#tw: implied/referenced addiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aftgficrec · 1 day

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Anonymous said: Hi! Thank you so much for your work. I'm looking for long finished fics, it can be canon or not AND I'm also looking for fics focused on Kevin and Neil friendship

From Ravens angst to food wars there’s a lot of Kevin and Neil here for you to enjoy. Readers, find the long complete fics portion of this ask here. -A

previous recs

Kevin & Neil here

Kevin & Neil friendship here

BFFs Neil & Kevin, physically affectionate here

Neil & Kevin as bffs/brothers + Kev/Neil here

‘To All my friends’ here

‘on thin ice’ here

‘Exit Wound’ here

‘Necessary Losses,’ ‘Remember! Proplifting is Shoplifting!,’ and ‘CVS’ (completed) here

‘don't be suspicious, don't be suspicious’ here

‘I have a Prom-Posal’ here (updated)

‘The Manga is Way Better (Save me from the Fangirls)’ here

‘Homecoming King’ here

‘The One Where Everyone Finds Out’ here

‘How to outrun the mafia, an essay by Neil Josten’ here

‘my friends and I, we got a lot of problems’ and ‘please, carry me, carry me, carry me home’ here

‘I can see the stars though the tears in my skin’ here

‘Odd Eye’ here

‘Carrots’ here

‘You Can't Take the Sky from Me’ here

‘Something Crazy About It’ and ‘The one where Andriel get Cats’ here

‘Dear Advice Guy,’ ‘a little bit special,’ and ‘quicksand’ here

‘Slow Parade’ and ‘Bad Habits’ here

‘Technique is Important’ here

‘venus as a boy’ here (completed)

‘Light a Match’ and ‘stupid, normal teenagers’ here

‘"There's blood on my/your hands."’ here

‘Neil Josten Is a Lucky Man’ here

‘Two worlds collide’ and ‘Fear & Loathing’ here

‘Father’s Day, ‘08’ here

‘Point Nemo’ here

‘Extra thermador on the side’ ch 14 & 15 here

‘Gimme a Kiss and I'll Kiss You Right Back’ here

‘North Star’ and ‘it's my first and perhaps last time (aka the Exy World Cup Fic)’ here

‘my one, my dear’ here

‘I’m too young to feel numb…’ here

‘The Sickness Was Forever,’ ‘Whatever it takes,’ and ‘It's Just You and Me, Just Us, and Y(our) Friend Kevin’ here

‘Different Roads’ and ‘I Was Ruined From The Start’ here

‘Spun Sugar Truths’ here

‘But man, I can hate you sometimes’ here

‘Remember Me, Love, When I'm Reborn…’ and ‘The Suit Universe’ series (updated) here

‘Through our memories, we live’ here (completed)

‘Die Free or Die a Failure’ here (completed)

‘A Falling Star’ series here

you may also like

andreil & Kevin here

more kevineil here

Andrew & Kevin here

to whom it may aggravate by knoxout [Rated G, 1931 Words, Complete, 2022]

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID????? Kindest regards, Kevin Day

Strike That (from the record) by Mercey [Rated M, 1393 Words, Complete, 2023]

Kevin and Neil decide to read fanfiction about themselves on their podcast. Shenanigans ensue.

Medicated rabbits don't run as fast by AllTheSpadesAndAces [Not Rated, 8690 Words, Incomplete, Updated Nov 2023]

Neil Josten has his mother to thank for an addiction to painkillers, but he won't speak (that) ill of the dead. He's stayed on the run after her death. He never hits the same AA or NA meeting more than once. Usually only going once in every city he passes though. Maybe he should have remembered not to stray too close to Raven territory. After all, he knows what that place can drive people to do. OR Neil meets Kevin at an AA meeting.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: drug addiction, tw: alcohol abuse/alcoholism

Your eyes can’t fool me by maia_m03 [Rate G, 3533 Words, Complete, 2022]

There’s something familiar about this kid and Kevin can’t quite place it. Until he does. (A ‘Kevin recognises Neil at Millport’ AU)

neil josten vs vegetables (aka kevin) by orangejuice9 [Rated T, 3138 Words, Complete, 2023]

Three times Kevin tries to put vegetables in Neil's food, and one time Neil gets his revenge.

this is [home], this is hell by straycrow [Rated M, 1402 Words, Complete, 2022]

The day Kevin left the Nest and Neil behind.

tw: violence, tw: abuse

What the fuck did I do in the end? (Just to not be yours) by allfortheBoyds [Rated M, 2305 Words, Incomplete, Updated April 2023]

Kevin goes back to the nest so that Neil can run

no rest for the mischievous by tropicalblend [Rated G, 1681 Words, Complete, 2023]

Kevin forgets an essential piece of Neil's food order so Neil must enact revenge, he must.

frying pans by aknosde [Rated G, 1078 Words, Complete, 2023]

When Kevin trudges down the stairs and into the kitchen Saturday morning it's to the smell of frying sausage and a headache the likes of which he hasn’t seen in years. The fact that the former makes him want to throw up considerably more than the latter lets him know what kind of day it’s going to be. (Or: Neil cooks Kevin breakfast)

tw: implied disordered eating

i want to hold your hand by gay_irl [Rated T, 3481 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil starts to notice that Andrew occasionally exchanges casual touches with Kevin. He feels something about it but he's not sure what. He talks to Andrew and starts to realize the value of non-sexual intimacy. He decides to try it out.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

why am I like this? by chronically_peach [Rated G, 1744 Words, Complete, 2023]

Kevin doesn’t believe in loneliness. He doesn’t believe in friendship or the need for people around. He spent his entire life never being alone but never having a friend. Loneliness didn’t affect Kevin. Or so he thought. One night Kevin breaks down during late night practice while alone at the court. When he doesn’t come home Andrew and Neil go looking for him

In the Blooms by KaijuusAndKryptids [Rated G, 1273 Words, Complete, Aftg Spring Exchange 2022, Locked]

Kevin works on sobriety, and needs something to fill the time to distract him from needing a drink. He falls into gardening incidentally, but more and more often he finds that he wants to garden for gardening's sake and not to complete another objective.

Proof of Life by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 2132 Words, Complete, 2022]

Realistically, Kevin knows he is safe now. No one is after him anymore. No one is plotting to drag him down into the hole he's clawed out of. He has people who will fight to keep it this way.

Kevin? Aaron? Together? My life can't get any worse than this by Artificiosus [Rated T, 2129 Words, Complete, 2022]

He takes a deep breath in. "Where?" "Where what- oh," Kevin replies. "Where?" Neil repeats, his heart rate is speeding up, he feels frozen to the spot. Dread? Fear? Whatever it is, it's locked him down. Kevin gulps. ~~~~~ Kevin tells Neil that he and Aaron slept together.

Hey Look Neil, You Made It! by alexis_needs_sleep [Not Rated, 2224 Words, Complete, 2022]

7 years after Kevin agreed to teach Neil how to play Exy, Kevin shows up on Neil's doorstep with a long overdue gift.

Sticking with our Losers by Webaqoof [Rated T, 1647 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

Kevin dragged his ass from the front porch steps where he was laying down, ready to enter the house. He furrowed his eyebrows to find it still closed, because he clearly heard Neil ringing the doorbell. “Why is the door not open?” Neil brought his hand to his chin in a thinking posture. Which was funny because he never really thought anything. “I think it’s because one of the people in the house doesn’t like me much.”

Could Have Been Me by thornilee013 [Rated T, 1843 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2024]

Kevin finally voices a question that's been bothering him.

i should hate you, i feel stupid. by hynjinnnniee [Rated T, 3391 Words, Complete, 2024]

kevin experiences some complicated feelings after riko dies, and the monsters help him through it.

Naked-Fruit Chiffon Cake, one box by riri_a [Rated T, 2579 Words, Complete, 2023]

Kevin Day was having a very boring morning. Some might say his life was boring in general. Everything changes when a homeless guy with blue eyes decides to rob his workplace. Kevin thinks he's incompetent.

Tell Me the Truth by birthdaycandles774 [Rated T, 1948 Words, Complete, 2023]

The Foxes were staying at the winter banquet for both days, how boring. Andrew had gone to get ice for his drunk brother and cousin when he noticed two Ravens. So far from their nest, strange. He never expected to make a deal with the unannounced member of the 'Perfect Court' who only wanted him to protect Kevin Day. He definitely didn't expect to want the mysterious Raven to stay. The one where Neil was caught by the Moriyamas and is the one to get Kevin out of the Nest.

Kevin Day is keeping Celeste series by Twolipsliterature [Rated G/T, Collection, Incomplete, Updated Feb 2023]

Part 1: What never belonged to angels, Had never belonged to men [T, 1837 Words, Complete] Neil, Andrew, and Kevin are in Columbia for the summer following Riko's death. Needless to say, Kevin is not handling it well. When a breakup leads to a breakdown, Neil and Andrew must learn what it is to be a friend and how to help peice someone back together instead of being the one to break them apart

tw: alcohol abuse/alcoholism

Part 2: If I let you perceive me, do you promise to love me? [T, 11037 Words, Incomplete, Updated Feb 2023] The last thing Kevin expected to do after a messy breakup was immediately fall for someone. Yet, here he is, smitten and cursing himself for it. With more baggage and trauma than he can hide under his bed, Kevin is hesitant to open up to someone. How can anyone get to know him when he barely knows himself? Lucky for him, Celeste is very good at piecing things together. OR: Despite his best efforts, Kevin falls in love.

Part 3: A Lesson In Loving You, A Lesson In Being Loved [G, 4966 Words, Complete]

After months of sneaking around, Neil decides its high time Kevin introduce the foxes to his not-so-secret girlfriend. When it finally happens, he can't shake the feeling that there's something more to her that Kevin is missing...

A Collection of my varying AFTG short stories… by BasiliskCrane [Rated M, Collection, Updated July 2021]

Chapter 6: "your an idiot... " (G, 438 Words)

You Gave Me A Key And Called It Home by vinesse [Collection, Rated T, Complete, 2019]

Chapter 31: Scared, Me? (466 Words)

A Series of H/C One-Shots For All For The Game by carefulren [Rated T, Collection, Updated 2018]

Chapter 1: Neil Downplays How Sick He's Feeling, and the Foxes Step In Chapter 4: sick and problematic kevin trying to keep the team away from him, but the team ignores him

Art

kevneil arguing dynamic comic by @wuzeio

quality bonding time animation by @broresteia

weekly call comic by @bleepbloops

tramp stamps instead of face tattoos art by @koihoi

AU where Kevin meets Neil on the run art by @lucky-slice

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debsarcasticplight · 6 months

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Starlight

The Impala rumbles to a halt outside The Starlight Motel, its tired engine sighing in relief. Dean leans back in the worn leather seat, rubbing his eyes, exhausted. The road has started to take its toll on Dean despite him having made this trip countless times before. After nearly a decade, his journey here and back again has become the only ritual that keeps him connected to his past and the one person still holding a piece of his heart.

Stepping out of the car, Dean can't help but glance around, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. The Starlight Motel hasn't changed much over the years. It’s still the same dingy, run-down place where he and Cas first met, spent countless hours as kids, and dreamt about escaping from someday.

Dean makes his way to the front desk, the bell above the door jingling softly as he pushes it open. The desk clerk, a tired-looking woman with bleach-blonde hair and bright red lipstick, removes an unlit cigarette from her lips before offering him a half-hearted smile.

"Can I help you?" she asks, her voice heavy with boredom.

"Yeah," Dean replies, pulling out his wallet and tossing a few crumpled twenties onto the counter.

"I need a room for a couple of nights."

"Okay, you're in #12," The clerk says, taking the money and handing Dean a key with very little investment.

Dean nods and heads for the lobby, the worn carpet muffling his footsteps. It's early November, but there are still a few flimsy-looking Halloween decorations strewn around in the corners of the motel. Just another subtle reminder that time keeps marching, regardless of whether anyone’s ready to start letting go. Room 12 is just like every other room in the place—barely functional, but it has a bed and a shower, which is all he really needs.

Dean tosses his duffel bag onto the bed and lets out a long sigh. He knows he has to check on Cas next. Doing so has become a routine for him, a way to ease his conscience, even though Dean’s never sure what he will find. Dean’s been renting Cas a room at the Starlight Motel year-round since he left, figuring it's the least he can do for the guy. Cas has a tendency to move around a lot, seeking out the sketchiest people while chasing his next high. At least this way, Dean can try to help his friend retain some semblance of home, even if it's back here, of all places.

Pulling out his phone, Dean scrolls until he finds his favorite picture: two young boys, their eyes wide with anticipation and ready for whatever life has in store. Although the original photo was taken many years ago, Dean can't help keeping a digital copy purely for sentimental value.

Holding a breath, Dean taps "Call" as a pit of concern opens up beneath his ribs. He’s got six different phone numbers for Cas currently, and it's always a gamble whether any of them will even go through.

"Hello?" Cas's voice crackles over the line, already sounding very far away.

"Hey, Cas," Dean says, trying to keep his voice casual.

"It's me."

There is a long pause before Cas replies.

"Back again so soon, Dean?"

Dean runs a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to steady his breathing.

"Naw, you know me, I’m just passing through. But I thought I'd call and see how you're doing."

"You know how I'm doing, Dean." Cas states, his voice thick with bitterness.

Dean winces at the truth in his friend's words. Knowing all too well how much Cas has struggled for years now, battling demons Dean still doesn’t fully understand. They had been close once, more so than anyone could’ve imagined, but life has taken them down different paths.

"Listen," Dean begins,

"I rented myself a room at The Starlight for a few nights. Why don't you swing by? I’ll order us some pizza and maybe restock your fridge. We can catch up."

Cas hesitates, and for a moment, Dean thinks he might actually say no.

"Okay, Dean. I'll be there." Cas says, sounding defeated.

Dean hangs up and lets out another sigh, this one heavier than the last. He knows he can't save Cas or fix the mess that is his life. But he also can't find it in himself to walk away either. Not after everything they have been through.

Dean leaves his room, returning to the front desk once more. When he requests an extra copy of Cas's room key, the clerk hands it over without question. She’s seen this all before, the two of them coming and going like ghosts.

Back in his room, Dean sits on the edge of the bed and stares out the window. The parking lot is empty, save for a few beat-up-looking cars. The neon sign of The Starlight flickers and buzzes, casting an eerie glow over everything.

Dean can't help but think back to his and Cas’s origins as he waits. They had been inseparable as kids, each other's lifelines in a world that seemed determined to tear them apart. They had even dated briefly, an awkward and confusing experiment in teenage love. Then Sam died, Dean left town, and Cas stayed behind to pick up the pieces alone. Even now, after all these years, the wrongs of the past haunt Dean, while the present feels no less bleak. But he’s determined to be there for Cas, no matter how impossible the task seems. For the sake of the man he once loved and probably still does, Dean knows he has to at least try.

#spn fanfic #destiel au #endverse!cas #endverse!dean #tw implied/referenced substance abuse/addiction issues #tw implied/referenced mental illness #tw grief and loss #suptober23

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notiddygxthgf · 4 months

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World famous rock star Choso Kamo's new live-in assistant is convinced that she can fix him -- substance abuse issues and all. Tensions ensue, and as new feelings rise to the surface, the two find it difficult to maintain an appropriate workplace relationship.

(or; the one where an unstable musician meets an assistant with a savior complex).

❝I GOT A BRAND NEW PLACE, I THINK I'VE SEEN IT TWICE ALL YEAR. I CAN'T REMEMBER HOW IT LOOKS INSIDE, SO YOU CAN PICTURE HOW MY LIFE'S BEEN. I WENT FROM STARING AT THE SAME FOUR WALLS FOR TWENTY-ONE YEARS TO SEEING THE WHOLE WORLD IN JUST 12 MONTHS, BEEN GONE FOR SO LONG, I MIGHTA JUST FOUND GOD.

WELL, PROBABLY NOT, IF I KEEP MY HABITS UP AND PROBABLY NOT, IF I CAN'T KEEP UP WITH LOVIN'...PROBABLY NOT IF WE TAKE 'EM TO MY SPOT. PROBABLY NOT, IF I TWEAK ALL DAY JUST TO SLEEP AT NIGHT, GOD DAMN, I'M HIGH. MY DOCTOR TOLD ME TO STOP, AND HE GAVE ME SOMETHING TO POP. I MIX IT UP WITH SOME ADDERALLS AND I WAIT TO GET TO THE TOP.❝

╭─ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─ ⋅ ─╮

▷ prologue

▷ the interview

╰─ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─ ⋅ ─╯

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : jan 25, 2024

cover art credits: @/2OARIN on twitter

streaming... Kiss Land (The Weeknd).

cw/tags: rockstar!au, loosely based off of 'the idol', keyword very loosely... bc it sucked., slow burn, mutual pining, sassy reader, not really enemies to lovers but let's just say they drive eachother crazy. toxic relationship, but it gets better, mental instability, mental breakdowns, mentions of relapse (will include tw!), implied/referenced alcohol abuse/alcoholism, recreational drug use, implied/referenced drug addiction, HE GETS BETTER I SWEARRRR, eventual smut, sexual tension, explicit sexual content, oral sex, doggy style, cowgirl position, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, questionable decisions just like all around, dark romance, reader is a little delusional (me too its ok), rough sex, rough kissing, rough angry sex, just read it it'll be a sexy and amazing time, choso my beloved you can do no wrong, except maybe in this particular fanfic, LISTEN TO KISS LAND BY THE WEEKND.

#smoke and mirrors ☄. *. ⋆#choso kamo #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso kamo x y/n #choso smut #choso angst #choso fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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insoukokuhell-434 · 9 months

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Chuuya Takes Care of Dazai Fics

Includes:

Emotional Hurt/Comfort (long term & immediate)

Physical Hurt/Comfort

The format I’m using is:

Title - writer (ao3 link) Fic length Time period (teen/mafia skk, 22! Skk, all ages) Additional tags (Tags in bold added by me for extra info) TW

Some fics have parts of the summary/ comments added for additional info

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Long Term (multiple instances)

hey look, the sky's falling apart - saffroncassis

24.8k TEEN SKK (16/17) AU - Canon Divergence Protective Nakahara Chuuya, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Developing Relationship Found Family (the Akutagawa siblings, Oda's kids, Kyouka, Oda, Ango) TW- Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse and discussions of both these, also cw food for the whole fic

Summary - "At age 16, Chuuya defects from the Port Mafia and drags his partner with him not so much kicking and screaming as silently begrudging, and the rest follow suit in time."

Mostly Chuuya helping Dazai, but Dazai supports him too <33

[Really realistic depiction of the relationship between a depressed person and their supportive partner!]

For the Record - zombiemarker

19.1k TEEN SKK AU- Spies & Secret Agents + Physical Hurt/Comfort Nightmares, Childhood Trauma, they get all dressed up and go to a gala, Implied Sexual Content, Fluff & Angst, Literal sleeping together, Getting together, First kiss, Developing Relationship TW - Blood and Violence, Childhood Trauma

From tags: "Chuuya's a government experiment, Dazai's been with Mori for years, they've both got trauma now"

Mostly Chuuya helping Dazai, but Dazai supports him too <33

A mouth to empty into - series by osamuchuu

Not listing all 4 fics cause this post is already so long, but they’re all amazing pls go read them!

The series depicts depression + CSA trauma so well!

This is my favourite -

Love is not a victory march - osamuchuu

8.7k 22 SKK Soukoku taking care of each other, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mental Illness, Depression, Drug Addiction, Blood and Injury, Healing, Recovery, Soukoku Tenderness, Light Angst TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide References and Attempts, Addiction, Drug Use

believe me darling, the stars were made for falling -communist_sasuke

14.6k ALL AGES Worried Chuuya, Love Confessions, Dazai is a Mess, Angst, Self-Harm , Fluff & Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon timeline, First Kiss, TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions , Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt

Trust Fall - insi

3.5k ALL AGES (Dark Era, Post-Dark Era, 22 SKK) Emotional Constipation, Mental Health Issues, Dazai has issues TW - Implied/Referenced Suicide & Self-Harm, Suicidal ideation

From tags: Chuuya has met Dazai on the rooftop many times throughout knowing each other.

Immediate

Emotional H/C

Even the Darkness We're Watching Is So Beautiful - NastyaEx

4k 22 SKK (post-109) bsd 109, Fluff, Dazai Needs a Hug, Dazai is a Mess, exhausted dazai, dazai cries but only a little bit, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sharing a Bed, Soft skk, Dazai centered, yosano is a bit here and she's great

I'll Make A Home In Your Gut Because its Somewhere Warm to Sleep - arahabakii

8.9k 22 SKK Fluff, Angst, Mutual Pining, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Making Out, Getting Together, Domestic Fluff, Touch-Starved Dazai, Dazai needs a hug, Chuuya needs a hug TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide References

stay- neon_toad

4.6k 22 SKK (pm!skk flashbacks) Suffering Dazai, Dazai Needs a Hug , Dazai is Bad at Feelings, Oblivious Dazai Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hugs, birthday, Birthday Presents, soft skk TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide References

where are you? - doeinstinct

2.8k 22 SKK Depression, Disordered Eating, physical symptoms of depression, Mentions of past self harm, m because they shower together, canon adjacent, meal replacements, Love Confessions, They're In Love Your Honor

Run Away With Me - Anonymous

5.3k Dark Era Grief/Mourning, Dissociation, Suicidal Thoughts, Soft Soukoku, Dazai Needs a Hug , Dazai Has Feelings, Pining, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sharing a Bed, Chuuya Needs a Hug, Kissing, Dazai asks Chuuya to run away with him

stay the night - Shinkirou

3.6k 22 SKK Gen or Pre-Slash, Developing Relationship, Character Study, Sharing a Bed, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dazai's depression

Physical Hurt/Comfort

Fool for loyalty, or some other word - osamuchuu

1.7k Dark Era Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Injury Light Angst, chuuya deals with so much tbh, what a champ, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Relationship, Established Relationship, chuuya being Dazai's nurse because he absolutely was Dazai's angry nurse

under wraps - Coffeebiscuits

5k Post-Dark era + Emotional hurt comfort Love confessions, deep talks, Light angst, Fluff and angst, kissing, crushes, sharing a bed, Suicide, Self-Harm, Tending to Wounds TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm

From tags: “basically chuuya has to patch dazai upand they talk about some things they need to discuss”

Chuuya also gets some emotional comfort

EXHAUSTION

So if you go too far I'll be there - Kimisu

2.5k 22 SKK - Pre-Fyodor | Cannibalism Arc No Plot/Plotless, Literal Sleeping Together, Some Fluff, Canon Timeline

From Summary: Based on a HC that Dazai spends days before every major arc planning and arranging the pieces in order for everything to 'work'. He also pushes his body limits a bit too far when doing that sometimes.

SICK FIC

Nothing More Important Than You - StormDew2

3k MAFIA SKK (15) Sickfic, Soft soukoku, Vulnerability

Please like/reblog if this helped u find a fic, I'd be delighted to know asjsj <3

“Dazai takes care of Chuuya” recs here

Fic rec masterlist here

#soukoku #soukoku fic rec #skk #skk fic rec #soukoku fics #skk fics #really hope the categorizing makes sense!#didn't know how else to do it ;-;#15 in total :D #sierra’s recs #edit: added 'where are you'#Sierra’s posts 🌸

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milla984 · 1 year

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Lean on Me

Summary: Spencer is feeling under the weather and tooth-rotting fluff is the only thing I can think about

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: fluff

TW/CW: brief mention of Diana Reid’s illness, implied/referenced opioid addiction

Word Count: 1.6k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

The following work is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins CM Comfort Fic Challenge

You turned the tv off and stretched your neck, muffling a yawn with the back of your hand. The cadenced tapping of light raindrops on the window echoed in the living room and you could hear the distant splashing of wheels, together with the occasional sirens and honking in the streets.

Spencer had been fast asleep on the opposite corner of his couch for almost an hour, his chest rising at a regular pace. Six days without seeing each other and all he’d seemed interested in was having dinner and watching Doctor Who at a reasonable distance from you, ruling out any possibility of physical interaction.

Sometimes you got worried that you two becoming an item forced him to de-prioritize his needs in order to favor your own, when the only thing he craved after a long and stressful week at work was to be left alone, surrounded by his books; you pictured him rambling about random topics even in his dreams and waking him up was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Spencer… I think you should go to bed,” you whispered.

He rubbed his eyes and straightened himself up to check the wristwatch he wore over the left sleeve. “So soon? We’re not even halfway through the serial.”

“Sorry to break it to you but you missed everything after the first episode. You were basically snoring,” you informed him as you tucked a lock of hair behind his ear.

Spencer’s mouth turned into a perfect round shape once the realization sank in. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh no, you would never do that to Tom Baker,” you smiled.

Drowsy Dr. Reid was one of the cutest things you’d ever seen, though you caught a sudden grimace on his face. “What’s wrong?”

His temples were beaded with tiny droplets of sweat, a detail you hadn’t noticed before because of the dimmed lights; Spencer winced and wrinkled his nose, as he often did to express various degrees of discomfort. “I’m fine.”

“You’re paler than usual. Are you sure you’re not running a fever?”

“It’s nothing serious,” he answered in a rush while he jumped to his feet to avoid you touching his forehead, only to shrug a few seconds later as a silent confession he wasn’t fine at all.

“Nothing serious, uh-huh… interesting choice of words for a genius who can drop ‘sesquipedalian’ in a casual conversation ”

Spencer gave you an enthusiastic look. “Have you ever thought about the fact that ‘sesquipedalian’ is inherently sesquipedalian? It’s kinda funny,” he laughed nervously, but at the sight of your eyebrow raised in a disapproving frown he sighed.

“I’m incredibly tired and my head hurts. It’s a physiological effect caused by the release of cytokines, a category of small proteins involved in the promotion of the inflammatory response. A textbook example of a rhinovirus infection.”

All the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into place and you stood up to tug at the unbuttoned bands of his knitted cardigan. “Is that why you’ve been acting all distant tonight?”

“I should have canceled our plans,” he nodded, making his curls bounce in the process, “when I realized I was coming down with a cold I—”

His skin felt slightly hot when you locked your fingers behind his neck. “Maybe this can help you feel a little bit better.”

You pressed your body against his while you rubbed the tip of your noses together, waiting for him to wrap his arms around your waist; when you pulled him closer he welcomed your kiss with an ecstatic moan, even though he sighed soon after in a non-verbal attempt to manifest some concern.

“Not to put a damper on this moment but person-to-person contact is such a bad idea,” he pointed out in a soft tone, still holding you tight.

“What happened to ‘safer than a handshake’?” you joked while his stubble tickled your cheek, and it was his turn to raise his eyebrows in disapproval.

“It’s not if I’m sick!”

“Then I want you to go to bed. Now,” you replied.

You didn’t require advanced profiling skills to tell that expert in all-things nerdy Spencer Reid falling asleep in front of his favorite Doctor was the perfect indication he was literally exhausted, yet he shook his head again.

“When I was a kid my mom tucked me in and let me watch my favorite movie if I wasn’t feeling well,” he mumbled, “but after she started having her episodes more and more often I…” he paused and lowered his head - the weight of those memories still heavy on his heart. Despite his height he always appeared tiny and vulnerable at the mere mention of his mother’s illness.

“I was always afraid something bad would happen if I slept too much.”

You squeezed him so hard the buckle of his belt hurt your belly and you nipped at his neck, your own personal fight or flight response to any situation involving his family issues; he’d grown so used to his position as a caregiver for Diana he struggled to accept the idea she wasn’t the only one who deserved to feel protected and cared for.

“How about I stay a little longer? I’ll make you a cup of tea,” you proposed, and he looked at you flashing his best doe-eyed, innocent stare.

“With honey?”

You would have served him tea with a cupcake made of moonbeams and sprinkled with starlight, if it were possible; you kissed him a second time, which prompted him to giggle before he reluctantly let go of you.

You walked into the kitchen and filled a small pot with water, then you prepared a mug on the kitchen counter dropping a rustic-looking muslin bag inside. Bless Penelope and her latest birthday present - a square tin box decorated with vintage-style flowers and filled to the brim with a blend of green tea, cocoa bean husks, spices and vanilla.

She would have never admitted the tea was a bland attempt to reduce Spencer’s daily caffeine intake, claiming the pièce de résistance was the very Garcia-ish container, and you were glad she was the sweetest, bubbliest and smartest best friend he could have ever hoped for.

“You haven’t changed your mind about Ten, right?” Spencer’s voice echoed through the walls and you let out an outraged gasp.

“I hope that wasn’t an honest question,” you shrieked while you scooped a generous amount of honey out of the jar. “He’s the best. End of discussion.”

The two of you had been arguing for months about each other’s preferences and all the same he was still clueless as to why you were such a fan of the tenth incarnation in particular. “I mean, it’s just… what is it about him, exactly?! He—”

“He’s very smart and funny, wears glasses and Converse are his trademark?” you completed his sentence coming back into the living room and he began fiddling with the remote, a perplexed expression on his face. Running a fever was slowing down his reaction time, so you clarified. “I guess I have a type.”

Instead of coming up with a brilliant remark he pressed the play button, in a not so subtle attempt to hide the embarrassing rush of blood to his cheeks as you offered him the hot drink and sat beside him on the couch.

“Thanks,” he managed to say before he erupted into a bad coughing fit.

You stroked his back and waited for his breathing to return to normal; you refrained from suggesting over-the-counter or prescribed medications as a helpful remedy to get temporary relief, due to the percentage of alcohol and codeine contained in a good number of cold syrups.

“Sounds like you’re getting worse.”

He carefully sipped his tea. “Common cold symptoms last for five days, on average. I’ll be okay, I don’t want you to worry,” he said and raised his wonderful hazel eyes to stare right into your soul.

“I’m not worried, I am…” you faltered, unable to hide the truth from him, “... reasonably anxious?!”

You bit your lips when Spencer caressed your knee, fighting the strong desire to grab him by his tie and guide his mouth over yours. Luckily the DVD player came to the rescue and the famous music theme distracted you, while the main menu kept appearing on screen; you took the mug from him and put it on the coffee table, and once you got hold of the remote you patted on your legs.

He accepted your invitation to use them as a pillow, since there wasn’t one available, snuggling up against you - his back resting on your chest, his hand raised to support his chin. You scrolled through the title list and even if you couldn't really see him you knew he was smiling, because he had indeed switched the previous disk with another one.

You selected the first episode and let your fingertips play with Spencer’s tousled curls, revelling for a few seconds in the thought of ripping his clothes off to commit unmentionable acts of sinful nature; by the time the Adipose mothership arrived on Earth he was out, and you resigned yourself to a restless night in the company of the Tenth Doctor.

You envied people who could fall asleep effortlessly even if they were miles away from home. As a creature of habit you found the smallest changes to be upsetting, and staying at a friend’s place or a hotel for you often translated into hours of tossing and turning.

Nevertheless (and much to your surprise) a new sense of security came from the body weight and warmth of the man you were cradling in your lap: the semi-darkness in his apartment made it resemble a painting by Wilfred Jenkins, and before you drifted into a serene slumber you realized that the overall atmosphere felt soothing and intimate.

And that you were irremediably in love with Spencer Reid.

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

»—— Gifset Masterlist link in my bio ——«

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year

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Fic Finder/In the mood for...

~*~

1. itmf pining. WangXian or Yizhan but either way so much pining it's a forest. With a happy ending. Please!

Cut to the Feeling by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 32k, YiZhan, Famous XZ/not-famous WYB, Soft Boys)

Stripped by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 16k, YiZhan, College/University)

next time there's no doubt by annemari (M, 35k, WYB/XZ, future fic, getting back together, past miscommunication, learning to communicate better, hurt/comfort)

The Upgrade Clause by fyredancer (E, 40k, YiZhan, Modern AU, Non-Famous XZ, Sugar dating, Mutual Pining, Blow Jobs, Love Bites, Sex Talk, Happy Ending)

even if the sky falls by fyredancer (E, 27k, YiZhan, Canon Divergence, Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Voyeurism, femboy XZ, cam/streaming, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Vibrators, Top WYB/Bottom XZSpanking, Safewords, Light BDSM, Restraints, Anal Fingering, Fisting, Sexual Roleplay, School Uniforms, First Time, Barebacking, Friends to Lovers, Blow Jobs)

Fixtures and Fittings by ella_minnow (E, 42k, WYB/XZ, interior designer XZ, motorcyclist WYB, pining, famous/non-famous, slowest burn)

Satisfaction Brought it Back by feenwitch (E, 16k, YiZhan, Magical Realism, Animal Transformation, Getting Together, Cohabitation)

听候发落; As You Wish by sunsandships (E, 99k, YiZhan, tw: mentions of homophobia, tw: light internalized homophobia, tw: smoking, tw: mentions of suicidal ideations and mental health issues (of non-main character), Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Non-Linear Narrative, Translated from Chinese, Top WYB/Bottom XZ, bjyx)

The Scent of Happiness by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 48k, YiZhan, soft baker XZ, famous WYB)

yesterday, tomorrow by sophiahelix (E, 80k, YiZhan, Movie Sets, Breaking Up & Making Up, Future Fic, Mutual Pining, reverse slow burn)

With Joy and Purpose by feenwitch (E, 29k, YiZhan, Robots & Androids, Space, Android WYB, Slow Build, Happy Ending)

forehead kisses, break my knees by kinkywrists (M, 54k, YiZhan, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Exes to Lovers, Slow Burn)

小偷玫瑰 · Voleur de Roses by fefedove (M, 14k, YiZhan, Friends With Benefits, Police, Closeted Character, Ambiguous/Open Ending, xz is an asshole, yibo is dumb, they fuckbuddies, slowburnish, Angst)

Pretty Dead by Verona95 (M, 252k, YiZhan, Strangers to Lovers, Police, Detectives, Crime Scenes, Investigations, Age Difference, Dark, Angst, Happy Ending, Fluff, Smut, Murder Mystery, Murder, Bottom WYB/Top XZ, Top WYB/Bottom XZ, Small Towns, Bratty WYB, Slow Burn)

A Weekend in Sanya by biscutpoo (Not Rated, 22k, YiZhan, Getting Back Together, Weddings, Sharing a Bed, Angst, Pining, bjyx, Post-Break Up, Tropical Destination Weddings, Top WYB/Bottom XZ, Non-Famous, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Close Your Pretty Eyes by DeviyudeThoolika (E, 20k, YiZhan, High School, College/University, Angst, Mutual Pining, the slowest burn, BJYX | WYB/XZ is Real)

~*~

2. Hi, I'm looking for a modern era fic. Xiao Zhan was in love with jin juxuan and was dumped by him. The world believes that xz betrayed him with another man. Later he owns an art gallery where he helps artists by displaying their works. Xz parents are rich and powerful. xz has I think a one night stand with wy who is a famous star and enters into a relationship with him. End of the story wy agrees to help run xz father's company. Hope you will be able to help me as it is truly a beautiful story

FOUND? Encounter by thetaintedblade (E, 129k, YiZhan, Top WYB/Bottom XZ)

Update: story appears to have been deleted, link will not work anymore - Mod C

~*~

#yizhan fic recs #yizhan fic finder #yizhan I'm in the mood for #yizhan fic search #rpf #yizhan rpf #yizhan #wangxianficfinder #long post

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roachsideblog · 6 months

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Hey! I've been working on a soapghostroach fic for a while and figured I'd share it here, too! It's inspired by Something in the Orange by my good pals RandomWordsAndStormyDays & insomniamemoirs! Give it a read if you haven't already. (Not to be confused by a fic of the same name by fixfoxnox, which is also a lovely story y'all should check out!)

I'm attempting to mash two canons together. Everyone lives, no one dies, and there will be a happy ending! Also we stan bisexual Soap in this house.

After the dramatic return of Roach, who'd been taken prisoner by Makarov's men after Shepherd's betrayal, Soap finds himself torn as he attempts to help his newfound battle buddy and their Lieutenant heal from the traumatic events they endured. On one hand, he cares for them deeply and wants to offer nothing but support. On the other, he's hurting in his own way. Unbeknownst to Soap, he's fallen hard for them both, and the way they look at each other rips his heart from his chest. As their relationships develop, he uncovers the secrets of his lovers' past lives.

TWs for implied/referenced torture, implied/referenced SA (never described, happened before the events of the fic!), past suicidal thoughts/attempts, graphic depictions of gore, religious guilt/trauma & homophobia, existential crises, nicotine addiction, and very mild alcoholism/using alcohol as a coping mechanism.

#gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soaproach #ghostroach #ghostsoaproach #tw sa mention #tw alcohol #tw smoking #tw torture #tw suicidality #tw gore #tw religious trauma #tw homophobia

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dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 1 year

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Divinity part seven

TW: religion, cult recruitment, briefly implied transphobia, referenced human sacrifice

Note: I tried to make it clear how plain and boring reality is for Wren when Vo'ki isn't around, and fingers crossed the style changes worked.

"Hello," Wren said, "do you mind if I do some prosthelytizing here?"

The librarian blinked at him in surprise. Her long honey blonde hair was pulled into a tight braided bun, to keep it from interfering in her work. A metal pin on her sweater revealed her name as Sarah and her pronouns as she/her.

"What religion are you prosthelytizing for, exactly?" Sarah asked.

"An ancient faith, now mostly forgotten." Wren took a deep breath, subduing his blasphemous nerves. "Have you ever heard of Kuerda?"

"Yes, I think everyone learned about it in highschool history class. A civilization from around five to four-thousand BC, practiced human sacrifice, had a pantheon of sibling gods. Do I have all that right?"

"Human sacrifices were very rare," Wren explained apologetically. "And done with full consent from the sacrifice in question."

"So." Sarah smiled slowly. "You're prosthelytizing for a nearly forgotten religion from six thousand years ago, in our library?"

"If that's alright with you ma'am."

"Have fun. But if anyone tells you to leave them alone, you have to respect their wishes. No harassment."

"Of course not. I know how to behave myself."

"Go right ahead then."

"Thank you." Wren smiled, though it was obscured by his veil. "Oh say, would you like to hear what I have to say? There aren't many people in here, so you seem to not be particularly busy."

"I'm devoutly Jewish. So, if you just want someone to listen, I will. But if you're looking for converts, you'd do well asking someone else."

Wren sighed. "Thanks anyway."

Wren walked away from the librarian's desk, scanning the room for someone who wasn't in the middle of studying. There was no point in being nuisance.

He sat down at a table, next to a man in a white dress shirt who seemed to be sitting around doing nothing.

"Hello," Wren said. "Mind if I join you?"

"No," he said, looking Wren over with a look of great judgment etched on his pale face.

"I'm Wren."

"David. And I must ask why a man such as yourself is wearing such effeminate clothing. Are you in drag?"

"No," Wren said hurriedly. "This is considered masculine by my religion's standards. Men have much stricter codes of modesty then women."

"What sort of woke nonsense is that, exactly?"

"It's actually a religion dating back more than seven thousand years. It was practiced in the Kuerdan Empire."

Wren was quite certain that he had picked the wrong man to approach. He seemed Evangelist, Republican, white trash.

"Excuse me," Wren said, pretending to check his cell phone. "I have to go."

He hurried to a different section of the large library, finding a young woman sitting alone.

Her computer was open in front of her, displaying the Blackboard program.

"Hello," Wren said. "May I sit down?"

She didn't look up from scrolling on her smartphone. "Knock yourself out."

"May I speak with you about my religion?"

"Nope."

Wren blinked. He hadn't expected quite so blunt a refusal. Was this what Jehova's Witnesses dealt with every day?

Weaving between library shelves lined with thousands of books, more than any mortal could read in their puny life span, Wren found other potential converts.

"Would you like to hear about my religion?" Wren asked a teenage boy, who was pursuing the fantasy section.

He pulled a heavy blue book from the shelf, turning it over to read the synopses. "I'm not joining a cult. Fuck off."

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything."

The next few people Wren approached were just as unhelpful to his aims.

Freak, loser, psycho, cultists.

If he had to hear one more word off their blasphemous tongues, he would develop a dehabilitating addiction to peace and quiet.

Taglist: @elim-flower @devourerofcheesecake @whumpsday @whumpshaped @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @hearse-song @heavenly-whumper @nyooom @suck-my-clit-loser

#Whump #Divinity #Religious whump #Cult whump #Abraham original: Hot off the press #Whump series #Whumpblr

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ao3feed-irondadspiderson · 12 hours

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To Be Seen

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55872985 by HorrorFishy A year after Endgame and Peter has yet to recover from the major life changes that have been thrown at him. Tony has a daughter, May moved on with a man he hates, she has two children of her own, they're in a new apartment, his friends' lives are just as chaotic, and he can't seem to find a corner to turn to. Feeling overwhelmed, alone, and hurt, he finds solace in unconventional, unhealthy ways thanks to one Harry Osborn. Read the tags and notes. The warning is light, and explained more in the notes. Words: 2040, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Peter Angst/Whump Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Multi, Other Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Aunt May Parker (Marvel), Avengers Team Members (Marvel), Other Avengers, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Harry Osborn, Original Male Character(s) Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Avengers Team Members & Peter Parker, Harry Osborn/Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: tw, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol, Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Drugs, Drug Addiction, Depression, Anxiety, References to Depression, Abuse, Domestic Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55872985

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #iron dad and spider son #spider son #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark

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lilliesthings · 2 years

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the only words that I'd known

relationships: Luke Alvez/Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid

wc: 8k

tw and tags: implied/referenced rape/noncon, ptsd, addiction, suicidal ideation, canon-typical violence, mentions of Tobias Hankel and Cat Adams, angst with happy ending

summary: His hands are shaky but he complies before he can give himself the chance to think about it, to talk himself out of it, because here and now, nothing is more tangible than the presence of Luke Alvez.

Like the hand that once guided him to safety in Mexico, it's an anchor so miraculous he sometimes imagines he manifested it himself, right as he was sure he would meet his end.

An alternate version to 13x02 where Spencer Reid is not quite ready to be reinstated.

READ ON AO3

READ ON TUMBLR

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #luke alvez #derek morgan #ralvez #eyyyyy I'm stupid proud and happy about finally finishing this ✨#but also #this is positively terrifying #the excruciating ordeal of being known

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thesoulesscollection · 1 year

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Feel Better? (Thsc Fic)

I've always wanted to write a one-shot about my Oc, Honey, that I'm a little proud of, so here it is, I hope.

Additional Tw/Tags: Implied/Referenced Drug Use/Addictions, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Depression, Bad Choices, Manipulation, Toxic Character, & Unhealthy Relationships

This one-shot I feel takes place around my Hc when Terrence was a right hand/elite member **

Just so you know if it isn't obvious, Honey isn't a good person whatsoever with no redeemable qualities. Also, I did want to try to explore the dynamic she has with others, Ie. Terrence Suave.

Smoking this crap is going to kill you, Terry.

With a strangled inhale, his nose wrinkled, taking in the fumes, Terrence felt like shit in the beginning, eyes burning, and throat tensing up. The pain, although a short one is excruciating, is far too excessive, hitting him like a freight train. Despite its intended purpose to help him relax, he could never quite get used to it, at least not completely without expressing the gross need to keel over at a moment's notice. The lazily self made smoke is snuffed out in an ant pile beside him. A hagged cough leaves him hunched in a fetal position, such an ugly pathetic mess who could never keep it together.

From the outside looking in, anyone who can be bothered to glance at his direction, Terrence understood he's a useless piece of shit. What they saw is a misfortunate to the clan, a dead weight trailing behind, no matter what there is no one that can see the good in him. True to the world, he isn't faring well, appearance wise, seen as an ugly disgrace, his old gray suit is wrinkled, torn, stained, and heavily coated in musty cobwebs. Worse, whenever he takes note in a mirror, he's gaunt, no meat or muscle on his withered bones. His unshaven face is sunken in, choppy black hair left askew, his eyes wide are unable to stop chasing the smallest movements.

"Terry, my dear friend, you look positively wretched. Would you like to take another hit? From something other than this awful mockery of a cigarette you got your hands on?" A sickeningly sweet voice pulls him from his troublesome thoughts, "And gosh. If I only knew you were going to spiral this bad, I would've brought heavier stuff then this"

Sickened that there's more potent stuff out then what he's taking currently, cigarettes simply laced with mild relaxers, Terrence reflects grimly, unwillingly being reminded of his bad choices, "N-No. I… I should be fine… Thanks though... Damn. Yet I still feel like shit"

"Sure you do. You know you wouldn't have to feel this way if you agreed to test out my new product. It shouldn't be too strong as it should be enough to help you feel better"

Then light pink shoes came into his line of clouded vision, then as it cleared, Terrence lazily noticed the woman's outfit. A pastel, knee length dress, joined by a long slit up to each hip revealing her slender, tanned thighs. Above noticing the design on her chest, was a full heart shaped cut, which he'll admit in great shame to staring at it for a split second too long. In a panicked haste to avoid further embarrassment he diverted his attention to her sharp angular face, full in makeup somehow she makes it look so natural. Her strawberry blonde hair is a swirly updo, where a few loose curls perfectly frames her face, and her intense amber eyes stare at him, slowly inspecting as if he were an ant.

In between her slender fingers, index and middle held a long, stick thin cigarette that was yet to be lit.

"… I just don't think it's a good idea…"

She bent over, hands laid flat on her knees so she could be eye level where he sat on the dirt ground. "Do you not trust me?"

"... I do…" Terrence crumpled. "... Honey… I'm in pain. Mentally, I'm not there. All the stuff I'm using isn't working anymore"

"You shouldn't be worried, dear. I wouldn't hurt you on purpose, would I? For this, you don't need to smoke it yourself, so you can equally get as high from the second hand stuff alone"

Tilting his head, curiously he watches the woman take a lighter from a hidden spot on her person, and lit the cigarette. Unlike what he initially expected, pink smoke fills the area, unnaturally thick like it's holding a weight. Furthermore, she isn't affected in the least, instead, whether he is reading the signals correctly here, she's actually enjoying the sensation. She then inches closer, filling her mouth, cheeks rounded until it can no longer be held within upon her exhaling through her cupid lips. In his shock she unleashed the smoke towards him, he experienced what he never felt before.

Again his sight falters until refocusing with a pleasantly comfortable sight. The hues were a little off, primarily pink color, takes hold. Both mind and body took a backseat to the new appeal ravishing his painstaken self, while he slumped against the wall. No more did he feel the tension dragging him to the deepest pits of hell. So amidst the colorful smoke clouds dancing ahead in many shapes there's little hearts freely floating around.

"Do you feel better?" She asks, standing aside, getting a lopsided grin in return by Terrence, "Nice. That's good. I was kinda worried it wouldn't"

"Y-you said this is new, right?"

"It is. It's a new hobby I took up. I come from a long standing family motto: we're meant to deliver the sweetest services to help the least fortunate"

Stuck in a blissful trance, a sweet escape from a cruel reality, Terrence, unworthy, is forever thankful for her gracious deeds.

"You needed this. Terry, you deserved this"

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aftgficrec · 8 months

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You’re so right, friend, it’s been far too long since we’ve recommended this fantastic fic! Thanks for submitting it. - S

We Used To Be Friends by gluupor [Rated M, 104576 words, complete, 2020]

Neil's life is thrown into disarray when his best friend is murdered. As he starts his senior year of high school, he finds himself on the outside looking in, a social pariah whose former friends are only too willing to bully and ostracize him. Working for his father, a private investigator, leads him to evidence that his friend's murder may not be as straightforward as it seems. Neil throws himself into the investigation, hoping that solving the case might help him regain some of what he lost.

tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: non-consensual drug use, tw: involuntary outing, tw: classism, tw: racism, tw: bullying, tw: violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced murder

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themand0lorian · 2 years

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AND THE OSCAR GOES TO… (3)

BEST VISUAL EFFECTS

Summary: Visual effects create the illusion of something there when it's not. Is this all a trick of the eye?

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: Mature

Words: ~5700 (AO3)

Tags: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Death of a sibling, Past Relationship, Flashbacks, Strangers to Lovers to Enemies to ???

Notes: Maybe after this things can start to look up for these two, huh???

TW for this part: underfunded schools, general allusion to 9/11/tragedy, rehab/mental health discussions, overdose talk

New York City, 2003

In the same way you frequented Uncle Louie’s, Dieter was a fixture in your classroom, too. It started with small things; stopping by at the end of the day to walk with you back home when you stayed late with a student. Helping you hang decorations over the summer before the next class rolled in. You tried to make things special; for a lot of the kids, this was their escape for the day. A chance to be kids and learn and not be so weighed down by the hand they were dealt. Some of the parents could barely get their kids out of the house dressed, fed, and on time—sometimes through none of their own fault—and you always wanted them to feel safe and loved when they were with you. Lord knows how many coats, mittens, hats you thrifted or scrounged up over the years; granola bars or bars of soap or a clean baby wipe offered without comment. These kids were little humans, and they needed someone on their side. Even if it meant taking some of your meager teacher’s salary to better their days.

Ten is always a tricky age. Still a kid to grown-ups, basically a grown up to younger kids. Some started sprouting in inches overnight, some had other bodily functions that they didn’t expect—some didn’t, and felt worse. Sometimes they still cried when their knees scuffed, sometimes they were trying to be tough. Either way, you were a lifeline for them; a chance for them to grow and explore and figure out who they were. To have fun—as much fun as the curriculum allowed, anyway.

It started on Halloween. You always went all out—decorated the classroom with spooky cutouts of bats and pumpkins, hung streamers from the ceiling. You planned a little party with Lizzie’s class for after lunch, with green punch in a witch’s cauldron and toilet-paper-mummies and even little masks the kids could decorate and wear if they didn’t have a costume that year. You didn’t have any volunteers to help out—something you had fretted over the morning of as you redid your costume one more time. You tried to pick relatively easy ones—always homemade, since it was cheaper that way, and something the kids would recognize. Last year you were Spongebob, which was a big hit. The year before, Ursula from The Little Mermaid—that had maybe been over the top.

This year, you were going to be Lilo from Lilo and Stitch. The kids loved the movie—talked about it all the time. Several lesson plans had been altered to be about Hawaii or surfing, kids seeing themselves in Lilo’s broken and put-back-together family or Stitch’s rowdiness. You even had the kids “hula dance” when you noticed them getting too fidgety. So a giant red tshirt from the thrift store with hand painted leaves, flip flops, and a flower for your hair, you were set. You even had a little plush Stitch to come with you. You didn’t necessarily look like Lilo in your face, but you think it came across.

Still, Dieter wished you luck, a quick peck before your flourished out the door with four bags strung through your hands.

The kids were brimming with excitement, in awe of the little piece of the holiday you brought into the classroom. You tried to make your lessons that day a bit spooky, but it was clear you were losing them. The party came quickly, yours and Lizzie’s class squeezing into one room. But it was difficult for the two of you to keep up with 50 kids, dole out punch, organize games. You felt a little overwhelmed, especially when Matt came up to get another cookie.

“Miss—are you dressed up, or is that your real clothes?” You puffed out a breath, a bit defeated, but before you could answer, your classroom door swung open, shocking both you and the students.

There stood Dieter, decked out in head-to-toe blue, two large pink ears clipped to his unkempt hair and an eyeliner button nose drawn on.

“She’s Lilo, of course! My best friend!” He supplied, coming in with a big smile as some of the kids ooh-ed and aah-ed. He strung his arm around your shoulders as you looked at him incredulously.

“What are you doing here?” “Heard you needed help,” he smiled, eyes on you with a look you could only pinpoint as adoration. “Louie’s was slow. Here I am.” He could feel your shoulders sag in relief, a big smile across your face. Your knight in shining armor.

“Here you are,” you murmur, lost in the moment until one of the kids runs up to start asking Dee about life as an alien.

To his credit, he plays the part. You didn’t know he had even seen the movie, but he fills in all the best details while helping to wrangle kids into games, glue sparkles onto masks, or dish out snacks. He even started handing out Kit-Kats—no doubt making a stop for his favorite before coming in—to each kid who said “Trick or Treat!” knowing they wouldn’t be going around once they got home. Overall, it was a memorable, fun, happy day, one you hoped the kids would remember.

Remember they did. It took all of about two days for them to ask when “Mr. Dee” was coming back. They pleaded and begged, clearly developing a new favorite. Dieter had never been super into children, but he liked them well-enough, and he was happy as a clam when you told him they were asking after him.

That’s how he became a regular in the classroom. Sometimes he would stop by on half days, when free lunch wasn’t provided, with pizza and water. Sometimes he came to read to the kids as a guest reader—they were infinitely more excited for him than Dr. Partridge, who had just finished up the last guest reading spot with a book about George Washington. Dieter always wowed them, big and animated as he changed his voice or walked around the room. You tried not to be jealous of their new favorite—even when Jennie shyly gave him a string bracelet she had made after school, insisting she made it just for him and blushing when he thanked her sincerely.

“Do I sense some competition?” You murmur to him jokingly, glancing down at the string tied to his wrist.

“Never,” he replies simply, a chaste squeeze of your hand. “Unless it’s for who’s their favorite. Then it’s no competition.” You hit his chest playfully, watching as he helped hang some of the kids’ art in the hallway.

He always seemed to know just when to step in—when you told him about the kids not believing in Santa, many of their parents struggling too much to keep the spirit alive, he bust into your classroom holiday party in a rented red suit, allowing each kid to tell him what they wanted before handing them a little book of puzzles and mazes from the dollar store. He answered questions easily, whether they be why some people celebrated different holidays (you had covered them the last few days) or why Santa never seemed to come to their house. For so many of them, the biggest gift they got that year, was the day of celebration at school.

When you fretted over the art program being cut—worried about what other after school activities would come to fruition—he volunteered readily, easily leading a makeshift version of the Wizard of Oz. He even convinced some of the kindergarteners to act as the munchkins, and he beamed when they all took their final bows. The mess-ups, the forgotten lines, the number of times he had to go out on stage and hold a kindergartener’s hand so they would say what they needed to—none of it mattered.

To either of you.

Dieter had a big heart. You knew that about him, of course. But you loved watching this side of him too. Considering the future—would he want kids of your own? Would he coach their baseball teams or attend dance recitals? Or would he be too busy being the big Hollywood star he was meant to be?

Dieter had gotten a few more roles since Jason died. He had an agent now, booking him small gigs on pilots and minor recurring characters. He wasn’t exactly recognizable, but he was doing well, and he was happy—even when pilots went unaired or characters were quickly killed off. He truly did everything with his full heart—even waitering at Louie’s—as you both fell further into your routines. He supported you a year after Jason’s death, acting as your anchor when you had to nervously give the dedication speech for a park bench in your hometown. You supported him when yet another pilot went nowhere, encouraging him to get the next one. You had fun staying in, had fun going out with friends, had fun just being together. You were both so hopelessly, endlessly in love with each other, you’re surprised you didn’t see it coming.

Dieter had a particular fondness with one of your classes—the first one he had helped out with, with Jennie and Matt and all the other kids trying to find their way after their home was rocked by a national tragedy at a young age. Even as they moved up a grade, you kept in touch with them, supporting them when they needed it, and eventually, most of them had cited you as their favorite teacher in their 5th grade yearbook. When the time came, you had been asked to give their graduation speech—it was a small thing, mostly for their classmates since you knew their parents wouldn’t make it, but you still fretted over your words like it was your inauguration speech. Dieter watched as you nervously dressed and redressed the kids, as you adjusted little caps and gowns that had been used in the ceremony for the last twenty years—you had asked him to come, to be your calm—which he was always good at. He sat in the back, dutifully watched as each 5th grader’s name was read out, clapping for all of them. He listened to your speech with rapt attention. He gave Jennie a big thumbs up when she stood to lead the pledge of allegiance, proudly displaying the bracelet she gave him, still tied to his wrist. He was probably more into the whole thing than the few parents who were able to make it.

Which is why it was so puzzling when, in the craze of getting caps and gowns Lysol-ed and put away and kids sent home and goodbyes and short yearbook signatures, you couldn’t find him when you were ready to head out. Most of the kids had left, a few stragglers around, and you looked around confusedly until Lizzie came up to you, holding out a few last caps.

“Hey—can you throw these in your closet? Mine is packed to the brim.” You nod, ignoring her broad smile with a shrug and walking toward your classroom instead, ready to stow a few more things in your closet which was already packed with enough stuff to cause an earthquake if pulled the wrong way. You notice the door cracked open to your room—not how you would’ve left it—and roll your eyes.

“Lizzie, did you forget—” Your words get caught in your throat as you step into the classroom, the items you were holding falling to the floor; each of your students stands there with a piece of construction paper, clearly drawn or painted or decorated by each of them with their own flair. Each of them have wide smiles as they fidget excitedly. They’re standing there in a distinct order—the large black letters over their drawings spelling out “Will you marry me?” while Dieter is down on one knee in front of them, presenting a ring box to you as he nervously smiles.

“Sweetheart—I know—I know I’m just another failing actor-turned-waiter in this big city. A nobody. Still, you’ve loved me anyway, all this time. You’ve always been my number one fan, even when I wasn’t even sure I would continue doing this. We’ve gone through too much already, but I can’t imagine going through it with anyone else—I don’t ever want to go through it with anyone else. I’ll be honest--finding you in that dumpster is the best thing that ever happened to me.” A few of the kids snicker behind him as he chuckles; you have tears in your eyes, a hand over your mouth, but you huff in amusement too as he says your full name. “I promise I will always love you. I will always be with you. You will always be my number one—in love, in life, in everything. Will you marry me?”

You take a moment to look at the scene in front of you; Dieter presenting a beautiful ring, down on one knee; the kids eagerly smiling and squirming, awaiting a response; the sun starting to set, streaming through the classroom windows. Nothing could be more perfect—Dieter couldn’t be more perfect. It’s why the answer comes out of you with a shout.

“Yes!” You choke out, and he crumples in relief, finally standing to you. He begins to slip the ring on your finger as you speak. “Of course I’ll marry you, Dee—I—oh, God,” you stutter, watching as he slides it on. “I promise, I love you so much—I’ll always love you as much as I do in this moment,” you sob, and he laughs lightly, tears pooling in his eyes as he pulls your face to his for a passionate kiss; his arms encircling you like he’ll never let you go as you move as one, lips locked--

Only to be broken up by a chorus of disgusted children.

“Hey—isn’t a lady allowed to kiss her future husband?” You ask jokingly, looking to the kids, and Dieter preens.

“No!” Jennie huffs, stomping a foot, and you both laugh as Dieter pulls you into another embrace and kiss.

New York City, Present

You end up taking the next day off from work, emailing sub plans to Lizzie and then turning off to the world as you led into the weekend. Dieter showing up again, after all this time—it feels like he’s tilted your world off its axis. Again.

He had a knack for doing that. For waiting until things felt still, for waiting until you’re calm and happy and able to forget about him, push him to the edges of your mind until he whisks in like a storm, disrupting the quiet you worked hard to make. You used to love that about him; the way he would knock you off your axis, only to right you again; always the knight in shining armor. But now—now it’s been years. And you like your axis how it is.

You heard some things about Dieter throughout the years—it would have been hard not to. You never sought it out, but printed on magazines in checkout lanes and entertainment news on the TV while you got your nails done, or just by word of mouth, he always lingered. International superstar, Hollywood villain—none of it felt like the Dieter you knew. You watched as he rose in the ranks, taking on bigger and bigger projects, walking red carpets with beautiful women and giving interviews—even after you left, he always seemed fine. Happy. He never faltered in his career, never became reclusive with a broken heart. It all just cemented your decision; you had been holding him back. He could finally get everything he wanted—be who he wanted to be, who he was supposed to be—without you in the picture.

You watched the public downfall of his career from afar. It started with a very messy, very public breakup—another beautiful, rich actress accusing him of everything under the sun; he was never sober. He threatened her. He called her names, he ruined her life—none of it sounded like the Dieter you knew, but you supposed you didn’t really know him at the end, anyway. Still, you held out hope that it was all some ruse.

He fell into the drugs more after that; at least, according to the tabloids. She was right, he was never sober anymore—though he always claimed he had it under control. There had been stints of rehab that he didn’t complete, wild benders with alcohol and women and more drugs—every promise he ever made seemed insignificant. There was rumors he OD’d on a film set—some D-list threequel, four-quel, five-quel that barely even made it to screen. That was where he met his latest blond—young, pretty thing. “Normal,” like you. It made you want to vomit.

It wasn’t that you held on hope for him—no matter what your heart whispered late at night. It wasn’t that he was a stranger, the man you thought would always be linked to you. It was that these women—this life he was leading—he never once reached out to you. Checked on your parents, asked how that shitty park bench in your hometown was holding up. You thought, at first, that he might—the ball had to be in his court. You knew you’d never get close to Hollywood superstar Dieter Bravo. He needed to get to you.

So you stayed in the same apartment; kept the landline for way too long. You knew it was a long shot, knew your life wasn’t a shitty rom com—even if he did star in one—but still. It was like he completely forgot about you.

So you tried to do the same. Tried to move, realized you couldn't afford it, ended up staying; ditched the landline; pulled yourself up, alone. You poured yourself into your work—PS 365 always the same—and ignored the pain in your heart until you could compartmentalize it like another lesson plan. Everything you had learned about him had essentially been against your will, stuck in the same compartment until it was close to bursting, poured out over wine nights with Lizzie or alone in the dark.

She knew not to ask when she saw you on Monday. Lizzie, for all the things she heard, for everything she knew, was a saint. She never leaked it to the press, never pushed when you were wrung dry. She did her best to keep all things Dieter Bravo out of your life—as much as she could—and just be a steady, loving friend, even when things fell apart.

That, of course, didn’t stop her from giving you a pointed look when you walked into the teacher’s room for lunch.

“Don’t say it, Liz,” you sigh.

“I didn’t say anything,” she mumbles innocently around her salad. “I just—is everything okay?” “He’s fine. I stayed until he woke up and then left.”

“Okay—” she huffs. “But what about you? Are you okay?”

“I’m not the one who overdosed on school property—” “I don’t care. You’re the one I care about,” she retorts, and you shrink a bit. “He has the whole world to care about him and how he’s doing. You have me.” Dr. Partridge walks in, eyeing your table, and you wither.

“I—I’m okay. Or I will be. I don’t know,” you shrug, and watch as the principal makes her way over, calling you by your last name.

“I trust that—things—have been dealt with?” She gives both you and Lizzie a look, and Liz rolls her eyes.

“Yes, ma’am,” you murmur, breaking into your own lunch. “Won’t happen again.”

“I’ve brought in counselors for the children—some are rightfully upset.” “I understand that, Anya,” you retort. “But I did not ask him to come here. I did not ask him to come back and ruin my life again. He knows where I work—it’s the same classroom as twenty years ago. So if you’re trying to blame me for this—”

“I’m not,” she replies quickly. “I—I just think—” She pauses, gathering herself. “The counselors are here. If you need them.” You soften a bit; Anya had always been like a second mother, a mentor, a professional advisor for you. She didn’t deserve your ire, but she also did everything by the books, and for as fiercely as she loved and protected her school, she would have anyone’s neck for potentially ruining things.

“I’ll think about it,” you placate, and she walks away, satisfied, as Liz rolls her eyes again.

“You were saying—you’re not okay?”

“Liz,” you sigh. “I—I’ll get there, you know? I just—it’s brought up a lot of things. He did what he does best—swoops in at the last minute to try to fix everything. But some stuff—I don’t know if it can be fixed,” you offer honestly. “I told him if he gets clean—then maybe we could talk. But we both know—he’s probably already forgotten what happened and is on to the next catastrophe,” you roll your eyes, noticing that Lizzie has stopped mid-chew to pull out her phone. “What?” “I saw this on Instagram yesterday—” she continues scrolling as she speaks, pulling up something before handing her phone to you. On her recommended page is a picture of Dieter looking particularly haggard, walking into a white building. The location is tagged as the Tribeca Opioid Center—opening the link, you see it’s another rehab program. You look between the phone and Liz in shock.

“I—I’m sure it’s just his team making him clean up his act. The press from overdosing in a school could not have been good--” you try to explain.

“Maybe,” Liz offers, as the school bell rings. You barely touched your lunch. “But maybe not.”

The rest of the school year moves as it always does, albeit a bit more focused on safety. The kids are shaken up, and you spend some time going over what to do in an emergency, how to get help and find trusted adults, and a watered-down version of what drugs can do to you to assuage their fears until you can fall back into your routine. Unfortunately, with the state of the world, they were all too familiar with tragedy, and were able to put the preparation information away in their brains until they needed it to get back to spelling tests and kickball.

Soon enough, it was like Dieter had never happened. Lost in standardized testing and end-of-year recommendations and IEPs, you could almost forget how upsetting it was to watch him almost die. To sit in that hospital room. To see him again.

You could almost get lost in the routine, until you shuffled through your mail on the four-floor walkup to your apartment, and saw a letter addressed to you with the return address only listing “TOC.”

You ripped it open in confusion, anticipating another request for donations or a credit card offer with awful rates. But you stop in your tracks just outside your door, dropping the other items in your arms when you pull out a hand-written letter in familiar scrawled capital letters.

Sweetheart—

I did what you asked. It was time. Seeing you again, even like that—it was like you opened my eyes again. You always knew how to do that.

I’ve been here for almost 90 days now—a new record for me. This is one of the last steps we have—to write a letter to someone we’ve hurt because of our drug use. The next one is supposed to be to someone who inspires us to be better—I decided to kill two birds with one stone.

I’m sorry. There are no better words to convey more than that. I am so, truly sorry for all the hurt you’ve been through because of me. I was hurting too, and I guess—that’s why this all started. With the pain pills. At least that’s what the therapist says. I was trying to deal with my hurt, and nothing seemed to work, until it did. And then I couldn’t stop.

I don’t want to bore you with all that. I’m almost done here—a few more weeks. I made a promise to you, and I intend to keep it—I want to get clean. I need to get clean. I think I’m getting there.

I suppose I intended to keep all those promises we used to make, but this time I really

When we go to group, so many of these guys say this is the hardest thing they’ve ever done in their life. They’re right—it’s hard. Really hard.

But the hardest thing I ever did in my life is watching you walk away and knowing you weren’t coming back. I would do this a thousand times over if it meant that never happened. Even all these years later, it’s you who inspires me. In my job, in my life—in everything.

In a few weeks, they’re having a thing. They call it a “graduation” since it’s the end of the program. I know you’ve been to a lot of those—usually a bunch of 11-year-olds—but I included an invitation here. I know I fucked up and I don’t deserve you there. But I’d like you there, if you want.

-D

There were two things you refused to tolerate in your classroom; lateness, and giving up on something without a good reason.

Unfortunately, you had already ruined one of those things—the subway shut down mid-ride, leaving you stranded for 45 minutes somewhere underground while the teenager next to you blasted music from a speaker and the old woman across from you read the paper, huffing and mumbling over every new headline. Eventually, they had fixed whatever the problem was, the trains starting to move again, but the damage was done.

The second, you were close to ruining as well—alarm bells rang in your head as you ran the three blocks to the building, up the stairs, and checked in at the main office. You persevered all the way until you reached the room, but then, it was like your feet were cemented to the floor.

The room was nice, unassuming. Bright, though you guessed the large windows were tinted from the outside for privacy despite being several floors up. TV’s lined the top of the walls, playing various outdated sitcoms or the news. Several tables were set up, silver metal bolted to the floor along with the attached chairs. One long one along the back wall held snacks and drinks, mostly untouched—but each table held families in varying degrees of conversation. Kids sitting on laps, wives and husbands holding hands. Everyone full of congratulations and pride. Families.

And at a table off to the side sat Dieter. Alone. No one to celebrate with, to pat him on the back. And you realized—maybe you had made a mistake.

You weren’t his family—not anymore. You weren’t anything to him but the woman who saved his life. Sure, you had poured over his letter—analyzed every crossed T and dotted I, practically memorized the words until you could hear them in his voice. But you shouldn’t have come.

You turn to leave, lost in the shuffle of the other families and friends but then you hear it—your name, from his lips. And you look up.

And you can almost see Dieter from 20 years ago in that face, standing in his spot at the table. The sheer hope; the happiness. The awestruck, goofy smile, the wide eyes with a few more wrinkles. He somehow looks 20 years younger and fifteen years older from how you remember him, but the unbridled joy he radiates at seeing you—you make your way to his table.

“I—I can’t believe you came,” he offers quietly. He moves to hug you, but you both dance around each other, settling after no greeting at all.

“You asked me to,” you reply smally. You both sit there awkwardly; Dieter drums his hands on the table as you both fidget. Something hangs over you both, but discomfort seems to cloud either of you.

“You—you look great,” he tries, an innocent smile.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” You huff sarcastically, and he shakes his head.

“Not when you look like that,” he gestures. He can still make your heart skip a beat after all these years.

“You look good, too, Dee. Healthy,” you add, and he releases a sardonic chuckle. “I mean it. You look good.”

“I feel good,” he replies simply. “Well—better. I’m still—the road doesn’t end here,” he scrubs a hand over his face. “Still gotta keep up with everything, you know?” You don’t, not really, but you nod anyway.

“I hope you do.”

“I will,” he assures you. “I promise.”

“Dieter, don’t—“ You bite your tongue before you can get into it, not wanting to ruin the moment, but it seems to spill out anyway. “—Don’t make any more promises. Please.”

“Baby—” “Dieter, no,” you try, a little more forcefully. He snaps his mouth shut, shaking his head and mumbling. “You said if I got clean, we could talk.”

“Is that why you invited me here?” You narrow your gaze. “To prove you could get clean?” “That’s really what you’re asking?” He asks incredulously. “Everything that’s happened and that’s your question?”

“No—I have so many questions, Dee. But I thought we could start there.” He huffs, scrubbing a hand over his scruff. Most of the other families have left by now, eager to get home, but you shift uncomfortably in the metal chair. Your heart is in your throat, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the swooping pain of heartbreak—to fade and be forgotten in the fray.

“I asked you here because everything I said in that letter was true. You are—were—my inspiration, and I wanted—I don’t know. I just—I needed to see you.”

“Is that why you came to my classroom?”

“I don’t even know if I knew I was going to your classroom. I—I was so rough, it was like my feet just led me there.” You nod, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. “I’m sorry—I know it was fucked up. To make you go through all that, after Jason and everything—I really didn’t intend to—”

“No one intends to overdose, Dieter,” you mumble, and he deflates.

“I know. And I’m sorry. There’s really nothing else for me to say but that.”

He looks sadly sincere, but without an acceptance of his apology, you both begin to look around awkwardly. The tension between you is clear, like some unmoving rock, and you watch one of the TVs in the corner to distract you a moment. An older movie is playing—daytime TV—about a substitute teacher trying to turn his elementary school class into a rock band. You chuckle a bit, watching as the man tries to teach his students to play guitar.

“You know, I always thought you’d be a good Dewey,” you try, throwing a lifeline as you raise your eyebrows toward the screen. Dieter looks at it, then back to you.

“I almost was,” he admits sheepishly, and you pin him with a look to explain. “I had a callback for that movie. Would’ve been my first starring role.”

“I don’t think I knew that.” “You didn’t,” he admits. “It—uh—they wanted me to fly out to LA for a week. It was the same week as Jason’s dedication ceremony, and you needed me there—” Your face falls, and he quickly compensates. “I told them 'no.'”

“Dee—” You start, tears beginning to form. Losing out on a role like that—even just the opportunity for it—would’ve been a big deal. It could have put him on the map well before he actually “made it,” would have launched his career. A huge sacrifice over a speech in a local park to your family and friends that made you nervous. “You know I would’ve told you to go if I knew—” “I know,” he cuts you off. “It’s why I never told you. I wanted to be here. For you. With you.” He looks around, trying to brush it off, but you finally reach a tentative hand over the table and lock your fingers with his.

“Thank you, Dieter.” He nods, squeezing your hand back. For the first time since you walked in, he smiles—really smiles—even if it’s small.

“I would do it again in a heartbeat,” he admits. You both sit quietly, enjoying each other’s company a bit more now that the ice is broken, your hand in his. A clinic worker begins clearing things from the tables, signaling the time to leave.

“What will you do now?”

“Uh—not sure,” he admits, running a hand over his neck as he stands with you to walk you out. “I—I don’t know if I should go back to my house in LA. I just—there’s a lot of memories there. Triggers. And hiding spots. I think—it might be too tempting.” You nod in understanding. “Plus, I have to keep up with my therapist here, so—I don’t know. Maybe a hotel for a while.” You turn to look at him, approaching the exit to the clinic. He stops, looking back at you with some level of familiarity in those chocolate eyes; some level of fondness that can’t be extinguished. You take a deep breath, then take the plunge your heart has been waiting for.

“You know—the spare bedroom is free.”

TAGS: @pjkimrn @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @marydjarin @eri16 @curiouskeyboard @frankiemoraleswifexo @justjaclin @elegantduckturtle @janebby @leslie-lyman @bison-writes @imtryingmybeskar @athalien @vaguely-here-wish-i-was-not @kirsteng42 @girlofchaos @deadhumourist @amneris21 @swtaura @tintinn16 @squidwell @littlemisspascal @churchill356 @thesmutslut @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @RANDEERENAE @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @hnt-escape @gracie7209 @xx-small-town-witch-xx @jediknight122 @randeerenae @0ni0nb0i

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x y/n #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n

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ao3feed-birdflash · 8 months

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#IFTTT #fanfic #dick grayson #wally west #dickwally #birdflash

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insoukokuhell-434 · 8 months

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Angst with a Happy Ending - skk fics

The format I’m using is:

Title - writer (ao3 link)

Angst related to ( )

Fic length Time period (teen/mafia skk, 22! Skk, all ages) Additional tags (Tags in bold added by me for extra info) TW

Some fics have parts of the summary/ comments added for additional info

Recovery - rutu14

Chuuya in Emotional & Physical Pain

Dazai in Emotional Pain

Dazai's Self-harm

11.4k 22 SKK (Post Dead Apple) Hurt/Comfort Post-Corruption, Angst, Confessions, Soft Dazai Osamu (or at least as soft as he can be), Reconciliation, Getting together, First kiss, Literal sleeping together TW - Implied Chronic Pain, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction

my soul is too much charged with blood of thine- soupthatistoohot

Past Break-up

Soukoku in Emotional Pain

Dazai's Depression

10.4k TEEN & 23 SKK (AU) AU - No Powers, After College/University, High School Exes to Lovers, Chance Meetings, Post-Break Up, Past SKK but also present ;), Getting Back Together, vaguely, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Texting, reconnecting, Dazai is a Mess, Caring Dazai, as caring as he can be y'know how he is, Guarded Dazai, that man can't be vulnerable for the life of him, Chuuya Is So Done, Caring Chuuya, skk’s Unconventional Mating Rituals, Macbeth Spoilers, I can't believe I have to tag that

Sleep Warm Tonight - bluemango0406

Dazai's Defection

Dazai & Chuuya in Emotional Pain

16.6k ALL AGES (16-22) Canon Compliant Dazai is Bad at Feelings, Dazai is a Mess, Soft Dazai Osamu, Chuuya Needs a Hug, Hurt Chuuya, theres a lot they need to figure out between them, Dazai Takes Care of Chuuya, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, they need to learn to talk about their feelings more, Underage Drinking, Christmas fic

I'll Always Come for Chuuya - Anonymous

Soukoku Fight

Chuuya in Emotional & Physical Pain

Dazai in Emotional Pain

11.5k MAFIA SKK Some Dazai & Oda, Jealous Chuuya, Dazai Being An Idiot, Dazai is Bad at Feelings, Lack of Communication, Chuuya Uses Corruption, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Dazai Takes Care of Chuuya, Confessions, Soft skk, they're more best friends than frenemies in this one

I think he knows - sanguinekitten

Dazai’s Depression

Chuuya in Emotional Pain

Soukoku Fight

5.2k ALL AGES Canon Compliant Angst, 5+1 Things, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Dazai needs a hug...and some medical attention

pages stained with crimson ink - soupthatistoohot

Dazai's Depression

ALL AGES 5k Birthday Presents, Birthday Tradition, Post-Corruption Ability Use, Retrospective, 5+1 Things, Getting Together, Sort Of, Dazai's depression

For One Day - StarshipDancer

"Unrequited" Love

Soukoku in Emotional Pain

Soukoku Fight

15.9K 22 (AU) AU - Modern Setting Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Misunderstandingsm Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, First Kiss, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Soft skk, POV Chuuya, POV Oda, Curry References TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions

believe me darling, the stars were made for falling -communist_sasuke

Dazai’s Depression, Self Harm, Suicide Attempt

14.6k MAFIA & 22 SKK Worried Chuuya, Love Confessions, Dazai is a Mess, Angst, Self-Harm , Fluff & Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon timeline, First Kiss TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions , Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt

Run Away With Me - Anonymous

Dazai's Grief

A Stupid Question - writingfromtheshadows

Dazai's Grief

Soukoku Argue

5.8k 18 SKK (Dark Era) AU - Canon Divergence Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, Light Angst, Fluff

Summary - “Chuuya,” Dazai’s voice tugs Chuuya out of his thoughts, “I’m leaving the Port Mafia as soon as I can after tonight. I want you to come with me.”

Unmarked - rubydragonz

Dazai in Emotional Pain

2.7k ALL AGES AU - soulmates Soulmates, Miscommunication, Dazai being An Idiot, First Kiss, minor Oda/Ango, minor sskk, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, This is funny but like at Dazais expense

dreaming of flight - orphan_account

Soukoku Fight

3.8 k MAFIA SKK Fluff, Arguments, Suicide Attempt, angst and fluff

Please like/reblog if this helped u find a fic, I'd be delighted to know <33

Angst & Fluff fics

Soukoku Fic Rec Masterlist

#soukoku #soukoku fic rec #skk fic rec #soukoku fics #skk fics #12 in total :D #sierra's recs #Sierra’s posts 🌸

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nx6fics · 1 year

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The Drug in Me is You

I made this based on a role play I did with my friend a couple of months back and then took it and rewrote it so it fits a fanfic's format, also this fic along with some of my other works were posted on my ao3 @throwingyou_ shade if anyone is interested enough

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TW:

Depression, References to Suicide, Self-Harm, Mentions of Mori, Referenced and Implied Child Abuse, References to/Past Drug Use and Past Alcoholism/Alcohol Abuse

If any of these topics make you uncomfortable or are a trigger of any sort I ask that you don't read this chapter and take care of yourself

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Dazai and Chuuya sleeping next to each other doesn't sound like much of a shock to most. In fact, it sounds pretty normal (not that either of them had much experience with normality). But it didn't feel that way to Dazai, quite the contrary, in fact, something as tainted as he doesn't deserve something as pure as Chuuya to even be near him, although it seemed Chuuya disagreed quite strongly considering how they were positioned now, Chuuya asleep with Dazai laid next to him staring at the ceiling.

Insomnia was nothing new to Dazai, it had been a normal occurrence for him for years. What had also become a more normal occurrence was for him to have peace of mind, peaceful for Dazai anyway. His life had begun to stabilize more than he ever thought was possible. He's been sober for weeks from alcohol (which had been his main addiction although he has taken other things from time to time) and has been clean off of self-harm for a while as well.

Now, of course, Dazai hadn't reached this point alone. He believed he could never have done it alone, he gave any and all credit to Chuuya for making it this far (not that he would admit it). His mind was a dark place, such intense darkness that he couldn't make it through alone, not without a small light to guide him through (that was Chuuya). The sun he couldn't live without, now that he's felt the warmth of it.

Despite giving all credits to staying clean to Chuuya, he still could hold up on his own on the nights he couldn't sleep. He predicted what had been happening recently to come again, Stare at the ceiling and wait for sleep to come with the sound of Yokohama's nightlife to keep him company and his mind somewhat quiet.

His expectations had already managed to have been proven incorrect. Although rare, quiet nights in Yokohama did happen, and it seemed that night was one of them. It was as if the entire city paused to give him time to ponder over how he'd been practically forced out of his old habits after officially getting together with Chuuya and moving in with him.

Chuuya had hit his thoughts once again. The thing that seemed to be the only constant in Dazai's life ever since they were 15. He was what kept him going for a while, whether it was up to him or not, but that was a story for another time.

Dazai started to ponder throughout his life when he first met Chuuya, when he was still with Mori, in the mafia, the difference between now and then was more than obvious to him, and his hate for Mori only grew as he continued to think it all over.

He hated Mori, that much could be seen as obvious, but what he hated most was being compared to him. Although he knew the similarities did exist he would never admit it, not out loud, nor to himself.

All he ever heard from people talking about Mori was how much of a monster he was. And Dazai knew, deep, deep, down, that he was exactly the same. After all, what could a monster raise but 1 of its own? No matter how much he tried to convince himself he was a good person now and that he was making Oda proud, he couldn't help the little voices in his head telling him otherwise.

Akutagawa was living proof of all of what they always said to him, the abusive, ruthless, emotionless and monstrous part of him was what caused Akutagawa to be the way he was now, and if he had changed you'd think he'd try to fix it by now, right?

And there was that word, "emotionless". For a long time (most of his memorable life, really) he was a numb being, an enigma that found living too exhausting yet wasn't in a full rush to meet his demise. Although he did attempt suicide in the past (quite often might I add), he never did it because he necessarily wanted death in particular, to him death was his only permanent release of life's burdens. He wandered the world in search of a reason to live, to no longer want such a release, and he told himself that if he did find that reason then he'd live. And if he didn't then he could try suicide again, if he died then he died, if not then he'll continue living for a while longer.

A thing that neither wanted to live nor die. The thing that wandered humanity as if its one of its own. The thing that hid among humans and acted as if it were one of their kind. The thing that believed itself to be something less than human. The thing haunted by his past actions but couldn't bring himself to find a reason strong enough to have him determined to end his life

That was Dazai.

And he hated himself for it.

His gaze travelled to the sleeping figure beside him.

He couldn't help questioning how something so pure, so human could claim to love a thing such as himself. How could he look him in the eyes and tell him he loved him and mean every word he says, and even if he didn't, the fact that he could even look at him without a look of utter disgust was already so much more than something like him deserved? How he could love him when he despised himself so much?

He couldn't understand, or maybe he didn't want to, who can tell?

His thoughts wandered on and with that, he couldn't take lying still like that any longer. His trip to the bathroom was a quick one and one he was used to.

He didn't realise he had opened and closed the door to the bathroom until he slid down it. How did he get here? He wasn't fully sure himself.

He didn't need the lights on to find the blades he'd hidden in there. It was practically muscle memory at this point.

As he removed the false bottom from the cabinet to grab one of the sharper blades he owned he couldn't help but notice the feeling of numbness he so often experienced, if it can even be called a feeling. The feeling he believed robbed him of whatever little humanity he once may or may not have had.

So forth, he dragged the blade across his skin and watched the blood pour from it, he couldn't help thinking that this feeling of pain was the closest thing he could ever come to being human. So with no regrets, he continued to drag the blade across his skin as he watched the blood pour from his wounds with morbid fascination.

{–} - {–} - {–} - {–} - {–}

Chuuya woke up to a cold and empty bed. He sat up rubbing his eyes glancing to the side to see the clock next to him brightly blaring that it was nearing 2 am. He started glancing around him looking for where his boyfriend could possibly be at 2 am. He saw the door to their bedroom was open.

With slight dread, he got up and turned the hallway light on, and made his way through the apartment in search of Dazai.

His instincts led him to the bathroom door. With a long breath in, he reached for the bathroom door knob and turned it with a slight stiffness that only showed in these situations.

What he saw was nothing new, nor was it the worst he's walked in on. That didn't make it any less hard to see.

He was sitting in the corner of the room, leaning on the wall next to him, face buried in his knees with his arms next to him. They were bleeding at a steady rate with the blade on the ground next to him.

His first reaction to the situation was to slowly walk towards Dazai and quietly take the blade from next to him.

"Dazai.."

His name was spoken quietly and with a tone of softness mixed in with it. Dazai knew he was there, he heard him turn the hallway lights on, he also heard his footsteps heading towards him and the door opening, despite Chuuya's attempt to do it quietly.

The matter of fact was, he was ashamed. He couldn't look at him like this, not after everything he's done to help, only for him to throw it away so easily. So he didn't respond, not that Chuuya was expecting much of a response.

Chuuya let out a small sigh and opened the bathroom cupboard to grab bandages and disinfectant. None of his cuts needed stitches this time, something Chuuya was glad about.

He reached into the cupboard, grabbed what he needed and turned back to the younger who didn't move or say anything since he walked in.

He gently grabbed Dazai's wrist and pulled his right arm. Dazai didn't resist and let him grab his arm and start cleaning his cuts. He cleaned it and started bandaging that arm.

He had a lot of practice in dealing with wounds from both treating his own after missions and having to patch up Dazai on occasions like these, so he knew how to do this properly.

It didn't take him long to finish the first arm before grabbing the other and repeating the process. Dazai didn't even look up at him yet, his face was still where it was.

When Chuuya finished patching up Dazai's other arm he let it go and sat next to him.

"Want to talk about what happened?", in the same soft tone he had spoken earlier.

How did he manage the calm tone? He wasn't sure himself. Not when he knew that someone he cared about so much was suffering and that there was nothing he could do to magically make it all better. It was a hard pill to swallow for Chuuya, but despite that, he'll still do the best he can to try to help the idiot he loved so much.

Dazai still wasn't looking at him nor did he show any signs of listening to him.

"Dazai, can you hear me?"

Dazai finally reacted and lifted his head slightly with his gaze still fixed on his knees. His eyes flashed Chuuya's way for a short moment before looking back down almost instantly.

In the moment he looked at Chuuya, he could see how empty his eyes and his overall expression looked.

Chuuya reached out to touch him but his hand halted halfway.

"Is it ok if I touch you?"

A small nod was the first proper response Chuuya had gotten throughout this whole ordeal. So with the consent given he placed his hand in Dazai's hair and started running his fingers through dark fluffy curls.

Dazai moved his head so the side of his face was on his knees, the other facing Chuuya. His gaze was fixed somewhere else, his expression was distant as it seemed his mind was wandering off somewhere else.

Chuuya moved his hand from Dazai's hair to cup his cheek and lightly brushed it with his thumb. Dazai's eyes travelled back to Chuuya slowly. They looked at him for a moment before going back to staring at the ground between them.

"..I'm sorry.."

Dazai's voice was barely audible, something just above a whisper. Chuuya barely managed to catch it.

"You don't have to apologise, you know"

"Stop it"

His tone only sharpened slightly as he looked up Chuuya's way again. And although his tone held a glint sharpness behind it all that Chuuya could see in his eyes was a broken plea.

"It's okay, I'm right here"

"Stop it"

His voice only increased in volume as something else more desperate mixed in with his plea. What it was? Chuuya wasn't sure. But what he did know was that Dazai needed him at the moment, whether he was willing to take the help or not, it was obviously needed.

Chuuya could guess what this was about, both from past experiences and from having a slight grasp of Dazai's mindset when it came to situations like these.

"You deserve care, Osamu. You're no less deserving of help than anyone else. You're human, Osamu, like anyone else you may make mistakes but you can work past them, but you might need help from someone else and that's okay. I'm here to help you when that happens."

A single tear rolled and hit the ground in front of Dazai. It soon became 2, and those 2 soon became 3, and so on and so forth. His gaze was just fixed on the ground seemingly having travelled there while Chuuya was talking.

Only after the 3rd tear did he slowly lift a shaky hand to his face to realise that he really was crying. It was then that Chuuya pulled him into a tight embrace with a hand guiding Dazai's head to his shoulder as he once again started running his fingers through Dazai's hair. The other hand rested on his back drawing shapes into it.

Dazai returned the embrace as he sobbed quietly into Chuuya's shoulder. Throughout the entire thing, Chuuya never let Dazai go. He held him tightly and only brought him impossibly closer and whispered reassurances to him.

By the end of the night, the both of them decided to stay awake for a little while longer before Dazai inevitably fell asleep from the exhaustion from the events of what is now the night prior.

Chuuya had yet again managed to be Dazai's reason to keep going, whether voluntary or not. Dazai wondered how he did it but didn't get to ponder on it too much as he started dosing off in the arms of the one he loves.

The one who yet again managed to save him from himself, the drug he'd been addicted to since he was 15. That was Chuuya. And when he woke up that morning with the sun shining brightly he knew that today would be a better day.

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Thank you if you actually took the time to read this- If I missed any TWs please let me know

And OMG THIS DRAGGED ON- I did not in any way intend for it to be this long but I needed a way to end it so it dragged on. I hope you enjoyed it at least

If I made any mistakes or if you have any constructive criticism please let me know so I can improve

Anyway, I hope you have a nice day/night!

#fanfic #double black #soukoku #angst #dazai angst #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #dazai oneshot #soukoku oneshot #bungou stray dogs #skk

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