Those two once defeated an enemy gifted organization overnight. Their alliance was called the devastating rivalry in history. The alliance returns for one night. Let’s take back our lead. It’s our common front against the Guild. The launch of our retaliation.
Notes:I’ll probably never post on time. Sorry. Anyways, I know we already had a lot of Dazushi, but once I saw this prompt, none other pairing would leave my mind.
by soft kisses on his lips, was nothing new for Atsushi.
every morning around the same time, and once he opened his eyes, he was greeted
by the sight of brown, warm and yet somehow distant ones – by now, he was sure
they would always be distant, no matter what. After blushing a bit like always,
he would snuggle closer to the warm comfort of his lover’s arms. They would lay
so for a while, Dazai’s face hidden in his white, messy chopped hair, accompanied
by the quiet breathing of his lover and the sound of their beating hearts.
hour later, Atsushi would finally gather the energy to stand up and leave the
warmth behind, so he could drag himself into the bathroom to take a warm,
soothing shower. Only minutes later, he would feel arms warp around his waist,
knowing Dazai followed him in. While it was mostly because Dazai liked to be
near him all the time, Atsushi knew for a fact, that used the warm water to
wake himself up. Yes, Dazai was the first to wake up. Around 2-3 in the morning.
No matter how much his lover wanted to hid it, Atsushi saw the bags, concealed
by make-up, beneath his eyes and the occasional closing of his eyes for some
seconds. It was easy to see behind Dazai’s mask, once you knew when and where
themselves for work, Atsushi would drag Dazai into the kitchen and seat him on
chair, ignoring the usual winning of his lover.
“You’re my pillow, Atsushi-kun~” or “Don’t leave my side, or I might die of loneliness!”
would procced to make them a simple breakfast, consisting of eggs, bacon and fresh
bread with some coffee, mostly for his lover, and tea. Atsushi didn’t like the
bitter taste of coffee very much, so whenever he drank it, Dazai knew immediately,
that something was wrong.
eat and Dazai would finish as first, then he would lay his head onto Atsushi’s
shoulder and hum some melody, until Atsushi finished. After that Atsushi left
everything in the sink, knowing he would have the afternoon to wash the dishes.
After that both would, even though Dazai
unwilling, walk their way to the agency, so that they could begin their work.
In lieu of soukoku episode release & soukoku week, I decided to post a soukoku fic at last ヾ(´▽｀;)ゝ
tl;dr: An introspective overview of Dazai and Chuuya’s relationship over the years, told in five brief parts; from childhood, to the Dark Era, till the very end; and me postulating the ending of BSD encompassing much angst and tragedy.
- table of contents -
i. The Worst Day Ever ii. The Scariest Day Ever iii. The Absolute Worst Day Ever iv. The Happiest Day Ever v. The Worst Day Ever
i. The Worst Day Ever
There wasn’t really anything that happened between them.
“Your face pisses me off.”
“As does yours.”
“I’m glad it’s mutual.”
Perhaps it’s meant to be. Their first look at one another left a sour aftertaste at the back of their tongues, like the revolting bitterness of herbal medicines. It’s strong, it’s repugnant, it’s also inexplicable – arising as naturally as the Sun from the east. The French use the saying, “le coup de foudre”; perhaps between them lightning struck too hard, and the nasty burn that it left behind sizzled on for many years to come.
It’s not like Chuuya can ever forget that day – he even went on to elegantly coin it with a name of utmost sophistication (‘The Worst Day Ever’). It’s as if he is forced to endure the taste of cheap, oxidized beer; the odious gaze of those black eyes from across the room left in him a prickly sensation of disgust, coupled with the urge to flee at once.
Not that he could. “Now, lads, no fighting,” instructed Kouyou, her tone motherly. Her eyes shot him a knowing look, and Chuuya understood the threat that came beneath that beaming visage. “The Boss insists you lads be cordial.”
“How ‘bout no.” Chuuya mutters, eyeing the other boy suspiciously.
“My sentiments exactly,” says the boy with a subdued glower.
Kouyou’s smile only widens to terrifying proportions, and she says nothing, turning to grin at the man standing behind the young boy. It is the boy’s caregiver, Mori; a figure whose role paralleled hers to Chuuya. The man shrugs, amused.
Meanwhile the boys are engaged in their own interaction of silent looks, scrutinizing one another with disdainful contempt; between them stood a battlefield of sheer eyepower and pride, alongside equal prowess of detestation flung at one another carelessly like spears, hitting all but their target’s unyielding ego. Neither relents. Neither triumphs either.
Their stalemate is abruptly broken when Kouyou, with her heavy kimono and large traditional umbrella, steps in regally between them, the slight smile of her face both mystifying and alluring at once. Both boys are halted, and turn their gaze towards her subliminal beauty in stunned wonder.
She turns to each of them, tossing charming glances through half-lidded eyes – enrapturing them with the exquisite sheen glimmering in her eyes. She grins. Mori watches on, respectfully amused at Kouyou’s wit.
“Orders are orders, lads,” says she, emancipating an immeasurable amount of matured charisma.
The two boys dumbly nod, eyes fixated and enthralled like the bewitched; unquestioning.
It is only much later that Chuuya realises what he had agreed to, and groans in unfathomable regret and angst at perhaps the worst command of all time.
No one knows why, but when we let out the dogs before the night Yggur just…fucks off. No one knows why, or exactly where, but very often we just go about our way, forget he’s still outside, close the doors and go to bed. And it’s usually fine because he’ll seek refuge in the building where we keep the hay where he’ll stay dry and warm for the night at least. Except now he wasn’t having it, and I was already wondering wtf the noises beneath my window were.
It was Yggur. A wet heap of miserable black dog. Close to wailing because he wanted to be inside and not outside in the storm. :(
the cheeto has nothing to do with now. it does not know how my limbs feel or my energy spins. it is entirely ignorant of the magnificent sound of my dog’s sigh. i am not an i, but still grasp the value of the sound as best i can from the aware spot watching, close my own fakery. shantideva, the lazy monk calls and i know still the work bends breath toward in and back out again.