The purr that has been clawing its way up Chuuya’s throat gets /stuck/, dying in a whimper.
It /halts/ because Dazai is licking his entrance, sucking on Chuuya’s tender rim with just the tiniest hint of pressure and teeth.
Suddenly, the omega suddenly can’t /function/.
It /halts/ because Dazai is licking his entrance, sucking on Chuuya’s tender rim with just the tiniest hint of pressure and teeth.
Suddenly, the omega suddenly can’t /function/.
And then Dazai angles his head, his rough tongue lapping at Chuuya’s slick-wet hole ever so /slowly/.
Deep. Deliberately languid.
Chuuya cusses in his mind, wanting /more/, but all he can do is squirm under Dazai.
Oh, he thinks. Oh.
Dazai is /eating/ his ass.
Deep. Deliberately languid.
Chuuya cusses in his mind, wanting /more/, but all he can do is squirm under Dazai.
Oh, he thinks. Oh.
Dazai is /eating/ his ass.
And the alpha is too close for comfort, with his nose sunk in Chuuya’s ass and so close to the very source of Chuuya’s ache, but—
But he’s also /savoring/ every inch of skin in a long, unhurried lick, and Chuuya’s not in /pain/.
// He’s not in pain.//
But he’s also /savoring/ every inch of skin in a long, unhurried lick, and Chuuya’s not in /pain/.
// He’s not in pain.//
On the contrary, Dazai’s mouth leaves behind shivers that spill over his body like a thousand tiny earthquakes, and the omega is suddenly /gasping/ for breath.
He wants to call Dazai’s name, but his vocal cords refuse to collaborate.
He’s /silenced/.
He wants to call Dazai’s name, but his vocal cords refuse to collaborate.
He’s /silenced/.
He’s hard and pliant and /crumbling/ under Dazai’s tongue again.
And to be honest—
There’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
Just at the feeling that bloomed in Chuuya’s chest surges, dancing on the edge between /heart-stopping/ and /overwhelming/,
And to be honest—
There’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
Just at the feeling that bloomed in Chuuya’s chest surges, dancing on the edge between /heart-stopping/ and /overwhelming/,
Dazai breath — just a little /cold/ — puffs over the omega’s sensitive ass.
A galaxy of stars explodes in front of Chuuya’s eyelids.
He /flinches/, his skin blooming with goosebumps, his back arching — not to shy away from the contact, but to press his ass into Dazai’s face.
A galaxy of stars explodes in front of Chuuya’s eyelids.
He /flinches/, his skin blooming with goosebumps, his back arching — not to shy away from the contact, but to press his ass into Dazai’s face.
Chuuya’s brain glitches in the futile attempt to /collect/ the hundreds of inputs passing through him.
Warmth, bone-shaking /warmth/.
Anxiety.
Arousal.
/Curiosity/.
“Da—!” He /cries/, voice tripping on itself.
He tries to turn, but strong hands keep him in place.
Warmth, bone-shaking /warmth/.
Anxiety.
Arousal.
/Curiosity/.
“Da—!” He /cries/, voice tripping on itself.
He tries to turn, but strong hands keep him in place.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll stop,” the alpha promises, voice muffled.
Chuuya gulps around the wad of cotton in his throat.
He doesn’t /want/ Dazai to stop.
Hell, he never felt this awake and /greedy/, so needy for something he didn’t even know he /could/ ask for.
Chuuya gulps around the wad of cotton in his throat.
He doesn’t /want/ Dazai to stop.
Hell, he never felt this awake and /greedy/, so needy for something he didn’t even know he /could/ ask for.
He’s not sure he will ever forgive the alpha if he stops now.
So Chuuya gnaws at his bottom lip, glancing behind his shoulder in the attempt to glimpse at Dazai.
He sees nothing. He feels /everything/, though.
So Chuuya gnaws at his bottom lip, glancing behind his shoulder in the attempt to glimpse at Dazai.
He sees nothing. He feels /everything/, though.
Want deluges the omega, violent but steady, swelling like a summer storm.
It lingers everywhere — in their scents, in the damp bathroom air, in his marrow.
Resisting is pointless, isn’t it?
“No,” he says. He needs to clear his voice to add: “/Go on/.”
It lingers everywhere — in their scents, in the damp bathroom air, in his marrow.
Resisting is pointless, isn’t it?
“No,” he says. He needs to clear his voice to add: “/Go on/.”
He’s not entirely sure, but every scrap of uncertainty disappears when Dazai parts his asscheeks, secure and /gentle/, and nuzzles his face in between.
One hand slithers forward, brushing against the sacks of the omega’s balls.
One hand slithers forward, brushing against the sacks of the omega’s balls.
He cups them as his tongue rolls over Chuuya’s rim, over and over, never quite getting /there/.
The omega holds his breath, shivering.
His heartbeat hiccups with the hot circles Dazai is drawing around his hole.
The omega holds his breath, shivering.
His heartbeat hiccups with the hot circles Dazai is drawing around his hole.
His purring stutters with the light pressure of Dazai’s hand over the tender flesh of his balls.
But it’s a blind, white-starred /emptiness/, a call for more, that guides Chuuya as he lowers one hand to touch his own dick.
But it’s a blind, white-starred /emptiness/, a call for more, that guides Chuuya as he lowers one hand to touch his own dick.
Lazily, he wonders if there is enough slick for /this/.
He produces less natural lubricant, he knows it. The doctors said it was ok, but—
The alpha’s tongue licks every drop clean, from the back of Chuuya’s thigh up to his ass.
*But he might not like it.*
He produces less natural lubricant, he knows it. The doctors said it was ok, but—
The alpha’s tongue licks every drop clean, from the back of Chuuya’s thigh up to his ass.
*But he might not like it.*
His voice breaks around a moan.
*He might end up /hurt/.*
The omega stokes his cock, biting his bottom lip. He grinds his ass again Dazai’s face, taking in /all/ his rim job.
Dazai is slow, meticulous.
Unnerving.
*And, damn, Chuuya might be the only fucked-up omega in
*He might end up /hurt/.*
The omega stokes his cock, biting his bottom lip. He grinds his ass again Dazai’s face, taking in /all/ his rim job.
Dazai is slow, meticulous.
Unnerving.
*And, damn, Chuuya might be the only fucked-up omega in
this fucked-up world that is not /made/ for sex.*
But Dazai is being so /careful/, and the thin slick streams running down his thighs reassure Chuuya more than a thousand promises, and—
*And, fuck, he /really/ wants this to /work/.*
But Dazai is being so /careful/, and the thin slick streams running down his thighs reassure Chuuya more than a thousand promises, and—
*And, fuck, he /really/ wants this to /work/.*
Chuuya’s fist clenches against the shower’s tile.
“Dazai,” he calls, voice choked up.
God, he’s being /bossy/.
Chuuya /knows/ for experience that his ex boyfriends didn’t like a whiny omega who ordered them around, but—
But Dazai is an uncharacteristic alpha, too.
“Dazai,” he calls, voice choked up.
God, he’s being /bossy/.
Chuuya /knows/ for experience that his ex boyfriends didn’t like a whiny omega who ordered them around, but—
But Dazai is an uncharacteristic alpha, too.
He /listens/, which is more than the majority of the people Chuuya met was willing to do.
He blows over the rim, his thumb tracing absent-minded circles on the omega’s balls, and the hard tip of his tongue /pokes/ inside Chuuya.
The omega wails, fighting the urge to dart away.
He blows over the rim, his thumb tracing absent-minded circles on the omega’s balls, and the hard tip of his tongue /pokes/ inside Chuuya.
The omega wails, fighting the urge to dart away.
His grip falters.
/Something/ keeps him still, though.
It’s more than stubbornness, less than fear. It’s that curiosity again, driven by a mind-blurring lust and by Dazai’s scent making his nostrils flare.
This is it. /Finally/. This is the compromise he’s been looking for.
/Something/ keeps him still, though.
It’s more than stubbornness, less than fear. It’s that curiosity again, driven by a mind-blurring lust and by Dazai’s scent making his nostrils flare.
This is it. /Finally/. This is the compromise he’s been looking for.
The intrusion strikes the omega as /odd/, but not in a bad way. It’s definitely not /painful/, at least.
He inhales a sharp breath, lust bubbling at the pit of his stomach.
When a ‘yes, /please/’ slips past his lips, he means it.
God, he /really/ means it.
He inhales a sharp breath, lust bubbling at the pit of his stomach.
When a ‘yes, /please/’ slips past his lips, he means it.
God, he /really/ means it.
With a sigh, Chuuya leans his forehead against the shower’s wall.
His back arches to meet Dazai’s face. Craving for /more/.
Every cell in his body is leaning into Dazai, wrapped around the feeling of the alpha /in/ him — even if only /minimally/.
His back arches to meet Dazai’s face. Craving for /more/.
Every cell in his body is leaning into Dazai, wrapped around the feeling of the alpha /in/ him — even if only /minimally/.
And /all/ of that, Dazai’s hand keeping his asscheeks parted and the alpha’s fingers cupping his balls and his tongue hooked in him—
It /all/ hits Chuuya with every flex of Dazai’s tongue.
It hits him until the omega is sure his knees are going to give up under his own weight.
It /all/ hits Chuuya with every flex of Dazai’s tongue.
It hits him until the omega is sure his knees are going to give up under his own weight.
Chuuya’s eyelashes flutter.
He /thaws/ into the delicious friction of Dazai’s tongue circling inside him, pushing deeper, getting bolder with every moan that escapes the redhead’s mouth.
And /then/—
“You’re doing amazing, love,” Dazai whispers against his skin.
He /thaws/ into the delicious friction of Dazai’s tongue circling inside him, pushing deeper, getting bolder with every moan that escapes the redhead’s mouth.
And /then/—
“You’re doing amazing, love,” Dazai whispers against his skin.
He blows over Chuuya’s rim, and the omega is not sure if his head is spinning because of the sudden whiff off air, the praise or the pet name.
Maybe it’s all /three/.
Maybe it’s because nobody ever called Chuuya ‘love’ quite like this.
Maybe it’s all /three/.
Maybe it’s because nobody ever called Chuuya ‘love’ quite like this.
Or maybe it’s because Dazai is peppering his hole with kisses, licking at it before he throbs inside again, pushing /further/ — until Chuuya shivers and purrs and /sobs/.
Immediately, Dazai stops.
“Chibi…?” he asks, trying to assess the nature of Chuuya’s almost-cry.
Immediately, Dazai stops.
“Chibi…?” he asks, trying to assess the nature of Chuuya’s almost-cry.
The alpha’s voice vibrates in Chuuya’s very /bones/.
“I’m /fine/,” he murmurs, biting the inside of his cheek. “/Fuck/, I’m /more/ than fine, I…”
His voice trails off, reduced to a wanton moan, but Chuuya doesn’t care.
“I’m /fine/,” he murmurs, biting the inside of his cheek. “/Fuck/, I’m /more/ than fine, I…”
His voice trails off, reduced to a wanton moan, but Chuuya doesn’t care.
He can’t finish his sentence, not with Dazai toying with his rim, laving it with saliva, fucking him with his mouth.
And Chuuya tries to keep it in, this overflowing feeling. He puts an honest effort in it.
He attempts to stop it from slipping right between his fingers, because
And Chuuya tries to keep it in, this overflowing feeling. He puts an honest effort in it.
He attempts to stop it from slipping right between his fingers, because
he’s still not /ready/ to let go.
He keeps it in until it hurts, until the pressure of Dazai’s tongue in him makes him moan and sigh and /curl/.
But it’s also an exercise in futility and he /knows/ it.
He keeps it in until it hurts, until the pressure of Dazai’s tongue in him makes him moan and sigh and /curl/.
But it’s also an exercise in futility and he /knows/ it.
God, he /knows/ he /can’t/ keep it in forever.
He’s clinging to a fuse that is already burning.
Throwing his head back, Chuuya pushes against the alpha’s face, hips rolling, trying to keep up with the throbbing of Dazai’s tongue.
He’s clinging to a fuse that is already burning.
Throwing his head back, Chuuya pushes against the alpha’s face, hips rolling, trying to keep up with the throbbing of Dazai’s tongue.
Hard teeth — just the ghost of them — graze his tender flesh.
Almost /in response/ Chuuya rubs his dick, biting his bottom lip. A tinge of desperation leads his fingertips, wrinkled by the humidity in the bathroom.
He hisses when Dazai blows inside him, damming the smooth
Almost /in response/ Chuuya rubs his dick, biting his bottom lip. A tinge of desperation leads his fingertips, wrinkled by the humidity in the bathroom.
He hisses when Dazai blows inside him, damming the smooth
tiles and the lack of anything to grasp, to hold on to.
He cusses again, and whispers Dazai’s name as if afraid of /ruining/ it.
And, as Dazai’s tongue opens him up, as Chuuya /feels/ slick run down his legs and understands that he’s /so/ ready to let himself go, he realizes—
He cusses again, and whispers Dazai’s name as if afraid of /ruining/ it.
And, as Dazai’s tongue opens him up, as Chuuya /feels/ slick run down his legs and understands that he’s /so/ ready to let himself go, he realizes—
He realizes he’s going to cum to Dazai’s mouth alone.
He realizes he’s a little bit more in love than he was yesterday, and that he owes Dazai /more/ than he ever imagined.
And Chuuya let Dazai have him — all he’s ready to /give/, for now — because the alpha /never/ asked.
He realizes he’s a little bit more in love than he was yesterday, and that he owes Dazai /more/ than he ever imagined.
And Chuuya let Dazai have him — all he’s ready to /give/, for now — because the alpha /never/ asked.
“Fuck,” the omega grunts, shivering, shaken to the core. “I—”
He gasps, cold air burning his lungs as the orgasm coaxes a yelp out of him.
All of a sudden he’s exhausted and emptied and /happy/.
The high feels like breathing underwater, like filling his lungs with fresh air.
He gasps, cold air burning his lungs as the orgasm coaxes a yelp out of him.
All of a sudden he’s exhausted and emptied and /happy/.
The high feels like breathing underwater, like filling his lungs with fresh air.
It feels like touching the ground after an eternity tossed in the wind.
And, as the wave comes crushing over him, as he cums with Dazai’s name on the tip of his tongue and the bruises left by the alpha’s fingers on his asscheek, Chuuya realizes two things.
And, as the wave comes crushing over him, as he cums with Dazai’s name on the tip of his tongue and the bruises left by the alpha’s fingers on his asscheek, Chuuya realizes two things.
One, he owes himself to try again — to give sex, his body, another go.
He’s not /broken/.
He wasted so much time thinking he was damaged, when he’s just a /different/ kind of omega all along.
Two: before today, he was untethered. Unreachable, a scrap of paper lost in the wind
He’s not /broken/.
He wasted so much time thinking he was damaged, when he’s just a /different/ kind of omega all along.
Two: before today, he was untethered. Unreachable, a scrap of paper lost in the wind
And now— /now/, as Dazai playfully bites Chuuya’s butt and tenderly murmurs that he’ll get them both cleaned up, the omega finds himself thinking that he doesn’t mind belonging to the earth.
/To someone/.
Before today, he had nobody. He was just a piece of paper with no one
/To someone/.
Before today, he had nobody. He was just a piece of paper with no one
securing him to the ground.
But Dazai—
Dazai grounds him.
Chuuya is not lost, untethered, thrown away. He’s home.
Breathing in, basking in /his/ alpha’s presence, Chuuya makes peace with how lonely he used to feel.
But it’s ok, he tells himself.
He’s not alone anymore.
—
But Dazai—
Dazai grounds him.
Chuuya is not lost, untethered, thrown away. He’s home.
Breathing in, basking in /his/ alpha’s presence, Chuuya makes peace with how lonely he used to feel.
But it’s ok, he tells himself.
He’s not alone anymore.
—
“Hey, Ryu.”
Akutagawa looks up from his soy latte, meeting his boyfriend’s big eyes.
God.
They are /stunning/, Atsushi’s eyes.
Just like his snow-white hair, like his cinnamon-spicy scent and that courageous kindness he shows to everyone, the omega’s eyes are unique.
Akutagawa looks up from his soy latte, meeting his boyfriend’s big eyes.
God.
They are /stunning/, Atsushi’s eyes.
Just like his snow-white hair, like his cinnamon-spicy scent and that courageous kindness he shows to everyone, the omega’s eyes are unique.
After /years/ together, Akutagawa still can’t get used to how /bright/ they are.
Like shards of glass, like drops of sunlight.
When asked what first caught his attention in that little omega that moved next door so many years before, Akutagawa has no doubt.
The /eyes/.
Like shards of glass, like drops of sunlight.
When asked what first caught his attention in that little omega that moved next door so many years before, Akutagawa has no doubt.
The /eyes/.
The way they catch the light, how the irises verge on green under the sun and how they turn almost /purple/ when it’s cloudy—
there’s pure magic, in Atsushi’s eyes.
And the omega’s fingers are so /warm/ as he holds Akutagawa’s hand.
there’s pure magic, in Atsushi’s eyes.
And the omega’s fingers are so /warm/ as he holds Akutagawa’s hand.
His steps are timid but steady — a contrast that is characteristic of Atsushi, and one that Akutagawa /admires/ in secret — as they walk down the crowded streets, navigating through the mess that is Tokyo on a weekend.
Now you may ask, why would Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, a wise
Now you may ask, why would Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, a wise
young man, hate himself enough to crawl all the way to Tokyo?
The city is a /mess/.
It’s loud, with trains that smell like sweat from the rush hour. Plus he can’t take /one/ step without spending money he doesn’t have.
Even worse, there are /people/ outside.
(Ew, people.)
The city is a /mess/.
It’s loud, with trains that smell like sweat from the rush hour. Plus he can’t take /one/ step without spending money he doesn’t have.
Even worse, there are /people/ outside.
(Ew, people.)
Well, Atsushi wanted to stop by a new pop-up store, which coincidentally just opened in a popular dating spot in Ginza.
And /ok/, maybe pastel stores and dating spots aren’t exactly Akutagawa’s speed, but—
But who is he to deny Atsushi anything?
(Read: he couldn’t say no.
And /ok/, maybe pastel stores and dating spots aren’t exactly Akutagawa’s speed, but—
But who is he to deny Atsushi anything?
(Read: he couldn’t say no.
He would never say no.)
So they left Diablo with Gin for the day and hopped on a train.
And will karma bite him in the ass for going to a cute shop with a signed Malice Mizer t-shirt, a half-finished soy latte and a general hatred for humanity? Probably.
But all this—
So they left Diablo with Gin for the day and hopped on a train.
And will karma bite him in the ass for going to a cute shop with a signed Malice Mizer t-shirt, a half-finished soy latte and a general hatred for humanity? Probably.
But all this—
All /this/ effort is justified just by the happiness-inducing, peace-infusing feeling of walking hand-in-hand with his boyfriend, together in the sunlight.
/However/, Akutagawa has a reputation to uphold, too.
He’d choke before admitting out loud that he has a tender side,
/However/, Akutagawa has a reputation to uphold, too.
He’d choke before admitting out loud that he has a tender side,
and that Atsushi’s /eyes/ make his heart skip a beat, and—
“/Ryuu/?”
// And he just forgot to answer, didn’t he? //
The omega tilts his head, nudging Atsushi to go on.
“Hm?”
“Is it just me or Chuuya looks happier lately?”
Ah.
Right.
It’s best-friends-gossip time, huh?
“/Ryuu/?”
// And he just forgot to answer, didn’t he? //
The omega tilts his head, nudging Atsushi to go on.
“Hm?”
“Is it just me or Chuuya looks happier lately?”
Ah.
Right.
It’s best-friends-gossip time, huh?
The omega hmms, trying to be as non-committal as possible.
Chuuya has definitely been happier, in the past week.
But, to be honest, Ryuunosuke /wasn’t/ looking forward to this discussion.
He wasn’t looking forward to asking himself why Chuuya opened the shop /humming/ to an
Chuuya has definitely been happier, in the past week.
But, to be honest, Ryuunosuke /wasn’t/ looking forward to this discussion.
He wasn’t looking forward to asking himself why Chuuya opened the shop /humming/ to an
Ed Sheeran’s tune like an idiot.
He didn’t want to ask himself why Chuuya always smelled like mint and alpha.
He didn’t want to consider the possibility of his best friend being in love with someone like /Dazai/, the worst clown who ever clowned in the big circus that is life.
He didn’t want to ask himself why Chuuya always smelled like mint and alpha.
He didn’t want to consider the possibility of his best friend being in love with someone like /Dazai/, the worst clown who ever clowned in the big circus that is life.
And God, one afternoon he /definitely/ didn’t want to /know/—
//“Ne, ne, you don’t talk enough, Baby Vampire~”
“Yeah, and you talk too much. Why don’t you choke on your tongue?”
“I /like/ that tongue,” Chuuya had hummed too himself.
//
/That/ was too much information.
//“Ne, ne, you don’t talk enough, Baby Vampire~”
“Yeah, and you talk too much. Why don’t you choke on your tongue?”
“I /like/ that tongue,” Chuuya had hummed too himself.
//
/That/ was too much information.
Akutagawa drew the shameless flirting line at that, as he suspects he’ll be scarred for life.
For Atsushi it’s easy: he doesn’t have to /work/ with the two idiots cooing at each other every afternoon.
But here they are, /talking/ about it, and he knows for a /fact/ that
For Atsushi it’s easy: he doesn’t have to /work/ with the two idiots cooing at each other every afternoon.
But here they are, /talking/ about it, and he knows for a /fact/ that
Atsushi won’t give up until he’s satisfied.
“I think Dazai makes him happy,” Akutagawa allows, although reluctantly.
Atsushi squeezes his hand with a smile. Tiny dimples open at the corners of his mouth.
“Ryuu, that’s sweet of you.”
He scowls.
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“I think Dazai makes him happy,” Akutagawa allows, although reluctantly.
Atsushi squeezes his hand with a smile. Tiny dimples open at the corners of his mouth.
“Ryuu, that’s sweet of you.”
He scowls.
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
If Atsushi had a pair of cat ears on top of his head, they would be bending down in disappointment.
His steps slow down.
“Oh,” he says.
He risks bumping into a girl walking in the other direction, too occupied looking at Akutagawa with a protruding bottom lip and puppy eyes.
His steps slow down.
“Oh,” he says.
He risks bumping into a girl walking in the other direction, too occupied looking at Akutagawa with a protruding bottom lip and puppy eyes.
The other omega scoffs, interlacing their fingers tighter.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s true.”
“How?”
“Chuuya’s /always/ happy, at the beginning.” Akutagawa’s lips linger over the plastic lid of his soy latte, trying to measure his words. “That’s when shit goes down.”
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s true.”
“How?”
“Chuuya’s /always/ happy, at the beginning.” Akutagawa’s lips linger over the plastic lid of his soy latte, trying to measure his words. “That’s when shit goes down.”
“So you don’t trust Chuuya,” Atsushi says. His eyebrows furrow.
He pouts and he is /so/ cute, Akutagawa’s heartbeat stutters.
Still, there’s only one reply to that, and Atsushi won’t like it.
“Nup.”
Atsushi’s jaw /drops/.
“Woah— Are you sure you’re his friend?”
He pouts and he is /so/ cute, Akutagawa’s heartbeat stutters.
Still, there’s only one reply to that, and Atsushi won’t like it.
“Nup.”
Atsushi’s jaw /drops/.
“Woah— Are you sure you’re his friend?”
He deadpans.
“It’s exactly because I’m his friend that I know Chuuya has the same flair for trash of a raccoon.”
“But, maybe…”
/Maybe this time will be different./
Or maybe it won’t.
Akutagawa sighs. “I /know/, ‘Sushi. Trust me. I was there most of the times.”
“It’s exactly because I’m his friend that I know Chuuya has the same flair for trash of a raccoon.”
“But, maybe…”
/Maybe this time will be different./
Or maybe it won’t.
Akutagawa sighs. “I /know/, ‘Sushi. Trust me. I was there most of the times.”
He and Chuuya have been friends for a while. They’ve worked together for a while.
And Akutagawa has been there for the loves, the heartbreaks, the “I-told-you-so”.
Kouyou always looked after her little brother, but Akutagawa always tried to give Chuuya a /reality check/.
And Akutagawa has been there for the loves, the heartbreaks, the “I-told-you-so”.
Kouyou always looked after her little brother, but Akutagawa always tried to give Chuuya a /reality check/.
He’s not mean because he /likes/ it.
(Well, /he does/, but that’s another story.)
He’s mean because he cares about Chuuya.
He cares for the omega, his ridiculous fixation with work and his nonexistent self esteem and his heart that has been broken one too many times.
(Well, /he does/, but that’s another story.)
He’s mean because he cares about Chuuya.
He cares for the omega, his ridiculous fixation with work and his nonexistent self esteem and his heart that has been broken one too many times.
And Chuuya might have Mercury retrograde engraved in his /brain/ because he can be dense and heedless and an absolute mess, but Akutagawa cares about him.
And that’s what friends are for: to tell you the things you don’t want to hear.
Looking at the road ahead, swiftly
And that’s what friends are for: to tell you the things you don’t want to hear.
Looking at the road ahead, swiftly
Tugging Akutagawa toward a quiet alley away from the main road.
‘This way,’ the omega hums, and Akutagawa follows because he /trusts/ Atsushi’s instincts. He’s like a cat, when it comes to finding roads.
Akutagawa grins. “An alley? Are you trying to murder me, ‘Sushi?”
‘This way,’ the omega hums, and Akutagawa follows because he /trusts/ Atsushi’s instincts. He’s like a cat, when it comes to finding roads.
Akutagawa grins. “An alley? Are you trying to murder me, ‘Sushi?”
“Very funny. It’s faster this way— it was on the map.”
“Ah. I don’t remember.”
“Of course you don’t, dear,” Atsushi says. But he’s /smiling/, even though he rolls his eyes. “That’s what I’m saying, though — maybe we are not noticing the /right/ things with Chuuya, too.”
“Ah. I don’t remember.”
“Of course you don’t, dear,” Atsushi says. But he’s /smiling/, even though he rolls his eyes. “That’s what I’m saying, though — maybe we are not noticing the /right/ things with Chuuya, too.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe, but…?”
Akutagawa grimaces. See? Atsushi gets him too well.
It’s /annoying/, in that way that warms his chest; in that way that forces Akutagawa to believe in true mates.
(And who the hell cares if they are both omegas.)
“But this thing gives me bad vibes.”
“Maybe, but…?”
Akutagawa grimaces. See? Atsushi gets him too well.
It’s /annoying/, in that way that warms his chest; in that way that forces Akutagawa to believe in true mates.
(And who the hell cares if they are both omegas.)
“But this thing gives me bad vibes.”
“I /know/…” Atsushi’s voice trails off.
He focuses on the /street/ ahead, avoiding his boyfriend’s glare.
Akutagawa’s eyes narrow.
The silence of the street shrouds them, only bringing echoes from the traffic raging on the Main Street.
And Akutagawa might let the matter
He focuses on the /street/ ahead, avoiding his boyfriend’s glare.
Akutagawa’s eyes narrow.
The silence of the street shrouds them, only bringing echoes from the traffic raging on the Main Street.
And Akutagawa might let the matter
go, he /could/, but he won’t. Not before Atsushi admits that he’s worried, too.
“Yes?”
“We’re almost there,” Atsushi says, looking away.
Akutagawa snorts.
“That’s not what I was asking.”
“Yup. I’m ignoring you.”
“You’re a little stubborn creature, you know that?”
“Yes?”
“We’re almost there,” Atsushi says, looking away.
Akutagawa snorts.
“That’s not what I was asking.”
“Yup. I’m ignoring you.”
“You’re a little stubborn creature, you know that?”
Atsushi shakes his head in lieu of an answer, a smile crossing his face. Now his eyes are a brighter yellow, lambent in the light.
The shop /is/ close, Akutagawa has to give Atsushi that.
They end up in a sun-soaked road, all whitewashed bricks and western-style buildings.
The shop /is/ close, Akutagawa has to give Atsushi that.
They end up in a sun-soaked road, all whitewashed bricks and western-style buildings.
A few doors ahead, between a Paris-inspired café and a door leading to a basement, the omega can see the shop’s tag and the small crowd in front of the door.
He briefly catches a ghost of red hair, darker than Chuuya’s, before looking away.
He briefly catches a ghost of red hair, darker than Chuuya’s, before looking away.
He takes in the clean walls, freshly painted, and the date-for-high-schoolers aura of the shop. Its tall windows are filled with plushies, cushions and pastel mugs.
The whole street looks /lovely/— if you like Disneyland.
To Akutagawa, the effect seems claustrophobic. Fake.
The whole street looks /lovely/— if you like Disneyland.
To Akutagawa, the effect seems claustrophobic. Fake.
He sneezes, surprised by the sudden light, and Atsushi /titters/.
His tender smile is spiced up by a hint of mirth.
But the boy also never lets go of his hand, unafraid of what people might think, and Akutagawa is /grateful/ for that.
His tender smile is spiced up by a hint of mirth.
But the boy also never lets go of his hand, unafraid of what people might think, and Akutagawa is /grateful/ for that.
He always feels a little less out of place, with Atsushi by his side.
Akutagawa clicks his tongue, slowing down.
“‘Sushi, wait. Just…”
He just wants to finish talking before the subjects fades under a waterfall of plushies and things they don’t really need.
Akutagawa clicks his tongue, slowing down.
“‘Sushi, wait. Just…”
He just wants to finish talking before the subjects fades under a waterfall of plushies and things they don’t really need.
Atsushi’s eyebrows jump up. He slows down, too.
“Just?”
“Just admit this thing going on with Chuuya has a weird vibe.”
Atsushi’s shoulders /sag/, and Akutagawa knows he’s /right/.
“Well, I /might/ have thought about that.”
//Bingo.//
“Hm-m?” Akutagawa encourages him.
“Just?”
“Just admit this thing going on with Chuuya has a weird vibe.”
Atsushi’s shoulders /sag/, and Akutagawa knows he’s /right/.
“Well, I /might/ have thought about that.”
//Bingo.//
“Hm-m?” Akutagawa encourages him.
“Dazai looks… fragile.”
That’s an understatement.
If most alphas are well-rooted, solid, Dazai is the opposite. He’s made of water — murky, quiet water. And water easily drags people like Chuuya down.
“Yeah,” Akutagawa nods. “And he looks like he doesn’t care…”
//At all.//
That’s an understatement.
If most alphas are well-rooted, solid, Dazai is the opposite. He’s made of water — murky, quiet water. And water easily drags people like Chuuya down.
“Yeah,” Akutagawa nods. “And he looks like he doesn’t care…”
//At all.//
Like he doesn’t care at all, Akutagawa meant to say.
Which is wrong, apparently, because a well-known voice chimes in the street, higher than the general chattering.
Suddenly, Akutagawa’s eyes jump back to the redhead in the crowd.
“Odasaku, that’s /mean/! Of course I care~”
Which is wrong, apparently, because a well-known voice chimes in the street, higher than the general chattering.
Suddenly, Akutagawa’s eyes jump back to the redhead in the crowd.
“Odasaku, that’s /mean/! Of course I care~”
Akutagawa stops on his tracks.
“Is that Dazai?” he hears Atsushi ask.
He doesn’t reply.
Because, /yes/. That’s fucking Dazai.
Akutagawa eyes grow wide, and he /swears/ Atsushi might be trying to stop his circulation for how hard he’s clasping his hand.
“Is that Dazai?” he hears Atsushi ask.
He doesn’t reply.
Because, /yes/. That’s fucking Dazai.
Akutagawa eyes grow wide, and he /swears/ Atsushi might be trying to stop his circulation for how hard he’s clasping his hand.
The crowd shuffles, and he notices how /Dazai/ is holding onto the man’s arm.
And the way he /laughs/— God, the way Dazai laughs is /different/, too.
“Oi, ‘Sushi.” He stares at the scene, frozen on the spot. “Isn’t…”
“Isn’t Dazai always saying he doesn’t have any friends?”
And the way he /laughs/— God, the way Dazai laughs is /different/, too.
“Oi, ‘Sushi.” He stares at the scene, frozen on the spot. “Isn’t…”
“Isn’t Dazai always saying he doesn’t have any friends?”
“All the time,” Akutagawa says.
His own voice seems to reach him from far away, though, almost another reality.
He swallows dry. His free hand clenches in a fist, and he begs his eyes to look away but he /can’t/.
The cogs in his brain run franctically, telling him to take a
His own voice seems to reach him from far away, though, almost another reality.
He swallows dry. His free hand clenches in a fist, and he begs his eyes to look away but he /can’t/.
The cogs in his brain run franctically, telling him to take a
picture — to collect /evidence/ for when he’ll have to talk to Chuuya.
Atsushi is fumbling with his phone, unsure.
“Should we go say hi?” Atsushi offers, in a thin voice.
“Hell no.”
“We should ask…”
But there’s nothing to /ask/. There’s no jumping to conclusions.
Atsushi is fumbling with his phone, unsure.
“Should we go say hi?” Atsushi offers, in a thin voice.
“Hell no.”
“We should ask…”
But there’s nothing to /ask/. There’s no jumping to conclusions.
There’s Dazai snuggling on a redhead that is not Chuuya, /laughing/ out loud.
And Akutagawa doesn’t /want/ to catch Dazai’s carefree tone and the way he’s clinging to the taller man, but the alpha’s voice is so. Damn. Loud.
// “It’s just for fun,” Dazai is saying. “Right?” //
And Akutagawa doesn’t /want/ to catch Dazai’s carefree tone and the way he’s clinging to the taller man, but the alpha’s voice is so. Damn. Loud.
// “It’s just for fun,” Dazai is saying. “Right?” //
/Just for *fun*./
It sinks in Akutagawa’s marrow, in his very /bones/.
They’re too far away so he can’t sense the redhead’s scent, and the /doubt/ is killing him.
//“We should go inside already.”
“Don’t be /boring/, Odasaku.”
“Don’t you have to be home soon?”
“Yes, yes~”//
It sinks in Akutagawa’s marrow, in his very /bones/.
They’re too far away so he can’t sense the redhead’s scent, and the /doubt/ is killing him.
//“We should go inside already.”
“Don’t be /boring/, Odasaku.”
“Don’t you have to be home soon?”
“Yes, yes~”//
The words echo in Akutagawa’s brain as he watches the pair disappear into the shop, Dazai latched to the other man’s arm.
Atsushi fell silent next to him, too.
Just. For. Fun.
And then it /hits/ Akutagawa. It catches him like a slap in the face, and his blood begins to boil.
Atsushi fell silent next to him, too.
Just. For. Fun.
And then it /hits/ Akutagawa. It catches him like a slap in the face, and his blood begins to boil.
It’s /odd/, how he’s ready to barge in the shop and how he’d rather do anything /but/ that.
It takes the omega a second to realize that the growl he’s been hearing comes from /him/.
“I’m going to /break/ this fucker’s face,” he hisses.
It takes the omega a second to realize that the growl he’s been hearing comes from /him/.
“I’m going to /break/ this fucker’s face,” he hisses.
“/Wait/,” Atsushi calls, holding on to the boy’s hand. “Wait. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”
“Like /what/!?”
He didn’t /mean/ to raise his voice with Atsushi, that’s really not fair of him, but his boyfriend is /far/ from the type who’ll let him bully him into silence.
“Like /what/!?”
He didn’t /mean/ to raise his voice with Atsushi, that’s really not fair of him, but his boyfriend is /far/ from the type who’ll let him bully him into silence.
“I don’t know, a cousin! A friend he forgot to mention!” Atsushi replies. It’s said with his full lungs, and he doesn’t need to scream to drive the point home.
“Who the hell is that familiar with a damn friend!?”
“I don’t /know/, Ryuu. Honestly? I have /no/ idea.”
“Then—”
“Who the hell is that familiar with a damn friend!?”
“I don’t /know/, Ryuu. Honestly? I have /no/ idea.”
“Then—”
“/But/ let’s talk to Chuuya first, ok?” Atsushi interrupts him, pulling him away from the shop. His eyes are pleading, but he doesn’t believe his words either.
He /can’t/ believe them. “Unless you feel calm enough to go in and face Dazai without causing a scene.”
He /can’t/ believe them. “Unless you feel calm enough to go in and face Dazai without causing a scene.”
Akutagawa bares his teeth, uncovering tiny fangs. “I won’t cause a scene if I’m stealthy when I stab him.”
“Ryuu! You don’t like Dazai! You just said that.”
“Yeah, and so /what/!?”
“/And/ that might have been anything.”
/Anything/.
Sure.
“Ryuu! You don’t like Dazai! You just said that.”
“Yeah, and so /what/!?”
“/And/ that might have been anything.”
/Anything/.
Sure.
But Chuuya is not the regular omega, and— hell, Dazai wouldn’t be the first one to go behind his back.
He was /right/.
That only proves his instinct didn’t fail him.
And the sun is a little colder, knowing that.
Because — again — Akutagawa is not mean because he likes to.
He was /right/.
That only proves his instinct didn’t fail him.
And the sun is a little colder, knowing that.
Because — again — Akutagawa is not mean because he likes to.
He’s mean because people will always fail him if he’s not careful.
With blood /rushing/ in his temples, Akutagawa stretches his arm in the direction of the shop. A few curious heads turn to glance at them, but hell if he cares.
“Atsushi, I’m— you /saw/ that!”
With blood /rushing/ in his temples, Akutagawa stretches his arm in the direction of the shop. A few curious heads turn to glance at them, but hell if he cares.
“Atsushi, I’m— you /saw/ that!”
“We don’t /know/ what we saw just now,” Atsushi says. His voice /cracks/. “I just know that I don’t feel like shopping anymore. Let’s go somewhere else.”
// Somewhere quiet. //
And Akutagawa is /thankful/, because he can feel a headache mounting at the back of his nape.
// Somewhere quiet. //
And Akutagawa is /thankful/, because he can feel a headache mounting at the back of his nape.
He also has a hunch Atsushi might hate that shop, now.
Such a pity, the omega finds himself thinking. ‘Sushi really seemed excited about that one.
He guesses it’s just another reason to be mad at Dazai.
Such a pity, the omega finds himself thinking. ‘Sushi really seemed excited about that one.
He guesses it’s just another reason to be mad at Dazai.
Later, once he and Atsushi have settled in a cafe — they haven’t really talked, both /shook/ — Akutagawa can’t say he’s surprised by the text he receives.
Where’s Dazai?, he asked.
And he /did/ hope in a good answer.
But—
From: Chuuya
// Library. Exams start soon 💀
// Why??
Where’s Dazai?, he asked.
And he /did/ hope in a good answer.
But—
From: Chuuya
// Library. Exams start soon 💀
// Why??
The omega inhales a sharp breath.
‘We don’t know what we saw,’ Atsushi said.
But Akutagawa… he’s seen it before. As he looks at Atsushi in front of him, sipping a hot chocolate with a somber expression, Akutagawa thinks he would like to know.
‘We don’t know what we saw,’ Atsushi said.
But Akutagawa… he’s seen it before. As he looks at Atsushi in front of him, sipping a hot chocolate with a somber expression, Akutagawa thinks he would like to know.
If Atsushi was lying to him, he’d rather know.
Because Dazai is not at the library.
Because Dazai looked at someone else like he should have looked at Chuuya.
Because Dazai lies.
Because he has the image of Dazai throwing his back to laugh etched on his eyelids.
Because Dazai is not at the library.
Because Dazai looked at someone else like he should have looked at Chuuya.
Because Dazai lies.
Because he has the image of Dazai throwing his back to laugh etched on his eyelids.
The same two sentences keep haunting him, over and over and over.
//It’s just for fun.//
// At the library. Why? //
He’s /so/ going to punch Dazai in the face.
But, first, he’s not going to play a part in this. It’s not fair.
To: Chuuya
// We need to talk.
//It’s just for fun.//
// At the library. Why? //
He’s /so/ going to punch Dazai in the face.
But, first, he’s not going to play a part in this. It’s not fair.
To: Chuuya
// We need to talk.
( TW mentions of suicide )
Dazai wanted to die.
As far back as his memory went, unraveling in a scarlet path of shame and regret, he always wanted to die.
He wanted to scream, to disappear — to expose the stripped, bloodied bones of the vulgar pantomime people called life.
Dazai wanted to die.
As far back as his memory went, unraveling in a scarlet path of shame and regret, he always wanted to die.
He wanted to scream, to disappear — to expose the stripped, bloodied bones of the vulgar pantomime people called life.
His parents found the easy way out of it, they did.
They found a way /out/, and they left him /behind/.
No matter how hard he tried, his heart kept beating in his temples; every heartbeat felt like a clock ticking.
// And the wound festered. //
They found a way /out/, and they left him /behind/.
No matter how hard he tried, his heart kept beating in his temples; every heartbeat felt like a clock ticking.
// And the wound festered. //
So Dazai searched.
He searched for an emergency exit out of a game he never asked to play.
How /odd/, he used to think, that the quest for the best way to embrace death kept him anchored to the world.
But now, most days, Dazai doesn’t long for death anymore
He’s /smitten/.
He searched for an emergency exit out of a game he never asked to play.
How /odd/, he used to think, that the quest for the best way to embrace death kept him anchored to the world.
But now, most days, Dazai doesn’t long for death anymore
He’s /smitten/.
He never thought love would make him feel alive, yet here he is — with a big smile pulling at his lips and a couple of whiskey glasses warming his stomach.
Here he /stands/ in front of the newly open ‘Neon Sheep’, with its cute designs and Internet-inspired stuffed animals.
Here he /stands/ in front of the newly open ‘Neon Sheep’, with its cute designs and Internet-inspired stuffed animals.
He actually asked Odasaku to /check/ for the opening hours, that’s how invested the alpha is in this mission.
And part of Dazai thinks he’s acting a bit ridiculous, but /so what?/
He has Chuuya engraved in his heart — the omega lives in his /DNA/.
And part of Dazai thinks he’s acting a bit ridiculous, but /so what?/
He has Chuuya engraved in his heart — the omega lives in his /DNA/.
The way Chuuya whispers his first name, how he moans it and prays to it, how he /purrs/ it while falling asleep— it never fails to be both a source of sweet pain and grueling joy for Dazai.
The responsibility of this newborn, precious feeling /weighs/ on him.
The responsibility of this newborn, precious feeling /weighs/ on him.
Now, this sense of impending doom isn’t new to Dazai.
He /knows/ that the life of the worthless student — his life — is naturally meant to swing between torments and mundane, transient joys.
But, as he studies through the night to top Ranpo’s results or when he rings Mori to
He /knows/ that the life of the worthless student — his life — is naturally meant to swing between torments and mundane, transient joys.
But, as he studies through the night to top Ranpo’s results or when he rings Mori to
inform him of the nightmares caused by an half-empty bank account — even though he only pays half the rent now —, Chuuya is there.
He makes him stronger just by /existing/.
And his demons seem a little less persistent, the swings less wild, ever since Chuuya moved in.
He makes him stronger just by /existing/.
And his demons seem a little less persistent, the swings less wild, ever since Chuuya moved in.
Maybe he’s an egoist.
Maybe it’s not right to want someone as bright as Chuuya when he can’t even be transparent about his past.
But— but Dazai loves him too much to let go.
He’ll cling, cling, /cling/ to the knowledge that Chuuya…
Chuuya makes him feel /human/.
Maybe it’s not right to want someone as bright as Chuuya when he can’t even be transparent about his past.
But— but Dazai loves him too much to let go.
He’ll cling, cling, /cling/ to the knowledge that Chuuya…
Chuuya makes him feel /human/.
That’s why he’s with Odasaku, waiting to enter a shop that smells like candy floss and with shelves filled with toys and cute merch.
The ‘Neon Sheep’ is new, well-lighted.
It opened in Ginza on a bright weekend, and it popped up on Dazai’s ‘Gram feed with the /perfect/ adv.
The ‘Neon Sheep’ is new, well-lighted.
It opened in Ginza on a bright weekend, and it popped up on Dazai’s ‘Gram feed with the /perfect/ adv.
The alpha planned to spend the day at Lupin anyway, so he collected his half-empty wallet and his best friend, and queued with a bunch of high-schoolers to collect the /perfect present/.
He even /lied/ to make sure Chuuya wouldn’t ask to tag along and spoil the surprise.
He even /lied/ to make sure Chuuya wouldn’t ask to tag along and spoil the surprise.
(In his defense, Dazai is /far/ from a crime genius, yet the Chibi immediately believed him.
Plus it’s just a little white lie, it doesn’t count as bad.)
“Remind me again what we are doing here?” Odasaku asks, side-eyeing him.
Dazai smiles.
“I’m looking for something.”
Plus it’s just a little white lie, it doesn’t count as bad.)
“Remind me again what we are doing here?” Odasaku asks, side-eyeing him.
Dazai smiles.
“I’m looking for something.”
For a long moment, Oda doesn’t comment.
He lets his gaze wander to the Neon Sheep’s clientele waiting to be allowed in — mostly girls dragging bored-looking boyfriends — and, then, to the inside of the shop.
He frowns ever so slightly. Dazai can only distinguish a flash of
He lets his gaze wander to the Neon Sheep’s clientele waiting to be allowed in — mostly girls dragging bored-looking boyfriends — and, then, to the inside of the shop.
He frowns ever so slightly. Dazai can only distinguish a flash of
amusement because he knows Odasaku like the back of his hands.
“Do you have a younger girlfriend I know nothing about? Don’t you care about your boyfriend?”
Odasaku’s jokes are cryptic at best, always uttered with a straight face, but they usually mean he’s in a good mood.
“Do you have a younger girlfriend I know nothing about? Don’t you care about your boyfriend?”
Odasaku’s jokes are cryptic at best, always uttered with a straight face, but they usually mean he’s in a good mood.
Immediately, Dazai throws back his head and explodes in a laughter.
“That’s mean, Odasaku! Of course I care!” He flashes the man what should be a /secretive/ grin and adds, lower: “It’s for Chuuya. Don’t tell Ango I have a heart, please.”
“For Chuuya. /Here/.”
“Why not?”
“That’s mean, Odasaku! Of course I care!” He flashes the man what should be a /secretive/ grin and adds, lower: “It’s for Chuuya. Don’t tell Ango I have a heart, please.”
“For Chuuya. /Here/.”
“Why not?”
Odasaku hmms.
“It doesn’t really fit his description,” he says.
It’s not an accusation, yet Dazai feels a blush creep up his bandaged neck.
Before he can stop himself, the alpha is already twirling one strand of dark hair around his index in /embarrassment/.
“It doesn’t really fit his description,” he says.
It’s not an accusation, yet Dazai feels a blush creep up his bandaged neck.
Before he can stop himself, the alpha is already twirling one strand of dark hair around his index in /embarrassment/.
“Well. I saw a thing that would mean— something, for us. Like an inner joke.”
Odasaku squints.
“You do realize this is not a sexy shop and they sell your usual /things/ elsewhere, right?”
“/Odasaku/!”
Odasaku squints.
“You do realize this is not a sexy shop and they sell your usual /things/ elsewhere, right?”
“/Odasaku/!”
Odasaku’s closes in his shoulders, but the corners of his lips twist up in the flash of a smile.
Dazai shakes his head, forcing himself to /not/ think about the things he could get Chuuya in a sexy shop. They /will/ get to that point.
But today…
Today it’s for something else
Dazai shakes his head, forcing himself to /not/ think about the things he could get Chuuya in a sexy shop. They /will/ get to that point.
But today…
Today it’s for something else
But he still /needs/ Odasaku to reassure him. That’s why he asked the omega to come with him: to have someone that would reassure him.
“Ne, Odasaku?”
Oda glances at him. It’s almost /fun/ how he has to glance down to look at Dazai, as if time between them never passed.
“Ne, Odasaku?”
Oda glances at him. It’s almost /fun/ how he has to glance down to look at Dazai, as if time between them never passed.
Like they’re still the lost child and the young man he wished were his brother.
“Hm…?”
“Do you think Chuuya will get freaked out if I buy him a present for his nest?”
Oda’s eyes widen. “Why should he?”
“Because it’s his nest? Isn’t that supposed to be private?”
“Hm…?”
“Do you think Chuuya will get freaked out if I buy him a present for his nest?”
Oda’s eyes widen. “Why should he?”
“Because it’s his nest? Isn’t that supposed to be private?”
“Yes.” Odasaku ponders for a moment. “That’s also something an omega would /want/ to share with their partner.”
Dazai twists his nose, pressing himself next to the omega’s side.
He doesn’t mind being close to Oda, especially when the crowd is making him feel /claustrophobic/.
Dazai twists his nose, pressing himself next to the omega’s side.
He doesn’t mind being close to Oda, especially when the crowd is making him feel /claustrophobic/.
And maybe this is the reason behind his second thoughts — being /here/, fearing he’s going a bit /too fast/.
“So I’m not intruding.”
“I don’t know about /that/. It’s personal, and I’m not in your boyfriend’s head.”
/Hell/, Dazai finds himself thinking, /thank god you’re not./
“So I’m not intruding.”
“I don’t know about /that/. It’s personal, and I’m not in your boyfriend’s head.”
/Hell/, Dazai finds himself thinking, /thank god you’re not./
He sighs, glancing at the door.
“What I mean is… would I be cooler if I acted like a dick? People like that kind of guy.”
Oda’s eyebrows furrow so /close/, they almost touch.
“Why should anybody pretend to be a bad person?”
“What I mean is… would I be cooler if I acted like a dick? People like that kind of guy.”
Oda’s eyebrows furrow so /close/, they almost touch.
“Why should anybody pretend to be a bad person?”
“So I don’t freak out the Chibi by /caring/, and he doesn’t go chibi-ing away from me!”
“Are you /serious/?”
God, is /he/ serious? He doesn’t know.
All Dazai knows is that Chuuya /does/ struggle with trust in relationships. He /does/ feel cornered easily.
“Are you /serious/?”
God, is /he/ serious? He doesn’t know.
All Dazai knows is that Chuuya /does/ struggle with trust in relationships. He /does/ feel cornered easily.
And, well… Dazai /has/ a tendency to overthink and manipulate his own interpretation of reality. He knows, rationally, that all the bad thoughts and worst case scenarios are overtaking his head.
They make him fear /things/ he would never consider at any other time.
They make him fear /things/ he would never consider at any other time.
It’s always like that. Once Dazai sets his mind on something, a dark corner of his brain tries to take over, engulfing any shard of light.
And now that he committed himself to being /good/ for Chuuya, to be /everything/ the omega needs—
He fears it will /backfire/ instead.
And now that he committed himself to being /good/ for Chuuya, to be /everything/ the omega needs—
He fears it will /backfire/ instead.
The alpha tries to swallow, searching for the words that escape him.
“Honest opinion: is the present a lame move?”
“Why?” Odasaku echoes, brows furrowed. “Did you change your mind?”
“No. I’m asking because… I’m not like this,” he clarifies, even though his
“Honest opinion: is the present a lame move?”
“Why?” Odasaku echoes, brows furrowed. “Did you change your mind?”
“No. I’m asking because… I’m not like this,” he clarifies, even though his
oldest friend surely /remembers/ it. “I’m not used to going home to the boy I /love/ with a surprise. Hell, you know how I am. I don’t care. Everything is /fun/. It doesn’t mean anything.”
// Normally.
Now, though, it’s different. //
He doesn’t have to say it out loud.
// Normally.
Now, though, it’s different. //
He doesn’t have to say it out loud.
The sentence still lingers between them, unsaid yet soaring over the chatting of the crows, setting like dust between them.
“But…?”
“But there’s nothing funny in how much I’m feeling. And I’m not used to it.”
“Feeling is good,” Oda replies, not an ounce of hesitation in him.
“But…?”
“But there’s nothing funny in how much I’m feeling. And I’m not used to it.”
“Feeling is good,” Oda replies, not an ounce of hesitation in him.
Mechanically, Dazai twists his nose.
No.
Hell, no.
Feeling is a curse.
Feeling after hoping his brain would get euthanized from any impulse out of the blind, safe animal instinct is /horrible/.
For a moment, Dazai prays the gods to let them into the damn shop already.
No.
Hell, no.
Feeling is a curse.
Feeling after hoping his brain would get euthanized from any impulse out of the blind, safe animal instinct is /horrible/.
For a moment, Dazai prays the gods to let them into the damn shop already.
He can’t /fish/ for the right words no matter how hard he’s trying, no matter how /much/ he needs to let them out.
To the alpha’s surprise, though, his prayers seem to be /accepted/. The queue proceeds, and the crowd slowly disappears in the Neon Sheep.
A pretty hostess in a
To the alpha’s surprise, though, his prayers seem to be /accepted/. The queue proceeds, and the crowd slowly disappears in the Neon Sheep.
A pretty hostess in a
pastel green uniform bows her head and invites them in with a smile.
Only Odasaku mutters a ‘thank you’.
(When Dazai considers asking her on a double suicide, Chuuya’s eyes flash in his mind.
Ah, he thinks.
That’s /boring/, having a Chibikko living in his mind rent free.)
Only Odasaku mutters a ‘thank you’.
(When Dazai considers asking her on a double suicide, Chuuya’s eyes flash in his mind.
Ah, he thinks.
That’s /boring/, having a Chibikko living in his mind rent free.)
Unlike their Instagram’s suggestion, the Neon Sheep is tiny, only fitting so many people inside at the same time. Light soaks the store through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but the space itself makes a cupboard look roomy.
Despite the fake advertising, Dazai /prefers/ it.
Despite the fake advertising, Dazai /prefers/ it.
He’d rather not involve himself in a cat-fight with /children/ over a stuffed toy.
And it’s not that he can’t outsmart a bunch of teenagers in their own habitat, but that would be a waste of his big brain.
They are marvelously out of place, him and Oda, as they stroll around.
And it’s not that he can’t outsmart a bunch of teenagers in their own habitat, but that would be a waste of his big brain.
They are marvelously out of place, him and Oda, as they stroll around.
The scent of candy floss, which Dazai can’t quite /place/ but that reminds him of his first girlfriend in middle school, makes his head spin. It’s harsh enough to trigger a headache.
And yes, maybe the Neon Sheep kind of /sucks/. They keep bumping into other customers, and the
And yes, maybe the Neon Sheep kind of /sucks/. They keep bumping into other customers, and the
music throbs from the speakers and Dazai wants to /get out/ of this gender-coded fairytale as soon as possible, but he has a /mission/.
Oda must feel the same way, because he doesn’t ask him to slow down.
They barely look at anything, eyes straight ahead.
Oda must feel the same way, because he doesn’t ask him to slow down.
They barely look at anything, eyes straight ahead.
Only a few pink mugs covered in glitter catch Oda’s eyes, earning a distracted second glance and nothing more.
Dazai briefly wonders if the omega will buy one of them for Sakura — his little cousin — but Odasaku doesn’t /stop/ for them and Dazai is low key glad he didn’t.
Dazai briefly wonders if the omega will buy one of them for Sakura — his little cousin — but Odasaku doesn’t /stop/ for them and Dazai is low key glad he didn’t.
Oda sighs, quietly walking through the narrow aisles.
“Dazai?” he calls.
The alpha has learned to /distinguish/ that particular tone; a question he won’t like.
“Yeah?”
“What are you really /afraid/ of? Because I’m sure no one would think you’re lame for a /gift/.”
“Dazai?” he calls.
The alpha has learned to /distinguish/ that particular tone; a question he won’t like.
“Yeah?”
“What are you really /afraid/ of? Because I’m sure no one would think you’re lame for a /gift/.”
// What are you hiding? //
And, see—
Dazai /hates/ when Oda calls him out, ripping his masks away.
He rakes a hand through his hair.
“Honestly? Feelings sucks.”
And, even while he says that, he can distinguish a tinge of obvious warmth in his own words.
And, see—
Dazai /hates/ when Oda calls him out, ripping his masks away.
He rakes a hand through his hair.
“Honestly? Feelings sucks.”
And, even while he says that, he can distinguish a tinge of obvious warmth in his own words.
Feeling is a chore, and it makes him happy and worried and /confused/. So yeah, it sucks.
Oda scoffs a laughter. “Ok?”
“And with Chuuya— we live together. I /like/ living with him. I don’t want…”
// I don’t want to ruin this. //
“You’re afraid you two are rushing things.”
Oda scoffs a laughter. “Ok?”
“And with Chuuya— we live together. I /like/ living with him. I don’t want…”
// I don’t want to ruin this. //
“You’re afraid you two are rushing things.”
“I wouldn’t say rush.” The alpha taps his index finger on his chin, thoughtfully. “Actually, /I’m/ fine with rushing. Chuuya can become my bonded mate tomorrow, as far as I’m concerned.”
/I don’t wish to live long/, he thinks. /I can’t. So I want him while I’m still here./
/I don’t wish to live long/, he thinks. /I can’t. So I want him while I’m still here./
But, if there’s something that he learned, is that it’s better to keep these thoughts to himself.
Odasaku waits, dark blue eyes scanning Dazai’s face, trying to dole out what’s going on in the brunet’s head.
And it’s a /murky/, /tangled/ mass of monsters, Dazai’s head.
Odasaku waits, dark blue eyes scanning Dazai’s face, trying to dole out what’s going on in the brunet’s head.
And it’s a /murky/, /tangled/ mass of monsters, Dazai’s head.
That’s why he’s always grateful when Oda doesn’t shy away from them.
The alpha sighs. “But /that/ is all me. I was serious when I said I didn’t want to scare Chuuya. I don’t want to /pressure/ him.”
The light in the shop flickers as he closes his eyes, and breathes /deeply/.
The alpha sighs. “But /that/ is all me. I was serious when I said I didn’t want to scare Chuuya. I don’t want to /pressure/ him.”
The light in the shop flickers as he closes his eyes, and breathes /deeply/.
//Too many people already pressured him into something.//
“And I don’t want to risk leaving him if one day my brain decides to fuck with me,” he adds.
// I don’t want to be just another failure. //
“You’ll stay.” Oda tilts his head. “If it’s worth it, you’re going to stay.”
“And I don’t want to risk leaving him if one day my brain decides to fuck with me,” he adds.
// I don’t want to be just another failure. //
“You’ll stay.” Oda tilts his head. “If it’s worth it, you’re going to stay.”
“Am I?” Dazai volleys back.
// We both know I’m not strong. //
“Dazai…”
“I /want/ to stay,” he clarifies. “But /will/ I?”
A somber smile finds it ways to his lips.
He did worse. He left old partners in the night without a text, without a word.
// We both know I’m not strong. //
“Dazai…”
“I /want/ to stay,” he clarifies. “But /will/ I?”
A somber smile finds it ways to his lips.
He did worse. He left old partners in the night without a text, without a word.
He can be mean without meaning to, because he tries and sometimes he /fails/.
And when he feels like the morning when he met Chuuya, as he dangled from the ledge of a bridge— sometimes the darkness /under/ his feet is less scary than the darkness /inside/ his head.
And when he feels like the morning when he met Chuuya, as he dangled from the ledge of a bridge— sometimes the darkness /under/ his feet is less scary than the darkness /inside/ his head.
“You should give yourself more credit.”
“I don’t deserve it,” Dazai says — and /believes/ it.
On the other hand, there are so many things Chuuya is discovering through their relationship.
To the point Dazai fears he’s trying to force them onto the omega all at the same time
“I don’t deserve it,” Dazai says — and /believes/ it.
On the other hand, there are so many things Chuuya is discovering through their relationship.
To the point Dazai fears he’s trying to force them onto the omega all at the same time
just to give himself a reason to reappraise life. To make himself part of the process.
To prove that his human hands, his fingers spasmodically grasping smoke, /are/ capable of building something.
No, Dazai doesn’t fear that he’s rushing: it’s the direction that scares him.
To prove that his human hands, his fingers spasmodically grasping smoke, /are/ capable of building something.
No, Dazai doesn’t fear that he’s rushing: it’s the direction that scares him.
He fears that he’s running against a /wall/ — dragging Chuuya with him.
And he fears that he will let go just before the crash — the /inevitable/ crash.
“Don’t you have something helpful to say to a desperate man?” Dazai nudges, arching an eyebrow at his friend’s silence.
And he fears that he will let go just before the crash — the /inevitable/ crash.
“Don’t you have something helpful to say to a desperate man?” Dazai nudges, arching an eyebrow at his friend’s silence.
Odasaku shurgs. The tugs his hands in his trousers pockets, almost a /giant/ hunched among the Neon Sheep’s aisles and colorful merch.
He’s tall, a full grown man, and Dazai finds himself thinking that he looks so much /older/ than the shop — not aesthetically, but /mentally/.
He’s tall, a full grown man, and Dazai finds himself thinking that he looks so much /older/ than the shop — not aesthetically, but /mentally/.
“You’re hardly desperate. But this is uncharacteristically /deep/ of you.”
A laughter lodges itself in Dazai’s throat.
“Are you calling me shallow, Odasaku?”
“I’m saying it’s the first time you deal with your emotions like a grown-up.”
The alpha flashes him a cocky grin.
A laughter lodges itself in Dazai’s throat.
“Are you calling me shallow, Odasaku?”
“I’m saying it’s the first time you deal with your emotions like a grown-up.”
The alpha flashes him a cocky grin.
“It’s because I’m really in love.”
“…”
“/What/?”
“I can /see/ that,” Odasaku murmurs. Dazai’s lips part in /bewilderment/, but Oda nods. “Your eyes seem lighter, Dazai. You say feelings suck, but they suit you.”
It’s /colorless/, almost detached, but also full of meaning.
“…”
“/What/?”
“I can /see/ that,” Odasaku murmurs. Dazai’s lips part in /bewilderment/, but Oda nods. “Your eyes seem lighter, Dazai. You say feelings suck, but they suit you.”
It’s /colorless/, almost detached, but also full of meaning.
And Dazai—
“Oh— here it is!” he chimes.
His serious expressions switches to a high-pitched, boyish enthusiasm as if someone flipped a switch.
And oversized, bright yellow chick plushie stares at them from a shelf, beady black eyes fixed on Dazai.
// Here you are. //
“Oh— here it is!” he chimes.
His serious expressions switches to a high-pitched, boyish enthusiasm as if someone flipped a switch.
And oversized, bright yellow chick plushie stares at them from a shelf, beady black eyes fixed on Dazai.
// Here you are. //
The yellow of the chick’s fabric reminds him of Chuuya’s apron at the coffeeshop.
Steadily, he leaves Oda’s side to make a beeline for the toy.
In the process, he shoots a murderous glare to a little girl that seemed to be walking towards the same shelf.
(Odasaku /chuckles/.)
Steadily, he leaves Oda’s side to make a beeline for the toy.
In the process, he shoots a murderous glare to a little girl that seemed to be walking towards the same shelf.
(Odasaku /chuckles/.)
Now, Chuuya’s nest stands as a perfect example of minimalism. In other words, the redhead /refuses/ to give away the tiniest sign of his second gender.
However…
However, as he gently holds the toy, fingers sinking in the soft fabric, Dazai has a hunch Chuuya /will/ like it.
However…
However, as he gently holds the toy, fingers sinking in the soft fabric, Dazai has a hunch Chuuya /will/ like it.
Even better, the chick is almost as big as his entire chest — covering from Dazai’s chin to his middle — which means it’s probably as /tall/ as the Chibi.
(Ok, maybe he’s exaggerating.)
The thought makes Dazai smile from behind the plushie, nuzzling his nose in the fabric.
(Ok, maybe he’s exaggerating.)
The thought makes Dazai smile from behind the plushie, nuzzling his nose in the fabric.
It smells /new/.
Just like that, the previous subject is brushed away, safely hidden under the rug of Dazai’s mind with the other demons.
( // That’s how /real/ you are, Dazai.//)
He’s still afraid.
He’s still unsure.
But talking about it— it /consumes/ his batteries.
Just like that, the previous subject is brushed away, safely hidden under the rug of Dazai’s mind with the other demons.
( // That’s how /real/ you are, Dazai.//)
He’s still afraid.
He’s still unsure.
But talking about it— it /consumes/ his batteries.
// Good lord, Dazai, you’re a coward. Such a fucking pity.// )
Oda’s voice almost arrives at his ears /muffled/ by the thoughts as the omega asks:
“What’s that?”
Turning on his heels, Dazai proudly holds the plushie in his arms.
Oda’s voice almost arrives at his ears /muffled/ by the thoughts as the omega asks:
“What’s that?”
Turning on his heels, Dazai proudly holds the plushie in his arms.
He presses it to his body as if he’s holding on to a token representing his /relationship/.
And… how to explain?
It’s /them/, and the first idiot thing they shared.
It’s a joke Chuuya calls ‘stupid’ fighting off a smirk.
(Classic Chibi.
Ah, to live with a tsundere.)
And… how to explain?
It’s /them/, and the first idiot thing they shared.
It’s a joke Chuuya calls ‘stupid’ fighting off a smirk.
(Classic Chibi.
Ah, to live with a tsundere.)
It’s all the things Dazai can’t say yet.
It means, ‘I’m serious.’
He seriously wanted the omega in his life — friend, roommate, anything.
He’s seriously trying. That’s what it is.
It means, ‘I’m /seriously/ in love with you.’
“Is it too much?” he asks right back, instead.
It means, ‘I’m serious.’
He seriously wanted the omega in his life — friend, roommate, anything.
He’s seriously trying. That’s what it is.
It means, ‘I’m /seriously/ in love with you.’
“Is it too much?” he asks right back, instead.
Oda’s brow furrows, and the alpha is pretty sure he can hear the cogs in his mind running.
“Dazai.”
“Hmm.”
“It’s a stuffed toy.”
Ah, he can see that.
Just a childish plushie he saw on the internet and rushed to get for his boyfriend’s nest like a total maniac.
“Dazai.”
“Hmm.”
“It’s a stuffed toy.”
Ah, he can see that.
Just a childish plushie he saw on the internet and rushed to get for his boyfriend’s nest like a total maniac.
Dazai scowls, bottom lip jutting out.
“I /know/. But…”
“I don’t understand. How can that be too much? Do you plan on hiding a /ring/ inside?”
“What!? Not /yet/!”
The omega /gawks/ at him, eyes wide for a moment. His jaw relaxes, lips parted in confusion.
// Not /yet/. //
“I /know/. But…”
“I don’t understand. How can that be too much? Do you plan on hiding a /ring/ inside?”
“What!? Not /yet/!”
The omega /gawks/ at him, eyes wide for a moment. His jaw relaxes, lips parted in confusion.
// Not /yet/. //
He /waits/ for Oda’s comment. And waits. And /waits/.
Eventually, Dazai grins from behind the plushie.
“I’m joking, by the way.”
He can /see/ the omega’s chest heaving up and down, emptying with a silent sigh.
“Ok.”
“I am /not/ planning a marriage anytime soon,” he says.
Eventually, Dazai grins from behind the plushie.
“I’m joking, by the way.”
He can /see/ the omega’s chest heaving up and down, emptying with a silent sigh.
“Ok.”
“I am /not/ planning a marriage anytime soon,” he says.
“Then you’re fine. It’s just a toy.” Oda arches a single eyebrow. “A not particularly pretty one, either.”
Dazai clutches the cuddly, soft fabric closer to his chest, almost shielding it in his arms.
“Hey! It’s very pretty.”
Oda shrugs the comment away.
“That’s debatable.”
Dazai clutches the cuddly, soft fabric closer to his chest, almost shielding it in his arms.
“Hey! It’s very pretty.”
Oda shrugs the comment away.
“That’s debatable.”
“Boo~ It’s /objectively/ pretty.”
“If you say so,” Odasaku says, rolling his eyes. But he also grins, and a sudden warmth passes over Dazai. “Will Ango and I ever meet this famous Chuuya, by the way?”
The alpha smiles to himself, hugging the plushie tight.
/ Soon, right? /
“If you say so,” Odasaku says, rolling his eyes. But he also grins, and a sudden warmth passes over Dazai. “Will Ango and I ever meet this famous Chuuya, by the way?”
The alpha smiles to himself, hugging the plushie tight.
/ Soon, right? /
“Of course you will,” he hums, voice /soft/. “But you and Chuuya both mean a lot to me, Odasaku. I’m waiting for the perfect moment.”
/Yes, it has to be perfect.
He wants it to be nothing but perfect./
—
There’s nothing perfect in Chuuya’s weekend, so far.
/Yes, it has to be perfect.
He wants it to be nothing but perfect./
—
There’s nothing perfect in Chuuya’s weekend, so far.
He’s /done/.
He’s tired.
He’s been telling himself that he’s done for a while now.
His life is ridiculous. And the fact that /Ryuu/ has the guts to text him even when he’s /off/ is just—
“Shit,” Chuuya cusses to his reflection, staring at his red eyes in the mirror.
He’s tired.
He’s been telling himself that he’s done for a while now.
His life is ridiculous. And the fact that /Ryuu/ has the guts to text him even when he’s /off/ is just—
“Shit,” Chuuya cusses to his reflection, staring at his red eyes in the mirror.
That morning, the omega sneaked out of bed at five.
He damned the alarm as he landed a kiss on the tousled mass of Dazai’s hair. He let him sleep, and went out.
He worked, pretended to care about Fitzgerald’s new tacky Rolex, went grocery shopping and— and he is /drained/.
He damned the alarm as he landed a kiss on the tousled mass of Dazai’s hair. He let him sleep, and went out.
He worked, pretended to care about Fitzgerald’s new tacky Rolex, went grocery shopping and— and he is /drained/.
In the mirror, Chuuya checks out the blood-shot eyes of someone who doesn’t sleep nearly /enough/.
Their blue is /dull/, like dull and vaguely grey-ish is his skin.
God, he /needs/ a facial with Kouyou.
And now, instead of flopping on the couch like he’d deserve,
Their blue is /dull/, like dull and vaguely grey-ish is his skin.
God, he /needs/ a facial with Kouyou.
And now, instead of flopping on the couch like he’d deserve,
Chuuya is rushing to Akutagawa’s because Ryuu is /unable/ to measure his tone when texting.
And because—
Well.
Because that text /worried/ him sick.
Flitting around and barely getting to see Dazai at /all/ wasn’t exactly in his to-do-list, but not much he can do about that.
And because—
Well.
Because that text /worried/ him sick.
Flitting around and barely getting to see Dazai at /all/ wasn’t exactly in his to-do-list, but not much he can do about that.
The omega is tying up his hair in a ponytail, a black hair tie pinched in between his lips while he pulls the heavy mass of his hair up, when he hears the clack of the key.
The door opens with a distinctive creak, followed by the shuffle of shoes in the genkan.
The door opens with a distinctive creak, followed by the shuffle of shoes in the genkan.
Chuuya finds himself /smiling/.
Something that pressed on his stomach, likely the tiredness of a full week of double shifts, thaws.
He knows to expect more noises from the living room, then a sigh, and the familiar wail of a /tired/ Dazai and…
“Chibiiii~”
/ Here you go. /
Something that pressed on his stomach, likely the tiredness of a full week of double shifts, thaws.
He knows to expect more noises from the living room, then a sigh, and the familiar wail of a /tired/ Dazai and…
“Chibiiii~”
/ Here you go. /
“In the bathroom,” Chuuya calls, loud enough to make sure Dazai hears him, casting a glance at the door.
He barely has the time to tie his hair and quickly wash his face before the alpha shows up.
In a day of bad luck, at least he /gets/ to see his boyfriend for five minutes.
He barely has the time to tie his hair and quickly wash his face before the alpha shows up.
In a day of bad luck, at least he /gets/ to see his boyfriend for five minutes.
Crossing paths at home is still better than nothing, right?
It feels a bit roommate-y, but whatever.
At least, Chuuya supposed, he gets to /enjoy/ the sight of Dazai’s silhouette leaning against the bathroom’s threshold, arms crossed and a vague blush as if he rushed home.
It feels a bit roommate-y, but whatever.
At least, Chuuya supposed, he gets to /enjoy/ the sight of Dazai’s silhouette leaning against the bathroom’s threshold, arms crossed and a vague blush as if he rushed home.
“I didn’t know you had plans, Chibi,” is the first thing he says.
Automatically, Chuuya scrunches up his nose.
“Yeah. Me neither.”
“Where are you going?”
“Ryuu said he has something to talk about.” Chuuya tilts his head, a scowl narrowing his eyes. “It seemed urgent.”
Automatically, Chuuya scrunches up his nose.
“Yeah. Me neither.”
“Where are you going?”
“Ryuu said he has something to talk about.” Chuuya tilts his head, a scowl narrowing his eyes. “It seemed urgent.”
Dazai’s expression turns dark.
His shoulders straight up at the news, one of the subtle signs that the alpha is /really/ listening.
“Oh. I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Yeah.”
“Something with Atsushi?”
Chuuya shrugs.
“He didn’t say.” Ah, but… “He asked if you were around.”
His shoulders straight up at the news, one of the subtle signs that the alpha is /really/ listening.
“Oh. I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Yeah.”
“Something with Atsushi?”
Chuuya shrugs.
“He didn’t say.” Ah, but… “He asked if you were around.”
“Should I come with you? For moral support?”
As the omega closes their distance, he thinks that— /wow/.
How /perfect/ can Dazai be?
“Thanks, but I think I can manage.” He raises on his tippy toes, lips quickly meeting Dazai’s mouth halfway in a peck. “How was the library?”
As the omega closes their distance, he thinks that— /wow/.
How /perfect/ can Dazai be?
“Thanks, but I think I can manage.” He raises on his tippy toes, lips quickly meeting Dazai’s mouth halfway in a peck. “How was the library?”
Dazai’s smile softens. He drapes his lanky arms around Chuuya, wrapping him in a hug.
He must be tired too, the redhead thinks.
“Lonely and boring,” Dazai murmurs, pressing a kiss against Chuuya’s ear. “But I grabbed something for you on the way.”
Chuuya’s heart /hiccups/.
He must be tired too, the redhead thinks.
“Lonely and boring,” Dazai murmurs, pressing a kiss against Chuuya’s ear. “But I grabbed something for you on the way.”
Chuuya’s heart /hiccups/.
“Oh?”
“It’s in the living room ,” Dazai hums, his voice sending shivers down Chuuya’s spine. “Wanna see it before you leave for Baby Transylvania?”
Chuuya snorts.
The vampire jokes might be /growing/ on him.
(He’ll never tell Ryuu, though.)
“Sure,” he says — and he
“It’s in the living room ,” Dazai hums, his voice sending shivers down Chuuya’s spine. “Wanna see it before you leave for Baby Transylvania?”
Chuuya snorts.
The vampire jokes might be /growing/ on him.
(He’ll never tell Ryuu, though.)
“Sure,” he says — and he
chuckles, and lets Dazai eagerly guide him out of the room. The alpha’s fingers are gentle as they pull at his wrist, careful and /enthusiastic/ at the same time.
In that grip, Chuuya feels light for the first time in the day.
Now, he expected to find a new bottle of wine.
In that grip, Chuuya feels light for the first time in the day.
Now, he expected to find a new bottle of wine.
A book, even. Hell, even pastries from his favorite French place down the street.
He certainly didn’t expect—
Dazai lets go of Chuuya’s wrist, stepping aside to let him space. To let him time to drink in the /yellow/ toy in front of him.
One, two, three seconds.
He certainly didn’t expect—
Dazai lets go of Chuuya’s wrist, stepping aside to let him space. To let him time to drink in the /yellow/ toy in front of him.
One, two, three seconds.
And he /remembers/.
It’s impossible not to.
The train station, the burning sunset, how /desperate/ Dazai seemed at the idea of losing him;m — a stranger.
How Dazai said he didn’t care about second genders.
How Chuuya almost gave up on a once-in-a-lifetime ticket to /this/.
It’s impossible not to.
The train station, the burning sunset, how /desperate/ Dazai seemed at the idea of losing him;m — a stranger.
How Dazai said he didn’t care about second genders.
How Chuuya almost gave up on a once-in-a-lifetime ticket to /this/.
// From: Dazai
I’m always serious when I use 🐥//
Surprise cracks across the omega’s face, blue eyes turning /wider/ as they jump from his boyfriend to the stuffed toy sitting on their couch.
“It’s a chick plushie,” Dazai supplies, clearing his voice. It still comes out
I’m always serious when I use 🐥//
Surprise cracks across the omega’s face, blue eyes turning /wider/ as they jump from his boyfriend to the stuffed toy sitting on their couch.
“It’s a chick plushie,” Dazai supplies, clearing his voice. It still comes out
vaguely strangled.
As if Chuuya doesn’t have /eyes/.
Besides, the plushie is big enough to take almost half of the couch alone, so it would be a pretty hard one to miss.
The yellow shines /bright/ against the black leather, looking all the softer and cuddly.
And—
As if Chuuya doesn’t have /eyes/.
Besides, the plushie is big enough to take almost half of the couch alone, so it would be a pretty hard one to miss.
The yellow shines /bright/ against the black leather, looking all the softer and cuddly.
And—
“Because of the joke?,” Dazai adds. He’s clearly speaking just to fill the silence, to exorcise his feelings, hands fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt. “It’s for your nest.”
/And/ Chuuya can’t take it in any /longer/, this smile stubbornly making its way across his face.
/And/ Chuuya can’t take it in any /longer/, this smile stubbornly making its way across his face.
“Are you for real?” he murmurs, affection woven in his voice.
“I know it’s /cheesy/, but…”
“I love it,” Chuuya interrupts. He glances at the brunet — he has to tilt his chin up to meet Dazai’s gaze and, for once, he doesn’t mind the height gap. “I love /you/.”
Dazai beams.
“I know it’s /cheesy/, but…”
“I love it,” Chuuya interrupts. He glances at the brunet — he has to tilt his chin up to meet Dazai’s gaze and, for once, he doesn’t mind the height gap. “I love /you/.”
Dazai beams.
It’s as if someone kindled a light in the back of the alpha’s eyes, as if a stone has rolled away from his body.
“Do you like it?”
Yes, he could say. It would be so easy.
But the truth is, Chuuya’s never been /communicative./
It takes him just one second to answer, though.
“Do you like it?”
Yes, he could say. It would be so easy.
But the truth is, Chuuya’s never been /communicative./
It takes him just one second to answer, though.
It takes just one second for Chuuya to turn, to reach for Dazai.
To /grasp/ the brunet’s shirt and pull him down in a kiss that means ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’ and ‘I missed you.’
Because Chuuya /needs/ to feel him under his hands — to bask in that warmth that remains so
To /grasp/ the brunet’s shirt and pull him down in a kiss that means ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’ and ‘I missed you.’
Because Chuuya /needs/ to feel him under his hands — to bask in that warmth that remains so
characteristic of the alpha even when his eyes turn cold.
It’s a kiss of /gratitude/, in a way.
It’s slow, and it’s deep and it’s full of /meaning/. Chuuya leans against his boyfriend’s chest, craning his neck to get /closer/ even if there’s no distance to fill.
It’s a kiss of /gratitude/, in a way.
It’s slow, and it’s deep and it’s full of /meaning/. Chuuya leans against his boyfriend’s chest, craning his neck to get /closer/ even if there’s no distance to fill.
“Thank you, ‘Samu,” he whispers, this time against Dazai’s mouth. He murmurs it in between kisses, again and again until he’s /sure/ he made his point.
Because, before Dazai, his used to be a world of one.
Chuuya never /enjoyed/ it, but he accepted it as a truth set in stone.
Because, before Dazai, his used to be a world of one.
Chuuya never /enjoyed/ it, but he accepted it as a truth set in stone.
And now, side-glancing at the plushie, getting lost in Dazai and his honey-like eyes and in how the brunet’s personality /fills/ the house they share—
Chuuya feels a fuzzy feeling crawling up his throat.
When he scoffs a choked-up laughter, it’s happy and moved in equal parts.
Chuuya feels a fuzzy feeling crawling up his throat.
When he scoffs a choked-up laughter, it’s happy and moved in equal parts.
If a new /tinge/ of salt — teardrops, spontaneous and barely contained — twists his scent, Chuuya hopes Dazai will gloss over it.
/ Ah, shit
He can’t cry./
Despite Chuuya’s hopes, Dazai breaks away enough to hook his index under the boy’s chin, gently making him lift his head.
/ Ah, shit
He can’t cry./
Despite Chuuya’s hopes, Dazai breaks away enough to hook his index under the boy’s chin, gently making him lift his head.
He scans the redhead’s flushed face in search for /something/, anything — for a sign of discomfort.
“Chibi…? Are you cr—“
“Shut up and come down here.”
Chuuya growls the order, the spiced scent of embarrassment taking over the room.
Dazai explodes in a soft chuckle,
“Chibi…? Are you cr—“
“Shut up and come down here.”
Chuuya growls the order, the spiced scent of embarrassment taking over the room.
Dazai explodes in a soft chuckle,
calling him ‘adorable’ in a tender voice as he captures the omega’s bottom lip.
He nibbles at it, hands tracing the elegant arc of Chuuya’s spine.
(Chuuya’s dick absolutely /doesn’t/ twitch in his pants at the praise.
No sir.)
“You really shouldn’t have, ‘Samu,” he murmurs.
He nibbles at it, hands tracing the elegant arc of Chuuya’s spine.
(Chuuya’s dick absolutely /doesn’t/ twitch in his pants at the praise.
No sir.)
“You really shouldn’t have, ‘Samu,” he murmurs.
“I wanted to,” the alpha says.
Dazai’s voice rings /honest/, open.
“Hm-m…”
“Let me spoil you, ok?”
And… well, there’s really nothing Chuuya can reply to that.
(Maybe that’s progress. Maybe he’ll open up, Chuuya finds himself thinking.
This sounds like a step forward.)
Dazai’s voice rings /honest/, open.
“Hm-m…”
“Let me spoil you, ok?”
And… well, there’s really nothing Chuuya can reply to that.
(Maybe that’s progress. Maybe he’ll open up, Chuuya finds himself thinking.
This sounds like a step forward.)
As the kisses grow more heated, the omega /thinks/ he senses the ghost of a sweet scent on Dazai — on his hands, his clothes.
It’s a gut-feeling more than anything, a suspect.
However, he mindlessly brushes it away, thinking nothing of it.
He’s tired, and Dazai has been away
It’s a gut-feeling more than anything, a suspect.
However, he mindlessly brushes it away, thinking nothing of it.
He’s tired, and Dazai has been away
studying in a public place, and he has to leave /now/—
Almost on clue, Dazai rubs the tips of their noses together.
“I /hate/ to say this, but Ryuunosuke needs you,” the alpha says.
Chuuya hmms — pulling Dazai even closer, breathing in his familiar scent.
Almost on clue, Dazai rubs the tips of their noses together.
“I /hate/ to say this, but Ryuunosuke needs you,” the alpha says.
Chuuya hmms — pulling Dazai even closer, breathing in his familiar scent.
His lips ghost over the scent glands at the base the alpha’s neck.
“Just five minutes.” He whispers. “I’ll go now.”
As promised, because he’s /such/ a good friend, Chuuya leaves the house /exactly/ ten minutes later.
He hurries out with Dazai’s kisses lingering on his
“Just five minutes.” He whispers. “I’ll go now.”
As promised, because he’s /such/ a good friend, Chuuya leaves the house /exactly/ ten minutes later.
He hurries out with Dazai’s kisses lingering on his
lips, promising he’ll thank Dazai properly later. They have to place the plushie in the nest, after all.
But the thing is, Chuuya was right from the beginning.
There is nothing perfect in his weekend.
And some things…
Some things hit when you are /vulnerable/.
—
But the thing is, Chuuya was right from the beginning.
There is nothing perfect in his weekend.
And some things…
Some things hit when you are /vulnerable/.
—
To: Chuuya
//Baby Vampire’s still alive?
To: Chuuya
//You coming back home tonight?
To: Chuuya
// I’m getting worried???
From: Chuuya
// sorry. I’m staying here tonight.
To: Chuuya
// Oh. Ok? I hope everything’s fine 😔
To: Chuuya
// Gnight (•ө•)♡
To: Chuuya
// Love you
//Baby Vampire’s still alive?
To: Chuuya
//You coming back home tonight?
To: Chuuya
// I’m getting worried???
From: Chuuya
// sorry. I’m staying here tonight.
To: Chuuya
// Oh. Ok? I hope everything’s fine 😔
To: Chuuya
// Gnight (•ө•)♡
To: Chuuya
// Love you
That night, Dazai sleeps alone.
Despite the plushie’s company, the right side of his bed is /cold/ without Chuuya snuggled up next to him.
He can’t stand his own scent.
He can’t sleep.
When he checks his phone in the morning, Chuuya hasn’t replied to any of his texts.
—
Despite the plushie’s company, the right side of his bed is /cold/ without Chuuya snuggled up next to him.
He can’t stand his own scent.
He can’t sleep.
When he checks his phone in the morning, Chuuya hasn’t replied to any of his texts.
—
“Good morning bitches and sluts!”
The wall of deaf silence that greets Dazai as he steps into the cafe is bone-shaking.
It turns the blood in his veins into ice, and his voice /dies/ into an awkward half-cough.
His cheerful smile withers, shrinking into a thin line.
The wall of deaf silence that greets Dazai as he steps into the cafe is bone-shaking.
It turns the blood in his veins into ice, and his voice /dies/ into an awkward half-cough.
His cheerful smile withers, shrinking into a thin line.
No reply.
Even worse, no /Chuuya/ barking at him to enter like a normal adult, or they’ll ‘get the reputation of being a cafe for mummies and degenerates.’
Like every afternoon, the place is almost empty.
But today—
Today it looks /gloomy/, though the sun bathes the streets.
Even worse, no /Chuuya/ barking at him to enter like a normal adult, or they’ll ‘get the reputation of being a cafe for mummies and degenerates.’
Like every afternoon, the place is almost empty.
But today—
Today it looks /gloomy/, though the sun bathes the streets.
The first person that the alpha spots is Akutagawa, standing behind the counter.
“Did someone die?” Dazai tries, because he’s an /idiot/.
Because he can’t /understand/.
In silence, Akutagawa lifts his head from the milk he’s pouring in a mug. He glares, expression hardening.
“Did someone die?” Dazai tries, because he’s an /idiot/.
Because he can’t /understand/.
In silence, Akutagawa lifts his head from the milk he’s pouring in a mug. He glares, expression hardening.
His pitch-black eyes scan Dazai’s face, and the alpha feels /weirdly/ in danger.
He has to keep himself from stepping back — and, instead, almost /stubbornly/, he moves /forward/.
Hell if he’ll be scared away by Chuuya’s loyal guard dog.
He has to keep himself from stepping back — and, instead, almost /stubbornly/, he moves /forward/.
Hell if he’ll be scared away by Chuuya’s loyal guard dog.
Holding Dazai’s stare, measuring the alpha’s every step, Akutagawa lowers the milk jar.
The silence is /suffocating/.
For a moment, Dazai prepares to duck and dodge the jar, crossed by the not-so-farfetched suspect that Akutagawa might /throw/ it at him.
(/Why/, though?)
The silence is /suffocating/.
For a moment, Dazai prepares to duck and dodge the jar, crossed by the not-so-farfetched suspect that Akutagawa might /throw/ it at him.
(/Why/, though?)
Then, Akutagawa throws a glance behind his shoulder — at the open door of the break room.
“Chuuya, call the circus,” the omega calls. “They left their clown behind.”
As Dazai catches a glimpse of red hair peeking from behind the door, his shoulders /relax/ a little.
“Chuuya, call the circus,” the omega calls. “They left their clown behind.”
As Dazai catches a glimpse of red hair peeking from behind the door, his shoulders /relax/ a little.
Well, at least Chuuya is here.
If worse comes to worst, they can still talk.
“And a vampire,” the alpha replies, unfazed. He pushes into the cafe trying to brush off the feeling of being /unwanted/. “Must be a damn interesting circus.”
Akutagawa sneers.
“What do you want?”
If worse comes to worst, they can still talk.
“And a vampire,” the alpha replies, unfazed. He pushes into the cafe trying to brush off the feeling of being /unwanted/. “Must be a damn interesting circus.”
Akutagawa sneers.
“What do you want?”
“To see my /boyfriend/?” he volleys back.
Saying that he eyes the door, ignoring Akutagawa and hoping he’ll get to walk over to the redhead and kiss him hello.
But Chuuya shakes his head before Dazai can even move.
He looks like he needs a hug, and—
/It’s so frustrating/.
Saying that he eyes the door, ignoring Akutagawa and hoping he’ll get to walk over to the redhead and kiss him hello.
But Chuuya shakes his head before Dazai can even move.
He looks like he needs a hug, and—
/It’s so frustrating/.
Dazai would love to trap the boy in his arms, shelter him, lull him, but he also has a feeling that’s not what Chuuya /wants/.
“Sorry, can you give me a second?” The omega asks, voice /flat/. “I just need to finish today’s inventory. Won’t be long.”
When Dazai nods, it’s dull.
“Sorry, can you give me a second?” The omega asks, voice /flat/. “I just need to finish today’s inventory. Won’t be long.”
When Dazai nods, it’s dull.
He can’t read Chuuya now — can’t place the saddens that opened in his eyes like a raw, open wound.
All he knows is that it wasn’t there yesterday.
“Sure, baby,” he says.
He adds the pet name hoping it’ll carry what he really means: ‘what’s wrong?’
Chuuya smiles faintly.
All he knows is that it wasn’t there yesterday.
“Sure, baby,” he says.
He adds the pet name hoping it’ll carry what he really means: ‘what’s wrong?’
Chuuya smiles faintly.
“Thanks.”
Chuuya smiles again and, again, it doesn’t reach his eyes.
And Dazai remains silent, watching the russet ponytail wave as the omega disappears, hoping for a answer.
For an explanation.
Which seems unlikely, since Akutagawa is all but baring /fangs/ at him.
Chuuya smiles again and, again, it doesn’t reach his eyes.
And Dazai remains silent, watching the russet ponytail wave as the omega disappears, hoping for a answer.
For an explanation.
Which seems unlikely, since Akutagawa is all but baring /fangs/ at him.
But the gods must have decided that they had enough /fun/ toying with him, because a voice chimes in.
It’s not Akutagawa.
Definitely, it doesn’t come from Chuuya.
“You kinda messed up,” hums a voice from a table.
Dazai almost jumps out of his skin.
It’s not Akutagawa.
Definitely, it doesn’t come from Chuuya.
“You kinda messed up,” hums a voice from a table.
Dazai almost jumps out of his skin.
He turns, taking in a white-haired figure sitting at one of the tables. He’s wearing a pastel blue sweater that clashes spectacularly with Akutagawa’s black shirt, and nursing a steaming mug of what looks like tea.
Dazai exhales.
/He’s too nervous./
“Oh. Hello, Atsushi-kun.”
Dazai exhales.
/He’s too nervous./
“Oh. Hello, Atsushi-kun.”
The omega /sinks/ deeper into his mug. He doesn’t reply. Not /immediately/, at least.
When he /does/ talk, his voice comes out as barely a whisper. “Hi.”
“Care to explain, please?”
Atsushi’s big eyes jump from him to Akutagawa, assessing the situation.
When he /does/ talk, his voice comes out as barely a whisper. “Hi.”
“Care to explain, please?”
Atsushi’s big eyes jump from him to Akutagawa, assessing the situation.
“We saw you, yesterday,” he says. “At the new shop in Ginza?”
A ripple travels down Dazai’s spine. Ok, this is /not/ what he expected.
But it shouldn’t be a major issue either, right?
(Why does it feel like it /is/?)
He frowns. “Ok, and…?”
A ripple travels down Dazai’s spine. Ok, this is /not/ what he expected.
But it shouldn’t be a major issue either, right?
(Why does it feel like it /is/?)
He frowns. “Ok, and…?”
Atsushi’s quiet eyes linger on him — they look /unsure/.
And then, it hits Dazai.
Whatever issue Akutagawa had to talk to Chuuya about, it concerned /him/ in some way. It was never about Akutagawa having some sort of problem. And his mind starts /running/.
And then, it hits Dazai.
Whatever issue Akutagawa had to talk to Chuuya about, it concerned /him/ in some way. It was never about Akutagawa having some sort of problem. And his mind starts /running/.
He leans against the counter, as relaxed as he /can/, specifically to test if Akutagawa will say /anything/.
(But his own scent— that shifted.
He can /feel/ it on his skin, on his /clothes/. Something dark and dangerous.)
“Ok, you /saw/ me. What the hell is going on?”
(But his own scent— that shifted.
He can /feel/ it on his skin, on his /clothes/. Something dark and dangerous.)
“Ok, you /saw/ me. What the hell is going on?”
The question claws its way out husky and low, reverberating in the space.
Akutagawa holds his gaze.
“Try to think,” he says.
Dazai squints.
“Enlighten me.”
“Maybe ask the guy that was with you yesterday. You seemed close.”
His eyes widen until it /hurts/.
“…Odasaku?”
Akutagawa holds his gaze.
“Try to think,” he says.
Dazai squints.
“Enlighten me.”
“Maybe ask the guy that was with you yesterday. You seemed close.”
His eyes widen until it /hurts/.
“…Odasaku?”
He stops, mouth hanging open. Wow. Is that…?
Odasaku is secured in his heart, it’s his best friend and his best kept secret.
And…
/Oh/.
“I can explain,” he says, scanning ever word /carefully/.
Pure, unguarded anger flashes across Akutagawa’s face. “/Can/ you?”
Odasaku is secured in his heart, it’s his best friend and his best kept secret.
And…
/Oh/.
“I can explain,” he says, scanning ever word /carefully/.
Pure, unguarded anger flashes across Akutagawa’s face. “/Can/ you?”
// Or is it too late?//
Dazai sighs.
“First of all, it’s none of your business.”
“Try say that again,” Akutagawa hisses. “Chuuya /likes/ you, you asshole. But I have been /here/ picking up his pieces after every break-up.” His jaw clenches. “So, yeah, it is my damn business.”
Dazai sighs.
“First of all, it’s none of your business.”
“Try say that again,” Akutagawa hisses. “Chuuya /likes/ you, you asshole. But I have been /here/ picking up his pieces after every break-up.” His jaw clenches. “So, yeah, it is my damn business.”
Dazai /halts/, retracting as if the outburst physically /punched/ him in the guts.
“W— Ok, no. This is a huge misunderstanding.”
“Isn’t it always?” Akutagawa argues back, venom laced in his voice. “Tell us you have /one/ good reason for lying to /our/ best friend.”
“W— Ok, no. This is a huge misunderstanding.”
“Isn’t it always?” Akutagawa argues back, venom laced in his voice. “Tell us you have /one/ good reason for lying to /our/ best friend.”
“Ryuu.” Atsushi calls.
The effect on Akutagawa is immediate and /soothing/.
Normally, Dazai noticed, there’s a hierarchy in every couple. Normally the alpha leads the couple, protective and a leader by nature.
(Himself?
He’s the exception to the rule.
He’s nothing.)
The effect on Akutagawa is immediate and /soothing/.
Normally, Dazai noticed, there’s a hierarchy in every couple. Normally the alpha leads the couple, protective and a leader by nature.
(Himself?
He’s the exception to the rule.
He’s nothing.)
However, it’s hard to understand who is in charge between the two omegas.
Their body language, hearts, voices and souls are blended in that well run-in engine that’s their relationship.
And Dazai knows that Atsushi is the only wall between his face and Akutagawa’s fist, now.
Their body language, hearts, voices and souls are blended in that well run-in engine that’s their relationship.
And Dazai knows that Atsushi is the only wall between his face and Akutagawa’s fist, now.
Raking a hand through his hair, the alpha sighs.
“Very well. I was with a friend, and didn’t tell Chuuya to not spoil the surprise. What’s so bad about that?”
“You seemed pretty comfortable with that friend,” Akutagawa hisses.
Dazai’s entire body /stiffens/.
“Very well. I was with a friend, and didn’t tell Chuuya to not spoil the surprise. What’s so bad about that?”
“You seemed pretty comfortable with that friend,” Akutagawa hisses.
Dazai’s entire body /stiffens/.
“Dazai,” Atsushi calls him.
It successfully stops the alpha before he can bark at Akutagawa to not /imply/ things he knows nothing about.
He breathes in and out, feeling vaguely /seasick/.
“Yeah, Atsushi. I’m listening.”
“That place is a dating spot.”
“…Is it?” he echoes
It successfully stops the alpha before he can bark at Akutagawa to not /imply/ things he knows nothing about.
He breathes in and out, feeling vaguely /seasick/.
“Yeah, Atsushi. I’m listening.”
“That place is a dating spot.”
“…Is it?” he echoes
He can’t bring himself to care. He had /no/ idea.
“And you told us you have no friends.”
“I did,” Dazai agrees. His head bobs down, almost /strengthless/. “And it’s true. Odasaku is… different. It’s complicated.”
He can /see/ Akutagawa clenching his fist around the milk jar.
“And you told us you have no friends.”
“I did,” Dazai agrees. His head bobs down, almost /strengthless/. “And it’s true. Odasaku is… different. It’s complicated.”
He can /see/ Akutagawa clenching his fist around the milk jar.
He must have heard it before, huh.
And Dazai realizes he’s not helping his case nor dissipating Akutagawa’s suspects by admitting that his relationship with Odasaku is /special/, but there’s no other way to explain it.
And, anyway, he doesn’t have to explain to /them/.
And Dazai realizes he’s not helping his case nor dissipating Akutagawa’s suspects by admitting that his relationship with Odasaku is /special/, but there’s no other way to explain it.
And, anyway, he doesn’t have to explain to /them/.
Atsushi hmms.
“You had no reason to lie.”
His shoulders hunch.
/Why/ is he even wasting time?
“I know.”
/It just comes easier./
Atsushi’s fingers trace the mug’s rim. “Chuuya said that you were alone.”
He tries to grin.
“I don’t remember using exactly those words but…”
“You had no reason to lie.”
His shoulders hunch.
/Why/ is he even wasting time?
“I know.”
/It just comes easier./
Atsushi’s fingers trace the mug’s rim. “Chuuya said that you were alone.”
He tries to grin.
“I don’t remember using exactly those words but…”
“That’s not /funny/,” Akutagawa snarls.
Dazai shrugs, waving the comment away. He knows that he was trying to light up the mood when there’s /nothing/ funny about being accused of cheating, but—
But he doesn’t really understand /how/ to react, either.
The day before, he was
Dazai shrugs, waving the comment away. He knows that he was trying to light up the mood when there’s /nothing/ funny about being accused of cheating, but—
But he doesn’t really understand /how/ to react, either.
The day before, he was
picking up a present.
Today… hell, how did he get in this situation?
“Yeah. Sorry.”
He didn’t say ‘yes, I was alone the entire time’, but he let Chuuya /believe/ it.
He might have outright lied, he doesn’t even remember — that’s how much he values truth and communication.
Today… hell, how did he get in this situation?
“Yeah. Sorry.”
He didn’t say ‘yes, I was alone the entire time’, but he let Chuuya /believe/ it.
He might have outright lied, he doesn’t even remember — that’s how much he values truth and communication.
And that’s on /him/.
Because he did nothing, but… but he can /see/ how the whole situation appears shady from outside.
Chuuya is beautiful, and smart and— yeah, right.
He’s insecure.
He’s been played over and over, and the one thing he asked Dazai was—
Honesty.
/Truth/.
Because he did nothing, but… but he can /see/ how the whole situation appears shady from outside.
Chuuya is beautiful, and smart and— yeah, right.
He’s insecure.
He’s been played over and over, and the one thing he asked Dazai was—
Honesty.
/Truth/.
Knowing what he does about Chuuya, Dazai can’t even /blame/ Akutagawa for wanting to give him a smack.
The alpha breathes in, trying to find a way out of this mental and emotional maze he got himself into.
Akutagawa is loyal and impulsive.
Atsushi is smart and kind.
The alpha breathes in, trying to find a way out of this mental and emotional maze he got himself into.
Akutagawa is loyal and impulsive.
Atsushi is smart and kind.
Chuuya might very easily be the love of his life, the kind you meet once and regret forever.
And Dazai—
He /did/ fuck up, didn’t he?
His eyes go to the staff room.
“I think Chibi’s done by now,” he says. The thing is, he doesn’t /care/ if he’s not done. “I’ll talk to him.”
And Dazai—
He /did/ fuck up, didn’t he?
His eyes go to the staff room.
“I think Chibi’s done by now,” he says. The thing is, he doesn’t /care/ if he’s not done. “I’ll talk to him.”
Usually, Dazai moves comfortably in the staff room.
Getting to know Chuuya means getting to know the place the redhead loves so much — a bargain Dazai accepted gratefully.
The staff room is /small/.
It’s packed with stuff nobody uses, and documents nobody ever looks at.
Getting to know Chuuya means getting to know the place the redhead loves so much — a bargain Dazai accepted gratefully.
The staff room is /small/.
It’s packed with stuff nobody uses, and documents nobody ever looks at.
The walls are covered in shelving units, and the only desk with an old computer that Fitzgerald refuses to change sits enclosed between two tall closets.
The old, beige kind of closets offices used between the 80s and 90s. Dazai remembered seeing them in some of the clinics
The old, beige kind of closets offices used between the 80s and 90s. Dazai remembered seeing them in some of the clinics
Mori used to bring him to. They remind Dazai of the hundred child psychologists he visited — that were /forced/ on him in the attempt to mould a troubled child into a functioning adult.
But Dazai /knows/ the space.
He moves comfortably in it, can map it when he closes his eyes.
But Dazai /knows/ the space.
He moves comfortably in it, can map it when he closes his eyes.
He made out with Chuuya in this same room more times than he can count, pressing the redhead against the shelves.
He lifted him from the floor, Chuuya’s legs laced around his hips and his arms wrapped around his neck.
He laughed against the omega’s mouth when their make out
He lifted him from the floor, Chuuya’s legs laced around his hips and his arms wrapped around his neck.
He laughed against the omega’s mouth when their make out
sessions pushed the occasional box on the ground.
Hell, he’s /fond/ of this room.
But now Chuuya’s looking at him standing in the furthest corner of the room. The most /private/, the one close to the sealed boxes of coffee beans.
Carefully, Dazai closes the door behind him.
Hell, he’s /fond/ of this room.
But now Chuuya’s looking at him standing in the furthest corner of the room. The most /private/, the one close to the sealed boxes of coffee beans.
Carefully, Dazai closes the door behind him.
Nobody allowed him to. Nobody told him he could close this door, and he’s aware that the door to the stuff room should normally be left open.
But he also doesn’t want /anyone/ to hear.
Because this is between them.
“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Dazai says.
But he also doesn’t want /anyone/ to hear.
Because this is between them.
“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Dazai says.
Someone once told him that apologies are pointless — they’re easy ways out of arguments.
Especially /his/ apologies, since he seems incapable of /meaning/ them.
(Ah. Ango told him that.)
But now—
Now, though he did nothing, he /has/ to apologize.
Especially /his/ apologies, since he seems incapable of /meaning/ them.
(Ah. Ango told him that.)
But now—
Now, though he did nothing, he /has/ to apologize.
It’s not an admission of guilt, it’s a recognition of hurting someone he cares about.
After that, the universe seems to make fun of him by moving terribly slowly — every second, every movement occupying a hundred hours.
After that, the universe seems to make fun of him by moving terribly slowly — every second, every movement occupying a hundred hours.
Chuuya looks at him, blue eyes so distant as he doles out the apology. He seems to dwell on it, to dissect the words.
Eventually, he looks up.
He smiles.
It’s /excruciating/, the moment that passes between that smile and the question.
“Do you have anything to apologize for?”
Eventually, he looks up.
He smiles.
It’s /excruciating/, the moment that passes between that smile and the question.
“Do you have anything to apologize for?”
A little hesitantly, Dazai pushes into the room.
His control over his emotions frays with every step he takes, with every inch of space that still separates him from Chuuya.
“Not in the way you think, no,” he says.
Chuuya’s smile cracks. That’s how frail it is, this mask the
His control over his emotions frays with every step he takes, with every inch of space that still separates him from Chuuya.
“Not in the way you think, no,” he says.
Chuuya’s smile cracks. That’s how frail it is, this mask the
omega is wearing.
“‘Samu—” He sighs, looking at the alpha. His voice dies out. “I’m not thinking anything.”
It sounds like ‘I don’t know anything’.
Which means he doesn’t know Dazai.
“Chibi…”
“I don’t know what Ryuu saw.” The omega frowns. “And for the record, I’m not mad.”
“‘Samu—” He sighs, looking at the alpha. His voice dies out. “I’m not thinking anything.”
It sounds like ‘I don’t know anything’.
Which means he doesn’t know Dazai.
“Chibi…”
“I don’t know what Ryuu saw.” The omega frowns. “And for the record, I’m not mad.”
Dazai’s entire body seem to melt under that reassurance.
Which is definitely naive and premature since Chuuya might be a million other things worse than /mad/, but— well, ‘not mad’ is still a decent starting point.
One Dazai can work with.
“Good,” the alpha murmurs.
Which is definitely naive and premature since Chuuya might be a million other things worse than /mad/, but— well, ‘not mad’ is still a decent starting point.
One Dazai can work with.
“Good,” the alpha murmurs.
He still doesn’t dare getting too close, but he /does/ try to take another step forward. Surprisingly, Chuuya doesn’t retreat.
“I trust Ryuu,” he clarifies. “But that doesn’t mean I trust him over /you/.”
Dazai is new, certainly newer than his best friend, but he’s important.
“I trust Ryuu,” he clarifies. “But that doesn’t mean I trust him over /you/.”
Dazai is new, certainly newer than his best friend, but he’s important.
And the alpha—
He’s secretly glad, because not many people are willing to trust him.
Some individuals radiate a comfort, a distinctive and charismatic kind of openness, that gives others no /reason/ to doubt them.
Dazai’s personality usually /disturbs/ people.
He’s secretly glad, because not many people are willing to trust him.
Some individuals radiate a comfort, a distinctive and charismatic kind of openness, that gives others no /reason/ to doubt them.
Dazai’s personality usually /disturbs/ people.
So, yes: he’s surprised Chuuya is giving him even the tiniest benefit of the doubt against his best friend of a lifetime’s word.
(He’s not used to second chances. He was never given any.)
“Thank you,” he says.
But, then, Chuuya lifts his head higher to meet Dazai’s gaze.
(He’s not used to second chances. He was never given any.)
“Thank you,” he says.
But, then, Chuuya lifts his head higher to meet Dazai’s gaze.
His bottom lip /trembles/ imperceptibly and his eyes /shine/ and he looks so /tiny/ and—
“Because this is just a shitty mess, /right/?”
And Dazai was /wrong/.
Chuuya isn’t being kind or trusting or magnanimous.
Chuuya is not being fair.
/ Chuuya’s begging him for comfort. /
“Because this is just a shitty mess, /right/?”
And Dazai was /wrong/.
Chuuya isn’t being kind or trusting or magnanimous.
Chuuya is not being fair.
/ Chuuya’s begging him for comfort. /
And all Dazai can do is try to explain, because he /won’t/ give in to that voice that sneaked in his head telling him that everything he built, everything he holds—
/That/, all of that, the good and the bad and the amendable, is lost already.
/That/, all of that, the good and the bad and the amendable, is lost already.
His brain shuffles through all the possible answers. None of them sounds /satisfying/.
“I… yes. It’s a mess.”
“Then what happened?”
Dazai closes in his shoulders, hugging his arms almost /protectively/.
“Baby V— Akutagawa misunderstood me. But I also wasn’t at the library.”
“I… yes. It’s a mess.”
“Then what happened?”
Dazai closes in his shoulders, hugging his arms almost /protectively/.
“Baby V— Akutagawa misunderstood me. But I also wasn’t at the library.”
“I see.” Chuuya scoffs a laughter. It’s so /hollow/. “Your present, yesterday. Was that a guilt present or something?”
Coldness creeps down the alpha’s spine, shaking him.
It pulls at his chest
“Chuuya,” he wheezes. “Don’t even think that for a moment.”
“Then /what/?”
Coldness creeps down the alpha’s spine, shaking him.
It pulls at his chest
“Chuuya,” he wheezes. “Don’t even think that for a moment.”
“Then /what/?”
Clamping down the urge to disappear and run for the hills, Dazai moves his weight from one foot to the other.
“So. There’s this bar in Ginza where I go where I can’t— cope with life. My best friend was there too,” he starts.
Every word fights its way back into his body, but the
“So. There’s this bar in Ginza where I go where I can’t— cope with life. My best friend was there too,” he starts.
Every word fights its way back into his body, but the
alpha forces them out anyway — syllable after syllable, sound after sound.
“His name’s Oda, by the way,” Dazai adds. His lips curl up, because he /never/ uttered out Oda’s name without a smile. “Odasaku.”
Even his scent /softens/ at the mention.
Chuuya’s eyes grow wide.
“His name’s Oda, by the way,” Dazai adds. His lips curl up, because he /never/ uttered out Oda’s name without a smile. “Odasaku.”
Even his scent /softens/ at the mention.
Chuuya’s eyes grow wide.
Then, after a moment of confusion, the redhead’s glare might /pierce/ through him.
“So you really lied.”
“I omitted things I was going to tell you.”
“That’s fucking /lying/, Dazai.”
Dazai purses his lips. That’s not /his/ definition of lying.
“I have reasons,” he says.
“So you really lied.”
“I omitted things I was going to tell you.”
“That’s fucking /lying/, Dazai.”
Dazai purses his lips. That’s not /his/ definition of lying.
“I have reasons,” he says.
Chuuya nods, blue eyes narrowing into slits as he takes in the response.
‘Bullshit’ is practically carved on his forehead.
And the issue is, this ‘bullshit’ might cost him Chuuya.
“Such as…?”
All for a damn present, hm.
All this pain because of poor timing and half-truths
‘Bullshit’ is practically carved on his forehead.
And the issue is, this ‘bullshit’ might cost him Chuuya.
“Such as…?”
All for a damn present, hm.
All this pain because of poor timing and half-truths
It might be bad luck.
It might be Mercury retrograde, as Atsushi would say, or it might be the world telling Dazai he doesn’t /deserve/ good things.
“Partially I didn’t tell you where I was going because I didn’t want you to come with me and ruin the surprise,” he says.
It might be Mercury retrograde, as Atsushi would say, or it might be the world telling Dazai he doesn’t /deserve/ good things.
“Partially I didn’t tell you where I was going because I didn’t want you to come with me and ruin the surprise,” he says.
“I went to Lupin /because/ it was close to the shop for your present.”
Chuuya nods.
Some of the tension thaws away from the omega’s shoulders.
“Why didn’t you just /tell/ me?”
“I—“
He halts.
Because truth scares Dazai.
Edulcorating and manipulating it reassures him.
Chuuya nods.
Some of the tension thaws away from the omega’s shoulders.
“Why didn’t you just /tell/ me?”
“I—“
He halts.
Because truth scares Dazai.
Edulcorating and manipulating it reassures him.
And /here/—
Here is where Akutagawa /is/ right.
He /is/ a coward to the core.
He was born a liar, and love won’t change that.
It can round his edges and guide his hand, but it can’t cure what’s already rotting.
(And, again, Dazai /agrees/ with Akutagawa.
He /is/ rotten.)
Here is where Akutagawa /is/ right.
He /is/ a coward to the core.
He was born a liar, and love won’t change that.
It can round his edges and guide his hand, but it can’t cure what’s already rotting.
(And, again, Dazai /agrees/ with Akutagawa.
He /is/ rotten.)
“Because telling you about Lupin and why I go there would mean explaining about Odasaku.” He’s glossing over Ango, but he forces himself to feed Chuuya one digestible piece of information at the time. “And I am not ready to introduce you guys yet.”
Chuuya inhales.
Chuuya inhales.
It looks like the floor has just been pulled out from under his feet. He radiates tension.
“Why?”
“Because I’m ashamed.”
Chuuya’s mouth closes, his mind jumping to the only familiar conclusion.
Dazai can /see/ it flash across the omega’s face before he asks:
“…Of me?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m ashamed.”
Chuuya’s mouth closes, his mind jumping to the only familiar conclusion.
Dazai can /see/ it flash across the omega’s face before he asks:
“…Of me?”
“No,” Dazai hurries, urgency seeping through the cracks of his voice. “God, no.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
Dazai sighs, running a hand through his hair — driving the fringe away from his eyes.
He’s not sure he’s making sense, to be fair.
“It’s— myself,” he explains.
“Then I don’t understand.”
Dazai sighs, running a hand through his hair — driving the fringe away from his eyes.
He’s not sure he’s making sense, to be fair.
“It’s— myself,” he explains.
“Odasaku was the person my adoptive father sent to fish me back from the the river when I was supposed to be in cram school.”
“…”
“He’s my family, and is unbelievably patient with me.”
As he says that Dazai looks away, guilt gripping his stomach for playing /that/ card.
“…”
“He’s my family, and is unbelievably patient with me.”
As he says that Dazai looks away, guilt gripping his stomach for playing /that/ card.
However, Chuuya doesn’t accuse him of seeking easy pity.
Chuuya doesn’t even /talk/ — not immediately.
He just straightens up and moves across the room first.
He has worry written all over his handsome face. That same, pitiless worry he showed Dazai the morning they met.
Chuuya doesn’t even /talk/ — not immediately.
He just straightens up and moves across the room first.
He has worry written all over his handsome face. That same, pitiless worry he showed Dazai the morning they met.
He closes their distance. Maybe he doesn’t /kiss/ Dazai, but he /does/ reach for his hands.
He squeezes them — his grip strong, stronger, and carrying so much /love/.
Dazai’s body goes limp under that hold.
Chuuya’s thumbs skim over the glands in the brunet’s wrists, soothing.
He squeezes them — his grip strong, stronger, and carrying so much /love/.
Dazai’s body goes limp under that hold.
Chuuya’s thumbs skim over the glands in the brunet’s wrists, soothing.
The pads of his fingers trace circular patterns over Dazai’s skin. Mindless caresses, intimate and fluttering.
They make him /hope/.
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” Chuuya says.
Dazai flashes him a smile — it’s fine, he wants to say. He’s ok, lately.
Most of the time, at least
They make him /hope/.
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” Chuuya says.
Dazai flashes him a smile — it’s fine, he wants to say. He’s ok, lately.
Most of the time, at least
“Of course you didn’t know. Telling Chuuya meant opening a door between /that/ past and /our/ present.” He forces out a grin. “I was preparing. I’m pretty jealous of our present, y’know.”
Every word has been forced out of his mouth and he feels like his chest has been pried open
Every word has been forced out of his mouth and he feels like his chest has been pried open
But Chuuya is smiling faintly, and still holding his hands like he’ll never let go.
“Me too.”
“It’s not an excuse, but I hope you understand now.”
Chuuya steps closer. They stand chest against chest.
“I do. I’m sorry we had to talk this way,” he murmurs, voice thin.
“Me too.”
“It’s not an excuse, but I hope you understand now.”
Chuuya steps closer. They stand chest against chest.
“I do. I’m sorry we had to talk this way,” he murmurs, voice thin.
Dazai shrugs.
He’s /pissed off/ at the situation, but has to admit that without Akutagawa it might have taken him /months/ of postponing this conversation.
In a way, he ripped off a band-aid.
And it /hurts/ now, but the pain will fade with time.
He’s /pissed off/ at the situation, but has to admit that without Akutagawa it might have taken him /months/ of postponing this conversation.
In a way, he ripped off a band-aid.
And it /hurts/ now, but the pain will fade with time.
“I’m sorry too,” he says. “But I really wanted to get you that present, Chibi. As much as I wanted you and Odasaku to get along.”
// I /still/ need you guys to get along. //
“We can still get along,” Chuuya promises. “I want to. Does your Oda person even know I exist?”
// I /still/ need you guys to get along. //
“We can still get along,” Chuuya promises. “I want to. Does your Oda person even know I exist?”
Not a shred of doubt in his body, Dazai nods.
He braces for a rejection when he bends over Chuuya and sinks his nose in the omega’s hair, but nothing happens.
If anything, Chuuya leans forward.
And what an /alluring/ fragrance it creates, the mix of coffee and Chuuya’s sweet
He braces for a rejection when he bends over Chuuya and sinks his nose in the omega’s hair, but nothing happens.
If anything, Chuuya leans forward.
And what an /alluring/ fragrance it creates, the mix of coffee and Chuuya’s sweet
natural scent. It fills Dazai’s head.
He finds that talking comes /easier/, with his fingers interlaced with Chuuya’s but without directly facing him.
“Odasaku knows everything about you,” he hums, inhaling the familiar scent of the redhead’s shampoo.
/Their/ shampoo.
He finds that talking comes /easier/, with his fingers interlaced with Chuuya’s but without directly facing him.
“Odasaku knows everything about you,” he hums, inhaling the familiar scent of the redhead’s shampoo.
/Their/ shampoo.
Anxiety churns in Dazai as he waits for a reply, fearing how the omega might interpret those words.
He told everything to Odasaku and not the other way around.
Under this new light he failed to consider before, he understands it might have been unfair.
/But/ Chuuya just hmms
He told everything to Odasaku and not the other way around.
Under this new light he failed to consider before, he understands it might have been unfair.
/But/ Chuuya just hmms
“/Ok/,” the omega says.
Ok. Simple as that.
The comment sounds colorless, almost detached.
Sneaking a hand out of Chuuya’s grip, Dazai cups his cheek. He nudges Chuuya to tilt his head, to meet his eyes.
They shine, so /bottomless/ and blue, and Dazai’s throat runs /dry/.
Ok. Simple as that.
The comment sounds colorless, almost detached.
Sneaking a hand out of Chuuya’s grip, Dazai cups his cheek. He nudges Chuuya to tilt his head, to meet his eyes.
They shine, so /bottomless/ and blue, and Dazai’s throat runs /dry/.
He swallows, and breathes out and emboldens himself to talk.
“/Actually/, I can’t shut up about you.”
Chuuya shoots him a crooked grin.
“Oh? /Can’t/ you?”
“Hm-m.” He caresses Chuuya’s cheek, tracing the sharp, elegant line of the omega’s cheekbone. He leans forward again,
“/Actually/, I can’t shut up about you.”
Chuuya shoots him a crooked grin.
“Oh? /Can’t/ you?”
“Hm-m.” He caresses Chuuya’s cheek, tracing the sharp, elegant line of the omega’s cheekbone. He leans forward again,
his nose brushing the tip of Chuuya’s nose.
“I am ashamed of myself, Chibi. But I am /not/ ashamed in the slightest of the person I become with you.”
/ But the anti-human I used to be, barely hanging in there—
I never want you to meet him, or to face that person again. /
“I am ashamed of myself, Chibi. But I am /not/ ashamed in the slightest of the person I become with you.”
/ But the anti-human I used to be, barely hanging in there—
I never want you to meet him, or to face that person again. /
‘Don’t say that,’ Chuuya would like to argue.
Don’t insult yourself, when you are so beautiful in so many ways.
Uncle Paul always says that running from your past turns it into a monster, and Chuuya can /see/ that Dazai has a dragon lurking behind him — one he refuses to slay.
Don’t insult yourself, when you are so beautiful in so many ways.
Uncle Paul always says that running from your past turns it into a monster, and Chuuya can /see/ that Dazai has a dragon lurking behind him — one he refuses to slay.
But Dazai—
He looks so tormented all the time, beneath that patina of play-pretend cheerfulness.
And, honestly, Chuuya has had enough for today.
He needs to /rest/, to finish this double shift and go home. He needs some good sleep.
He needs a boyfriend he can rely on.
He looks so tormented all the time, beneath that patina of play-pretend cheerfulness.
And, honestly, Chuuya has had enough for today.
He needs to /rest/, to finish this double shift and go home. He needs some good sleep.
He needs a boyfriend he can rely on.
(Chuuya decided that person — /his/ person to rely on — would be Dazai.
He’s sticking by that, now.
He’s deciding to trust him.
It may be foolish, but it’s entirely /rational/.)
So, instead of arguing, the redhead leans forward and rests his forehead against Dazai’s chest.
He’s sticking by that, now.
He’s deciding to trust him.
It may be foolish, but it’s entirely /rational/.)
So, instead of arguing, the redhead leans forward and rests his forehead against Dazai’s chest.
“Just find a damn day when I can meet this best friend,” he murmurs. “I’ll have to thank him properly for taking care of you.”
Dazai’s chuckle comes out strained.
“Chuuya talks like a mother.”
/Oh/, the redhead ponders, /he says ‘mother’ like someone who never had one./
Dazai’s chuckle comes out strained.
“Chuuya talks like a mother.”
/Oh/, the redhead ponders, /he says ‘mother’ like someone who never had one./
He always knew that Dazai was raised by a guardian — the owner of Mori Corp, a signature on the cafe’s tabs and the apartment’s bills, a number that never calls — but now it seems /painfully/ clear.
Chuuya clicks his tongue.
“Just say you /will/, smartass.”
“I promise, mum~”
Chuuya clicks his tongue.
“Just say you /will/, smartass.”
“I promise, mum~”
The omega gives Dazai a half-hearted slap on the forearm, and sighs and considers the argument resolved.
Because Dazai is /his/ person to rely on.
“Stay until I finish my shift?” he asks, almost /timidly/. “We can go somewhere after.
It takes a moment for Dazai to reply.
Because Dazai is /his/ person to rely on.
“Stay until I finish my shift?” he asks, almost /timidly/. “We can go somewhere after.
It takes a moment for Dazai to reply.
He steps away. Ever so /slowly/, he lowers the hand that was touching Chuuya’s face, but holds on to the omega’s hand.
He squeezes it, and the light in his amber eyes shines almost /grateful/ when he says:
“Of course. If it’s ok with you.”
// If you want me here. //
He squeezes it, and the light in his amber eyes shines almost /grateful/ when he says:
“Of course. If it’s ok with you.”
// If you want me here. //
Chuuya smiles — a vague smile still fraying at the seams. It gets covered by Dazai’s lips, blanketed behind a reassuring peck.
“I’m /really/ sorry about all this,” the alpha insists. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
The thing is, Chuuya /believes/ him.
He /sounds/ sorry.
“I’m /really/ sorry about all this,” the alpha insists. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
The thing is, Chuuya /believes/ him.
He /sounds/ sorry.
“Next time, talk to me. Even just the tiniest thing— just /tell/ me.”
He doesn’t miss the second of hesitation before Dazai lowers his head and whispers ‘I’ll try, Chuuya. I promise.’
But ‘I’ll try’ is better than nothing, and ‘not nothing’ is all Chuuya needs right now.
He doesn’t miss the second of hesitation before Dazai lowers his head and whispers ‘I’ll try, Chuuya. I promise.’
But ‘I’ll try’ is better than nothing, and ‘not nothing’ is all Chuuya needs right now.
It’s all he needs to walk out of that staff room in one piece.
He’s clinging to Dazai’s explanation like a dying man clings to his last breath, but that’s nothing new.
It’s also not something Chuuya can /control/.
The redhead shakes his head at Ryuu when he and Dazai come out
He’s clinging to Dazai’s explanation like a dying man clings to his last breath, but that’s nothing new.
It’s also not something Chuuya can /control/.
The redhead shakes his head at Ryuu when he and Dazai come out
of the staff room hand in hand, bodies pressed together as if too much distance could make them tumble.
He asks Dazai to sit down, make himself comfortable.
The alpha saunters to one of the tables with just a nod to Akutagawa.
Much to Chuuya’s surprise, it takes a total of
He asks Dazai to sit down, make himself comfortable.
The alpha saunters to one of the tables with just a nod to Akutagawa.
Much to Chuuya’s surprise, it takes a total of
/five/ minutes before Ryuu ambushes him as he’s refilling milk from the stock fridge.
Chuuya expected him to wait at least ten.
However, the clean dishwasher gave Akutagawa the /perfect/ excuse.
“Are you ok?” the omega asks.
Chuuya shrugs.
“I’m fine. Dazai explained.”
Chuuya expected him to wait at least ten.
However, the clean dishwasher gave Akutagawa the /perfect/ excuse.
“Are you ok?” the omega asks.
Chuuya shrugs.
“I’m fine. Dazai explained.”
Akutagawa frowns, stopping mid-gesture as he’s moving the mugs from the dishwasher to a tray. Then, he’ll carry them behind the counter for the — very scarce, today — customers drinking in.
Honestly, Chuuya secretly hopes no one will come in.
He’s not exactly in a people mood.
Honestly, Chuuya secretly hopes no one will come in.
He’s not exactly in a people mood.
But he’s also even less in the listen-to-your-best-friend-while-you-rearrange-the-stupid-skimmed-milk mood.
“Did he explain why he lied to your face?” Akutagawa asks, voice leveled.
“He explained why he didn’t tell me some things.”
“Was that enough?”
“It was for /me/, Ryuu.”
“Did he explain why he lied to your face?” Akutagawa asks, voice leveled.
“He explained why he didn’t tell me some things.”
“Was that enough?”
“It was for /me/, Ryuu.”
And he realizes he’s not very /talkative/, and that his friend is only worried about him, but he’d rather shoot himself in the foot than recount the last few hours.
He waits for a reaction. And /waits.
Akutagawa’s silence nags at his nerves.
It makes him feel /judged/.
He waits for a reaction. And /waits.
Akutagawa’s silence nags at his nerves.
It makes him feel /judged/.
Or maybe it’s him who refused to be honest and tell Dazai how hurt and frustrated and tired he really is, and is now taking it out on Akutagawa.
Either way, annoyance pools in this stomach.
When Chuuya slams the fridge’s door close, it’s a gesture full of pent-up violence.
Either way, annoyance pools in this stomach.
When Chuuya slams the fridge’s door close, it’s a gesture full of pent-up violence.
The sound is not nearly as satisfying as he expected.
“If you have something to say, /say/ it,” he snaps.
Akutagawa looks at him.
His eyes narrow, his lips pulled together in an unreadable, thin line.
“…Is there anything in particular you /want/ me to say?”
Chuuya shivers.
“If you have something to say, /say/ it,” he snaps.
Akutagawa looks at him.
His eyes narrow, his lips pulled together in an unreadable, thin line.
“…Is there anything in particular you /want/ me to say?”
Chuuya shivers.
“I—“
He stalls.
/Shit./
No, he wants Ryuu to erase the past twenty-four hours. He would like to sleep for a thousand years.
He wants to scream.
He would /love/ to not face anyone and be left alone, but he knows already that he would feel so /damn/ lonely in that case.
He stalls.
/Shit./
No, he wants Ryuu to erase the past twenty-four hours. He would like to sleep for a thousand years.
He wants to scream.
He would /love/ to not face anyone and be left alone, but he knows already that he would feel so /damn/ lonely in that case.
He’d just rather communicate telepathically, because wording out his /feelings/ sucks.
“You’re such a Taurus, I swear.” Akutagawa rolls his eyes, piling up mug after mug, plate after plate. “Can I do anything?”
Chuuya shakes his head. He /sighs/.
“Clean the syrups? I hate it.”
“You’re such a Taurus, I swear.” Akutagawa rolls his eyes, piling up mug after mug, plate after plate. “Can I do anything?”
Chuuya shakes his head. He /sighs/.
“Clean the syrups? I hate it.”
“I /know/, so I’ve done it already,” the omega says, flashing the redhead a crooked grin. “Look— if you’re ok, I’m happy for you too. But if Dazai hurts you, I’ll kill him.”
With that, carrying a tray full of steaming cups freshly out of the dishwasher, Akutagawa steps away.
With that, carrying a tray full of steaming cups freshly out of the dishwasher, Akutagawa steps away.
As the hours go by, sometimes Chuuya glances at Dazai.
He’s scrolling through his phone lazily, a vanilla latte in front of him and long legs stretched under the table.
The omega finds himself wondering who is Dazai texting.
Atsushi is typing on his laptop at another table,
He’s scrolling through his phone lazily, a vanilla latte in front of him and long legs stretched under the table.
The omega finds himself wondering who is Dazai texting.
Atsushi is typing on his laptop at another table,
his books fully occupying all the space, but sometimes he and Dazai exchange a few words.
Sometimes they laugh, and Akutagawa looks /sour/ and relieved at the same time.
As the hours go by, Chuuya tries to not overthink it.
Sometimes they laugh, and Akutagawa looks /sour/ and relieved at the same time.
As the hours go by, Chuuya tries to not overthink it.
He brushes away the questions — Who is this best friend? /What/ kind of relationship is there between he and Dazai?
As the hours go by, he counts the things he didn’t know about Dazai.
The bandages.
The bar.
The whiskey.
The best friend.
The secrets.
The //darkness//.
As the hours go by, he counts the things he didn’t know about Dazai.
The bandages.
The bar.
The whiskey.
The best friend.
The secrets.
The //darkness//.
And it’s so damn dark, behind Dazai’s smile.
As the hours go /by/ and he pretends to work, Chuuya listens to himself.
No, he’s not mad.
That doesn’t mean he’s not hurt.
—
The big change hits the week after, and is borne by Kouyou’s number on the screen of Chuuya’s phone.
As the hours go /by/ and he pretends to work, Chuuya listens to himself.
No, he’s not mad.
That doesn’t mean he’s not hurt.
—
The big change hits the week after, and is borne by Kouyou’s number on the screen of Chuuya’s phone.
“Hello, lad.”
That’s the first thing she greets him with — and it makes the redhead /shiver/.
Dazai lifts an eyebrow from the couch, but Chuuya shakes his head as he pads away.
Now, Kouyou calling on a work night means two things: he’s in trouble, and he’s in /big/ troubles.
That’s the first thing she greets him with — and it makes the redhead /shiver/.
Dazai lifts an eyebrow from the couch, but Chuuya shakes his head as he pads away.
Now, Kouyou calling on a work night means two things: he’s in trouble, and he’s in /big/ troubles.
Considering how annoyed she sounds, he’s inclined towards the latter.
Kouyou doesn’t give him time to ask, though.
“Guess who just landed from Paris, blabbing about renewing their wedding vows?”
A familiar voice laughs in the background. Chuuya’s heart stutters.
/ Oh no. /
Kouyou doesn’t give him time to ask, though.
“Guess who just landed from Paris, blabbing about renewing their wedding vows?”
A familiar voice laughs in the background. Chuuya’s heart stutters.
/ Oh no. /
Chuuya swallows dry, moving his phone from one ear to the other.
There’s only two people who would consider an intercontinental flight and a party a /doable/ surprise, but…
“…But uncle Paul and uncle Arthur renewed their vows two years ago.”
There’s only two people who would consider an intercontinental flight and a party a /doable/ surprise, but…
“…But uncle Paul and uncle Arthur renewed their vows two years ago.”
“Apparently, uncle Paul has a new white Armani suit.”
Chuuya blinks. “Ok…?”
Kouyou sighs.
He can almost picture his sister rubbing her eyes, most likely while their uncles eavesdrop the conversation and comment on it.
Chuuya blinks. “Ok…?”
Kouyou sighs.
He can almost picture his sister rubbing her eyes, most likely while their uncles eavesdrop the conversation and comment on it.
“Don’t ask /me/, Chuuya,” she drawls. “That’s what he said when I asked: he has a new suit and wants to make the best of it.”
“So…”
“It’s this weekend.”
Chuuya almost chokes on his spit.
“/What/!?”
This /weekend/.
He has double shifts and not time to find a train.
“So…”
“It’s this weekend.”
Chuuya almost chokes on his spit.
“/What/!?”
This /weekend/.
He has double shifts and not time to find a train.
From a non-specified point behind Kouyou, Chuuya can hear a vague: ‘tell my favorite nephew he’ll be disowned if he doesn’t come home.’
Now: Chuuya loves Paul Verlaine, he /really/ does.
They’re not blood related, and they are not even technically uncles since Arthur Rimbaud
Now: Chuuya loves Paul Verlaine, he /really/ does.
They’re not blood related, and they are not even technically uncles since Arthur Rimbaud
is his father’s cousin, but Paul acted as an uncle, a brother and a friend.
That doesn’t mean Chuuya will risk his job for this circus.
He frowns at the phone. “Tell my favorite uncle I have a job. I need /time/ to plan.”
A second of silence, and some noises that Chuuya can’t
That doesn’t mean Chuuya will risk his job for this circus.
He frowns at the phone. “Tell my favorite uncle I have a job. I need /time/ to plan.”
A second of silence, and some noises that Chuuya can’t
quite grasp. Then, Kouyou clicks her tongue.
(Honestly? Chuuya’s glad he wasn’t born the only girl in the family.
Kouyou’s existence must be /difficult/.)
“Your favorite uncle says: not my problem.” He can hear her /grin/ as she adds: “Ah. And he says, bring your boyfriend.”
(Honestly? Chuuya’s glad he wasn’t born the only girl in the family.
Kouyou’s existence must be /difficult/.)
“Your favorite uncle says: not my problem.” He can hear her /grin/ as she adds: “Ah. And he says, bring your boyfriend.”
/What the hell?!/
“You told Paul about Dazai!?” he screeches.
Kouyou’s reply is perfectly /leveled/, not a drop of surprise in her voice as she says:
“He follows you on Instagram.”
Chuuya gapes.
He never accepted anyone from his family, Kouyou being the only exception.
“You told Paul about Dazai!?” he screeches.
Kouyou’s reply is perfectly /leveled/, not a drop of surprise in her voice as she says:
“He follows you on Instagram.”
Chuuya gapes.
He never accepted anyone from his family, Kouyou being the only exception.
But she’s his /sister/.
Which means—
Uncle Paul has a damn fake account.
And, honestly… Of course uncle Paul made a fake account to stalk and spy on him.
That’s sounds so damn on /brand/.
Chuuya sighs.
“I’ll pretend I never heard this,” he says. “Where’s the ceremony?”
Which means—
Uncle Paul has a damn fake account.
And, honestly… Of course uncle Paul made a fake account to stalk and spy on him.
That’s sounds so damn on /brand/.
Chuuya sighs.
“I’ll pretend I never heard this,” he says. “Where’s the ceremony?”
“Mum and dad’s.”
The omega scoffs a laughter. /God/.
Of course it has to be there, when he and Kouyou moved out.
Bet Arahabaki will be damn happy to see him.
“/Poetic/.”
“Don’t judge them, Chuuya,” Kouyou hums. “We must admit it’s a nice place for a ceremony.”
The omega scoffs a laughter. /God/.
Of course it has to be there, when he and Kouyou moved out.
Bet Arahabaki will be damn happy to see him.
“/Poetic/.”
“Don’t judge them, Chuuya,” Kouyou hums. “We must admit it’s a nice place for a ceremony.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes, laying his hip against the kitchen’s table.
/Yeah, a nice place if you want your renewal ceremony to be blessed by the god of chaos./
But, in some ways, his uncles /have/ been blessed by chaos.
They thrive in it.
“So we’re going home, big sis?”
/Yeah, a nice place if you want your renewal ceremony to be blessed by the god of chaos./
But, in some ways, his uncles /have/ been blessed by chaos.
They thrive in it.
“So we’re going home, big sis?”
Kouyou puffs out a breath, tiredness flowing through the long pause she allows herself. “Yeah. Sounds like we are.”
Part of Chuuya can’t really /believe/ it.
He’s going home.
He’ll see his parents.
Uncle Arthur and uncle Paul are renewing their vows — and Paul can say
Part of Chuuya can’t really /believe/ it.
He’s going home.
He’ll see his parents.
Uncle Arthur and uncle Paul are renewing their vows — and Paul can say
whatever he wants, he can blame it on a new suit if he wants to, but Chuuya begs to differ.
He /knows/ his uncles had a big fight.
They always do something grand after a fight. Some romantic gestures that resets everything else.
A cleans, shiny, overly-dramatic slate.
He /knows/ his uncles had a big fight.
They always do something grand after a fight. Some romantic gestures that resets everything else.
A cleans, shiny, overly-dramatic slate.
(Maybe that’s what he and Dazai need, too.)
All things considered, Chuuya guesses Fitzgerald won’t bitch about a free weekend if he can convince his colleagues to cover for him.
Some of the part-timers have been begging to cover more shifts, but Fitzgerald is /damn/ stingy.
All things considered, Chuuya guesses Fitzgerald won’t bitch about a free weekend if he can convince his colleagues to cover for him.
Some of the part-timers have been begging to cover more shifts, but Fitzgerald is /damn/ stingy.
And anyway, Akutagawa owes him a favor now.
And… /well/.
Maybe, when Chuuya returns, Dazai will be more willing to introduce him to that Oda guy.
Chuuya’s shoulders drop a little as the realization sinks in: he /is/ going home.
“Do I have any say in the matter?” he asks.
And… /well/.
Maybe, when Chuuya returns, Dazai will be more willing to introduce him to that Oda guy.
Chuuya’s shoulders drop a little as the realization sinks in: he /is/ going home.
“Do I have any say in the matter?” he asks.
There’s a moment of hesitation from the other side of the line.
Then, Kouyou scoffs. It’s weak, though.
Her voice sounds younger.
“No. Obviously not.”
Which is translatable in: neither of us does.
And Chuuya knew it from the start, and honestly he /does/ miss home.
Then, Kouyou scoffs. It’s weak, though.
Her voice sounds younger.
“No. Obviously not.”
Which is translatable in: neither of us does.
And Chuuya knew it from the start, and honestly he /does/ miss home.
He even misses Arahabaki and its shitty temper and its shitty statue.
Running a hand through his hair, Chuuya clicks his tongue. It comes out more annoyed than he feels.
“I’ll talk to my boss.”
He can almost /see/ Kouyou lowering her head in quiet approval.
“Yes, please.”
Running a hand through his hair, Chuuya clicks his tongue. It comes out more annoyed than he feels.
“I’ll talk to my boss.”
He can almost /see/ Kouyou lowering her head in quiet approval.
“Yes, please.”
“I can’t promise anything, though.”
“Of course.”
At the same time, Chuuya already made up his mind.
He can’t miss his dad getting drunk, his mum scolding Paul, or Arthur crying during the vows.
It’s unexpected, yes, but maybe…
Maybe it’s a /gift/. A sign.
“And… Chuuya?”
“Of course.”
At the same time, Chuuya already made up his mind.
He can’t miss his dad getting drunk, his mum scolding Paul, or Arthur crying during the vows.
It’s unexpected, yes, but maybe…
Maybe it’s a /gift/. A sign.
“And… Chuuya?”
Chuuya hesitates. He fidgets with the edge of his sweater, not knowing what to expect next.
“Yes?”
“/Do/ bring your alpha. We’d love to meet him.”
Oh, yes.
No biggie.
He’ll just have to ask Dazai — legit mate material! — to meet his entire /family/.
// *Your* alpha. //
“Yes?”
“/Do/ bring your alpha. We’d love to meet him.”
Oh, yes.
No biggie.
He’ll just have to ask Dazai — legit mate material! — to meet his entire /family/.
// *Your* alpha. //
His mother is going to /pester/ him with questions.
And his father— his father is going to /kidnap/ Dazai to show him around, and he has a feeling Dazai will /enjoy/ every second of it.
/God/.
Though Chuuya supposes it’s a fair question from Kouyou, since she has been the
And his father— his father is going to /kidnap/ Dazai to show him around, and he has a feeling Dazai will /enjoy/ every second of it.
/God/.
Though Chuuya supposes it’s a fair question from Kouyou, since she has been the
only child bringing someone home for so long.
Chuuya used to introduce his ‘boyfriends’ to his parents.
In middle school, it happened often.
He was popular, sought after.
He’d break up with someone, and days later his locker would be packed with letters begging for a date.
Chuuya used to introduce his ‘boyfriends’ to his parents.
In middle school, it happened often.
He was popular, sought after.
He’d break up with someone, and days later his locker would be packed with letters begging for a date.
Chuuya /liked/ bringing people home.
Then, he stopped.
What’s the point in shaming yourself by bringing someone home, when you know they’ll leave you anyway?
At first, Kouyou told him he’d pissed off Arahabaki by parading his conquests in front of the statue.
She was joking.
Then, he stopped.
What’s the point in shaming yourself by bringing someone home, when you know they’ll leave you anyway?
At first, Kouyou told him he’d pissed off Arahabaki by parading his conquests in front of the statue.
She was joking.
But the joke turned bittersweet. Chuuya didn’t date anymore.
Until he started denying his second gender.
Until his mother got worried.
Until he followed Kouyou, and moved to Tokyo.
“Whatever. Will Akiko be there?” the redhead asks, rolling a strand of hair around his index.
Until he started denying his second gender.
Until his mother got worried.
Until he followed Kouyou, and moved to Tokyo.
“Whatever. Will Akiko be there?” the redhead asks, rolling a strand of hair around his index.
He /likes/ Akiko.
To be honest, Chuuya used to have a platonic crush on her when he was a teen.
She’s cool and badass and could cut open a bitch with her scalpel, and — and she’s been Kouyou’s mate for /years/, now.
She makes Kouyou happy, and that’s all Chuuya can ask.
To be honest, Chuuya used to have a platonic crush on her when he was a teen.
She’s cool and badass and could cut open a bitch with her scalpel, and — and she’s been Kouyou’s mate for /years/, now.
She makes Kouyou happy, and that’s all Chuuya can ask.
Besides, ‘a doctor in the family is always useful’ — or so Chuuya’s father liked to remind everyone for the first year of Kouyou’s relationship.
As if his own daughter being a renewed stylist wasn’t enough, because /she/ couldn’t pretend to care about /his/ backache.
As if his own daughter being a renewed stylist wasn’t enough, because /she/ couldn’t pretend to care about /his/ backache.
(Now, Chuuya wonders what his father will say about /Dazai/.)
Kouyou lets out a ‘hmpf’.
“Nah. She has to work.”
“Oh no, dad will have to Google his shitty medical questions now.”
“I know. Isn’t it a /tragedy/,” she drawls, an eye roll distinguishable in her mocking timbre.
Kouyou lets out a ‘hmpf’.
“Nah. She has to work.”
“Oh no, dad will have to Google his shitty medical questions now.”
“I know. Isn’t it a /tragedy/,” she drawls, an eye roll distinguishable in her mocking timbre.
“Tell Akiko I’ll miss her.”
“Oh, come on. You won’t have time to miss her with your boyfriend around.”
Chuuya twists his nose.
No, he /won’t/ have time to miss her, and the spare time he’ll have will be spent getting drunk with his uncles, but that was to be /polite/.
“Oh, come on. You won’t have time to miss her with your boyfriend around.”
Chuuya twists his nose.
No, he /won’t/ have time to miss her, and the spare time he’ll have will be spent getting drunk with his uncles, but that was to be /polite/.
Besides, Kouyou sounds /so/ disgustingly satisfied that the omega feels tempted to leave Dazai behind just to scorn her.
“You’re just planning to use Dazai and me as a diversion.”
“To avoid getting asked /again/ when we’ll give mum a grandchild? Absolutely.” She chuckles — low
“You’re just planning to use Dazai and me as a diversion.”
“To avoid getting asked /again/ when we’ll give mum a grandchild? Absolutely.” She chuckles — low
and /alluring/. “My. This Dazai guy made you smarter.”
“Hey—!”
“See you at home, Chuuya.”
And, like that, she hangs up.
She hangs up.
Does his sister even /love/ him?!
And Chuuya is left starting at his cellphone, wondering if he’ll be able to survive the following days.
“Hey—!”
“See you at home, Chuuya.”
And, like that, she hangs up.
She hangs up.
Does his sister even /love/ him?!
And Chuuya is left starting at his cellphone, wondering if he’ll be able to survive the following days.
As he saunters back to the living room, staring at the phone, Kouyou’s comment reminds him to pack some extra contraception.
Not that he /needs/ it.
The idea of having /anything/ inside him makes the redhead shiver, and not in a pleasant way, but— yeah, he’d rather be careful.
Not that he /needs/ it.
The idea of having /anything/ inside him makes the redhead shiver, and not in a pleasant way, but— yeah, he’d rather be careful.
His heat isn’t due to hit in a while, still, but his body has a tendency to /surprise/ him.
Besides, it doesn’t necessarily take a knot to breed an omega, heat or not.
It’s not /common/, and probably it’s downright little shy of impossible, but not entirely unheard of.
Besides, it doesn’t necessarily take a knot to breed an omega, heat or not.
It’s not /common/, and probably it’s downright little shy of impossible, but not entirely unheard of.
So, yes, Chuuya would rather do whatever he decides to do /safely/.
Not that he wouldn’t want to have children, someday.
He toyed with the possibility. He’d like to adopt, maybe.
But right /now/—
“You ok?” Dazai asks, straightening up when Chuuya plummets on the couch.
Not that he wouldn’t want to have children, someday.
He toyed with the possibility. He’d like to adopt, maybe.
But right /now/—
“You ok?” Dazai asks, straightening up when Chuuya plummets on the couch.
He can distinguish a tinge of worry in the alpha’s voice.
It /warms/ Chuuya’s chest, to know that someone worries about him.
He hmms, instead, basking in Dazai’s presence.
The scent makes his nostrils flare. It immediately rocks Chuuya into a sense of quietude, turning the
It /warms/ Chuuya’s chest, to know that someone worries about him.
He hmms, instead, basking in Dazai’s presence.
The scent makes his nostrils flare. It immediately rocks Chuuya into a sense of quietude, turning the
TV series on the screen into white noise.
It’s all /background/. It doesn’t matter.
Chuuya curls against Dazai’s side like a cat — a red, needy cat.
And Dazai might poke fun at him for his height, but he’s the perfect size to rest his head on Dazai’s lap and press his
It’s all /background/. It doesn’t matter.
Chuuya curls against Dazai’s side like a cat — a red, needy cat.
And Dazai might poke fun at him for his height, but he’s the perfect size to rest his head on Dazai’s lap and press his
feet against the couch’s armrest.
When the alpha’s hand finds its way to the soft mass of his hair, massaging the scalp almost /absently/, movements guided by an intimacy that doesn’t need words or permissions, a purr crawls up Chuuya’s windpipe.
It /shakes/ him.
When the alpha’s hand finds its way to the soft mass of his hair, massaging the scalp almost /absently/, movements guided by an intimacy that doesn’t need words or permissions, a purr crawls up Chuuya’s windpipe.
It /shakes/ him.
“Are you ok?” Dazai asks again.
The shadow of /crooning/ ricochets in his voice.
Chuuya squirms, pressing his face against Dazai’s thigh to guide the alpha’s fingers toward the back of his head, right where he /likes/ it.
Every touch seems to dive right into his bones.
The shadow of /crooning/ ricochets in his voice.
Chuuya squirms, pressing his face against Dazai’s thigh to guide the alpha’s fingers toward the back of his head, right where he /likes/ it.
Every touch seems to dive right into his bones.
His entire body /reacts/ to Dazai’s fluttering caresses, sending shivers down Chuuya’s spine.
And the truth is, Chuuya didn’t have nearly enough time to /enjoy/ his boyfriend recently.
He stretches, lazily, sultry, body asking for /more/ contact without words.
And the truth is, Chuuya didn’t have nearly enough time to /enjoy/ his boyfriend recently.
He stretches, lazily, sultry, body asking for /more/ contact without words.
As he rubs his face in Dazai’s thigh, he /feels/ that the alpha lost all interest in whatever he was watching.
It makes Chuuya smile to himself.
This is turning out interesting, he ponders.
But /first/—
“It was my sister,” the omega murmurs, voice soft, after a moment.
It makes Chuuya smile to himself.
This is turning out interesting, he ponders.
But /first/—
“It was my sister,” the omega murmurs, voice soft, after a moment.
He blinks away the mix of /relax/ and /want/ churning in his stomach.
Normally they’d end up savoring each other, sharing slow touches that gradually escalated into more.
Tonight, though, he has to get this matter out of the way first.
Dazai’s hand stops.
“Is she alright?”
Normally they’d end up savoring each other, sharing slow touches that gradually escalated into more.
Tonight, though, he has to get this matter out of the way first.
Dazai’s hand stops.
“Is she alright?”
Chuuya hums. He lifts his head to prompt Dazai to move again, regaining that touch that faded away when he spoke.
“She’s ok.”
Forming words is hard, when all he wants is to drown in Dazai’s kisses.
“Something important?”
“Yes,” he says, but doesn’t offer any clarification.
“She’s ok.”
Forming words is hard, when all he wants is to drown in Dazai’s kisses.
“Something important?”
“Yes,” he says, but doesn’t offer any clarification.
Hell.
Uncle Paul and uncle Arthur are /back/.
And the thing, Chuuya’s hometown is tiny.
It’s old fashioned.
It’s the kind of place where the leaves turn reddish and crips as the summer ends, where the air is always a little too cold.
The mountains make it a sacred place.
Uncle Paul and uncle Arthur are /back/.
And the thing, Chuuya’s hometown is tiny.
It’s old fashioned.
It’s the kind of place where the leaves turn reddish and crips as the summer ends, where the air is always a little too cold.
The mountains make it a sacred place.
The mountains allow them all to be a little closer to the old gods, according to the legends.
But Chuuya knows little about the gods.
All he knows is a school complex that seems to fall apart, and an arcade always crowded and places where he got dumped that he tends to avoid.
But Chuuya knows little about the gods.
All he knows is a school complex that seems to fall apart, and an arcade always crowded and places where he got dumped that he tends to avoid.
He knows living in a house with too many hiding places, and yet always too exposed.
He knows Arahabaki, that bitch.
And most days he is /glad/ he left, but it’s /home/.
He wants Dazai to be part of it.
“Oi, ‘Samu.”
“Hm?”
“Do you have plans for this weekend?”
He knows Arahabaki, that bitch.
And most days he is /glad/ he left, but it’s /home/.
He wants Dazai to be part of it.
“Oi, ‘Samu.”
“Hm?”
“Do you have plans for this weekend?”
“I— don’t think so. I’ll see if Ranpo wants to study, maybe. Why?”
Immediately, Chuuya’s stomach sinks.
“Ah. Nothing.”
“Why, sweetheart?” Dazai asks, a little firmer this time.
It’s the /crooning/ that really makes Chuuya sigh and yield, though. That and the caresses.
Immediately, Chuuya’s stomach sinks.
“Ah. Nothing.”
“Why, sweetheart?” Dazai asks, a little firmer this time.
It’s the /crooning/ that really makes Chuuya sigh and yield, though. That and the caresses.
The alpha always makes him /weak/ with the tiniest gestures.
Chuuya purrs louder when Dazai’s fingers comb through his hair, the reaction /entirely/ out of his control.
“It’s really not important.”
Dazai sighs.
“Chibi…”
He sinks his face in Dazai’s lap, refusing to look up.
Chuuya purrs louder when Dazai’s fingers comb through his hair, the reaction /entirely/ out of his control.
“It’s really not important.”
Dazai sighs.
“Chibi…”
He sinks his face in Dazai’s lap, refusing to look up.
“Well, actually, I’m going home for a few days.” Chuuya blurts it out almost without /breathing/. “I…”
He swallows dry.
Pease, he thinks. Please, don’t get freaked out.
“I was thinking… maybe you could come with me?”
// Meet my family.//
He doesn’t need to ask /twice/.
He swallows dry.
Pease, he thinks. Please, don’t get freaked out.
“I was thinking… maybe you could come with me?”
// Meet my family.//
He doesn’t need to ask /twice/.
He doesn’t have to, because Dazai already bent over him.
He kisses Chuuya’s cheek, the tip of his nose, his eyelashes when Chuuya tries to move.
He leaves a wet, open-mouthed kiss on his lips when Chuuya turns and makes an effort to /protest/ for the sudden shower of kisses.
He kisses Chuuya’s cheek, the tip of his nose, his eyelashes when Chuuya tries to move.
He leaves a wet, open-mouthed kiss on his lips when Chuuya turns and makes an effort to /protest/ for the sudden shower of kisses.
He didn’t expect this amount of /enthusiasm/, to be honest.
The reaction catches him off guard, and he /winces/ and hmms under Dazai’s mouth before he can gather enough brain cells to respond to the contact — opening to the warm tongue that slithered past his teeth.
The reaction catches him off guard, and he /winces/ and hmms under Dazai’s mouth before he can gather enough brain cells to respond to the contact — opening to the warm tongue that slithered past his teeth.
Although he surrenders under the kiss, pliant and /lost/ and at the mercy of Dazai’s skillful lips, gone with the alpha’s hands in his hair, Chuuya still marvels at how genuinely happy he seems.
He can /smell/ happiness — unguarded, no-masks-between-us happiness — on Dazai.
He can /smell/ happiness — unguarded, no-masks-between-us happiness — on Dazai.
It’s like their red string, damaged by each and every argument, suddenly pulled them closer
And Chuuya can’t really doubt anything Dazai did or will do when he’s drunk on feelings.
Slowly he frees his arms from under Dazai, tenderly cupping the alpha’s face to deepen the kiss.
And Chuuya can’t really doubt anything Dazai did or will do when he’s drunk on feelings.
Slowly he frees his arms from under Dazai, tenderly cupping the alpha’s face to deepen the kiss.
/Yes/, Dazai says with every nibble, with every peck. /Yes/.
And suddenly Chuuya has a feeling he asked something /big/.
Dazai is /still/ smiling against the omega’s lips when he sing-songs:
“Is Chuuuya going to propose while we’re there, like in a romantic movie~”
And suddenly Chuuya has a feeling he asked something /big/.
Dazai is /still/ smiling against the omega’s lips when he sing-songs:
“Is Chuuuya going to propose while we’re there, like in a romantic movie~”
He almost pushes Dazai off the couch. /Almost/.
“Hah?! No! Don’t get ideas!”
“But! A movie!”
“Your fucking head is a movie!” he barks. He still leaves a gentle peck on Dazai’s lips, though. “Let me get up if you want to make out, idiot. You’ll hurt your stupid neck like this.”
“Hah?! No! Don’t get ideas!”
“But! A movie!”
“Your fucking head is a movie!” he barks. He still leaves a gentle peck on Dazai’s lips, though. “Let me get up if you want to make out, idiot. You’ll hurt your stupid neck like this.”
Gingerly, Dazai complies.
He’s still /beaming/, that beam that chamfers his edges and makes the alpha’s eye less crimson and more like fondant honey, but his movements are careful.
“We’ll need to get train tickets,” the alpha murmurs, almost to himself. “And a hotel room.”
He’s still /beaming/, that beam that chamfers his edges and makes the alpha’s eye less crimson and more like fondant honey, but his movements are careful.
“We’ll need to get train tickets,” the alpha murmurs, almost to himself. “And a hotel room.”
Settling on Dazai’s knees, lacing his arms around the alpha’s neck, Chuuya shakes his head.
He /wishes/.
“Nah. We’re staying at my parents’.”
Dazai’s eyes widen.
“I don’t want to impose,” he says.
The omega scowls.
As if Chuuya is not /living/ in Dazai’s house almost for
He /wishes/.
“Nah. We’re staying at my parents’.”
Dazai’s eyes widen.
“I don’t want to impose,” he says.
The omega scowls.
As if Chuuya is not /living/ in Dazai’s house almost for
free, considering the ridiculous rent Dazai set him up with.
Most of all— as if /anyone/ in his family would let him stay at a /hotel/.
“Dazai,” he calls.
His fingers brush the scent glands on the alpha’s neck, and he /relishes/ in how Dazai shivers under the ministration.
Most of all— as if /anyone/ in his family would let him stay at a /hotel/.
“Dazai,” he calls.
His fingers brush the scent glands on the alpha’s neck, and he /relishes/ in how Dazai shivers under the ministration.
“It’s ok. We’ll have our room. Hell, we might have our entire section of the house.”
The brunet’s lips part in a ‘o’ of surprise. Chuuya can distinguish curiosity clearly flashing across his face.
(Damn, he sounds like a rich kid.)
Slowly. Dazai nods.
“Ok, then.”
The brunet’s lips part in a ‘o’ of surprise. Chuuya can distinguish curiosity clearly flashing across his face.
(Damn, he sounds like a rich kid.)
Slowly. Dazai nods.
“Ok, then.”
“You’ll like the place,” Chuuya promises, sheepishly, a blush climbing up his neck.
He /hopes/ so, at least.
Anyway, he also locks Dazai’s protests before they can spill out.
He clashes their mouths together. Suddenly the only noises are the TV and the moans and the giggles.
He /hopes/ so, at least.
Anyway, he also locks Dazai’s protests before they can spill out.
He clashes their mouths together. Suddenly the only noises are the TV and the moans and the giggles.
Thirty minutes later, Chuuya’s sprawled on the couch with Dazai between his legs.
Moans spill out of his mouth as he rolls his head back, gasping for hair.
He grasps at the alpha’s tousled hair convulsively, pressing Dazai’s face down on his crotch, thrusting in his mouth.
Moans spill out of his mouth as he rolls his head back, gasping for hair.
He grasps at the alpha’s tousled hair convulsively, pressing Dazai’s face down on his crotch, thrusting in his mouth.
In his phone rest two return tickets for a mountain town in the Yamanashi Prefecture.
—
As Dazai gawks, Chuuya sinks his face in the chick plushie.
He’s holding onto it /tight/, hoping it’ll swallow him.
“Chibi’s house is a Shinto /shrine/?!”
So…
/ Chuuya wants to die. /
—
As Dazai gawks, Chuuya sinks his face in the chick plushie.
He’s holding onto it /tight/, hoping it’ll swallow him.
“Chibi’s house is a Shinto /shrine/?!”
So…
/ Chuuya wants to die. /
He never quite managed to learn how to explain his particular situation— especially to someone born and bred in a town as big as /Tokyo/.
“My /parents/ live in the premises of a shrine,” Chuuya says. “Ane-san and I ran away as soon as we could.”
“But that’s so /cool/.”
“My /parents/ live in the premises of a shrine,” Chuuya says. “Ane-san and I ran away as soon as we could.”
“But that’s so /cool/.”
Chuuya gnaws at his inner cheek, hands sinking in the plush.
He stares at the grey, steep stone stairs in front of them.
He’s the one who takes the first step, with a Dazai in /awe/ trotting next to him.
“It’s normal,” he says.
Which is the opposite of cool.
He stares at the grey, steep stone stairs in front of them.
He’s the one who takes the first step, with a Dazai in /awe/ trotting next to him.
“It’s normal,” he says.
Which is the opposite of cool.
Chuuya always found it quite mortifying.
There’s something vaguely terrifying and behind-of-times about going to school when your family has owned a half-forgotten shrine for generations, and your sister is the captain of the archery club and head of the traditional arts club.
There’s something vaguely terrifying and behind-of-times about going to school when your family has owned a half-forgotten shrine for generations, and your sister is the captain of the archery club and head of the traditional arts club.
And then— then there was /Chuuya/.
The different one.
The one that wanted to leave and move to Paris like uncle Arthur did.
But then the omega turns, and Dazai is staring at him with stars in his eyes.
The warm honey of his irises is /glittering/.
“Are there /ghosts/?!”
The different one.
The one that wanted to leave and move to Paris like uncle Arthur did.
But then the omega turns, and Dazai is staring at him with stars in his eyes.
The warm honey of his irises is /glittering/.
“Are there /ghosts/?!”
“Hah? No, shithead. There’s just Arahabaki.”
/Just/ Arahabaki. Somehow, it doesn’t feel right — it’s not ‘just’.
There’s Arahabaki, period.
Dazai blinks owlishly.
“Arahabaki?”
Shaking his head, Chuuya clicks his tongue.
“Forget it,” he just says, refusing to explain.
/Just/ Arahabaki. Somehow, it doesn’t feel right — it’s not ‘just’.
There’s Arahabaki, period.
Dazai blinks owlishly.
“Arahabaki?”
Shaking his head, Chuuya clicks his tongue.
“Forget it,” he just says, refusing to explain.
He’s sure his dad will be /delighted/ to go on about the shitty deity for days, if Dazai allows him to.
Chuuya glances at the remaining steps that separate them from the front yard.
/How/ can he explain it, though?
In the conglomerate of tiny mountain villages and slightly
Chuuya glances at the remaining steps that separate them from the front yard.
/How/ can he explain it, though?
In the conglomerate of tiny mountain villages and slightly
bigger towns said villages gravitated around, Arahabaki used to be a fairly well-known local deity.
It reigns over chaos, natural disasters.
Legend has it that, during darker ages, Arahabaki demanded sacrifices.
It’d protect the communities from earthquakes, fires and famine.
It reigns over chaos, natural disasters.
Legend has it that, during darker ages, Arahabaki demanded sacrifices.
It’d protect the communities from earthquakes, fires and famine.
In other words, Arahabaki is the boring-as-heck subject of every summer festival Chuuya ever had to help with.
And the omega supposes that, if the god was real, they never really liked him.
“Chibi! Tell me!”
“No.”
“Is Chuuya scared~?”
“What?! As if! /You/ are scared!”
And the omega supposes that, if the god was real, they never really liked him.
“Chibi! Tell me!”
“No.”
“Is Chuuya scared~?”
“What?! As if! /You/ are scared!”
He can /feel/ the enthusiasm Dazai radiates. It oozes from his /scent/, even.
“Chuuya’s so boring! Tell me!”
“Why?! It’s lame!” He barks back, considering shoving the plush in Dazai’s face to make him shut up. “And /stop/ looking at me like that, you’re creeping me out!”
“Chuuya’s so boring! Tell me!”
“Why?! It’s lame!” He barks back, considering shoving the plush in Dazai’s face to make him shut up. “And /stop/ looking at me like that, you’re creeping me out!”
“But Chibiiii~”
“Get a history book if you care.”
“I can’t read! Chuuya has to tell me!” Dazai chirps, as if Chuuya didn’t see him studying countless times.
The redhead’s jaw drops.
“Y— don’t lie with that innocent face, asshole!” He screeches. “People will believe you!”
“Get a history book if you care.”
“I can’t read! Chuuya has to tell me!” Dazai chirps, as if Chuuya didn’t see him studying countless times.
The redhead’s jaw drops.
“Y— don’t lie with that innocent face, asshole!” He screeches. “People will believe you!”
But Dazai’s beam only widens, and Chuuya finds himself rolling his eyes.
To be fair, though… when coming home alone, he always found the steps /daunting/.
With Dazai, bantering like children and playfully screaming at each other, they are on top in what feels like a second.
To be fair, though… when coming home alone, he always found the steps /daunting/.
With Dazai, bantering like children and playfully screaming at each other, they are on top in what feels like a second.
He supposes he /should/ thank his boyfriend for that.
The thing he /can/ do, though, is holding the chick plush with one arm and move closer to Dazai, reaching for the alpha’s hand /sheepishly/.
If he has to step home, he wants to do so holding his boyfriend’s hand.
The thing he /can/ do, though, is holding the chick plush with one arm and move closer to Dazai, reaching for the alpha’s hand /sheepishly/.
If he has to step home, he wants to do so holding his boyfriend’s hand.
Dazai’s fingers intertwine with his ever so /gently/, closing on Chuuya’s hand almost like a shield. The alpha side-glances him, lips twitching up.
“Chuuya?” he calls, quietly.
Just hearing Dazai calling his name warms his heart. It prompts a hmm-ed purr from Chuuya.
“Chuuya?” he calls, quietly.
Just hearing Dazai calling his name warms his heart. It prompts a hmm-ed purr from Chuuya.
The omega grins through the involuntary purr— it’s a cocky smirk, but so full of /love/.
“Forget about that, ‘Samu. The only thing you have to worry about is…”
// “Oh? Chuuya-kun!” //
/My family./
Chuuya’s smile /freezes/.
He almost drops the plushie.
“Hi, Paul. Arthur.”
“Forget about that, ‘Samu. The only thing you have to worry about is…”
// “Oh? Chuuya-kun!” //
/My family./
Chuuya’s smile /freezes/.
He almost drops the plushie.
“Hi, Paul. Arthur.”
The first thing Chuuya sees is a whirlwind of /white/. A white jacket, tailored and crisp, and a white smile.
A blonde ponytail, then.
A second after, he’s squished in a bone-crushing /hug/.
Chuuya’s hand leaves Dazai’s just so he can /balance/ himself instead of tumbling
A blonde ponytail, then.
A second after, he’s squished in a bone-crushing /hug/.
Chuuya’s hand leaves Dazai’s just so he can /balance/ himself instead of tumbling
Down under the impetus of the hug.
There’s a reason why Paul Verlaine is his favorite uncle, and it’s because he never shied away from emotions.
The plush gets caught between the omega and Paul, but the man doesn’t seem to mind — just like he didn’t address Dazai.
For /now/.
There’s a reason why Paul Verlaine is his favorite uncle, and it’s because he never shied away from emotions.
The plush gets caught between the omega and Paul, but the man doesn’t seem to mind — just like he didn’t address Dazai.
For /now/.
“You’re tinier than ever!” Is the first thing Verlaine cries, delight woven in his voice.
…On a second thought, he’s not his favorite uncle anymore.
Chuuya puffs out his cheeks, squirming in protest.
“And /you/ are ruining my plushie, old man.”
“Aw. I missed you, too.”
…On a second thought, he’s not his favorite uncle anymore.
Chuuya puffs out his cheeks, squirming in protest.
“And /you/ are ruining my plushie, old man.”
“Aw. I missed you, too.”
It’s easy to /melt/ in Paul’s embraces.
They’re comforting, warm, they blanket Chuuya in that cologne that fills his childhood memories. That fragrance populates almost all the omega’s happy memories.
“I’m happy to s—“
He shivers when Paul inhales and /stops/ mid-sentence.
They’re comforting, warm, they blanket Chuuya in that cologne that fills his childhood memories. That fragrance populates almost all the omega’s happy memories.
“I’m happy to s—“
He shivers when Paul inhales and /stops/ mid-sentence.
/ I’m happy to see you./
Well; now Chuuya bets Paul is surprised, too.
They say that any pre-heat starts from the heart notes of an omega’s scent.
It mutates and blooms into something else from the /center/. It turns even the sharpest scent into a mellow, relaxed fragrance.
Well; now Chuuya bets Paul is surprised, too.
They say that any pre-heat starts from the heart notes of an omega’s scent.
It mutates and blooms into something else from the /center/. It turns even the sharpest scent into a mellow, relaxed fragrance.
Chuuya never listened to himself, he never cared to.
Dazai barely knows him.
But Verlaine understands him, he’s known Chuuya all his life.
So that /shift/, however small—
He notices it.
Truth be told, Chuuya should have known better when he started feeling tired all the
Dazai barely knows him.
But Verlaine understands him, he’s known Chuuya all his life.
So that /shift/, however small—
He notices it.
Truth be told, Chuuya should have known better when he started feeling tired all the
time, but he thought he was /overworking/ himself.
He should have picked up on the changes, but he thought that the fight with Dazai had left him on edge.
He was /sad/, that’s all.
But the fact that his own family can already /smell/ the pre-heat on him is not good. He just
He should have picked up on the changes, but he thought that the fight with Dazai had left him on edge.
He was /sad/, that’s all.
But the fact that his own family can already /smell/ the pre-heat on him is not good. He just
hopes it stays a /pre/ heat.
“Are you ok?” Paul murmurs, only for Chuuya to hear.
/Ah/.
Chuuya can cope with this.
It’s unexpected, and he missed the obvious signs along the way, but it’s manageable.
He dealt with it discretely before.
That’s what suppressants are for.
“Are you ok?” Paul murmurs, only for Chuuya to hear.
/Ah/.
Chuuya can cope with this.
It’s unexpected, and he missed the obvious signs along the way, but it’s manageable.
He dealt with it discretely before.
That’s what suppressants are for.
“I’m fine,” Chuuya says, a little louder and chipper that it should be. “It’s good to see you, Paul.”
/ Please, / he silently begs, / don’t say anything. Not to *Dazai*. /
And…
And this sucks, but he just has to survive, what? Four days?
Just a long weekend.
/ Please, / he silently begs, / don’t say anything. Not to *Dazai*. /
And…
And this sucks, but he just has to survive, what? Four days?
Just a long weekend.
His heat cycle is an irregular pain in the ass, always has been, so for once it might as well behave and let him prepare.
The redhead just /prays/ his body won’t grace him with more surprises.
Slowly, Paul frees him and steps away.
“You too. Nice thing you’ve got there.”
The redhead just /prays/ his body won’t grace him with more surprises.
Slowly, Paul frees him and steps away.
“You too. Nice thing you’ve got there.”
Chuuya scoffs, turning his middle to shield the plush from the man’s jokes.
“Don’t be mean.”
Verlaine grins. “I’m always mean.”
Mean /and/ dramatic.
Chuuya supposes that he’d see the future if he rolls his eyes any harder.
“Ugh. I hope at least you brought me eclairs.”
“Don’t be mean.”
Verlaine grins. “I’m always mean.”
Mean /and/ dramatic.
Chuuya supposes that he’d see the future if he rolls his eyes any harder.
“Ugh. I hope at least you brought me eclairs.”
// Seriously, not now.
It can’t happen now. Not at his parents’ house.
Not with Dazai around. //
Looking at the scene, Dazai bites his bottom lip, trying to ignore the pang in his stomach.
But there’s no denying that he feels out of place.
Chuuya looks happy, though.
It can’t happen now. Not at his parents’ house.
Not with Dazai around. //
Looking at the scene, Dazai bites his bottom lip, trying to ignore the pang in his stomach.
But there’s no denying that he feels out of place.
Chuuya looks happy, though.
He’s hugging back his uncle, his scent turning /gentler/ as it blends with Verlaine’s — the note of blood-like iron in the redhead smoothed out by the presence of someone he considers family.
It’s /impossible/ to pinpoint Verlaine’s second gender without even the most subtle
It’s /impossible/ to pinpoint Verlaine’s second gender without even the most subtle
trace of scent but, end of day, Dazai doesn’t care.
His stomach churns, thought, at the sudden realization that he’s /not/ the only person Chuuya cares about.
To someone like him, naturally jealous of the few he considers /his/, it’s a weird realization.
Not unpleasant. Odd.
His stomach churns, thought, at the sudden realization that he’s /not/ the only person Chuuya cares about.
To someone like him, naturally jealous of the few he considers /his/, it’s a weird realization.
Not unpleasant. Odd.
Because Chuuya might pretend he’s bothered, because he’s a stubborn Chibi tsundere, but Dazai can /taste/ the change in his attitude.
Chuuya is in his /element/.
He’s surrounded by the people he loves.
And—
“So, who are you?”
Chuuya is in his /element/.
He’s surrounded by the people he loves.
And—
“So, who are you?”
The question pulls the rug from under Dazai’s feet.
He blinks, stupidly, failing to connect the words to a meaning and, in turn, to find a decent reply.
Verlaine’s piercing eyes linger on him.
He didn’t even realize the attention shifted to him and—
Well. Not the best start.
He blinks, stupidly, failing to connect the words to a meaning and, in turn, to find a decent reply.
Verlaine’s piercing eyes linger on him.
He didn’t even realize the attention shifted to him and—
Well. Not the best start.
Dazai swallows, throat suddenly dry.
“I’m—“
Ah, shit.
Here’s his fight or flight instinct kicking in, telling him to leave before he says something out of place.
Paul Verlaine quirks an eyebrow. His mirth nicks at him, sharp, leaving invisible paper cuts on Dazai.
“I’m—“
Ah, shit.
Here’s his fight or flight instinct kicking in, telling him to leave before he says something out of place.
Paul Verlaine quirks an eyebrow. His mirth nicks at him, sharp, leaving invisible paper cuts on Dazai.
Good first impressions come easily to him, normally; it’s sticking by them that might be an issue.
Why must he feel like an idiot /now/?
“Yes?” he nudges.
Dazai bows his head.
“My name is Dazai,” he forces out, as /politely/ as he can without chocking on his own spit.
Why must he feel like an idiot /now/?
“Yes?” he nudges.
Dazai bows his head.
“My name is Dazai,” he forces out, as /politely/ as he can without chocking on his own spit.
“Dazai Osamu. I’m…”
“He’s my boyfriend,” Chuuya interrupts him.
Dazai’s heart hiccups.
Chuuya blurted it out matter-of-factly, almost stubbornly, staring at his uncle with his chin held proudly high.
He /needed/ to say that as much as Dazai needed to hear it.
“He’s my boyfriend,” Chuuya interrupts him.
Dazai’s heart hiccups.
Chuuya blurted it out matter-of-factly, almost stubbornly, staring at his uncle with his chin held proudly high.
He /needed/ to say that as much as Dazai needed to hear it.
Dazai flashes the omega a tiny, intimate smile, his hand reaching for Chuuya’s free hand again — fingers lacing around his slim wrist.
“I’m Chuuya’s boyfriend,” he repeats. It tastes like /mate/. “And a /very/ lucky person. It’s nice to finally meet you, Verlaine-san.”
“I’m Chuuya’s boyfriend,” he repeats. It tastes like /mate/. “And a /very/ lucky person. It’s nice to finally meet you, Verlaine-san.”
Verlaine grins.
“Smooth.” He turns to Chuuya. “Good time to have your alpha around, hm, mon rossignol?”
Next to him, Chuuya’s shoulders turn rigid. Dazai eyes him, seeing a fierce blush swallow his freckled cheeks.
“It’s always a good time,” the omega mutters.
“Smooth.” He turns to Chuuya. “Good time to have your alpha around, hm, mon rossignol?”
Next to him, Chuuya’s shoulders turn rigid. Dazai eyes him, seeing a fierce blush swallow his freckled cheeks.
“It’s always a good time,” the omega mutters.
With a tilt of his head, Verlaine focuses back to Dazai.
His body seems to be moving in a different dimension, like a movie. He’s graceful, but strong — that all-Parisian mix of nonchalance and sophistication that the man embodies so perfectly.
Verlaine quirks his eyebrow.
His body seems to be moving in a different dimension, like a movie. He’s graceful, but strong — that all-Parisian mix of nonchalance and sophistication that the man embodies so perfectly.
Verlaine quirks his eyebrow.
If he squints, Dazai can distinguish some of Chuuya’s mannerism on Verlaine.
The way he carries himself, the way he smiles. The clothes, the long hair.
He can /distinguish/ the facets of Chuuya’s personality that have been borrowed from the man.
The way he carries himself, the way he smiles. The clothes, the long hair.
He can /distinguish/ the facets of Chuuya’s personality that have been borrowed from the man.
“Well, nice to meet you, Dazai-kun. Thanks for looking after Chuuya.”
Dazai nods. It’s more like the /contrary/, though, isn’t it?
He tries to take care of Chuuya, fucks up, and the omega is gracious enough to take him back.
“Thanks for having me at /your/ party.”
Dazai nods. It’s more like the /contrary/, though, isn’t it?
He tries to take care of Chuuya, fucks up, and the omega is gracious enough to take him back.
“Thanks for having me at /your/ party.”
“Of course.” The man winks. “It’s going to be quite the show. You won’t be disappointed.”
“That doesn’t sound reassuring.” Chuuya chimes in with a furrowed brow.
Verlaine seems almost offended by the comment for a moment, then waves it away.
“That doesn’t sound reassuring.” Chuuya chimes in with a furrowed brow.
Verlaine seems almost offended by the comment for a moment, then waves it away.
“A party doesn’t have to be /reassuring/, Chuuya.”
“Hm’m. How much did uncle Arthur agree with?”
Verlaine seems to ponder over it for a moment.
“/Most/ of it,” he compromises, eventually. “What he doesn’t know will surprise him, anyway.”
“Hm’m. How much did uncle Arthur agree with?”
Verlaine seems to ponder over it for a moment.
“/Most/ of it,” he compromises, eventually. “What he doesn’t know will surprise him, anyway.”
Chuuya frowns.
“That’s what I’m scared of.”
“You’re no fun,” Verlaine says with a groan that, again, strikingly reminds Dazai of Chuuya.
But then the man turns to Dazai, his white suit almost /blinding/ under the sun.
“Anyway. /You/ take good care of Chuuya, alright?”
“That’s what I’m scared of.”
“You’re no fun,” Verlaine says with a groan that, again, strikingly reminds Dazai of Chuuya.
But then the man turns to Dazai, his white suit almost /blinding/ under the sun.
“Anyway. /You/ take good care of Chuuya, alright?”
/That/ Dazai can do.
It’s the only thing he can promise, and nods without a second thought.
“Sure.”
Chuuya stabs his chin on the chick plushie. “I’m right here, y’know.”
“I know, mon rossignol,” Verlaine hmms. “Now, I wonder where’s Arthur. I hope he didn’t try to run.”
It’s the only thing he can promise, and nods without a second thought.
“Sure.”
Chuuya stabs his chin on the chick plushie. “I’m right here, y’know.”
“I know, mon rossignol,” Verlaine hmms. “Now, I wonder where’s Arthur. I hope he didn’t try to run.”
Dazai raises an eyebrow, leaning closer to Chuuya.
“Why would anybody run from a vow renewal?” he murmurs into the omega’s hair.
Chuuya shakes his head. He seems vaguely /strengthless/ already.
“Don’t ask,” he mutters.
/But/ Chuuya also cranes his neck and pecks him on the
“Why would anybody run from a vow renewal?” he murmurs into the omega’s hair.
Chuuya shakes his head. He seems vaguely /strengthless/ already.
“Don’t ask,” he mutters.
/But/ Chuuya also cranes his neck and pecks him on the
lips, so Dazai is more than happy to let the matter go.
—
Dazai never thought Chuuya’s parents would really like him.
He expected them to politely stand this weird boy who crashed their family reunion, nothing more.
Unexpectedly, though, they seem to… accept his presence?
—
Dazai never thought Chuuya’s parents would really like him.
He expected them to politely stand this weird boy who crashed their family reunion, nothing more.
Unexpectedly, though, they seem to… accept his presence?
He feels part of the family, somehow.
It’s a heartwarming feeling, to be part of something.
All of a sudden, the idea of having kept Chuuya away from his own past appears as terribly selfish.
And then…
Then there’s Chuuya’s sister.
Kouyou is /terrifying/.
It’s a heartwarming feeling, to be part of something.
All of a sudden, the idea of having kept Chuuya away from his own past appears as terribly selfish.
And then…
Then there’s Chuuya’s sister.
Kouyou is /terrifying/.
She’s beautiful — a sharper, much colder beauty than her brother.
If Chuuya is a flame, she’s a blood stain. If he’s the burning sunset, she’s the crisp alpenglow.
And being finally introduced to her is an /experience/.
As a young alpha who grew up with none other
If Chuuya is a flame, she’s a blood stain. If he’s the burning sunset, she’s the crisp alpenglow.
And being finally introduced to her is an /experience/.
As a young alpha who grew up with none other
than Mori Ougai, when Dazai says that someone has a piercing gaze it’s a serious statement. Kouyou definitely /owns/ it.
Her expression remains serious as Dazai drops in a bow, arms rigid by his side.
“Nice to meet you, Ane-san,” he says, bowing from the waist.
Her expression remains serious as Dazai drops in a bow, arms rigid by his side.
“Nice to meet you, Ane-san,” he says, bowing from the waist.
She looks at him in silence.
“Dazai-kun…” her voice trails off, leaving him waiting.
He waits.
And /waits/.
It feels like a punishment for something he hasn’t done yet. As if she /knows/ he’s just like the others.
“If you make my baby brother cry, I’ll castrate you.”
“Dazai-kun…” her voice trails off, leaving him waiting.
He waits.
And /waits/.
It feels like a punishment for something he hasn’t done yet. As if she /knows/ he’s just like the others.
“If you make my baby brother cry, I’ll castrate you.”
Dazai’s head lurches up, utterly stunned, an ‘o’ forming on his lips.
“N—“
But Kouyou already turned, leaving behind only a trail of barely-there minty scent and the very real ghost of her threat.
Dazai is left standing like an idiot, with Chuuya comfortingly patting him on
“N—“
But Kouyou already turned, leaving behind only a trail of barely-there minty scent and the very real ghost of her threat.
Dazai is left standing like an idiot, with Chuuya comfortingly patting him on
the shoulder.
/…What the fuck was that./
“Ane-san likes you.”
Dazai snorts out a soft ‘pfff’, plummeting on Chuuya’s bed.
Ten minutes later, Kouyou’s glare is still making Dazai shiver, slightly worried for his safety if she discovers that he /did/ make Chuuya cry.
/…What the fuck was that./
“Ane-san likes you.”
Dazai snorts out a soft ‘pfff’, plummeting on Chuuya’s bed.
Ten minutes later, Kouyou’s glare is still making Dazai shiver, slightly worried for his safety if she discovers that he /did/ make Chuuya cry.
The redhead’s childhood bedroom is simple, western style.
Chuuya sits down next to him, so close that his warmth blankets Dazai.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Your sister /despises/ me.” A chortle rolls out Dazai’s lips. “Is that because I stole you? Because of the house?”
Chuuya sits down next to him, so close that his warmth blankets Dazai.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Your sister /despises/ me.” A chortle rolls out Dazai’s lips. “Is that because I stole you? Because of the house?”
Chuuya shrugs before resting his head on Dazai’s shoulder.
The bed doesn’t even /remotely/ reminds a nest — it makes Dazai’s stomach churn, uneasy — but at least the chick plushie is safely tucked at the corner of the bed now, resting on the pillow.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
The bed doesn’t even /remotely/ reminds a nest — it makes Dazai’s stomach churn, uneasy — but at least the chick plushie is safely tucked at the corner of the bed now, resting on the pillow.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
Dazai scowls, throwing a glance at the omega. “Have you heard what she said?”
“Trust me, you’re not the first alpha she threatens. She can do much worse.”
“Oh? How many people did she threaten?”
Chuuya hesitates.
“A… few,” he murmurs.
“Trust me, you’re not the first alpha she threatens. She can do much worse.”
“Oh? How many people did she threaten?”
Chuuya hesitates.
“A… few,” he murmurs.
Now, Dazai might go down the ‘how many people did you date, exactly?’ route.
Chuuya never told him.
To be honest Dazai never shared much, either.
It would be an insensitive question knowing Chuuya’s past, but they have done many insensitive things to each other.
Chuuya never told him.
To be honest Dazai never shared much, either.
It would be an insensitive question knowing Chuuya’s past, but they have done many insensitive things to each other.
However, a hiss comes out of Dazai’s lips before he can think of any other reaction.
Those people made Chuuya feel /disposable/.
“Those assholes.”
Chuuya nuzzles up against his chest, curling by his side. “It’s alright. I moved on.”
“Still, I wish I could do something.”
Those people made Chuuya feel /disposable/.
“Those assholes.”
Chuuya nuzzles up against his chest, curling by his side. “It’s alright. I moved on.”
“Still, I wish I could do something.”
“Well, you can’t, ‘Samu. It’s ok.”
/He’s my boyfriend/.
It’s /amazing/ how much weight that sentence carries after a long string of disappointments.
And Dazai recalls how Chuuya seemed to /boast/ their relationship — as one brags about a success after a lifetime of failures.
/He’s my boyfriend/.
It’s /amazing/ how much weight that sentence carries after a long string of disappointments.
And Dazai recalls how Chuuya seemed to /boast/ their relationship — as one brags about a success after a lifetime of failures.
Gently, the alpha takes advantage of the gap in the conversation to lay on the bed and get comfortable, dragging Chuuya down with him.
The springs cry under their weight. Even laying on his back, Dazai /can/ sense a clear, ghost trace of Chuuya’s scent.
It’s an old trace,
The springs cry under their weight. Even laying on his back, Dazai /can/ sense a clear, ghost trace of Chuuya’s scent.
It’s an old trace,
slightly different from the scent Dazai grew to know so well.
It’s like digging in /memories/.
Happy ones.
Old ones.
Ones that nostalgia and time smoothed out, tuning down their intensity.
On this bed, for some reasons, Dazai feels /at peace/.
It’s like digging in /memories/.
Happy ones.
Old ones.
Ones that nostalgia and time smoothed out, tuning down their intensity.
On this bed, for some reasons, Dazai feels /at peace/.
Dazai wraps an arm around the omega’s shoulders — he’s so /small/, so /inviting/ even in an old, ratty sweater — and makes sure to hold him close.
And Chuuya—
As Chuuya settles by his side, Dazai can’t but think that the omega seems warmer, sweeter, more languid than usual.
And Chuuya—
As Chuuya settles by his side, Dazai can’t but think that the omega seems warmer, sweeter, more languid than usual.
Every movement of Chuuya’s heaving chest resonates with the alpha as an /invitation/.
“I’ll prove your sister wrong,” Dazai promises.
Somehow, it feels unnecessarily dramatic. A little ridiculous, too.
But it’s /honest/.
Chuuya chuckles.
“You don’t have to prove yourself.”
“I’ll prove your sister wrong,” Dazai promises.
Somehow, it feels unnecessarily dramatic. A little ridiculous, too.
But it’s /honest/.
Chuuya chuckles.
“You don’t have to prove yourself.”
“I /kinda/ do, though.” Dazai says, voice quiet. “Do you still think I’ll get tired and leave, too?”
Chuuya sucks in a sharp breath.
He doesn’t reply immediately, loading a reply that hurts without meaning to.
“…I don’t know,” he says, eventually. “I /hope/ not.”
Chuuya sucks in a sharp breath.
He doesn’t reply immediately, loading a reply that hurts without meaning to.
“…I don’t know,” he says, eventually. “I /hope/ not.”
“I’m not leaving. I’m not an idiot; you’re mine, and you’re perfect,” Dazai reiterates.
The reassurance and the praise make Chuuya shift closer — head hidden in the crook of Dazai’s neck, breath hovering over bandages and skin.
But the answer /did/ disappoint Dazai, deep down.
The reassurance and the praise make Chuuya shift closer — head hidden in the crook of Dazai’s neck, breath hovering over bandages and skin.
But the answer /did/ disappoint Dazai, deep down.
“Maybe. For now.”
“Chibi…” Dazai calls, just to reassure himself he still has a voice. “I’m not going /anywhere/.”
“You can’t promise that.”
Dazai holds his breath— he holds it and holds it, forgetting to breathe until the air burns in his lungs.
It’s so /frustrating/.
“Chibi…” Dazai calls, just to reassure himself he still has a voice. “I’m not going /anywhere/.”
“You can’t promise that.”
Dazai holds his breath— he holds it and holds it, forgetting to breathe until the air burns in his lungs.
It’s so /frustrating/.
It kills him to still spot an edge in Chuuya’s voice — a frail, trembling edge — and insecurity in his reply.
But he knew from the beginning that it would take time.
Some things are even just wired in Chuuya’s brain.
Fear and anxiety are engraved in him. They just /exist/.
But he knew from the beginning that it would take time.
Some things are even just wired in Chuuya’s brain.
Fear and anxiety are engraved in him. They just /exist/.
They operate out of Chuuya’s control and, like most things out of anybody’s control, there’s no use in stressing about them all the time.
(Ah.
If only he could be that detached, that objective with /his own/ monsters.)
Ever so tenderly, Dazai brushes a lock of soft, red hair
(Ah.
If only he could be that detached, that objective with /his own/ monsters.)
Ever so tenderly, Dazai brushes a lock of soft, red hair
off Chuuya’s back.
It’s a delicate touch, butterfly-light.
Chuuya shivers under it, letting out a low vibrato — a noise from the throat halfway between a purr and a hmm.
“I can’t promise,” Dazai agrees. “But I can reassure you that I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
It’s a delicate touch, butterfly-light.
Chuuya shivers under it, letting out a low vibrato — a noise from the throat halfway between a purr and a hmm.
“I can’t promise,” Dazai agrees. “But I can reassure you that I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
Chuuya smiles faintly against the alpha’s skin.
“This is not fair,’ he mumbles. “How are you so patient with me?”
Slowly, Dazai leans forward.
He kisses the crown of Chuuya’s head, inhaling the mix of vanilla and coconut of the omega’s conditioner and pheromones.
“This is not fair,’ he mumbles. “How are you so patient with me?”
Slowly, Dazai leans forward.
He kisses the crown of Chuuya’s head, inhaling the mix of vanilla and coconut of the omega’s conditioner and pheromones.
Then, relaxing his grip around the other, Dazai guides Chuuya away from his side — his lips go to Chuuya’s eyelashes, his cheeks, the tip of his nose.
“I made you cry only a week ago, sweetheart. It’s /you/ who are bearing with me.”
“That’s not true,” Chuuya says.
“I made you cry only a week ago, sweetheart. It’s /you/ who are bearing with me.”
“That’s not true,” Chuuya says.
The alpha’s mouth lingers on Chuuya’s chin, on the chiseled line of his jaw.
Gosh, he’d /really/ like to mark him, now.
But he can’t, though he’s growing impatient lately.
“…‘Samu?”
The call almost gets lost in the drumming of their mixed heartbeas — /almost/.
Gosh, he’d /really/ like to mark him, now.
But he can’t, though he’s growing impatient lately.
“…‘Samu?”
The call almost gets lost in the drumming of their mixed heartbeas — /almost/.
Dazai holds his breath.
It sounds so sheepish, apologetic, and so /damn/ alluring.
“Can you kiss me?”
Which is the way Chuuya has been asking him — without /really/ asking — to have sex.
And—
Well.
Mapping every inch of the omega’s body in Chuuya’s old bedroom?
It sounds so sheepish, apologetic, and so /damn/ alluring.
“Can you kiss me?”
Which is the way Chuuya has been asking him — without /really/ asking — to have sex.
And—
Well.
Mapping every inch of the omega’s body in Chuuya’s old bedroom?
Leaving bites and scratches that are there, invisible to anyone but him, right under the eyes of Chuuya’s family?
Adding /his/ presence to the memories that compose the unique scent of the room?
Being a door away from the risk of getting caught?
It /does/ turn Dazai on.
Adding /his/ presence to the memories that compose the unique scent of the room?
Being a door away from the risk of getting caught?
It /does/ turn Dazai on.
“Yes,” he murmurs.
/Yes./
Chuuya appears /feverish/, eyes glistening as his body seems to come alive with that simple word.
Want swells in Dazai’s lungs like a wave, roaring.
Chuuya rarely looks vulnerable, with flushed cheeks and parted lips and need overflowing in his
/Yes./
Chuuya appears /feverish/, eyes glistening as his body seems to come alive with that simple word.
Want swells in Dazai’s lungs like a wave, roaring.
Chuuya rarely looks vulnerable, with flushed cheeks and parted lips and need overflowing in his
scent and gestures.
Nakahara Chuuya doesn’t beg. He rarely ever /asks/ for intimacy.
He never seeks it actively — especially with someone else around.
/Kiss me/.
/Own me./
So, how could Dazai /refuse/?
He might be a genius, but he’s only human.
🙊 TW // NSFW 🙊
Nakahara Chuuya doesn’t beg. He rarely ever /asks/ for intimacy.
He never seeks it actively — especially with someone else around.
/Kiss me/.
/Own me./
So, how could Dazai /refuse/?
He might be a genius, but he’s only human.
🙊 TW // NSFW 🙊
The first thing Dazai does is to reach for the phone in his trousers pocket, scrolling through the apps.
His fingers find the path almost automatically.
Menu, music, playlist.
Acoustic covers.
The first note that folds out the phone’s speaker is mellow — a static noise
His fingers find the path almost automatically.
Menu, music, playlist.
Acoustic covers.
The first note that folds out the phone’s speaker is mellow — a static noise
like a vintage radio, and a piano and a gritty voice that scrapes the otherwise imperfect silence.
He’s not a fan of background music, Dazai.
He'd rather hear every tiny moan, every broken sob.
He doesn’t /need/ music to create an atmosphere, never did.
He’s not a fan of background music, Dazai.
He'd rather hear every tiny moan, every broken sob.
He doesn’t /need/ music to create an atmosphere, never did.
But he’s also not entirely comfortable with hearing other people as they roam around the house, stepping up and down the corridors.
/Especially/ since it's Chuuya's family.
The bed doesn’t seem necessarily loud, but the alpha would rather avoid embarrassing Chuuya for nothing.
/Especially/ since it's Chuuya's family.
The bed doesn’t seem necessarily loud, but the alpha would rather avoid embarrassing Chuuya for nothing.
“Is this playlist ok?” Dazai asks, glancing at Chuuya.
The omega flashes him a tiny smile.
“Yeah. I don’t care.” He leans in, one hand resting on the back of Dazai’s neck. "I really, /really/-" He moves close, and closer, until his lips brush the alpha’s mouth. "/Don't/ care."
The omega flashes him a tiny smile.
“Yeah. I don’t care.” He leans in, one hand resting on the back of Dazai’s neck. "I really, /really/-" He moves close, and closer, until his lips brush the alpha’s mouth. "/Don't/ care."
Good, Dazai thinks. It’s good that Chuuya doesn’t care, because neither does he.
Music is just a wall to have Chuuya all to himself — even if it's just a moment of fleeting peace.
Only them and a world that will never be able to cross the door of Chuuya’s bedroom.
Music is just a wall to have Chuuya all to himself — even if it's just a moment of fleeting peace.
Only them and a world that will never be able to cross the door of Chuuya’s bedroom.
And, as he lets himself be carried away in Chuuya's kiss, Dazai drops the phone on the mattress and /forgets/ about it.
Something in him — an ancestral /alpha/ instinct, perhaps — dictates the pace of every caress, of every lick and gentle bite.
Slow; pampering. /Reassuring/.
Something in him — an ancestral /alpha/ instinct, perhaps — dictates the pace of every caress, of every lick and gentle bite.
Slow; pampering. /Reassuring/.
His hands roam above Chuuya’s sweater as if to relish in the last drops of innocence as it fades away, as the touches grow hungrier.
//I don’t know. I hope not//.
That’s not the answer Dazai wanted, but it’s what /Chuuya/ feels. And he’d lie if he said that he didn’t have his
//I don’t know. I hope not//.
That’s not the answer Dazai wanted, but it’s what /Chuuya/ feels. And he’d lie if he said that he didn’t have his
fair share of blame in that. He didn't exactly make it easy for the redhead to believe him.
But now—
He can /change/.
Slowly, the alpha pulls away.
He still lingers close for a moment, nose against Chuuya's nose, lips tingling, brain fighting against the interruption.
But now—
He can /change/.
Slowly, the alpha pulls away.
He still lingers close for a moment, nose against Chuuya's nose, lips tingling, brain fighting against the interruption.
But he has a /plan/.
So Dazai straightens up and hops off the bed, standing in front of Chuuya.
Towering over him, almost.
He gains some space between the omega's knees, Chuuya's lithe legs dangling off the bed while his upper half remains comfortably settled on the matress.
So Dazai straightens up and hops off the bed, standing in front of Chuuya.
Towering over him, almost.
He gains some space between the omega's knees, Chuuya's lithe legs dangling off the bed while his upper half remains comfortably settled on the matress.
Copper-red hair opens like a halo over the sheets, framing Chuuya's face.
It's a /glorious/ view. Heart-stopping.
Dazai shakes his head when Chuuya scowls and tries to follow him, gently pressing his open palm on Chuuya's thigh.
“Stay there,” he murmurs.
It's a /glorious/ view. Heart-stopping.
Dazai shakes his head when Chuuya scowls and tries to follow him, gently pressing his open palm on Chuuya's thigh.
“Stay there,” he murmurs.
Chuuya obeys, flinching slightly when Dazai’s hands reach for his legs — grazing his ankles, then the gracious curve of his instep.
First, he gets rid of Chuuya's socks.
Then, sweatpants and underwear — hooking his fingers to the fabric and slowly tugging the clothing down.
First, he gets rid of Chuuya's socks.
Then, sweatpants and underwear — hooking his fingers to the fabric and slowly tugging the clothing down.
Chuuya inhales.
“What are you doing…?”
“Proving a point,” Dazai drawls.
His fingers flutter across Chuuya’s skin, which bloomed in goosebumps once uncovered. He caresses the shapely legs, the thighs and bony knees, making sure to map every freckle, every blue-ish vein.
“What are you doing…?”
“Proving a point,” Dazai drawls.
His fingers flutter across Chuuya’s skin, which bloomed in goosebumps once uncovered. He caresses the shapely legs, the thighs and bony knees, making sure to map every freckle, every blue-ish vein.
Every note of the music -- Dazai isn't /hating/ it, for a change -- settles in the silence, rising like dust.
It overpowers the rustle of the clothes and the occasional sigh.
With every inch of flesh uncovered, Dazai feels himself growing harder in his slacks.
It overpowers the rustle of the clothes and the occasional sigh.
With every inch of flesh uncovered, Dazai feels himself growing harder in his slacks.
Chuuya’s gaze flickers up, a sigh rolling out of his lips.
He helps Dazai getting him out of his sweater, which is oversized and shapeless enough to make it easy to get rid of it.
Dazai tosses it to the ground with one hand, movements /slow/ and measured. He's still guided
He helps Dazai getting him out of his sweater, which is oversized and shapeless enough to make it easy to get rid of it.
Dazai tosses it to the ground with one hand, movements /slow/ and measured. He's still guided
by that instinct that whispers to him to be /protective/ -- to not let his omega go, ever.
(Because what is an alpha, really, without an omega? What's an end without a beginning?
Strength without meekness?
What is /he/ without /Chuuya/?
Nothing.
He's fucking nothing.)
(Because what is an alpha, really, without an omega? What's an end without a beginning?
Strength without meekness?
What is /he/ without /Chuuya/?
Nothing.
He's fucking nothing.)
With the other hand, he palms Chuuya’s stomach -- the smooth valley of his torso and the curves of his shoulders.
He bends to take a nipple between his teeth.
Chuuya flinches, hands grasping Dazai’s arms through the shirt.
An 'oh' is born and dies on the redhead's lips, lost.
He bends to take a nipple between his teeth.
Chuuya flinches, hands grasping Dazai’s arms through the shirt.
An 'oh' is born and dies on the redhead's lips, lost.
Dazai doesn't stop.
He blows on the responsive skin, coaxing a moan out of Chuuya. That’s perfect, too.
He sucks on the nipple unhurriedly, licking on it until it turns turgid under his tongue — until Chuuya is squirming and grinding against him in lazy but /demanding/ tides.
He blows on the responsive skin, coaxing a moan out of Chuuya. That’s perfect, too.
He sucks on the nipple unhurriedly, licking on it until it turns turgid under his tongue — until Chuuya is squirming and grinding against him in lazy but /demanding/ tides.
Only then Dazai considers himself satisfied.
He smiles, and skims his lips across the hard line of the omega’s collarbone. His hands comb through Chuuya’s hair.
He’s weighing over Chuuya, covering him like a /blanket/, burying him in lazy caresses and searing kisses.
He smiles, and skims his lips across the hard line of the omega’s collarbone. His hands comb through Chuuya’s hair.
He’s weighing over Chuuya, covering him like a /blanket/, burying him in lazy caresses and searing kisses.
He leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses, his pants rubbing against the omega’s naked body.
It leaves on the fabric traces of slick that neither of them notices.
He’s seen his fair share of naked people, but no one is capable to make his stomach drop like Chuuya does.
It leaves on the fabric traces of slick that neither of them notices.
He’s seen his fair share of naked people, but no one is capable to make his stomach drop like Chuuya does.
Dazai lifts himself up to carry on with his mission to make all of Chuuya feel /seen/ and—
Chuuya’s eyelashes flutter, his eyes blue and clear and wide with /amazement/.
Suddenly, Dazai has been pushed off the Cosmo Clock 21.
He’s broken down to pieces.
He’s falling again.
Chuuya’s eyelashes flutter, his eyes blue and clear and wide with /amazement/.
Suddenly, Dazai has been pushed off the Cosmo Clock 21.
He’s broken down to pieces.
He’s falling again.
And Chuuya clearly can’t quite decide if this is teasing or foreplay or just a very embarrassing and dragged-out joke, but, really—
How can Dazai explain that this is /worshipping/?
How can Dazai explain that this is /worshipping/?
Because having Chuuya like /this/, exposed and beautiful and just a little taken aback, is something Dazai still can’t get enough of.
Without breaking eye contact, Dazai unzips his own trousers and steps out of them.
His underwear slides down his legs as he’s unbuttoning
Without breaking eye contact, Dazai unzips his own trousers and steps out of them.
His underwear slides down his legs as he’s unbuttoning
his shirt, swift movements that lost all the care they had while he touched Chuuya.
(He doesn’t need it with himself.)
He’s still wearing his open shirt as he bends over the redhead.
The front panels cover Chuuya like a curtain, soft cotton caressing the omega’s sides.
(He doesn’t need it with himself.)
He’s still wearing his open shirt as he bends over the redhead.
The front panels cover Chuuya like a curtain, soft cotton caressing the omega’s sides.
He’s careful, though, as he climbs on top of Chuuya.
Finally, his brain cries, /finally/.
The mattress creaks as Dazai’s shins sink in it — a lone cry that, for a second, pierces the veil of a new song that started playing from Dazai’s phone.
But he barely notices it, because
Finally, his brain cries, /finally/.
The mattress creaks as Dazai’s shins sink in it — a lone cry that, for a second, pierces the veil of a new song that started playing from Dazai’s phone.
But he barely notices it, because
Chuuya has already thrown his arms around his neck; he tilted his hips /up/, enclosed between Dazai’s legs.
Chuuya’s mouth captures his in a kiss that sears like a bruise, spreading like fire. It’s hardly a kiss at all — it’s /greed/, and need, and yet languid at the same time.
Chuuya’s mouth captures his in a kiss that sears like a bruise, spreading like fire. It’s hardly a kiss at all — it’s /greed/, and need, and yet languid at the same time.
A scorching shiver propagates under their skin, making them both hiss as Dazai rubs the head of his cock against Chuuya’s stomach.
But Chuuya’s skin— that’s quickly turning colder.
“Are you cold?” Dazai murmurs against Chuuya’s lips, gaze roaming over the omega’s face.
But Chuuya’s skin— that’s quickly turning colder.
“Are you cold?” Dazai murmurs against Chuuya’s lips, gaze roaming over the omega’s face.
Chuuya blinks — lush and gone and out of focus.
It takes him a handful of seconds to realize the question.
“A little,” he says.
He clings to Dazai’s shoulders, nails digging in the collar of his shirt.
Now, Dazai might offer to tuck them both under a blanket. He could
It takes him a handful of seconds to realize the question.
“A little,” he says.
He clings to Dazai’s shoulders, nails digging in the collar of his shirt.
Now, Dazai might offer to tuck them both under a blanket. He could
propose to move under the covers.
He could at least attempt to be chivalrous.
But he /can/ be selfish, now, right?
He /can/ have Chuuya wear /his/ shirt and still be mostly naked under him, right?
It’s a win/win.
(And… ok, Dazai has been /waiting/ for this to happen.)
He could at least attempt to be chivalrous.
But he /can/ be selfish, now, right?
He /can/ have Chuuya wear /his/ shirt and still be mostly naked under him, right?
It’s a win/win.
(And… ok, Dazai has been /waiting/ for this to happen.)
The bandages, however itchy, keep him warm most of the time. In summer is mostly a curse, to be honest.
He doesn’t like to stay exposed outside his apartment, sure, but he still has the gauze on. He doesn’t need more.
So…
“Wear this,” he says, sliding the shirt off his arms.
He doesn’t like to stay exposed outside his apartment, sure, but he still has the gauze on. He doesn’t need more.
So…
“Wear this,” he says, sliding the shirt off his arms.
/It fits Chuuya better anyway./
Chuuya’s eyes widen, but he accepts the offer.
(Dazai absolutely doesn’t rejoice.
Oh no. He did it only for /Chuuya/. Obviously.)
The omega wears it carefully, hands disappearing in the cuffs. The involuntary friction between their bodies as
Chuuya’s eyes widen, but he accepts the offer.
(Dazai absolutely doesn’t rejoice.
Oh no. He did it only for /Chuuya/. Obviously.)
The omega wears it carefully, hands disappearing in the cuffs. The involuntary friction between their bodies as
Chuuya lifts his upper half to clothe himself with the shirt makes them both /wince/.
It’s then that Dazai, the genius, the schemer, realizes he fucked up.
Because Chuuya /swims/ in his shirt.
Because he’s stealing every inch of the alpha’s sanity and he /knows/ it.
It’s then that Dazai, the genius, the schemer, realizes he fucked up.
Because Chuuya /swims/ in his shirt.
Because he’s stealing every inch of the alpha’s sanity and he /knows/ it.
The collar of the shirt brushes the redhead’s skin, cotton as white as snow against the blood-red strands.
Under his breath, Chuuya mutters a ‘thank you’ that betrays how /conscious/ the omega is of his appearance.
Dazai can’t bring himself to reply, though, tongue
Under his breath, Chuuya mutters a ‘thank you’ that betrays how /conscious/ the omega is of his appearance.
Dazai can’t bring himself to reply, though, tongue
glued to the roof of his mouth, speechless with awe.
His cock twitches almost in /retaliation/ to the view.
As if it’s his damn fault that Chuuya might make him cum just by standing /there/ and wearing /his/ clothes and nothing else.
His cock twitches almost in /retaliation/ to the view.
As if it’s his damn fault that Chuuya might make him cum just by standing /there/ and wearing /his/ clothes and nothing else.
He is so /beautiful/, Chuuya.
Something in the omega — in the perfect curve of his neck, in his legs, in how the fabric of Dazai’s open shirt pools at his sides and how it softly falls down his sides — is utter /light/.
It’s holier than the grounds they’re on.
Something in the omega — in the perfect curve of his neck, in his legs, in how the fabric of Dazai’s open shirt pools at his sides and how it softly falls down his sides — is utter /light/.
It’s holier than the grounds they’re on.
Dazai doesn’t realize he’s been staring like a fool until Chuuya puckers.
He glances up to meet Dazai’s gaze, not daring to move, a question in his eyes.
Only a blush graces his cheeks.
“What?” The omega mutters, voice hesitant. “Is there something weird on my face?”
He glances up to meet Dazai’s gaze, not daring to move, a question in his eyes.
Only a blush graces his cheeks.
“What?” The omega mutters, voice hesitant. “Is there something weird on my face?”
Dazai swallows, trying to push down all the emotions that are strangling him.
There is /definitely/ something odd with the situation, he’s not an /idiot/, but… his mind? His mind simply refuses to linger on it.
Because you don’t /think/ when you have a masterpiece under you.
There is /definitely/ something odd with the situation, he’s not an /idiot/, but… his mind? His mind simply refuses to linger on it.
Because you don’t /think/ when you have a masterpiece under you.
Dazai’s body, though, finally reacts with the gentle nudge of Chuuya’s question.
He rocks his hips against Chuuya’s body, seeking friction.
“Nothing,” he murmurs, barely higher than the music, sinking his nose in the crook of Chuuya’s neck. “I could just look at you forever.”
He rocks his hips against Chuuya’s body, seeking friction.
“Nothing,” he murmurs, barely higher than the music, sinking his nose in the crook of Chuuya’s neck. “I could just look at you forever.”
His words roll over Chuuya’s skin like satin, making the redhead shiver.
They are followed by kisses — dry, light, dragged down the column of Chuuya’s neck.
Pushing away the collar of the shirt, Dazai kisses the pulse point, feeling the vein throb under his mouth.
They are followed by kisses — dry, light, dragged down the column of Chuuya’s neck.
Pushing away the collar of the shirt, Dazai kisses the pulse point, feeling the vein throb under his mouth.
He grinds against the omega — /slow/ and /deep/, still following his instinct, taking his time to make it last.
The tip of his nose brushes against the scent glands on Chuuya’s neck, feeling them swollen and /sensitive/.
The protest Chuuya has been loading — something
The tip of his nose brushes against the scent glands on Chuuya’s neck, feeling them swollen and /sensitive/.
The protest Chuuya has been loading — something
self-deprecating, no doubt — dies in the back of his throat with a faltering pant.
It washes away with another deep jolt of Dazai’s hips, with the scraping of their erections, with the delicious warmth that pools in their stomachs with every skin-on-skin caress.
It washes away with another deep jolt of Dazai’s hips, with the scraping of their erections, with the delicious warmth that pools in their stomachs with every skin-on-skin caress.
It’s not the quick, storm-like kind of build up. It’s not the wild grinding that makes Dazai chasing the orgasm.
It’s deliberately slow and spun out. Something is soaring in Dazai, sure, but /quietly/.
Desire /tiptoes/ in.
It’s like making love in the morning, half-awake.
It’s deliberately slow and spun out. Something is soaring in Dazai, sure, but /quietly/.
Desire /tiptoes/ in.
It’s like making love in the morning, half-awake.
Damp traces of precum and slick spread across their bellies, bodies pressing together and dicks trapped in between them.
Dazai’s blood sing every time his cock rubs against Chuuya’s.
The wet sounds, the bit-back moans, Chuuya’s hands on him, the music carrying him away.
Dazai’s blood sing every time his cock rubs against Chuuya’s.
The wet sounds, the bit-back moans, Chuuya’s hands on him, the music carrying him away.
The omega bends in search for contact, tilting his pelvis up.
He curves so lavishly that Dazai can’t but enclose the bridge of Chuuya’s hips in his hands, pressing him closer.
He’s so /tiny/, Dazai can cover his whole back with his hands.
It wears away his /control/.
He curves so lavishly that Dazai can’t but enclose the bridge of Chuuya’s hips in his hands, pressing him closer.
He’s so /tiny/, Dazai can cover his whole back with his hands.
It wears away his /control/.
It’s languid, almost /lethargic/, the way the omega leans in and reaches out to rub himself against Dazai.
He nibbles at Chuuya’s neck, tongue lapping in circles, laving the teeth marks in spit.
It’s not a bond mark, but it’s— wishful.
It’s a ‘one day’.
He nibbles at Chuuya’s neck, tongue lapping in circles, laving the teeth marks in spit.
It’s not a bond mark, but it’s— wishful.
It’s a ‘one day’.
It’s a taste of something future, and it’s matched with Dazai’s hand slithering between their bodies, grasping Chuuya’s dick and giving it a firm pump.
It’s an act of reckless courage, to make Chuuya moan like that.
To bite him in a way he /knew/ Chuuya wouldn’t be able to
It’s an act of reckless courage, to make Chuuya moan like that.
To bite him in a way he /knew/ Chuuya wouldn’t be able to
swallow back the noises, to have his thumb trace circles over the wet, reddened tip of Chuuya’s dick—
/it’s all asking to be caught./
But Dazai doesn’t regret it one bit, not when Chuuya comes undone under his touches.
Not when Chuuya arches again, rutting in his fist.
/it’s all asking to be caught./
But Dazai doesn’t regret it one bit, not when Chuuya comes undone under his touches.
Not when Chuuya arches again, rutting in his fist.
The change of pace, although /subtle/, makes them both whimper.
Chuuya is so /responsive/.
// Mine. //
And Dazai finds himself wanting more.
Maybe it’s Chuuya’s nails digging in his shoulder blades, traveling down his spine, occasionally tripping over the white gauze.
Chuuya is so /responsive/.
// Mine. //
And Dazai finds himself wanting more.
Maybe it’s Chuuya’s nails digging in his shoulder blades, traveling down his spine, occasionally tripping over the white gauze.
Maybe he’s still not over how good Chuuya looks in his shirt.
Maybe it’s how Chuuya’s hips snap as he fucks himself in the alpha’s hand.
Maybe it’s the arousal and the music and the memories and the /peace/.
Maybe it’s the fuzzy feeling roiling in Dazai’s guts, awakened by
Maybe it’s how Chuuya’s hips snap as he fucks himself in the alpha’s hand.
Maybe it’s the arousal and the music and the memories and the /peace/.
Maybe it’s the fuzzy feeling roiling in Dazai’s guts, awakened by
Chuuya’s touches.
// I’m happy because you make me happy. //
Chuuya sighs.
// I won’t leave. //
The bulge of Dazai’s knot makes Chuuya /yelp/ as it grinds against the omega’s flat stomach.
The alpha’s hand coaxes deaf moans out of him.
Then a creak, like old hinges.
// I’m happy because you make me happy. //
Chuuya sighs.
// I won’t leave. //
The bulge of Dazai’s knot makes Chuuya /yelp/ as it grinds against the omega’s flat stomach.
The alpha’s hand coaxes deaf moans out of him.
Then a creak, like old hinges.
It might be the music, or the bed, and Dazai doesn’t even pay it any /mind/.
// Which— //
“Chuuya? Mum’s been c—”
Then, somebody slamming the door close.
// Which is a big damn mistake //
What did they say? Chuuya’s Ane-san approved of him?
Well. Not anymore, /clearly/.
// Which— //
“Chuuya? Mum’s been c—”
Then, somebody slamming the door close.
// Which is a big damn mistake //
What did they say? Chuuya’s Ane-san approved of him?
Well. Not anymore, /clearly/.
And that is the exact moment Nakahara Chuuya wishes he were /dead/.
He has no idea if they didn’t hear her footsteps in a haze, if the music really was /that/ loud or if his sister turned into a goddamn ghost.
The ajar door stares back at him almost /mockingly/.
He has no idea if they didn’t hear her footsteps in a haze, if the music really was /that/ loud or if his sister turned into a goddamn ghost.
The ajar door stares back at him almost /mockingly/.
Even worse, Dazai abruptly lets him go and it’s like Chuuya’s dick starts a /mutiny/.
The pre-heat makes him want to cry.
He’s suddenly aware that he’s /naked/ under Dazai, and they need to /learn/ to keep some things /private/ but—
but his pre-heat is making him /stupid/.
The pre-heat makes him want to cry.
He’s suddenly aware that he’s /naked/ under Dazai, and they need to /learn/ to keep some things /private/ but—
but his pre-heat is making him /stupid/.
Or maybe he’s just a horny idiot.
One praying for the earth to swallow him whole.
“I didn’t see anything!”
/That/ is the first thing Kouyou screams.
Which— ok, it’s /something/. It’s not even the first time Kouyou walks in on him and someone.
Dazai looks mortified, though.
One praying for the earth to swallow him whole.
“I didn’t see anything!”
/That/ is the first thing Kouyou screams.
Which— ok, it’s /something/. It’s not even the first time Kouyou walks in on him and someone.
Dazai looks mortified, though.
The alpha’s complexion turned dull, and he seems about to retch for the anxiety.
“Oh my god,” he wails.
“Sorry!” Kouyou says from the corridor “I thought you were /asleep/!”
“Then fucking knock!” Chuuya cries, voice strangled.
“I /did/! Close the damn door, will you?”
“Oh my god,” he wails.
“Sorry!” Kouyou says from the corridor “I thought you were /asleep/!”
“Then fucking knock!” Chuuya cries, voice strangled.
“I /did/! Close the damn door, will you?”
“It /was/ closed.”
“Er, no it wasn’t!?”
Chuuya’s blood turns to ice. Dazai goes /rigid/ too, still hovering over him.
Chuuya can pinpoint the exact moment the brunet realizes neither of them cared to check the door, too carried away by their conversation and what followed.
“Er, no it wasn’t!?”
Chuuya’s blood turns to ice. Dazai goes /rigid/ too, still hovering over him.
Chuuya can pinpoint the exact moment the brunet realizes neither of them cared to check the door, too carried away by their conversation and what followed.
They thought of the goddamn music, and not the door.
See? Pre-heat.
Making Chuuya careless and just straight up stupid since God-knows-when.
“Just /leave/,” Chuuya begs.
“Gladly.”
The disgust that seeps through the cracks of Kouyou’s voice is mild, though — /mocking/.
See? Pre-heat.
Making Chuuya careless and just straight up stupid since God-knows-when.
“Just /leave/,” Chuuya begs.
“Gladly.”
The disgust that seeps through the cracks of Kouyou’s voice is mild, though — /mocking/.
It’s not disgust at all, if one listens closely — it’s /amusement/. She is /never/ going to let him live this down. “Come downstairs, both of you. Dressed, possibly.”
// He’s ruined. //
At least, Chuuya supposes, nobody is going to crucify Dazai for helping him with a pre-heat
// He’s ruined. //
At least, Chuuya supposes, nobody is going to crucify Dazai for helping him with a pre-heat
his entire family tree has already sensed on him.
…Or so he hopes.
And it’s only the first damn day.
“Yeah.”
“Chop chop,” Kouyou adds, clapping, her voice growing muffled as she walks away. “Mum was calling.” A pause. “And take the blockers.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes.
…Or so he hopes.
And it’s only the first damn day.
“Yeah.”
“Chop chop,” Kouyou adds, clapping, her voice growing muffled as she walks away. “Mum was calling.” A pause. “And take the blockers.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes.
Dazai lets out a exhale. “Why does this keep happening?”
“Hell if I know.”
Well.
Maybe they should learn the noble art of being /respectful/ and keep their hands off each other when there are other people around.
“The door,” Dazai murmurs.
“Yes.”
“We’re stupid.”
“/Yes/.”
“Hell if I know.”
Well.
Maybe they should learn the noble art of being /respectful/ and keep their hands off each other when there are other people around.
“The door,” Dazai murmurs.
“Yes.”
“We’re stupid.”
“/Yes/.”
As he watches Dazai roll off of him in silence and reach for the phone, stopping the music, Chuuya ponders on their misfortune.
He /definitely/ has to take the scent blockers, because he’s reeking of /sex/.
Under the new circumstances, the lack of privacy lost all the appeal.
He /definitely/ has to take the scent blockers, because he’s reeking of /sex/.
Under the new circumstances, the lack of privacy lost all the appeal.
And—
Chuuya’s eyes fall on Dazai’s knot, softening by the minute and turning less visible.
Frustration bubbles in him.
“Are you ok with holding that thought?” he hums, quirking an eyebrow.
“Are /you/?” Dazai replies, eyes darkened.
/No./
He’s not ok with it, but the only
Chuuya’s eyes fall on Dazai’s knot, softening by the minute and turning less visible.
Frustration bubbles in him.
“Are you ok with holding that thought?” he hums, quirking an eyebrow.
“Are /you/?” Dazai replies, eyes darkened.
/No./
He’s not ok with it, but the only
thing he can do is to bite his bottom lip. He closes himself in Dazai’s shirt
“I’m keeping this.”
It sounds /bratty/.
“It’s yours, Chibi.” The ghost of a grin curls his lips. “But I don’t want your family to think I tainted their precious son.”
“Might be a bit late for that.”
“I’m keeping this.”
It sounds /bratty/.
“It’s yours, Chibi.” The ghost of a grin curls his lips. “But I don’t want your family to think I tainted their precious son.”
“Might be a bit late for that.”
But it’s never too late for /regrets/.
Chuuya knows it well.
He’s been stupid.
Idiot.
Careless.
He regrets letting go. Oh, God, he does.
He mulls over it while he and Dazai get dressed — he keeps Dazai’s shirt, wearing it over a pair of jeans, basking in its scent that
Chuuya knows it well.
He’s been stupid.
Idiot.
Careless.
He regrets letting go. Oh, God, he does.
He mulls over it while he and Dazai get dressed — he keeps Dazai’s shirt, wearing it over a pair of jeans, basking in its scent that
cloaks him like an armor.
Dazai, in turn, fetches an oversized sweater from his bag.
You see, /regrets/ are stubborn companions.
They fill Chuuya’s silence, easily mistakable for embarrassment.
They follow him downstairs.
And, once again, Chuuya’s head is spinning.
Dazai, in turn, fetches an oversized sweater from his bag.
You see, /regrets/ are stubborn companions.
They fill Chuuya’s silence, easily mistakable for embarrassment.
They follow him downstairs.
And, once again, Chuuya’s head is spinning.
The cramps took over his body again as soon as Dazai stopped touching him, clasping his stomach and nosediving his temperature.
But the thing is—
Heat means instinct.
Pre-heat means /imbalance/.
It’s shame and pain and need amplified, mind /and/ body sent into overdrive.
But the thing is—
Heat means instinct.
Pre-heat means /imbalance/.
It’s shame and pain and need amplified, mind /and/ body sent into overdrive.
It’s feeling painfully awake and yet tired, with a deaf, mind-blowing need building inside of you like a storm.
And he doesn’t really have an appetite either, but Chuuya is aware that he /can’t/ skip the first meal home.
The omega managed to swallow a painkiller and a heat
And he doesn’t really have an appetite either, but Chuuya is aware that he /can’t/ skip the first meal home.
The omega managed to swallow a painkiller and a heat
blocker in the bathroom, gulping them down dry, but he’s restless.
When Dazai is not touching him, he’s plunged in ice water.
He’s freezing.
And, even though the alpha is sitting right next to him, the distance makes him sleepy.
Even lifting the chopsticks is a /chore/.
When Dazai is not touching him, he’s plunged in ice water.
He’s freezing.
And, even though the alpha is sitting right next to him, the distance makes him sleepy.
Even lifting the chopsticks is a /chore/.
This is not good, Chuuya thinks, playing with a piece of chicken in his plate.
He usually loves his mother’s curry, but he’s also letting his— /situation/ undermine his control.
What happened with Kouyou just goes to show how /careless/ he’s getting.
And if he’s honest…
He usually loves his mother’s curry, but he’s also letting his— /situation/ undermine his control.
What happened with Kouyou just goes to show how /careless/ he’s getting.
And if he’s honest…
He’s terrified.
Rationally, he could tell Dazai.
He could tell him everything.
Dazai is right /here/, and he loves him — Chuuya knows he loves him. But… /does/ he? — and would make it stop.
But he can’t.
/ What will Dazai do? /
He’s stuck on that, silent and trapped.
Rationally, he could tell Dazai.
He could tell him everything.
Dazai is right /here/, and he loves him — Chuuya knows he loves him. But… /does/ he? — and would make it stop.
But he can’t.
/ What will Dazai do? /
He’s stuck on that, silent and trapped.
Regrets are stubborn, but silence is /loyal/.
And every moment Chuuya waits, every ‘hey, I need help’ he gulps down, makes it a little harder to talk.
Until he knows he won’t talk at all — because he never fucking does.
And it’s /irrational/, but it stops him all the same.
And every moment Chuuya waits, every ‘hey, I need help’ he gulps down, makes it a little harder to talk.
Until he knows he won’t talk at all — because he never fucking does.
And it’s /irrational/, but it stops him all the same.
And, ignoring the conversation at the dinner table, Chuuya can’t but think that Heats are a /trade/ he’ll never win.
// ‘What do you mean, *no*? Now!?’ //
An alpha would get him through it, but—
// ‘Seriously?!’ //
He’s asking too much.
// ‘You’re fucking selfish.’ //
// ‘What do you mean, *no*? Now!?’ //
An alpha would get him through it, but—
// ‘Seriously?!’ //
He’s asking too much.
// ‘You’re fucking selfish.’ //
Because his heats are the times when Chuuya has been abandoned the most.
// ‘/You/ wanted it.’ //
He’s supposed to want /all/ of it, all the way. It’s biology. It’s nature.
Only, his body begs to differ
As he tries to force down a mouthful of curry, it all tastes like sand.
// ‘/You/ wanted it.’ //
He’s supposed to want /all/ of it, all the way. It’s biology. It’s nature.
Only, his body begs to differ
As he tries to force down a mouthful of curry, it all tastes like sand.
// ‘Can’t you just try to be /normal/?’ //
So really— how can he /risk/ Dazai?
// ‘You ruined it.’ //
He doesn’t want Dazai to think he’s selfish. He doesn’t want Dazai to /hate/ him, too.
So, no; his pre-heat is his problem.
He just needs to be more careful.
So really— how can he /risk/ Dazai?
// ‘You ruined it.’ //
He doesn’t want Dazai to think he’s selfish. He doesn’t want Dazai to /hate/ him, too.
So, no; his pre-heat is his problem.
He just needs to be more careful.
He doesn’t want Dazai to be disappointed when he’ll beg the alpha to knot him, only to take it back right before it happens.
And Chuuya’s body aches to reach for Dazai, but his fist closes on the chopsticks until they dig into his fingers.
He focuses back on the conversation.
And Chuuya’s body aches to reach for Dazai, but his fist closes on the chopsticks until they dig into his fingers.
He focuses back on the conversation.
“How are you parents, Dazai-kun?” Is the first thing he hears, sharp like a bullet.
Chuuya blinks.
/Wow. Uncle Arthur went for the kill./
He definitely returned to earth at the damn right time.
Chuuya /did/ mention to avoid personal questions, but of course nobody listened
Chuuya blinks.
/Wow. Uncle Arthur went for the kill./
He definitely returned to earth at the damn right time.
Chuuya /did/ mention to avoid personal questions, but of course nobody listened
He glances at Dazai, at his serene smile as he gracefully borrows time with a spoonful of curry.
He knows the alpha enough to recognize a polite mask when he sees one, though.
“They are…” Dazai clears his voice. “Not exactly in the picture.”
He knows the alpha enough to recognize a polite mask when he sees one, though.
“They are…” Dazai clears his voice. “Not exactly in the picture.”
It’s a gentle begin, Chuuya can tell.
And he also sees that his mother elbowed Arthur in the ribs under the table, considering from the way the man flinched.
Just for good measure, next to his husband, Paul scoots away too.
Now, Nakahara Fuku surely can make you regret /ever/
And he also sees that his mother elbowed Arthur in the ribs under the table, considering from the way the man flinched.
Just for good measure, next to his husband, Paul scoots away too.
Now, Nakahara Fuku surely can make you regret /ever/
speaking.
She’s sitting in between Arthur and Chuuya’s father. His parents’ scents intertwine so firmly that the omega struggles to separate them.
He would say they are the same person, just based on their scents.
It’s the kind of relationship he always wanted for himself.
She’s sitting in between Arthur and Chuuya’s father. His parents’ scents intertwine so firmly that the omega struggles to separate them.
He would say they are the same person, just based on their scents.
It’s the kind of relationship he always wanted for himself.
Yet, they are also polar opposites: his mum’s figure stands thin and lithe, his dad’s broad and imposing.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “If you need, come to us. You’re family now.”
Dazai bows his head. It’s /unfair/ that he can’t know how Chuuya’s heart hiccups.
“I appreciate it.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “If you need, come to us. You’re family now.”
Dazai bows his head. It’s /unfair/ that he can’t know how Chuuya’s heart hiccups.
“I appreciate it.”
“And you study, right?” Paul chimes in, elegantly waving his chopsticks in Dazai’s direction. “Literature, yes? Chuuya says you’re the best in you department.”
“Well…”
“He’s super smart,” Chuuya says, munching on a bite. “Don’t let him say otherwise.”
“Chibi, you think so~?”
“Well…”
“He’s super smart,” Chuuya says, munching on a bite. “Don’t let him say otherwise.”
“Chibi, you think so~?”
“Hah? Of course I do!” he barks, turning to face a beaming Dazai. If it wasn’t for his family and pre-heat, Chuuya would be /hollering/. “And what’s with the sing-song voice again, Bandages? You know I’m proud of you!”
“Ah, Chu-u-ya is making me blush~”
“W— Stop acting creepy!”
“Ah, Chu-u-ya is making me blush~”
“W— Stop acting creepy!”
The change from the put-together, polite, /cold/ young alpha to boyish student is almost scary.
It’s like flipping a switch.
(Who is the real one?)
But it also makes Chuuya’s father /laugh/, at least, the embarrassment from before wiped away by the man’s heartily chuckle.
It’s like flipping a switch.
(Who is the real one?)
But it also makes Chuuya’s father /laugh/, at least, the embarrassment from before wiped away by the man’s heartily chuckle.
“You better find a good job and earn enough, boy, because my son takes his taste in clothes after his uncles,” Chuuya’s father chuckles. “Expensive.”
“I have a /job/?” Chuuya wails.
At that, Paul blinks as if Chuuya has just said something in equal parts /obvious/ and offensive
“I have a /job/?” Chuuya wails.
At that, Paul blinks as if Chuuya has just said something in equal parts /obvious/ and offensive
“Your alpha should spoil you,” Paul clarifies, eyes jumping from Dazai to him.
His… /what/ now.
The definition - in front of Dazai, too! - turns Chuuya’s face into a wild fire.
“He’s n—”
“Good, I like to buy Chuuya presents!” Dazai interrupts, a little too enthusiastic.
His… /what/ now.
The definition - in front of Dazai, too! - turns Chuuya’s face into a wild fire.
“He’s n—”
“Good, I like to buy Chuuya presents!” Dazai interrupts, a little too enthusiastic.
“Don’t side with them!”
Dazai looks at him, owlishly. “But it’s true?”
With a deep sigh, Chuuya slumps back against the backrest of his chair. He loves his chick plushie, sure, but /why/ does he have to be the spoiled one?
It’s a /two way/ route.
“Whatever,” he mumbles.
Dazai looks at him, owlishly. “But it’s true?”
With a deep sigh, Chuuya slumps back against the backrest of his chair. He loves his chick plushie, sure, but /why/ does he have to be the spoiled one?
It’s a /two way/ route.
“Whatever,” he mumbles.
Kouyou shakes her head, her movements almost too /elegant/ for the predicament.
She outgrew their little town soon, Kouyou.
Sometimes, Chuuya wonders if he didn’t just copied his sister, hoping to be /like/ her.
“You are quite high maintenance, lad.”
He scrunches his nose.
She outgrew their little town soon, Kouyou.
Sometimes, Chuuya wonders if he didn’t just copied his sister, hoping to be /like/ her.
“You are quite high maintenance, lad.”
He scrunches his nose.
“Says /you/.”
“But I get Akiko pretty nice gifts too,” she drawls. “That’s what /mates/ do.”
…Mates.
The word sinks in him like a stone.
Ok. So she’s embarrassing him and making him pay for earlier, and that’s just /unfair/.
The thing is, their mother completely misses
“But I get Akiko pretty nice gifts too,” she drawls. “That’s what /mates/ do.”
…Mates.
The word sinks in him like a stone.
Ok. So she’s embarrassing him and making him pay for earlier, and that’s just /unfair/.
The thing is, their mother completely misses
the playful sarcasm lingering in Kouyou’s voice. She /glows/ up at the mention of a bond.
“Of course, dear, they didn’t talk about bonding, yet…” she says.
Which means: tell me I’m wrong.
Tell me you’ll have pups soon.
// Tell me you’re normal. //
Chuuya’s jaw /drops/.
“Of course, dear, they didn’t talk about bonding, yet…” she says.
Which means: tell me I’m wrong.
Tell me you’ll have pups soon.
// Tell me you’re normal. //
Chuuya’s jaw /drops/.
This is just plain invasive, is the first thing Chuuya’s brain provides.
The second one is: hell no.
“Of course not, mum,” he hisses, a dangerous edge in his voice. “Let’s stick to one shitty wedding, ok?”
He’s so mortified that the cramps mix with the irritation, sending ice
The second one is: hell no.
“Of course not, mum,” he hisses, a dangerous edge in his voice. “Let’s stick to one shitty wedding, ok?”
He’s so mortified that the cramps mix with the irritation, sending ice
cold chills down his spine. Yet the anger mounting in him boils, aided by the hormones.
However, before the can apologize to Dazai because he had /no/ idea that ‘wedding’ was a contagious illness, Chuuya feels a hand closing around his.
A bandaged palm and soft, lean fingers.
However, before the can apologize to Dazai because he had /no/ idea that ‘wedding’ was a contagious illness, Chuuya feels a hand closing around his.
A bandaged palm and soft, lean fingers.
“It’s fine,” Dazai says. He looks at Chuuya’s mother, then at Kouyou, voice quiet and gentle. The air smells like /expectations/. “We didn’t talk about it, frankly. It’s too early.”
Chuuya’s heart stops.
He inhales but Dazai keeps talking, squeezing his hand above the table.
Chuuya’s heart stops.
He inhales but Dazai keeps talking, squeezing his hand above the table.
“But /this/ is what I want, and— I wouldn’t mind being bonded to Chuuya, one day.”
Oh.
His hand rests limp in Dazai’s.
// I’m not going anywhere.//
Oh.
It’s the only sound Chuuya can emit, trying to digest what he heard.
/Shit.
So they’re really in for the long run, huh./
Oh.
His hand rests limp in Dazai’s.
// I’m not going anywhere.//
Oh.
It’s the only sound Chuuya can emit, trying to digest what he heard.
/Shit.
So they’re really in for the long run, huh./
Chuuya’s stomach drops, not sure if he ought to be flattered or /embarrassed/.
“It’s early,” he repeats.
“That’s what I said,” Dazai hmms.
/Why/ does he feel like he can’t quite breathe?
Kouyou’s eyes darken as she stares at Dazai, gaze roaming his face for a trace of
“It’s early,” he repeats.
“That’s what I said,” Dazai hmms.
/Why/ does he feel like he can’t quite breathe?
Kouyou’s eyes darken as she stares at Dazai, gaze roaming his face for a trace of
insincerity. She threatened him, and witnessed them in a compromising situation earlier before, and yet Chuuya can’t pinpoint what his sister /thinks/.
It’s probably nothing good.
“We didn’t talk about it,” Chuuya repeats. “We will. Some day. Maybe.”
“/Maybe/,” Dazai echoes.
It’s probably nothing good.
“We didn’t talk about it,” Chuuya repeats. “We will. Some day. Maybe.”
“/Maybe/,” Dazai echoes.
He slides his hand out of Dazai’s grip, pre-heat sending him contrasting signals.
Should he be happy?
Irritated?
Should he bawl his eyes out? Is Dazai /using/ this to keep the subject away from his own family?
This is the same boy who won’t introduce him to his best friend.
Should he be happy?
Irritated?
Should he bawl his eyes out? Is Dazai /using/ this to keep the subject away from his own family?
This is the same boy who won’t introduce him to his best friend.
It feels like they’re fighting, now. /Great/.
And yet—
// I’m not going anywhere. //
Yet why is his heart /bursting/?
Why is he dying to let himself /fall/ even further down this rabbit hole?
“The food was delicious,” Arthur says, trying to break the awkward silence first.
And yet—
// I’m not going anywhere. //
Yet why is his heart /bursting/?
Why is he dying to let himself /fall/ even further down this rabbit hole?
“The food was delicious,” Arthur says, trying to break the awkward silence first.
Fuku waves away the comment with a blush.
The attempts at conversation that follow after that are timid, /choked/ by Dazai’s comment and the tension that runs between he and Chuuya.
Everybody scatters soon after.
The attempts at conversation that follow after that are timid, /choked/ by Dazai’s comment and the tension that runs between he and Chuuya.
Everybody scatters soon after.
“He’s a nice boy,” Fuku murmurs in Chuuya’s ear.
He’s washing the dishes, holding a plate and rinsing it, hot water soothing his cold skin. She /hugs/ his shoulders, relief dripping from her voice.
“Try to keep this one, just this time? Please?”
// ‘You’re selfish.’ //
He’s washing the dishes, holding a plate and rinsing it, hot water soothing his cold skin. She /hugs/ his shoulders, relief dripping from her voice.
“Try to keep this one, just this time? Please?”
// ‘You’re selfish.’ //
In that moment, almost dropping the plate, Chuuya realizes two things.
One, his mum is wary of Dazai.
That ancestral, visceral fear that comes with an alpha with no family and a suspiciously fervent declaration of love.
As if he has nothing to offer, or not much to live.
One, his mum is wary of Dazai.
That ancestral, visceral fear that comes with an alpha with no family and a suspiciously fervent declaration of love.
As if he has nothing to offer, or not much to live.
He wonders if his mum smelled the death wish on Dazai.
She’d be too polite to say that, of course.
Two: it’ll do anyway, because Chuuya is embarrassing her with the neighbors.
For the first time, Chuuya realizes what Dazai means when he says that people naturally dislike him.
She’d be too polite to say that, of course.
Two: it’ll do anyway, because Chuuya is embarrassing her with the neighbors.
For the first time, Chuuya realizes what Dazai means when he says that people naturally dislike him.
—
Chuuya’s hometown doesn’t exactly shine for /entertainment/ offered to its inhabitants.
Dazai would define everything about the place — keeping it polite — as /rural/.
Which is an understatement for boring as hell.
And depressing.
There isn’t even a /bar/.
Chuuya’s hometown doesn’t exactly shine for /entertainment/ offered to its inhabitants.
Dazai would define everything about the place — keeping it polite — as /rural/.
Which is an understatement for boring as hell.
And depressing.
There isn’t even a /bar/.
Surrounded by woods, the town has /one/ arcade, only one restaurant that also serves as an inn and… well.
There /is/ Arahabaki’s ancient shrine, standing right in Chuuya’s backyard.
Which sounds spooky and amazing to crash, but Chuuya /won’t/ let Dazai even speak about it.
There /is/ Arahabaki’s ancient shrine, standing right in Chuuya’s backyard.
Which sounds spooky and amazing to crash, but Chuuya /won’t/ let Dazai even speak about it.
The moment Dazai proposed to sneak into the small wooden shrine hosting Arahabaki’s statue? /Dramatic/.
Chuuya threw a pillow at him — which Dazai promptly side-stepped, but Chuuya’s point remained.
No Arahabaki.
No cool shrines that smell like incense and ancient blood. Meh.
Chuuya threw a pillow at him — which Dazai promptly side-stepped, but Chuuya’s point remained.
No Arahabaki.
No cool shrines that smell like incense and ancient blood. Meh.
So, you see, there isn’t much to do.
Dazai thought he and Chuuya might /talk/.
They might idle about the house all day.
They might /cuddle/ all day.
But Verlaine has shoved them out of the way, sending them to get groceries so ‘the adults can plan the wedding ceremony’.
Dazai thought he and Chuuya might /talk/.
They might idle about the house all day.
They might /cuddle/ all day.
But Verlaine has shoved them out of the way, sending them to get groceries so ‘the adults can plan the wedding ceremony’.
Which means: the adults can gossip about Chuuya’s new boyfriend.
Or they might put some effort in stopping Verlaine from demanding fireworks and a marching band.
And, talking about marching bands… Dazai’s no idiot.
He’s /aware/ he might have overdone it the night before.
Or they might put some effort in stopping Verlaine from demanding fireworks and a marching band.
And, talking about marching bands… Dazai’s no idiot.
He’s /aware/ he might have overdone it the night before.
But Chuuya didn’t comment on it afterwards.
Once alone, the omega looked at Dazai for a long moment — lost somewhere Dazai couldn’t /reach/.
Then, he hugged the brunet and murmured a ‘thank you for being here’.
He sounded so /hollow/.
His skin felt so /cold/ to the touch.
Once alone, the omega looked at Dazai for a long moment — lost somewhere Dazai couldn’t /reach/.
Then, he hugged the brunet and murmured a ‘thank you for being here’.
He sounded so /hollow/.
His skin felt so /cold/ to the touch.
Chuuya’s scent came to him in feeble waves, so weak and /distant/.
The alpha didn’t know how to respond.
He didn’t know if he was allowed to pry, either, so he /didn’t/.
He simply hugged Chuuya right back, and kissed him, and that was the end of it
(For now, Dazai guessed.)
The alpha didn’t know how to respond.
He didn’t know if he was allowed to pry, either, so he /didn’t/.
He simply hugged Chuuya right back, and kissed him, and that was the end of it
(For now, Dazai guessed.)
And this is how they ended in the current predicament.
First of all, it’s early.
/Well/.
It’s ten in the morning, but Dazai isn’t the kind of person who sleeps through the night.
/Especially/ in a new room.
Little did Chuuya’s scent do, since the Chibi oozes restlessness.
First of all, it’s early.
/Well/.
It’s ten in the morning, but Dazai isn’t the kind of person who sleeps through the night.
/Especially/ in a new room.
Little did Chuuya’s scent do, since the Chibi oozes restlessness.
And his bed is small, too.
(Actually, no.
It’s /short/.
Thank god Dazai stopped believing in monsters lurking in the dark, or sleeping with his feet dangling off the bed’s edge would have been a problem.
He almost hoped Arahabaki would emerge from the closet.)
/Anyway/.
(Actually, no.
It’s /short/.
Thank god Dazai stopped believing in monsters lurking in the dark, or sleeping with his feet dangling off the bed’s edge would have been a problem.
He almost hoped Arahabaki would emerge from the closet.)
/Anyway/.
They’re loitering outside the a local supermarket — a small thing, really, once a house and dominating a crossroads of empty, dusty streets.
Just outside, in the sun-basked alley cornering the building, four vending machines stand aligned — all bright colors and glass
Just outside, in the sun-basked alley cornering the building, four vending machines stand aligned — all bright colors and glass
reflecting the morning sunshine.
That seems like the perfect place to /not/ do what Verlaine asked them, according to Chuuya.
(“Fuck if the old man thinks he can command us around” were the words.)
Leaning against the wall, Dazai shoves his hands the pockets of his trousers.
That seems like the perfect place to /not/ do what Verlaine asked them, according to Chuuya.
(“Fuck if the old man thinks he can command us around” were the words.)
Leaning against the wall, Dazai shoves his hands the pockets of his trousers.
A blue sweater falls around his hips, way too big for his willowy frame.
Chuuya—
Dazai is /not/ sure what is Chibi’s problem with standing straight — a height complex? — but the omega is sitting on the street, back against the wall and knees pressed against his chest.
Chuuya—
Dazai is /not/ sure what is Chibi’s problem with standing straight — a height complex? — but the omega is sitting on the street, back against the wall and knees pressed against his chest.
He’s holding a can of coffee, hands lightly shaking.
It’s his /third/.
Dazai would /lie/ if he said he isn’t concerned, but Chuuya looks like he might bite his head off for asking.
“We’re going to hide here for long?” he drawls, instead.
The question seems to pinch Chuuya.
It’s his /third/.
Dazai would /lie/ if he said he isn’t concerned, but Chuuya looks like he might bite his head off for asking.
“We’re going to hide here for long?” he drawls, instead.
The question seems to pinch Chuuya.
“We’re not hiding.”
“We kind of are,” Dazai says.
The omega clicks his tongue.
He takes a sip of coffee, though he shivers subtly as the can touches his lips.
“Do you really want to go back and watch Paul and Arthur fight?”
“I was thinking we could stay in your /room/.”
“We kind of are,” Dazai says.
The omega clicks his tongue.
He takes a sip of coffee, though he shivers subtly as the can touches his lips.
“Do you really want to go back and watch Paul and Arthur fight?”
“I was thinking we could stay in your /room/.”
“After Ane-san? Not gonna happen.”
“Come on,” the alpha says, blowing a dark strand of hair off his eyes. “She didn’t murder you, /or/ me.” A chuckle climbs up his throat. “Though I expected her to.”
“Told you she doesn’t hate you,” Chuuya murmurs.
Somehow, it’s detached.
“Come on,” the alpha says, blowing a dark strand of hair off his eyes. “She didn’t murder you, /or/ me.” A chuckle climbs up his throat. “Though I expected her to.”
“Told you she doesn’t hate you,” Chuuya murmurs.
Somehow, it’s detached.
And Dazai can grin, but that timbre digs in his /bones/.
Chuuya’s only half-listening; Chuuya’s not /here/.
Dazai shrugs. “Well, it was fun.”
“No. It was mortifying.”
Not a single second of hesitation.
And yes, it /was/ mortifying, but aren’t they supposed to laugh it off?
Chuuya’s only half-listening; Chuuya’s not /here/.
Dazai shrugs. “Well, it was fun.”
“No. It was mortifying.”
Not a single second of hesitation.
And yes, it /was/ mortifying, but aren’t they supposed to laugh it off?
Dazai gnaws at his bottom lip, in search for a good reply to a conversation that feels like a big /excuse/.
It’s almost like Chuuya doesn’t want to be around him.
Not when they are alone.
Not with /him/.
And Dazai can’t possibly /think/ of a reason, because it’s /stupid/ and
It’s almost like Chuuya doesn’t want to be around him.
Not when they are alone.
Not with /him/.
And Dazai can’t possibly /think/ of a reason, because it’s /stupid/ and
certainly all in his mind, but it burns all the same.
The alpha inhales, taking in the oddity of Chuuya’s scent.
An iron-like note always lurked under the surface, but it became more prominent recently.
/Anxiety./
Which is expected since Chuuya has been overworking himself.
The alpha inhales, taking in the oddity of Chuuya’s scent.
An iron-like note always lurked under the surface, but it became more prominent recently.
/Anxiety./
Which is expected since Chuuya has been overworking himself.
But— damn.
Even the sclera of Chuuya’s eyes is veined with screaming red
“So.” Dazai sighs. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing.”
“/Chibi/.”
“I’m fine.”
He quirks an eyebrow.
“I didn’t ask you if you were /fine/,” he says. “Which makes me suspect you are /not/ fine, actually.”
Even the sclera of Chuuya’s eyes is veined with screaming red
“So.” Dazai sighs. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing.”
“/Chibi/.”
“I’m fine.”
He quirks an eyebrow.
“I didn’t ask you if you were /fine/,” he says. “Which makes me suspect you are /not/ fine, actually.”
It’s /sharp/, but Chuuya shakes his head.
“I just replied to your shitty question.”
“Yeah. And you don’t even look fine.”
A harsh laughter. “Do I look like shit, then? Wow. Thanks and fuck you.”
Oh, /God/.
Frustration crawls up Dazai’s arms.
“You /know/ what I mean.”
“I just replied to your shitty question.”
“Yeah. And you don’t even look fine.”
A harsh laughter. “Do I look like shit, then? Wow. Thanks and fuck you.”
Oh, /God/.
Frustration crawls up Dazai’s arms.
“You /know/ what I mean.”
And all of a sudden, Dazai can feel the tension from yesterday looming over them — it’s back, rising and /rising/. Bubbling in every pause, in every moment of silence.
In every crack of the can squeezed by Chuuya’s hand.
And Dazai realizes that lately they are building their
In every crack of the can squeezed by Chuuya’s hand.
And Dazai realizes that lately they are building their
relationship on a house of cards, no matter how solid is the ground it’s based on.
“I’m absolutely /fine/, ‘Samu. Just back off a little, yeah?”
Dazau’s lips close in a thin line.
Actually, though—
“Y’know, Chibi, you can’t ask me to back off every time I worry about you.”
“I’m absolutely /fine/, ‘Samu. Just back off a little, yeah?”
Dazau’s lips close in a thin line.
Actually, though—
“Y’know, Chibi, you can’t ask me to back off every time I worry about you.”
He’s not ok with letting Chuuya deal with his problems alone.
It shouldn’t be like this.
And he guesses his wish to help is hypocritical when he won’t let Chuuya do the same to him, but—
But he can’t see Chibi like this. So tired, so jumpy, avoiding him and lost in thoughts.
It shouldn’t be like this.
And he guesses his wish to help is hypocritical when he won’t let Chuuya do the same to him, but—
But he can’t see Chibi like this. So tired, so jumpy, avoiding him and lost in thoughts.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to dissipate this damn tension.
Chuuya sighs.
He rolls the coffee in the can, and stares at the bottom of it as if to find an /answer/ in it.
An answer Dazai is not sure /he/ can provide.
“Oi. ‘Samu.”
Dazai flinches.
“Yes, Chibi?”
Chuuya sighs.
He rolls the coffee in the can, and stares at the bottom of it as if to find an /answer/ in it.
An answer Dazai is not sure /he/ can provide.
“Oi. ‘Samu.”
Dazai flinches.
“Yes, Chibi?”
“What you said yesterday…” Chuuya’s voice fails. He coughs to clear his throat. Suddenly, Dazai’s blood runs cold in his veins. “About the mating bond.”
Dazai’s mouth feels desert-dry as he swallows.
“Yes.”
“Did you mean it?”
/God, yes. He did./
The alpha parts his lips.
Dazai’s mouth feels desert-dry as he swallows.
“Yes.”
“Did you mean it?”
/God, yes. He did./
The alpha parts his lips.
He’s even ready to take it back, if necessary.
Ready to scream that he’ll stay, he’ll always stay.
There is not a universe where he’ll leave.
Because — contrary to what he always believed — he found relief not in a stream bed, but in the bottomless ocean of Chuuya’s eyes.
Ready to scream that he’ll stay, he’ll always stay.
There is not a universe where he’ll leave.
Because — contrary to what he always believed — he found relief not in a stream bed, but in the bottomless ocean of Chuuya’s eyes.
Because he wants to stay.
Because Chuuya plunged a hand in his chest and grasped his heart.
Dazai opens his mouth.
He breathes and collects his courage — the risible, reckless courage a human can boast.
But—
// “Chuuya? Is— woah, it’s really you.” //
And Chuuya /pales/.
Because Chuuya plunged a hand in his chest and grasped his heart.
Dazai opens his mouth.
He breathes and collects his courage — the risible, reckless courage a human can boast.
But—
// “Chuuya? Is— woah, it’s really you.” //
And Chuuya /pales/.
The omega freezes, eyes wide like a deer’s caught in headlights.
The contrast with the newcomer’s panache is /painful/.
Although unaware of the situation, Dazai’s first instinct — the first thing he /does/ — is to press closer to Chuuya, one hand landing solid on his shoulder.
The contrast with the newcomer’s panache is /painful/.
Although unaware of the situation, Dazai’s first instinct — the first thing he /does/ — is to press closer to Chuuya, one hand landing solid on his shoulder.
Because the pungent smell of Chuuya’s /discomfort/ winged over the street, lighter than fear and so much more unsettling.
It grows more sour with every word he swallows back.
But the man steps closer, not a sign of worry crossing his graceful figure.
A smile curls his lips.
It grows more sour with every word he swallows back.
But the man steps closer, not a sign of worry crossing his graceful figure.
A smile curls his lips.
It forms soft dimples at the corners of the man’s mouth, but doesn’t make his dark eyes any less /cold/.
Shameless.
Confident.
/Dominant/.
“Come on!” The man chimes, running a hand through styled-to-perfection hazelnut hair. “You’re Nakahara Chuuya, right? You remember me!”
Shameless.
Confident.
/Dominant/.
“Come on!” The man chimes, running a hand through styled-to-perfection hazelnut hair. “You’re Nakahara Chuuya, right? You remember me!”
Dazai’s eyes jump from his omega
(His, hammers in Dazai’s brain.
His.
No one else’s.
Even though this… /bug/ acts like he /owns/ Chuuya’s attention.)
to the newcomer. Another alpha.
He didn’t need to /smell/ the subtle musky notes seeping from the man to realize it.
(His, hammers in Dazai’s brain.
His.
No one else’s.
Even though this… /bug/ acts like he /owns/ Chuuya’s attention.)
to the newcomer. Another alpha.
He didn’t need to /smell/ the subtle musky notes seeping from the man to realize it.
Some people, you get their second gender from the way they carry themselves.
From the way they look at /omegas/.
“Chibi…?” Dazai hums.
It’s a request in case he needs help, really, but Chuuya takes it as a /nudge/ to reply.
Slowly, the omega stands up.
From the way they look at /omegas/.
“Chibi…?” Dazai hums.
It’s a request in case he needs help, really, but Chuuya takes it as a /nudge/ to reply.
Slowly, the omega stands up.
His hand, firmly clinging to the coffe can, shakes a little more visibly.
And he’s so /tense/, shoulders taut and rigid, that Dazai’s stomach crumples uncomfortably too.
“Hi, Mishima.”
The man beams — that joyless, meaningless smile.
“So it /is/ you! Handsome as ever, huh?”
And he’s so /tense/, shoulders taut and rigid, that Dazai’s stomach crumples uncomfortably too.
“Hi, Mishima.”
The man beams — that joyless, meaningless smile.
“So it /is/ you! Handsome as ever, huh?”
Not swinging at this Mishima guy is an exercise in self-control.
A self control that doesn’t belong to Dazai, to be fair, but Chuuya made it clear he can — and will — fend for himself.
But the omega lowers his head in a nod.
“You still live here.”
Ok, /what/?
Dazai blinks.
A self control that doesn’t belong to Dazai, to be fair, but Chuuya made it clear he can — and will — fend for himself.
But the omega lowers his head in a nod.
“You still live here.”
Ok, /what/?
Dazai blinks.
There is nothing healthy in the dissonance between Chuuya’s words and the stress in his body language.
“I left after high school,” Mishima says, cocking his head. “I’m back for my son. He’s five today.”
A trembling smile stretches across Chuuya’s lips. Dazai doesn’t know what
“I left after high school,” Mishima says, cocking his head. “I’m back for my son. He’s five today.”
A trembling smile stretches across Chuuya’s lips. Dazai doesn’t know what
kind of history lives inside that number, but he can see Chuuya /crumble/.
“Congrats.”
“She meant nothing, Chuuya.”
Chuuya’s heart is /pounding/.
He’s five.
She meant nothing.
What part is supposed to make the fact that Mishima knocked her up while dating /him/ hurt less?
“Congrats.”
“She meant nothing, Chuuya.”
Chuuya’s heart is /pounding/.
He’s five.
She meant nothing.
What part is supposed to make the fact that Mishima knocked her up while dating /him/ hurt less?
That fucking text sent to the wrong cellphone.
That stupid one year anniversary Chuuya was /so/ looking forward to.
// ‘Dinner w/ family is 💀 5 minutes and I’ll be at your house 🔥 ’//
“It’s none of my business,” Chuuya still manages to say and sound somewhat believable.
That stupid one year anniversary Chuuya was /so/ looking forward to.
// ‘Dinner w/ family is 💀 5 minutes and I’ll be at your house 🔥 ’//
“It’s none of my business,” Chuuya still manages to say and sound somewhat believable.
And these— these might be the hardest words Chuuya has spoken in a while.
In his voice he can capture echoes of a younger self.
/ ‘I like you, Mishima-senpai. Please go on a date with me.’ /
Hell.
How stupid he used to be.
But now— now Dazai squeezes his shoulder /harder/.
In his voice he can capture echoes of a younger self.
/ ‘I like you, Mishima-senpai. Please go on a date with me.’ /
Hell.
How stupid he used to be.
But now— now Dazai squeezes his shoulder /harder/.
And all of a sudden, Chuuya is reminded that he is /not/ alone.
He doesn’t have to be a slave of his past, of that kind of fear that grinds bone to powder.
“No hard feelings?” Mishima says.
And he /smiles/ — that smile that, god, why did Chuuya ever think of it as charming?
He doesn’t have to be a slave of his past, of that kind of fear that grinds bone to powder.
“No hard feelings?” Mishima says.
And he /smiles/ — that smile that, god, why did Chuuya ever think of it as charming?
This time, Chuuya grins right back.
Fuck you, he thinks.
“I don’t care, really.” He never lied with a straight face, but he’ll blame Dazai’s influence. “By the way, this is my boyfriend. Dazai.”
He searches for Dazai’s hand, voice dripping /vindication/.
Mishima’s eyes widen
Fuck you, he thinks.
“I don’t care, really.” He never lied with a straight face, but he’ll blame Dazai’s influence. “By the way, this is my boyfriend. Dazai.”
He searches for Dazai’s hand, voice dripping /vindication/.
Mishima’s eyes widen
as if he can’t believe someone would take Chuuya.
As if he can’t believe someone would really waste time with a half-functioning omega.
Then, he bows.
“Nice to meet you.”
Chuuya’s chest roars when Dazai barely moves.
“Can’t say the same,” the brunet says. “You are…?”
As if he can’t believe someone would really waste time with a half-functioning omega.
Then, he bows.
“Nice to meet you.”
Chuuya’s chest roars when Dazai barely moves.
“Can’t say the same,” the brunet says. “You are…?”
Irritation flickers across Mishima’s face.
Chuuya remembers it well; he used to see that disappointment all the time.
“Mishima Yukio. Chuuya and I used to—“ He hesitates. “Date, once.”
Dazai seems to gauge the reply.
Then, he hmms; his mirth is sharp, cutting like silver.
Chuuya remembers it well; he used to see that disappointment all the time.
“Mishima Yukio. Chuuya and I used to—“ He hesitates. “Date, once.”
Dazai seems to gauge the reply.
Then, he hmms; his mirth is sharp, cutting like silver.
His smirk could draw blood.
// It’s one of those exes. //
Chuuya can see what’s coming in how the alpha’s beauty turned cold and dark — something /dangerous/.
“I /see/.” He looks down on Mishima, eyes scanning his face for a long moment. “Chibi sure used to have poor taste.”
// It’s one of those exes. //
Chuuya can see what’s coming in how the alpha’s beauty turned cold and dark — something /dangerous/.
“I /see/.” He looks down on Mishima, eyes scanning his face for a long moment. “Chibi sure used to have poor taste.”
Chuuya shrugs. He’s about to tell Dazai to not be /mean/ (ah! He’s really stupid, still acting civil after all) when—
When Mishima /chuckles/.
“/He/? Poor taste?” He echoes. The ugly contempt in his voice burns Chuuya like a bruise. “You two must be /new/.”
Dazai frowns.
When Mishima /chuckles/.
“/He/? Poor taste?” He echoes. The ugly contempt in his voice burns Chuuya like a bruise. “You two must be /new/.”
Dazai frowns.
“Nah. I’m just not into cheaters anymore,” Chuuya replies.
He slides closer to Dazai, his thumb skimming over the scent glands in Chuuya’s wrist.
“It’s not exactly our fault though, is it?” Mishima says. “You know it.”
It’s immediate, as if he’s been loading it for /years/.
He slides closer to Dazai, his thumb skimming over the scent glands in Chuuya’s wrist.
“It’s not exactly our fault though, is it?” Mishima says. “You know it.”
It’s immediate, as if he’s been loading it for /years/.
It must be something he tells himself to pretend to be a good person and not a /cheater/.
Because that’s what he is.
“Careful,” Dazai drawls.
A cheater.
Mishima holds the alpha’s gaze, chest heaving. “I don’t like to be accused of things that were driven by circumstances.”
Because that’s what he is.
“Careful,” Dazai drawls.
A cheater.
Mishima holds the alpha’s gaze, chest heaving. “I don’t like to be accused of things that were driven by circumstances.”
Then why—
“Bold words to say you can’t keep your knot in your pants,” Dazai hisses.
Then /why/ does Chuuya feel like Mishima’s right? Why do those words sink like stones?
He can’t keep a lover.
He’s not worthy of a partner.
Because they leave, and leave, and /leave/.
“Bold words to say you can’t keep your knot in your pants,” Dazai hisses.
Then /why/ does Chuuya feel like Mishima’s right? Why do those words sink like stones?
He can’t keep a lover.
He’s not worthy of a partner.
Because they leave, and leave, and /leave/.
“Wait for his heat,” Mishima’s eyes linger on Chuuya. “That damn frustration? /Jeez/. Good luck with that.”
“At least I don’t go around breeding people,” Chuuya mumbles.
Mishima’s eyes turn into slits. “Yes, Chuuya, I had a /child/. And whose fault is that?”
“At least I don’t go around breeding people,” Chuuya mumbles.
Mishima’s eyes turn into slits. “Yes, Chuuya, I had a /child/. And whose fault is that?”
// ‘You’re so damn selfish. You’re asking me to stop now? Hell, I will. Fuck you, Chuuya, I /will/. But I’ll finish with someone else.
Is this what you want?
/You/ are making me do this.’ //
And that’s when the omega tumbles down, falling silent, crushes by guilt.
/Shit/.
Is this what you want?
/You/ are making me do this.’ //
And that’s when the omega tumbles down, falling silent, crushes by guilt.
/Shit/.
He’s standing in front of one of the people that made him feel like nothing and it is /cathartic/, but it’s also tearing him to pieces.
His heat is practically upon him, and this is /not/ helping.
Dazai’s scent turning up, growing more possessive and angry, is not helping.
His heat is practically upon him, and this is /not/ helping.
Dazai’s scent turning up, growing more possessive and angry, is not helping.
And god knows that the way this is making him feel — small and /young/ and /selfish/ — is not. Damn. Helping.
“It was /your/ fuck up,” he murmurs. He hates how weak it sounds.
Mishima, though, lifts his head. He looks victorious, for a moment; his dark eyes gleam.
“It was /your/ fuck up,” he murmurs. He hates how weak it sounds.
Mishima, though, lifts his head. He looks victorious, for a moment; his dark eyes gleam.
His voice drops honey-sweet resentment.
“Chuuya. You know why I did what I did.”
“Honestly.” Dazai tuts, like a teacher in front of a particularly stupid child. “Blaming someone else because your dick felt adventurous? I stand corrected. You’re not stupid, you’re /delusional/.”
“Chuuya. You know why I did what I did.”
“Honestly.” Dazai tuts, like a teacher in front of a particularly stupid child. “Blaming someone else because your dick felt adventurous? I stand corrected. You’re not stupid, you’re /delusional/.”
Mishima barks a guttural chuckle. It’s in moments like this that Chuuya can discern the worst kind of alpha — the one that borders to bully.
“Come on. Chuuya, I’m not saying it’s your fault, babe, but…”
/ But it’s exactly what he’s implying. /
Chuuya swallows. He stammers,
“Come on. Chuuya, I’m not saying it’s your fault, babe, but…”
/ But it’s exactly what he’s implying. /
Chuuya swallows. He stammers,
a lump of anger and shame and anxiety blocking his throat. He’s not his /babe/.
Yet he’s still the loyal schoolboy Mishima cheated on.
But then—
Then Dazai is behind Chuuya, hands circling his hips. Lips grazing his pulse point.
(His /bonding/ spot.)
His voice, velvet,
Yet he’s still the loyal schoolboy Mishima cheated on.
But then—
Then Dazai is behind Chuuya, hands circling his hips. Lips grazing his pulse point.
(His /bonding/ spot.)
His voice, velvet,
drags a shiver down Chuuya’s spine.
“Chuuya’s fault~?” Dazai drawls. “Funny. Chuuya and I have the /best/ sex. But— I guess we can’t all know how to please our omegas, hm?” His teeth hover over Chuuya’s neck, eyes /fixed/ on Mishima. “Thank goodness I take good care of /mine/.”
“Chuuya’s fault~?” Dazai drawls. “Funny. Chuuya and I have the /best/ sex. But— I guess we can’t all know how to please our omegas, hm?” His teeth hover over Chuuya’s neck, eyes /fixed/ on Mishima. “Thank goodness I take good care of /mine/.”
Chuuya sees every word sinking in Mishima like rocks in a lake.
He doesn’t take the accusation of not being good in bed /gracefully/. His face crumples for a moment, his calm upfront cracked by irritation.
But he hmpfs — a weak sound compared to the smugness from before.
He doesn’t take the accusation of not being good in bed /gracefully/. His face crumples for a moment, his calm upfront cracked by irritation.
But he hmpfs — a weak sound compared to the smugness from before.
“Yours?” Mockery soaks Mishima’s voice. “How is someone /yours/ if you can’t claim them?”
Dazai’s teeth graze the omega’s skin.
“My~ You really are dense.”
“And you have rather low standards.”
Chuuya swallows, guilt hunched over his shoulder — still there, /always/ there.
Dazai’s teeth graze the omega’s skin.
“My~ You really are dense.”
“And you have rather low standards.”
Chuuya swallows, guilt hunched over his shoulder — still there, /always/ there.
That’s not true, he screams in his head. But the thing is— he can’t summon enough /courage/ to speak.
He’s in Dazai’s embrace, and he’s /paralyzed/.
Because Mishima always made him feel inadequate.
Because, in the end, it’s his own fault for allowing the alpha to break him.
He’s in Dazai’s embrace, and he’s /paralyzed/.
Because Mishima always made him feel inadequate.
Because, in the end, it’s his own fault for allowing the alpha to break him.
It’s the way it was between them.
Because fists can fall upon a man and mould him, but words can too.
They have their own kind of violence, words.
And Chuuya knows he let the violence in his past relationships shape him — his attitude, his fears, his /limits/.
His trauma.
Because fists can fall upon a man and mould him, but words can too.
They have their own kind of violence, words.
And Chuuya knows he let the violence in his past relationships shape him — his attitude, his fears, his /limits/.
His trauma.
But Dazai’s breath is damp and hot on him, his fangs tickling his unmarked skin.
They leave goosebumps as the alpha tugs Chuuya’s back closer against his chest.
“Not at all.” Dazai stares at Mishima as he speaks. “Though I’m glad Chuuya raised the bar for /his/ standards.”
They leave goosebumps as the alpha tugs Chuuya’s back closer against his chest.
“Not at all.” Dazai stares at Mishima as he speaks. “Though I’m glad Chuuya raised the bar for /his/ standards.”
A ripple of anger flashes across Mishima’s face, plain as day.
Then, he swiftly masks it with a pleasant smile — venom glazed in honey.
“Anyway. Chuuya said it’s all water under the bridge.” The alpha’s dark eyes land on him, and Chuuya’s whole body /shrinks/. “Right, Chuuya?”
Then, he swiftly masks it with a pleasant smile — venom glazed in honey.
“Anyway. Chuuya said it’s all water under the bridge.” The alpha’s dark eyes land on him, and Chuuya’s whole body /shrinks/. “Right, Chuuya?”
“I don’t give a shit,” Chuuya agrees. “But don’t blame me. It’s not my fault you are a joke.”
“/Who/ is the joke here though, babe?”
// It’s your fault. //
Mishima hates him.
// ‘If you don’t change I’ll go to someone else, and it’ll be your fault’. //
Mishima blames him.
“/Who/ is the joke here though, babe?”
// It’s your fault. //
Mishima hates him.
// ‘If you don’t change I’ll go to someone else, and it’ll be your fault’. //
Mishima blames him.
And Chuuya wishes there wasn’t a part of him believing that too.
The idea is so deeply engraved in his marrow that it keeps resurfacing, no matter how he tries to push it away.
Chuuya swallows. “Don’t call me that.”
Mishima smiles /pleasantly/.
“You know I’m right.”
The idea is so deeply engraved in his marrow that it keeps resurfacing, no matter how he tries to push it away.
Chuuya swallows. “Don’t call me that.”
Mishima smiles /pleasantly/.
“You know I’m right.”
No, he’s not. He’s /not/ right.
Fuck him, Mishima is not. damn. right.
As Chuuya tries so desperately to /believe/ it, Dazai pulls away.
Ice washes over Chuuya at the sudden lack of contact, leaving only the burning ghosts of fangs.
His hand mechanically runs to his neck.
Fuck him, Mishima is not. damn. right.
As Chuuya tries so desperately to /believe/ it, Dazai pulls away.
Ice washes over Chuuya at the sudden lack of contact, leaving only the burning ghosts of fangs.
His hand mechanically runs to his neck.
He brushes the area — he /feels/ it, and the prickling electricity running under his skin.
But the alpha is moving in front of him now, placing himself between Chuuya and Mishima like a shield.
“It’s really about time you go play somewhere else.”
Dazai slides his hands in his
But the alpha is moving in front of him now, placing himself between Chuuya and Mishima like a shield.
“It’s really about time you go play somewhere else.”
Dazai slides his hands in his
trousers pockets as he speaks. He’s grinning.
“Shoo,” he nudges.
Mishima only tilts his chin up, though. His steps mirror Dazai’s — just as confident.
“Why? The road is free.”
“Don’t test me.”
“Oh, but you’ll thank /me/ when his heat comes,” Mishima says, glancing at Chuuya
“Shoo,” he nudges.
Mishima only tilts his chin up, though. His steps mirror Dazai’s — just as confident.
“Why? The road is free.”
“Don’t test me.”
“Oh, but you’ll thank /me/ when his heat comes,” Mishima says, glancing at Chuuya
Dazai’s face hardens.
“I doubt that.”
“You got yourself a faulty one. I’m just warning you.”
That’s what he is, Chuuya thinks.
He is broken. And—
“How kind of you. Now fuck off.”
/ And Dazai made him see how *wrong* he was. /
Mishima pushes closer — every step brazenly
“I doubt that.”
“You got yourself a faulty one. I’m just warning you.”
That’s what he is, Chuuya thinks.
He is broken. And—
“How kind of you. Now fuck off.”
/ And Dazai made him see how *wrong* he was. /
Mishima pushes closer — every step brazenly
dominant when Dazai is /nonchalant/.
They’re face to face, scents clashing.
“We alph—”
“We?” Dazai deadpans. “Like I said, I take /good/ care of my omega.”
“I—“
“You, by the sound of it, not only couldn’t do that, but can’t even take responsibility for a bastard pup.”
They’re face to face, scents clashing.
“We alph—”
“We?” Dazai deadpans. “Like I said, I take /good/ care of my omega.”
“I—“
“You, by the sound of it, not only couldn’t do that, but can’t even take responsibility for a bastard pup.”
Before, Chuuya never understood why Mishima hated and wanted him so, but the man still looks at him and he sees a /waste/.
A waste he thought he could fix, almighty alpha as he is.
In Chuuya, he met the hard truth that he is /not/ special.
And that he fucked up.
A waste he thought he could fix, almighty alpha as he is.
In Chuuya, he met the hard truth that he is /not/ special.
And that he fucked up.
But few things are more dangerous than a little man exposed for what he is.
The realization hits Chuuya like a slap, though it’s not him Mishima tries to hit.
He sees the raised arm, bloodshot eyes overflowing with /shame/.
Shame for being down talked, for his past choices.
The realization hits Chuuya like a slap, though it’s not him Mishima tries to hit.
He sees the raised arm, bloodshot eyes overflowing with /shame/.
Shame for being down talked, for his past choices.
Shame because Chuuya has someone who stands for him when he’s too battered to stand for himself.
Chuuya stares at Mishima’s fist as he swings in Dazai’s direction — Dazai slightly taller than him, deadly calm/
He looks as if he’s /waiting/ for the punch to hit strong and true.
Chuuya stares at Mishima’s fist as he swings in Dazai’s direction — Dazai slightly taller than him, deadly calm/
He looks as if he’s /waiting/ for the punch to hit strong and true.
Fists like this are ill-calibrated and sloppy, guided by rage alone. Yet, Chuuya knows they hurt all the same.
His lips part, Dazai’s name on the tip of his tongue.
But, before he can speak, the smacking sound of palm against bone ricochets in the alley.
Chuuya’s eyes widen.
His lips part, Dazai’s name on the tip of his tongue.
But, before he can speak, the smacking sound of palm against bone ricochets in the alley.
Chuuya’s eyes widen.
Dazai doesn’t /seem/ strong, forever wrapped in white gauze. Yet he doesn’t falter, grabbing Mishima’s wrist a breath from his face.
Chuuya stares in awe at the soft brown strands that frame the quiet lake of the alpha’s face.
His eyes, though.
His lips.
Dazai is /amused/.
Chuuya stares in awe at the soft brown strands that frame the quiet lake of the alpha’s face.
His eyes, though.
His lips.
Dazai is /amused/.
As he steps closer to decide if he should stop the two or sit back and enjoy the scene, Chuuya sees Mishima /shrivel/.
He clearly wishes he could free himself, but he can’t — damn, he /can’t/.
“I said, leave.”
“Let me go,” Mishima commands.
It does /nothing/. An alpha
He clearly wishes he could free himself, but he can’t — damn, he /can’t/.
“I said, leave.”
“Let me go,” Mishima commands.
It does /nothing/. An alpha
Command, and it washes over Dazai like oil on water — equally a majestic and terrifying sight.
“That wouldn’t be very smart of me, though,” Dazai says, a joyless smile turning his chanting voice into something eerie. “You tried to hit me first.”
“Bastard.”
“/Apologize/.”
“That wouldn’t be very smart of me, though,” Dazai says, a joyless smile turning his chanting voice into something eerie. “You tried to hit me first.”
“Bastard.”
“/Apologize/.”
Mishima hisses in response, shaking his wrist to no avail.
“Fuck you.”
“Careful. You don’t want to make me command you.” Dazai moves closer. He speaks against the alpha’s ear, his voice dropping into a murmur.“Because it will work and, I promise you, you won’t /enjoy/ it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Careful. You don’t want to make me command you.” Dazai moves closer. He speaks against the alpha’s ear, his voice dropping into a murmur.“Because it will work and, I promise you, you won’t /enjoy/ it.”
Every word fondles Chuuya’s skin — velvet, heavy and dark.
He’s seen this all before. It happened at the café, and he /feared/ this hollow Dazai he doesn’t really /know/.
This time, though, he embraces it.
Because there’s something /alluring/ in the way Dazai protects him.
He’s seen this all before. It happened at the café, and he /feared/ this hollow Dazai he doesn’t really /know/.
This time, though, he embraces it.
Because there’s something /alluring/ in the way Dazai protects him.
And Chuuya doesn’t need protection, he made that clear, but he can’t fight these monsters alone.
He can’t.
And for the first time, Chuuya realizes that’s what a partner /is/ for; to fight those monsters that make you weak.
Mishima shrinks a little more, pushing away. At least,
He can’t.
And for the first time, Chuuya realizes that’s what a partner /is/ for; to fight those monsters that make you weak.
Mishima shrinks a little more, pushing away. At least,
he /tries/.
Dazai keeps him firmly where he wants him, though.
He’s fully in control and Chuuya is /mesmerized/, heart throbbing in its cage.
“You better not threaten me,” Mishima still says. At least, Chuuya has to commend the effort. “You don’t know who /I/ am. I am—“
Dazai keeps him firmly where he wants him, though.
He’s fully in control and Chuuya is /mesmerized/, heart throbbing in its cage.
“You better not threaten me,” Mishima still says. At least, Chuuya has to commend the effort. “You don’t know who /I/ am. I am—“
Mishima’s voice stammers, failing into a weird guttural whimper as he gives a sharp pull.
Dazai does let him step back this time, even if bare /centimeters/.
He still makes it painfully clear that it’s something /he/ is allowing.
“You are?”
“I work for a big company, and—“
Dazai does let him step back this time, even if bare /centimeters/.
He still makes it painfully clear that it’s something /he/ is allowing.
“You are?”
“I work for a big company, and—“
Chuuya scowls. Mishima commanded Dazai, so technically /he/ is breaking the law.
But Dazai stares at the nails of his free hand, mouth twisting as in /disappointment/.
“And…?”
“I have /connections/.”
“Congrats.”
/He’s bluffing/, Chuuya thinks. And it’s not working either.
But Dazai stares at the nails of his free hand, mouth twisting as in /disappointment/.
“And…?”
“I have /connections/.”
“Congrats.”
/He’s bluffing/, Chuuya thinks. And it’s not working either.
“People who’ll make you disappear, if I ask them.”
Dazai lifts his head. He stares at Mishima, face unreadable.
“By all means, call them.” His grip around the man’s wrist fastens, bones cracking. “But you… talk about /my/ partner again, and I won’t be as kind as I was today.”
Dazai lifts his head. He stares at Mishima, face unreadable.
“By all means, call them.” His grip around the man’s wrist fastens, bones cracking. “But you… talk about /my/ partner again, and I won’t be as kind as I was today.”
And something in Chuuya /clicks/.
It has been boiling for a while under the surface, but Dazai just pushed it over the edge.
It sets fire to Chuuya’s lungs, and his breath — his heart, his body — stutters under the sudden jolt of warm pleasure.
Butterflies dance in his belly.
It has been boiling for a while under the surface, but Dazai just pushed it over the edge.
It sets fire to Chuuya’s lungs, and his breath — his heart, his body — stutters under the sudden jolt of warm pleasure.
Butterflies dance in his belly.
The cramps bloom into fleshy, carnivorous flowers of want.
And he can’t blame it on no one but Dazai, this heat that sparked in him. He triggered it, simple as flipping a switch.
But the shift in his scent—
Dazai /senses/ it.
He turns his face sharply, glaring at Chuuya.
And he can’t blame it on no one but Dazai, this heat that sparked in him. He triggered it, simple as flipping a switch.
But the shift in his scent—
Dazai /senses/ it.
He turns his face sharply, glaring at Chuuya.
Dazai stares for a long moment without the need to say anything, eyes suddenly focused and the same cold expression he gave Mishima.
Only, this time, there’s another kind of hunger.
Not vendetta, but /want/.
Chuuya’s not sure Mishima realizes what just happened, or if he’s
Only, this time, there’s another kind of hunger.
Not vendetta, but /want/.
Chuuya’s not sure Mishima realizes what just happened, or if he’s
too preoccupied shitting himself.
It doesn’t matter, anyway.
His heat doesn’t belong to Mishima; it’s not his to judge, and most certainly not his to /sense/.
“Oi,” Chuuya says around a lump in his throat. His voice sounds /raspy/ after the silence. “‘Samu. It’s not worth it.”
It doesn’t matter, anyway.
His heat doesn’t belong to Mishima; it’s not his to judge, and most certainly not his to /sense/.
“Oi,” Chuuya says around a lump in his throat. His voice sounds /raspy/ after the silence. “‘Samu. It’s not worth it.”
“No.” Dazai casts a sideway glance at Mishima. The sweet scent of pheromones has wiped away his interest in the other alpha. “He’s not.”
“You’re getting yourself in big fucking troubles.”
“I /bet/,” Dazai drawls, shooting him a compassionate smile. “You’ll leave us alone. Now.”
“You’re getting yourself in big fucking troubles.”
“I /bet/,” Dazai drawls, shooting him a compassionate smile. “You’ll leave us alone. Now.”
Is /that/ a command? Is that why Mishima falls /silent/?
Hell, Chuuya doesn’t care.
“Let’s go,” he pleads, sounding a little chocked up.
Please, let’s go /now/.
When Dazai looks at him and nods, his eyes are bleary. A need so /deep/, it seems to swallow Chuuya whole.
Hell, Chuuya doesn’t care.
“Let’s go,” he pleads, sounding a little chocked up.
Please, let’s go /now/.
When Dazai looks at him and nods, his eyes are bleary. A need so /deep/, it seems to swallow Chuuya whole.
Territorial alphas will fight all the time, but omegas have the power to derail them.
The nurturing ones, the /caretakers/.
But Chuuya is an odd omega, always was.
He can’t take a knot.
Anxiety devours him.
And had his heat /triggered/ by Dazai acting like a damn gang leader.
The nurturing ones, the /caretakers/.
But Chuuya is an odd omega, always was.
He can’t take a knot.
Anxiety devours him.
And had his heat /triggered/ by Dazai acting like a damn gang leader.
And if Chuuya is stopping this fight /now/, it’s entirely for /selfish/ reasons.
Because Dazai is wearing that darkness like a king’s cape — balanced, /mellowed/ by Chuuya’s presence. Mindful.
It’s /hot/.
It’s still intimidating, that darkness inside Dazai. Of course it is.
Because Dazai is wearing that darkness like a king’s cape — balanced, /mellowed/ by Chuuya’s presence. Mindful.
It’s /hot/.
It’s still intimidating, that darkness inside Dazai. Of course it is.
But the beast is not /devouring/ the alpha this time.
It’s controlled, and sharpened like a blade.
His grin cuts from cheek to cheek. He towers over Mishima. His voice is venom-sweet.
But Chuuya catches himself staring at how Dazai holds the man’s wrist before letting go.
It’s controlled, and sharpened like a blade.
His grin cuts from cheek to cheek. He towers over Mishima. His voice is venom-sweet.
But Chuuya catches himself staring at how Dazai holds the man’s wrist before letting go.
Fingers strong like iron, long and elegant and marble-white. Mishima seems ready to obey, pliant and whimpering under the grip.
The fingertips kiss the skin for one last moment, and Chuuya /knows/ they’ll leave bruises.
And, God—
/God/.
He needs those hands on him.
The fingertips kiss the skin for one last moment, and Chuuya /knows/ they’ll leave bruises.
And, God—
/God/.
He needs those hands on him.
—
// People who might make you disappear. //
It’s funny.
Dazai wonders what Mori would think — how would a surgeon in cahoots with the underground react?
Funny, how easily Mishima threatened him.
An orphan. A lit student. A nobody.
The son of the previous Port Mafia boss.
// People who might make you disappear. //
It’s funny.
Dazai wonders what Mori would think — how would a surgeon in cahoots with the underground react?
Funny, how easily Mishima threatened him.
An orphan. A lit student. A nobody.
The son of the previous Port Mafia boss.
When Mori took him in after his parents’ suicide, Dazai didn’t/know/ why. He thought it kindness.
But he grew up and realized Mori didn’t like children. Then, he supposed it was /pity/.
But it didn’t take him long to realize that piety and charity had /nothing/ to do with it.
But he grew up and realized Mori didn’t like children. Then, he supposed it was /pity/.
But it didn’t take him long to realize that piety and charity had /nothing/ to do with it.
The boss of the Port Mafia had killed himself, a double suicide with his wife.
The child — the heir — had to be /preserved/. Ougai Mori fulfilled his task marvelously.
Well. Too bad brave Mishima, a no one from a godforsaken town, has /connections/.
Oh, /no/.
How tragic.
The child — the heir — had to be /preserved/. Ougai Mori fulfilled his task marvelously.
Well. Too bad brave Mishima, a no one from a godforsaken town, has /connections/.
Oh, /no/.
How tragic.
Color him /terrified/.
Now, Dazai wonders, organ trade is by far the best way to make someone disappear for a profit. Maybe it’s that.
Maybe the Yamaguchi-gumi, maybe the Triad.
He wonders if Mishima was bluffing — a fleeting moment before he decides he doesn’t care.
Now, Dazai wonders, organ trade is by far the best way to make someone disappear for a profit. Maybe it’s that.
Maybe the Yamaguchi-gumi, maybe the Triad.
He wonders if Mishima was bluffing — a fleeting moment before he decides he doesn’t care.
The thing is, Mishima looks like a guy who does taxes for fun, who believes in nothing but what he sees and reassures his five-year-old son that there are no monsters under his bed.
But Dazai—
He dined with the monsters. He saw them. He /is/ them.
Nothing fucking scares him.
But Dazai—
He dined with the monsters. He saw them. He /is/ them.
Nothing fucking scares him.
In silence, Dazai follows Chuuya’s down the steep road that leads back to the shrine.
His heart beats in his throat.
He balls his hands into fists, trying to push down the urge to /stop/ and hold Chuuya and /scent/ him, cover him in wild kisses until their mouths /hurt/.
His heart beats in his throat.
He balls his hands into fists, trying to push down the urge to /stop/ and hold Chuuya and /scent/ him, cover him in wild kisses until their mouths /hurt/.
Keeping a safe distance as they walk helps— for now.
Dazai is not sure how long that’ll last, though.
Because he is barely keeping himself from /jumping/ the omega, hands prickling and throat dry.
All he can focus on is the alluring trail of pheromones oozed by Chuuya.
Dazai is not sure how long that’ll last, though.
Because he is barely keeping himself from /jumping/ the omega, hands prickling and throat dry.
All he can focus on is the alluring trail of pheromones oozed by Chuuya.
And he feels dizzy with want, but he won’t act like an /animal/ in public.
He has more respect for his boyfriend than that.
Dazai is biting his bottom lip and trailing after Chuuya, empty handed and nostrils full with the boy’s heat, when the first raindrop hits his cheek.
__
He has more respect for his boyfriend than that.
Dazai is biting his bottom lip and trailing after Chuuya, empty handed and nostrils full with the boy’s heat, when the first raindrop hits his cheek.
__
__
Chuuya welcomes the cold rain on his face like a blessing.
They didn’t buy /shit/ of what Paul asked them, but the thought couldn’t be further from his mind right now.
Every drop seem to /sizzle/ when it touches his skin — he’s soaked and boiling, going up in flames.
Chuuya welcomes the cold rain on his face like a blessing.
They didn’t buy /shit/ of what Paul asked them, but the thought couldn’t be further from his mind right now.
Every drop seem to /sizzle/ when it touches his skin — he’s soaked and boiling, going up in flames.
And yet, he doesn’t quite have the courage to talk to Dazai — to look at him, even.
The silence is tense, full of expectations.
Not even the rain can wash away the pungent scent of lust; the sweet demands of Chuuya’s heat and Dazai’s barely-holding-it-together self control.
The silence is tense, full of expectations.
Not even the rain can wash away the pungent scent of lust; the sweet demands of Chuuya’s heat and Dazai’s barely-holding-it-together self control.
He /saw/ the hunger in Dazai’s eyes.
He /felt/ his own resolve crumble.
And Chuuya finds himself wishing that the hand that was blocking Mishima’s wrist could now /choke/ him while keeping him down — until he moans, until he /sobs/.
The silence roars loud in his head,
He /felt/ his own resolve crumble.
And Chuuya finds himself wishing that the hand that was blocking Mishima’s wrist could now /choke/ him while keeping him down — until he moans, until he /sobs/.
The silence roars loud in his head,
populated by the screaming thoughts of what he wants Dazai to do to him.
But they can’t go home like /this/, or he’ll go crazy.
Chuuya curses his bad luck. There isn’t even a damn love hotel.
And the rain falls harder, tapping on the street, painting the grey concrete black,
But they can’t go home like /this/, or he’ll go crazy.
Chuuya curses his bad luck. There isn’t even a damn love hotel.
And the rain falls harder, tapping on the street, painting the grey concrete black,
and— /Damn/.
The lust bleeds into pain.
Chuuya fears this all-consuming flame will devour him if he doesn’t /succumb/ to it, and there’s nowhere private he and Dazai can go.
Nowhere but—
…There /is/ a place.
It might even shut Dazai up.
They just better not get caught.
The lust bleeds into pain.
Chuuya fears this all-consuming flame will devour him if he doesn’t /succumb/ to it, and there’s nowhere private he and Dazai can go.
Nowhere but—
…There /is/ a place.
It might even shut Dazai up.
They just better not get caught.
If his parents ever discover that he /desecrated/ a god’s house and an historical site, he’s dead.
Done for.
Chuuya grits his teeth.
/Honestly, fuck it/.
The omega heads to the shrine’s grounds, Dazai silent and hot on his heels, and pushes further into the backyard.
Done for.
Chuuya grits his teeth.
/Honestly, fuck it/.
The omega heads to the shrine’s grounds, Dazai silent and hot on his heels, and pushes further into the backyard.
He hears the alpha whimper when they face the wooden building that /supposedly/ hosted the spirit of a primitive god.
Now, all that remains is a statue nobody ever sees and various supplies for the local summer festival.
The shrine is no bigger than a storage room, though
Now, all that remains is a statue nobody ever sees and various supplies for the local summer festival.
The shrine is no bigger than a storage room, though
Chuuya was always freaked out by the statue. He always breathed in the dust of thousands of years of belief inside those walls.
But Nakahara Chuuya doesn’t believe in /gods/, nor he fears them.
Especially not now.
All he knows is that it’s pouring, he’s soaked to the bone, his
But Nakahara Chuuya doesn’t believe in /gods/, nor he fears them.
Especially not now.
All he knows is that it’s pouring, he’s soaked to the bone, his
belly is on fire and he /needs/ Dazai to quench this /thirst/ in him.
He just hopes he won’t be cursed for this because — the moment Dazai sneaks in and Chuuya closes the shrine’s sliding door behind them — he has Dazai’s tongue in his mouth and Arahabaki’s empty eyes on him.
He just hopes he won’t be cursed for this because — the moment Dazai sneaks in and Chuuya closes the shrine’s sliding door behind them — he has Dazai’s tongue in his mouth and Arahabaki’s empty eyes on him.
Rain in his eyes and heart in his throat, Chuuya leans against Dazai’s chest.
He breathes against the alpha’s mouth, lips parting, eyes closed.
He takes it /in/, all of it.
The kiss.
The ancient smell of damp wood and dust.
The drumming of rain on the roof.
/The need/.
He breathes against the alpha’s mouth, lips parting, eyes closed.
He takes it /in/, all of it.
The kiss.
The ancient smell of damp wood and dust.
The drumming of rain on the roof.
/The need/.
And, as he /thaws/ under the warmth of Dazai’s lips and shudders at his wet, cold hands cradling his neck, images flicker behind Chuuya’s lids.
Dazai, blocking Mishima.
Dazai, defending him. /Wanting/ him.
And Chuuya desperately tries to gain a sense of /control/, but—
Dazai, blocking Mishima.
Dazai, defending him. /Wanting/ him.
And Chuuya desperately tries to gain a sense of /control/, but—
But he’s /far/ past that point, now.
“Sorry,” he mutters, pushing away just enough to speak against the alpha’s lips. His voice shakes with every word, vocal cords strained by the effort of not slurring. “I tried to fight this stupid heat, but…”
Dazai halts.
“You /what/?”
“Sorry,” he mutters, pushing away just enough to speak against the alpha’s lips. His voice shakes with every word, vocal cords strained by the effort of not slurring. “I tried to fight this stupid heat, but…”
Dazai halts.
“You /what/?”
His voice is colorless, but it makes Chuuya tremble all the same.
And the omega was never a good liar, always wearing his heart on his sleeve even when it was stupid to do so, but still he /tries/.
He shrugs, lulled by Dazai’s touch and his overwhelming scent filling the air.
And the omega was never a good liar, always wearing his heart on his sleeve even when it was stupid to do so, but still he /tries/.
He shrugs, lulled by Dazai’s touch and his overwhelming scent filling the air.
“I mean, I had a /hunch/—“
“So you knew,” Dazai says. “And you didn’t say anything.”
Chuuya closes in a stubborn — ashamed, really — silence.
It’s an exercise in futility, when all he wants to do is to kiss Dazai again, to silence everything else.
“Chibi. Look at me.”
“So you knew,” Dazai says. “And you didn’t say anything.”
Chuuya closes in a stubborn — ashamed, really — silence.
It’s an exercise in futility, when all he wants to do is to kiss Dazai again, to silence everything else.
“Chibi. Look at me.”
As he speaks, Dazai lodges one index finger under Chuuya’s chin, gently tilting his head up.
The omega realizes the finger is /shaking/ ever so slightly. But it’s like trying to keep a flood at bay; somehow, it’ll always slip through the cracks.
“You are /safe/ with me.”
The omega realizes the finger is /shaking/ ever so slightly. But it’s like trying to keep a flood at bay; somehow, it’ll always slip through the cracks.
“You are /safe/ with me.”
And it’s back; that mad jolt of desire that manifests when Dazai talks to him like this.
When he looks at him with warm eyes brimming with confidence.
But, before Chuuya can muster a reply, Dazai cradles his nape.
He seals his lips in a kiss, and Chuuya is /home/ again.
When he looks at him with warm eyes brimming with confidence.
But, before Chuuya can muster a reply, Dazai cradles his nape.
He seals his lips in a kiss, and Chuuya is /home/ again.
The omega is not sure if the wetness in his bottom half is caused by the rain or by the thin stream of slick dripping down his thighs, but the sudden constraint of his slacks is definitely /telling/.
Who cares anyway, Chuuya thinks.
That’s what he wants.
He’s gonna be /ok/.
Who cares anyway, Chuuya thinks.
That’s what he wants.
He’s gonna be /ok/.
Because Dazai is /here/ and Chuuya can’t think, not when his brain is /silenced/ by swift fingers unzipping his jeans, and—
And he can’t focus.
All he knows are the frenzied hands that peel off wet clothes and undo buttons, getting rid of layer after layer.
And he can’t focus.
All he knows are the frenzied hands that peel off wet clothes and undo buttons, getting rid of layer after layer.
He knows the rustle of clothes falling to the floor as he and Dazai stumble around, never breaking the kiss.
He knows and he needs, he needs, he /needs/ it.
// TW NSFW 🐒
Sloppily, Chuuya bares Dazai’s bandages as the alpha frees Chuuya from his clothes, blindly looking for
He knows and he needs, he needs, he /needs/ it.
// TW NSFW 🐒
Sloppily, Chuuya bares Dazai’s bandages as the alpha frees Chuuya from his clothes, blindly looking for
more skin to map.
Chuuya shivers — cold air caressing his naked body, only covered in /his/ alpha’s hand — but it’s just a moment.
He’s still lost in the mad rush of blood in his ears, in the tangle of damp, heavy breaths, when Dazai pushes him against the shrine’s wall.
Chuuya shivers — cold air caressing his naked body, only covered in /his/ alpha’s hand — but it’s just a moment.
He’s still lost in the mad rush of blood in his ears, in the tangle of damp, heavy breaths, when Dazai pushes him against the shrine’s wall.
Chuuya’s back collides with the wood with a soft sound.
The mix of heat and hushed sighs and scents blending into one makes his head /spin/.
He closes his knees around Dazai’s hips with a suffocated yelp, pinning his heels to Dazai’s inner thigh when the alpha lifts him up
The mix of heat and hushed sighs and scents blending into one makes his head /spin/.
He closes his knees around Dazai’s hips with a suffocated yelp, pinning his heels to Dazai’s inner thigh when the alpha lifts him up
in his arms.
He never suspected such a lanky body could hold him like this, to be fair.
Dazai appears so /fragile/ all the time.
Apparently, after today, Chuuya really can state that he didn’t know his boyfriend well at all — and there are /good/ things to discover, yet.
He never suspected such a lanky body could hold him like this, to be fair.
Dazai appears so /fragile/ all the time.
Apparently, after today, Chuuya really can state that he didn’t know his boyfriend well at all — and there are /good/ things to discover, yet.
He laces his arms around Dazai’s neck.
His legs scream as the omega keeps himself balanced, caught between the wall and the alpha.
His naked body goes up in cold flames, searching for heat — searching for /contact/.
And Chuuya knows it’s not fucking /smart/ and that he’s
His legs scream as the omega keeps himself balanced, caught between the wall and the alpha.
His naked body goes up in cold flames, searching for heat — searching for /contact/.
And Chuuya knows it’s not fucking /smart/ and that he’s
risking losing Dazai here, but he can’t stop — hands wandering, famished, stupid with lust.
And he’s moaning /loudly/, hands sunk in ruffled brunet strands and curled over Dazai as the alpha sucks at his bottom lip.
He skims one hand over the bandages covering Dazai’s neck.
And he’s moaning /loudly/, hands sunk in ruffled brunet strands and curled over Dazai as the alpha sucks at his bottom lip.
He skims one hand over the bandages covering Dazai’s neck.
“Will you—“ Chuuya lets out a husky moan, coaxed by Dazai’s teeth grazing the sensitive skin of his jaw. /Bastard/. “Will you ever take them off?”
/ Those stupid things. /
“/Later/,” Dazai says, part groan and part promise.
Later.
Which implies there will be a second time.
/ Those stupid things. /
“/Later/,” Dazai says, part groan and part promise.
Later.
Which implies there will be a second time.
However, for now, Dazai seems focused on a whole galaxy of other emotions stirring him up.
On the friction between their bodies, stealing gasps from the omega.
On the sweet slick running down Chuuya’s parted thighs. On his tensed muscles.
Suffocating a whine, Chuuya trembles.
On the friction between their bodies, stealing gasps from the omega.
On the sweet slick running down Chuuya’s parted thighs. On his tensed muscles.
Suffocating a whine, Chuuya trembles.
His cock rubs against Dazai’s, his shoulder blades scraping the wall.
It’s maddening, the way his entire body writhes with the rubbing.
He’s sore, trapped between Dazai and the wall, and holding to the alpha’s shoulders and hips for dear life because who the /hell/ knows for
It’s maddening, the way his entire body writhes with the rubbing.
He’s sore, trapped between Dazai and the wall, and holding to the alpha’s shoulders and hips for dear life because who the /hell/ knows for
how long Dazai will sustain his weight, but—
But he’s impatient, Chuuya, and high on lust.
Impatient people find interesting compromises with their bodies.
Chuuya hisses in Dazai’s mouth when his dick scrapes against the alpha’s length, wet with slick and pre-cum.
But he’s impatient, Chuuya, and high on lust.
Impatient people find interesting compromises with their bodies.
Chuuya hisses in Dazai’s mouth when his dick scrapes against the alpha’s length, wet with slick and pre-cum.
He arches his back to feel closer to his boyfriend, chasing a ghost of relief, grinding blindly. His abs and inner thighs protest for the effort of keeping himself balanced /and/ at the right height.
This stupid height difference.
It’s so frustrating Chuuya wants to /cry/.
This stupid height difference.
It’s so frustrating Chuuya wants to /cry/.
Desperately, the omega seeks as much skin-on-skin contact as possible. He fears he might go /crazy/ because of this flame burning him alive.
Still, he relishes in every sloppy kiss and moan he manages to spill from Dazai with the same, furious joy of the last survivor of a war.
Still, he relishes in every sloppy kiss and moan he manages to spill from Dazai with the same, furious joy of the last survivor of a war.
Every reaction is a personal victory, but--
“You’re so wet already,” Dazai humms against his mouth.
But, shit, /one/ distrait word from Dazai and he's lost.
Chuuya’s toes curl.
It’s an obvious statement, yet it’s tinged with pride — I did this. It’s mine. /You/ are mine.
“You’re so wet already,” Dazai humms against his mouth.
But, shit, /one/ distrait word from Dazai and he's lost.
Chuuya’s toes curl.
It’s an obvious statement, yet it’s tinged with pride — I did this. It’s mine. /You/ are mine.
It might as well be the hottest thing Chuuya ever heard — so raspy, murmured into Chuuya’s mouth as if not to bother the ancient spirits dwelling in these holy grounds — and the omega /falls apart/ under the praise.
The thing is, Dazai's right.
Chuuya /is/ wet and ready.
The thing is, Dazai's right.
Chuuya /is/ wet and ready.
His body throbs, treacherous, making Chuuya /think/ he wants a knot. Making him believe he can't take it, drunk on lust, hopeful against hope.
Even worse, hopeful against /experience/.
But he can feel the muscles at the base of Dazai’s dick swelling as his arousal grows, and
Even worse, hopeful against /experience/.
But he can feel the muscles at the base of Dazai’s dick swelling as his arousal grows, and
the thought of having that -- the anticipation, the feeling of Dazai's cock sliding against his naked stomach, smearing pre-cum on the skin -- makes Chuuya's mouth water.
That’s the blessing and the course of a damn heat, the omega supposes and—
And he’s secretly /terrified/.
That’s the blessing and the course of a damn heat, the omega supposes and—
And he’s secretly /terrified/.
What if.
What if Mishima is right, and Chuuya finds himself with but a handful of hopes and a stuffed toy and a request to move out.
What if he needs Dazai so much because, deep down, his inner, wretched omega knows it'll be the last time.
What if he's not enough.
What /if/.
What if Mishima is right, and Chuuya finds himself with but a handful of hopes and a stuffed toy and a request to move out.
What if he needs Dazai so much because, deep down, his inner, wretched omega knows it'll be the last time.
What if he's not enough.
What /if/.
But Dazai's body is hard against Chuuya's, his tongue warm as it slips between his teeth, and desire pushes fear off the chessboard.
It’s always like this.
He gets careless during heats.
But he can’t bring himself to care and... frankly, he's so damn /tired/ of being afraid.
It’s always like this.
He gets careless during heats.
But he can’t bring himself to care and... frankly, he's so damn /tired/ of being afraid.
There is no space for fear when he's captured between the wall and Dazai’s body, drifting away with the scent filling his mind and with the soft thump of his back hitting the wood.
The grinding is dragged out, at first.
Not tentative, but /savouring/ the crackling sparks that
The grinding is dragged out, at first.
Not tentative, but /savouring/ the crackling sparks that
the heat kindled under Chuuya’s skin. /Unhurried/.
That is, until one of Dazai’s hands tangles in the omega’s hair. It combs through the locks, at the beginning, tumbling over knots as he gently guides Chuuya to tilt his head.
Long, lean fingers lost in an ocean of copper.
That is, until one of Dazai’s hands tangles in the omega’s hair. It combs through the locks, at the beginning, tumbling over knots as he gently guides Chuuya to tilt his head.
Long, lean fingers lost in an ocean of copper.
The boy sighs against Dazai’s mouth, lips parting and jaw relaxing as Dazai kisses him deep and /slow/.
He grabs a fistful of strands, and Chuuya's cock twitches.
Then, the alpha gives the mass of auburn hair a generous tug — not enough to /hurt/, but firm. Dominant.
He grabs a fistful of strands, and Chuuya's cock twitches.
Then, the alpha gives the mass of auburn hair a generous tug — not enough to /hurt/, but firm. Dominant.
But Dazai frotting against him and fisting his hair, handling him without care but calling him /perfect/ in-between wet kisses, spit making their mouths glossy—
He /likes/ it.
Shit, he might like it a little too much.
And that’s when Chuuya /grins/, flashing white teeth.
He /likes/ it.
Shit, he might like it a little too much.
And that’s when Chuuya /grins/, flashing white teeth.
“You can pull my hair, y’know?” he teases. His voice comes out strained despite the attempt at being cocky, but it /still/ works.
He doesn’t have to tell Dazai twice.
Chuuya’s breath is cut by another generous pull, this time to the side, exposing the pale skin of his neck.
He doesn’t have to tell Dazai twice.
Chuuya’s breath is cut by another generous pull, this time to the side, exposing the pale skin of his neck.
“Is that so?” Dazai’s murmur vibrates in the shrine, almost distant. Chuuya shivers.
(Since when being talked down to turns him /on/?)
Before he can protest, Dazai clutches his hair tight, teeth ghost against the neck scent glands. He laps at the responsive skin meticulously,
(Since when being talked down to turns him /on/?)
Before he can protest, Dazai clutches his hair tight, teeth ghost against the neck scent glands. He laps at the responsive skin meticulously,
red marks blooming on the pale column of the omega's neck after Dazai is satisfied with his ministrations.
It's another side to Dazai entirely -- just how many /masks/ can this man wear? --, a more adult side Chuuya had only glimpsed at, yet he might be falling /hard/ for it.
It's another side to Dazai entirely -- just how many /masks/ can this man wear? --, a more adult side Chuuya had only glimpsed at, yet he might be falling /hard/ for it.
And maybe--
Dazai's fangs pierce his skin. Not enough to draw blood or mark him, but /enough/ to make Chuuya wish he did.
He moans around Dazai's name; loud, /much/ louder than he should be.
Just /maybe/--
"You sound beautiful."
Maybe he has to /thank/ Mishima, after all.
Dazai's fangs pierce his skin. Not enough to draw blood or mark him, but /enough/ to make Chuuya wish he did.
He moans around Dazai's name; loud, /much/ louder than he should be.
Just /maybe/--
"You sound beautiful."
Maybe he has to /thank/ Mishima, after all.
When Dazai nibbles at the sensitive skin right above the glands, Chuuya gasps; it's like having the alpha's scent injected right into his /marrow/. Sent right to his brain.
It resonates with his heat.
The sudden, dizzying wave of scent and the chafing make the omega jolt.
It resonates with his heat.
The sudden, dizzying wave of scent and the chafing make the omega jolt.
His hold around Dazai's hips almost falters, and he's ready for a second to end up close and personal with the shrine's floor.
He /doesn't/, though his stomach drops for a moment.
Chuuya falls silent, taking in a deep breath.
And this is all very /nice/ and all, but--
He /doesn't/, though his stomach drops for a moment.
Chuuya falls silent, taking in a deep breath.
And this is all very /nice/ and all, but--
Dazai's nose presses against Chuuya's neck, hands in his hair. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”
// Impatient people grow /tired/ of playing around, too. //
It’s not enough.
It's not nearly /enough/.
Chuuya swallows dry.
“I need—"
Ah, fuck.
He needs /a thousand/ things
// Impatient people grow /tired/ of playing around, too. //
It’s not enough.
It's not nearly /enough/.
Chuuya swallows dry.
“I need—"
Ah, fuck.
He needs /a thousand/ things
So he wriggles in Dazai’s arms, pressing his middle /closer/ to the alpha.
The movement makes Dazai wince with the way it rubs their dicks together, with the slight shift in weight.
“/Please/“ Chuuya tries again, realising how /close/ he sounds to begging. “I need more.”
The movement makes Dazai wince with the way it rubs their dicks together, with the slight shift in weight.
“/Please/“ Chuuya tries again, realising how /close/ he sounds to begging. “I need more.”
There's just a moment of hesitation before the alpha nods. “As you wish, angel.”
Dazai’s arms tremble before he puts Chuuya down, making sure to sustain the omega as his knees jitter and refuse to bolster his weight.
He frames Chuuya's face, leaving a tender peck on his lips.
Dazai’s arms tremble before he puts Chuuya down, making sure to sustain the omega as his knees jitter and refuse to bolster his weight.
He frames Chuuya's face, leaving a tender peck on his lips.
"Sit down," he instructs.
That /firmness/ again.
It makes the omega's heart hiccup, and he can't but follow that soft, soft command.
It's not a command at all, to be fair, but Chuuya can't but /comply/ nevertheless.
Strong, gentle hands guide Chuuya on the floor,
That /firmness/ again.
It makes the omega's heart hiccup, and he can't but follow that soft, soft command.
It's not a command at all, to be fair, but Chuuya can't but /comply/ nevertheless.
Strong, gentle hands guide Chuuya on the floor,
sitting with his back against the wall and legs parted. Dazai sits down in front of him, so close that the redhead can breathe /in/ his arousal.
They made a mess on the wall; the distinctive smell of slick will linger for weeks
He fucking hopes Arahabaki won't mind it, in hell.
They made a mess on the wall; the distinctive smell of slick will linger for weeks
He fucking hopes Arahabaki won't mind it, in hell.
The moment they are settled Chuuya blinks up, an unspoken question glimmering in his eyes.
/What, now?/
When Dazai leans in again, it's /gentle/.
He captures Chuuya's bottom lip in between his teeth, and smiles and pumps the omega's cock in his hand, palm smeared in fluids.
/What, now?/
When Dazai leans in again, it's /gentle/.
He captures Chuuya's bottom lip in between his teeth, and smiles and pumps the omega's cock in his hand, palm smeared in fluids.
There is no space to breathe; somehow Chuuya doesn’t /need/ it.
No space for talking, not when Dazai's lean fingers stretch.
He firmly keeps Chuuya's dick against his own, rubbing them together in a way that makes stars flicker behind the omega's lids as he closes his eyes.
No space for talking, not when Dazai's lean fingers stretch.
He firmly keeps Chuuya's dick against his own, rubbing them together in a way that makes stars flicker behind the omega's lids as he closes his eyes.
Blindly, he covers as much of Dazai’s back as he can, nails sinking in the bandages.
He hates them. Hates them.
But there’s also no time to focus on what he /can’t/ have, on the skin he /can’t/ touch, when Dazai pinches his nipple between the thumb and index of his free hand.
He hates them. Hates them.
But there’s also no time to focus on what he /can’t/ have, on the skin he /can’t/ touch, when Dazai pinches his nipple between the thumb and index of his free hand.
Chuuya’s yelp gets covered by the brunet's mouth. He wriggles to get closer, lulled by the friction, nullifying the inexistent distance between them.
It’s good.
Shit, it’s /really/ good.
The stroking sends jolts of pleasure down his spine, hands wandering down Dazai’s back.
It’s good.
Shit, it’s /really/ good.
The stroking sends jolts of pleasure down his spine, hands wandering down Dazai’s back.
He groans when Dazai pulls back, only to /marvel/ at the sudden, gentle pressure against his mouth.
Dazai, tracing the contour of his cupid's bow.
He seems almost mapping it in his mind, eyes still dark with want -- awed.
Chuuya parts his lips, nibbling at the alpha’s fingers.
Dazai, tracing the contour of his cupid's bow.
He seems almost mapping it in his mind, eyes still dark with want -- awed.
Chuuya parts his lips, nibbling at the alpha’s fingers.
The hard tip of his tongue runs on the soft pad of Dazai's index, bathing it in spit and torturing it gently with his teeth.
He teases it as he would tease the head of Dazai's dick, still hard and getting more /demanding/ against his own.
He takes his time, though.
He teases it as he would tease the head of Dazai's dick, still hard and getting more /demanding/ against his own.
He takes his time, though.
Obedient, almost unbearably /pretty/ in his play-pretend innocence.
And Chuuya /knows/ he’s enticing, wearing nothing but the alpha’s scent, all glistering eyes and flushed cheeks.
That’s when he looks up, gaze framed by long eyelashes, lips plump and parted.
He /stares/.
And Chuuya /knows/ he’s enticing, wearing nothing but the alpha’s scent, all glistering eyes and flushed cheeks.
That’s when he looks up, gaze framed by long eyelashes, lips plump and parted.
He /stares/.
He /challenges/.
That’s also when a groan escapes Dazai, and the alpha crams two fingers in Chuuya's mouth.
It’s unceremonious and fucking /unexpected/, accompanied by Dazai grinding faster and /harder/ against him, but Chuuya’s entire body comes alive under the reaction.
That’s also when a groan escapes Dazai, and the alpha crams two fingers in Chuuya's mouth.
It’s unceremonious and fucking /unexpected/, accompanied by Dazai grinding faster and /harder/ against him, but Chuuya’s entire body comes alive under the reaction.
He sucks on the fingers /greedily/ as Dazai moves on him, /with/ him, cock stroking against cock in a quickening pace.
He /craves/ this.
He craves the touch, the fullness.
He craves every inch of the alpha to the point that everything else slips out of the picture.
He /craves/ this.
He craves the touch, the fullness.
He craves every inch of the alpha to the point that everything else slips out of the picture.
He always needed /Dazai/ — his contrasts and his wounds and his shadows and his /lights/ —but this...
Jaw slacked, taking comfortably four fingers fucking his mouth, Chuuya rolls his head back and pushes down a gag reflex.
…This is /more/ than he ever thought he’d deserve.
Jaw slacked, taking comfortably four fingers fucking his mouth, Chuuya rolls his head back and pushes down a gag reflex.
…This is /more/ than he ever thought he’d deserve.
This maddening pace, the way Dazai is thrusting in his mouth until tears prickle his eyes.
“Chuuya,” Dazai breathes out.
His fingers slip of out the omega’s mouth with a soft pop
Chuuya’s body almost /cries/ in frustration.
“Chuuya,” Dazai breathes out.
His fingers slip of out the omega’s mouth with a soft pop
Chuuya’s body almost /cries/ in frustration.
One moment ago he was lost in his lover — his touch, his /fingers/ — and now…
He trembles.
They both still. He knows what Dazai is about to ask.
Fuck, he knows.
It’s one of those moments when you can /see/ your life splitting in two — a good outcome, or a devastating one.
He trembles.
They both still. He knows what Dazai is about to ask.
Fuck, he knows.
It’s one of those moments when you can /see/ your life splitting in two — a good outcome, or a devastating one.
“…Yes?”
// Please, don’t ask.
Don’t ask /that/.
Please. Please. Please— //
“Are you ok with this? If there’s /anything/ you’re not comfortable with…,” he says, wheeze.
Chuuya blinks. Eyes hazed with a thousand feelings, and /still/ Dazai—
“I’m ok,” he murmurs.
// Please, don’t ask.
Don’t ask /that/.
Please. Please. Please— //
“Are you ok with this? If there’s /anything/ you’re not comfortable with…,” he says, wheeze.
Chuuya blinks. Eyes hazed with a thousand feelings, and /still/ Dazai—
“I’m ok,” he murmurs.
He’s way more than just that, but /god/, his tongue is heavy and glued to the floor of his mouth.
// You’re safe with me. //
// I’ll stay. //
So he really meant it, huh.
They /really/ are in for the long run.
Because of all the alphas that /tried/ to take advantage of him
// You’re safe with me. //
// I’ll stay. //
So he really meant it, huh.
They /really/ are in for the long run.
Because of all the alphas that /tried/ to take advantage of him
during his heat, to push his boundaries only to leave him to lick his wounds after, Dazai is the only one who cared.
His hips jolt as he thrusts in the alpha’s hand.
“I’m ok,” he says again, voice husky, leaning forward. He presses a dry kiss to Dazai’s jaw. “Don’t stop.”
His hips jolt as he thrusts in the alpha’s hand.
“I’m ok,” he says again, voice husky, leaning forward. He presses a dry kiss to Dazai’s jaw. “Don’t stop.”
Tongue between teeth, Dazai hisses at the friction between their erections. The slick and the boiling skin make his jaw clench.
He /doesn’t/ stop, though.
And, God, Chuuya loves him for it.
Because he needs more, he /wants/ more.
He /doesn’t/ stop, though.
And, God, Chuuya loves him for it.
Because he needs more, he /wants/ more.
And Dazai’s hand is giving it all to him, holding their cocks together, rubbing them against each other, hips pushing into Chuuya’s.
“Perfect,” Dazai hums. “You’re so perfect.”
The omega gapes around a moan. He’s /silenced/ by the praise and the feelings it stirred in him.
“Perfect,” Dazai hums. “You’re so perfect.”
The omega gapes around a moan. He’s /silenced/ by the praise and the feelings it stirred in him.
But Dazai keeps going, punctuating every tug to the omega’s hair, every fluttering kiss he lands on Chuuya’s face and ever movement of his hips with honey-glazed, murmured praises.
“You’re so /beautiful/.”
“Look at you, so handsome for me.”
It sends Chuuya /spinning/.
“You’re so /beautiful/.”
“Look at you, so handsome for me.”
It sends Chuuya /spinning/.
Dazai’s teeth wander on his neck, so close to marking him but never /quite/ getting there. Anticipation clutches Chuuya’s stomach.
His body arches with every thrust, hips rocking, bending into Dazai’s touch.
Dutiful, Dazai keeps pulling at his hair with his free hand.
His body arches with every thrust, hips rocking, bending into Dazai’s touch.
Dutiful, Dazai keeps pulling at his hair with his free hand.
It’s never gentle, never overly careful.
Sharp tugs melt into sweet kisses.
Every time Chuuya moans in surprise, Dazai lifts his head to devour his lips and drown the ache with his tongue, bury it under searing bites.
And, for the first time, pain turns from enemy to lover.
Sharp tugs melt into sweet kisses.
Every time Chuuya moans in surprise, Dazai lifts his head to devour his lips and drown the ache with his tongue, bury it under searing bites.
And, for the first time, pain turns from enemy to lover.
And Chuuya didn’t know he /wanted/ to be treated this way — like he can /handle/ the pain, if it’s as his own terms.
Treated like someone who has power in circumstances that always /annihilated/ him, but—
But he knows himself a little better than he did yesterday, now.
Treated like someone who has power in circumstances that always /annihilated/ him, but—
But he knows himself a little better than he did yesterday, now.
Chuuya moans.
It’s shameless, it’s /loud/.
Mind numbed as he chases his high, the omega doesn’t even keep it in — he doesn’t even try.
And if Dazai kisses him a little harsher with a wolfish, pleased grin tugging at his lips, the omega takes it all as a /personal victory/.
It’s shameless, it’s /loud/.
Mind numbed as he chases his high, the omega doesn’t even keep it in — he doesn’t even try.
And if Dazai kisses him a little harsher with a wolfish, pleased grin tugging at his lips, the omega takes it all as a /personal victory/.
“Fuck, I—“ the omega breathes out, voice dying into a heavy breath.
Dazai gives a generous pull to his hair, making Chuuya’s head roll back. He leans in then, sucking at Chuuya’s earlobe — tongue playing with the soft skin, twisting and biting it with dedicated meticulousness.
Dazai gives a generous pull to his hair, making Chuuya’s head roll back. He leans in then, sucking at Chuuya’s earlobe — tongue playing with the soft skin, twisting and biting it with dedicated meticulousness.
He picks up the pace, careening against Dazai, fucking himself in his hand and against his dick; quenching his thirst in the friction of their groins grinding together.
His body is a thin silk string fraying under the flame that is Dazai’s /touch/.
Dazai’s knot, now swollen
His body is a thin silk string fraying under the flame that is Dazai’s /touch/.
Dazai’s knot, now swollen
and hard and /pulsating/, rubs against the base of Chuuya’s cock.
It would be /easy/ for Dazai to complain, to try and knot him, now that he is so close to his orgasm. But he /doesn’t/.
With every movement Chuuya’s body lights up, white stars exploding behind his lids.
It would be /easy/ for Dazai to complain, to try and knot him, now that he is so close to his orgasm. But he /doesn’t/.
With every movement Chuuya’s body lights up, white stars exploding behind his lids.
The warm wave of the orgasm creeps up on the omega, turning his limbs numb and his mind sharp. He holds his breath — he holds and /holds/ a gasp, trapped in his windpipe.
With every movement, he’s lost.
His head sinks forward, cheek against Dazai’s face — close, /so/ close.
With every movement, he’s lost.
His head sinks forward, cheek against Dazai’s face — close, /so/ close.
All he can think of is Dazai’s hand palming his stomach, and his mouth, and his teeth nibbling at his earlobe, and his swollen knot and hands and scent and voice and—
it’s /there/.
His high comes crumbling down on him, crushing him.
Unexpected, cutting Chuuya’s breath.
it’s /there/.
His high comes crumbling down on him, crushing him.
Unexpected, cutting Chuuya’s breath.
Warming him from the inside, and at the same time leaving him shivering.
He’s full and empty, and painfully /awake/ as he spills in Dazai’s hand with a strangled moan.
Dazai, too.
His body seems to tremble at its edges as he cums, breath heavy and lips crumpled up in a groan.
He’s full and empty, and painfully /awake/ as he spills in Dazai’s hand with a strangled moan.
Dazai, too.
His body seems to tremble at its edges as he cums, breath heavy and lips crumpled up in a groan.
With a hazed smile, Dazai pushes away from Chuuya.
The omega shudders when Dazai’s fingers part from his dick.
He’s done /nothing/, letting Dazai carry him through the entire predicament, and— and it’s nice to not worry for once.
The omega shudders when Dazai’s fingers part from his dick.
He’s done /nothing/, letting Dazai carry him through the entire predicament, and— and it’s nice to not worry for once.
And Dazai doesn’t seem to mind, so who the /fuck/ cares — who, when for once he’s too lightheaded to overthink what happened and obsess over his own thoughts.
The alpha’s shoulders relax. He detangles his hand from the omega’s hair to flip soft, sunset-red curls from blue eyes.
The alpha’s shoulders relax. He detangles his hand from the omega’s hair to flip soft, sunset-red curls from blue eyes.
“I love you,” Dazai says, voice soft, looking at Chuuya in the eye.
It’s really /so/ easy.
It’s reassuring. Soft.
A declaration from the bottom of Dazai’s soul — where shines no light but the one of this small, somewhat new, unfaltering emotion — that seals what happened.
It’s really /so/ easy.
It’s reassuring. Soft.
A declaration from the bottom of Dazai’s soul — where shines no light but the one of this small, somewhat new, unfaltering emotion — that seals what happened.
So Chuuya smiles.
He smiles, panting and /trembling/. Tears forming at the corners of his eyes, not for refusal but /relief/.
And if falling even deeper in love with Dazai in an ancient shrine is a fool’s game, call him a fool.
With a moment of delay, too lightheaded and
He smiles, panting and /trembling/. Tears forming at the corners of his eyes, not for refusal but /relief/.
And if falling even deeper in love with Dazai in an ancient shrine is a fool’s game, call him a fool.
With a moment of delay, too lightheaded and
tired and stunned to think properly, the omega realizes he is smiling for a /heat/. He cups Dazai’s cheek with one hand.
He’s at home, he faced Mishima, he mentally flipped off Arahabaki, Dazai /loves/ him and—
He’s smiling for a heat.
Well, shit.
/ This is new. /
He’s at home, he faced Mishima, he mentally flipped off Arahabaki, Dazai /loves/ him and—
He’s smiling for a heat.
Well, shit.
/ This is new. /
From: Ryu 🧛
// New guy clogged the coffee machine again.
Pls be back.
Chuuya sighs, running a hand through his hair.
He stares at the phone, then at the mirror as he turns on the tap.
Four days.
The part-timer needs to last only /four/ days.
Ryuu needs to hang in there
// New guy clogged the coffee machine again.
Pls be back.
Chuuya sighs, running a hand through his hair.
He stares at the phone, then at the mirror as he turns on the tap.
Four days.
The part-timer needs to last only /four/ days.
Ryuu needs to hang in there
for just four. Damn. Days.
Still, as he plunges his wrists under the cold water, Chuuya mulls that… /actually, it’s whatever. It’s ok./
They’ll survive without Chuuya shouldering the entire future of the café.
It’s something new for him, too, this marrowed-out tranquility.
Still, as he plunges his wrists under the cold water, Chuuya mulls that… /actually, it’s whatever. It’s ok./
They’ll survive without Chuuya shouldering the entire future of the café.
It’s something new for him, too, this marrowed-out tranquility.
Normally, taking time off still means worrying about work all the damn time. He /worries/. It might be a good summary of Chuuya’s life, that one.
He worries.
He takes responsibility.
However, after everything that happened and mind dazed by the heat, Fitzgerald could fire
He worries.
He takes responsibility.
However, after everything that happened and mind dazed by the heat, Fitzgerald could fire
the redhead now and Chuuya’s brain would still be fixed on one thought:
/Osamu/.
Even after hours and several hushed orgasms, Chuuya’s heart is still stuck there.
Because Dazai /does/ help his heat with searing kisses and touches that feel like brands on the omega’s skin.
/Osamu/.
Even after hours and several hushed orgasms, Chuuya’s heart is still stuck there.
Because Dazai /does/ help his heat with searing kisses and touches that feel like brands on the omega’s skin.
Turns out, Arahabaki doesn’t hate Chuuya after all. Or maybe it likes Dazai.
Anyway, no ancient deity cursed them for desecrating a shrine.
(Not yet, at least.)
Uncle Paul /did/ glare when he saw the two boys sneak in the house empty-handed, messy and soaked and /giggling/.
Anyway, no ancient deity cursed them for desecrating a shrine.
(Not yet, at least.)
Uncle Paul /did/ glare when he saw the two boys sneak in the house empty-handed, messy and soaked and /giggling/.
Chuuya simply shrugged in lieu of a reply, murmured a ‘sorry’ and dragged Dazai upstairs.
In the shrine, becoming a /tinge/ more lucid after the orgasm, Chuuya agreed that he could keep his voice /low/ — and Dazai would /help/ him — so they could move things to his bedroom.
In the shrine, becoming a /tinge/ more lucid after the orgasm, Chuuya agreed that he could keep his voice /low/ — and Dazai would /help/ him — so they could move things to his bedroom.
After all, comfy mattress beats shitty, cold wooden floor of a creepy shrine /any/ day.
As they undressed, Chuuya realized he was wearing his clothes backwards.
That gave a newfound sense to Verlaine’s stare but, again…
/ Who. Cares. /
As long as he’s in Dazai’s arms.
As they undressed, Chuuya realized he was wearing his clothes backwards.
That gave a newfound sense to Verlaine’s stare but, again…
/ Who. Cares. /
As long as he’s in Dazai’s arms.
As long as he can still calm this heat.
As long at they can stay in Chuuya’s nest, sheltered by a locked door, and maybe not freeze to death in a dark shrine — or in the rain.
As long as they are not interrupted.
And, god, Dazai is /everything/ the omega could have asked for.
As long at they can stay in Chuuya’s nest, sheltered by a locked door, and maybe not freeze to death in a dark shrine — or in the rain.
As long as they are not interrupted.
And, god, Dazai is /everything/ the omega could have asked for.
He pressed Chuuya on the mattress time and again, dragging trembling sighs out of the redhead as he went down on him ever so /meticulously/.
Perfectly silent, wearing nothing but a smug smirk and Chuuya’s hands, the alpha bit the boy’s lips every time a wanton moan escaped him.
Perfectly silent, wearing nothing but a smug smirk and Chuuya’s hands, the alpha bit the boy’s lips every time a wanton moan escaped him.
Now, the omega has /no/ idea of the time — early afternoon? Who the hell knows anyway — and he /just/ found the resolve to crawl to the bathroom.
The sweet scent of slick lingers on his skin, marked with hickeys and starred by pearls of sweat.
His body is on /fire/. Alive.
The sweet scent of slick lingers on his skin, marked with hickeys and starred by pearls of sweat.
His body is on /fire/. Alive.
And the thing is, Dazai wanted to go on.
Hell, he could have made Chuuya cum ten times more (his words, /quoting/).
But even with a heat raging in him, even with this overflowing /want/ and cold skin screaming for the warmth of an alpha, the omega needs a pause.
Hell, he could have made Chuuya cum ten times more (his words, /quoting/).
But even with a heat raging in him, even with this overflowing /want/ and cold skin screaming for the warmth of an alpha, the omega needs a pause.
He needs to /breathe/.
So he twists his wrists under the water, mulling over the idea to run downstairs and steal some snacks.
There /is/ a promise that Dazai has yet to keep, though: his bandages.
That sea of white gauze keeps staring back at Chuuya, almost mocking him.
So he twists his wrists under the water, mulling over the idea to run downstairs and steal some snacks.
There /is/ a promise that Dazai has yet to keep, though: his bandages.
That sea of white gauze keeps staring back at Chuuya, almost mocking him.
It makes him wonder if he is enough — even if it’s ridiculous, because Dazai /told/ him he is.
The bandages are is a situation that the omega plans to change soon.
But apparently not now, since his phone pings again.
From: Ryuu 🧛
// You’ll have to scrub blood from the counter
The bandages are is a situation that the omega plans to change soon.
But apparently not now, since his phone pings again.
From: Ryuu 🧛
// You’ll have to scrub blood from the counter
Rolling his eyes, Chuuya closes the tap and wipes his hands on the towel before replying.
If an indulgent smile is painted on his face, that’s for /him/ to know.
To: Ryuu 🧛
// Use your people skills ❤️
The reply takes one second.
From: Ryuu 🧛
// Right. My knife skills.
If an indulgent smile is painted on his face, that’s for /him/ to know.
To: Ryuu 🧛
// Use your people skills ❤️
The reply takes one second.
From: Ryuu 🧛
// Right. My knife skills.
To: Ryuu 🧛
// jsyk I don’t have money to bail your goth ass out of jail if you get caught
From: Ryuu 🧛
// That’s because you break people out of jail 💀
// Sushi says he’d bail us both out tho
To: Ryuu 🧛
// He’s an angel
// are you jealous if I say I love your boyfriend?
// jsyk I don’t have money to bail your goth ass out of jail if you get caught
From: Ryuu 🧛
// That’s because you break people out of jail 💀
// Sushi says he’d bail us both out tho
To: Ryuu 🧛
// He’s an angel
// are you jealous if I say I love your boyfriend?
From: Ryuu 🧛
// Nah, it would be the first healthy crush of your life 🤷🏻
// hope Dazai is rotting, by the way. He stays in jail.
Chuuya tuts to himself.
Now, he doesn’t have to ask himself if he would break Dazai out of jail.
He /loves/ the guy. Of course he would help him.
// Nah, it would be the first healthy crush of your life 🤷🏻
// hope Dazai is rotting, by the way. He stays in jail.
Chuuya tuts to himself.
Now, he doesn’t have to ask himself if he would break Dazai out of jail.
He /loves/ the guy. Of course he would help him.
The real question is: how many days would Chuuya let the alpha /wait/ for him?
What’s the acceptable fashionably late benchmark for breaking your boyfriend out of jail?
Anyway.
Nobody is going to jail because Ryuu is /not/ murdering the new guy.
(Hopefully. /Technically/.)
What’s the acceptable fashionably late benchmark for breaking your boyfriend out of jail?
Anyway.
Nobody is going to jail because Ryuu is /not/ murdering the new guy.
(Hopefully. /Technically/.)
Chuuya quickly types a reply, still trying to mend the unspoken conflict between his dearest friend and his boyfriend.
One who makes him cry, yes, and often, and for stupid shit, but—
But Dazai is /his/ alpha. He feels like the right one.
To: Ryuu 🧛
// Dazai misses you too
One who makes him cry, yes, and often, and for stupid shit, but—
But Dazai is /his/ alpha. He feels like the right one.
To: Ryuu 🧛
// Dazai misses you too
From: Ryuu 🧛
// 🤢
With a soft chuckle, Chuuya moves back to the bedroom.
Outside is still pouring, thick raindrops tapping against the window
His stomach gives a slow, pleasant twist when he notices Dazai comfortably sprawled on the bed, looking at him with a hooded smile.
// 🤢
With a soft chuckle, Chuuya moves back to the bedroom.
Outside is still pouring, thick raindrops tapping against the window
His stomach gives a slow, pleasant twist when he notices Dazai comfortably sprawled on the bed, looking at him with a hooded smile.
“Ryuu’s having problem with the new person,” he declares, showing the phone.
Dazai’s lips curl up.
Sex makes him /mellow/.
It rounds the edges of his sharp beauty.
“You’ll be back Tuesday. It’s just a few days.”
“A few days are plenty to murder someone and bury the body.”
Dazai’s lips curl up.
Sex makes him /mellow/.
It rounds the edges of his sharp beauty.
“You’ll be back Tuesday. It’s just a few days.”
“A few days are plenty to murder someone and bury the body.”
“You /seriously/ need to cut the true crime podcasts,” Dazai says, patting the empty space next to him. “Come here?”
Dutifully, Chuuya pads to the bed and curls next to his boyfriend.
He swallows his questions regarding the bandages, nuzzling his face in Dazai’s chest instead.
Dutifully, Chuuya pads to the bed and curls next to his boyfriend.
He swallows his questions regarding the bandages, nuzzling his face in Dazai’s chest instead.
“Are you ok?” Dazai asks. It’s quiet, tender, spoken while gently combing through Chuuya’s hair.
“Now yes.”
/For how long, though./
Dazai sinks his nose in the omega’s hair, kissing the crown of his head — inhaling their scents blended together into one.
“…Chibi?”
“Hm?”
“Now yes.”
/For how long, though./
Dazai sinks his nose in the omega’s hair, kissing the crown of his head — inhaling their scents blended together into one.
“…Chibi?”
“Hm?”
“Can I ask something? You don’t have to reply.”
/Here they go/, Chuuya thinks.
“Go ahead,” he murmurs, even though he’d rather dig a hole for himself and hide there.
Now Dazai will ask him /why/ Ryuu hates him so.
He’ll ask him why Ryuu didn’t forgive him, and Chuuya will
/Here they go/, Chuuya thinks.
“Go ahead,” he murmurs, even though he’d rather dig a hole for himself and hide there.
Now Dazai will ask him /why/ Ryuu hates him so.
He’ll ask him why Ryuu didn’t forgive him, and Chuuya will
be forced to spit out his frustrations about this Oda ghost, the guy he /still/ has to meet, and—
“Do you want to you talk about it? What do you feel when you…” Dazai stops, and inhales deeply. “Y’know. With sex.”
/Oh/.
This is /definitely/ not about Akutagawa.
“Do you want to you talk about it? What do you feel when you…” Dazai stops, and inhales deeply. “Y’know. With sex.”
/Oh/.
This is /definitely/ not about Akutagawa.
He is /definitely/ not going to mention the Oda guy.
Chuuya stiffens in the alpha’s arms, cold shivers running down his back.
It’s not like the question /blindsided/ him, exactly, but it dawned on him completely /unexpected/.
And the thing with pain is that it’s volatile.
Chuuya stiffens in the alpha’s arms, cold shivers running down his back.
It’s not like the question /blindsided/ him, exactly, but it dawned on him completely /unexpected/.
And the thing with pain is that it’s volatile.
The fleeting emotion, so /powerful/ in the moment, becomes hard to describe to someone who never suffered by its hand.
Chuuya gnaws at his bottom lip
“I…”
“You don’t have to,” Dazai clarifies immediately. “I owe you answers, too. I know that.”
“Damn yes you do,” he murmurs.
Chuuya gnaws at his bottom lip
“I…”
“You don’t have to,” Dazai clarifies immediately. “I owe you answers, too. I know that.”
“Damn yes you do,” he murmurs.
He’s getting /defensive/, but Dazai’s words — the light vibrations of his chest, as if he’s almost /crooning/ — work the omega back to a state of semi-calm.
“But Chuuya can talk to me, if he wants too.”
“I don’t see why it matters.”
“It does because I /care/,” Dazai says.
“But Chuuya can talk to me, if he wants too.”
“I don’t see why it matters.”
“It does because I /care/,” Dazai says.
The alpha doesn’t need to raise his voice to /rumble/ like a far away thunder. “And because I’m your heat partner, now, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
The omega stills. He closes in his shoulders, but it’s /pitiful/ — ashamed almost.
A petty attempt to escape the conversation.
The omega stills. He closes in his shoulders, but it’s /pitiful/ — ashamed almost.
A petty attempt to escape the conversation.
“You know me already, ‘Samu.”
The alpha nods.
“I’m /learning/,” he agrees. “I’m learning everything. Your body language, your pace, your habits. What you like. But you can help me.”
/ We can make it a pillow talk. Together.
Take some power away from the pain and the fear. /
The alpha nods.
“I’m /learning/,” he agrees. “I’m learning everything. Your body language, your pace, your habits. What you like. But you can help me.”
/ We can make it a pillow talk. Together.
Take some power away from the pain and the fear. /
And Chuuya /knows/ that this is a burden he cannot share — it’s his, and his alone — but…
But maybe Dazai can /understand/. After all, it’s a nice thing that somebody is willing to listen, for a change.
“It’s pain. Just pain.”
Chuuya breathes around the word, trying to find a
But maybe Dazai can /understand/. After all, it’s a nice thing that somebody is willing to listen, for a change.
“It’s pain. Just pain.”
Chuuya breathes around the word, trying to find a
better definition. It keeps slipping past his grasp, leaving him with no means to describe something that is so simple, yet so /devastating/.
He had to push that word out with all his might, yet it’s not nearly enough.
Dazai nods, eyes focused.
“Hm-m. Ok.”
He had to push that word out with all his might, yet it’s not nearly enough.
Dazai nods, eyes focused.
“Hm-m. Ok.”
It’s not an invitation to go on, really, yet it makes Chuuya /realize/ he’s being listened to. For real.
The omega clenches his jaw, trying to collect his scattered thoughts. Trying to make them make sense.
“I… it starts before, actually. I’m just mortified.”
“/Mortified/?”
The omega clenches his jaw, trying to collect his scattered thoughts. Trying to make them make sense.
“I… it starts before, actually. I’m just mortified.”
“/Mortified/?”
Scrunching his nose, Chuuya tells himself that he /can/ do this. It’s not helping now, but he can stop talking whenever he wants. If he wants.
Dazai’s not forcing him to, and he— he /wants/ to try.
If anything just to set a precedent, pave the way for a more /honest/ future.
Dazai’s not forcing him to, and he— he /wants/ to try.
If anything just to set a precedent, pave the way for a more /honest/ future.
“I mean, I— I kinda know things will go badly from the start. Because I’m bad at this, y’know.”
Dazai frowns.
“You’re joking.”
“I /am/, ‘Samu. I’m bad at sex and you can /say/ it, it’s ok. I know.”
“I promise you, it’s not true.” His eyes narrow. “You saw what you do to me.”
Dazai frowns.
“You’re joking.”
“I /am/, ‘Samu. I’m bad at sex and you can /say/ it, it’s ok. I know.”
“I promise you, it’s not true.” His eyes narrow. “You saw what you do to me.”
“Because you have shitty taste and charity cases turn you on.”
Dazai’s lips close in a thin, severe line. He’s disappointed.
“I didn’t ask you so you could insult yourself, Chuuya,” he says.
It’s low, as if Dazai could fight the omega on what he just said. A /real/ fight.
Dazai’s lips close in a thin, severe line. He’s disappointed.
“I didn’t ask you so you could insult yourself, Chuuya,” he says.
It’s low, as if Dazai could fight the omega on what he just said. A /real/ fight.
What a funny thing to say, when Dazai is the first one to insult himself all the time.
When he refuses to eat, sleep, /hope/.
When he has so little regard for his own life that every step he takes seems to be balanced on an invisible silver string between life and death.
When he refuses to eat, sleep, /hope/.
When he has so little regard for his own life that every step he takes seems to be balanced on an invisible silver string between life and death.
When you look at Dazai Osamu and there’s no glimpse of future, /but/ you can almost imagine how the rain will fall on his grave.
How lonely it will be.
Funny, how the alpha so violently defends Chuuya when he doesn’t respect himself at all.
But Chuuya shrugs the comment away.
How lonely it will be.
Funny, how the alpha so violently defends Chuuya when he doesn’t respect himself at all.
But Chuuya shrugs the comment away.
He pushes closer, slipping one leg between Dazai’s thighs in search of warmth.
The alpha doesn’t complain.
“What I mean is, sex is about relaxing, yeah? I’m in my head all the time.” Chuuya grimaces. “Trust me, it’s not a nice place. And I don’t fucking want to be there.”
The alpha doesn’t complain.
“What I mean is, sex is about relaxing, yeah? I’m in my head all the time.” Chuuya grimaces. “Trust me, it’s not a nice place. And I don’t fucking want to be there.”
When Dazai lets out a low hmm, Chuuya just knows that he’s hearing him /perfectly/.
“I know,” Dazai murmurs.
They are such horrible places, their heads. Heavy. Stiff. Devoid of light.
That’s why they’re good for each other. They keep the other afloat when their emotions drag
“I know,” Dazai murmurs.
They are such horrible places, their heads. Heavy. Stiff. Devoid of light.
That’s why they’re good for each other. They keep the other afloat when their emotions drag
them down — loving or, at times, hurting each other.
Their minds speak a common language of /shame/.
Of pain.
Of being flesh and blood, but feeling barely human at all.
Chuuya clears his voice.
He goes on, voice strangled, finding it impossible to keep it in once he left
Their minds speak a common language of /shame/.
Of pain.
Of being flesh and blood, but feeling barely human at all.
Chuuya clears his voice.
He goes on, voice strangled, finding it impossible to keep it in once he left
the door ajar.
It /all/ floods out.
“And I want /so/ much during heats, so I try. But then I do and it hurts to even think about something in me and— I don’t want that. I don’t know what I want.
It’s so stupid.
And then I ask myself /why/ I can’t keep a relationship. I—“
It /all/ floods out.
“And I want /so/ much during heats, so I try. But then I do and it hurts to even think about something in me and— I don’t want that. I don’t know what I want.
It’s so stupid.
And then I ask myself /why/ I can’t keep a relationship. I—“
Ah. He’s rambling again, isn’t he?Chuuya sighs, trying to find his footing as well as comfort in Dazai’s closeness.
Trying to make it hurt less/ because every word is tearing him apart, unveiling wounds that have been festering for /years/.
Dazai’s eyes soften as he leans in.
Trying to make it hurt less/ because every word is tearing him apart, unveiling wounds that have been festering for /years/.
Dazai’s eyes soften as he leans in.
He cups Chuuya’s cheek, and the omega /flinches/.
He doesn’t /deserve/ such kindness.
“Chibi…”
“It’s a damn joke, ‘Samu,” He blinks away /tears/ before they can roll down his cheek, escaping past his lashes. “I never asked for any of this.
I just want to be fucking normal.”
He doesn’t /deserve/ such kindness.
“Chibi…”
“It’s a damn joke, ‘Samu,” He blinks away /tears/ before they can roll down his cheek, escaping past his lashes. “I never asked for any of this.
I just want to be fucking normal.”
It’s the strength of the sentence — that escaped Chuuya’s lips with the ferocity of a rabid beast — that finally prompts Dazai to move.
He leans in. Close, closer.
He touches his forehead against Chuuya’s. The tips of their noses brush one against the other, breaths mixed.
He leans in. Close, closer.
He touches his forehead against Chuuya’s. The tips of their noses brush one against the other, breaths mixed.
He cradles the omega’s neck, keeping him close.
As he stares in honey-gold eyes, Chuuya wonders where did that tinge of red go. If it was ever there in the first place.
“What /is/ normal, anyway?” Dazai asks.
His voice is deep, low, like heavy velvet over Chuuya’s sore body.
As he stares in honey-gold eyes, Chuuya wonders where did that tinge of red go. If it was ever there in the first place.
“What /is/ normal, anyway?” Dazai asks.
His voice is deep, low, like heavy velvet over Chuuya’s sore body.
Chuuya winces.
It’s a bit of an empty remark, because anybody else would gladly explain to Chuuya what /exactly/ is considered normal.
People would /adore/ to list the many ways in which Chuuya is failing society and his second gender, yet—
Yet it’s weirdly /calming/.
It’s a bit of an empty remark, because anybody else would gladly explain to Chuuya what /exactly/ is considered normal.
People would /adore/ to list the many ways in which Chuuya is failing society and his second gender, yet—
Yet it’s weirdly /calming/.
The omega inhales. He breathes in Dazai, his scent of mint and whisky and gauze and crisp, sharp paper.
“Not me.”
“Not you,” Dazai murmurs, almost against his mouth. “And not me either. Normal is just a word.”
“But— you are ok with it.”
Chuuya finds himself regretting
“Not me.”
“Not you,” Dazai murmurs, almost against his mouth. “And not me either. Normal is just a word.”
“But— you are ok with it.”
Chuuya finds himself regretting
that sentence as soon as it leaves his lips.
Being more quick-witted and detached than most people seems so /natural/ to the alpha.
Still, Chuuya doesn’t know if Dazai is truly fine with it. If he ever feels lonely.
All he knows is that Dazai doesn’t /act/ bothered.
Being more quick-witted and detached than most people seems so /natural/ to the alpha.
Still, Chuuya doesn’t know if Dazai is truly fine with it. If he ever feels lonely.
All he knows is that Dazai doesn’t /act/ bothered.
Chuuya sighs.
He searches for Dazai’s gaze. So /reassuring/, so familiar. It reminds Chuuya of the first night he spent in a scary, new house he now calls /home/.
“I mean… what I’m saying is that you /seem/ ok with not being what others think you should be.”
“I learned.”
He searches for Dazai’s gaze. So /reassuring/, so familiar. It reminds Chuuya of the first night he spent in a scary, new house he now calls /home/.
“I mean… what I’m saying is that you /seem/ ok with not being what others think you should be.”
“I learned.”
Weakly, the omega flashes him a smile.
It remains unreturned, though Dazai’s touch is still gentle.
It leaves invisible, warm paths under Chuuya’s skin.
“Like you’re learning about /us/?”
“I like learning about Chibi,” Dazai says. “The rest is a necessary pain in the ass.”
It remains unreturned, though Dazai’s touch is still gentle.
It leaves invisible, warm paths under Chuuya’s skin.
“Like you’re learning about /us/?”
“I like learning about Chibi,” Dazai says. “The rest is a necessary pain in the ass.”
Colorless. Remiss.
Yeah, Dazai doesn’t give a shit, Chuuya thinks.
Or he’s still keeping him /out/.
Frankly, the omega doesn’t know which option bothers him more. Therefore, he refuses to dwell on it.
“Well.” Chuuya clicks his tongue. “You don’t care, fine. /I/ hate it.
Yeah, Dazai doesn’t give a shit, Chuuya thinks.
Or he’s still keeping him /out/.
Frankly, the omega doesn’t know which option bothers him more. Therefore, he refuses to dwell on it.
“Well.” Chuuya clicks his tongue. “You don’t care, fine. /I/ hate it.
Y’know when people kind of fit a certain description, belong to a certain group? That was never me.”
Pure hatred seeping through the cracks of his voice, Chuuya breathes in.
Dazai is letting himself speak and the words fly out of his mouth, but the thing Chuuya can’t bring
Pure hatred seeping through the cracks of his voice, Chuuya breathes in.
Dazai is letting himself speak and the words fly out of his mouth, but the thing Chuuya can’t bring
himself to explain is the loneliness. The sense of being wrong, and the only broken toy in an ocean of perfectly functioning omegas.
People told him about heats.
His body even started asking for an alpha.
He saw it in mags, movies, school. on the internet.
All he knew was—
People told him about heats.
His body even started asking for an alpha.
He saw it in mags, movies, school. on the internet.
All he knew was—
—He never saw anybody like himself.
“It’s like I don’t fucking exist,” the omega goes on, voice raspy from the effort. “I can never do shit right. I’m a people pleaser if I /try/, and selfish if I say I /can’t/.
And— I don’t know. Sometimes I just wanted to see myself somewhere.
“It’s like I don’t fucking exist,” the omega goes on, voice raspy from the effort. “I can never do shit right. I’m a people pleaser if I /try/, and selfish if I say I /can’t/.
And— I don’t know. Sometimes I just wanted to see myself somewhere.
And, as everybody kept ignoring the issue, at least it became obvious that normality /wasn’t/ whatever the hell I was.
But it wasn’t valid enough to be discussed. And it’s on me, because I never knew how to express this— /this/.
So I just tried to fit in. I forced myself.”
But it wasn’t valid enough to be discussed. And it’s on me, because I never knew how to express this— /this/.
So I just tried to fit in. I forced myself.”
He can see Dazai’s eyes grow wider with every sentence.
At the same time, the omega can sense his own train of thoughts becoming frantic as he goes on. Desperate. Derailing.
It’s a car crash, his head. Out of control.
Yet, absently, Chuuya wonders what’s so weird about that.
At the same time, the omega can sense his own train of thoughts becoming frantic as he goes on. Desperate. Derailing.
It’s a car crash, his head. Out of control.
Yet, absently, Chuuya wonders what’s so weird about that.
That he popped pain killers just to have sex, and they never helped anyway?
That he was so desperate to be accepted?
“I fucking /tried/.” He carries on, incapable to stop at this point. Incapable to shut up, even if it’s /ugly/. “But—”
// ‘Try to keep this one, dear.’ //
That he was so desperate to be accepted?
“I fucking /tried/.” He carries on, incapable to stop at this point. Incapable to shut up, even if it’s /ugly/. “But—”
// ‘Try to keep this one, dear.’ //
// ‘You’re so selfish.’ //
// ‘I’m not saying it’s your fault, but—‘ //
Chuuya snorts, the air burning his lungs like liquid fire.
“I tried to find a reason. A definition that would explain /me/. And at some point, I just wanted somebody to tell me /what the hell/ I was
// ‘I’m not saying it’s your fault, but—‘ //
Chuuya snorts, the air burning his lungs like liquid fire.
“I tried to find a reason. A definition that would explain /me/. And at some point, I just wanted somebody to tell me /what the hell/ I was
supposed to be. I /tried/ to look up for names and tags and orientations, but I can’t find shit, I can’t find /me/ and—“
And his eyes burn.
And his heart drums in its cage.
And he can feel anxiety simmering, swelling in every word.
He’s drowning on air.
It’s /blazing/.
And his eyes burn.
And his heart drums in its cage.
And he can feel anxiety simmering, swelling in every word.
He’s drowning on air.
It’s /blazing/.
His words are suffocating him yet they keep rushing out, filterless and strangled, and—
“Chuuya,” Dazai calls, voice /soft/.
Suddenly, gentle hands reach for Chuuya’s face.
The fresh touch skims over his cheeks, his mouth, his fluttering pulse point.
It /grounds/ Chuuya.
“Chuuya,” Dazai calls, voice /soft/.
Suddenly, gentle hands reach for Chuuya’s face.
The fresh touch skims over his cheeks, his mouth, his fluttering pulse point.
It /grounds/ Chuuya.
Suddenly, the omega finds himself breathing again.
He’s fogged up, numb and his tight chest hurts like a bitch still, but— /but/ he’s out of the whirlpool that’s his head.
It’s like Dazai is giving him permission to rest.
Steadily, Dazai drags him out of the terrifying cage
He’s fogged up, numb and his tight chest hurts like a bitch still, but— /but/ he’s out of the whirlpool that’s his head.
It’s like Dazai is giving him permission to rest.
Steadily, Dazai drags him out of the terrifying cage
his mind becomes at times.
He drags the omega back to the here and now; safe.
“Chuuya. Chibi. /Hey/. It’s ok.” Dazai’s murmur resounds soothing, gentle. “Breathe. You’re ok.”
/It’s the anxiety speaking. You’re not alone.
You’re understood.
You exist.
You’re valid./
He drags the omega back to the here and now; safe.
“Chuuya. Chibi. /Hey/. It’s ok.” Dazai’s murmur resounds soothing, gentle. “Breathe. You’re ok.”
/It’s the anxiety speaking. You’re not alone.
You’re understood.
You exist.
You’re valid./
Chuuya breathes in, then out.
When he repeats to himself that he’s /fine/, the voice in his mind sounds like Dazai.
“Sorry,” he wheezes out.
Dazai replies with a peck. Featherlight, barely there, yet so /comforting/.
“Don’t be, baby. It’s ok.”
“It’s just so frustrating.”
When he repeats to himself that he’s /fine/, the voice in his mind sounds like Dazai.
“Sorry,” he wheezes out.
Dazai replies with a peck. Featherlight, barely there, yet so /comforting/.
“Don’t be, baby. It’s ok.”
“It’s just so frustrating.”
Dazai’s hand trails down, finding its way to Chuuya’s neck.
It lingers over Chuuya’s scent glands in soothing, recurring movements that steadily calm the omega.
“I know, sweetheart. I /know/.”
“I’m fine,” he says.
It’s a lie.
Dazai can read right through it,
It lingers over Chuuya’s scent glands in soothing, recurring movements that steadily calm the omega.
“I know, sweetheart. I /know/.”
“I’m fine,” he says.
It’s a lie.
Dazai can read right through it,
Chuuya /knows/ he can. Yet, he nods.
“I know you are, Chibi.”
“I could never talk to anybody like this before,” Chuuya hums. “Y’know, about the mess that it’s being me.”
“You are /not/ a mess,” Dazai says.
The omega doesn’t fight the comment, though he would like to.
“I know you are, Chibi.”
“I could never talk to anybody like this before,” Chuuya hums. “Y’know, about the mess that it’s being me.”
“You are /not/ a mess,” Dazai says.
The omega doesn’t fight the comment, though he would like to.
He doesn’t know if it’s the heat or the hormones or just having bottled up so much for so long, but suddenly Chuuya feels /overwhelmed/.
He leans into Dazai’s touch, chest heaving, wondering if things will get better.
The easy reply would have been: ‘I can’t take penetration.
He leans into Dazai’s touch, chest heaving, wondering if things will get better.
The easy reply would have been: ‘I can’t take penetration.
Not at all. That killed my idea of intimacy, too.
It scared me into thinking I would never mate.’
Yet, turns out, there is /no/ easy reply.
And that simple explanation, so dearly hidden close to the omega’s heart, only blocked the way for a thousand other answers.
It scared me into thinking I would never mate.’
Yet, turns out, there is /no/ easy reply.
And that simple explanation, so dearly hidden close to the omega’s heart, only blocked the way for a thousand other answers.
“Sorry I vomited this on you.”
“I asked, baby. I /wanted/ to know.”
Chuuya still throws him an apologetic smile. He stretches his neck to allow more /access/ to Dazai’s fingers, still tracing circles on his neck.
“Bet you’re regretting it, huh?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“I asked, baby. I /wanted/ to know.”
Chuuya still throws him an apologetic smile. He stretches his neck to allow more /access/ to Dazai’s fingers, still tracing circles on his neck.
“Bet you’re regretting it, huh?”
“Not even a little bit.”
Dazai’s voice pours like fresh water off Chuuya’s senses, kicked into overdrive by the heat. “Can I ask you something else?”
“I guess?” Chuuya replies.
He’s drained, and hopes it won’t be too complicated, but Dazai squints.
“…Does Chuuya consider himself a saké bottle?”
“I guess?” Chuuya replies.
He’s drained, and hopes it won’t be too complicated, but Dazai squints.
“…Does Chuuya consider himself a saké bottle?”
Staring at his boyfriend, Chuuya tries to make sense of the question.
A saké bottle. Fucking saké.
…What the hell, honestly.
He gawks.
Dazai blinks right back, waiting for an answer as Chuuya’s lips part in an ‘o’.
God, Dazai’s crazy. Or maybe he’s just bullshitting him.
A saké bottle. Fucking saké.
…What the hell, honestly.
He gawks.
Dazai blinks right back, waiting for an answer as Chuuya’s lips part in an ‘o’.
God, Dazai’s crazy. Or maybe he’s just bullshitting him.
“A— saké bottle?” The omega echoes, frowning in confusion.
Dazai nods.
“Hm-m.”
“Is that an innuendo?”
“No. No,” the alpha says, with a slight bob of his head. “Is Chuuya a bottle that must be identical to all the others?”
“…I don’t /think/ so? I’m not a shitty bottle.”
Dazai nods.
“Hm-m.”
“Is that an innuendo?”
“No. No,” the alpha says, with a slight bob of his head. “Is Chuuya a bottle that must be identical to all the others?”
“…I don’t /think/ so? I’m not a shitty bottle.”
The answer seems to satisfy Dazai, who nods.
He stills traces patterns on Chuuya’s neck, quietly.
“Exactly. Then it’s fine if Chuuya can’t find himself in a tag. When you go to buy sake for lunch—”
“Only you buy sake for lunch, idiot.”
Dazai rolls his eyes.
He stills traces patterns on Chuuya’s neck, quietly.
“Exactly. Then it’s fine if Chuuya can’t find himself in a tag. When you go to buy sake for lunch—”
“Only you buy sake for lunch, idiot.”
Dazai rolls his eyes.
“Well, when /I/ buy sake for lunch, all the bottles are different but the same. They must fit some guidelines to be proper saké, and of the proper brand. The tags explain their characteristic, and they are necessary and absolute.”
/Oddly specific/, Chuuya thinks to himself.
/Oddly specific/, Chuuya thinks to himself.
But then Dazai looks at him almost evaluating his next words, and the omega forces himself to follow the reasoning.
“Ok, and…?”
“But Chuuya is not a saké bottle.”
“No shit.”
Dazai shoots him a smile, eyes shiny with mischief. “Though he /is/ tiny and surely tastes good.”
“Ok, and…?”
“But Chuuya is not a saké bottle.”
“No shit.”
Dazai shoots him a smile, eyes shiny with mischief. “Though he /is/ tiny and surely tastes good.”
“So it /was/ an innuendo!” Chuuya shrieks, flushing.
And it gets even more embarrassing because Dazai waves his embarrassment off like he’s being /childish/.
“My point being, most people don’t have a tag that describes their characteristics.”
Chuuya blinks.
And it gets even more embarrassing because Dazai waves his embarrassment off like he’s being /childish/.
“My point being, most people don’t have a tag that describes their characteristics.”
Chuuya blinks.
It clicks, then.
The metaphor shouldn’t make sense, especially not with saké, but it /does/.
“/Ah/,” the redhead says out loud.
“It’s ok. Chuuya is Chuuya. And you don’t need /tags/ to be a person.”
// And you don’t need to belong to a category to be valid. //
The metaphor shouldn’t make sense, especially not with saké, but it /does/.
“/Ah/,” the redhead says out loud.
“It’s ok. Chuuya is Chuuya. And you don’t need /tags/ to be a person.”
// And you don’t need to belong to a category to be valid. //
“That is… weirdly smart.”
The alpha grins. “It’s obvious, actually.”
“Stop it. You’re smart.”
“I am,” Dazai says. He lift his hand, thumb now tenderly skimming over Chuuya’s jawbone. “And, even if this was a simple reasoning, I agree it must seem smart to a shrimp.”
“Hey—!”
The alpha grins. “It’s obvious, actually.”
“Stop it. You’re smart.”
“I am,” Dazai says. He lift his hand, thumb now tenderly skimming over Chuuya’s jawbone. “And, even if this was a simple reasoning, I agree it must seem smart to a shrimp.”
“Hey—!”
“But did it help?”
“A little.” Chuuya rolls his eyes. “Your stupid alcoholic metaphor /works/. Though it won’t change much for now.”
“It’s fine. As long as Chuuya tries to remember that he’s a person, and a very special one.”
The omega nods. “/But/ saké is not a proper lunch.”
“A little.” Chuuya rolls his eyes. “Your stupid alcoholic metaphor /works/. Though it won’t change much for now.”
“It’s fine. As long as Chuuya tries to remember that he’s a person, and a very special one.”
The omega nods. “/But/ saké is not a proper lunch.”
Dazai frowns, patting the arc of Chuuya’s lips.
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s rice, silly slug. Food.”
Chuuya grimaces.
Smart, he said? Hell no. Those bandages are /obviously/ blocking oxygen from reaching the guy’s head.
“No it’s not, and I bet your Oda guy agrees with me.”
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s rice, silly slug. Food.”
Chuuya grimaces.
Smart, he said? Hell no. Those bandages are /obviously/ blocking oxygen from reaching the guy’s head.
“No it’s not, and I bet your Oda guy agrees with me.”
Dazai scrunches his nose. He seems to think over it for a moment.
“Odasaku doesn’t count.”
Chuuya’s stomach sinks.
He didn’t expect Dazai to brush off the subject so /quickly/, as if he wants nothing to do with it.
He didn’t expect to be faced with a refusal, not after he
“Odasaku doesn’t count.”
Chuuya’s stomach sinks.
He didn’t expect Dazai to brush off the subject so /quickly/, as if he wants nothing to do with it.
He didn’t expect to be faced with a refusal, not after he
laid his heart and /wounds/ open in front of the alpha.
Not after he opened a door, and found another one closed shut in response.
It’s just plain avoidance, and it /hurts/.
“Why?”
Dazai scoffs a chuckle. “Because, Chibi, he only likes tremendously spicy curry. He’s biased.”
Not after he opened a door, and found another one closed shut in response.
It’s just plain avoidance, and it /hurts/.
“Why?”
Dazai scoffs a chuckle. “Because, Chibi, he only likes tremendously spicy curry. He’s biased.”
Well, the omega supposes, at least /Odasaku/ is eating. And he must be a shitty friend if he never forced some food down Dazai’s throat as the idiot starves himself.
Still— still he wants to know this Oda.
He wants to know all of Dazai. Just like Dazai, now, knows him fully.
Still— still he wants to know this Oda.
He wants to know all of Dazai. Just like Dazai, now, knows him fully.
Cards on the table, Chuuya has no secrets to keep anymore. He’s still ashamed, but Dazai knows it all.
“Well, still sounds better than saké.”
“Chibi’s just mean~”
He just hopes—
“Will you introduce us?” Chuuya asks.
—He just hopes Dazai will find the courage to do the same.
“Well, still sounds better than saké.”
“Chibi’s just mean~”
He just hopes—
“Will you introduce us?” Chuuya asks.
—He just hopes Dazai will find the courage to do the same.
(In hindsight, though— /why/ did he want to know?
Why did he /ask/?
Was Chuuya ever ready, was he ever going to understand?
…Ah.
He should have wished more carefully.)
Why did he /ask/?
Was Chuuya ever ready, was he ever going to understand?
…Ah.
He should have wished more carefully.)
Dazai’s hand leaves Chuuya’s face, then. It’s /cold/, all of a sudden, without the alpha’s fingertips on him.
“At some point, yes. Soon.”
“You keep saying ‘soon’ like it means shit,” the omega says.
“I’m serious, Chuuya. I will.”
// Later. //
“At some point, yes. Soon.”
“You keep saying ‘soon’ like it means shit,” the omega says.
“I’m serious, Chuuya. I will.”
// Later. //
He says ‘later’ hoping Chuuya will eventually forget, just like the bandages.
But he doesn’t want to /beg/ Dazai. He wants the alpha to talk to him because he’s ready.
So Chuuya points at the chick plushie, at its black bead-like eyes staring at them from the bed’s end.
But he doesn’t want to /beg/ Dazai. He wants the alpha to talk to him because he’s ready.
So Chuuya points at the chick plushie, at its black bead-like eyes staring at them from the bed’s end.
“Chick emoji level of seriousness?” he asks.
Usually, /that/ lifts Dazai spirit — it makes the stubborn alpha more collaborative, even, at times.
This time, though, Dazai smiles a watered down, subtle smile.
“Of course, Chibi.”
/ Somehow, though—
It doesn’t feel honest. /
Usually, /that/ lifts Dazai spirit — it makes the stubborn alpha more collaborative, even, at times.
This time, though, Dazai smiles a watered down, subtle smile.
“Of course, Chibi.”
/ Somehow, though—
It doesn’t feel honest. /
“But /when/?”
“Well, surely not /now/.” Dazai replies curtly.
Like everything in the alpha, his voice can hurt. It opens a hundred cuts under Chuuya’s skin.
“Odasaku’s not here, so can we /please/ drop it? We are talking about you. /That’s/ what matters now.”
Chuuya frowns.
“Well, surely not /now/.” Dazai replies curtly.
Like everything in the alpha, his voice can hurt. It opens a hundred cuts under Chuuya’s skin.
“Odasaku’s not here, so can we /please/ drop it? We are talking about you. /That’s/ what matters now.”
Chuuya frowns.
We are talking about me, he wants to say. /You/ are using it as an escape.
It’s not fair.
And what’s even less fair is that the last orgasm is wearing off, making the omega long for /another/ one.
“Fine,” he manages to say, pulling away. “/Ok/. I’ll go grab some snacks. Then—”
It’s not fair.
And what’s even less fair is that the last orgasm is wearing off, making the omega long for /another/ one.
“Fine,” he manages to say, pulling away. “/Ok/. I’ll go grab some snacks. Then—”
With a wolfish grin, Dazai drags him back in his arms. Their mouths clash, and Chuuya can smell /lust/.
He yields under Dazai’s tongue, parts his lips for him.
And even though he is a little pissed at the alpha, Chuuya still feels it /all/.
Love.
Need.
Understanding.
He yields under Dazai’s tongue, parts his lips for him.
And even though he is a little pissed at the alpha, Chuuya still feels it /all/.
Love.
Need.
Understanding.
And a tender kind of /want/ that stems from their recent conversation.
“Then /I/ have some ideas~” Dazai sing-songs.
Chuuya grins against his boyfriend’s mouth.
“You need to eat first, Mackerel.”
“Yes,” Dazai agrees. “I’ll gladly eat /Chuuya/.”
//Smooth bastard.//
“Then /I/ have some ideas~” Dazai sing-songs.
Chuuya grins against his boyfriend’s mouth.
“You need to eat first, Mackerel.”
“Yes,” Dazai agrees. “I’ll gladly eat /Chuuya/.”
//Smooth bastard.//
“I’ll still bring you something to eat. Get rid of those bandages for me in the meantime?” The omega drawls, taking Dazai’s bottom lip in between his teeth. “We can take a bath.”
Dazai’s eyes catches the light, fondant and sweet.
“I’ll run the bath.”
(…See?
It’s not a yes.)
Dazai’s eyes catches the light, fondant and sweet.
“I’ll run the bath.”
(…See?
It’s not a yes.)
—
“You two horny boys didn’t get /one/ thing of the stuff I asked you. Are you trying to jeopardize my big day?”
Chuuya almost jumps out of his skin.
He thought he was /alone/ in the kitchen, rummaging in the cabinets to find anything edible. He only found coffee and protein
“You two horny boys didn’t get /one/ thing of the stuff I asked you. Are you trying to jeopardize my big day?”
Chuuya almost jumps out of his skin.
He thought he was /alone/ in the kitchen, rummaging in the cabinets to find anything edible. He only found coffee and protein
bars, but he’s glad he threw on some clothes and checked he was wearing them right, this time.
“/Christ/,” Chuuya practically shrieks, turning on his heels.
Verlaine tuts, studying his nephew.
Of course it’s him.
Who other would take pleasure in scaring Chuuya like this?
“/Christ/,” Chuuya practically shrieks, turning on his heels.
Verlaine tuts, studying his nephew.
Of course it’s him.
Who other would take pleasure in scaring Chuuya like this?
“Not yet. Try again.”
“You /scared/ me!”
“Clearly,” Verlaine drawls, pushing into the room. “Enjoyed your escapade at the shrine, mon rossignol?”
…And, shit.
The redhead scowls, trying to muster a confused expression.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, old man.”
“You /scared/ me!”
“Clearly,” Verlaine drawls, pushing into the room. “Enjoyed your escapade at the shrine, mon rossignol?”
…And, shit.
The redhead scowls, trying to muster a confused expression.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, old man.”
Verlaine’s blond eyebrows rise, a mix of sharp amusement and /pity/ written all over his face.
“Oh /please/,” he says. “Don’t insult me.”
Chuuya presses himself against the cabinets, wishing he could just dig a hole for himself and hide.
He refuses to meet the man’s gaze.
“Oh /please/,” he says. “Don’t insult me.”
Chuuya presses himself against the cabinets, wishing he could just dig a hole for himself and hide.
He refuses to meet the man’s gaze.
He’s a sharp, handsome individual, Paul Verlaine.
He carries himself in a way that is too sophisticated for a small, family-run temple in the middle of the mountains, but his presence is always /graceful/ and never suffocating.
And he /loves/ both his nephews.
He carries himself in a way that is too sophisticated for a small, family-run temple in the middle of the mountains, but his presence is always /graceful/ and never suffocating.
And he /loves/ both his nephews.
That doesn’t mean he’s merciful when Chuuya fucks up.
“Was it that obvious?” Chuuya asks, voice thin.
“What to you think?”
“/Well/, I’m sorry.”
The muttered apology comes from the bottom of his heart. Well, he /is/ sincerely mortified about getting caught.
Again.
“Was it that obvious?” Chuuya asks, voice thin.
“What to you think?”
“/Well/, I’m sorry.”
The muttered apology comes from the bottom of his heart. Well, he /is/ sincerely mortified about getting caught.
Again.
Was it the door of the temple? The backwards clothes?
Did they leave an odor plum of slick and /heat/?
But Verlaine snorts.
And he sounds—
“…Come on. You’re no fun.”
—amused?
Chuuya halts.
His body, his /heart/, it all seems to hang from Verlaine’s silence.
“/Huh/?”
Did they leave an odor plum of slick and /heat/?
But Verlaine snorts.
And he sounds—
“…Come on. You’re no fun.”
—amused?
Chuuya halts.
His body, his /heart/, it all seems to hang from Verlaine’s silence.
“/Huh/?”
“Don’t pout.” His uncle’s lips curl up, gaze shining with amusement. “So you finally discovered the privacy of an empty shrine. Congrats.”
Chuuya’s eyes widen.
Why does it sound like he’s the /last/ one to know?
“I— What!?”
“Do you think you’re the first ass Arahabaki sees?”
Chuuya’s eyes widen.
Why does it sound like he’s the /last/ one to know?
“I— What!?”
“Do you think you’re the first ass Arahabaki sees?”
He’s screaming.
Internally, Chuuya is /fucking/ hollering.
He can’t do this, not after the heavy day he just had. Not after Dazai.
And it makes /sense/ that people would use an isolated building where nobody (supposedly) ever goes, but—
But /what the fuck/ indeed.
Internally, Chuuya is /fucking/ hollering.
He can’t do this, not after the heavy day he just had. Not after Dazai.
And it makes /sense/ that people would use an isolated building where nobody (supposedly) ever goes, but—
But /what the fuck/ indeed.
However, since he can’t slam his head against the wall until he unlearns what he just heard, the omega decides to collect his jaw from the floor and blink at his uncle.
“You /didn’t/.”
Verlaine grins.
“Wrong. And you’re officially the last one to break this place’s rules.”
“You /didn’t/.”
Verlaine grins.
“Wrong. And you’re officially the last one to break this place’s rules.”
“No way.”
Voice trailing off in a wheeze, Chuuya feels waves of warmth crawling up his neck.
His brain is glitching.
It’s not like he ever deluded himself that heats and ruts worked for everybody /but/ his family, but he could never think of them as… /well/.
As people.
Voice trailing off in a wheeze, Chuuya feels waves of warmth crawling up his neck.
His brain is glitching.
It’s not like he ever deluded himself that heats and ruts worked for everybody /but/ his family, but he could never think of them as… /well/.
As people.
Even when he lived with Ane-san, she and Akiko had always been /discreet/.
But this?
Has Chuuya been the most well-behaved person in the whole damn family?
“Sorry, mon rossignol.” Verlaine’s smile is not sorry /at all/. “By the way, if you ever need to hide anything in
But this?
Has Chuuya been the most well-behaved person in the whole damn family?
“Sorry, mon rossignol.” Verlaine’s smile is not sorry /at all/. “By the way, if you ever need to hide anything in
there, the floor wooden boards move.”
“Why would I hide shit in there?!”
Verlaine brushes the question away. “I don’t know, convenience?”
Ok. This is way too much information.
“Did /you/ guys hide anything in the shrine?” Chuuya still asks.
And he doesn’t know why he asks,
“Why would I hide shit in there?!”
Verlaine brushes the question away. “I don’t know, convenience?”
Ok. This is way too much information.
“Did /you/ guys hide anything in the shrine?” Chuuya still asks.
And he doesn’t know why he asks,
because he doesn’t want an answer, but his mouth is just /running/ at this point.
What the hell.
He went to the kitchen to fetch some snacks so he can stay in the tub without risking a pressure drop, not to be traumatized by his uncle.
/This/ must be Arahabaki’s punishment.
What the hell.
He went to the kitchen to fetch some snacks so he can stay in the tub without risking a pressure drop, not to be traumatized by his uncle.
/This/ must be Arahabaki’s punishment.
Verlaine shrugs. “Arthur did. So please don’t go sniffing around.”
/Seriously?/
“Ew!? I want to avoid it.”
Not like he’s setting foot in that place ever again.
And he knows uncle Paul is just /teasing/ him, but still… it’s /so/ weird.
The entire conversation feels surreal.
/Seriously?/
“Ew!? I want to avoid it.”
Not like he’s setting foot in that place ever again.
And he knows uncle Paul is just /teasing/ him, but still… it’s /so/ weird.
The entire conversation feels surreal.
“Good. Because it’s stuff that would traumatize your parents if they find out.”
“What about /me/ being traumatized?”
“So dramatic,” Verlaine drawls. There’s a fondness in him that makes Chuuya /suppose/ that the man is proud of him. “You’re a big city boy now, you’ll survive.”
“What about /me/ being traumatized?”
“So dramatic,” Verlaine drawls. There’s a fondness in him that makes Chuuya /suppose/ that the man is proud of him. “You’re a big city boy now, you’ll survive.”
“But…”
“Chuuya,” Verlaine stops him, one eyebrow arching. “It’s an empty room. What did you think?”
“It’s a /shrine/! Creepy as shit!”
“Dear Arahabaki never complained,” the man says. “You’re not the first person whose rut or heat kicks in uninvited during a family reunion.”
“Chuuya,” Verlaine stops him, one eyebrow arching. “It’s an empty room. What did you think?”
“It’s a /shrine/! Creepy as shit!”
“Dear Arahabaki never complained,” the man says. “You’re not the first person whose rut or heat kicks in uninvited during a family reunion.”
Saying that, Verlaine pushes closer. Chuuua can clearly /smell/ the change in the man’s attitude.
He leans his hip against the table, and the amused act slips off his shoulders.
His voice is softer, lower as he asks:
“Speaking of which. How are you /doing/, mon rossignol?”
He leans his hip against the table, and the amused act slips off his shoulders.
His voice is softer, lower as he asks:
“Speaking of which. How are you /doing/, mon rossignol?”
Moving his weight from one leg to the other, Chuuya hesitates.
“Like you guessed, it started.”
He can’t quite bring himself to push out the word ‘heat’.
Too private, still too deeply woven in pain.
“I can smell it on you, yes,” Verlaine says. “Are you alright?”
“Like you guessed, it started.”
He can’t quite bring himself to push out the word ‘heat’.
Too private, still too deeply woven in pain.
“I can smell it on you, yes,” Verlaine says. “Are you alright?”
He didn’t question why he and Dazai didn’t actually go grocery shopping, too much of a gentleman to pry further.
And Chuuya is /grateful/, because his uncle would rush to Mishima’s house and strangle him if he only /knew/.
He doesn’t want him to worry.
“More or less.”
And Chuuya is /grateful/, because his uncle would rush to Mishima’s house and strangle him if he only /knew/.
He doesn’t want him to worry.
“More or less.”
With a tight-lipped smile, Verlaine scrutinizes Chuuya face.
He can feel his uncle’s eyes roaming over his face, looking for the tiniest trace of discomfort.
“You know you don’t have to do anything, right?”
“I know,” Chuuya murmurs. “Dazai is helping too. He— /understands/.”
He can feel his uncle’s eyes roaming over his face, looking for the tiniest trace of discomfort.
“You know you don’t have to do anything, right?”
“I know,” Chuuya murmurs. “Dazai is helping too. He— /understands/.”
Verlaine gives a small nod. Good lad, he seems to say.
“Your little alpha really meant whatever he rambled at dinner, hm?”
Chuuya doesn’t know if it’s because of the audacity of calling Dazai ‘little’ or for the man’s gentle timbre, but the corners of his lips twitch upwards.
“Your little alpha really meant whatever he rambled at dinner, hm?”
Chuuya doesn’t know if it’s because of the audacity of calling Dazai ‘little’ or for the man’s gentle timbre, but the corners of his lips twitch upwards.
// “I wouldn’t mind being bonded to Chuuya, one day.” //
Gosh, he finds himself thinking, that sappy, overdramatic /Mackerel/.
“Apparently,” he hums.
Even though he tried to hide it, Chuuya realizes that his voice sounds /lovestruck/.
It makes him so /mad/, really.
Gosh, he finds himself thinking, that sappy, overdramatic /Mackerel/.
“Apparently,” he hums.
Even though he tried to hide it, Chuuya realizes that his voice sounds /lovestruck/.
It makes him so /mad/, really.
He’s supposed to still be pissed at Dazai for all the secrets, not to sigh internally like a schoolgirl because the Mummy practically expressed the future desire to marry him.
Verlaine works out the reply — and more importantly Chuuya’s /lilt/ —, head cocking to the side.
Verlaine works out the reply — and more importantly Chuuya’s /lilt/ —, head cocking to the side.
He worries at his bottom lip, eyes buried deep in Chuuya’s for what feels like a lifetime.
“Your mother /dislikes/ Dazai.” He says, eventually. Chuuya flinches. “Arthur likes him. Your dad doesn’t mind him — God knows if he minds anything ever, that man, — but your mama? /Oof/.”
“Your mother /dislikes/ Dazai.” He says, eventually. Chuuya flinches. “Arthur likes him. Your dad doesn’t mind him — God knows if he minds anything ever, that man, — but your mama? /Oof/.”
The redhead scowls, trying not to appear as wounded as he truly feels.
His mother disliking Dazai is no news, but it’s her condescending acceptance that /really/ keeps throwing the omega off.
// Try to keep this one, please? //
‘Dislike’ is really an understatement.
His mother disliking Dazai is no news, but it’s her condescending acceptance that /really/ keeps throwing the omega off.
// Try to keep this one, please? //
‘Dislike’ is really an understatement.
It’s not even the fact that his mum sized Dazai up with a glance.
It’s not that she judged him by a few misplaced words.
What really bothers Chuuya is the fact that his own mother is /blind/.
Blind to the beautiful, shiny facets of a boy that is constantly trying /so/ hard.
It’s not that she judged him by a few misplaced words.
What really bothers Chuuya is the fact that his own mother is /blind/.
Blind to the beautiful, shiny facets of a boy that is constantly trying /so/ hard.
“Yeah,” he says, trying not to sound too rude.
It’s still his mother’s /opinion/, and he ought to respect it even if he doesn’t agree with it.
Chuuya supposes he might have been a tad abrasive, though, because the glint in Verlaine’s eye turns sharp.
It’s still his mother’s /opinion/, and he ought to respect it even if he doesn’t agree with it.
Chuuya supposes he might have been a tad abrasive, though, because the glint in Verlaine’s eye turns sharp.
“She doesn’t like your choice, but will settle for the fact that you finally found someone.”
“Yeah. She made /that/ clear.”
“Frankly, that’s bullshit.”
Chuuya winces, taken aback by the comment.
Its harshness almost /slaps/ the omega in the face.
“What?”
“Yeah. She made /that/ clear.”
“Frankly, that’s bullshit.”
Chuuya winces, taken aback by the comment.
Its harshness almost /slaps/ the omega in the face.
“What?”
“Bullshit,” his uncle repeats. “I like your alpha, mon rossignol. But most importantly, it’s obvious that you like him.”
And God… Chuuya /does/ love Dazai. He seriously loves him every day more.
He likes him despite the simmering, constant tension that separates them recently.
And God… Chuuya /does/ love Dazai. He seriously loves him every day more.
He likes him despite the simmering, constant tension that separates them recently.
Chuuya can’t place if that’s due to his constant state of worry or to a fundamental incompatibility, but he doesn’t even want an answer.
He’d rather talk about Arahabaki’s shitty shrine.
Carefully, the redhead nods. “I like him a lot.”
“You know, that’s all that matters.”
He’d rather talk about Arahabaki’s shitty shrine.
Carefully, the redhead nods. “I like him a lot.”
“You know, that’s all that matters.”
Is it /enough/, though?
“I just want this to work.”
“Don’t we all,” Verlaine hums. A distant smile plays on his lips. “You know, mon rossignol— relationships, the good ones, are a bother. They’re a mess.
Look at me; I /really/ thought I lost Arthur some time ago. I fucked up.”
“I just want this to work.”
“Don’t we all,” Verlaine hums. A distant smile plays on his lips. “You know, mon rossignol— relationships, the good ones, are a bother. They’re a mess.
Look at me; I /really/ thought I lost Arthur some time ago. I fucked up.”
Ah, so they are /really/ renovating their vows after a huge argument. If Chuuya knows his uncles at all, someone ended up calling the police. Gunshots might have been fired, even.
Chuuya offers him an apologetic nod.
“I’m sorry.”
“We’re fine now. Don’t worry,” Verlaine says.
Chuuya offers him an apologetic nod.
“I’m sorry.”
“We’re fine now. Don’t worry,” Verlaine says.
He acts like he’s riffling through meaningless memories, yet his voice falls heavy between them. “But you two— you remind me of me and Arthur. Complicated. Overwhelming. Painful, probably.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes. “Yup.”
Verlaine grins.
“Yet it’s all damn worth it, isn’t it?”
Chuuya rolls his eyes. “Yup.”
Verlaine grins.
“Yet it’s all damn worth it, isn’t it?”
And Chuuya can’t but grin right back.
He runs a hand through his hair, trying to not /vomit/ on his uncle what he already dumped on Dazai. All his fears, and how the alpha is soothing them.
“Yes,” he murmurs. “I’m in good hands. Dazai is helping in any way he can, even now.”
He runs a hand through his hair, trying to not /vomit/ on his uncle what he already dumped on Dazai. All his fears, and how the alpha is soothing them.
“Yes,” he murmurs. “I’m in good hands. Dazai is helping in any way he can, even now.”
And Chuuya’s forehead crinkles as he frowns, mind running to his heat. It’s a throbbing presence in his crotch, in the back of his head. “/Especially/ now.”
// And we both know that’s rotten work, taking care of me. //
Verlaine nods.
His posture relaxes as if he was hoping for
// And we both know that’s rotten work, taking care of me. //
Verlaine nods.
His posture relaxes as if he was hoping for
such an answer.
“I’m glad your Dazai is a good one,” he says, head bobbing down. “But, if you don’t mind me asking… is he alright?”
Chuuya bites his bottom lip.
He hmms, buying time.
Nobody will like his answer, and he can’t even swear by it.
“Honestly? I don’t /know/.”
—
“I’m glad your Dazai is a good one,” he says, head bobbing down. “But, if you don’t mind me asking… is he alright?”
Chuuya bites his bottom lip.
He hmms, buying time.
Nobody will like his answer, and he can’t even swear by it.
“Honestly? I don’t /know/.”
—
Mori always calls when he shouldn’t.
Right now, Dazai should be in the middle of a wedding vows renewal. Chuuya and his family are in the temple’s garden, celebrating his uncles.
/He/ stands in Chuuya’s room, alone, on the phone with the Port Mafia’s surgeon.
Yet…
Right now, Dazai should be in the middle of a wedding vows renewal. Chuuya and his family are in the temple’s garden, celebrating his uncles.
/He/ stands in Chuuya’s room, alone, on the phone with the Port Mafia’s surgeon.
Yet…
He can take advantage of this.
“One last thing,” Dazai drawls, pressing the phone against his ear. “I was wondering if you can take care of something for me, Mori-san.”
On the other end of the line, Mori stalls.
“Maybe,” he says.
“Ever heard of a guy named Yukio Mishima?”
“One last thing,” Dazai drawls, pressing the phone against his ear. “I was wondering if you can take care of something for me, Mori-san.”
On the other end of the line, Mori stalls.
“Maybe,” he says.
“Ever heard of a guy named Yukio Mishima?”
“Hm. It may ring a bell.”
Dazai’s stomach drops, but he tells himself that it doesn’t mean anything.
It doesn’t mean Mishima is dangerous, especially after he crumpled up like wet paper under Dazai’s stare.
/He/ is certainly not the kind of man who runs with the Port Mafia.
Dazai’s stomach drops, but he tells himself that it doesn’t mean anything.
It doesn’t mean Mishima is dangerous, especially after he crumpled up like wet paper under Dazai’s stare.
/He/ is certainly not the kind of man who runs with the Port Mafia.
Padding to the window that overlooks the front yard, Dazai drinks in the information.
He can glimpse at Chuuya from up here — fiery red hair in a bun, a laughter that rings over the courtyard.
/His to protect./
“I guessed so. The guy says he has connections to the mafia.”
He can glimpse at Chuuya from up here — fiery red hair in a bun, a laughter that rings over the courtyard.
/His to protect./
“I guessed so. The guy says he has connections to the mafia.”
Mori lets out a small, almost puerile /oh?/.
“Oh~? Does he, now?”
“It might be just empty talk, but…”
“Why do you ask, Dazai-kun?” Mori nudges him, words rolling sweet and sharp into Dazai’s ear. “Why now? You never interested yourself with the business.”
“Oh~? Does he, now?”
“It might be just empty talk, but…”
“Why do you ask, Dazai-kun?” Mori nudges him, words rolling sweet and sharp into Dazai’s ear. “Why now? You never interested yourself with the business.”
The business, as if his late father was just a businessman like any other.
And Dazai doesn’t appreciate the insinuation, but Mori /did/ teach him something. Dazai always regarded himself as a decent student.
He’s smiling as he glances out the window, yet his voice sounds cold.
And Dazai doesn’t appreciate the insinuation, but Mori /did/ teach him something. Dazai always regarded himself as a decent student.
He’s smiling as he glances out the window, yet his voice sounds cold.
“I’m not interested in the Port Mafia, Mori-san. I just need to keep Mishima away.”
“That’s more than you asked of me in years, and you surely understand how this is different than demanding a blank cheque.” A pause. “/Why/?”
It’s certainly an odd request, he’ll admit. He has
“That’s more than you asked of me in years, and you surely understand how this is different than demanding a blank cheque.” A pause. “/Why/?”
It’s certainly an odd request, he’ll admit. He has
to give Mori something back — an explanation, at least.
“This guy is bothering my boyfriend,” he says.
Dazai can hear the stunned surprise in Mori’s silence.
He said it.
He has a /boyfriend/.
In a kinder world, that shouldn’t come as a surprise to his own damn guardian.
“This guy is bothering my boyfriend,” he says.
Dazai can hear the stunned surprise in Mori’s silence.
He said it.
He has a /boyfriend/.
In a kinder world, that shouldn’t come as a surprise to his own damn guardian.
He and Chuuya have been together for a while; not much, really, but enough time for a parent to /know/.
He’s been introduced to Chuuya’s family — he can see Kouyou from the window, ruffling her younger brother’s hair.
Chuuya’s uncles.
His /parents/.
However, when Chuuya
He’s been introduced to Chuuya’s family — he can see Kouyou from the window, ruffling her younger brother’s hair.
Chuuya’s uncles.
His /parents/.
However, when Chuuya
moved in, Mori didn’t ask about Dazai’s new roommate and the alpha didn’t feel the urge to clarify.
‘I’m splitting the rent,’ he said, and that was it.
“That’s where you are now? With your boyfriend?”
“Will you /do/ what I asked or not?” Dazai rumbles, ignoring the question.
‘I’m splitting the rent,’ he said, and that was it.
“That’s where you are now? With your boyfriend?”
“Will you /do/ what I asked or not?” Dazai rumbles, ignoring the question.
He’ll shield Chuuya from Mori and any connection with the Port Mafia for as long as he can — forever, possibly.
It’s one of those things Chuuya doesn’t need to know.
Dazai doesn’t have any connection to the mafia apart from a thick alpha blood and an murky legacy, anyway.
It’s one of those things Chuuya doesn’t need to know.
Dazai doesn’t have any connection to the mafia apart from a thick alpha blood and an murky legacy, anyway.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He’s been around enough to discern the threat behind the vague reply.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Mori drawls. “I’m glad you came to me, Dazai-kun.”
At that, the alpha can barely contain a snort.
So he cares, now. Guardian of the year, really.
He’s been around enough to discern the threat behind the vague reply.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Mori drawls. “I’m glad you came to me, Dazai-kun.”
At that, the alpha can barely contain a snort.
So he cares, now. Guardian of the year, really.
“Just make sure to not overdo it.” Oh, he’d want Mishima dead. He’d want him hurt. But— “The guy has a small child and I’m not a monster.”
He’s not like Mori. He remembers nothing of his father, but he likes to think he’s nothing like him either.
He might be a child who bloomed
He’s not like Mori. He remembers nothing of his father, but he likes to think he’s nothing like him either.
He might be a child who bloomed
from the pitch darkness, but he grew into an adult who lives a good, honest life.
Even though his blood sings with violence at times, Dazai is /trying/.
And that—
That /must/ account for something.
“Of course not,” Mori agrees.
Dazai can picture the man nodding to himself.
Even though his blood sings with violence at times, Dazai is /trying/.
And that—
That /must/ account for something.
“Of course not,” Mori agrees.
Dazai can picture the man nodding to himself.
/I’m not a monster/.
Gosh, he /hopes/ that’s true.
He hopes that’s not something coward monsters tell themselves so they can sleep at night.
But…
He’s not doing anything bad per say, right?
Dazai tells himself that as he hangs up on Mori and quickly dials Odasaku’s number.
Gosh, he /hopes/ that’s true.
He hopes that’s not something coward monsters tell themselves so they can sleep at night.
But…
He’s not doing anything bad per say, right?
Dazai tells himself that as he hangs up on Mori and quickly dials Odasaku’s number.
He’s just looking out for Chuuya — that’s the only thought that lives in his mind as he waits for his friend to pick up.
Because Mishima looks like the kind of person who never met more than a lowly thug in his life, but what /if/.
Dazai will make sure Mishima lives because he
Because Mishima looks like the kind of person who never met more than a lowly thug in his life, but what /if/.
Dazai will make sure Mishima lives because he
doesn’t deserve such an easy way out.
He is not a murderer, but he’s not merciful either.
And the image of Chuuya on the verge of crying — vulnerable, so scared, so /broken/ — remained carved in his mind.
Mishima did that to him.
Partially, yes, but he /contributed/.
He is not a murderer, but he’s not merciful either.
And the image of Chuuya on the verge of crying — vulnerable, so scared, so /broken/ — remained carved in his mind.
Mishima did that to him.
Partially, yes, but he /contributed/.
But the son—
Orphan himself, Dazai would rather avoid condemning someone else to his same fate.
*The phone rings out*
He just wants the man he loves to be happy.
*Two.*
He’s not a bad person. He’s protecting /his/ omega.
*Three.*
“Damn,” he whispers, “pick up. /Please/.”
Orphan himself, Dazai would rather avoid condemning someone else to his same fate.
*The phone rings out*
He just wants the man he loves to be happy.
*Two.*
He’s not a bad person. He’s protecting /his/ omega.
*Three.*
“Damn,” he whispers, “pick up. /Please/.”
Even if Dazai can’t /face/ Chuuya now, overcame by a shame born from something he can’t change.
That’s why he needs Oda: to be reassured.
*Four.*
Because he’s not a killer, but…
/But/, if Mori will interpret his request in more /creative/ ways, Dazai won’t complain.
That’s why he needs Oda: to be reassured.
*Four.*
Because he’s not a killer, but…
/But/, if Mori will interpret his request in more /creative/ ways, Dazai won’t complain.
“Dazai?” Oda’s voice reaches him from the other end of the line. He sounds so /close/. “Is everything ok? Aren’t you with Chuuya-kun?”
Dazai’s shoulders sag, releasing the tension that had trapped him until that moment.
The well-known voice brings a smile to the alpha’s face.
Dazai’s shoulders sag, releasing the tension that had trapped him until that moment.
The well-known voice brings a smile to the alpha’s face.
It so /soft/, so relieved, that smile.
Because that voice always meant ‘I’m home, now.’
With a soft inhale, Dazai pulls away from the window. Chuuya and his family disappear from his sight as he turns his back to the window pane.
“Hi, Odasaku.”
Because that voice always meant ‘I’m home, now.’
With a soft inhale, Dazai pulls away from the window. Chuuya and his family disappear from his sight as he turns his back to the window pane.
“Hi, Odasaku.”
Because the truth is, Dazai loves Chuuya more than he loves himself.
Everything he did, the half-truths and all the lies, however /wrong/, have been for him.
His savior.
His mate.
His lover.
Nakahara Chuuya is everything Dazai wants, everything he /has/.
Everything he did, the half-truths and all the lies, however /wrong/, have been for him.
His savior.
His mate.
His lover.
Nakahara Chuuya is everything Dazai wants, everything he /has/.
However, in this horrible world that hates him so much, everything the alpha owns is lost already.
It’s all going to slip between his fingers, leaving him grasping nothing.
// “If it becomes too much, leave.”//
He should have known that Chuuya was going to leave first.
—
It’s all going to slip between his fingers, leaving him grasping nothing.
// “If it becomes too much, leave.”//
He should have known that Chuuya was going to leave first.
—
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