#angstfluff

[weakheronicki]

Hi, I would like to place a request pleasee. Something like:

How would the Weak Hero Class boys react to you being asexual. Like, the first time they want to s3x with you, you reject them and tell them that you don't feel/like those things. And you keep rejecting them every time they ask

I would love it if you could do it, either way its okay if you can't

I Need Nothing More

Summary: How the weak hero class boys (Sieun, Suho, Baku, Gotak, Juntae, Seongje, Baek Jin) would react to finding out you’re asexual — the first time they try to initiate something sexual and you reject them, and how they handle repeated rejections. Contains: Character reactions, emotional exploration, mentions of rejection, frustration (especially Seongje), comfort, supportive dynamics. Relationship: Reader × Weak Hero boys (platonic/romantic depending on interpretation). Word count (approx.):4k (long reactions, semi-narrative style). TW: Discussions of sexual rejection, mentions of frustration/anger (Seongje), light emotional conflict.

Sieun

When you tell him you’re asexual and reject his advance, he falls silent for a moment. He’s not the type to make a fuss; instead, he studies you, as if trying to read your feelings. — “I see…” he murmurs, processing. He doesn’t push or pry, letting you share only what you want. Then, in his calm voice, he adds: — “Don’t worry. I don’t need that to stay by your side. What matters to me is how I feel when I’m with you.” And he proves it with actions: no pressure, no insistence, just quiet loyalty that shows nothing has changed for him.

Suho

Suho’s reaction is much more intense. When you reject him, his brows knit and he asks directly: — “So… is it that you don’t want to, or that you don’t want me?” It stings because he takes it personally at first. He needs an explanation, and even then, he doesn’t fully understand right away. Still, he’s not someone who’d force you. After a pause, he mutters: — “Alright… I don’t really get it, but if that’s who you are, then I’ll learn to live with it.” Over time, he realizes what he values most isn’t the physical side, but how important you make him feel. But in the beginning, there’s definitely a clash with his pride.

Baku

The first time you reject him, he laughs nervously and blurts: — “Wait, seriously? I thought you were just in a bad mood.” When you explain you simply don’t feel sexual attraction, he goes quiet for a beat, then covers it with a joke: — “Well, guess that means more time for games and stupid adventures, huh?” Behind the humor, there’s real respect. He doesn’t push, doesn’t sulk. Instead, he shifts naturally, finding other ways to bond. Baku shows affection sideways, but you can feel it.

Gotak

He reacts with immediate understanding. The moment you finish explaining, he either takes your hand or looks you dead in the eye and says: — “You don’t owe me an explanation. I just don’t want you to feel pressured around me.” For Gotak, loyalty and emotional closeness are far more important than anything physical. He never brings it up again unless you want to. His quiet patience and steady presence remind you he’s here because he chooses you, not because of what you can give him.

Juntae

With Juntae, things are awkward. He just stares, blinking in confusion. — “Huh? What do you mean you don’t like it? Doesn’t… doesn’t everyone like it?” It’s not malice, it’s just his inability to process new ideas. At first, he might even bring it up again later, thinking maybe you’ll change your mind. But he’s not trying to push; he genuinely doesn’t get it. Eventually, when he sees your resolve, he accepts it. He might never fully understand, but he adapts in his clumsy, roundabout way because being with you matters more.

Seongje

He’s the one who struggles the most. The rejection hits his pride and temper all at once. He may lash out immediately: — “Then what’s the point of this? Why are we even together?” It’s not that he wants to hurt you—it’s his frustration boiling over. For Seongje, passion and intensity are part of love, so he can’t wrap his head around letting that go. If he truly cares, though, his anger will eventually soften into a rough attempt at compromise. He’ll still be frustrated, still grumble, but he stays because his feelings are real, even if they’re messy.

Baek Jin

Baek Jin listens quietly, never interrupting, just letting you finish. Then he nods once. — “I understand. You don’t need to worry—I’m not here for that.” He doesn’t make you feel odd or broken. Instead, he searches for other ways to show intimacy: deep conversations, trust, small acts of care. Maybe he has questions deep down, but he’ll never burden you with them. His calm maturity makes it clear that, for him, your bond is enough.

Author’s Note: Waa, I love trying out new things and playing with different ideas ✨💭 I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing it <3 thank you for reading, it honestly means so much 🫶

[mochakay]

synopsis — what are friends for?

tags: angst, fluff, jealousy. (reader x eren) status: unedited :)

"We’re just roommates." That’s what you tell yourself whenever Eren Yeager crashes onto your bed at 2 AM, smelling like weed and cheap booze, ranting about his latest problems with Mikasa and how Jean is such a dick.

"We're just friends." Eren would repeat for the hundredth time as he overlooks the subtle tension between you both. The lingering eyes and the weird feeling burning in his chest when your back turns and your attention focuses on anyone but him.

"It's not like that." You would repeat once more, catching Armin giving you a meaningful look as you try to avoid staring at Mikasa hanging over Eren a little too much. Your throat tightening like you were a fish thrown on land and left to dry out in the sweltering heat.

"Friends can be intimate, right...?" You think as Eren's face smoulders your stomach, his body clearly exhausted and his eyes shut closed peacefully.

Because when the sun rises and morning comes once more, this will never be spoken of.

The unspoken rule hangs between you like a fragile thread—one wrong move, one careless word, and it snaps.

Eren will wake up with a groan, rubbing his temples like he always does after a long night, and he’ll blink at you with those tired, stormy eyes like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just spend the night tangled in your sheets, his warmth seeping into your skin. Like he didn’t murmur your name in his sleep, so soft you almost convinced yourself you imagined it.

And you? You’ll laugh it off. You’ll throw a pillow at him and tell him to get his shit together, to stop treating your bed like his personal crash pad. You’ll ignore the way your pulse stutters when his fingers accidentally—always accidentally—graze yours as he stumbles out of your room.

Mikasa will ask him where he was. Armin will give you that look again. Jean will make some snide comment about Eren’s terrible habits.

And life will go on.

Because that’s what you do. That’s what you’ve always done.

Pretend.

Ignore.

Lie.

But when the door clicks shut behind him, and you’re left alone with the ghost of his presence still clinging to your sheets, you’ll press your face into the pillow where his head had been and breathe in the fading scent of him—smoke, cheap cologne, and something unmistakably Eren.

And for just one second, you’ll let yourself ache.

Then you’ll get up, smooth out the wrinkles in your life, and pretend it doesn’t kill you a little more each time.

Because— that's what friends are for.

Right?

[totallysilvergirl]

Kaleidoscope is complete

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34671580/chapters/86321722

Summary:

While Sherlock’s recovering from being shot, John has to work out what the hell happened. Why did Mary turn up in his clinic in the first place? Why is Sherlock lying about her “surgical” shot? Why is Mycroft protecting Magnussen? For that matter, what's to be done about Magnussen?

Since John can’t trust any of them to tell him the truth, he’ll have to play them all against each other.

Kaleidoscope starts with a classic fic premise: that after Mary shot Sherlock, John moved out on her and back to 221B. Every shard in my kaleidoscope has featured in at least one post-HLV fic; this is just a silvercoated version, where every turn of the kaleidoscope shows a different picture. What does it do to love to keep secrets, out of distrust and unwitting condescension?

@annecumberbatch​ made this beautiful graphic for Kaleidoscope, which has lifted my spirits every time I look at it. Thank you, AnneC.

[gaslightgallows]

27: "But here I blur into you." -> Jon/Martin, Seeing each other in the Lonely has some unexpected side effect (TMA)

To Jon’s horror, there wasn’t much left of Martin to save. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, trying to frame Martin’s face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, I should have gotten there sooner—”

“Jon,” said Martin, smiling sadly, “stop it.” He reached for Jon but his fingers passed through Jon’s shoulder. “I’ll just… I’ll go back into the Lonely. I’ll be okay there.”

“You’ll be lost.”

“Can’t be. Not now. You came after me. That makes all the difference.”

“Please,” Jon whispered hoarsely, though he knew now it was futile. Outside of the Lonely, Martin might as well be a ghost. “Don’t leave me again.”

Martin’s broad, gentle hands were still reaching for him, as desperate as his expression was resigned. Unable to bear it, Jon stepped forward, closing the distance between them until they were chest to chest—

Martin’s image, already faint and indistinct, wavered and then blurred, and vanished.

“No!”

Jon sank to his knees as numbness washed over him like a strong wave.

But only for a moment. Then an incredible warmth bloomed in his chest, and he felt… not as though Martin was embracing him but simply Martin, as though they occupied the same space, the same body, the same… all.

“Jon? Is this… I mean, are we…?”

“Oh,” gasped Jon, blissfully, “hello.”

[midnightfantasy]

Anniversary(The Explanation)

!!!I do not own anything mentioned in this story. I only own the storyline!!! Warnings: {Let me know if I missed any} Angst Mention of voices Mention of depression Food mention REMUS

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 You are here

The others paled, this was not going according to plan.

~~Time Skip~~

Remus stared at the others, Janus was staring at the others, waiting to see who would crack first, while the four sides in question stared at the floor-Patton and Roman-, and at the wall-Logan and Virgil-.

Remus sighed, it appears he would have to start the discussion, “Alright guys, we know you were there. No point trying to hide it.”

At his words the others turned to him, Janus seemed surprised, while the others seemed relieved they didn’t have to start the conversation.

With a quick look at the others Logan sighed, looks like he had to start. “We know how this must seem but please understand that we were merely curious.”

“Well Logan, you mussst know curiosity killed the cat.” Janus looked towards Logan, a questioning look in his eyes.

“Indeed. But satisfaction brought it back.”

The others were curious as to where this was leading, but Janus smirked, knowing exactly what he was indicating, “Very well, if you all have questions, you may ask them.”

The former light sides were confused as to why Janus seemed so willing to answer their questions. The deceiving side was always secretive, very rarely sharing with the others. Unfortunately, they weren’t good at hiding their shock, causing Janus to roll his eyes.

Roman looked at the former dark sides, “Can you tell us what made you have that meeting of sorts? It’s obvious that wasn’t the first meeting you’ve had.”

Janus and Remus looked at each other and sighed, this was going to take a while.

A few seconds of silence passed before Remus spoke up, “I started on the first anniversary of V getting accepted. When V first left J and I thought he would come back, realize where his true family was and leave you guys. But, he grew attached, and we started to lose hope,” Remus stopped, looking at Janus.

Janus picked up where Remus left off, “When Virgil was finally accepted, we broke, no longer caring what happened to us. Afterall, we had lost our little brother. Remus lost control over the voices, and I fell into a depressive state,” Janus paused and closed his eyes before continuing, “On the second anniversary, Remus and I decided to travel to our hideout. Then, we remembered that we still had each other, whether Virgil was with us or not. Slowly we started to open back up to each other, discovering each other's mental problems, and trying our best to support each other. After time, it had become a tradition. Every anniversary of Virgil’s acceptance, we would go to our hideout and relax, spending the day checking on each other and having fun.”

When Janus finished, someone flung themselves on top of him and refused to let go. Janus opened his eyes to discover the person attacking him was Virgil. Virgil was silently crying, getting Janus’ pajamas damp from tears. When he looked up he saw the others with various looks of shock, while Remus had his eyes closed.

“‘M sorry. I didn’t know me leaving would impact you two so much.” Virgil sniffled, his tears starting to slow.

Janus lightly smiled and hugged Virgil, waiting for Remus to open his eyes before he motioned for him to join them. The three of them sat in silence, the other four silently sunk out, leaving the family for a moment of peace.

After a few more moments of quiet, Janus spoke, “You have nothing to apologize for dear. They gave you a life we couldn’t, the one you deserved.”

“Besides, we’re your brothers. We want what’s best for you, it just took us a bit too long to realize you were happy here. Although, since we’re brothers you should probably stop flirting with Roman.” Remus smirked.

At Remus' final sentence, Virgil squeaked and launched himself at Remus, knocking them both off the seat. Virgil’s face had gone red from embarrassment, shrieking over and over again how he never flirted with Roman. Remus however, was howling with laughter, even as Virgil had begun playfully punching him.

Janus rolled his eyes at their playfight, chuckling softly as the other’s ran down the stairs at Virgil’s shrieking. After Janus explained what had happened, Roman immediately turned red before joining Virgil with beating up his brother.

Logan and Patton smiled at the three on the floor, before joining Janus in sitting down.

After a few hours of talking and fighting, Logan declared it to be time for them all to rest. And for once, no one complained, everyone said their goodnights, before retiring to their rooms. I had been a long day for them all, but it was one to remember.

The END 

[damnbrati-llkurusu]

Too Bitter to be Sweet

Words:1468 -- Rating: T -- Goro Akechi x Akiren Kurumiya (Akira, Ren, whatever you want to call MC, dude has more names than a baby book)

11/18 - Friday

He pushed the cup away and asked, with narrowed eyes, for it to be bitter. There was a harshness to his words, and in the pause came a moment of clarity. Akechi chuckled, and with a polite flourish, as though attempting to alleviate the abrasiveness of the demand, stated simply: “please, I’m sure you can do it, you’re quite talented.”

Akira wanted to tell him there was no need for the façade, that they were the only souls within the walls of Le Blanc, and he already knew who Akechi really was. There was no reason for him to be the Second Coming of the Detective Prince when it was just them, he was performing for no one, an audience who was well-aware of what happened behind the scenes.

“Most people ask me to sweeten it,” Akira set the rejected cup to the side, no point in wasting good coffee, and went to work on making one more attuned to Akechi’s taste.

“Most people are fools,” Akechi smiled and rested his chin against clasped hands. Again, there came the chuckle, a boyish, attractive sound, his act resumed and persisting. “I’m only joking, it makes sense that people would gravitate away from bitterness, it being a sign of poison and all. I don’t hate sweets, but I’m not exactly partial to them, so maybe I’m the foolish one, I’ve just never been a fan of sugar-coating things.”

Akira nodded, handing him the new brew, and Akechi sipped, for a moment closing his eyes, contemplating the taste.

“That’s better.”

Akira placed his apron on the counter and went to the fridge for dinner. Curry sounded, as it always did, good. “Happy to help.”

A part of him didn’t like having his back turned to Akechi, didn’t like the moment of vulnerability where he couldn’t see what the other was doing. But then again, there was a thrill in it.

“Would you like to taste it?” the question echoed through the empty café.

Akira rose from the fridge. “What?”

The young man sat, arms crossed, smiling pleasantly as he motioned to the coffee. He repeated, his gaze as sharp as he wanted his voice to sound: “Would you like to taste it?”

Was it taunting that Akira was picking up on, or something else? He grabbed himself a plate before responding, not so much buying time as seeing how Akechi would react. Akechi watched him, each movement traced by an attentive glance, each shift followed with acute care. The following gaze was enough to bring a swath of warmth through Akira, but with a shake of the head, he pushed it down.

“I have my own,” He motioned to the rejected cup before he began to prepare his dinner and something within himself deflated.

“Of course,” Akechi’s gaze finally faltered, and he looked to the television, listening to the recent report on the Phantom Thieves.

Disappointment? He couldn’t quite…didn't want to think about why his cheeks flushed, why his heart quickened.

Akechi drank his coffee, his brow furrowing as he listened to the news. Akira allowed the dull drone of the television to fade into quiet as he ate his curry and sipped at the rejected coffee. Time passed and the cups were emptied, the OPEN sign flipped to CLOSED, but Akechi stayed, and Akira, despite it all, didn’t think to tell him to leave.

It was only time that made the detective rise, and maybe, only politeness that made Akira walk him to the Ginza line to catch the last train. The distance between them, though their hands frequently brushed against one another, felt larger with each step away from Le Blanc.

They stood, waiting for both the train and the other to talk. In the silence, uncertainty blossomed. The incoming train was announced, the whine of rubbed steel beginning to reverberate, when Akechi finally spoke.

“If you were to abandon the Phantom Thieves,” the words were nearly drowned by the shrill whine of the approaching train. “We could be allies.”

The words Akechi had said just hours prior still echoed in Akira's mind: "I'm going to be entirely honest with you: I hate you."

“Allies?” the train pulled to a stop and Akechi stepped inside, Akira’s words hanging between them. “In the Metaverse you made it clear you think of me as a rival.” Yet he knew exactly what Akechi meant, because in his back pocket, as though attesting for the truth of his words, Akechi's glove still lay patiently waiting for their next battle.

The doors began to close, and Akechi’s smile, small and barely there, was genuine.

Was real.

“It’s a thin line Akira.”

The doors closed and the train pulled away, and once again, they were separated.

1/15 – Sunday

Akechi waited in Kichijoji, umbrella in one hand, Styrofoam cup in the other as his breath fogged before him. Akira’s statement, if you wanted coffee, I could have brought you some, came before he even slowed to a stop.

Akechi didn’t laugh the way he used to, that fake boyish charm lost to circumstances. Now, he only smirked before gesturing towards one of the many, dark alleys. Akira followed him, sheltered from the rain by the umbrella, and neither spoke until they were shrouded in the privacy of darkness.

“Why did you want to meet without Sumire, she has a right to be involved in this, we don’t have much time.”

“You’re right, we don’t have much time,” the rain pattered against the umbrella, and Akechi’s voice seemed to lower. “What we’re discussing is between just us.”

A droplet of water dotted against Akira’s neck, and he stepped closer to Akechi. The smell of the coffee was alluring, but Akira’s eyes never left Akechi’s, their gazes locked, words curt and smooth.

“You’re usually so perceptive,” There was something like disappointment in his tone as Akechi raised the Styrofoam cup, shaking the contents. “It’s about this.”

“Coffee?”

Akechi nodded, and with a glint in his eye, asked: “Would you like to taste it?”

It was like that day back in Le Blanc, before the casino…before the ark…Just as it was then, life was about to change, whether that meant living in a presumed perfect world or living without…

Akira didn’t want to think about it, and instead of dwelling on possible realities he extended his hand towards the cup. Bitter coffee was the least of his worries and the look in Akechi’s eyes…this time, Akira wouldn’t, couldn’t, deny what he saw in their depths.

The mist of rain was cool against the back of his neck, and in the distance, there came the echo of the temple’s bell. Akira’s hand, for a moment, felt suspended in the air as he waited for Akechi to hand him the cup. With eyes that never left Akechi’s, he allowed himself to indulge himself, just this once, with the beginnings of flirting. He was already ten steps ahead in mind: he was going to take the cup, and, with a sip, make a small joke about an indirect kiss.

But Akechi was more forward than that, more apt to the logistics of wordplay. Akira’s hand was taken within his own, the cup dropped and spilling onto the pavement, as fingers intertwined themselves together.

Read the rest on AO3!

[horrible-on-main]

He is glad that the kid gets to go home, he really is. He’s spent the last two days with his heart in his throat wondering if the poor thing was going to be dragged in for questioning. But seeing someone else feeling that joy and relief... it tears a hole in his heart. He’s never going home.

It’s been a long time since homesickness was last tangible enough to choke on. He thought he’d coaxed his thoughts into avoiding that. Home is a cell now, and a room where he works. A safe place where he knows the routine and the nightmares aren’t as bad. A place where he isn’t randomly abused, where he has plenty to occupy his mind with, and where the Interrogator sometimes visits. That’s as much as he’s supposed to long for.

But he remembers a time when home was more than that. Further back than when home was a berth or a pokey room with his books and his clothes and perhaps a nice blanket and some incense. He remembers when home was luxury and family and friendly faces. Open arms and conversation and a space that was really truly his. When he felt truly safe. Before he really knew what it is to be afraid.

He tries not to remember, because when it comes bubbling up like this, seeping through the cracks in his defences, it hurts. He wants to go back. He wants to turn back time and make better choices. Yes he would sacrifice all the good he’s ever achieved just to still be loved. To not have become what he has become. The gulf between the memory and his reality is too sickeningly great. He doesn’t want to remember everything he’s lost.

“Cur?” Saiyah’s voice, gentle. The epithet’s so familiar that it doesn’t even register as an insult any more. It’s just a thing that he’s called. He looks up slowly through floods of tears. His hands are dripping from how he was trying to hide his face. “Tch, poor thing, what’s wrong?” He shakes his head miserably. He doesn’t know how to articulate the grief. And it’s not the sort of thoughts that a thing like him should be having anyway. He’d try to explain of course, if she ordered it. But with Saiyah, he doesn’t have to take every word she says as an order, and he’s so grateful for that. “Poor cur, hey, don’t cry.”

She sits down on the floor beside him and wraps an arm around his shoulders.  She squeezes tight, squashing his arms tight against his torso, and the pressure wraps around his mind and stills sobs and soothes tears. He’s safe in her grip. She won’t make him confront his muddled thoughts. She won’t leave him to cry. She’ll make all the choices. The release of tension is so pronounced that he flops against her shoulder. “Shhhh, I’ve got you.”

She wraps both arms around him and lifts him into her lap. He’s skeleton-light. It feels wrong to nuzzle against her shoulder like a child, he doesn’t deserve this kind of comfort. But she wraps her arms around him and puts her hands on his upper arms and holds tight and any thoughts of objection evaporate. This is what she wants, so this is what happens.

It frees him to just feel the warmth and security of her grip. The light of her soul fills his perception. His head rests on her shoulder and her coat absorbs his tears. He’s safe. He’s not shaking any more, and the tears are slowing. Gently, quietly, she starts murmuring an unfamiliar tune. Nostalgia is a deep, deep wound in his heart. But she has hold of him and he is warm and secure and safe and comfortable. It’s worth the sorrow. It’s worth almost anything.

[jaydickrecommendations]

A Taste of New Love

by Empires, Salvadore (Read Here)

Dick and Jason don't think they're in love, but the universe (and Klarion's magic) begs to differ. Featuring: many Dicks. Multi dimensions! SOULMATES? Zero robots. And kissing, so much kissing.

For what it’s worth: This made me cry when I read it. It was heart wrenching but the ending just made me smile so hard.