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nachtgraves · 4 years

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Soukoku Fluff Week - Day 1

Managed to get this out on time!

Title: the sun in his sheets // AO3 Word Count: 904 Warning/Tags: G. Alternate Universe, domestic fluff, established relationship, soft morning hours Prompt: sunrise / “let’s stop fooling around”

Through the drawn curtains, the first of the day’s light filters in muted, just enough to cast the room in a soft glow to see more than just shadows. It’s far too early to be awake but Dazai’s never been one to sleep for long or deeply. Unlike the man sharing his bed and snoring softly into a pillow.

Dazai slips out of bed quietly, carefully maneuvering himself around sprawled limbs. Chuuya has terrible sleeping habits. Usually, he ends up with his arms and legs taking over as much of the bed as his tiny body can manage, but there are times when he latches himself onto pillows or gathers up the blankets and looks like he’s trying to strange them in a choke-hold with his entire body. And sometimes he’ll attach himself like a limpet to Dazai. He’ll roll over at some point in the night, fingers seeking until they find skin or clothes or in a few cases hair, before his body will follow and Dazai will have a redhead getting himself comfortable, Dazai nothing more than part of the bed.

This morning, Chuuya’s laid claim to one of the many extra pillows that have accumulated since he started staying the night by hugging it with one arm as if it were trying to get away and drooling on it for good measure. Dazai only has to carefully move Chuuya’s other arm from where the redhead’s slung it over Dazai’s chest and free his leg that Chuuya’s hooked one of his around. He manages to get to his feet with Chuuya only making mild noises of disagreement but remaining asleep.

Padding quietly out of the room, he goes into the kitchen. He could just lay in bed until Chuuya wakes up, but he doesn’t want to risk being what wakes the redhead up. If he stayed in bed just watching Chuuya, he wouldn’t be able to control himself from tracing Chuuya’s features softened in sleep and gentle fingers will quickly turn into soft kisses. Dazai knows himself and it’s not that his self-control is wanting, he’s just weak in all the ways that matter when faced with Chuuya.

Dazai considers the contents of the fridge and pantry, determining that food will have to come from outside, whether they get delivery or go out themselves. Dazai’s leaning towards staying in, Chuuya in his wine red robe, complaining that he’s cold but refusing to put on more clothes so Dazai will hold him on the couch, sharing the throw Chuuya bought and leaves at Dazai’s.

Dazai considers getting dressed and going out to buy at least enough to fix up breakfast. Or just buy breakfast. All he can do for the moment is make some coffee, at least. Once the coffee machines gets going, Dazai returns to the bedroom.

In his absence, Chuuya’s migrated into the warm space Dazai’s vacated, the blankets and Dazai’s pillow in his arms held to his chest, body curled up around his gathered bedding. In the dark blue sheets, Chuuya’s skin and hair stand in stark contrast.

It’s easy to compare Chuuya to a flame, to a raging fire, with his personality and, of course, his hair. His very presence embodies the varying natures of fire. Volatile, destructive, passionate, warm, beautiful.

When Dazai looks at Chuuya, he sees the sun.

This is a particularly strong image in the quiet hours of the morning when the sky is just starting to blend from dark navy to soft pink blooming into light blue, the sun white-gold between buildings and bouncing off the city’s glass and steel. Chuuya’s hair is bright against the sheets, loose and disheveled from sleep, fanned out in curled rays.

Dazai allows himself to sit on the edge of the bed, stalling in getting dressed to go out and forage for breakfast, and potentially lunch, and he should probably consider dinner. The mattress dips and he holds his breath as Chuuya shifts. But when the redhead doesn’t do more than curl up further with the blankets and pillow, inches closer to where Dazai’s seated, Dazai huffs a quiet laugh and reaches over and loosely winds a fiery lock around his finger. The thought of leaving the sleeping man, even if it’s only for the few minutes it would take to run to the nearest convenience store to buy eggs and bread, has him caving, lingering in the the quiet moment and brushing Chuuya’s hair from his eyes.

The sun’s steady incline through the sky lightens the room. A band of stark light slips through a crack in the curtains. It’s almost level with Chuuya’s face. It’s enough to force Dazai to get back to his feet and round the bed to close the curtains fully. The rings slide against the wooden curtain rail but catch, rattling as Dazai attempts to close the gap. He grimaces once he does manage to do so.

When he turns around, it’s to blue eyes squinting up at him. Chuuya frowns, brows furrowing as he blinks against the remnants of sleep, noise crinkling. His voice is rough with sleep as he asks, “Where’re you going?” His mouth purses, the corners down-turned, sulking.

And what could Dazai do in the face of a pouting Chuuya? He smiles and crawls back onto the bed, hovering over the redhead. He dips his head to Chuuya’s pouting mouth. “Absolutely no where.” They can figure out food later.

#bsd #skk #soukoku #soukoku fluff week 2020 #skk fluff week 2020 #chuudazai #osamu dazai #Nakahara Chuuya #bungou stray dogs #tumblr fic #my writing

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sinkingwmyships · 4 years

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Soukoku, anyone? :3

Prompt list | Wattpad | AO3

* * *

Prompt: “Is this the end? After everything we've been through?”

Character(s): Dazai Osamu; Nakahara Chuuya

Pairing(s): Soukoku

Word count: 305

* * *

"Is this the end? After everything we've been through?"

Dazai heeds the footsteps before he does the voice. Quick, light and abrupt, they never allow him time to think or to hesitate. Or maybe it's Dazai himself.

"What do you mean?” He doesn't turn, instead choosing to speak into the darkness. Dazai could almost hear the other man wince at the nonchalance in his voice. That one, he wears his heart on his sleeve.

“You know what I mean.” Chuuya's reply is quiet. Dazai can't help — even as he hears the frustration, feels the yearning in the other man's voice — but taunt:

“What, no insult? No "waste-of-bandages"? Not even a "shitty Dazai"?”

He doesn't flinch when the other man grips his shoulder and spins him around, hard. Chuuya's eyes are burning as they glare into his own, in search of something, anything, to hold onto in those bottomless depths. Dazai doesn't let him find anything.

“Why?” The redhead chokes out at last. Looking at his expression, so uncharacteristically conflicted and weak, Dazai suddenly feels the urge to laugh. Is that all you can muster? You'd said it yourself: "After everything we've been through." And yet, this is all you will say to me?

Chuuya's skin is hot against his lips as Dazai presses a kiss to his cheek, just below the eye. The redhead's scent floods his nose: shampoo, detergent, bed — and for a second Dazai wants to stop, to pull Chuuya close and to tell him what he knows he longs to hear. But he does not, and all too soon they are apart again, the one staring and the other turning to leave. As the night wind chills him to the bone, Dazai thought for a second he would laugh again.

Then this is all I will say to you.

#if it wasn't clear enough #this is when dazai left the port mafia #soukoku #dachuu #chuudazai #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #bsd #bungou stray dogs #port mafia #port mafia dazai #bsd fanfic #bsd oneshot #writer on tumblr #tumblr writer #writeblr #sinkingwmyfics #tumblr prompts #writing prompts

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futilescript · 6 years

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I'm sorry

Some soukoku angst (mixed in with minimal fluff) for @daughterofsinsloth Thank you for requesting! I'm not very good at fluff, I apologize.

Warning: Angst and heavy emotions

Pairing: Dazai & Chuuya (Soukoku)

Summary: Chuuya struggles to come to terms with Dazai's actions while battling

Anger washes over Chuuya's small frame in waves, feeling as though the heat from the flames licking fiercely at his body would burn him up. It starts at his neck, an unforgiving red reaching his cheeks in no time then mists itself to the very tips of his toes. Fists and jaw clenched as the fog before him clears. The Port Mafia executive pivots his body to face his former partner. Gloved hands grip furiously at the lapels of the brunette's trenchcoat, pulling him closer to his own body. "Are you listening to me?! I can’t believe you’re so stupid! How could you do something like that! Why would you-“

Dazai blinks, dumbfounded. Of course he does not realize what he has done wrong. Yet he relaxes into the grip his lover has on him, even relaxing into it; body having no choice but to flail with the movements. Chuuya's breath catches in his throat a lump forming which adds to his vexation.

"Chuuya, I made a choice." While the auburn haired man know this in his heart of hearts he realizes that it does not matter. Throwing one's own life on the line for any reason, Chuuya despises it. He did not need to absorb the damage, he should not have had to. Inwardly the anger is dissipating as Chuuya comes to the conclusion that he is the one to blame. That maybe his aggression is wildly misplaced.

Fire still wildly prods at Chuuya's veins burning his body up from the inside out though. Then as if upon instinct his hand reaches up to slap Dazai across the face. Nothing has ever been so loud. The latter does not make a single effort to stop him or rather catch his wrist to prevent him from even causing any harm. The inaction on his beloved's behalf proves to add additional fuel to his fire.

"You are reckless." Chuuya bites out through gritted teeth and what seems like will manifest into lockjaw from the mere pressure of the clench of his teeth at the moment. "Absolutely fucking reckless."

"Are you done?" No longer is the playful lilt present in Dazai's voice as his mouth moves at a leisurely pace. Seemingly burdened by the conversation. Chuuya finds that his heart is in his stomach faster than lightning strikes the night sky.

"You know what?" Nakahara spits with an obvious tone of annoyance, dropping his hands from the offending cloth he had previously been fisting, "Yeah."

It takes everything in his being to hold back the two words that sum up his thoughts, fuck you.

With that, the two former partners go their seperate ways.

Maybe he's being unreasonable. Chuuya ponders this all with his first drink of the night. Something light, a little red wine. With every tip of his head his brain supplies reasons on top of reasons to both be and not be upset.

This is stupid. He groans into his second glass of wine. Realistically speaking Chuuya knows and understands that Dazai cannot die. But it doesn't and will never stop him from reprimanding his beau's methods of "beautiful suicide" or outright selflessness. It's selfish, he knows. It's impossibly irrational to be upset at Dazai for something he cannot control. Something that wouldn't effect him in the long run. This being so the part of his brain that is constantly screaming at him never seems to die down.

What if one day it does not work? He's no longer immortal? ..Dazai dies.

Chuuya cannot fathom the thought.

Simmering in his raw emotions post-battle is never an ideal situation. Especially with alcohol. To say his tolerance for spirits is low is laughable. Chuuya does not have a tolerance if anything the alcohol tolerates him and his whining. A few shots of vodka in evolves the mafia member into a slurring mess. Consonants, syllables, and the messy grip on reality meshing together as another one of his fever dreams. Akutagawa watches with a grimace on his face, that of vague discomfort, while keeping an eye for broken glass around the table. Last time he had to press against a pressure point of his boss's to force him to submit.

Assumptions aside, it is rather obvious from the outside looking in to see what has happened to Chuuya. Seldom does the smaller boy ever turn into such a wreck. The additional blubbering of a familiar ADA detective's name is proof enough on its own. Chuuya's breath is ragged as he chugs down a glass of whiskey. It burns his throat. Alas it is nothing compared to the damage his heart took seeing Dazai injured on that field filled with still bodies. Back to the moment when he thought Dazai was going to join in and just be another body. His heartbeat stutters in his chest as he goes to rest his cheek on the wooden table. It's cold and wet but he doesn't mind. It reminds him of Dazai and his silly obsession with drowning himself. It's warm and salty. He's not entirely sure when tears started running down his face but within seconds everything cuts to black.

Chuuya wakes to the sound of running water being louder than he remembered previous to saying goodbye to the world for a while. The throbbing of his head coupled with the grating sound of water running has his body curling up. His arms cover his ears out of the fear of going deaf. The air in his chest is dead while there is a shuffling of feet behind him. Turning around he is greeted by a somnolent looking Ryuunosuke.

"What are you doing here?" Chuuya asks through a throat dry beyond comprehension. A glass of water is handed to him while he sits up in his bed. Obediently, he sips at it.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safely." His associate replies matter-a-factly while Rashomon peaks out behind his slender frame to shut off the sink water. "How are you feeling?"

"Like garbage." Chuuya laughs wryly through the brutally honest answer.

"Right then, I'll get going." Shuffling towards the door only to shout through it when closed. "Dazai wanted to talk." Chuuya spits out his water upon hearing the muffled words. As if on cue Dazai steps out of the shadows of his kitchen.

He's got to be kidding.

“I’m worried about you…” Dazai begins only to be cut off by a hungover Chuuya that absolutely does not want to be having this conversation right now.

"I can take care of myself!” Given the situation that Akutagawa was kind enough to fill him in on, Dazai knows better. Just a few hours apart and Chuuya is freefalling back into his messy habits of coping. Dazai even goes as far as to look at Chuuya pointedly, earning a mixture of an accusatory and exasperated gasp followed by a rather deep sigh.

“I just came to see how you were doing.” This earns a squint from the man sitting up shakily on his bed, a petulant pout forming on his lips. Dazai laughs nervously, trying to make light of the situation as he always does.

“And now it’s time for you to leave.” Chuuya deadpans aiming the glass of water at his lover out of pure spite. But of course Dazai expects it and dodges in time. It shatters against the wall leading into the kitchen much like how his heart shattered when Dazai decided to be an absolute halfwit.

"Chuuya." The soft tone plucks at his heartstrings, the years of companionship flooding his brain, tears form silently. His lower lip trembles as Dazai approaches him with hesitantly open arms. Chuuya rises to his knees to meet him halfway, falling into the chest that he is always sleeping on. "I'm sorry, Chuuya." The words are whispered just above his ear. Bandaged fingers rub at his neck in the form of a sorry that Chuuya will remember later. "I'm sorry."

Chuuya's shaky arms around Dazai's neck make his heart clench impossibly tight. As much as he teases his darling he does not enjoy upsetting him so. Chuuya hugs him suffocatingly close as if he were going to leave him at any second. Desperately clinging on while sobbing into Dazai's shoulder.

"Don't do it again, please." Staccato breaths patter across Dazai's collarbone. Dazai hums in agreement while pressing apologetic kisses into his hair.

“I love you.” A smile tugs at the bandaged man's mouth, to the naked eye it would be hard to find. Everything Dazai does is calm, calculated. Deliberately slow with meaning behind every action even if it's hidden. To say that attempting to read into his thoughts or actions is difficult is an understatement.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Jokingly the auburn haired mafiaoso responds through sniffles. Chuuya on the other hand is easier to read. Almost as if he were made of glass. His expressions are earnest, even when he does try to muddle them into something else entirely try to dissuade his company. Pink tongue sharp but the conviction behind such pretty words are always clear. The tone is cold, unforgiving with a bite of adoration. One that Dazai recognizes all too quickly.

After a few moments, Chuuya pulls Dazai down onto the bed with him. Though it's an awkward position Dazai understands the sentiment.

"I love you too."

#soukoku #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #skk #chuudazai #nakahara chuuya #not beta read

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anticidic · 18 days

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For the ask game: chuudazai bitching oneshot! I love these bickering assholes (affectionate)

chuudazai bitching oneshot:

crying and laughing at the same time because it's NOT gonna be what you think 😭 (well they do do a lot of bickering of course as usual)

nsfw under the cut:

this is actual a smutty non-traditional a/b/o one shot of alpha!Dazai and alpha!Chuuya. It's top!Chuuya and bottom!Dazai, and basically, Dazai just loves getting fucked so much, it messes with his biology and triggers a heat that only omegas get 😭 so this was gonna be a one-shot but with 2-ish chapters: them fucking as usual in the first chapter, and the second of Dazai feeling weird and kinda like he's coming down with a cold, then he and Chuuya are both collectively like 'what the fuck?'

and uh, YEAH. definitely bickering because it's all Chuuya's fault, but it's all Dazai's fault for consenting to taking it up in the ass in the first place. so Dazai's an omega now because his body decided to adapt, yay?

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cpoi-ssant · 2 years

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#bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #oda sakunosuke #odazai #chuudazai #akutagawa ryuunosuke #atsukyou #izumi kyouka #nakajima atsushi

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nachtgraves · 4 years

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8 for the kiss meme? Writer's choice!

Thank you for the prompt! Here’s some soukoku fluff.

Title: A Morning In // AO3Word Count: 1,145Warnings/Tags: M. Alternate universe, established relationship, dazai is a tease, domestic fluff sort of, model!chuuya, photographer!dazaiPrompt: kiss on stomach

Chuuya feels himself starting to wake up and he’s not about it. He’s in that fragile in-between of consciousness and unconsciousness where it’s so easy to tip one way or the other. Chuuya fights to slip back into the side of slumber. It’s his day off, something that is rare to the point of non-existent, and he wants to sleep past noon, he’ll even settle for sleeping until ten.

“Chibi?” drifts through his ears and he grumbles back, burying his face into his pillow, willing himself to go back to sleep. He’s the kind of person who, once awake, will remain awake. He can’t even take naps.

The body next to him shifts and Chuuya whines as the bed dips, the warmth moving away. Chuuya instinctively reaches out for it, pleased when his fingers find sleep-warm cotton and skin. He tugs on the piece of cloth he’s got his hands on until the warmth comes back, a solid length against his front. A hand strokes through his hair as a quiet laugh vibrates through the chest he snuggles against.

“Shhh. ‘M sleep,” Chuuya mumbles. “D’zai sleep.”

Fingers continue to comb through his hair, nails lightly scratching at his skull. He feels himself sinking back into hazy dreams with a sigh.

“Dazai’s been awake for a while. Chuuya should finish waking up and keep him company.”

Chuuya shakes his head, makes a disapproving sound. He frowns, nose scrunching up and a furrow creasing his brow. Of all the days for Dazai to wake up before him and be needy. He’s more than capable of entertaining himself, or better yet, go back to sleep for another hour or so until Chuuya was ready to wake up. Unlike Chuuya, Dazai manages to fall asleep with frustrating ease, especially when he’s on a tight schedule and his poor assistant has to find and wrangle him.

The hand in his hair strokes back and down his neck, making him squirm. When Dazai does it again, Chuuya huffs and rolls onto his back. But Dazai only follows after him, throws his arm over Chuuya’s waist. His hand slides up under the over-sized shirt Chuuya appropriated from Dazai’s closet. It was long enough to be a dress, which was an irritating reminder at their height difference, but it was comfy. Dazai really liked it on him too, as much as he’ll pretend to be annoyed that Chuuya won’t return it.

Dazai’s warm, calloused hand hand slides up Chuuya’s side, thumb smoothing over his lower ribs. Chuuya can feel Dazai’s stare boring into him and tries to ignore the feeling, but it’s like trying to ignore someone repeatedly poking your cheek with their index finger.

Chuuya gives in. He rolls back over squints his eyes open. Dazai’s staring down at him, raised on his elbow, chin cupped in his hand. His hair is ruffled from sleep and the dim light of the sun trying to shine through the drawn curtains bathes him in a soft, homey glow. If Chuuya weren’t sleepy and irritated, he’d lean up for a kiss from Dazai’s quirked mouth. As it is, Chuuya just narrows his eyes. Dazai’s grin widens in return.

“It’s our day off,” Chuuya complains.

“Yes, it is,” Dazai agrees.

“So why can’t you let me sleep in?” Chuuya’s tired and sleepy enough to not care too much about the fact that he’s openly sulking. Had he been more awake, he would have cringed at the way his voice cracked in a whine.

“Because—” Dazai slithers down the bed until his face just below Chuuya’s chest. He looks up through his eyelashes, mischief and the darkening of lust in his eyes—“It’s our rare day off.”

Between Chuuya being a famous and highly sought after model and Dazai a renowned and constantly in demand photographer, their schedules rarely allow for more than a handful of hours together, and even then one of them is usually on the verge of collapse from exhaustion.

Chuuya bites his lip. Sleep and lust battle for dominance, the languid warmth of slumber trying to push at the rising heat of arousal. It’s a one-sided fight.

In the dim light, Dazai’s eyes gleam in victory. Chuuya stubbornly frowns, tries to temper down his lust. Dazai’s grin turns into a smirk, one Chuuya is more than familiar with. It’s one the photographer wears when he finds a challenge he likes, one he knows he can win, has already considered won. Chuuya’s been on the receiving end of it more times than he can count. He’s yet to wipe it off the bastard’s face.

Dazai rucks up Chuuya’s shirt, baring his belly and the lower half of his chest. Dazai leans in, noses down the center of Chuuya’s chest, his breath tickling Chuuya’s skin, making him squirm. Chuuya tries to shift away, but Dazai holds him in place, hand firm and unrelenting at his hip. He continues his slow descent down Chuuya’s front and Chuuya holds his breath as Dazai approaches the top of his briefs that are growing tighter by the second, at each caress of Dazai’s warm breath. But Dazai slows and pauses when he reaches Chuuya’s belly button. He nuzzles into the soft skin of Chuuya’s belly and presses a kiss, soft and lingering. Chuuya thinks Dazai will move on, continue his path down Chuuya’s body to where he’s growing hard and hot and wanting. But Dazai seems content to be where he is. He places another kiss to Chuuya’s belly before turning his face and rubbing his cheek against Chuuya with a sigh, closing his eyes.

Chuuya stares down at Dazai, who’s breathing slows and body relaxes as he sinks back into the bed and his arm grows lax and heavy over Chuuya’s hip. Chuuya is wide awake now, hot and wired and very bothered. Astonishment quickly turns into angry disbelief.

“Dazai, I swear,” Chuuya threatens. He tries to kick at Dazai but Dazai’s pulled him too close to move his legs more than a few centimeters. He reaches down and grabs a handful of Dazai’s thick, messy hair, tugging upwards.

Dazai whines. “Nng, it’s our day off, chibi.” He opens one eye and pouts. Chuuya would have fallen for it if he didn’t know the bastard he was, for some reason, in love with.

“I’m going to kill you,” Chuuya says. He rolls them over, managing to fling his leg over Dazai and press Dazai flat on his back, sitting on Dazai’s chest. Dazai looks up innocently at him, a perfect facade of confused curiosity. Chuuya returns the look with a glare.

Dazai lets it last a moment longer before he lets the mask go with a grin. His hands smooth up Chuuya’s bare legs up to cup his ass under the fall of his shirt. “You can do something much better to me, Chuuya.”

#soukoku #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #bsd #bungou stray dogs #chuudazai #my writing #anonymous #ask #tumblr fic

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