbeat and happy and never said anything about any concerning things besides some schoolyard bullying. This isn’t at all like her. The tone is off.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve actually met her yet Jason,” Tim tried to console him, rereading the paper to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “This could be something mundane. A new school, or an issue with friends or something.”

Jason grit his teeth. “It isn’t. I don’t know how I know, but my gut is telling me it’s more than that. B, I want us to keep an eye on Paris. Something big happens next year, I know it.”

Bruce sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Funnily enough, I agree with you. Alfred, can you get up a monitoring system? we’ll keep it automatic until next year actually hits, and then I want someone personally checking up on Paris news at least once a month. Just in case.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was a year into HawkMoth. Marinette hadn’t written a single letter to Jason, but she kept getting the ones he wrote in 2005. When those ran out, she only had two from 2006 before they suddenly leapt to 2012. She guessed that that was because of the five year gap he had mentioned in his first letter, the infamous cigarette receipt.

She sat in her chair, reading the only two 2012 letters so far, the second of which had conveniently landed on her desk that morning. The first had arrived months ago, but she gave it a reread anyway.

yo, Mari.

I’m sorry I haven't written anything else after that horrible receipt, I was getting my life sorted out. things are better now. I have three annoying brothers, by the way. I told you about Dick, I think, in my early letters. Now I have two younger brothers too, Tim and Damian. Damian is a little shit, but oddly enough I think you’d like him. Oh yeah, I’m writing this in 2012 by the way. And yes, this small notepad paper was all I had. Don’t judge me. I guess I’ll answer some questions, to make up for my lack of letters lately. More up to date than what I told you back when I was a naive little kid anyway.

Yes, I have a motorcycle. It is my baby, and I have no idea how nine-year-old you was able to guess stuff about me so accurately. I am most definitely a bad boy, and I have five different leather jackets that I love to death. I’m trying to quit smoking. It’s bad for your lungs kid, don’t follow my example there. Also, I am so fucking proud of your taste in music. I know I had no sway in it, but the fact that Jagged Stone is your favorite musician instills so much older brother pride in me you don’t even know. My dad (You remember how I said I’m adopted, right? yeah that asshole. Don’t tell him I actually love him, but he’s still an asshole), he grew up with Jagged actually. He still refers to him as Jared, it’s surreal. I will definitely let you ride on my shoulders, even if you’re an adult when we meet. I give no shits. And ice cream is mandatory. Officially. I’m making it mandatory right now.

I hope you’re doing okay when this gets to you, Mari. And keep designing, the sketches you sent me were awesome! That’s some real talent. Don’t let it go to waste if it’s something you love.

Alright, the Doofuses are still staring at me so I better go before one of them snoops and sees the sappy stuff I wrote about them. You are sworn to secrecy about it too, Cupcake. No blabbing.

Jason Todd, Finally Kinda Okay.

Marinette chuckled at that, then put it aside to read the new one from that morning. It was shorter.

Marinette!

I just read your letter from 2013, holy shit let this reach you not long after that. You remember that 2012 letter where I was sappy about my family and shit? I hope you got that one first or else this is gonna be confusing. Anyway, this was written that same day. Are You Okay? If shit gets too bad, for whatever reason, you can always contact me. I know this damn letter thing won’t let me give you a specific way to contact me, not for lack of trying damn it, but I’ll say this: Bruce Wayne isn’t hard to get a hold of. Find a way to contact him if you need my help, and I will be close behind. He knows how to contact me. No matter what, Cupcake. I don’t care if you think you’re being stupid or dramatic or whatever lies run through your head. Contact him if you need it, and I will come to help you. I promise. Being thirteen sucks, trust me I know, so let me help you.

Jason Todd, Worried As Hell.

Marinette huffed, shaking her head. She wanted to take him up on that offer, but she couldn’t. She had just met the Guardian not too long ago, and he had made it clear that she couldn’t tell anybody about being Ladybug. Not even Jason. She needed to deal with this alone.

Scenes of bloated bodies filled her mind, all the people who had died just the previous day because of Siren. She had had to swim through so many corpses. So many dead, of all ages.

She rushed out onto her balcony, taking in deep breaths of fresh air and letting the sun’s rays warm her up and slowly bring her out of the haze of burning memory. She was fourteen already. She could handle this. Her childhood had died the moment she had been given the Earrings, ripped away from her too early. Her old self had died. Now she was Ladybug, she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and she was responsible for the fate of even more than just Paris. She couldn’t let herself fall. Not now, not ever.

The loud roaring of a motorcycle made her jump, and she ran to her railing just in time to see a gorgeous black and red bike come to a tire-screeching halt on the street right under her. The biker, she could tell he was large and covered head to toe in corded muscle even from her spot high above his head, slowly took off his helmet. Black hair with stark white bangs came into view, and startlingly deep blue eyes met hers. Marinette’s breath hitched; it was him. She could tell, his mere eye contact made her feel safe and warm and like… like home had found her. He gave her a roguish grin.

“Come on, Cupcake! I believe I promised you a shoulder ride and ice cream. And you gotta keep me from beating a certain old man into a bloody pulp!”

He knew. Marinette smiled widely, a laugh tearing itself from her throat. Hysteric, overjoyed, free. He knew, and it was okay. She didn’t even have to tell him. She took a few steps back, and then vaulted straight over her railing.

“Catch!”

Jason threw his helmet to the side, running forward just in time for her to land safely in his arms. He glared down at her, but his eyes held no heat. “That was incredibly reckless. I shouldn't be proud, but I am. Don’t do that ever again.”

Marinette giggled. “No promises.”

Jason set her down, picking up his helmet before opening the storage on his bike and tossing her a smaller, pink one. “Sorry it took so long. I wanted to come last year, as soon as I figured out what had made you send that concerning letter, but I was told that I would be an instant Akuma. But after what happened yesterday…” Jason shook his head solemnly. “I knew you’d need a break. Come on, Gotham actually has some amazing ice cream.”

“How are we gonna get to Gotham right away? how did you..?”

Marinette paused, Jason keeping his motorcycle’s storage open just long enough for her to see his Red Hood helmet.

“We got portals for that,” he responded nonchalantly, nobody was nearby to overhear anyway. Marinette looked up when he closed the storage compartment, putting her helmet on.

“Well. Then I’m glad you actually took my rant on the Gotham vigilantes to heart and used my designs, because your old mask was disgustingly ugly.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and waited until she was behind him on the bike before revving it and replying;

“Trust me, I know your feelings on it. Demon Spawn and Replacement teamed up to steal that letter and made copies. Now one is pinned to the fridge and I spent another several hours cleaning up the ones they posted over every inch of my apartment walls.”

“... I approve.”

#ml x dc #maribat #marinette #jasonette #platonic jasonette #mlb x dc #marinette dupain cheng #soulmate au #oneshot #Maribat 2020

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Doctor Who: Perfect 10? How Fandom Forgets the Dark Side of David Tennant’s Doctor

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As recently as September 2020 David Tennant topped a Radio Times poll of favourite Doctors. He beat Tom Baker in a 2006 Doctor Who Magazine poll, and was voted the best TV character of the 21st Century by the readers of Digital Spy. He was the Doctor during one of Doctor Who‘s critical and commercial peaks, bringing in consistently high ratings and a Christmas day audience of 13.31 million for ‘Voyage of the Damned’, and 12.27 million for his final episode, ‘The End of Time – Part Two’. He is the only other Doctor who challenges Tom Baker in terms of associated iconography, even being part of the Christmas idents on BBC One as his final episodes were broadcast. Put simply, the Tenth Doctor is ‘My Doctor’ for a huge swathe of people and David Tennant in a brown coat will be the image they think of when Doctor Who is mentioned.

In articles to accompany these fan polls, Tennant’s Doctor is described as ‘amiable’ in contrast to his predecessor Christopher Eccleston’s dark take on the character. Ten is ‘down-to-earth’, ‘romantic’, ‘sweeter’, ‘more light-hearted’ and the Doctor you’d most want to invite you on board the TARDIS. That’s interesting in some respects, because the Tenth Doctor is very much a Jekyll and Hyde character. He’s handsome, he’s charismatic, and travelling with him can be addictively fun, but he is also casually cruel, harshly dismissive, and lacking in self-awareness. His ego wants feeding, and once fed, can have destructive results.

That tension in the character isn’t due to bad writing or acting. Quite the contrary. Most Doctors have an element of unpleasantness to their behaviour. Ever since the First Doctor kidnapped Ian and Barbara, the character has been moving away from the entitled snob we met him as, but can never escape it completely.

Six and Twelve were both written to be especially abrasive, then soften as time went on (with Colin Baker having to do this through Big Finish audio plays rather than on telly). A significant difference between Twelve and Ten, though, is that Twelve questions himself more. Ten, to the very end, seems to believe his own hype.

The Tenth Doctor’s duality is apparent from his first full appearance in 2005’s ‘The Christmas Invasion’. Having quoted The Lion King and fearlessly ambled through the Sycorax ship in a dressing gown, he seems the picture of bonhomie, that lighter and amiable character shining through. Then he kills their leader. True, it was in self-defence, but it was lethal force that may not have been necessary. Then he immediately topples the British Prime Minister for a not dissimilar act of aggression. Immediately we see the Tenth Doctor’s potential for violence and moral grey areas. He’s still the same man who considered braining someone with a rock in ‘An Unearthly Child’.

Teamed with Rose Tyler, a companion of similar status to Tennant’s Doctor, they blazed their way through time and space with a level of confidence that bordered on entitlement, and a love that manifested itself negatively on the people surrounding them. The most obvious example in Series 2 is ‘Tooth and Claw’, where Russell T. Davies has them react to horror and carnage in the manner of excited tourists who’ve just seen a celebrity. This aloof detachment results in Queen Victoria establishing the Torchwood institute that will eventually split them apart. We see their blinkers on again in ‘Rise of the Cybermen’, when they take Mickey for granted. Rose and the Doctor skip along the dividing line between romance and hubris.

Then, in a Christmassy romp where the Doctor is grieving the loss of Rose, he commits genocide and Donna Noble sucker punches him with ‘I think you need somebody to stop you’. Well-meaning as this statement is, the Doctor treats it as a reason to reduce his next companion to a function rather than a person. Martha Jones is there to stop the Doctor, as far as he’s concerned. She’s a rebound companion. Martha is in love with him, and though he respects her, she’s also something of a prop.

This is the series in which the Doctor becomes human in order to escape the Family of Blood (adapted from a book in which he becomes human in order to understand his companion’s grief, not realising anyone is after him), and is culpable for all the death that follows in his wake. Martha puts up with a position as a servant and with regular racist abuse on her travels with this man, before finally realising at the end of the series that she needs to get out of the relationship. For a rebound companion, Martha withstands a hell of a lot, mostly caused by the Doctor’s failings.

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Series 4 develops the Doctor further, putting the Tenth’s Doctor’s flaws in the foreground more clearly. Donna is now travelling with him, and simply calls him out on his behaviour more than Rose or Martha did. Nonetheless the Doctor ploughs on, and in ‘Midnight’ we see him reduced to desperate and ugly pleas about how clever he is when he’s put in a situation he can’t talk himself out of.

Rose has also become more Doctor-like while trapped in another reality, and brutally tells Donna that she’s going to have to die in order to return to the original timeline (just as the Doctor tells Donna she’s going to have to lose her memories of travelling with him in order to live her previous life, even as she clearly asks him not to – and how long did the Doctor know he would have to do this for? It’s not like he’s surprised when Donna starts glitching). Tied into this is the Doctor’s belief in his own legend. In ‘The Doctor’s Daughter’ he holds a gun to Cobb’s head, then withdraws it and asks that they start a society based on the morals of his actions. You know, like a well-adjusted person does.

What’s interesting here is that despite presenting himself as ‘a man who never would’, the Doctor is a man who absolutely would. We’ve seen him do it. Even the Tenth Doctor, so keen to live up to the absolute moral ideals he espouses, killed the Sycorax leader and the Krillitanes, drove the Cybermen to die of despair, brought the Family of Blood to a quiet village and then disposed of them personally. But Tennant doesn’t play this as a useful lie, he plays it as something the Doctor absolutely believes in that moment, that he is a man who would not kill even as his daughter lies dead. It’s why his picking up a gun in ‘The End of Time’ has such impact. And it makes some sense that the Tenth Doctor would reject violence following a predecessor who regenerated after refusing to commit another double-genocide.

In the series finale ‘Journey’s End‘, Davros accuses the Doctor of turning his friends into weapons. This is because the Doctor’s friends have used weapons against the Daleks who – and I can’t stress this enough – are about to kill everyone in the entire universe. Fighting back against them seems pretty rational. Also – and again I can’t stress this enough – the Daleks are bad. Like, really bad. You won’t believe just how mindbogglingly bad they are. The Doctor has tried to destroy them several times by this point. Here, there isn’t the complication of double-genocide, and instead the very real threat of absolutely everyone in the universe dying. This accusation, that the Doctor turns people into weapons, should absolutely not land.

And yet, with the Tenth Doctor, it does. This is a huge distinction between him and the First Doctor, who had to persuade pacifists to fight for him in ‘The Daleks’.

In ‘The Sontaran Strategem’ Martha compares the Doctor to fire. It’s so blunt it almost seems not worth saying, but it’s the perfect analogy (especially for a show where fire is a huge part of the very first story). Yes, fire shines in dark places, yes it can be a beacon, but despite it being very much fire’s entire deal, people can forget that it burns. And fire has that mythical connection of being stolen from the gods and brought to humanity. The Time Lord Victorious concept fits the Tenth Doctor so well. Of all the Doctors, he’s the most ready to believe in himself as a semi-mythic figure.

Even when regenerating there’s a balance between hero and legend: the Tenth Doctor does ultimately save Wilfred Mott, but only after pointing out passionately how big a sacrifice he’s making. And then he goes to get his reward by meeting all his friends, only to glare at them from a distance. His last words are ‘I don’t want to go’, which works well as clearly being a poignant moment for the actor as well, but in the context of Doctor Who as a whole it renders Ten anomalous: no one else went this unwillingly. And yet, in interviews Russell T. Davies said it was important to end the story with ‘the Doctor as people have loved him: funny, the bright spark, the hero, the enthusiast’.

It’s fascinating then, that this is the Doctor who has been taken to heart by so many viewers because there’s such an extreme contrast between his good-natured front, his stated beliefs, and his actions. He clearly loves Rose and Donna, but leaves them with a compromised version of happiness. They go on extraordinary journeys only to end up somewhere that leaves them less than who they want to be, with Russell T. Davies being more brutally honest than Steven Moffat, who nearly always goes the romance route. Davies once said to Mark Lawson that he liked writing happy endings ‘because in the real world they don’t exist’, but his endings tend towards the bittersweet: Mickey and Martha end up together but this feels like they’re leftovers from the Doctor and Rose’s relationship. The Tenth Doctor doesn’t, as Nine does, go with a smile, but holding back tears.

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It’s a testament to how well written the Tenth Doctor is that the character has this light and shade, and with David Tennant’s immense likeability he can appeal to a wider audience as a result. It’s not surprise he wins all these polls, but I can’t help but feel that if the Doctor arrived and invited me on board the TARDIS, I’d want it to be anyone but Ten.

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