waddup dog



Part Nineteen Part Eighteen Parts One-Seventeen Part Where Rickroll Happened

I actually tried to get this one out a lot sooner but any other time I tried to make it the website crashed DX So let’s hope this one gets uploaded quickly and without circumstance.

Also, I can’t believe I’ve made twenty edits now! Expect to see a lot more in the next few minutes because I finally have free time and at least seven more requests to get through.

“May I Have This Dance”

When Dazai first approaches Chuuya with another mission at the end of a long day of work, Chuuya is less than thrilled, but when the duo find themselves infiltrating a dance hall to track down a potential threat to the Port Mafia, Chuuya finds he enjoys himself more than he expected.

Notes: so this soukoku fic is a valentine’s day present for my beloved comrade @amarashii-am we talked about something like this back in like december I think, and I finally got around to writing it! I hope you enjoy it! 

*****************************************************************************************************Chuuya stared up at the ceiling fan, watching light glint off its twirling blades as it spun back and forth in an unending loop, succeeding in doing nothing more than shoving stale air from one end of the room to another. After an exhausting, seemingly endless day of mafia business, Chuuya could relate to the ceaseless spinning of the ceiling fan more than he cared to admit. “It’s been a long day,” he said aloud to no one, leaning against the doorway as he watched the fan turn round and round. “But at least I’m home now.”

Home. Chuuya snorted at his own sentimentality. It was such a meaningless little word, and certainly not one that applied to this empty apartment that wasn’t even high enough to escape the miasmal stench of the port below.

Chuuya tore his gaze from the ceiling fan long enough to shrug off his overcoat and hang it by the door. He turned suddenly, giving the doorknob a quick twist to make sure it was locked. Assured, Chuuya crossed the room and threw open the French doors that led to the balcony. He had hoped the stifling heat of the summer day might have abated after sunset, but, much to his disappointment, the night air was no cooler than the inside of his apartment. With a sigh, Chuuya shut the doors again. He stared out at the city he had known all his life with lifeless eyes, one gloved hand pressed against the warm glass.


Chuuya whipped around, eyes narrowed. He was certain he had locked the door…

Dazai stood in the doorway, cradling a large, white dry-cleaning bag in his arms. “Oh, so you are home,” he said, meeting Chuuya’s eyes with a radiant smile that instantly put him on guard. “You didn’t leave headquarters very long ago- I wasn’t sure if you’d make it here before I did.”

“If you came here to make polite conversation, get the hell out,” Chuuya snapped. “If not, cut to the chase. I’m too tired to put up with your shit right now.”

Dazai glanced at his watch. “It’s barely a quarter to eight.” A teasing smile crossed his face. “But I guess small children like you get cranky when they miss naptime.”

“You’ll be taking a nap in the fuckin’ ground if you don’t shut the hell up.”

Dazai’s eyes widened. “Do you really mean it? Oh, Chuuya-” Dazai pretended to wipe away tears. “- I can’t believe you’d do something like this for me.”

Chuuya rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t be doing it for your sake, idiot. Especially because it’s your fault I’m so tired in the first place!”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Oh, yes the fuck it is!” Chuuya cried. “You’re the one who kept me up until four in the morning going over names for strategies. I tried to leave, like, five times, but you were all, ‘oh, but should we call this one ‘fake flowers deceit’ or ‘this whole thing is stupid, who names their strategies anyway when we could just number them and be done with this shit in five minutes’?”

Dazai chuckled. “I don’t recall that particular strategy.”

“Do you recall me telling you to say whatever you came here to say and get the fuck out of my house?” Chuuya retorted, crossing his arms. “Because every second you waste my time is another second closer to me kicking you in the nuts.”

“Oh, please,” Dazai scoffed. “You wouldn’t-” Dazai’s words melted away when he saw the fire in Chuuya’s eyes. He took a step back. “We have a mission.”

“Oh, fuck me.” Chuuya rubbed his temples and sighed. “What’s the mission, then?”

“We’ve gotten intel that a certain member of an enemy organization is going to be frequenting a local dance hall tonight,” Dazai said, his face clicking into the cold, serious expression he always wore when discussing missions. “We have to shadow him for the evening, see if he conducts any business at the dance hall.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed. “That’s all? Just a basic shadowing? Can’t you just send one of your subordinates to take care of it? What about the scrawny one with the jacket? Agukatawa, right? Or is it Aku… Akuguwa?”

“Akutagawa,” Dazai corrected. “And no, I can’t pawn this job off onto one of my subordinates. This mission was a direct order from Mori; he was very explicit that it should be the two of us and no one else.”

Chuuya sighed. “Fine.” He strode across the room and slung his coat over his shoulders. “Let’s go, then.”


It took all Chuuya’s restraint to keep from slapping the smile off Dazai’s face. “What?”

Dazai handed Chuuya the white bag. “Put this on first.”

Chuuya shot Dazai a quick scowl, then opened the bag to find a deep red silk dress. “Oh, hell no!” he cried, wadding up the dress and throwing it at Dazai. “Why don’t you put it on?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dazai scoffed, carefully straightening out the dress and folding it in half so its hem didn’t touch the ground. “It’s not my size.”

I’m being ridiculous?” Chuuya crossed his arms. “I thought this was a stealth mission, Dazai. Why the fuck would I wear something like that if we’re shadowing someone?”

Dazai shrugged. “I’m just following Mori-san’s orders.”

“Oh, come on!” Chuuya rolled his eyes. “If you think I beleive for a second that Mori handed you that dress-”

“Well, I still had to go out and buy the dress,” Dazai admitted. “Mori-san doesn’t know your measurements as well as I do.”

“You know damn well what I mean!” Chuuya snapped. “What, did Mori-san say ‘you and Chuuya have a stealth mission today, so make sure to put him in a dress’?”

Dazai dug his cell phone out of his pocket and tossed it to Chuuya with a smirk. “If you’d like to give Mori-san a call and question his orders, be my guest.”

Chuuya grit his teeth. Dazai was probably bluffing, but even if he was, Mori wouldn’t appreciate receiving a call over something so trivial. “Never mind,” he snarled, thrusting the phone back at Dazai and snatching the dress out of his arms. “I’ll go shave my legs.”


“Chuuya…” Dazai’s voice was soft, barely audible over the sultry strains of tango music that permeated the dance hall. “Smile.”

Chuuya bared his teeth. “Why?” Even when he didn’t understand Dazai’s orders, Chuuya reluctantly followed them; that bandaged bastard was many things, but a poor strategist wasn’t one of them.

“We’re just two young lovers at a dance hall, remember?” Dazai intertwined his fingers with Chuuya’s, giving his hand a slight squeeze of admonishment as he reminded him of the cover they had assumed for their mission. “If you don’t look like you’re having a good time, you’ll end up calling attention to yourself.”

Chuuya flicked the red rose that was tucked behind his ear. “Yeah, I sure wouldn’t want to do anything that would call attention to myself.”

“Chuuya…” Dazai fell silent for a moment, staring at Chuuya with an inscrutable expression. “Is it really that hard for you to pretend to enjoy being around me?”

A snarky comeback was waiting on the tip of Chuuya’s tongue, but he was caught off-guard by the genuine tone of Dazai’s voice. “What do mean, waste of bandages?” he asked slowly. “Since when have you ever cared about whether or not I liked being around you?”

Dazai straightened his tie and avoided meeting Chuuya’s eyes. Rather than his usual dark suit, he was wearing a black vest over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up around his elbows and matching slacks, the tie around his neck the same dark red as Chuuya’s dress. As much as Chuuya hated to admit it, Dazai did look nice in white; it brightened up his face and even made his sinister, dark eyes appear a little less conniving, as if he did occasionally have thoughts that weren’t directly related to making his partner suffer.

Dazai gave his tie one final pull, then grabbed Chuuya’s hand. “Never mind what I just said.” His words poured out in a rush. “Just smile.” Still holding Chuuya’s hand, Dazai led him out of the semi-darkness of the coat room and into the almost blinding brightness of the main hall.

Once Chuuya’s eyes adjusted to the light, he saw men and women in fancy clothing seated at small, ornate wire tables clustered around a raised platform, similar to a stage, closed off by heavy velvet curtains. A cursory glance at some of the women was enough for Chuuya to grudgingly confirm that the dress Dazai had chosen for him fit right in. Of course, he wasn’t going to admit that.

Chuuya flashed a radiant smile at Dazai. “Is this convincing enough? The last thing I’d want to was to do anything to make myself look conspicuous. Like, for example, if I was wearing a bright red dress-” Chuuya shot Dazai a pointed look. “-that would be pretty stupid.”

Dazai rolled his eyes. “Your dress isn’t bright red; that would’ve clashed with your hair. I made sure to get you something in a very tasteful shade of deep currant.”

Chuuya snorted. “Deep currant, my ass. I look like a stoplight.”

“Come on.” Dazai pulled Chuuya to the side for a moment as a waiter with a silver tray dashed by. Once the waiter passed, Dazai stepped forward, practically dragging Chuuya along behind him. “You look fine.”

Chuuya yanked his hand out of Dazai’s grasp, massaging his wrist where Dazai’s bony fingers had held onto him. “After all the trouble I went through to cram myself into this thing? I better look a lot more than fine, pal.”

The dance floor was elevated slightly, connected to the rest of the room by a short staircase consisting of three small, wooden stairs. Dazai placed one hand on the small of Chuuya’s back as they ascended the staircase side-by-side, pushing the curtain aside and holding it up so Chuuya could enter. On the other side of the curtain, the lights were softer, reminiscent of candelight, bathing the dancing couples in a delicate glow. An ensemble played on a small stage off to the side, and a woman with a voice like smoke crooned in another language. The almost subdued quality of the light, the swell of music, and the gentle pressure of Dazai’s hand on his back, made Chuuya feel as if he was walking into a dream. He could have stood there for hours, basking in the subtle glow of the moment, but Dazai had to open his mouth and drag Chuuya back down to reality.

“I got the dress in your size, so there shouldn’t have been much cramming involved,” Dazai murmured, his eyes scanning Chuuya’s body. “But, I guess it does look a little tight on you.” Dazai squeezed Chuuya’s ass. “Especially right here.” Chuuya gave an involuntary yelp, making Dazai laugh. “My, Chuuya, so noisy.” He leaned in close, his lips practically brushing against Chuuya’s ear. “We’re on a stealth mission, remember?”

“Then keep your hands off my ass, bastard!” Chuuya hissed, slapping Dazai’s hands away. “Besides, you’ve told me we’re on a stealth mission about a hundred fucking times, but you haven’t told me anything else, like, oh, I don’t know, the target’s name? Who we’re even supposed to be looking for?”

Daza’s eyes darted to the left, indicating an older gentleman in a tuxedo. “That’s him, the leader of Echo.”

Chuuya’s brow furrowed. “Echo? I’ve never heard of them.”

“Well, they haven’t really made any trouble for the Port Mafia yet,” Dazai murmured, letting his eyes linger on the target for a moment before casually shifting his gaze to a couple dancing nearby. “Echo is a foreign gifted organization that’s been making inroads in a few other cities in Japan. Mori-san suspects Yokohama may be their next target.” Dazai smiled down at Chuuya and straightened the rose in his hair. “That’s where we come in. Mori-san thought the Port Mafia should put its best foot forward, so to speak. If we catch him conducting any, ah, unsavory business, at this fine establishment-”

Chuuya cracked his knuckled, grinning. “Now we’re talking. Maybe this’ll be worth shaving my legs for after all.”

Dazai smirked. “The sacrifices we make for the Port Mafia.”

Chuuya’s eyes widened, darting back and forth as he tried to decide if anyone had overheard. Once he realized that the other patrons of the dance hall were too far away to have heard Dazai over the music, Chuuya turned on his partner with a snarl. “A little louder with that mafia talk next time- there might be some people here who didn’t catch that,” he hissed, poking Dazai’s chest.“You wanna give out our names and addresses while you’re at it? How about we strip naked, staple our wanted posters to our asses, and dance a fucking hula?”

Dazai tucked a lock of Chuuya’s hair behind his ear with an amused smile. “You’re so tense,” he whispered, his words warm and soft in Chuuya’s ear. “It wouldn’t kill you to calm down, you know.”

“Would it kill you to take our mission seriously?” Chuuya retorted. “Our target is within spitting distance, and you-”

Dazai looked mildly impressed. “You can spit that far?”

Chuuya snapped his fingers. “Focus! We need to keep our eyes on the targe-” His eyes slid to where the target had stood only to be met with empty space. “Wait, where did he-”

“By the stage,” Dazai breathed, carressing Chuuya’s cheek as an excuse to turn his face in the proper direction.

“Let’s go.” Chuuya took a step toward the target, but Dazai grabbed his wrist.

“Hold on,” Dazai whispered. “You can’t just go storming off like that. We need to blend in.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed. “What do you have in mind?”

Dazai gave Chuuya a dazzling smile and offered his hand. “Chuuya, may I have this dance?”

Chuuya blushed, mentally berating himself for blushing. “It’s just for the mission, you idiot,” he told himself. “It’s not like he really wants to dance with you.”

“What’s the matter?” asked Dazai, taking notice of Chuuya’s hesitation. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Don’t you know how to tango?”

Chuuya snarled and took Dazai’s hand, placing his other hand on Dazai’s waist. “Of course I know how to tango, you limp anus.”

The ensemble struck up a new piece at a faster tempo as the target began moving to the other side of the dance floor. Dazai gave Chuuya a smile that sent shivers down his spine. “We’ll see about that.” Dazai jerked Chuuya forward, but Chuuya trailed his hand down Dazai’s arm, grasping his fingertips as he spun outward and yanking suddenly, forcing Dazai to spill into Chuuya’s arms.

“What was that?” Chuuya murmured, fluttering his eyelashes. “I’m afraid I can’t hear you over the music, darling.” Chuuya could feel a smile threaten to crack his expertly applied lipstick; Dazai might be the big-shot executive able to call the shots when it came strategy, but if that graceless, linguine-limbed son-of-a-bitch thought he could out-dance Chuuya, he was sorely mistaken. Chuuya was in his element now, and he would savor every moment of it.

Chuuya trailed his fingertips along Dazai’s bandaged forearms so delicately that his partner shuddered before entwining his fingers with Dazai’s one at a time. Grinning, Chuuya placed his free hand on Dazai’s shoulder, gripping perhaps a bit tighter than strictly necessary, and led him forward, moving with fluid, graceful strides as Dazai scrambled to follow along. Dazai’s usual smug composure nowhere to be found. His eyes were wide, almost fearful, as Chuuya twirled, his fingertips barely touching Dazai’s, before lunging forward so their chests were pressed together, arching his neck up so he could savor the look on Dazai’s face.

“Where-” Although he had done little more than stand still and be yanked around, Dazai still sounded out of breath. “Where did you learn this?”

“Can’t I have a few secrets?” Chuuya purred. His hands traced the air near the sides of Dazai’s chest before alighting on his waist, using Dazai for stability as he lifted himself off the ground, stepping down so gently his high heels didn’t even click on the wooden floor. “Besides,” Chuuya added, plucking the rose out of his hair and putting it in Dazai’s mouth, which was hanging slightly open. “I think I like knowing something you don’t.” Chuuya crossed one leg in front of the other slowly, then swept his leg outward, kicking his foot into the air when it reached the end of its arc and seizing Dazai’s hand once more. “Just try not to slow me down too much.”

They danced for hours, always keeping the target within their line of sight, but as the night grew older, Chuuya found himself less and less preoccupied with the target and more and more focused on Dazai, on the placement of his hands, on the increasing elegance of his footwork, on the sharp gleam that came into his eyes when he was contemplated with a skill he had not yet mastered.

“He’s just using me for the mission,” Chuuya told himself as he leaned back into Dazai’s arms after a particularly dizzying twirl. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t use him for some pleasure of my own.”

For a few moments- the time Dazai attempted to spin and only avoided slapping the hat off an old woman’s head because Chuuya pulled him into a dip came to mind- Chuuya had so much fun that he could almost convince himself he and Dazai really were nothing more than a pair of young lovers in a dance hall, enjoying one another’s company without any thoughts of international gifted organizations or questions about who was using who.

Eventually, it got to a point where Chuuya suddenly realized he had neglected to look for the target for several minutes and, when he did look around, the man was nowhere to be found.

“Dazai!” Chuuya whispered, tugging Dazai’s sleeve. “The target, where is he?”

Dazai shrugged. “Who knows?” he said with a lazy smile.

“Who knows?!” Chuuya had to wring his hands to keep from wringing Dazai’s neck. “Damn it, Dazai, this is important! Trailing that man was our entire mission, and we have no idea where he went! He could be up to something right now, and we just let him slip through our fingers! If we can’t find him, our whole mission would be-” Chuuya’s eyes narrowed. “Are you laughing?”

“Laughing?” Dazai tried and failed to suppress a smile. “Of course not.”

“I should hope the fuck not!” Chuuya exclaimed, stomping his foot. Then, remembering that the target could possibly have allies nearby, he lowered his voice again. “There’s nothing funny about failing a mission.”

“No, no, there is nothing funny about failing a mission,” Dazai agreed, lips twitching. He covered his mouth with his hand but couldn’t camouflage a burst of laughter. “But this- this is hysterical!” Dazai laughed so hard tears began streaming down his face and he had to hold onto Chuuya’s shoulder for balance.

“Do I have to remind you that we just lost our target?” Chuuya snapped, shoving Dazai’s hand aside. “Whatever you’re thinking about can’t be funny enough to make up for the fact that we’re in danger of failing our mission!”

“Oh, Chuuya.” Chuuya couldn’t recall ever seeing Dazai look so amused. “There was never any mission.”

Chuuya was sure he had to have heard wrong. “Never any- what do you- you can’t be seriou-”

Dazai took Chuuya’s hand and gently raised it to his lips, planting a kiss on his knuckles. “I had a wonderful time tonight, Chuuya,” he whispered, a soft smile on his face and fragments of tears lingering in his eyes. “I hope we can do this again sometime.” With that, Dazai turned and exited through the curtain.

Chuuya could hear Dazai’s footsteps as he descended the stairs. “Bu-but I-” When the footsteps faded, Chuuya found his voice. “Hold the fuck on!” he cried, hiking up his dress so he could run faster. “What in the fresh hell do you mean, ‘there was never any mission’!? I shaved my fucking legs for this, you asshole!”


• Reblog and tag yourself.
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• thelegend27
• Minor thing happens and YouTuber exaggerates

“Made With Love”

Summary: Chuuya tries his best to keep Akutagawa warm while his jacket is being washed

Notes: THE FLUFFY (literally lmao) CHUUAKU FIC YOU’VE ALL BEEN dreading WATING FOR, this one is pretty cute and i promise no one dies. I’m uploading it on Chuuya’s birthday bc in it chuuya receives the greatest gift of all- confirmation that he does make Akutagawa happy, in spite of the occasional pang of self-doubt and of course, love

dedicated to everyone except that bitchfuck rose (@ch-ch-ch-chuuya BITCH I SAID I’D DO IT, DIDNT I???)


“For fuck’s sake, Ryuu, don’t you ever wash this thing?!” Chuuya tugged at the grimy sleeve of Akutagawa’s black coat, then crossed his arms in disproval. “You wear it to all of your missions- it’s gotta be crawling with germs, not to mention you probably cough all over it-”

Akutagawa coughed into his hand, fixing Chuuya with a pointed stare.

Chuuya groaned, taking Akutagawa’s hand in his. “Dammit, Ryuu, that’s even worse!” His eyes darted over Akutagawa’s pale, bony hand, searching for blood. Finding none, Chuuya allowed himself a quick sigh of relief before continuing to lecture Akutagawa. “Wearing that dirty thing all the time is just tempting fate, babe, and you know you’re sick enough as it is.” Chuuya stroked Akutagawa’s hand. “I just don’t want you making things worse for yourself, ‘specially not when all you have to do is wash your fucking jacket!”

Akutagawa sighed “Wash it, then.” He shrugged off his jacket, reluctance evident in the sluggishness in his movements and slight annoyance in his eyes. The moment he thrust the jacket at Chuuya, Akutagawa turned on heel and fled the room.

Chuuya tilted his head to the side, puzzled. “Well, thanks, baby!” he called to Akutagawa’s retreating figure. “I’ll get this nice and clean for you!” Chuuya could hear Akutagawa’s coughing from the next room over, unsure if the coughing had interrupted his response or came in lieu of one. Akutagawa was probably just coughing. He tended to do that.

Sighing, Chuuya wadded up the coat and made his way to the laundry room, casting suspicious glances at the dark fabric all the while in case it decided to start moving; Chuuya had seen what that dreadful vore-coat could do, and he wasn’t taking any chances. Then again, Chuuya reflected as he entered the laundry room, the idea of having particular acts, so to speak, carried out via the infinitely flexible fabric of Akutagawa’s coat had a certain appeal…

Just as Chuuya was about to dive into lewd fantasies, he heard Akutagawa call to him from the next room. “Nakahara-san, you better not be thinking about having sex with rashomon. I know every stain and patch of dirt on that coat, and if I see any suspicious-looking fluids-”

“Ever heard of detergent, babe?” Chuuya shot back, laughing as he dumped the coat into the washing machine. He turned around to find that Akutagawa had silently materialized in the doorway and was glowering down on him. Smiling, Chuuya hopped onto his tiptoes to give Akutagawa a kiss on the cheek. “Feeling better, huh?”

Akutagawa’s eyes narrowed. “I feel fine. I’ve been fine all day. How can I feel better when I’ve been fine all along?”

Chuuya’s heart winced at the bitterness in every ‘fine’ from Akutagawa’s lips, but he kept his expression neutral. “I just thought you were upset about something since you ran off after giving me the coat earlier,” he said, reaching out and placing one hand on Akutagawa’s forearm. “You sure you’re okay?”

Akutagawa’s eyes wavered for a minute, and he seemed to be on the verge of telling Chuuya the truth before a coughing fit struck. Chuuya wrapped his arms around Akutagawa to keep him from falling- the stronger coughing fits could make him lose balance, and Akutagawa tended to use his hands to cover his face instead of steady himself- and began gently rubbing his back, tracing soft circles with his hands.

“You’ll get through this, baby,” Chuuya whispered as Akutagawa trembled beneath him. “Just breathe. Breathe. I’ll breathe with you, okay? Like this-” Chuuya took several deep breaths, staring into Akutagawa’s watering eyes. After what seemed like years but was only a few seconds, Akutagawa’s breathing steadied to match Chuuya’s. Chuuya wrapped his arms around Akutagawa, desperate to hold him close but terrified of stifling his breathing by holding on too tight, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Good job, babe,” he breathed. “I knew you were strong enough to get through it.”

Akutagawa drew in a deep, shaking breath as he embraced Chuuya. “I don’t feel strong.” He glanced at the washing machine, gray eyes unfathomable, and shivered. “I feel cold.”

Chuuya had not missed Akutagawa’s eyes darting toward the washing machine; he had a feeling Akutagawa was feeling a lot more than cold and it had something to do with that jacket, but he didn’t want to push Akutagawa so soon after his coughing fit. Instead, he merely held Akutagawa a little tighter and said, “Yeah? Well, don’t worry about it, babe. I’ll find a way to warm you up.”

Akutagawa gave a single sharp bark of laughter, then coughed. “If you’re talking about sex, I swear I’ll-”

Chuuya laughed, then crossed his arms and scowled, trying to look offended. “You make it seem like all I do is run around spouting innuendos.”

Akutagawa was unmoved by Chuuya’s charade. “Just last Tuesday, you stuck your dick in a pizza box and asked if I ordered a ‘large sausage’.”

“Okay, well I was drunk, then” Chuuya admitted, guiltily tugging one of the longer locks of his hair. “But I’ll have you know I do think about other things than sex some of the time. When I’m not horny, any- wait, come back!”

Once Chuuya managed to convince Akutagawa that his intentions were pure, he swept Akutagawa into his arms and carried him to the couch, setting him down with a gentle kiss on the cheek and a stern admonishment not to move before heading for the bedroom. Moments later, he returned with the comforter and several pillows from the bed as well as a fluffy, light pink blanket he had knitted a few weeks ago. Chuuya covered Akutagawa with the knitted blanket first, then the comforter.

“Warm enough?” Chuuya asked, fluffing a pillow before sliding it in the gap between the arm of the couch and Akutagawa’s neck. “Or do you need something else? More blankets, another pillow, some tea, maybe? That always seems to help when you’ve been coughing a lot.”

“Don’t bother.” Akutagawa coughed, then closed his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Hm. Well, if you say so, I guess.” Chuuya slipped beneath the layers of blankets to cuddle up next to Akutagawa. “But if you change your mind, I’ll be right here, okay?”

Akutagawa rolled onto his side, away from Chuuya. “Okay.” He coughed again. “If you want to cuddle with me, I won’t stop you. I’m tired.”

Chuuya laughed, gently wrapping his arms around Akutagawa. “If you insist.”

Within minutes, Akutagawa fell asleep, his raspy snores continuing without pause as Chuuya snuck out to put the coat in the dryer.


“Again?” Akutagawa complained, scowling as Chuuya dumped his coat into the washing machine. “What, now I’m supposed to do this every week?”

“Um, yeah?” Chuuya shook his head. “Honestly, Ryuu, you’re lucky I don’t make you wash that shit every day considering how fast you manage to get it dirty.”

Akutagawa huffed, crossing his arms. “At this rate, I might as well get a second jacket for all the times you insist on washing my greatest weapon.”

Chuuya’s eyes lit up. “You want another jacket?”

Akutagawa recognized that gleam in Chuuya’s eyes. “Nakahara-san, no.”

“Nakahara-san, yes!”

“Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”

Chuuya grinned. “On three.”

Akutagawa rolled his eyes. “One.”

Chuuya laughed. “Two.”

“Shopping trip.”

“Shopping trip, bitch!” Chuuya grabbed Akutagawa’s wrist and started racing for the door. “Just you wait, I’m gonna get you the best damn jacket in Yokohama! You’ll forget all about that heap of rags in the washing machine. Glomping coat, who? Vampire jacket, what?”

“Rashomon does not ‘glomp’!” Akutagawa snapped, flushing. “And it doesn’t make me look like a vampire, shut up.”

“Aw, c’mon, babe.” Chuuya gave Akutagawa a kiss. “Vampires are sexy.” He pulled back, smiling. “And you’ll look even sexier once I get you a new jacket, or two, or five. Now, let’s go! This could take a few hours.”  

Akutagawa groaned as Chuuya dragged him out of the house. “Hours?


Several hours and thousands of dollars later, Chuuya had found several pairs of designer heels, the most delightful crushed velvet dress, some simply stunning silk lingerie, and not a single jacket that hadn’t been met with complete indifference from Akutagawa. Though Chuuya was never one to cut a shopping trip short, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for dragging Akutagawa along when no coat seemed to please him.

“You sure you don’t like any of these?” Chuuya asked, gesturing at the massive selection of coats in one of many upscale clothing stores they had visited throughout the day.

Akutagawa shrugged. “I have very particular tastes.”

“Isn’t that from ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’?” Chuuya asked.

Akutagawa furrowed his brow. “You’ve read ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’?”

Chuuya blushed. “Uh, no?” He grabbed a random jacket off the rack and presented it to Akutagawa. “This do anything for you?”

“Nakahara-san,” Akutagawa sighed, rubbing his temples. “ I am not wearing a jacket that has ‘pizza and pussy’ written on the back in rhinestones.”

“No?” Chuuya turned the jacket around, whistling appreciatively as he examined the back. “If you’re not getting it, I sure the fuck am.” Chuuya slid the jacket on, turning from side to side so Akutagawa could study him from all angles. “How do I look?”

Akutagawa’s expression softened. “Beautiful.”

Chuuya laughed, giving Akutagawa a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, babe. Don’t worry, we’ll find something beautiful for you, too.” Chuuya found a black jacket similar to Akutagawa’s usual coat on the rack took it off its hanger. “What about this one? Looks kind of like yours, huh?”

Akutagawa coughed. “I guess.”

Frustrated, Chuuya dropped the jacket to the ground, not even bothering to put it back on the hanger. “Look, if you don’t want me to buy you a new jacket, you can just say so,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’ve been saying so for the past four hours! Akutagawa snapped. “I didn’t want to come here in the first place.”

“Look, let’s not fight, okay?” Chuuya reached out and took Akutagawa’s hands. “You wanna go home now?”

Akutagawa nodded, then leaned down so his forehead was pressed against Chuuya’s. “Sorry.”

Chuuya wrapped his arms around Akutagawa. “Sorry for what, babe?”

“For getting upset with you. I know you’re trying to help.” Akutagawa pulled away and started heading for the door. “Let’s go.”

Chuuya trailed after Akutagawa, casting a longing glance at the bedazzled jacket lying on the ground. “I’ll come back for you,” he mouthed.

Once they were in the car, Chuuya turned to Akutagawa. “Why won’t you let me get you a new jacket, babe?” Chuuya asked. “I know the one you have is special to you, but-”

“Dazai-san gave me that jacket,” Akutagawa interjected. He fell silent for a moment, staring out the window instead of meeting Chuuya’s eyes. “I’m stronger when I wear it.”

Chuuya had suspected as much, but hearing it from Akutagawa’s mouth still felt like a blow to the heart. The jacket was special because it had been Dazai’s; nothing Chuuya could give him would ever compare. That coat represented power to Akutagawa, acknowledgement of his stregnth and worth. Chuuya could imagine Dazai shrugging off that coat and draping it over Akutagawa’s shoulders.

The thought of Dazai made Chuuya feel sick with anger. That bastard knew exactly what effect he had on people and exactly how to use it. Chuuya clenched his hands into fists. How had Dazai felt, giving Akutagawa his jacket? Somehow, Chuuya had the sneaking suspicion Dazai knew he wasn’t giving the boy a gift; he was signing their contract, sealing their fate together in the embrace of black fabric.

Dazai had been there first, had conquered Akutagawa’s heart and soul so completely, so thoroughly no one else could ever be more than a passing interest. Chuuya bit his lip to keep it from trembling. He would never mean as much to Akutagawa as Dazai did. There was nothing he could do to make up for that first gift and all that followed, all the wounds now scarred into Akutagawa’s flesh that Chuuya merely patched up knowing full-well who had inflicted them. Dazai was forever; Chuuya could never compete.

“No,” Chuuya told himself, clenching the steering wheel tight enough to make his knuckles blanch. “Dazai was there first, but you’re here now.” Chuuya glanced away from the road, letting his eyes rest on Akutagawa’s beautiful, familiar face. Akutagawa caught Chuuya’s gaze and blushed, almost smiling. “Ryuu loves you, and you know it.” Chuuya let out a long exhale and wondered how many years it would take before he finally learned to stop comparing himself to Dazai.

“I can’t just walk into a store and expect to buy anything as valuable as Dazai’s old jacket,” Chuuya thought with rising determination. “But if I can’t give Ryuu something that means more to him than that ratty old vore-coat, then my name isn’t Nakahara Chuuya!”


Chuuya had been looking forward to the weekend since Wednesday, the day he completed his newest project. He had been hoping something would happen to make Akutagawa’s coat even dirtier than usual so he could justify doing laundry earlier in the week, but no suitable excuses could be found. Chuuya was in agony. He was the sort of person who gave others their birthday presents as soon as he bought them, unable to stand waiting until the actual day. Several times, he had gotten into trouble with Kouyou for giving Kyouka too many hints about her presents, ruining the surprise.

When Saturday finally arrived, doing the laundry was the only thing on Chuuya’s mind, so he was rather surprised to wake up to find Akutagawa presenting him with a plate of mostly-burnt French toast, one of his favorite breakfast dishes.  

“Happy birthday, Nakahara-san.”

Chuuya was confused for a moment before realizing that it must have been the 29th after all; he had been so caught up in his plan that he had forgotten his own birthday. Laughing, Chuuya leaned forward and gave Akutagawa a kiss. “Thanks, Ryuu.” He looked down at the plate of French toast and selected a piece that wasn’t quite as charred as the rest. “Really good,” he said over a mouthful of French toast. “You made this yourself?”

Akutagawa rolled his eyes. “No, I went to a bakery and asked for burned French toast.” Encouraged by Chuuya’s laughter, Akutagawa smiled and added, “You have to specify that you’d like it well-done, otherwise they’ll cook it properly.”

Chuuya had to kiss Akutagawa again. “Well, it tastes great. I’m proud of you, babe. I bet this tastes even better than Gordon Ramsay’s ass.”

Akutagawa sighed. “It’s your birthday, so I will try not to comment on that.”

“Well, you know what I wanna comment on?” Chuuya set the plate of French toast on the nightstand and leapt out of bed. “Your coat getting washed! It’s laundry day, bitch!”

“You can’t do laundry on your birthday!” The very suggestion seemed to wound Akutagawa. “I have to do everything and spoil you.” Akutagawa coughed, then blushed. “That is what you do for me on my birthday.”

Chuuya nearly started tearing up. “Babe, you’re too sweet.” He gave Akutagawa another kiss. “But, please, let me wash your jacket. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

Akutagawa gave Chuuya a strange look, but he got his jacket out of the closet and handed it to Chuuya. “If it makes you happy.”

Chuuya beamed. “It does, Ryuu. It really does.” He ran to the laundry room and threw the jacket into the washing machine, pouring an unmeasured amount of detergent in before slamming the door shut and racing back to the bedroom, diving under the bed to retrieve the shoebox where his master plan lay waiting. “Surprise!”

Akutagawa furrowed his brow. “The leopard print stilettos you bought when you took me shopping last week?”

Chuuya glanced down at the shoebox. “Fuck, wrong box. Sorry, babe.” Chuuya ducked under the bed again, making sure to look in the box before presenting it to Akutagawa. “Ta-da, for reals this time! Open it up!”

Akutagawa took the box, mystified. “A present?” His gray eyes darted up to Chuuya’s face, then down to the box again. “But it’s your birthday, Nakahara-san. Why would you get something for me?”

“Just open it!” Chuuya cried. “I worked really hard on this and I really, really want you to have it! I need to know if you like it or not!”

Akutagawa’s eyes widened and he nodded once, solemnly, impressed by Chuuya’s passion. As he lifted his gift out of the box, Akutagawa couldn’t help but let out a little gasp. “A sweater? Nakahara-san, you made this?”

“No, I went to a boutique and asked for a sweater with loose ends sticking out all over the place,” Chuuya teased. “That style’s in vogue now.” He flicked at a loose end poking out of one of the sleeve cuffs. “I can clean it up later, if you want. It was kind of a rush job since I wanted to get this done in time for the weekend, so you can wear it while your coat’s getting washed.”

“While my coat’s getting washed,” Akutagawa echoed, staring down at the sweater.

Chuuya took a deep breath, then looked up into Akutagawa’s eyes, heart pounding. “I know that coat means a lot to you, and I’m not trying to make you replace it, but I-”

Akutagawa cut Chuuya off with a sudden hug that left him breathless. “Shut up, Nakahara-san. It’s perfect.” He pulled away long enough to slip the sweater over his head, then threw his arms around Chuuya again. “Perfect.”

Chuuya held Akutagawa, running one hand along the soft, fluffy blue yarn of his sweater, tears of joy gathering in his eyes. “I’m glad you like it, baby. It’s made with love.”

“Atsushi’s Favorite Gift”

Summary: Atsushi enjoys a relaxing picnic with Chuuya and Akutagawa to celebrate his birthday

Notes: Happy birthday atsushi!!!!!!! so this fic was kind of rushed (i didnt even realize may 5 was his birthday until like, noon of may 4 lmao) but its still very sweet and fluffy and no one dies! also this is based on my chuuakuatsu headcanons I posted about a while ago, but basically all you need to know is that atsushi is trans and he’s pregnant with chuuya’s baby and this is NOT some kind of mpreg/genderbend/fetish thing, and my comrades @akuchuus and @anemiaman have already promised to fight anyone who misconstrues it as such so yeah! I hope you all enjoy this!


It was Chuuya’s idea to have a picnic.

Even as they were sitting outside on a blanket laid on the soft grass behind their house, new leaves and budding flowers swaying in the gentle breeze, Atsushi couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else up Chuuya’s sleeves. After all, this was the same Chuuya Nakahara who insisted on throwing elaborate parties for every occasion, celebrating holidays and the time Akutagawa “saved” his life by crushing a spider with equal enthusiasm. Atsushi had told Chuuya he didn’t want anything special for this birthday, but a part of him was still surprised Chuuya had listened.

Chuuya had gone inside to grab the cake; Akutagawa claimed the sun was too bright and was looking for an umbrella, leaving Atsushi alone in the garden. A squirrel darted by, casting curious glances at the blanket. Atsushi gathered some crumbs off the blanket and held them toward the squirrel with a soft, inviting meow, but the squirrel just chittered and scampered up a tree. Daffodils bobbed their bright yellow heads in the wind, and Atsushi smiled, reaching toward the brilliant petals with one hand as he remebered how much fun it had been planting this garden with Chuuya and Akutagawa almost two years ago.

A few months after Chuuya had been dating Atsushi and Akutagawa, he had got it into his mind to buy a “proper home” as he called it, away from the heat of the city and stench of the port, somewhere they could relax. Another reason, one Chuuya never said aloud but Atsushi understood implicitly, was that Akutagawa’s coughing fits had been getting worse and he was convinced fresh air would be easier on his fragile lungs. Rare as it was for everybody to be able to get their time off to coincide, the house really only saw use on the weekends, though Akutagawa did seem to cough less when they were there.

From the moment he saw the house, Chuuya had been determined to make it perfect from top to bottom, including the large, untamed backyard. For the first few weeks, Chuuya was constantly on the phone, asking Kouyou whether or not koi ponds were still in style, consulting Kajii about which brand of fertilizer was scientifically the best, and trying not to snicker as he ordered sacks full of seed, but after some time had passed, Chuuya calmed down and began planting flowers himself, asking Akutagawa and Atsushi for help.

Akutagawa hated plants. No one knew why. Still, Akutagawa had tried to overcome his hatred for all of five minutes before hissing at a leaf that brushed against his hand and storming off, muttering to himself about the evils of vegetation. Although Atsushi would have loved having Akutagawa around, he couldn’t help but be a little happy to have Chuuya all to himself for a while. Akutagawa and Chuuya had known eachother for years before Atsushi had come into their lives; Atsushi was never jealous of them, but he did feel left out sometimes, and it meant the world to him anytime Chuuya or Akutagawa spent time with him in particular.

Atsushi loved every minute he and Chuuya spent together in the garden, even when he get a splinter stuck in his hand from the handle of a shovel, or when Chuuya tripped over a rake and spent a solid thirty minutes shrieking obscenities at it, or the countless times they had to stop entirely because Chuuya was laughing hysterically at the prospect of using a hoe.

Atsushi tried to be the voice of reason. “Come on, Chuuya-san, why don’t you just pick that up-”

Chuuya failed to choke back a laugh. “Pick what up, baby? I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Atsushi blushed and pointed at the hoe. “That.”

Chuuya raised an eyebrow. “You want me to grab that hoe?” A grin spread across Chuuya’s face. “Y’know, I totally would, but, you see, the handle-” Chuuya’s words dissolved into laughter; he had to take a moment to compose himself. “-the handle’s all covered in dirt.” Chuuya’s eyes sparkled as he smirked at Atsushi. “Do you really want me to get my hands on that dirty hoe?”

Atsushi was taken out of the memory when he heard the door open.

Akutagawa glared at the sun as he sat beside Atsushi, unfolding his umbrella and holding it over their heads.

Atsushi wrapped an arm around Akutagawa, leaning toward him so their cheeks were pressed together. “Is it dark enough for you now, Ryuu?”

“It’s never dark enough.”

Atsushi laughed, then moved so he and Akutagawa were facing eachother. “Why don’t you just sit inside? You can turn the lights off and hide under the blankets.”

“Well…” Akutagawa coughed, staring at the ground for a moment before looking back at Atsushi’s smiling face. “You’re out here.”

“Ryuu!” Atsushi hugged Akutagawa, pulling away the instant he felt his stomach press against Akutagawa’s. “Oh, sorry,” he said, embarrased

Akutagawa blushed. “Don’t apologize.” His eyes gravitated toward Atsushi’s round stomach, already starting to push against the new shirt Chuuya had bought for him a few weeks ago. “It’s-” Akutagawa coughed, making his face even redder. “It’s strange to think about, you having a baby- or, two babies,” he added, correcting himself. “Twins.”

“Do you wanna see if you can feel them?” Atsushi asked. “I felt a kick earlier today.”

Akutagawa nodded, eyes widening, and placed one trembling hand on Atsushi’s stomach.

Atsushi put his hand on top of Akutagawa’s and smiled.

After a few seconds, Akutagawa pulled his hand away, disappointed. “I didn’t feel anything.”

“Well, obviously they don’t kick all the time.” Atsushi couldn’t help but laugh at Akutagawa’s sour face, but he reached out and caressed Akutagawa’s cheek. “Next time I feel something, I’ll make sure to let you know, okay?”

“I got something both of you can feel!” Chuuya proclaimed, striding through the door with the cake, his mischievous eyes gleaming brighter than the lit candles.

Akutagawa scowled. “Nakahara-san, if you say ‘deez nuts’, I swear I’ll-”

“Deez nuts!”

Akutagawa got up to leave, but Atsushi touched his wrist. “Please, don’t go,” he said. “I don’t want to eat the cake without you.”

“I-I guess I can stay, if that’s the case,” Akutagawa said, blushing again as he sat down.

Chuuya sat across from Atsushi and Akutagawa and placed the cake in front of Atsushi. “Alright, now let’s hurry up and sing before the wind blows out the candles.”

After an hour had passed and several pieces of cake had been eaten, the sun began to set, and the air grew colder. Atsushi shivered as a cool gust of wind danced through his hair.

“Are you cold?” Chuuya asked. “We can go back inside, if you want.”

Atsushi smiled. “I’m okay, Chuuya-san.” He gazed at the sunset, then up at the faint stars blossoming above and sighed, content. “It’s a beautiful evening.”

Akutagawa slipped out of the oversized sweater he was wearing over his shirt and handed it to Atsushi. “Put this on. You’ll get sick if you don’t stay warm.”

Atsushi laughed. “Ryuu, I’m fine.” He ran his hands over the fluffy sweater; Chuuya had made it himself, and the odd little bits of yarn sticking out in places proved it. “Besides, you get sick more than I do.”

“Please, put it on.” Akutagawa’s gray eyes gleamed with anxiety. “I want you to be safe.” He looked down at Atsushi’s stomach. “And the babies.”

“Oh, okay.” Atsushi hugged Akutagawa, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek before pulling away. “You worry too much,” he said, wriggling into Akutagawa’s sweater. Although the sweater hung off Akutagawa’s bony frame, it barely covered half of Atsushi’s stomach. He tugged at the bottom of the sweater, in a vain attempt to cover himself better, then gave up, sighing. “I hope I don’t stretch this out too much…”

Chuuya leaned over and rested his head on Atsushi’s stomach. “If you do, I’ll just knit him another one. Don’t worry about it.” Atsushi felt a flutter in his tummy, and apparently Chuuya felt it as well, if his joyful shriek was any indication. “Atsushi, the babies!”

Atsushi laughed and nodded, smiling wide enough to make his cheeks ache. “I know, I feel it, too, Chuuya-san.”

Akutagawa’s eyes widened. “The babies kicked?” He shoved Chuuya aside and pressed the side of his head against Atsushi’s stomach. After a few moments, he pulled away, scowling. “I still didn’t feel anything!”

“Yeah, I think they stopped now.” Atsushi held back a laugh. “Sorry, Ryuu.”

“What are you apologizing to Ryuu for?” Chuuya complained, crossing his arms. “I’m the one who got pushed onto the fuckin’ ground.”

Atsushi leaned forward and gave Chuuya a kiss. “Sorry, Chuuya-san.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Akutagawa huffed, clearly not over his disappointment. He coughed into his hand. “At least you got to feel the babies.”

Atsushi hugged Akutagawa. “Maybe you can’t feel the babies, but you can feel this, right?”

Akutagawa leaned into Atsushi’s embrace, closing his eyes. “Yes.”

Chuuya wrapped his arms around both of them. “And everyone can feel deez-”

“I fucking swear, Nakahara-san, if you-”

“Deez hugs!” Chuuya sounded insulted. “I was gonna say hugs.”

After sitting outside for a few more hours, Atsushi was starting to get a little sleepy. He yawned, and before he could so much as cover his mouth, Chuuya was holding him.

“You tired, baby?” Chuuya asked, his voice low and gentle in Atsushi’s ear.

Atsushi blushed. “You don’t have to carry me, Chuuya-san. I know I’m kind of heavy, and I-”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Chuuya gave Atsushi a kiss on the nose. “Nothing’s too heavy for me.”

“Okay, then.” Atsushi nestled closer to Chuuya and wrapped his arms around him. “But promise-” Atsushi yawned again. “-promise you’ll let me carry you around sometime, okay?”

Chuuya laughed. “Sure thing, babe. Once the babies arrive and we’re all worked to the bone, you can carry me around as much as you want.”

“I could help.” Akutagawa stood off to the side with his arms wrapped around himself, scowling at the ground. “If I’m needed.”

“Of course you’ll help, dumbass,” said Chuuya, matter-of-fact. “Don’t think you’re exempt from diaper duty just because the babies aren’t made with your sex fluid.”

“Chuuya-san!” Atsushi cried, blushing ear to ear. “There has to be another way to phrase that!”

“Bodily secretions? Baby gravy? Sexy-time goo-goo juice?”

Atsushi pretended to struggle against Chuuya’s grasp, giggling. “Put me down! I don’t know where your filthy hands have been!”

Akutagawa reached for Atsushi. “Yes, let me hold him. Your hands must be slippery from all those fluids, Nakahara-san.”

Chuuya stepped toward Akutagawa and allowed him to reach out so Atsushi was cradled in both of their arms. “An extra pair of hands never hurt,” Chuuya said with a wink. “C’mon, now, let’s get him off to bed. Not that I’m tired, of course,” he added, puffing his chest. “But you need your rest, sweetie,” he said, giving Atsushi a quick kiss. “It’s hard work carrying those babies around all day, isn’t it?”

Chuuya fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow; Atsushi and Akutagawa stayed awake for a while longer.

Atsushi was just starting to drift off when he felt the babies kicking. Without saying a word, he took Akutagawa’s hand and placed it on his round tummy.

Akutagawa gasped. “That’s- that’s them? The babies?”

Atsushi laughed, then yawned. “That’s them. They’re saying hello to you, Ryuu-chan.”

Tears sparkled in Akutagawa’s eyes. “Hello.” He rested his head on top of Atsushi’s tummy but kept his eyes trained on Atsushi’s face. “Do you think-” Akutagawa was quiet for a moment, then coughed. “Atsushi… will they love me?”

Atsushi stroked Akutagawa’s hair. “Of course,” he whispered. “They’ll love you every bit as much as Chuuya-san and I do.”

Akutagawa inhaled a deep, shuddering breath and fell silent. Minutes later, he fell asleep, his dull, raspy snores as sweet and familiar as a lullaby.

Atsushi glanced at Chuuya’s sleeping face, then Akutagawa’s, then down at his own round tummy and smiled. Chuuya and Akutagawa had given him many gifts- pancakes shaped like cat faces with syrupy smiles at breakfast, bouquets of flowers, tiger plushes, warm bowls of chazuke, and a lovely picnic to top it all off- but no gift could ever make Atsushi happier than his wonderful family.