#in the most platonic way probably but still

[monkishes]

Friendly Fire | 02

genre: jungkookxreader, jiminxreader, college!au, best friend!au

summary: You and Jungkook had been friends for quite some time, and it seemed like everyone around you could sense the spark between you. They noticed the playful banter and affectionate gazes he directed your way. However, you were completely oblivious to it all, thinking that your relationship with Jungkook was purely platonic. Little did you know, things were about to get complicated. Enter Jimin, who developed a crush on you. This unexpected turn of events stirred up some jealousy in Jungkook. What will happen next?

word count: 6518

warnings: lots of jealousy, jk is oblivious to his feelings but very flirtatious, can’t keep his hands to himself, exams😖, oc has a fear of failing, strict parents

authors notes: okay this took me foreverrrrr and i really need to start writing the other fics but im just so excited for this one.. hope y’all enjoyyyyyy. this was unedited and kind of rushed so ignore any errors, i hate skl so much its taking up most of my time sorry guys

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Jungkook drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he watched you disappear into your apartment. He let out a long sigh, shifting in his seat. Something about the whole night had left him feeling off. It wasn't that he liked you—he didn't. You were just Y/N, his friend. But still, the thought of you getting all flustered around Jimin, of Jimin flirting with you, had irritated him more than he'd expected.

He turned the key in the ignition, the quiet hum of the engine filling the car as he pulled away from your building and headed toward his place. His mind kept drifting back to the way Jimin had teased him, how he'd made it seem like Jungkook had some claim over you. That wasn't it. He didn't care if you dated someone, it wasn't his business. But someone like Jimin? One of his closest friends? That was a different story.

Jungkook wasn't protective over you in the romantic sense, but there was a boundary there, unspoken but important. He didn't want his friends getting involved with you. It wasn't jealousy—it was more like... discomfort. He would never get involved with any of your friends. He knew Jimin could be flirty, and the last thing Jungkook wanted was for things to get messy between you and his circle.

As he drove through the quiet streets, the city lights flickering past, he tried to shake off the feeling. You'd probably think he was being ridiculous if you knew how much he'd overthought the whole thing. But you were his friend—he just wanted to make sure you weren't getting mixed up in something that would hurt you later.

By the time he pulled up in front of his apartment, the tension in his chest had eased slightly. He parked, leaned back in his seat for a moment, and stared out at the dimly lit street. His phone buzzed in the center console, and he picked it up, glancing at the screen.

Jimin.

Jungkook rolled his eyes but smirked a little, knowing exactly what the call was going to be about. He hit answer and put the phone on speaker as he stepped out of the car.

"Hey, man," Jimin's voice came through, casual but with that familiar teasing edge. "Did you drop off our girl safely?"

Jungkook kicked the door shut and walked toward his building, shaking his head. "She's not our girl. And yeah, I did."

There was a pause, then a laugh from Jimin's side. "Come on, don't tell me you're still pissed about earlier. I was just messing around."

Jungkook sighed as he unlocked his apartment door and stepped inside, flicking on the lights. "I'm not pissed. Just—" He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want you messing with her."

"Messing with her?" Jimin repeated, sounding amused. "Dude, I wasn't even serious. Y/N's cool, but I know you're protective of her."

"I'm not protective," Jungkook said quickly, dropping his keys onto the kitchen counter. "It's just... she's my friend. I don't want her getting involved with any of you guys and then having things go south."

Jimin chuckled, clearly not taking it as seriously as Jungkook. "Man, you're making it sound like I'm planning to date her or something. I was just having a little fun."

Jungkook frowned, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, well, I don't want her to get the wrong idea. She doesn't know you like I do. You flirt with everyone, and she might take it seriously."

There was a beat of silence before Jimin responded, his tone a bit more thoughtful now. "So what, you're saying she's off-limits?"

Jungkook let out a frustrated breath, trying to find the right words. "I'm not saying she's off-limits, I'm just saying... she's not like other girls you flirt with. She's—she's Y/N, okay? She's not into that kind of stuff."

"You sound like you're her big brother or something," Jimin teased, though his tone was more serious now. "Look, I get it. You're looking out for her. But, Jungkook, if you don't have feelings for her, why do you care so much if she ends up liking one of us?"

Jungkook froze for a second, caught off guard by the question. He hadn't really thought about it that way before. It wasn't like he had feelings for you, but the idea of you dating one of his friends—especially Jimin—just didn't sit right with him.

"I don't care if she dates someone," Jungkook said finally, his voice a bit tighter than he intended. "I just don't want her to get hurt."

Jimin was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "Okay, okay, I get it. I'll back off. I didn't realize you were this serious about it."

Jungkook relaxed a little, relieved that Jimin was taking him seriously now. "Thanks, man. I just don't want things to get weird."

"Fair enough," Jimin agreed. "But you might want to figure out why you care so much, 'cause from where I'm sitting, it's looking a little sus."

Jungkook scoffed, rolling his eyes even though Jimin couldn't see him. "There's nothing sus about it. I just don't want things to get complicated."

"Whatever you say, bro," Jimin replied, clearly not convinced but willing to let it go for now. "Anyway, I'll catch you later. Try not to overthink it too much, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jungkook muttered, ending the call and tossing his phone onto the couch.

As he sat down, the conversation played over in his mind. He wasn't overthinking it—he was just being a good friend. Looking out for you. That's all it was.

Jungkook stretched out on his bed, tossing his phone back and forth between his hands, his mind finally starting to quiet down.

His phone buzzed, and he saw your name pop up on the screen. Smiling, he answered, putting it on speaker as he lay back on his pillows.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice casual.

"Hey, Jeon," you replied, sounding a little tired but upbeat. "You home?"

"Yeah, just got back a bit ago. You?"

"Yup, finally in bed," you said with a sigh. "You think Professor Kim is really gonna hit us with that pop quiz tomorrow? I saw him smiling way too much in class today. Suspicious."

Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head. "He's definitely planning something. That guy enjoys watching us struggle."

You groaned dramatically. "Ugh, I'm so not prepared for that. I barely understood anything from last week's lecture."

"Did you even take notes?" Jungkook teased, knowing full well you tended to zone out in class.

"I did! Sort of...," you trailed off, and he could practically see you rolling your eyes. "I'll just copy yours tomorrow. You've got me, right?"

Jungkook laughed softly, the familiar ease of your conversations calming him down. "Yeah, yeah. I've got you. You always say that and then somehow ace the test anyway."

"Not without your help," you mumbled, and Jungkook could hear you settling deeper into your blankets, your voice getting softer.

"Anyways, you're coming to watch me play tomorrow right?" he perks up, trying to lighten the mood.

"There's no way I'd miss it."

He laughs, suddenly feeling giddy at the prospect of you coming to watch him. "Good, if you didn't come I would be sooo mad at you."

You giggle softly at that idea, Jungkook never gets mad, at least not at you. "Yeah, okay Kook." you teased, but your voice was trailing off, your exhaustion suddenly taking over.

Jungkook notices this, a soft smile playing on his face. "Alright, go to sleep. You're gonna need energy for that test tomorrow."

"Ugh, don't remind me," you mumbled, already half asleep. "Night, Jungkook."

"Night," he replied, waiting until he heard the soft click of the call ending before tossing his phone onto the bed beside him.

The next day, you and Jungkook found yourselves sitting in your usual spots near the back of the classroom, waiting for Professor Kim to start class. The room was buzzing with chatter, students exchanging notes and nervously talking about the possibility of a quiz. You were slouched over your notebook, flipping through pages, trying to cram in last-minute review, while Jungkook sat beside you, far too relaxed for your liking.

"You think we're actually getting that quiz?" you whispered, glancing over at him.

Jungkook smirked, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Oh, it's not just a quiz," he said, his voice low so only you could hear. "It's a full-on test. I saw him carrying in a stack of papers when I came in."

You groaned, dropping your head dramatically onto your notebook. "I'm so screwed."

Jungkook chuckled, nudging your arm with his elbow. "You should've studied with me."

"Don't even," you muttered, lifting your head just as Professor Kim walked in, shuffling the dreaded stack of test papers in his hands. Your stomach dropped.

"Good morning, class," Professor Kim announced with a suspiciously cheerful tone. "I hope you're all ready for today's test."

You glanced at Jungkook, who gave you a smug look, as if to say I told you so. You shot him a glare in return.

As Professor Kim passed out the tests, Jungkook leaned over slightly. "Just stay calm, Y/N. You'll be fine."

"I'll be calm when this is over," you whispered back, staring at the paper in front of you like it was a death sentence.

The room soon fell silent, except for the occasional shuffling of papers and the soft scratching of pens. You took a deep breath, flipping through the pages of the test, immediately feeling the pressure mount. The first few questions were doable, but by the time you hit the midpoint, it was like the words on the page were written in a foreign language.

You glanced over at Jungkook. He was scribbling away confidently, barely pausing as he moved through the questions with ease. Of course, he looked completely unbothered, like this was just another walk in the park. You could even see the faintest smirk playing on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed, and he must have felt your gaze because he glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow. When he saw the look of panic on your face, his smirk widened, and he gave a subtle shake of his head, clearly amused by your struggle.

You mouthed, "Help me!" exaggerating your expression for effect.

Jungkook chuckled softly, shaking his head again. He leaned slightly closer and whispered under his breath, "Just focus."

You rolled your eyes, going back to your test. But focusing was the last thing you could do. Every time you got stuck on a question, you'd glance over at Jungkook again, and every time, he was still breezing through the test, like he was taking a casual quiz and not a full-blown assessment. It was infuriating.

After a few minutes of watching you squirm, Jungkook finally tilted his paper just slightly, making sure only you could see the edge of it. It wasn't enough to give away the answers, but it was enough to show you the format, which was a tiny bit helpful.

You caught on immediately, shooting him a grateful look. He just winked at you, clearly enjoying the situation way too much.

The rest of the test dragged on painfully, and by the time you reached the last page, your brain felt like mush. Meanwhile, Jungkook had already finished and was lounging back in his chair, stretching lazily as if the test had been no big deal. He shot you another amused glance, raising an eyebrow as if to say, See? Easy.

You were dying to toss something at him.

Finally, Professor Kim called time, and you let out a long breath as you handed in your test. Jungkook was waiting for you at the door, his hands shoved into his pockets, an infuriating grin on his face.

"So," he said casually as you walked out of the classroom together, "how was it?"

You shot him a look. "You're enjoying this way too much."

He chuckled, nudging your shoulder lightly. "Hey, you're the one who didn't study."

"I was going to, but you didn't exactly offer to help," you shot back, still frustrated by how easy it had been for him.

"I told you to stay calm," he said with a playful grin, clearly unfazed by your annoyance.

You groaned again, but even you couldn't stay mad at him for long. It was classic Jungkook—breezing through everything with a smile on his face while you struggled just to keep up. And despite yourself, you couldn't help but laugh a little as the two of you walked down the hallway together.

"Next time, you're helping me study," you declared, glancing up at him.

"Deal," he said, his grin widening. "But only if you promise to take better notes."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I'm starting to think you enjoy watching me suffer."

"Maybe just a little," he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

As you and Jungkook made your way down the hall, the usual buzz of campus life surrounded you. Students were rushing between classes, chatting in groups, or buried in their phones, but you were still thinking about the test you'd just barely survived.

Jungkook, of course, was in a good mood, walking beside you with that annoyingly smug look on his face. Just as you were about to tease him about how much he was enjoying your misery, a familiar voice called out.

"Yo, Jungkook! Y/N!" Taehyung appeared, striding toward the two of you, his usual carefree grin plastered on his face. Jimin was right behind him, looking effortlessly cool as always.

"Hey," Jungkook greeted them, stopping in his tracks as they reached you. "What's up?"

Taehyung grinned, leaning against the lockers. "Just heading to class, but I saw you two and figured we'd say hi."

Jimin's eyes landed on you, his gaze lingering for a second longer than usual. He smiled warmly. "Hey, Y/N," he said, his voice smooth. "Heard you had a test, how'd it go?

You sighed dramatically, already feeling the weight of your grade pulling you down. "Oh, it was awful. I know I failed."

Jimin chuckled, stepping a little closer. "Really? I can't imagine you struggling with anything. You probably did better than you think."

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. Jimin was always friendly, but today there was a slight edge to it, something more than the usual casual banter. His eyes flicked to Jungkook briefly before landing back on you.

"I doubt it," you laughed, feeling a little flustered by the compliment. "But thanks for the confidence boost."

Jimin smirked, his eyes still locked on you. "Anytime."

Just then, Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the shoulder. "We're heading to the art building. Where are you guys off to?"

"I'm going to bio," you said, glancing at your phone to check the time. "It's across campus, though."

"I can walk you—" Jungkook starts, your gaze shifting towards him, but he immediately gets interrupted by Jimin's voice.

Jimin perked up, a slight glint of interest in his eyes. "Really? I'm heading that way too. I can walk with you, if you want."

You smiled, appreciating the offer. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

Before you could say anything else, Jungkook, who had been watching the whole exchange, nodded. "Alright, then. You guys go ahead," he said, his tone relaxed. "I'll catch you later, Y/N."

His easygoing attitude surprised you, but you figured he was just in a good mood after breezing through the test. He turned to Taehyung, and the two of them started walking in the opposite direction.

"Bye, Jungkook!" you called, waving after him. He shot you a quick wave without looking back, too busy joking around with Taehyung.

Jimin gave you a nod, gesturing for you to lead the way. "Shall we?"

You began walking at a comfortable pace, a comfortable silence settling down amongst the both of you. Or at least, you didn't mind the silence.

You could feel him glancing towards your face every so often, and when you turned to look, he just smiled innocently, turning his gaze straight ahead.

The silence started to grow awkward, until Jimin cleared his throat, as if preparing to bring up something he'd been thinking about for a while. "So.." he began, "Do you like Jungkook?"

Laughing at the absurdity of that idea, you meet his eyes once more, "What?" you said, your voice still laced with laughter. "No way, Jungkook's just a friend. Why would you ask that?"

Jimin smiled but didn't meet your eyes this time, running a hand through his hair, making him seem both casual but also nervous. "I don't know," he shrugged, he voice growing quieter. "It seems like he has a little crush on you. The way he looks at you, how he's always around you.."

You blinked, the idea catching you completely off guard. "No, me and him are just friends. He's like that with everyone." you replied, shaking your head firmly.

Jimin gave you a knowing smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Is he, though?" his tone was playful, but you suddenly grew irritated. You were sick of people assuming that someone had a crush on the other, or you were dating, when it was clearly not the case.

"He's like a brother to me, Jimin."

He chuckled, his gaze finally locking onto yours, his smile widening as he tilted his head. "A brother, huh?" he questions, never taking his eyes off you.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you pick up the pace, leaving Jimin a little further behind.

He immediately picks up his pace too, catching back up to you. "Hey, relax, I'll drop it." his hand rests on your shoulder as his playful tone from earlier drops, his voice now laced with sincerity. "I was just joking, Y/N. I didn't mean to offend you."

"I know. I'm not offended." you mumble, trying to appear as unbothered as you can, your hands reaching to fumble with the straps of your bag.

"Okay," his hand drops from your shoulder, resting at his side once again. "Besides, even if Jungkook has a crush, it's not like you don't have other options." He finishes, quite obviously referring to himself.

You laughed again, the annoyance fading away ever so slightly. "I'll keep that in mind, Jimin. But for now I'm happy with being just friends."

He smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "Fair enough. But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

Bio dragged on at a painfully slow pace. The steady tick of the clock became your only focus, each second pulling your attention away from the jumble of textbooks and papers spread across your desk. The classroom was unusually quiet today, so every sound created was amplified; the tapping and clicking of pens, the rustling of sheets of papers, the occasional murmur of whispered conversations.

Your leg bounced restlessly beneath the table, anxiety suddenly overcoming you. Not only were you struggling in chemistry, you were struggling in biology too. Your eyes wandered to the people in the class, who got on with their tasks with ease. Even with a textbook open in front of you, you were confused.

You sighed inwardly, frustration settling in. There's no one else to blame but yourself, of course. After all the times you zoned out in class, and never payed attention, how could you even expect to understand the basics? The realisation hit you like a wave, a reminder that when you go home, you'd have no choice but to study.

Eventually, the hour passed after a long time of blankly staring at the ticking clock. You immediately grabbed a hold of your belongings, stuffing them into your bag and throwing it over your shoulder before exiting the room. You let out a sigh, a yawn escaping your body. Right now, all you wanted to do was take a nap. Luckily for you, it was the end of the day, you could finally leave.

You suddenly felt nauseous, a sickening feeling bubbling within your stomach as you remembered how much you struggled in not one but two classes. The image of your parents disappointment haunted you as you stormed into your locker, yanking it open and tossing your books inside with more force than necessary. You slammed it shut, your frustration rising.

As you did so, Jungkook appeared out of nowhere to the right of your locker, his eyes fixated on you with scrunched up brows.

You sighed again, glancing once towards his face and again towards the exit. Your legs dragged you towards the huge doors, but Jungkook was quick to follow behind you.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he walks up in front of you, gesturing towards his clothing. You noticed his attire from the morning was discarded, and instead replaced with the jersey he wore during his basketball games.

"Fuck, Kook, I completely forgot." you groaned, gripping your temples in frustration.

"Damn, Y/N. I reminded you everyday for the past week." His tone was serious, but you could catch the hint of a joke laced within his voice as he playfully shook his head.

It didn't take him long to notice your unusual state. Jungkook leaned forward, softly grabbing onto your shoulder with one hand while the other reached up to your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb across. "Whats wrong? You okay?" he asks, concern laced across his features.

"Nothing, I'm just tired." you admitted, although it wasn't the whole truth, it was still something.

His eyes look over your face, studying you. His hands now firmly rested on your shoulders. "You're a bad liar, Y/N. What happened? And tell me the truth."

"It's dumb."

"It's about that test, isn't it?"

You blinked in surprise. How did he know? You nodded.

"I'm sure you didn't do that bad," he reassured, squeezing your shoulders gently. "You're smart, Y/N. Cheer up." he playfully patted your cheeks, causing you to stifle a laugh, a smile forming on your face.

"Do you wanna go home?" he asked, his voice softening, a slight frown tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Well yes, but I wanna watch you play more." you say as his hands tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You noticed his expression brighten just a little at your words.

He grinned, moving to the side and ruffling your hair, messing it up again before then slinging an arm over your shoulder. "Come on then, we don't have much time," he says. "I'll win for you, don't worry."

You round the corner and make your way onto the court, where people are already seated and the teams are coming out of their rooms.

"JK, we're on, hurry up!" a voice calls, presumably another one of his members, he lets go of you and tells you to take a seat before running off into the court, but you don't miss how he looks towards you whenever he can, sending a smile your way, as if to make sure you were okay.

The game was intense from the start. The gym echoed with the sounds of sneakers squeaking against polished floors, the thud of the basketball hitting the court, and the excited cheers from the crowd. You sat in the bleachers, your bag shoved under your seat, feeling oddly at ease despite the earlier stress.

You found yourself sitting next to a girl who had been at the game last week, her face vaguely familiar. She wore a jersey that wasn't quite Jungkook's team colors, but she cheered loudly every time the ball changed hands.

"Hey, didn't I see you here last time?" she asked, leaning over slightly to talk. Her voice was warm, friendly, like someone who just knew how to make conversations less awkward.

"Yeah, probably," you said with a small smile, glancing at her. "I try to come to most of Jungkook's games."

"Ah, you're here for JK?" Her eyebrows raised, and there was a playful lilt to her voice. "Friend, girlfriend, or just a fan?"

"Friend," you clarified, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed the simplicity of that label.

She laughed, a soft chuckle that wasn't mocking but understanding. "Got it. I'm Soojin, by the way. I come to watch my cousin—he's on the other team, but don't tell anyone." She mimed zipping her lips.

You laughed a little at that. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

As the game went on, you and Soojin fell into a comfortable rhythm of conversation, punctuated by bursts of cheering and groaning whenever something exciting happened on the court. She was quick-witted and easy to talk to, and for the first time all day, you felt yourself genuinely relaxing.

"Okay, but Jungkook's insane, right?" Soojin said during a timeout, gesturing toward the court where Jungkook was wiping his face with a towel. "The way he just—" she mimicked a crossover dribble and a jump shot, "makes it look so effortless. Honestly, I'd trip over my own feet trying to do half of that."

You laughed, nodding. "Yeah, he's pretty crazy. He's been like that since we met, though. He's good at everything... it's honestly annoying sometimes."

Soojin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You guys must be close, huh? That's cute. So, what's it like having Jeon Jungkook as your personal hype man?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the small smile from forming. "It's chaotic, to say the least. He's super competitive, even outside of basketball. One time, we had this dumb bet over who could eat more tteokbokki, and—"

"Wait, let me guess," Soojin interrupted, grinning. "He demolished you, didn't he?"

You shook your head, laughing. "Nope. He thought he could out-eat me, but I totally won. He ended up lying on the floor groaning about how he was 'never eating again.'"

Soojin laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. "That's amazing. He doesn't seem like the type to lose, especially at something like that."

"Oh, trust me," you said, leaning in conspiratorially. "He's not. He demanded a rematch a week later. Still lost, though."

The two of you dissolved into laughter, the tension of your earlier frustration completely forgotten. You were so caught up in the moment that you almost didn't notice when the crowd suddenly erupted into cheers.

The score was neck-and-neck, and every pass, dribble, and shot was met with thunderous applause or groans of disappointment. You found yourself leaning forward, completely absorbed in the game despite your earlier indifference.

With less than a minute left on the clock, Jungkook's team had the ball. The crowd was on its feet, chanting and clapping as he darted past defenders with effortless precision. You held your breath as he leapt for a three-pointer just as the buzzer sounded.

The ball arced beautifully through the air before sinking through the net with a satisfying swish. The gym erupted into cheers, the sound deafening as Jungkook's teammates swarmed him in celebration. He raised his arms in victory, then turned toward the stands, his eyes locking onto yours. He didn't just smile this time—he winked.

"Oh my god," Soojin said, clutching her chest dramatically. "That was smooth. I'm swooning, and it wasn't even aimed at me. Are you sure you're just friends? Because the way he keeps looking at you..."

You shook your head, laughing but feeling that familiar warmth creep up your neck again. "He's so extra sometimes."

"Extra? Girl, that was a whole movie moment," Soojin countered. "You should be flattered."

At that moment, Jungkook jogged over to the sidelines, drenched in sweat but beaming with pride. He waved at you as he approached, clearly pleased with himself.

"Well? What'd you think?" he asked, leaning on the railing in front of the bleachers.

"You were decent," you said, trying to sound unimpressed.

"Decent?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing in mock offense. "That was a game-winning three-pointer. You should be bowing down right now."

"Don't push your luck, Kook," you teased, though your grin gave you away.

"You did okay," Soojin chimed in, smirking. "But I think Y/N's still more impressed by the tteokbokki story."

Jungkook frowned, his ears turning slightly pink. "You told her about that?"

"Of course," you said, laughing. "It's one of my best Jungkook stories."

He groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Great. Now she thinks I'm a loser."

"Not at all," Soojin said, winking at you. "It's kind of endearing, actually."

Jungkook peeked through his fingers, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the two of you. "Y/N, let's go before you embarrass me further."

You laughed, grabbing your bag and standing up. "Fine, fine. See you around, Soojin."

"Definitely," she said, giving you a knowing smile. "Oh, and Jungkook?"

"Yeah?" he said, pausing mid-step.

"Good game," she said, grinning. "But maybe work on that tteokbokki endurance."

Jungkook groaned again, dragging you toward the exit as you burst into laughter.

The cool evening air hit your face as you both left the gym, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the crowded court. Jungkook still looked a little flustered, though he tried to play it cool, brushing a hand through his damp hair.

"I can't believe you told her about the tteokbokki thing," he muttered, shaking his head.

You smirked, bumping his arm lightly. "Oh, come on, it's a great story. Besides, you challenged me. What did you expect? For me to lose gracefully?"

"Gracefully? I expected you to lose, period," he quipped, shooting you a playful glare. "But apparently, you're hiding a black hole for a stomach. It's unfair."

He grumbled, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a reluctant smile. "Anyway, who was she? You seemed pretty chummy with her for someone you just met."

"Her name's Soojin. She's here to watch her cousin—apparently, he's on the other team. She's nice, though. Funny, too."

Jungkook shot you a look, his brows furrowing. "Wait, hold on. You were sitting next to someone rooting for the other team? And you didn't fight her?"

You snorted. "What am I supposed to do? Start a bleacher brawl? She wasn't obnoxious or anything. Plus, she said you're good. So, technically, she's on your side."

"She said that?" Jungkook perked up, his chest puffing out a little. "Well, I mean, she's not wrong."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't let it go to your head, Jeon."

The two of you strolled toward the bike racks, where Jungkook had locked up his old, slightly scuffed-up mountain bike. He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, then paused, looking at you thoughtfully.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, his voice gentler now. "You seemed a little off earlier. Was it the test?"

The concern in his eyes made your stomach flip, and you hesitated for a moment before shrugging. "Yeah, the test sucked, and so did bio. I'll survive, though. No big deal."

Jungkook frowned, clearly not buying it. "Y/N, if it's stressing you out, let's do something about it. I'm serious."

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "What, you're going to tutor me? You don't even know the difference between mitosis and meiosis."

"Hey," he protested, feigning offense. "I could learn! For you, anyway." He tilted his head, studying your face. "But right now, I'm thinking food might help more than biology. You eaten yet?"

Your stomach growled in response, betraying you instantly. Jungkook's grin widened.

"Thought so," he said. "Come on, let's go get something."

"Now? Aren't you supposed to celebrate with your team or something?"

"Celebrate what? Another win? Boring," he said, waving it off. "Besides, I'd rather hang out with you. Let's go."

Before you could argue, he unlocked his bike and gestured for you to hop onto the back. "I'll give you a ride."

"You're kidding," you said, eyeing the bike skeptically.

"Do I look like I'm kidding? Come on, I've done this a million times."

Reluctantly, you climbed onto the back, holding onto his shoulders for balance. "If I fall and break something, I'm suing you."

Jungkook laughed, his voice full of mischief. "Relax. I'm a pro."

Minutes later, you found yourself seated at a small street food stand, the warm glow of hanging lights illuminating the bustling night market. The smell of grilled meat, savory pancakes, and spicy tteokbokki filled the air, making your mouth water.

Jungkook ordered for both of you, insisting he knew the best dishes. When the food arrived, he slid a steaming plate of tteokbokki toward you with a smirk. "Round two?"

You burst out laughing. "You're kidding."

"Dead serious," he said, picking up a piece with his chopsticks and holding it out to you. "Unless you're scared?"

"You wish," you shot back, leaning in to take the bite. The spicy-sweet sauce burst across your taste buds, and you couldn't help the satisfied hum that escaped. "Okay, this is really good."

"Told you," Jungkook said, grabbing a bite for himself. "But don't get too comfortable. I'm winning this time."

The two of you dug in, the conversation flowing as easily as the food disappeared. Jungkook was in his element, cracking jokes and teasing you relentlessly, but there was a warmth beneath his playful banter that made your heart flutter.

At one point, he leaned in closer, his dark eyes catching yours in the soft light. "You know, I like this. Just... hanging out. No stress, no tests. Just us."

You felt your cheeks heat up, but you managed a teasing grin. "Are you getting sentimental on me, Jeon?"

"Maybe," he admitted, his smile turning softer. "What can I say? You bring it out of me."

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the noise of the market dimming as you held his gaze. Then Jungkook broke the spell with a sudden grin. "But I'm still beating you at this tteokbokki challenge. Watch."

"Dream on," you said, laughing as you picked up another piece. The night stretched on, the stress of the day forgotten as you and Jungkook filled it with laughter, teasing, and just a hint of something more.

As the night wore on, the little food stall grew quieter, but your laughter with Jungkook only got louder. He was in rare form, his wit sharp, his expressions dramatic. Every time he popped another piece of tteokbokki into his mouth, he acted like it was some Herculean feat, groaning as though the spice might defeat him.

"You're such a baby," you teased, shaking your head. "It's not that spicy."

"Oh, says the queen of spice tolerance," he shot back, his voice muffled as he reached for his drink. "Not all of us are walking fire-breathing dragons."

"Dragons are cool," you said with a shrug. "Take it as a compliment."

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. "You know, Y/N, you've got a weird way of flirting."

Your chopsticks froze mid-air, and you nearly choked on your own saliva. "Flirting?" you sputtered, your voice jumping an octave. "Who said I was flirting?"

"Not me," he said smoothly, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "But if you were, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

You stared at him, trying to gauge if he was being serious or just messing with you. His expression gave nothing away, though the slight tilt of his head and the way his gaze lingered on your face made your heart race.

"Well, don't hold your breath," you shot back, trying to sound unaffected. "You're not that special."

"Ouch," he said, clutching his chest dramatically. "Here I am, taking you out, feeding you, carrying this entire night with my charm, and this is the thanks I get?"

"Carrying the night?" You snorted. "You're delusional. If anything, I'm the one entertaining you."

He grinned, leaning back in his chair as if to concede. "Fine, we'll call it even. But seriously," his tone softened, his playful demeanor giving way to something more sincere. "I'm glad we did this. You seemed so stressed earlier, and it's nice to see you smiling again."

You felt a pang of warmth at his words, his genuine concern breaking through the teasing façade. "Thanks, Kook. I needed this," you admitted, surprising even yourself with how honest you sounded.

"Well, you've got me," he said, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Whenever you need to forget about the world—or just eat your weight in tteokbokki—I'm your guy."

You smiled, unable to help the way your heart seemed to flip at his words. "Careful, Jeon. You keep saying sweet things like that, and people might think you're trying to charm me."

"Trying?" He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward again with a wicked grin. "Y/N, I don't need to try."

The heat in your cheeks betrayed you, but you refused to let him see you flustered. "Wow, your confidence is unmatched. Maybe you should focus less on flirting and more on finishing your plate," you said, gesturing to the food in front of him.

He laughed, grabbing his chopsticks again. "Fine, but don't think you're off the hook. I'm keeping track of how much you've eaten. We're still in competition mode."

"Oh, please. I already won," you retorted, taking another bite to prove your point.

The banter carried on, light and easy, as the plates slowly emptied. By the time the last piece of tteokbokki was gone, you both leaned back in your chairs, letting out identical groans of satisfaction.

"I think I've reached my limit," you said, patting your stomach dramatically. "I might actually regret this tomorrow."

"Regret?" Jungkook scoffed, reaching for his drink. "This is the opposite of regret. This is living." He took a sip, eyeing you with a teasing grin. "Admit it—you're impressed by my ability to pick the perfect late-night spot."

You gave him a look, smirking. "Impressed? Not quite. But I'll give you points for good taste."

"Wow, tough crowd," he said, shaking his head with mock disappointment. "Fine, next time, you pick the place. But don't forget, you owe me now."

"I owe you?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"

"For saving you from your stress-induced meltdown," he replied with a grin. "And for treating you to this gourmet feast."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the smile creeping onto your face. "Fine. I guess I do owe you. But don't let it go to your head, Jeon."

"It's already there," he said, tapping the side of his head.

The two of you stood, Jungkook grabbing the tray of empty plates to return to the stall owner. As he turned back to you, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms, he cocked his head slightly.

"You good to walk home, or do you need me to carry you?" he teased, but his voice held a hint of genuine concern.

"I can manage," you replied, brushing off his offer.

"Sure about that?" he asked, stepping closer with a playful grin. "You look like you're one wrong step away from rolling down the street."

You smacked his arm lightly, laughing. "Don't push your luck."

The two of you started down the street, the cool breeze brushing against your skin. The city had quieted down, leaving only the faint hum of streetlights and the occasional distant chatter of other late-night diners.

"You're not in a rush to get back, are you?" Jungkook asked casually, glancing over at you.

You shook your head. "Not really. Why?"

He hesitated for a second, then shrugged. "Figured you might want to hang out a little longer. My place isn't far from here."

Your heart skipped at the casual invitation, though he said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Your place?"

"Yeah," he said, his tone light but his gaze steady. "It's nothing fancy, but I've got snacks, a comfy couch, and a killer view from the balcony. You can unwind for a bit before heading home."

You hesitated, glancing up at him. There was no pressure in his expression, just a quiet sincerity that made it impossible to say no.

"Okay," you said finally, smiling. "Lead the way, Jeon."

His grin widened, and he reached out, giving your hand a quick tug to follow him. "Prepare to be amazed. Or, you know, mildly impressed."

taglist: @blackswan446 @tesfayera @rrosiitas (comment/msg to be added)

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ platonic, gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

・Boyd already had a son, but Ellis was too angry at him. He barely had anything to do with his father, the Sheriff, no matter how hard Fatima pushed Ellis

・You had entered Fromville by yourself; it was supposed to be your first adventure by yourself and now you were trapped in HELL.

・For the first few days, you were a tiny bit catatonic; anxiety, along with the whole "What could go wrong!" from your family was really messing with your head

・Fatima was the person who showed you a lot of kindness, patience and ways of looking at the town.

・But you came here by yourself, no link to anyone and you felt like 1. an outsider and 2. like the people wouldn't care if anything happened to you

・That was until you were too late getting back to your home in town, the monsters had already pulled up and were doing their creepy business.

・Boyd threw himself straight into action, flinging open the Sheriff Station/Post Office door and grabbing your arm.

"What are you doing out here?! It's DARK!"

"No, I no, I no-"

"So you were trying to get yourself kILLED?!"

"No! I just got carried away at the edge of the forest-"

"The EDGE of the WHAT NOW!"

"No Sheriff, it's okay. It's not like I have any ties here and the probability of me surviving is very low... so..."

・It was in that moment that Boyd decided to unconsiously adopt you.

・He would never let you feel alone again.

・Everyone was going to know you, know your importance.

・Whenever you give your opinion during matters (because you are now in the inner circle - you know more than the regular citizens),

Boyd always holds up a hand before you can talk, "No. You are not putting yourself as bait. Not again."

・Kenny likes you a lot, romantically? Maybe. He's still mixed up about the whole Kristi and Marielle thing.

・Then again, it's not like anyone was going to approach the Sheriff's kid with a romantic offer. Boyd is deeply protective of you.

・Both Jade and Randall have their eyes on you.

・They think you're very unique, smart but also have a boldness that this town had brought out in you.

・Plus you never let either of their quips go without an insult straight back at them

・Ellis, who hadn't been in town for a while, was surprised. A little hurt, but c'mon - deep down he knew he could never be replaced.

・Boyd always makes sure that you're okay, especially when it's just you two at the station. There's one bedroom/cell type place.

・So Boyd made another area just for you, where you had your own bed, a sheet to pull over for privacy and room for all your little trinkets.

・Sometimes he prefers you to sleep in the cell, especially when there's been an incident with the Monsters.

・To get him to open up, you made him play truth or dare once and it was the most fun he's ever had in a while.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Two damaged individuals who attach themselves to each other

"Come Near Them And I Will Fucking End You" (Boyd) x "You Heard The Old Timer!" (You, with the constant old person joke)

You bring him things you find interesting like bugs, rocks, things Mrs Chen let you go look for in the lost and found...

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Found Family

Trustworthy Male Mentor

Father Figure Who Doesn't Realise He's Basically Raising You Until You Call Him Dad

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Beautiful Boy by John Lennon (this doesn't negate from anyone's representation as a woman or non-binary. it's just a beautiful song)

Me and the Devil by Soap and Skin (the original fits here perfectly too)

A Narnian Lullaby by Harry Gregson Williams

[epickiya722]

Now if I were to say which epilogue was my favorite from least to most favorite so far?

Down at the bottom is Panda's. It's not even because it's about Panda (I'm rather indifferent when it comes to Panda, actually). It's just... okay I'll say it, Yuta having grandkids and being the Gojo clan head is like nothing I care for. Never really cared for the "next generation kids" thing like that. And Yuta coming the head is shocking but didn't excite me.

I'll be honest. I wouldn't have minded Panda getting an epilogue. What I would have liked to see more of is his relationship with Inumaki and Maki as they were always like a trio. Preferably maybe just Inumaki given he didn't have a lot going for him in the story like that compared to everyone else. I would have also liked to see how was Panda coping time after Yaga's death.

Next, would be Ozawa's. But, I actually enjoyed her epilogue. I'll admit I feel a little happy about somewhat right about predicting she'll meet Yuji and they would talk. It was actually nice and given that Yuji is my favorite, it was nice seeing my boy happy and talking about wanting to build a snowman again! And before anyone ask, no, I don't think it's "canon". (I've been through 431 of MHA and I still see that chapter that could be interpreted as platonic.)

If I were to add/or change something, because everything else was fine really, is Yuko having a self-reflection about herself.

In second place, I got to give it to Nobara here. Her mother was teased before and I'm glad we actually did get to see her and Nobara made use of the information Gojo left her (knowing her mother's whereabouts). I'm glad Nobara did get to satisfy some bit of that possible curiosity she had of her mother and yet still didn't play the "forgiveness" card. Even better, the fear on Mamasaki's face satisfying when Grandma Kugisaki showed up.

Still, I wished we had gotten her reuniting with Saori and Fumi, but I liked the epilogue a lot!

That would leave Uraume's in first place for me. I did love seeing their first meeting with Sukuna. It was both a little funny and wholesome. It is so like Sukuna to crush an ice house, need a replacement, come across someone with ice powers and be like "You're my fridge now". Still, shows how much potential he probably did see in Uraume and took them under his wing in his usual bad guy way. He was impressed by the way Uraume prepared meat. Think about how he usually acts impressed by people. Through their fighting skills. Uraume didn't have to fight to show Sukuna something impressive. They managed to do something that made him go "Oh, wow" without fighting.

The epilogue really was everything I could have asked for and more.

☆

Overall, I could wish for more or whatever, but I'm just more happy to have some things to be happy about. Okay, I didn't get this in the manga that I wanted, but I got this which I liked!

That's the thing for me. I may be dissatisfied with something but I do like to focus on the positive. That way I'm still enjoying myself.

There should be a balance. Yes, you can point out whatever you think is a flaw, but at the same time, do also point out what you enjoy.

You can feel how you want to about these epilogues. Right now, my feelings about them are just... they were bonus stories. They were entirely bad, they're not the worst things in the world. That's not to say they're flawless, but they still left me going "oh, well that's nice".

[babeluda]

Belgian Cats are going to the semifinals let's fucking gooo (against France though so that homecourt advantage the crowd gave them so far is probably done for)

Also excuse me while I fucking cry Emma Meesseman has been giving point guard Julie Allemand who got re-injured just before the tournament and had to pull out shout-outs on every. single. one. of her post game instagram posts and wrote her fucking nickname and jersey number on her shoes that she wears on the olympic court I can't even

[hephaestuscrew]

“This has both our names on it”: Viewing Fleet and Clara’s relationship in Victoriocity through a queerplatonic lens

TL;DR: By Season 3 of Victoriocity, Fleet and Clara have developed a committed emotional partnership that certainly moves beyond the purely professional. Whilst very much operating as a duo, they can be interpreted as often rejecting or subverting romance-coded elements in their relationship, instead embracing a unique dynamic that can be read as resonating with the concept of a queerplatonic relationship (QPR).

Buckle up because this is over 2,500 words long! If you'd rather read it as a document, you can access it here: Fleet & Clara QPR Google Doc

Disclaimer: I'm not making any claims about creator intent, nor about how anyone else ought to interpret Fleet and Clara's dynamic. It's also worth acknowledging that queerplatonic relationships are inherently defined by the people in them and any attempt to apply such terminology to a story set in 1887 is obviously anachronistic (although whether that should matter when said story also contains a cyborg Queen Victoria is up for debate). 

With that said, if we define a QPR as a committed personal partnership which is not entirely captured by the typical expectations of either friendship or romance but may contain some elements typically associated with either (other definitions of QPRs are available), I enjoy viewing Fleet and Clara's relationship through a QPR lens, and I want to talk about some of the reasons why I think this reading works.

***Spoilers for all three seasons of Victoriocity and the novel High Vaultage***

Detective duos

Even before we actually get into Fleet and Clara's particular bond, detective / crime-solving duos as a general concept have QPR energy to me (which probably predisposed me to this interpretation). It's the Holmes-and-Watson legacy. It's the use of the word 'partner' in a non-romantic context (‘associate’ or ‘companion’ can also serve a similar purpose). It's the intense trust and reliance on each other. It's the sense of being a recognisable pair, always appearing together, known as a duo, with skills and attributes that complement each other. 

Romantic assumptions

Moving on to Fleet and Clara specifically, one aspect of their relationship that can be read through a QPR lens is how they are often in situations where other people believe or imply that there is a romantic relationship between them. Sometimes this is a deliberate strategy of theirs, and sometimes it’s imposed upon them by others. But I’d argue that there’s never a point where they both simultaneously seem entirely comfortable with that romantic narrative for their relationship. Usually one of them will actively deny the assumption or react negatively to the implication:

When Mrs Hampshire interprets Clara and Fleet as a couple experiencing “young love”, Clara might be happy to adopt this as an effective cover story, but Fleet seems unsettled and keen for them not to be perceived this way: “No. No. You’ve misunderstood, we are not, that is to say I am…” (S1E2)

When Warden Hughes assumes Fleet is the new Warden and Clara is the new Warden’s wife, Clara says “I am certainly not”, with emphasis on the ‘certainly’. (S2E2)

Fleet definitely doesn’t sound enthused when he realises Clara has gone for a married couple as their cover story at the Grand Salcombe: “I am sure I’ll regret asking, but by any chance am I [Mr. Theasby?]” (S2E2)

When Titus Byrne tells the pair “I take it you're happy sharing [a room]”, Clara responds with a horrified “What?” (S3E4) (Obviously sleeping in the same room isn’t inherently romantic, but it is often perceived that way.)

Of course, fake dating and external assumptions of romance are very common tropes in romantic will-they-won't-they dynamics, and these moments could definitely be interpreted that way for Fleet and Clara. But I prefer to read these instances as reflecting a different kind of closeness between these two characters. They have a sense of emotional partnership that allows a marriage cover story to seem plausible to others and that other people sometimes automatically assume to be romantic (obviously with some period-typical heteronormativity at play). But to me, it doesn't seem like either of them are fully comfortable with their relationship being perceived in a directly romantic way. Perhaps they are a couple in a different sense…

Proposal via door plate 

The way that Fleet asks Clara to be his business partner has always seemed to me like a platonic version of when people find personal ways to surprise their romantic partner with a proposal:

CLARA: You bought me a door plate for your office? [...] This has both our names on it. FLEET: What do you think? CLARA: I like it. (S2E7)

Fleet could have just asked Clara outright, without going to the trouble of buying a sign that would have been useless if she’d said no. If it was purely a professional business proposition with no emotional meaning behind it, I think he would have just asked verbally. But instead, he gifts her a sign with their two names paired together: Fleet-Entwhistle Investigations. There's something so intimate about that to me: about Fleet asking Clara whether she would like to be a duo with him in a more formally-defined but still non-romantic way; about him choosing to present this offer in the form of a gift; about the way he presents her with their two names joined together etched into metal and asks what she thinks; about the significance that this gesture attaches to their partnership; about him having enough trust that she'll say yes that the effort and vulnerability of presenting her with that sign seem worth it for him. And the gesture means an awful lot to Clara:

She thought about the door plaque he’d had engraved with both their names on it as his way of inviting her to be his business partner – typical Fleet, refusing to tell her so much as his favourite breakfast food and then to go and do something like that. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. (High Vaultage, p187). 

Anniversaries

In the special episode ‘Murder in the Pharaoh's Tomb', Clara says “And you know what else is a big occasion Fleet? It's our one-month anniversary.” She wants to celebrate the anniversary of Fleet-Entwhistle Investigations. Their partnership holds a significance for her that means key dates associated with it are worth remembering and remarking upon. 

When Clara first mentions their anniversary, Fleet nearly chokes on his drink, which seems like an instinctive reaction to the usually romantic connotations of an anniversary (see my point above about Fleet not being comfortable with their dynamic being perceived as romantic). But when Clara clarifies what she means, Fleet seems much more cheerful about the notion of their anniversary: “Ah, so it has.”

“Miss Clara Entwhistle, my partner”

I get extremely strong QPR vibes from this moment, when Fleet introduces Clara to the sailors at Grave End:

FLEET: This is Miss Clara Entwhistle, my partner - in business, my business partner. CLARA: I'm also his friend, but he doesn't like to say it. (S3 E3)

Fleet and Clara are partners, but not in the way the average person might assume from that word, which Fleet realises mid-sentence here. This is another instance of Fleet reacting negatively to the idea that their relationship might be interpreted romantically (see above). And yet, 'partner' (rather than, say, ‘colleague’) is the word that comes naturally to him in this moment to describe who Clara is to him. He then frantically emphasises the professional element of their relationship so as to avoid the romantic implication, but Clara is keen to proudly assert that there is a personal, emotional aspect to their dynamic too. They are first-and-foremost partners, and they are friends, and they do not want to be seen in a romantic light - this post basically writes itself... 

“Her ridiculous detective.”

When Clara fears for her life at the display of the Lanterns, the narration tells us:

“she thought of her brother, her sister, her parents... Her ridiculous detective.” (High Vaultage, p172) 

The fact that Clara thinks of Fleet in this moment of fear clearly indicates his importance to her, but I think the phrasing of this quote is particularly interesting. The narration lists Clara's immediate family: two of whom are dead (her sister and father), one of whom is publically mourning Clara's life choices (her mother), and only one of whom we have any real evidence of her having a positive relationship with (her brother). And then, separated from these complicated familial relationships by an ellipsis, the narration tells Clara also thinks of Fleet, “her ridiculous detective”. 

Parents and siblings are familial relationships that tend to come with established expectations, in which the use of a possessive pronoun (i.e. her brother) to indicate the relationship is a norm. ‘Detective’ does not fall into this category; unlike ‘brother’, ‘sister’, ‘parent’, ‘friend’, ‘partner’ etc., ‘detective’ is not a word that inherently implies a relationship or that we'd usually expect to see preceded by a possessive pronoun. The idea of ‘her detective’ therefore stands out, giving the sense that there is a unique relationship being indicated here. The way in which Fleet is ‘hers’ is something that Clara has chosen for herself, something that they have shaped together. Who they are to each other can't necessarily be fully expressed using standard phrases that traditionally describe relationships between people. But Fleet is Clara's detective, of which she only has one, and who she'll think of in the midst of “the screaming of the heavens at the end of the world”.

Fleet is also the only one in this list of Clara's loved ones who gets an adjective - her love for him has detail. And while “ridiculous” might often be perceived as negative (it's certainly not a classic romantic endearment), it seems to me like there's such fondness in it in this context: the recognition of and affection for eccentricities, the idea that his importance to her is not (purely) based on his professional strengths but on Fleet as a whole - perhaps at times ridiculous - person.

“Settled”

When Clara and Fleet talk about Clara's mother’s expectations for her, they have this exchange:

"She's still living in hope that one day I'll settle down."  "You're not settled?" asked Fleet. "I am." (High Vaultage, p259) 

By ‘settle down’, Clara's mother of course means ‘marry’, ideally into “at least a minor baronetcy”. But Clara already considers herself "settled", just not in a way her mother would understand or appreciate. She's not looking to "settle down" into a lifestyle other than her current one. She is settled in a situation where Fleet is certainly her closest personal connection in London (and perhaps anywhere), and where the two of them work closely together, operate as a duo, and then go back to their separate homes. And this partnership with Fleet is a comfortable set-up that feels right for Clara exactly as it is, rather than being a precursor to, or a distraction from, the marriage ambitions that her mother wants for her.

I think this exchange also contains an implicit sense of the commitment between the two of them. Fleet wants to check that Clara is ‘settled’ in her current situation, of which working closely - and platonically - with Fleet is obviously a major element; Clara confirms she is. There's a subtle indication of their shared intention to be in this for the long haul.

As a sidenote, Fleet and Clara’s implicit assumption that their partnership is a long-term one can manifest itself in joking contexts as well as serious ones. Look at this exchange from S3E5: 

FLEET: We're not bandits, we're just going to flag it down. CLARA: We'd be terrific bandits! FLEET: Let's just see how our current line of work goes.

I think it’s notable that, in this joking speculation, both Fleet and Clara use ‘we’ and ‘our’. The joke could have been phrased just as effectively if they were imagining only Clara becoming a bandit. But the suggestion is that, if either of them was a bandit, they’d be bandits together. Even if they changed their lives entirely, they'd still approach life together.

Inseparable 

Fleet and Clara have become a nearly inseparable duo in a way which is noticed by others. For example, after Clara and Fleet fall out in High Vaultage, Fleet meets with Keller, who says: 

"You're here with me instead of barrelling across town with her, so I'm just assuming there is some thickheaded puffinry for which you need to apologise to Miss Entwhistle" (p335)

Keller, hardly the most emotionally perceptive man in Even Greater London, automatically infers from the fact that Fleet is on his own that he has had a falling out with Clara, rather than that they just happen to be in different places. When all is well, Keller expects to see the two of them together, whether or not they are in a position to be actively working a case.

Going back earlier in their partnership, Keller makes a similar assumption about Fleet and Clara being inseparable in S2E6. When Clara shouts her name amidst Keller's anti-Vidoc booby traps, Keller asks "Entwhistle? Which means… Fleet?" Again, there's this idea that if one of them is there, the other is likely to be there too - they come as a pair. (It's worth noting that this scene takes place less than two weeks after they first met.)

“Like a friend might?”

At the end of S3E7, Fleet suggests that he and Clara go to the theatre together. It would have been easy for this invitation to have been explicitly framed as a romantic proposition, or even for the nature of the offer to have been left more ambiguous. But Clara says "Archibald Fleet, are you inviting me to a social activity? Like a friend might?" The use of the word 'friend' directly labels this as a platonic interaction. And it's with that platonic lens on it that Clara is extremely excited to spend non-work-related social time with Fleet.

“Maybe it'll just be my good luck charm.”

CLARA: My grandmother's ring, I don't suppose you managed to hold on to it? [...] FLEET: Oh, it's been crushed.. I'm sorry Clara [...] CLARA: No, you keep it. FLEET: What? No... CLARA: Keep it. Maybe it'll remind you not to run towards trains. FLEET: Maybe. Maybe it'll just be my good luck charm.

In S3E7, Clara gives Fleet a ring, which - as a gift from one person to another - is traditionally a symbol of a particular, legally recognised, kind of personal commitment. But when Clara tells Fleet to keep the damaged ring, down in the Underground tunnels after the destruction of the beast and Fleet's latest brush with death, it is quite a different situation to a wedding or a proposal. A married man would traditionally wear his wedding ring on his finger for all to see, but Fleet won't ever wear this ring like that. The ring itself has been bent into a different shape between the wheels of their misadventures, subverting the usual associations of a ring given from one person to another. (In a heteronormative world, those associations are particularly strong when the two people in question are a woman and a man.) 

That ring is not an engagement ring, but it is Clara’s grandmother's ring, an inheritance from the blood family she never really felt she belonged in, now given to the man who might be a very different kind of family for her in London. That ring - with which Clara saved Fleet's life - is a symbol of their bond. And it therefore serves as a reminder for Fleet “not to run towards trains" and as a “good luck charm”. I like to think he'll carry that ring with him, perhaps in his jacket pocket - a little piece of his partner, kept close to his ticking heart…

Thank you for reading all of this!

If you’ve read all of this, I'm assuming you also enjoy the concept of Fleet and Clara as a QPR (unless you're really a glutton for punishment) and that makes me very happy! This was long because there's so much to say about them… And I wrote all of the above without even getting into: the potential to headcanon Fleet and/or Clara as aspec (which I don't think is necessary for QPR headcanons, but which is also fun); Clara's baggage around and discomfort with marriage in general; the speed with which Fleet and Clara become a ride-or-die duo; and the many other demonstrations of care, understanding, trust, respect, and affection between them that didn't feel as directly QPR-coded to me but are nonetheless wonderful. Please do feel free to share your own thoughts!

[velvet-games]

shipping jayvik out of spite now smh

[possamble]

I'm not allowed to be on social media for more than two seconds today but I just wanted to say that Laios will absolutely have his own reaction to all this as someone who would die for Falin but has also imprinted on Marcille as his Emotional Support Comphet White Girl Not-Girlfriend along the way

[k1tty5]

hello :D please tell me more about your mezalian (is that how you spell it??) smalletho I will forever be indebted to you

(they are gorgeous I love them sm)

hey hi !! it would be my pleasure … (and I’ve been spelling it mezalean ??? but i have no idea LOL. there might be a canon spelling but i havent watched joels esmp1 since… probably since it ended. i will have to check sometime)

apologizing in advance because i will probably get very ramble-y!!

ummm. Oh god. How to start. Lets see. WELL. In this silly little au (i guess it has become a bit more than just me doodling designs LOL) in my head they have like this sort of zelink dynamic? obviously without all the zelda lore & stuff, just that kind of … okay forgive me I haven’t brushed up on my zelink lore for a good many years but. Like the princess and her personal knight that doesn’t really talk much sort of thing.

this made more sense in my head. But yeah. They have the vibes of zelink ? At least if i remember zelink right, I have a really bad memory :’) not exactly the same, i do think etho talks to joel (whereas if iirc link never really talks) - especially after getting to know him a bit - but just. they have the Vibes. You know?

I reckon Joel’s definitely very into sculpting in this au, maybe dabbles a little in painting - I imagine mezalea to be very heavy on art and expression in general. think you’d especially see lots of pottery and textiles all around the place. He probably also has an interest in some form of like. um. whats the word. Some sort of … fighting. lmao. Specifically thinking of fencing, i had this idea in my head that he’s watched Etho practice outside the palace at some point and is just absolutely fascinated and enamored. by both the practice and etho himself haha.

and for etho… talented swordsman? he is Not washed. i dont really have many ideas for his character in this au To be completely honest, mostly just of his personality. Although, I alsooo think he’s probably not actually from mezalea? I like to draw him with those pointy elf ears, and i think mezaleans are just humans. I cant remember if thats canon or not but um. mezaleans have human ears, so i’d imagine etho’s probably from like.. rivendelle? Is that. What it’s called. The elf guys? Are they elves??? Goodness I cant remember. Grimlands would make sense too since i THINK they’re kind of like. technical engineer guys? but i dont know what species they are um so ,,, yeah,,,,

i think joel’s probably a bit put off by etho at first, mostly just because he’s not super enthused about the idea of a personal guard, but also because the guys a bit odd, you know? but he’s also probably suuuper intrigued by him. he wants to figure this new guy out, and when they start talking a bit more, i think. They are both incredibly charmed by the other. head over heels? possibly.

most of my ideas of this au are just little scenes that are cute and silly but dont follow any main plot. I would love to write some one-shots of some of the ideas i have in the future, but as of right now im experiencing a bout of creative burnout and am busy with the holidays - spending time with family, so… not right now lol!

hopefully this is what you wanted,,,, i tend to get very ramble-y when talking about literally anything, so i do apologize for that haha, i am Not good at explaining things in simple ways, as i’ve said many a time before.

[createandconstruct]

Posted this on Twitter but

Idk man… I think what gets me is the weight of this chapter. 430 had a bittersweetness to it but this feels doubled. Perhaps because this is very likely the last time we’ll see these characters but the send off in this extra chapter feels so quiet and melancholy…

[mellotronmkll]

i love apollo 18 but i have a few problems with it and one of the biggest ones is that i can never just listen to the fucking album because its impossible for me to hear this song without repeating it at least like 4 or 5 times

[flowercrowngods]

hi my inbox is full of so much love and affection right now and i swear i am not ignoring anyone, i see all your "you make me happy" asks and your cat pics and your "i hope you have a wonderful day" messages but i swear i'm not ignoring you, i'm just gonna bask in them a little longer 🥰🤍

[advestager]

I feel like saying Josuke doesn't have any daddy issues whatsoever isn't entirely fair (I've seen some fic and comics go further into how he and his mom might have been treated due to the circumstances of his birth that were pretty compelling) but people who act like he grew up without any father figure are definitely off base imo. Every single adaptation and extra material have always had a focus on his close relationship with his grandpa for a reason!

see, that's precisely the thing. it is literally impossible to be a grown up human without having internalised some sort of illogical Feeling about oneself or the world – but fandom as a whole tends to just assign arbitrary ones to characters based on stereotypes rather than what they actually are like.

i do think josuke feels some sort of way about his lack of a father growing up, but that's as inevitable as joseph himself (or giorno, or jolyne, or even jonathan) having feelings about his own dad, and yet somehow jorge's absence does not get brought up despite joseph and josuke's fairly similar upbringings. the fact is that most of western fandom tends to view the JJBA characters through a (white, usa-centric) lens that simply does not lend itself to a fair or accurate reading when most of the cast is either POC or from an entirely different cultural background. that's why i'm so resistant to label josuke as having 'daddy issues'; the term means something entirely different to me than it seems to do to most of the fandom, based on all the fic, comics, and discussions i've seen (and had) about the topic. it's not exactly like the organised crime aspect of VA, but it fills me with a similar kind of frustration. i don't think one needs a degree in cultural studies or history or whatnot to enjoy a silly series about people punching each other with slutty soul-ghosts, but it's exhausting to see the same thoughtless, very specifically westernised takes being regurgitated over and over as Absolute Truth until the characters are so flanderised they seem nothing as much as a caricature of their original versions. i love transformative works as much as any other fan creator, but i also happen to like the source material. it is infinitely more interesting to me to think about what kind of relationship josuke might have to his heritage as a mixed-race person, or his identity as the son of a single mother or the obviously cherished and spoilt child of a family such as his own (especially in a place and period like canon's late-90s/early 00's japan), than to hear yet another iteration of 'haha, josuke has daddy issues' where the person saying it has no intention of analysing that premise beyond the puddle-depth obvious.

at barely sixteen years old, even as interested in high-end fashion (and as very much part of a working class family who could definitely use the nest egg) as he is, josuke's immediate reaction to being told his missing father is incredibly rich and wants to take care of him is to say that it's not necessary, and he's fine as he is. sixteen. i worked as a teacher with kids as young as a year old and people as old as mid-seventies; that kind of ease of mind is one-in-a-million and not something you'll find on someone who fits fandom's definition of 'daddy issues'. he's not angry at joseph, he's not grasping for money, he hardly even wants to find out more about the missing part of his origins. his only thought is to wish he wouldn't be the reason other people were hurt, and to protect his mother once there is a risk she might find out and be distressed about it. his entire morality system is (from what i remember of canon) mostly based around the question What Would Grandpa Do?, with some leeway allowed for the temper he clearly got from tomoko and for the fact that he is, again, a big and slightly spoilt sixteen year old.

so yeah. it might not sound fair to say he doesn't have daddy issues, but i don't think the terms fandom's operating under are fair to start with, so i'd rather recuse myself (and my interpretation of the character) from it all til we're playing the same game. the sandbox's wide and wild, and the block and mute buttons are there for a reason, so i'll just stay in my corner writing about higashikatas wielding their feelings like sledgehammers til my mum says it's time to go home.

[pharaohbean]

my ramblings about a fire emblem awakening au

(if you’re wondering why im explaining some things its bc i sent this to some friends that dont know anything about fea except what i send them in waves)

bonus: me trying to get them to understand how insane robin can be (neither of them were online)

[imaginedisish]

Lover, You Should've Come Over (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Get ready to cry. This is based on a request I received yesterday where the reader gets jealous of Jean. I tried to take this in a different direction just because I feel like this is a popular trope that has been done by many fantastic writers. It's also inspired by "Lover, You Should've Come Over," by Jeff Buckley. Hope you guys enjoy.

Summary: You've been pining after Logan since you joined the X-Men, and you're convinced he'll never love you back. He’s obsessed with Jean—always has been. Or...maybe he's not.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV (unprotected...pls WRAP IT UP THIS IS FICTION!), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, f!reader/afab!reader, telepathic!reader, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan (kinda? yeah.), non-canon compliant (you'll see what I mean...no spoilers), cursing, angst, feelings, implied mutant trauma (kinda a given in X-Men), probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,197 sorry

Wanting someone you can’t have—it’s that crying in the shower, pulling your legs into your chest, screaming into your pillow kind of heartache. You’ve come to know the feeling intimately. It’s an awful, horrid, stomach-churning kind of pain.

But you want him. Despite all the pain, you want him. Logan Howlett. You can’t seem to keep him off your mind. For the few months you’ve been one of the X-Men, Logan has been a constant. He’s always there—whether it’s to train or just to talk. But you know he’ll never want you. You see the way he looks at Jean. You wish you didn’t. You wish you were oblivious to that sort of thing. But you don’t need to use your telepathy to reach inside his mind for proof—you just know. 

You keep holding on, savoring every moment, every interaction you have with Logan. You sit on the lawn of the mansion with him, watching the sunset. You’ll come down to the living room late at night to find him sitting in front of the T.V. and join him. Sometimes he’ll drape an arm around your shoulder. He’ll draw circles into your side as you drift off. You’ll wake up the next morning back in your bed, Logan having carried you there long after you’ve fallen asleep. 

You’ve decided you’ll take all he’ll give you, even if it means nothing to him—even if it's platonic. 

But tonight, you wish something would come up through the floor and swallow you whole. A void, a black hole maybe. That would do the trick. Disappearing would make everything so much easier. The second-best thing to disappearing is sitting in the kitchen of the mansion, alone, with a pint of ice cream. You decide to practice your powers, moving the silver spoon with your mind, concentrating as you dig the spoon into the top of the pint and into your mouth. 

You hear a warm, familiar chuckle from the doorway as the spoon lands on your tongue. You look up, and there’s Logan, arms tucked across his chest. “Wish I could do that.”

You can’t help but smile around the spoon as he strides over to you, taking a seat on the stool next to yours. You slide the spoon out of your mouth and rest it on the napkin next to the ice cream. “Hey,” you mutter, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

His shoulder brushes against yours. He’s so close it hurts. You try to shove the pain down and enjoy the moment. 

“Was hoping I’d run into you down here. Thought maybe you’d be in bed already,” Logan says, his eyes locked on yours. 

You shake your head, doing your best to keep that fake smile plastered on your face. “Couldn’t sleep.” 

You can see the sudden concern appear on his face. “Everything okay?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. Fuck, you think to yourself. Maybe he’s catching on. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, looking down at the ice cream. “Just still having a hard time adjusting.” It wasn’t a lie. You had always struggled with your powers, longing to hide, to shove them down. Your whole life, you were either a freak or something to be used—whatever was most convenient in the moment. The struggle between visibility and forcing yourself to be “normal” was an impossible battle. You were no stranger to being taken advantage of or being experimented on.

Logan was the first person who understood that—understood you. He made you feel seen in a way that no one ever had. It’s part of the reason you’ve fallen so hard for him. 

His hand is suddenly on your back, yanking you from your thoughts and back to reality. “I’m here,” he whispers. “Whatever you need, anything.” 

Anything. You wish he really meant it. 

“Thanks, Lo.” You smile up at him, letting your eyes linger on his lips for just a second before looking back down at the ice cream. “Want some?” You ask, nodding at the pint. 

“Only if you feed it to me the way you did when I walked in.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he taps the spoon. You side-eye him incredulously. “I mean it. Wanna see you do it again.” There’s a husk in his voice, a shift in his timber that sends a chill down your spine. You try not to think about it too much as you pick up the spoon with your mind. 

You guide the spoon inside the pint, scraping the top, and lifting it up towards Logan’s mouth. He opens wide as you lead the spoon inside, his tongue hitting the bottom as his lips close around it. The implications of the moment don’t dawn on you until he’s grabbing the spoon with his hands and sucking on the metal. There’s something undeniably suggestive about this. 

Heat rises to your chest as you replay the image of him taking the spoon into his mouth in your mind. It’s so intimate, so domestic. And, certainly, something else—something that makes you tick, that makes that familiar fire grow deep within your belly. 

But—like always—the moment doesn’t last long. You wince, feeling someone itching against your thoughts, prodding at your mental shields, begging to be let in. Suddenly, there’s another voice in your mind. 

I gotta try that myself. You flinch at the sound, taking the spoon from Logan’s hand and shooting it across the room to where you sense the person’s presence. You turn around, and there’s Jean, resisting the spoon’s trajectory with her mind. 

It's almost pressing into her skull, shaking in mid-air, ready to break her skin. You gasp and drop the spoon, embarrassed to have registered her as a threat. “I’m so sorry,” you say, watching as Jean crouches down and picks up the spoon. “I didn’t know that was you in there, I swear.”

You expect Logan to stand from the chair and rush over to Jean, but he stays next to you, glued to your side, the palm of his hand resting gently on your back. “Jean.” His voice is firm, almost cold and harsh. “What was that?” You’re surprised at how curt he’s being with her, surprised he remembered that you’re sensitive to people probing around your mind, even if it’s friendly. 

Jean mutters a curse. “I was just communicating with her. I didn’t think she’d—” 

Logan stands, his hand still steady at your back. “Don’t do that again. Ever.” His voice is louder now, heavier. 

She whispers an apology, setting the spoon on the counter and walking towards the doorway. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says. “I should’ve remembered given your…” she pauses, searching for the word, “past…that it wouldn’t be a good idea.” She takes another tentative step. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she says, and she slips out. 

Logan settles back into the stool next to you. You’re shocked that he’s still here, that he hasn’t run away yet. You can hear him breathe—in and out—gentle, long breaths. You close your eyes and listen, the sound calming you down. You’re still expecting him to leave, to walk away, but he doesn’t. 

“You okay?” He asks, your eyes fluttering open, his voice hanging in the air. His head is tilted to the side, worry painted across his face. 

“Y-yeah. I’m fine,” you stutter, your voice cracking. “You don’t have to stay with me. You can go check on her if you want.” You nod towards the doorway—to wherever Jean wandered off to. 

“And why would I do that?” Is all he says in return, furrowing his brows. 

You put on that fake smile again. “I almost jammed a spoon into her forehead because she spoke to me telepathically.” You shake your head. “Don’t really think my reaction was particularly friendly—or something that good people do.” You break eye contact with Logan and look to the other side of the kitchen. “Plus, you two are…close.”

“Hey.” His voice is firm again, but gentle this time, reassuring. His hand slips across your back and rests on your waist. You’re so shocked by the contact that you almost miss what he says. “First of all, she knows better. Charles warned her about what you’ve been through. And second…” He trails off, smirking at you. “I’d rather be with you.”

Oh? Oh. He’d rather be with you. 

“I just thought, you know, you and Jean were…” You’re too embarrassed to finish the sentence and too nervous to hear him say the words you’ve been dreading most. 

He shakes his head, that smirk still spread across his lips. “No, it’s not Jean I want. Never has been.” 

Your breathing becomes shaky—your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “If it’s not Jean, then—” 

Logan cuts you off as he suddenly moves. His arm lifts from your waist as he stands, turning your stool around so your back is against the cold countertop. He’s gripping the arms of the stool now, caging you in. Your mind is hazy—you can’t concentrate with him this close. 

“You think I do the shit I do with you with Jean too, hm?” He’s towering over you, his head cocking to the side, his voice self-assured and confident. “Think I’m watching movies and sunsets with her? Carrying her to bed, too?” 

You’re overwhelmed, dizzied by his words, his size, him. “Just thought that—”

“Just thought what?” He cuts you off again. “That I didn’t want you, darlin’?” He brings his lips to the shell of your ear, one hand moving from the counter to your hip. “Wanted you this whole time,” he huffs, goosebumps rising on your arms. “Only you.” He presses a kiss to your ear, and then just underneath your jaw. 

“Logan,” you whisper. “W-want you too,” you choke out, your hands coming up and around his back. “B-but someone’s gonna walk in on us.” 

He’s ignoring you, biting your pulse point lightly and licking the pain away. “Let them,” he husks, refusing to stop. You instinctively bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, your nails digging in slightly. He groans at the contact, his chest heaving against yours. 

“One of the kids is catch us in here, or somebody else,” you mutter, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. “W-we should—”

“Go to my room.” He finishes your thought. 

“Please.” 

And then he’s picking you up from the chair, his hands under your thighs, grabbing your ass. You wrap your legs around his waist as he prowls out of the kitchen. He looks both ways as he crosses the hallway and makes his way to the stairs. There’s no one in sight. He carries you up the steps and down the hall to his room, practically breaking down the door as he swings it open and slams it shut. 

And then he’s laying you down on his bed, crawling over you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Wanted you in here sooner,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours. “Hoped you’d come over one night. You should’ve.”

His lips crash down onto yours before you can find the words to say. He’s starving for you, swallowing your moans as his hands slip under your shirt, his nails digging lightly into your sides. “So fucking beautiful,” he rasps against your lips. Everything is desperate and rushed, hands pawing at bare skin in the dim light of his room. 

Logan tugs on the hem of your shirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the side as he sits up on his knees, taking you in. He curses under his breath, looking you up and down. 

“Logan,” you whine, arching your back. You need his hands on you again, his lips. Something. Anything. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, his fingers hooking inside the waistband of your shorts. “Gonna take care of you.” He yanks them down your legs, leaving you in just your bra and panties. 

He pulls off his own shirt, tossing it carelessly, letting it get lost on the floor. He settles back down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand finds your waist. He slides up to the bottom of your bra, teasingly pulling on the fabric before slipping his hand behind your back—skillfully unclasping the bra with one easy motion. You arch your back again, the bra straps sliding down your arms as Logan tosses the bra to the floor, too. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, his hand tracing the curves of your breasts, massaging gently. “Perfect.” He captures your lips in another kiss as his thumb ghosts over your nipples, just barely giving you the relief you need before pinching softly. The pressure feels so good, so right, but it’s not enough. 

He draws circles around your nipples with his thumb, the sensation feeding the aching fire between your legs. Your hips involuntarily lift off the mattress, meeting his. “Need me that bad, huh?” He is always so incredibly cocky, even now—especially now. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and what to do next. 

Logan grinds his erection into your core. You can feel how big he is, the weight of him heavy against your cunt even in his jeans. You clench around nothing, whining his name as his strained cock teases your panty-clad pussy. “You want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, biting your lips as his hand leaves your tits and sweeps down your stomach, stopping just above your clit. He slides his fingers down just a bit more, feeling where your arousal seeps through your panties. 

“Already soaking for me, sweetheart.” The bassy timber of his voice stokes that flame deep within your belly. Without warning, he’s hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanking them down your legs. “Can’t wait anymore, pretty girl,” he whispers. “Wanna taste this pussy.” He kisses your belly button, leaving a trail down the rest of your stomach as his mouth travels to where you need him most. 

There’s something depraved about the way he’s crawling down your body, taking in every inch of you. He spreads your legs apart with the palms of his hands—his thumbs brushing against your bare skin, licking teasingly at your inner thighs as he settles in between them. 

He pauses, looking at you under hooded eyes. You can see the want—no, the need—in the way his muscles flex and how he works his jaw. But he’s hesitating, his breath hot against your core, sending another jolt of desire through your body. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your eyes searching his for his next move. 

He finally presses a kiss to your clit. “You don’t understand how you make me feel,” he mumbles against your heat, licking a long stripe through your folds and back to your clit. “No idea how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” You throw your head back, whimpering his name as he laps again and again. He’s starving, and you’re the only thing that can satiate his hunger. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking it, taking it in between his lips and sucking hard. 

Your hips lift off the mattress and Logan quickly moves to hold them down. “You’re not going anywhere, darlin’,” he grunts against you, the vibration of his voice going straight to your core. 

His free hand slips up the inside of your thighs, teasingly climbing higher and higher, his nails skimming your flesh. He’s toying with you, leading you on, taking his time. His fingers finally ghost over your folds, exploring you, stroking up and down as his tongue laps at your cunt. 

Logan prods your entrance with two fingers, slipping in just a bit, testing the waters. “Please,” you beg, pushing your hips down in an attempt to sink his fingers deeper into you. He stops you, his hand still firmly holding your hips down, refusing to give you the release you’re dying for. 

“So fucking impatient, aren’t you?” He tuts. And then he’s shoving two fingers all the way inside you, down to his knuckles. “Such a pretty pussy.”

“F-fuck!” You cry out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he sets a relentless pace. He’s drinking you in, sucking roughly, his long fingers pumping in and out with a vengeance. 

“’This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks condescendingly in between laps. You’re too fucked out to form a sentence, your legs trembling underneath him. You know he’s loving this—loving that you’re a wet, needy, whimpering mess. 

Your walls squeeze around his fingers, your swollen clit throbbing as he laps at you. You’re so close already. “Lo,” you call out, fisting the sheets of his bed. Everything in here smells like him: pine and mint and musk and tobacco and that thing that’s uniquely Logan. It’s all so overwhelming and overstimulating. You’re ready to fall apart, to melt into nothingness. “S-so close.”

He squeezes your hip. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothes, his pace unwavering as his fingers fuck into you, scissoring inside you, drawing you closer to your climax with that come-hither motion he does so well. Your walls flutter again. “That’s it,” he coos. “Wanna feel you come—wanna know what it tastes like.” He licks harder, faster. “Let go for me, darlin’.” 

He pushes you over the edge, pleasure warming your belly as you let go. It washes over you in waves, his fingers still pumping in and out, his tongue still hanging on to the taste of you. You ride it out, his thumb brushing your hip, coaxing you through it. His fingers slip out of your cunt, but his head is still buried between your legs. You shudder as he licks long, slow stripes through your folds. 

“So fucking sweet,” he growls, still starving for more. “Not done with you yet.”

Fuck. 

But you need more—need his cock deep inside you, pounding into you. You need him in front of you, his lips on yours. 

“Logan,” you whine, your voice shaky and trembling just like the rest of your body. He finally lifts his head, his hair a disheveled mess, your juices glistening on his lips and his chin. The sight of him makes your breath hitch in your throat. There’s a feral, needy look in his eyes. He’s starving for more of you, and you’re not quite sure he’ll ever get enough. 

But he can see your chest heaving and the desire in your own eyes. He knows what you need—he always does. He sits up on his knees, staring at you while he slowly unbuckles his belt. The tension is palpable, the clinking of his belt against the hardwood floors cutting through it like a hot knife—the only sounds the melding of your quick breaths and the shuffling of bed sheets as Logan finally comes up to meet you. 

He's balancing on his forearm as he unbuttons his jeans, undoing the zipper and shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs. You swallow at the sight of his cock springing against his stomach. You had felt his erection before, but he is far bigger than you ever anticipated. 

With one hand on his cock, he lowers himself in between your thighs. You instinctually spread your legs for him, inviting him in. He nudges against your entrance, taking his time. 

His forehead meets yours, your chests flush against each other’s, panting in sync. You’re both waiting with bated breath, his tip slipping inside, but stopping short before going any farther. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Thought I’d never have you,” he confesses, pushing his tip a bit further in. “Would’ve given up anything for this. Would’ve waited forever.”

“You don’t have to,” you murmur.  “I’m right here. I’m yours.” 

“Mine?”

“All yours.”

And then he’s pushing deep inside you, down to the hilt, bottoming out. He swallows your moans with a kiss, biting your lip, drawing blood, and licking it away. “All fucking mine.” He stays buried inside you, unmoving. “Wanna stay inside you forever, sweetheart,” he growls, your heart bursting at the thought.

He pulls himself all the way out and all the way back in, stretching you out, working you open. You look down in between your bodies and watch as his cock disappears inside of you. “Feels s-so fucking good,” you stammer, already drunk off him. 

“Like watching me fuck into you?” Logan husks, picking up his pace, his hips snapping into yours. 

“Y-yes,” you whimper. His muscles flex as he ruts into you. He takes the hand that was on his cock and brings it in between your bodies, his fingertips quickly finding your clit and giving it a soft pinch. Your back arches off the mattress at the sensation. 

Logan hums at your reaction. “So sensitive,” he groans. “Taking me so good, sweetheart.” You can feel him losing control as he rams into you, his thrusts growing harder with each pump of his cock. He’s drawing firm, fast circles into your core. 

It’s all too much, him, his cock, his fingers. Your skin is on fire, your nipples pushing against his chest—the friction absolutely delicious. You’re already so close, just a few steps away from the ledge, and you’re ready to fall. 

“Know you’re close, darlin’,” Logan moans in between kisses. “Can feel you squeezing me.” 

You hum in response, but Logan refuses to let up. His pace is beyond brutal, pounding into you over and over again, his fingers working your clit in tandem. Your muscles contract around him, gripping tightly. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “So fucking tight, so fucking warm.” His praises are more than you can handle. “You gonna come on my cock, just like this?” 

“Yes, fuck, Logan!” You’re a babbling mess, his name the only thing on your mind, on your lips, hanging in the air like it’s a sacred prayer. Everything is him, and it always has been. In this moment and in every other, he is your end and your beginning. 

 “Let go for me, sweetheart. Know you can do it for me.” His deep voice is all you need to walk you through it. You’re breaking down, coming on his cock, the pleasure coursing through your veins, spreading like an untamable fire. 

He’s stroking your clit long after you’ve come, still snapping his hips into yours, still working up towards his own orgasm. His pace is getting sloppier, but he shows no signs of stopping. You can feel yourself growing overstimulated, his cock rubbing against your walls, his fingers circling your clit. “S’too much,” you whine, your nails digging into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

Logan presses himself closer to you, as close as he possibly can be. “You’ve got one more in you, sweetheart,” he coaxes, not letting up. “Know you can take it.”

You’re breathless, clinging onto him helplessly. You’re clamping down on him again, taking him deeper than you did before. He’s hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. “Lo,” you whimper. “I’m gonna—”

“I know, darlin’,” he grunts. You can feel him throbbing inside you. “Let it happen, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” 

The tension is snapping again, breaking in half as he pulls another orgasm from you. You shudder as you come for a third time, overstimulated and beyond fucked out. You know he’s close behind, his hips slowing down, his forehead pressed against yours. He slips his hand away from your clit and around your back, pulling you closer to his chest. It’s so intimate, so perfect. 

“F-fuck,” he mumbles. “Where do you want me to—”

You hold him closer. “Stay,” you whisper. “Want you inside. Wanna feel you come.”

“Oh fuck,” he mutters, plunging deep inside you, his muscles tensing as he fills you up, your name on his lips. His thrusts slow, pumping in and out every now and then before finally stopping. 

You stay like this for a few minutes, his arm keeping you tight against his chest, his cock still buried inside you and your foreheads still pressed together. 

He brings a hand up to your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. You sigh, your eyes fluttering open and closed. 

He shakes his head. “I always wanted you,” he says, his voice low and raspy. “The whole time. It was only ever you.” 

His words could make you cry. It’s everything you’ve ever hoped to hear. You smile, his hand finding its way to the crook of your neck, his fingers lightly stroking your sensitive skin. “Can’t believe I didn’t see it,” you breathe, your voice laden with sleepiness. “I never knew. Thought you’d never want me.”

“I’ll always want you.” His cock finally slips out of you, leaving you feeling empty. His legs tangle with yours, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “Would’ve waited forever for you, darlin’.”

“Forever?”

“Longer.”

[babycharmander]

(BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS)

I just finished reading The Book of Bill and I am kindof losing my mind over some of this stuff.

I had wondered if Alex Hirsch might make Bill sympathetic in some way and oh boy I was not expecting him to do it so successfully (and without cheapening Bill's character).

So, we learn that Bill was born into a 2D world... as a mutant who can see into the third dimension. He claims he was absolutely loved by all, but when talking about his powers, he mentions under Pyrokinesis:

"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane / Starting fires with his brain." The kids in grade school could be so cruel. But where are they now, huh? WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

So probably not quite as liked as he was letting on. To add to that, there's the silly straw page, which looks like silly nonsense until you decipher some of the codes:

"EYE DOCTOR OF A DIFFERENT KIND / WHO WANTS TO MAKE HIS PATIENTS BLIND" "THE DOCTOR SAYS / THREE SIPS A DAY / WILL MAKE THE VISIONS / GO AWAY"

I wasn't sure what this meant until I saw someone point out... he was seeing a third dimension that no one else could see. His parents probably took him to the eye doctor to try to "fix" him. Which, speaking of his eye doctor, the coded message in the section about human eyeballs says something interesting:

"MY OPTOMETRIST NEVER SAW IT COMING"

It could be a joke given beforehand he's talking about dissecting a human eye, but given the previous hints of medical abuse, I wouldn't put it past him that he tried to get revenge on his eye doctor.

Oh yeah and the whole thing about him setting his entire dimension on fire? Yeah it turns out it was entirely a mistake (he just wanted everyone to understand the third dimension he was seeing so they could be free of only two dimensions), he was so traumatized by it he blacks out when trying to recall it. He deeply, deeply regrets it, and...

"What? Your ENTIRE home dimension? destroyed? How? By what?" Bill looked distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him. "By a monster."

He sees himself as a monster.

And yet, he's not some innocent, misunderstood being. He still revels in causing pain and chaos. He's terrible in general, but becomes incredibly abusive toward Ford.

"YOU'RE MY PROPERTY. DON'T FORGET IT. The hillbilly abandoned you, your father won't want you returning without millions, you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow, who would even miss you?"

Which... speaking of him and Ford...

Yes, yes, I know people ship them. But like, whether you see their relationship as romantic or platonic (I see it as the latter), there's some interesting parallels to be made here.

Both Bill and Ford are mutants who were mocked for their being different. (Bill was not physically a mutant, as far as we know, but more in the sense of him having vision stronger than that of everyone else in his dimension, and also having special powers. And he does describe himself as a mutant.) Both became social outcasts, separated from their families but still haunted by them (Ford seeing commercials of Stan on TV and running across old photos of him and his brother, Bill being haunted by his family in some form). Neither could return home for one reason or another. Both more powerful than their peers (Ford intellectually, Bill in terms of actual powers). Both of them isolated and alone. (Yes, Bill does have the Henchmaniacs, but they seem like shallow friends, and only really seem to follow him out of a desire to have a place to party.)

Ford was not aware of most of this, aside from knowing that Bill could not go home because his dimension was destroyed. But Bill absolutely saw himself in Ford. There was no other person he tried to use whom he felt a stronger connection to.

And he actually seems to care about Ford--he actually gave him a birthday present, and when Ford didn't like it, he decided to get drunk and party with him instead to make up for it.

And then when Ford realizes what Bill's plan actually is and refuses to go along with it, and fights back no matter what Bill does, Bill completely breaks down.

After living for trillions of years, he met someone who was like him, and that person rejected him.

He goes berserk, wreaking havoc, being caught by the dimensional authority that he's been taunting for most of his life.

And then after dying and being cast out of hell for being too annoying, he winds up faced with the Axolotl, who sends him to therapy, where he continues to break down further, sending out the book in a desperate attempt to find someone, anyone who will help him break loose and wreak havoc once again.

"You have no friends, and if you died ... who would even miss you?"

I don't know, Bill. Who would even miss you?

In short,

[ID: The front and back of one of Bill's Valentines cards. On the front is a black void with Bill Cipher lying down without his hat, gazing blankly upwards, with the text "I DON'T WANT TO DIE ALONE" above him. On the back is a simple white "TO/FROM" in red, with a red outline illustration of Bill spontaneously growing a mouth and eating a realistic, bloody heart. /end ID]

[paganinpurple]

AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED

Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.

If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.

Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.

If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.

It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.

The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.