#queerplatonic fics

[koszmarnybudyn]

This was made because I read a fic "Proximity" by rosesofenvy and now i'm yearning.

[ao3demographicssurvey2024]

In the AO3 Demographics Survey 2024 - an unofficial demographics survey of 16,131 AO3 users - the "Mature" rating was ranked most enjoyed by consumers, while those posting works most frequently posted "Teen and Up". Only 16% of those who had posted works to AO3 said they had never posted M/M, while 69% of consumers "Strongly Enjoyed" M/M works.

To see more analysis, including transcripts of all the data shown on the graphs, please view the full results on AO3 for both ratings and relationship types.

[shadebloopnik]

Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

[zarnzarn]

Epic post canon fluff for the soul!

-

"Athena, help, help!" Odysseus hisses, darting behind her. Athena tenses up, grabbing her spear. "Your wife is after me!"

"She is your wife," Athena rolls her eyes, relaxing and letting the weapon dissolve. Odysseus presses himself between her stature and the wall, arranging her robes around him to make it seem she was sitting on the settee alone.

"As are you," Odysseus says pointedly. The delusion never fails to make an odd rush of emotion go through her, something both bashful and giddy and embarrassed to be feeling both. "And speak softer, she's going to hear you."

"What did you do anyway?" Athena sighs, leaning back against him and stifling a grin as he squawks at the heavy weight of her. "Penelope is a calm, rational woman- she's not one usually to send you running like this."

"What are you talking about?" Odysseus says, outrage muffled behind her. "Calm and rational- do you know she once made me fistfight a merchant who she thought was giving us low quality carpets for our wedding? Carpets, Athena!"

"I don't know how you two keep this kingdom running," Athena sighs, shaking her head as she picks her weaving back up. Two arms sneak around her waist, and she shifts downwards with a soft smile no one can see, letting him hug her tight as if he can squeeze his affection into her body. She does not know how it continues to feel like this, even ten years later, like every day is filled with nothing but satisfaction and content and happiness. "What-"

"Athena!" Telemachus crashes into the door as he loses grip on the marble flooring with his old sandals that really need to be burnt. He shakes his head and turns to run at her, throwing himself at her side like intends to crawl behind as well, like he is not a lad of twenty-six summers now. "Mom is- oh, hi, dad!"

"Hey, Tele," Odysseus says warmly, and Athena begs for patience as they both try to adjust themselves behind her. "Did she see you?"

"No! But-"

"What," Athena slams her hands down on the loom. "-did you two even do? And why am I collateral in your foolishness?"

"Because we're your favourites," Telemachus says shamelessly. She regrets the day she and Penelope decided to leave the sweet child alone with his insufferable brat of a father for that holiday they took together around the island. He was never quite the same ever again. "And shhh, she's gonna hear you!"

"Let her," Athena says mutinously. "And you're wrong- Diomedes is my favourite. The calmest, quietest one of all of my students."

"Then stop sending him away to guide youngsters on magical quests!" Penelope snaps as she storms in. Athena is ashamed to admit she quails back at the furious entrance with wide eyes. "Maybe then I'd get someone else in this house who isn't an absolute fool!"

"Penelope-" She says, as if she's done something wrong and she is also not an ancient goddess of war who fought the Titans themselves.

"Athena," Penelope says dangerously. "Where are those rascals?"

Said rascals are frozen still like deer behind her, so much so she barely remembers she's there. "What... rascals?"

Penelope wears a look of incredulity at the terrible attempt at a lie, something that Athena also shares in vague disbelief at her own self, before suddenly changing her tune, looking for all the world a weary, middle-aged, fond woman.

"My darling Athene," she coos, sweet as honey. "Beloved husband mine. Where are those annoying brats, please tell me?"

Athena's heart skips a beat and her fingers stutter on her shuttle.

This nonsense had all started some accursed months ago when she had woken up one morning beside Penelope, Odysseus already gone ahead for the morning to bathe, Athena pressed into the warmth he'd left behind after a particularly bad migraine the previous night.

"I am- not your husband," she manages, trying not to blush at the words. "I do not why you insist on calling me so."

Penelope pouts.

Then Penelope had stretched and thrown an arm and leg over her, and suddenly she was wide awake as the other nuzzled into her neck and murmured, "Good morning, husband."

Athena had burned for that one brief moment, then abruptly teleported out of there to Odysseus in their bathhouse, wading into the water with all her clothes on, babbling apologies and awkward explanations to the bewildered man, while fighting the sudden mortifying realisation of Why have I been sleeping in their marital bed? followed shortly by WHY HAVE THEY BEEN LETTING ME?

And after Odysseus had gotten the whole story out of her- she had not been hysterical, fuck off, Odysseus- he had almost laughed himself sick with mirth. Then after she'd bellowed at him to take it seriously, he'd chuckled and swam closer to her.

Athena had not slipped into the water in shock.

"I won't lie, I do like the sound of it, though," Odysseus had purred. Swam closer and placed his hands on her hips, scalding hot and real. "Penelope would look good with two husbands, don't you think? What say, Pallas Athena, will you be my wife too?"

It had hit her like a sword to the gut, the realisation that he was teasingly seducing her, and it hit like a second sword to the face that even if he didn't really mean it, she wouldn't mind, which was a horrifying development to suddenly be aware of, and the result of that was-

"CEASE!" She had shouted and splashed the entire floor in her mad scramble to get away from him, Odysseus cackling behind her. She had promptly gotten as far away from the entire mad island of Ithaka as she could, and then picked a fight with poor Eros, who was probably the only innocent party in this whole situation.

But after that, they had not stopped, the bastards that they were- went about calling her that all the time, introduced her to people with the title they felt like inflicting on her that day, held her close with the same casual possession they used with each other.

"Are you worried about being the second?" Penelope says brazenly, bangles jingling as she puts her hands on her hips. "Don't worry, love, once I get my hands on Odysseus, you will be my one and only, and we can replace that donkey I call a son as well. Now, I heard you talking to them, where are they?"

"Aw, how come I don't get the title of donkey?" Odysseus says as he peeks out from behind her, and Penelope's face becomes full of rage.

"YOU-!" She hitches up her skirts and chases her laughing husband around the room, shouting insults and curses.

Athena sits there silently, still trying to recover from what Penelope had said so casually to her.

Maybe- maybe it wasn't a joke after all? Were they actually serious-

"You know they are not joking, right?" Telemachus says, sudden sharp knowing in his voice. She looks over at him, and he smiles softly, lifting himself to his knees as he makes his way past her open hair to press a fond kiss to her cheekbone. "They really love you, ma."

Athena makes a truly undignified gurgling noise. Then narrows her eyes. "Manipulation."

"It can be manipulation and truth!" Telemachus says as he reaches out and straightens out the threads of her look that had gotten tangled in all the mess. "I am the product of your intellectual labour, am I not?"

"Are you?" Athena grumbles darkly, and he laughs high and sharp. He has dozens of suitors of his own now, children of heroes and gods alike- and he has every last one wrapped around his finger as easy as breathing, toying with them all so gently they can't do anything but enjoy it as he lazily chooses between them, all father's charm and mother's beauty and smile as sharp as any wolf's.

Athena is so incredibly proud of him.

"Yes," He says, then slumps against her as they watch Penelope pull off her sandals to throw at Odysseus. She misses, and a vase goes crashing to the floor instead as Odysseus slips past her once more. "Mom really is in love with you, though. I can tell."

"I-"

"She knows that too. But maybe come for dinner more often, that's enough to make her day." Athena turns to look at him, raises an eyebrow. Telemachus smiles sunnily. "And there isn't a mortal or Olympian alive who knows what the hell kind of insane dynamic you have going on with dad, so I'm not going to bother asking."

"You used to be such a sweet child," Athena says despairingly. "Why were you tainted so."

Telemachus guffaws.

Another vase crashes to the floor and Athena sighs.

"My most beloved," She calls out, words fitting awkwardly in her mouth. Still, it's worth it to see them both freeze and whip around to stare at her with wide eyes and red cheeks, strangulation and excuses forgotten. She snorts, Telemachus giggles excitedly. "Please. May we forget these petty squabbles and go to lunch? I find myself hungry today."

"Yes!" The two of them practically teleport to her side, looking up at her with adoring, worshipful expressions. Telemachus gestures something encouraging in the side of her vision, and goes on ahead to get the cook ready, successfully escaping his mother's ire.

Athena smiles. Builds up her courage and leans down once on either side to peck them both on the lips and pushes down a smug smile at their stunned expressions as she straightens back up, relishing in the satisfaction of getting one over them after weeks of teasing.

"Well?" She says as she reaches the door, turning back to see them clutching at each other and staring at her, cheeks scarlet. Such beautiful idiots they are, the both of them. She huffs in amusement. "I'll let whoever reaches first call me their wife in front of Hermes tomorrow."

Odysseus and Penelope both shout in dismay and start tussling with each other to reach the door first and Athena laughs as she shifts into an owl and flies overhead, towards yet another day with her favourite people.

[velvet-games]

vox needs to go to bed

[hype-blue-fixation]

Pt 2/2 | The Purest Kind of Entertainment | SFW Tickle Fic [RadioRose QPR]

If you'd like some extra context, here's part one. Otherwise enjoy!

A soft knock brought a certain woman to the door. “Oh, hello Alastor! What are you doing here at this unsatanly hour?” Rosie chimed. Before he could say anything, she already grabbed his shoulders and tossed him inside her emporium. Whipping him around like a ragdoll and all he could do was smile. Genuinely smile.

“To put things simply, I may be in need of your services.”

“You already know anything in the 9 rings is yours if I can help it, darlin’!”

They took a seat in her tea room, where he marveled at all her decorations and boxes of goodies. She handed him a box of fingers. At first refusing, but then deciding that a little snack might help with nerves. “So, there’s this silly thing someone said today. It doesn’t really bother me all too much, but it did make me wonder. With you being the best and most dangerous matchmaker in all of Hell, what are ways you’ve seen demons show deep affection for each other?”

Rosie almost looked surprised. “Did someone finally catch your fancy?” “None whatsoever. This is purely for the sake of deals and appeals, my dear.”

In her many hundred years of being a hellborn overlord, Rosie learned how to read anyone. Especially her intimate friend. She already knew not to suggest anything remotely related to sex or kissing, and that cuddles were something he’d only recently come to terms with “tolerating” exclusively with her. To break the silence of her thinking, she suggested the obvious: licking faces, love bites, clawing into each other’s flesh.

“I’m well aware of the ways that cannibals show affection. That would never fly outside your lovely little community…or the twisted kinky minds that deserve to be double dead.” Alastor commented.

“Of course, of course.” Rosie chuckled, lost halfway in thought. She proceeded to rattle off other things, such as songs, poetry, and art designed for your loved one. A thoughtful gift, a night out, a nice dance, playing a good ole fashioned board game in candlelight. Her strategies were endless, and some even piqued his interest.

Having the sense that she was trying to only feed him ideas that he liked, a playful twist came to his smile. “That’s all fine and well, but what about the other ideas you’ve got?”

“The others?”

“The ones you assume I wouldn’t like.”

Rosie hummed. “Kisses, nude cuddling, bondage, se–”

“You’d be quite right.”

They both laughed. The sweet sound gave her a thought. “What about tickles?”

“Pardon?”

“Tickles! It’s one of those strange things I’m not sure if you’d like.”

Alastor blinked and cocked his head sideways. At the very least, it was something he never considered as a way to enjoy or deepen a relationship. His only experiences were as a young child when his mother played games like 3 little pigs on his toes and Noah’s Ark on his arms. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to try.

“I will see if I like that one.” he said plainly, as if he were signing up for a science experiment. Rosie’s eyebrow raised curiously, but she wouldn’t deny him the request or pass up an opportunity to teach an old demon new tricks.

A puff of magic removed his jacket and hung it neatly in the closet. She gently guided his hands to the back of his head so that his only defense was a dress shirt and suspender straps. Her hands floated at his sides. He fearlessly looked her in the eyes, almost daring her to do something. And something she did.

Her claws dug into his side, ripping out a loud scream of staticy surprise. She immediately pulled back to observe him bent forward. Expecting another attack. He kept his hands on his head suggesting he was still curious about whatever this was. Again her nails dug into his sides, there to stay. At first he couldn’t even get a laugh out, only quick deep gasps. His voice gradually found a way to be heard in each gasp, taking on the form of laughter. He managed to barely keep his hands on his head. Eyes shot wide. “God! Stop! Stop!” He forced the begs to fit into each breath.

Rosie’s claws gently rested on his sides to give him a break. His heart was pounding and small giggles trailed out in the aftermath. “You do know you could have stopped me at any point, right?” Rosie leaned in, and he suddenly remembered that he could put his arms down. “Do you like that?”

Alastor fought to gain his composure, which only resulted in a cocky smile. “It’s definitely a tool I can use.”

Rosie chuckled and slowly spidered her hands toward his armpits. He froze in complete anticipation. Wondering what she’d do next. “Tickling can be a fun activity for you and your loved ones. I can go into the chemistry of it, if you like. But it can also be a tool for power.”

He looked up into her void eyes. Deeply invested in every word. Until her fingers suddenly wiggled into his armpits and his entire body seized up. Arms pressed to his sides, lower body twisted into an unnatural shape. Joy in his smile but genuine fear in his eyes as he realized his body’s inability to move or fight back. The magic of her hands put him into a state of powerless paralysis. He barely managed to force himself to breathe, which brought along little giggles with it. Rosie’s smile widened to show she was enjoying this, perhaps a bit too much.

Her face came dangerously close to his. “Do you feel scared?” she asked in a teasing tone.

“Ha! N– No!” a stream of airy laughter kept his reply quiet.

But she knew better than that. He was terrified. Excited. Enjoying the experience. But enough was enough without a break. She slipped her hands out and he immediately hugged her. Pulling her so close to his body that it was a flesh prison. He softly giggled in her ear as he recovered from the intense moment. “Don’t do…that…again…” he said between laughs, but they both knew he didn’t mean it. 

She pouted and pulled back to look at his red face. “But you liked it! And you were so so so cute!” she cupped his cheeks in her hands.

He rolled his eyes and took one last deep sigh. “Just because you’re not anyone else, I’ll be square. I…I like it.”

“What do you like about it?” Rosie seemed pleasantly surprised and curious.

“Just promise you’ll keep quiet about what I’m going to tell you or I’ll destroy the entire town.”

“As you should.” Rosie seemed entirely unfazed by his threat.

He slowly calmed down, now feeling calm and at ease. All the tension disappeared, replaced only with peaceful and fuzzy thoughts about his lady friend. How lucky he was to have someone like her in spite of every awful thing he was. “Aside from being a fun and relaxing activity, I quite liked being able to be vulnerable and still feel…safe. You’re the only person I’ve felt that way with.”

Rosie leaned in with kissy lips. “Is this a love confession? From the great Radio Demon?”

“Sure, if it can be a pla…platon…p…friendly kind of love.”

“The term you’re looking for is ‘platonic,’ dear.”

“Yes, tha– AT!” His voice peaked as she gave him a swift surprise tickle. 

The two stared as if they expected the other person to make a move first. Rosie chuckled, a playfully sinister kind of sound. “Speaking of vulnerable, you love being afraid of me and what I can do to you, don’t you?”

Alastor had to really take on a moment of introspection. His pride screamed at him to bicker and resist. But the softened depth of his heart spoke openly. “Only because it’s you, Rose.” he said. And just to appease the ego, he added, “But remember, I can stop you any time I like. You only have power because I choose to give it to you.”

Rosie could say nothing against that. Whatever they had, something beyond normal friendship but not in the realm of the romantic, was something they didn’t truly understand. But they were glad to have it. They were both happy, relaxed, and emotionally closer in the moment. The voices of guilt in Alastor’s head were finally put to rest behind his smile, right where they belonged.

[hippolotamus]

Hi my love, I've got quite the order for you so I'll do them one at a time

📝📝📝📝📝📝

Hello, dearest, your words have at long last arrived. Like Etta James but not at all. Also asked by @wikiangela @eddiebabygirldiaz @stereopticons @daffi-990 🫶

“Are you expecting anyone?” Lucy asks. She sets down her early afternoon coffee, looking curiously in the direction of the front door.   Buck shakes his head, unable to verbally answer around the large bite of pastry in his mouth. It’s Sunday, so it’s possible someone’s come to call, but no one mentioned dropping by.  “I’ll go see who it is.” He starts to push his chair back.  “No, stay here,” Lucy insists, motioning for him to sit down again. “I’m sure it’s no one.” Her boots click across the floor and echo in the hallway, the sound growing more faint as she nears the door.  Buck strains to hear any bit of conversation once he hears the handle turn. He’s completely given up trying to concentrate on his book anyway. The answering voice is masculine, not clear enough for him to understand what’s being said. There’s something familiar about the cadence, though. Like hearing the notes of a song without the vocals, or played on a different instrument. His brain stirs excitedly, but can’t seem to place it correctly.  At any rate he should check on Lucy. She’s been talking too long for their caller to be insignificant, though she hasn’t invited them in, either. He picks up his coffee, not wanting it to get any colder than it has, and carries it with him.  “Luce?” He calls. She’s standing in the doorway, obscuring his view of whoever it is. “Who is… it?” Lucy turns to face him and several things happen at once. Time stops, speeds up, slows down. Buck is standing in his foyer, sitting at a bar in Virginia, laying in a field under the cover of millions of stars, stepping onto a cold unforgiving train platform. The porcelain cup drops from his fingertips, splintering when it crashes.  His mouth opens to say something or scream or cry, he’s not exactly sure. Eventually a single word, broken and foreign on his tongue from disuse, escapes. “Eddie?”

[zarasu]

Romantic bingqiu with queerplatonic liushen and eventual queerplatonic bingliushen, pretend relationship

---

When Binghe is in the abyss, Lqg gets into a bit of a conundrum.

Political peak lord reasons make him have to find a partner, as quickly as possible. Seeing his friend strangely upset about him, Sqq goes to reassure him that he could get any girl he wants and gets an awkward confession instead that Lqg, in fact, isn’t interested in anyone either romantically or sexually and probably never will be. Sqq, bro that he is, makes a suggestion. They’re going to pretend to be a couple so Lqg doesn’t have to get together with anyone that would have expectations. 

This goes surprisingly well. Lqg visits Sqq so often that he might as well live in the bamboo house too and no one doubts that they’re a couple. They get along well after a few initial hiccups and quickly grow very fond of each other until they’re inseparable. 

After almost two years of all that, Binghe returns from the abyss and, through the power of communication and Lqg’s bluntness, makes up with Sqq and returns to Qing Jing Peak as a disciple, miraculously recovered from death.

At this point, Binghe doesn’t feel entitled to his Shizun’s love, so when he finds out that Liushen are “together”, he quietly accepts it even though his heart breaks a little.

Several months pass that look somewhat like this: 

Lqg goes on hunts, brings Sqq back interesting things and is overall very content with his life. He also expects Sqq to eventually get together with the disciple he acted like a grieving widow about for so long. He’s secure enough in his relationship with Sqq to know that it won’t change that much, even when Bingqiu happens.

Sqq is ecstatic that Binghe is back and that he has somewhat forgiven him. He can’t stop touching him and making him spend time with Sqq and squeezing as much time and attention out of Binghe as he can while wondering why he still wants more. He’s also very confused as to why he keeps getting upset when Binghe talks too much to any girl or is out of his sight for more than two hours. Lastly, Binghe seems strangely down, but Sqq is sure it’s just the lingering trauma from the abyss. He also keeps the fact that his relationship with Lqg is purely queerplatonic a secret, partly because he barely even remembers these days that they’re pretending to be romantic and partly because he doesn’t want to betray Lqg’s trust.

Meanwhile, Binghe is devastated every time he sees Liushen being tender or comfortable with each other and more or less depressed the rest of the time. He looks at Sqq yearningly 16 hours a day and cries into his pillow every night. He hates Lqg with all of his soul, but can’t even find that much fault with him except that he doesn’t cook or clean for Sqq and that he doesn’t flatter and admire Sqq enough and that he isn’t jealous enough and does Sqq even feel loved??? 

He goes through a whole arc of cooking and cleaning for Sqq before he realises that it makes him too sad to do that when Sqq will never return his love. He also decimates three entire demon clans and the demon realm is weeping and desperately trying to find Binghe a bride so he’ll calm down.

It all comes to a head when Binghe decides he can’t take it anymore and packs his little rucksack to leave Qing Jing Peak. He only gets halfway down the mountain before Lqg catches him in the act and confronts him because: Is he going to abandon Sqq? Does he not love him after all??

Binghe tensely tells him that he doesn’t need to worry, Binghe isn’t going to try and steal him from Lqg. He was just about to leave.

Lqg replies that he better get his butt back up there and explains the situation to him.

Having his worldview rearranged, Binghe quietly goes back to the dorms and takes a few days to process the information. Lqg and Sqq are together but not romantically? Not even sexually? Binghe isn’t quite sure how someone can be with Sqq in a purely platonic way but he’s prepared to accept it. It takes him a while, but eventually, he reaches the conclusion that: if he has the chance to be with Sqq as long as he accepts that Lqg is going to be a part of their life too, he’s gonna take it.

Meanwhile, Lqg has told Sqq all of his confrontation with Binghe and Sqq is highkey panicking. What if Binghe hates him now for being gay for him? Probably gay. Admittedly, likely gay. What if he’s disgusted with him?? He wavers between going to talk to Binghe about it and avoiding him at all costs. 

In the end, it’s Binghe who confronts him and they have a long talk that ends with them snogging on the floor, Binghe crying, and two emotionally constipated love confessions.

It takes some time, but the three find a way to fit together. Bingqiu are unbearable the first while and Lqg goes on many, many hunts to not hear anything he doesn’t want to hear. But, eventually, Lqg returns to being a frequent visitor and even spends the night there now and then. Binghe grows… fond… of Lqg. He supposes. At least somewhat. Lqg thinks Binghe is a little strange, but he’s Lqg’s now, so that’s alright. Sqq can be a bit strange too. Bingqiu are still unbearable, but what can you do? In the end, they’re happy in their own way, all three of them.

[dianneking]

On The Seashore (Brienne x Reader)

Hi all! For my weekly fic challenge, @scream-queenlover suggested this prompt (#2584) @promptsforthestrugglingauthor :

"I'm tired of adventures. How about we just get married and stay home?" "I'm sorry…did you just fucking propose?”

You and Brienne have been adventuring together for years, and while you enjoy the friendship and camaraderie that the two of you share, you can't help but wish for more, maybe…but is it in the cards?

Tags: Brienne x Reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Swearing, Brienne is an adventurer, Aroace spectrum, Brienne is on the aroace spectrum,  Friendly Banter, Dialogue-Heavy, Queerplatonic Vibes, Second Person POV, Reader is a woman.

I am not sure how it turned into a queerplatonic fic with a Brienne on the aro/ace spectrum but hey, happy belated aro/ace week. Link to AO3 in the title below:

On The Seashore

“I swear, if I have to shake sand from my boots one more time, I'll snap.” You grumbled, pulling once again your weathered traveling boots on your feet. 

“Might I remind you that getting this close to the coastline was your idea, milady?” 

“Brienne, it's been three years we're on the road together, how many times do I have to tell you to just call me by my name?” 

You could see her lips slightly tilting upwards and you knew her dry wit was about to come out to play once more.

“One more time, milady.”

You snorted. “One more time, my ass. I haven't been a lady since we took to the road. Just a common adventurer, that's all.”

“There's absolutely nothing common about you, milady, and if anyone dares to even imply anything of the sort, I'd be ready to duel them.” 

“Yeah we've learned that in Sandstone with that one guy who was a little bit too friendly…”

“He grabbed your arm!” 

“I know but we were trying to keep a low profile and you beating him up didn't really…”

“He insulted your honor! And mine too!”

You sighed. “Yes I know. Let's try not to beat anyone up in this village though. I'd like to lay low for a while.” 

“Well we still have half a day of walking in front of us before we get there, that is, if Your Grace doesn't keep stopping every ten minutes to shake sand off your precious feet.”

“Well excuse me for not wanting the whole beach in my boots.” 

The two of you kept going towards the village, bickering as you had become accustomed to over the time spent together. 

“This must be heaven!” You kicked your feet up, forgetting your previous adversity for the sand, your boots next to your wicker seat in the cool shade of the palm trees. 

“You have pretty low standards for the afterlife, milady, if all you require is a seat in the shade.” 

“Brienne! Was your mission successful?” 

You looked up at her silhouette, the sun behind her transforming her short hair in a golden halo. She looked even more like a goddess than usual.

“I have drinks and I have work opportunities so yes, I'd say my mission was indeed successful. And no duels yet, so you can rest easily.”

She handed you a tankard, keeping the second one in her hand. 

You lost no time chugging down the first half in a long sip.

“Ahhhhhh now that's something that was sorely missing in my heaven. A drink! I could kiss you right now, Brienne!”

She did not reply, taking a sip of her own tankard, but as she sat down in the wicker chair next to your own, you noticed her ears were slightly pinker. How had she managed to get sunburned in such a short time? Oh well, she was very fair-skinned so it probably took very little. That might be why she always had her hood or her helmet on most days. But the Dornian heat and the quiet reputation of this village had convinced even the uptight Brienne of Tarth to lighten her kit. 

“So you were talking about work?” 

She swallowed her drink and replied, her voice uncharacteristically flustered:

“Yes. Hmm, well, they're looking for night guards for their granary. They've had quite the bountiful harvest and they want to keep it safe until the village fair.”

“Are there actual threats to the granary?” 

“Not really. Seems to be mostly a precaution.”

“So a cushy gig. How's the pay?” 

“Not great, but they'd let us stay here at this cottage on the beach for free and add one golden coin each per week.”

“Sunshine, the seaside, free lodging and decent pay? Sign me up for life!”

“What about your beloved adventures? What about being a free spirit and roaming the world?”

"I'm tired of adventures. How about we just get married and stay here?"

The silence that followed alerted you that something was wrong. You turned to your companion.

“Brienne?”

She was looking at you as if you had sprouted a second head. 

"I'm sorry...did you just fucking propose?”

Woah. Brienne of Tarth, swearing? That was almost unheard of from your very proper companion, and only in very serious situations. 

Not that you’d mind. Marrying her, that is. Quite the contrary. The past three years had easily been the happiest of your life, and you knew it had to do with her. Her constant presence by your side, her dry humor, her unwavering support and loyalty…she had become a column you hadn’t even realized how much you were leaning against until you took a step back and allowed yourself to admire her. And she was beautiful. Gods, was she beautiful. 

You set your tankard down beside your chair, and turned to her, lifting your chin, fixing your eyes in hers with equal parts trepidation and boldness. 

“What if I did?” 

“This is not a subject for jesting, milady!”

“Who said I was jesting? And for all the Gods, stop calling me milady like I am some sort of court princess.”

“But you cannot...We wouldn’t…We’re two women!” 

“Believe me, I noticed.” You smirked up at her, letting your eyes roam her tall figure, allowing her to see the appreciation in your eyes. She spluttered, her face turning a bright red that had no correlation with her previous sun exposure. (Had her reddened ears from before also been…oh. Well. Who’d have known. You might even have a chance then.)

“Milady! I…That’s not appropriate! The law doesn’t-”

“Brienne. For once, this is not about the law, religion, traditions, nor customs.” You stood up, and placed your hands on the armrests of her seat, boxing her in. Tall as she was, her head was level with yours. You had never been so close to her. You could see beads of perspiration crowning her forehead, you could drown in the blueness of her eyes, wide open in shock, both at your boldness and at your closeness.

She hadn’t pushed you away though. That had to count for something.

“Brienne?”

“Y-yes?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, hesitant and softer than you’d ever heard before. This was not Brienne the warrior speaking. She was Brienne the woman. 

The woman you’d fallen for. 

“I am going to tell you something. You just say the word, and we won’t have to talk about this again. We’ll go back to our adventuring as it was before and nothing will have changed. But I don’t want you to think this is some sort of joke. I am serious.”

She nodded, and you could see her lower lip quivering slightly, and her eyes widening even more. 

“There’s nobody else in the whole world I would like to spend the rest of my life with. Nobody else I would gladly take an arrow for, nobody else I want to guard my back as I guard theirs. If there’s anything that the past three years have taught me is that my days of lonely wandering are done, as long as I can have you by my side. Would…would you consider becoming more than just traveling companions?”

She bit her lip, and let her gaze drop to her knees, as if unable to look you in the eyes anymore.

Oh. 

The silence stretched for what felt like ages. The usually pleasant sounds of waves crashing against the seashore and seagulls crying out to each other felt like a dissonant song to your ears, when all you wanted to hear was her voice.

But you guessed her silence was telling you all there was to know. 

“Very well.” You tried to keep the disappointment out of your voice as you straightened up, hands detaching from the wicker armrests, setting your companion free once again. “I’ll just… go check the water’s temperature. Be back in a bit.” 

You almost scoffed at yourself. Sure. Check the water temperature. Like you gave a damn about the ocean right now. It could all dry up for all you cared. 

You resisted the urge to kick at the sand in anger and frustration though. Mainly because you knew Brienne could be watching you, and you wanted to keep what little decorum you could. How could you be so stupid? To think that she might return your feelings, that you might have a chance with her. Ha. Clearly the blazing sun of Dorne had burnt off your common sense. 

You let the cool seawater lap at your bare feet, forcing yourself to look at the horizon and take a deep breath of salty breeze. 

It was okay. You’d gone through heartbreak before. You’d move on. 

Another deep intake of breath.

You would not allow those tears that you felt prickling at your eyelids to fall. You were a grown woman. An adventurer. Not a silly girl with a crush. 

A third breath. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sounds of seagulls, trying to shove all the feelings back in the little blackened and beaten container you called heart. 

“Nobody has ever told me that.”

“HOLY SH- Brienne, you almost gave me a heart attack!” You twirled towards her, a hand on your chest as you tried to get your breathing back in control. How a woman of her size had managed to sneak behind you without you noticing was a testament both to her athleticism and to how out of it you were.

She pinned you with her gaze, hard and unflinching. The soft, blushing Brienne was gone. This was Brienne the warrior, once again. You realized you had fallen for her, too. 

“Nobody has ever…wanted me.” She said that as if it was part question, part accusation. You didn’t know what to make of it. You shrugged.

“Well, apparently they’re all dumb as rocks and with no functioning eyes.”

She snorted. An inelegant sound that you found as endearing as the rest of her. 

“Seriously, Brienne. You probably have a lot of people that admire you from afar. I’m just the one with the least amount of self-preservation instincts of them all.”

“You seem to have been doing pretty well so far.”

“Well, if you don’t smite me for daring to punch above my weight, I should live to see another day!” You smiled up at her, cheekily, trying to lighten up the mood. You weren’t going to give up on the friendship and camaraderie you two had built together just because your advances had been turned down. A fool, you might be, but not an utter imbecile. 

You could see her lips pull up at the corners in a tiny but unmistakable smile at your antics.

“There it is! The smile of mercy! I shall live somewhat longer! Yay!”

She shook her head and gave you a small shove, almost throwing you completely off-balance. 

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ll take impossible as a title over milady anytime, so yep, that’s who I am! Also, please don’t throw me into the ocean, I can’t swim.”

“You can’t?”

“Nope! I’m a land rat, not a sea rat. Can you?”

“Of course! Everyone on Tarth learns how to.”

“Well, you’ll have to teach me at some point, but throwing me in is not how I’d like to go about it, thank you very much.”

Her hand landed on your shoulder, gripping it strongly, and you looked up to see that the smile had gone, and her expression was now closed off, and serious. 

“I…wouldn’t be opposed to it.” She ground out, as if it was physically difficult for her to even say it. 

“To teaching me how to swim?”

“No, to a… relationship. I…I like to spend time with you.” She looked like she was telling the truth but also like she was extremely uncomfortable doing so. You felt your heart break again, this time for her.

“As do I, but we can still have that. This is not an ultimatum, Brienne, I would never put you in that position.” Just the thought she would be willing to start a relationship she clearly wasn’t keen on not to lose your company was…both horrifying and heartwarming, to be honest. 

“It’s not that. I…I am not good with…romance. It doesn’t come as easy to me as it seems to be for other people. I don’t know how to go about it.”

You put your own hand on top of hers, on your shoulder, trying to find the right words.

“Hey. There is no right or wrong way. And there is no hurry. We can give it a try and see where it goes. If not, we’ll just be good friends that adventure together, alright?”

She seemed to ponder this, her eyes on your hand covering her own. You gave her the time to do so. 

“I would like that.”

You smiled tenderly up at her. This was so hard for her, always used to be the paradigm of perfection, of valor, of morals. The fact that she was able to challenge herself enough to go out on a limb with a relationship for you, of all people, made your heart skip a beat in your chest. 

“We will take things as slowly as you’d like, and you feel free to tell me at any time if you’re uncomfortable, okay?”

You could see the tension leave her eyes, and her face opened up in a hopeful smile. 

“You’d do that…for me?”

“But of course! We have all the time in the world, milady!” You smirked, throwing the title back at her and seeing her resigned grimace at the nickname.

“No more miladys, alright?” 

“That’s what I’ve been saying for years! Now. That drink is getting warm and that’s not something we can allow. Shall we?”

You gallantly offered her your hand to hold in a very bad imitation of a nobleman asking a woman at court to dance.  She shook her head, but accepted your hand, and you both turned your back to the sun, looking at your conjoined shadows on the sand in front of you with a look of incredulous joy on both of your faces. 

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[qprpbj]

it’s all becoming clear <3

qpr pony johnny fic!! read on ao3 :D

Dally throws his hand down on the table, grunting. He pushes himself out from the decaying Curtis dinner table and storms off toward the door. “Y’all can go to hell, I’m outta here.”

“Ay, don’t be like that, Dallas. You put up a good fight,” hollers Two-Bit from the table.

“Sodapop’s bein’ a goddamn grifter.”

Soda yells something across the room, something like, “man, you wouldn’t know good griftin’ if it slapped you in the face!” and bursts out laughing, along with Two-Bit and Steve on either side of him. Darry’s sitting at the head of the table with his own cards tucked neatly in his hand while the other half of the gang is killing themselves laughing. It’s a loud Friday night in the Curtis household.

Johnny and Ponyboy ain’t nowhere to be found around the poker table, but instead are holed up together on the couch. Rather, supposed, Pony’s got his wobbly knees tucked up into his chest with his sketchbook balancing ontop of them as he stares up and down at Johnny — who’s got his head bowed in a notebook with his legs and feet splayed across the sofa underneath Pony’s legs — trying his best to capture his likeness onto the page.

finish on ao3!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/58507156

[byfulcrums]

no one cares but i don't think tim and kon dated or will ever date, however i am 100% sure that they had/have the biggest crushes on each other and never found out

[chillingxy]

Thank you for telling me

Final post for the @hermitshippingbigbang , this one is for @voidratwrites and his amazing fic ships and anchors.

I had an amazing time working in this event and with this team. This fic is amazing and I higly recommend it!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52819231

Go check everyone's work for this event, it was a lot of fun!

[goldenduoses]

i miss u forever c!goldenduo

theyre strictly queerplatonic AND THE CHARACTERS before u get any ideas [speechless]

CTOMMY DESIGN BY URS TRULY !! MY FAVORITE DEMON HYBRID BEING >_< (he uses every pronouns available) ft. cpurps big ass jacket

[anarcho-commeownism]

Hey gays. Yes, you, there, behind the screen. Are you a fic writer? Do you love queerplatonic relationships? Do you dislike that AO3 does not have a queerplatonic relationship tag with the other relationship types? Do you dislike that AO3 is run by a racist and zionist organization?

Good news! SquidgeWorld, a fork of AO3, has recently added queerplatonic to their relationship categories!

[ img id: screenshot of squidgeworld.org's relationship category infobox, reading: Relationships, pairings, orientations [red icon with venus symbol] F/F: female/female relationships [purple icon with hermaphroditic symbol] F/M: female/male relationships [green icon with 'and' symbol] Gen: no romantic or sexual relationships, or relationships which are not the main focus of the work [blue icon with mars symbol] M/M: male/male relationships [icon with green, purple, red, and blue quadrants] Multi: more than one kind of relationship, or a relationship with multiple partners [rainbow icon with tilde symbol] QPR: Queer Platonic relationships [black icon with herschel uranus symbol] Other relationships [blank icon] The work was not put in any categories /end img id]

[velvet-games]

Hi!! I posted on AO3 for the first time!!! I have a backstory for QPR transfemme4transfemme radiostatic that I usually keep in mind when I draw them, so if you’re curious about that, you can take a look :) It’s also a general character study about each person’s relationship with their gender/sexuality, their art, and other people (family, friends, lovers). 

And huge huge thank you to @grownupchangeling for reading my draft and encouraging me to publish this!! ily forever <33

Warnings if you don’t want to read the tags/want minimal spoilers: period-typical bigotry/internalized bigotry (racism, homophobia/biphobia/aro/acephobia, transphobia), child abuse, alcoholism, gender dysphoria, body image issues, violence, cannibalism

Summary:

Vox wants to be someone's favorite, and Alastor wants someone to be his. After living short, very painful lives, they find each other.

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)

Rating: Mature 

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence 

Relationships: Alastor/Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Vox (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Character(s), Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Character(s) Characters: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor's Mother (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor's Father (Hazbin Hotel), Original Hazbin Hotel Character(s), Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Vox's Father (Hazbin Hotel) Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Murder, Child Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Character Study, Cannibalism, Period-Typical Homophobia, Internalized Acephobia, Internalized Transphobia, "Queer" used as a slur, Body Image, Queerplatonic relationship, Period-Typical Racism, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Human Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Loves Alastor's Mother (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Vox Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Gender Dysphoria, MTF Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), MTF Vox (Hazbin hotel), Sex, (very briefly and vaguely described), Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Vox is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Bisexual Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is on the Aromantic Spectrum (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is on the Asexuality Spectrum (Hazbin Hotel)

[s-exy-sapphillean]

Finally coming back to Runaways AU posting. If the original concept interests you but you don't like where i'm taking it, please consider what i said here.

(There's a lot so i included a cut here to not make it fill up your dash too much)

Quick disclaimer: queerplatonic jeaneil is very dear to me. I do not ship them romantically. Their dynamic in this AU is fairly complicated and codependent and the presence of strong emotions & physical affection doesn't mean their bond is romantic. I of course can't stop anyone from interpreting it whichever way they choose but i'd rather people don't insist that what i'm writing must be romantic because that's how they read it.

So. Neil & Jean + Elodie on the run together..

Neil of course is the one to teach Jean and Elodie english. He's an okay teacher, good enough that they get by and they improve fast enough. Neil however is simply not aware of a couple of accented words and anglicisms in his own vocabulary, so the moreau siblings have some random british words in their vocabulary

Physical affection is complicated for the boys. They both initially only know touch as something practical or to hurt. They are touch starved. But elodie is a child who gives and craves physical affection freely, so the boys gradually grow more used to giving and receiving affection through touch. Sleeping curled together becomes a necessity to keep warm wherever they're camping out but they eventually do it even when not necessary because it is comforting to have the other right there

After his mother got got, before joining up with jean, neil felt kinda directionless & defeated because without his mother there to push for it 15 year old neil doesn't really see the point of running forever if the only possible end is eventual death. Then he meets jean & elodie, starts bonding with them & keeping them safe becomes his entire world. Like a "i'll get caught and killed eventually but as long as i'm alive i can at least make sure they're okay & will be fine when i'm gone" mentality because he doesnt understand that jean is equally as fucked if the butcher finds them.

They bicker a LOT, getting into verbal fights over a lot of small things. They are constantly stressed with no outlet except eachother. Neil for a long time is also just not coping well with witnessing elodie receiving such genuine love and care because it makes something in him burn with ugly jealousy. Jean for a while absolutely despises having to rely on essentially a stranger for so much when his own english is way too lacking to get around by himself.

As much as he doesn't cope well at all with his own jealousy and yearning for being cared for, neil does also become fiercely protective of elodie pretty quickly. If she gets to have what he can't have then she needs to be able to keep that and not become like him. His "one of us has to make it" mantra we know from canon becomes entirely focused on her.

They have pretended to be a couple a few times, simply because it is the easiest cover for why a teenager as clearly french as jean would be so close to some very clearly not french teenager

They kissed once or twice as like a "for the sake of the cover" thing, trying out if that works but unanimously decided it wouldn't. It just made neil feel queasy and uncomfortable and bisexual disaster jean is self aware enough to know that risking developing a hopeless onesided crush would be the worst in their situation

Little head kisses have kinda become a thing though. It's something jean did a lot to comfort elodie & once when neil was having a breakdown he did it to him while holding him and it helped so it just stuck

In millport their story is that jean & elodie's father had moved to the US with them for work and had been colleagues with neil's parents. When father moreau turned out to be abusive, neil's parents helped jean emancipate himself and gain custody of elodie, and helped them move away, letting neil go with them.

When they get to palmetto, most of the foxes do assume they're dating and the boys don't directly correct anyone out of worry it will raise too many eyebrows, so neil doesn't get to explain that he doesn't swing any direction until much later