A blog for written stuff, might it be fanfictions or original stories. I post everything both in French and English, French first. My works aren't beta-read, so please excuse the possible mistakes. And don't hesitate to point them out, especially because English is a language I am still learning. SEARCH BAR
Hello there ! Before getting to the main point, please let me say a big thank you to you all ! Although Iâm not that much active here anymore, I often see new notifications from you here and it really warms my heart ! A special thank you to the newest followers and welcome to you~
Itâs hard to update this Tumblr, mostly because I have a hard time finding well, time to work on anything to share, and also because Iâm hardly on Tumblr anymore. But Iâm not planning to drop this one and am really, really willing to be more active. One of my main projects is to restart âA Taste of Double Blackâ with a deeper plot and more context, so stay tuned about that. ;)
But, and we are getting to the main point, I also want to expand the ways and places where Iâm sharing my work as to help me be more regular and interactive. So I just created a Twitter account for that (Iâve been on Twitter for a long time but my âmainâ account is a mess of retweets, whining and sometimes a few works of mine). Here is the link if youâre interested !
Iâll share what I write and draw there. You will find drabbles and ficlets I wonât post anywhere else and Iâm thinking about posting the first, raw version of some of my fanfictions as threads in there (maybe the new version of âA Taste of Double Blackâ, for example), before posting a proofread version here and the finale one on AO3 like Iâve been doing so far. Weâll see !
The account is quite empty for now but feel free to check it !
Also a reminder that, even if I havenât posted any headcanons set for a long, long time, Iâm still open for requests (for Soukoku ones).
Thank you again for you support and please take care ! :)
La main de Chuuya autour de son cou se resserra. Pas de quoi empĂȘcher lâoxygĂšne de parvenir Ă ses poumons, mais suffisamment pour signifier un avertissement. Un tressaillement courut le long de son dos.
English
Bungou Stray Dogs
Soukoku
One shot
NSFW (just implied sexual content)
Itâs been a while I havenât been able to post a fic. I already hadnât much free time but itâs even worse now that Iâm done with my studies and work full-time. So thank you for being patient if you still read my works.
Anyway, about this one : itâs inspired by this Soukoku Trope Bingo (role reversal). I donât know if Iâll be able to do much from it, but at least it brings some inspiration. I also started the Space Opera one. You can see a small WIP on my art blog.
Also, if youâd rather like reading it on AO3, itâs already available on it, for once !
Sunset brought warm shades and misshapen shadows to the buildings, gray and unappealing. Two temporary attributes that befitted him oh so well. This silhouette, looking small and thin, but held by powerful limbs and moving with uncommon speed and flexibility. A certain elegance. The fiery color of his long hair, with perfect locks which could only attract curious fingers to feel their softness, perfectly fitted this moment of the day. And those eyes⊠Of a deep blue, as clear as a newbornâs irises, but filled with a flame as devastating as a cerulean fire.
The silhouette mingled with the shadows of the buildings, disappeared in them, then reappeared above them as if they could not tame it, in a choregraphy full of grace that the most famous ballets could only envy. The circle of men in black, all bigger and broader, was only dull extras. Their heavy weapons were only harmless copies decorating the skillfully performed play. Men and weapons equally fell, following an elaborate rhythm, as if struck by this revelation. The distance prevented any sound to come to him, from this theater stage, saved only for a few lucky privileged ones. Everything looked as if all of those protagonists were perfectly following this Overture in D major. What an excellent choice of music to watch such performance.
A light tinkling echoed when he pushed his hardly started glass of whisky down on the glass table. Would have it been a woman, he would have already fallen at her feet as he made people fall to their knees in front of him. He should admit, though, that this acute angle cutting his jaw, and the narrowness of those hips, brought out by a range of black pants flattering the thinness as much as the strength of his legs, gave him a singular kind of appeal that a young woman, as beautiful as she could be, would never imitate. No matter if it was a man, since his name had been modeled specifically for his lips.
âChuuyaâŠâ
Before he could think about it, both syllables escaped in a slow, warm breath. Both of his eyes, dark brown, with reflections tending towards blood red, pushed further against the pair of binoculars held up to his face by partially wrapped in bandages, and slightly moist, hands. He felt like a teenager surreptitiously watching between curtains a beautiful female neighbor getting changed in front of her window. The comparison was more relevant than it sounded. The guilty desire and the excitement from the clandestinity of the act which awakened a few emotions in his cold chest could be assimilated a bit to what the teenager felt.
From above, the last man in black was collapsing, probably knocked out, like all of his associates. The members of the Armed detective agency never killed. Chuuya was no exception, despite the violence sometimes going with his moves, the rage in his eyes that betrayed the potential of a murderer. What a waste⊠He sighed ; a few strands of brown hair falling on his face briefly flied with the breath. Well, he could not really complain about it, while the sought result had been reached. It was not the first time he had manipulated the Agency to get it to send the better martial artist of the city, to eliminate illegal gangs which were starting to disrupt Port mafia, but not important enough for him to make the effort to send his own men. He was just sorry about the fact that Chuuya was no part of them. The city would have been entirely theirs, without a doubt. Probably, the whole region, the capital too.
The young man froze for a moment behind the glass wall where he had set his observation post. Two deep blue eyes had resolutely turned towards him. Defiance and ferocity shined in a splendid combination. The distance could not allow them to see him. However, he was determined to show that he knew. Light shivers ran along his back, hidden under a long black coat.
No, even if Chuuya had been part of his men, it would not have been more satisfying in any way. He wanted to make him his. Trembling in pain under the skills of the man who could get any kind of confession, any kind of lies, any kind of truths out of those who got stubborn enough to be gifted with torture from his own hands. Or shaking from pleasure, between his body and sheets specially prepared for him. Any of them. Both would surely look perfect on him. He wanted to see both on his face. He was craving for it.
Cerulean eyes turned away to focus on the way back to his colleagues, still struggling with a few more dregs. A smile traveled the face under brown locks. It was the young manâs turn to turn away from the stage and walk further into the mainly empty room, apart from a glass table, a few chairs, a still full glass of whisky and the open bottle. He went to the door, opened it without a glance for the two men positioned on each side in the hall. An expression of cold satisfaction filled Dazai Osamuâs, the young leader of Port Mafia, face. Since his - soon - detective learned so fast, it was time to show him a higher level of difficulty.
.
Dazai and Chuuya were aware of each otherâs existence since they were sixteen years old. The first one was about to join the rank of Mafia executives, as the second one was fighting to protect the territory of his small gang of teenagers. Back then, this boy with such singular look had already caught Dazaiâs interest. He had noticed his abilities, assessed all of his still suppressed potentialities. Mori Ougai, head of the Mafia, too. That was the reason the brown haired boy had not tried his luck at luring this mere delinquent towards him then. He had always known that he was just a tool in Moriâs service ; he would have never let the latter do the same with Chuuya. Chuuya would be his or no oneâs. That was an absolute certainty. After all, they had been made for each other. One was in possession of a devastating and uncontrolled power ; the other was the only one who could appease and smother, temporarily, such monster. It would be the only occurrence of destiny Dazai would willingly admit, in this word made only from circumstances and uncertain occasions.
So the young man simply kept an eye on this little king. He had seen him seeking in vain answers about his origins, about his outstanding powers, getting betrayed by his own friends, and yet trying to protect, always, those who had stabbed him in his back ; ending finally alone, left behind by his own, deep humanity he wasnât even aware of. Not for long, however. Chuuya embodied this kind of persons who could never be left by the world with their own solitude for long. A feature that, maybe, deep inside, Dazai envied a bit.
So the former delinquent who had become an abandoned kitten had been taken in by the Armed detective agency and their director, precisely a cat lover. His power could then be handled and he was able to get the measure of it ; almost. Controlling the inhuman monster living in and with Chuuya implied that its strength had to be weakened slightly. Nonetheless, he was still one of the most dangerous ability users in Yokohama. Dazaiâs nullifying power sadly became a lot less essential. That was one of the reasons that convinced him to try his luck.
One of the reasons, because in just two years, a lot of things had changed and the context had nothing to do with what had lead him to his initial passivity. Osamu Dazai had become, at the age of eighteen years old, the youngest Port mafia leader in its whole history. Mori Ougaiâs blood was still embellishing one of the walls of the office, now reorganized. It had only been an equivalent response. To the blood he had made flown, from the surely only person who had ever looked at Dazai with sincerity, who had ever understood the pain, the fear, the confusion darkening his whole life. He had never been able to reach the place where Oda Sakunouke took his last breath. His body had never been given back to him. He had never given back to the mafia his former bossâs body. No one could use Chuuya out of Dazaiâs control anymore.
The black hole in his chest had widened ; his emotions gotten blunted ; the colors around him palled. On the opposite, the greed awakening in him every time his rival was mentioned had only heightened, the only emotion still leading the blood in his veins. The young man had then decided he had watched him from the shadow long enough. He had approached Chuuya, ready to jump away like a scared cat, discovering back the boy dressed in black after hearing about his last abuses, after learning in detail the way he had assassinated the man he had served as his right-hand man. What a nice view had it been.
The new âbossâ knew he had nothing Chuuya would want. He only had money, power, violence. Forcing him to join, with blackmail or lies, was no use. Chuuya was a wild, untameable cat, who only listened to what he deeply desired inside. His initiative had only aimed for a little, clear show of his interest in the detective, to make him understand that, despite his refusals, he would not let him live in peace. The implied promise had always been fulfilled so far. His wild prey knew it, didnât try to run away, defied him every time. He wanted to see it fall in his hands so muchâŠ
Chuuya was the type who see the persons surrounding him as essential in his life. He liked conviviality and there was no better occasion to have both than a successful mission. Thus wasnât it surprising for him to gather his colleagues in order to share a drink this evening. A drink with no alcohol at first, for the youngest. He would bring a smaller group in his favorite bar two hours later, to taste a few glasses of wine or sake, it depends. When everyone would, one after the other, start to leave for their bed, when the young man would, as usual, be part of the last clients, staggering a bit on his stool, Dazai would be here to entice him to him.
The establishment was starting to empty, when the young man with brown locks entered. Three familiar figures were sitting around a table near the bar. Kunikida had stayed longer than usual - which was not part of his plan, seeing the glances he kept casting at the hour -, with Yosano and Chuuya, more cheerful than usual. He was clearly not willing to let the doctor of the Agency alone with her colleague, fearing, not to let them alone together, but that they would keep on drinking an that neither of them would be able to find the way back to one of the otherâs apartment.
The mafioso settled on a table close to the entry door, after ordering his usual brand of whisky. He had left his long coat in the black car with tinted windows, waiting on the end of the street, and had slightly loosened the tie around his neck, almost looking like a businessman stopping by to relax after a hard day of work. âAlmostâ was the keyword, judging by the suspicious look the waiter gave him. Whatever, he rather liked when things were clear for everyone.
A loud laugh echoed from the detectivesâ table. Chuuya nonchalantly put an arm around the back of his chair, pushing his head backwards with an amused look. A few droplets brimmed over his glass to crash onto the floor next to him. In his move, he quickly and loosely looked around the room. His face froze right at the moment his eyes met Dazaiâs. And wasnât it beautiful, the surprise on his face and his pink cheeks from the alcohol. The still slightly wet corner of his lips made a few sparkles, that were supposed to appear in a teenagerâs stomach, not a famous leader from the underground world, explode.
This blue and fierce flame came back under the auburn locks. It was welcomed by a mocking smile. The young man turned his gaze away after a disdainful raise of eyebrows, getting back to his conversation with his colleagues. A brief laugh shook Dazaiâs shoulders. The mere fact that he had not tried to highlight their main enemyâs presence told him that his plan was working perfectly. So he was not surprised when the young man let Kunikida and - after much persuasion - Yosano stand up. Despite the blond haired manâs clear annoyance, his co-worker stated that he would stay just a few minutes longer, to get down with his drink - hurriedly adding that he would not drink more than this glass anymore and that he would directly get back home after it. The mafioso turned his face away when the two agents walked through the doorway, before standing up immediately to take a seat in front of the last occupant of the table. Chuuya was bringing his glass to his lips, his eyes closed, not paying any mind to him.
âItâs been a while, right, Chuuyaâ, he noticed in a low voice.
A disillusioned laugh answered him. Chuuya finally condescended to open his eyes to look straight at him.
âA few hours for you, not much ?â
A fake pout appeared on Dazaiâs lower lip.
âI mean, since we have been able to talk together.â
âHave we ever âtalked togetherâ before ?â
âCome on, Chuuya, itâs hurtful ! Why do you have to be so aggressive ?â
Despite his hurt tone, the mafia boss nonchalantly grabbed the bottle of sake settled between them. He first checked if it was really empty before studying the label, wondering out loud how many months of salary was worth such quality for a member of the armed detectives.
âWhat do you want, this time ?â
He turned again to his table mate to hold his gaze. He liked this young manâs outspokenness, the sincerity coming from his every words, even the harsher ones, his every moves. His eyes never failed to fascinate himâŠ
âChuuya⊠Canât I want some quality company, from time to time ?â
âIâm not a call girl, go find someone else.â
âDonât underestimate yourself like thatâŠâ
Chuuya just looked at him straight in his eyes, when he slid the tip of his fingers on the back of his hand, settled on the table. He drew a few random shapes on it, hardly brushing the leather covering it. The detective sucked in a breath for a moment. His face stayed firmly defiant. A shiver ran along Dazaiâs back. He would enjoy slowly undoing this expression, and would do it this same night, without a doubt.
âCan I offer you one last drink ?â
.
If Chuuyaâs steps were not perfectly confident when both men left the establishment, his gaze certainly was. He was leering at the young boss with a suspicious look, as if trying to read his intentions through the mask of smug serenity, and guessing a part of them. His reflexes had not been weakened by alcohol either. The way he swiftly avoided Dazaiâs hand trying to reach for his shoulder - with no ulterior motive or real bad intention, but still trying to reach for him - proved it enough. The young man did not let that disconcert him and hurried his steps to reach him back, not trying any physical contact this time.
âMay I get you back home ?â, he just said in a breath.
The way his brief drinking companion looked at him held an incredible clarity. He was coldly answered that said companion lived not that far from here and did not need anyone to escort him to his home ; he had planned to get back on foot, his faithful motorbike was carefully parked far away from any danger of a drunken accident. Dazai just answered with a âhmâ only meant to signal that he had heard him. Both young men walked side by side, in the darken streets, for long minutes. An irritated sigh eventually broke the silence between them.
âWhat are you still doinâ here ?â, Chuuya snarled, getting to an abrupt stop.
âIâm taking a walk.â
âFollowing me and sticking to me ?!â
âWell, in all likelihood.â
The young detective kicked the ground angrily. A few, light cracks opened in the asphalt around it.
âIâve already told you thereâs no way Iâd negotiate with you, Dazai. I wonât change my mind. I wonât join your shady guys.â
âIâve never implied anything about that for the whole nightâ, Dazai stated, a smile slowly spreading on his face.
âWhat do you want, thenâŠ?â
Silence followed. Dazai watched the dark street spreading before them, looking thoughtful. He knew that Chuuya would not be convinced by this expression, but faking and lies, all of them flagrant, were part of a long-standing game between them.
âLetâs say, spending a simple employeeâs average night.â
Both vivid blue eyes looked at him for a small moment, betraying the surprise caused by this unexpected answer. He adored and hated the expression, a hardly decipherable one, that crossed them to vanish immediately and let the place to the usual hostility which was typical of them when they turned towards chocolate irises. An irritated sigh passed through thin, pink lips.
âFind another guinea pig.â
âAh, but Chuuya is the ideal height !â
The kick, or rather the attempt, was easily anticipated. Stepping aside in a quick and smooth move, the mafioso took advantage of the occasion to get closer to the detectiveâs unguarded side and firmly put an arm around his waist. His own move had also been perfectly predicted and was welcomed by the sharp blade of a knife that stopped at the exact place his throat ended the attempt at getting closer, so close to the other throat decorated with a leather choker. Both men stared at each other for a while, taking advantage of the solitude and darkness of the followed alley.
The words were whispered like a secret, against the auburn locks :
âYou can show me, canât you ? What is an average night.â
Here is one of those absolutely intoxicating things about Chuuya : lies and dissimulation mingled so tightly with furtive sincerity and honest looks that he himself did not know where the faking stopped anymore.
.
In the silence of the humble apartment block, the sound of the key turning in the lock echoed for an abnormally long moment. However, no sound accompanied the opening of the door, that moved aside to offer them the dark and narrow lobby, immediately opening on the living room equipped with a kitchenette. The opened shutters let the light from public lighting and signs enter, revealing a relative order in this small two bedroom flat. A place typically maintained by a very occupied person who tried to keep an organized home around them.
However Dazai did not have the time to detail the inside more, enough to know the tenantâs habits. The sudden movement of air was the only signal that warned him about the spinning of an arm in his back. He just closed his eyes and formed a serene smile to welcome it. A leather-covered hand grabbed him by his throat, violently turned him around and took him to the ground. The fall was hard enough to get a painful breath out of him. The raised ground floor of the living room hit his shoulder blades.
The entry door shut behind them. The outside lights reflected like blue flames in the detectiveâs eyes, a knee and a foot firmly pressed on each side of his hips, a hand still menacing around his throat, the other one showing him the sharpened side of the same blade that had already warned him before. The mafioso could only voice his approval in front of the beauty of this picture. The detective merely raised a disapproving eyebrow.
âI canât believe you came here without any weaponâ, he rather noticed, looking suspicious.
Without any weapon nor phone, discreetly dropped down a trash can on their way. If both men were perfectly well aware that Dazai knew his clearly first interestâs address, he did not need anyone else, in Port Mafia, to enjoy this information. The driver and the bodyguard who escorted him to the bar had gotten used to his unpredictable disappearances for a long time anyway.
âYou can check all you want, Chuuyaâ, he assured, spreading his arms on the floor as an invitation.
The young manâs - badly imitated - disgusted look was not relevant. He would have never denied him the possibility to let him run his fingers along his body in a long inspection. Except maybe that the pressure of the raised floor against his shoulder blades was becoming hard to stand.
Chuuyaâs hand around his neck tightened its grip. Not enough to stop the oxygen to reach his lungs, but enough to send him a warning. A shiver ran along his back.
âYouâre sickening. Zero dignity. If you could see the way you look at me. Like a dog.â
A pout briefly appeared on Dazaiâs lips as an answer to the animal comparison. He didnât linger over it however, having a better argument :
âOh ? Should I give you a few minutes so that you could go watch yourself in your mirror ? It would grant you some time to put yourself together too.â
The tenant was about to reply ; he reduced him to silence by slowing sliding his knuckles against his jaw, then his cheek. With the pad of his thumb, he stroked the pair of pink lips.
âNow, Chuuya⊠Show me, as we agreed. First⊠show me what itâs like, to be kissed by an average employee.â
It would have been difficult to point the worst game out with conviction, between the mafiosoâs fake reflection, and the detectiveâs disdainful look, as he was already leaning down to him, his eyes attached to the smug smile waiting for him. Only the very first touch resembled gentleness. Chuuya answered the demand with fierceness. He immediately explored everything that could be offered to him, his tongue caressing Dazaiâs palate with delicious greed. He let a slight growl out to voice his approval. The taste of blood quickly invaded his senses. His temporary partnerâs hands slid on each side of his face to tilt it and thus reach a bit more, a bit better, his lips. He was his for the night.
Two bandaged hands circled the black, tight jeans-covered thighs. They climbed up to the groin, causing a thrust of the hips, smooth and provocative. He knew what he was doing. Dazai tried to convince himself that this discovery did not do anything to him ; especially not any kind of bouts of completely inappropriate possessiveness.
Cerulean eyes reappeared in his field of vision as both young men found some distance back between them. The cheeks framed by auburn locks had tinted with a pretty pink hue ; kissing him again like a boundless lover was not part of the plan or even acceptable actions, so Dazai buried this inconvenient desire deep down in his chest. He rather took advantage of the break to sit up, shivering when the move revived the pain crossing his back in an horizontal, and most certainly crimson, line under his chest.
âSuch violence for someone so short who pretend to save peopleâŠ!â, he winced.
A fierce splendor.
His collar was brutally grabbed, bringing him forwards and, before his senses could find their bearings, a pair of lips found back his. A fierce and impulsive splendor. His cold reasoning displayed some vague hopes to surrender to it in order to find a bit of warmth here.
Oxygen reached his lungs back brutally. His breath was abnormally short. And⊠Could there be a better view that the expression mixing defiance and desire on his detectiveâs features ? Probably not. In his everyday life made of frozen calculations, the young man had forgotten reality could exceed his expectations.
âIâm going to regret all of this. Iâll make you regret it too, believe me on this.â
Chuuyaâs voice was hoarse, broken from his panting breath. He could never make him regret this nightâŠ
Ah, except if he kept kissing him so much⊠Dazai could not allow himself to get feelingsâŠ
.
That night, Chuuya did not grant him access to his bedroom. It was only a matter of time, though. Dazai could be very patient. He could very well be satisfied with the hoarse moans deliciously caressing his eardrums, with every bit of skin he could unveil, with every thrusts of hips guided by a passion he had never tried with any other partner ; at least for now.
In the silence of the night, briefly suspending time just to let a a deserving place to the first lights of dawn, the young boss from Yokohamaâs rough areas only left two evidences of his visit. A black jacket covered pale shoulders, raised by the slow rhythm of a sleeping breath, on the dark couch of the living room. On the table, the detectiveâs phone emitted a weak light for a few seconds. On the screen, a new contact had been created, with only a phone number. Â Waiting to be saved.
The outside air was cool and the street entirely empty. The young man would walk for some time, enjoying the rarity of the moment, before letting his presence known to his men. To a few enemies too, but it didnât matter, they would all be eliminated.
@readenheimâ add this on this Soukoku headcanons post and I felt the need to share !
So, since Iâm at it, Iâm taking the liberty of adding a few of headcanons on my own. Iâll just add that everything below has not been approved beforehand by @readenheimâ and they may disagree freely.
Thank you for this burst of inspiration~! â€ïž
Yes, Dazai did set kitchens on fire before. A significant amount of kitchen, even. He has the reputation of a horrible cook.
However, were they real attempts at cooking or was he actually trying to reach the sweet release of death ? Itâs hard to tell, really, when you look at the disastrous results.
And yet, Dazai has already proven he can be a wonderful cook. Ah, well, only three persons know that, and well... The first one is dead, second one has very intricate contacts with him since his betrayal... So, only Chuuya remains.
Dazaiâs mouth-watering dishes always seem to be an accident. Failed attempts at trying poisonous recipes most of the time. Chuuya getting a taste of Dazaiâs suicidal obsession takes the cake but well... He canât just let such tasty thing go to waste, right ?
And Chuuya knows Dazai better than that. There were too many âaccidentsâ already for him to believe in them. Dazai is just a lazy ass and doesnât want anyone to know he has such a skill, so that he doesnât have to make the effort of cooking for anyone.
But sometimes Dazai can make this effort. It mostly happens because he wants something from Chuuya. It involves trying weird things in the bedroom afterwards, most of the time. Or something that will annoy Chuuya.
This is still very new, but in the latest turn of their relationship (something a bit more intimate, a bit more honest), Dazai cooking can also be a convoluted way to apologize. His food tastes different, on those times. Chuuya canât exactly put words on it yet. This will take a while. To get used to this. But it feels... soft and sweet. Which is unusual.
They never, ever cook together though. They would not just set fire to Chuuyaâs kitchen. They would make it explode.
Dazai is still trying to make Chuuya cook for him in an apron. Well, naked under an apron, of course. A frilly pink apron, if possible. The one he has already bought just in case. The closest to that wish he has ever gotten was Chuuya cooking pancakes in just an apron (black, expensive apron Dazai canât touch if he wants to keep his two hands, huh) and boxers, on a free morning, during the hottest days of summer. Not quite what he wanted. But warm and intimate and... yeah, to be honest, it felt nice. Still. Dazai is not giving up on his naked Chuuya in his pink frilly apron, duh.
Anyway, to word it in broad outline, Chuuya is good for traditional, quick dishes. Dazai is excellent at more complicated dishes. So Chuuya still cooks most of the time...
When Chuuya gets home too late for that, he can only find two situations : 1) a whiny, starving Dazai or 2) the wonderful, mouth-watering smell, of just ready to be eaten dishes. As if Dazai exactly knows when Chuuya would get home. He should worry about that, someday.
Ratio is 90% for the first occurrence. At least. Bastard is lucky Chuuya (secretly) likes both sides of him. Every side of him. Somehowâ
Aaah my dad and mom were proud too :"3 where I live French isn't popular so finding a tutor or just going to after school classes is hard and expensive, so learning it has been difficult. At this point all the French I know is what I've learned in school (which isn't much) and some stuff I've studied on my own. I love the language so much and I hope this year I can continue to learn it and hopefully find someone professional :') MERCI BEAUCOUP D'AVOIR RĂPPNDU Ă MON MESSAGE ET BONNE JOURNĂE!!
Itâs nice to know you like this language ! I hope you can keep studying it then !
Car bien sûr, bien sûr Dazai serait, sera celui qui mourra le premier. En aucun cas, absolument en aucun cas, il ne laisserait Chuuya disparaßtre le premier.
La porte fut ouverte avec brusquerie et dans un relatif fracas. Le silence se fit aussitĂŽt tandis que tous les regards se tournaient vers une figure en noir dont ressortaient quelques mĂšches de cheveux flamboyantes et deux yeux bleus aux aguets. Quelques minutes passĂšrent sans un mouvement.
- Quoi, vous voulez ma photo ?, lança Chuuya en refermant la porte derriÚre lui sans aucune douceur.
Sure ! And Iâm so sorry for the delay ! Iâll be able to be a bit more active here, if work let me. Anyway, I hope those will be okay ! Iâm more on the fluffy side of this fandom. Every time I read angst about them ends with me being an emotional messâ So, theyâre a bit âgenericâ I guess ? If youâd like to get something more specific, please feel free to ask !No NSFW part this time, but a general warning : this isnât exactly SFW.⊠Iâm not even sure itâs that agnst-y anyway. OTL
Communication is not their forte. Well, Chuuya doesnât try to hide his feelings or thoughts, but actually sitting down to talk and sort things out calmly is not something any of them is good at. They donât really try anyway. Thatâs useless.
So there are a lot of unsaid things in their relationship. A lot of frustration. A lot of misunderstanding.
And Dazai stays silent on the nights he doesnât sleep at Chuuyaâs place without prior warning, lets unknown perfume linger on him. Because he loves it, when Chuuya angrily, frustratingly, desperately, but also so hungrily kisses him.
He wants Chuuya to makes him come unravel. He wants Chuuya to break him. What a shame, he is too caring to do it, too kind not to stop when Dazai asks him to, is almost on the verge of begging him to stop, when theyâre in the bedroom, on this frail line between desire and resentment. Because a part of him still wants him to do it, to break everything inside of him and just see whatâs under here.
When Dazai was still in the mafia, there was this time he was the cause of Chuuya in a hospital bed, into an artificial coma, ribs broken. Ah, but this was Chuuyaâs fault. Trying to stop him from an attempt to end it all, right from the top of the Mafia headquarters. As he didnât know he couldnât use his ability with Dazai. As he didnât know he couldnât do much with just 0,6 seconds before No Longer Human forces them both to crash onto the ground. And yet⊠yet they were both aliveâŠ
What was it ? Regrets ? Resentment ? When he tried to tear off Chuuyaâs artificial respiration system. He doesnât know. He doesnât want to know. No one told Chuuya about it anyway. Not even the nurses who asked for Dazai to be definitely expelled from there.
Dazai then realized he wanted to hurt Chuuya. To break him. So that Chuuya could feel a tiny bit of what he feels. So that Chuuya would try to hurt him too. But somehow⊠somehow he knows he canât.
After the shenanigans with the Guild, and Dazai moved half (maybe a bit more) of his stuff at Chuuyaâs penthouse, things didnât exactly got perfect. Especially, around the day of Odaâs death. Dazai tends to disappear then.
Chuuya eventually understood itâs hard for Dazai. Tried to change his mind that part of the year. Offering him to go out, planning special nights, and all. Heâs always been found alone and drunk so far. So drunk that he wouldnât remember there were actual tears in his eyes.
Dazai figured this : there is a 70% chance of Chuuya crying on his deathbed. And what a nice sight, as the last thing heâd ever look at. And maybe, just maybe, heâd be able to admit, to himself, and to Chuuya, that he loves him. When it would be too late for him to fear losing those âI love you tooâ, heâd hear back.
Because of course, of course Dazai would, will be the one to die first. There is no way, absolutely no way, heâd let Chuuya disappear first.
Well, they could die together. A splendid death in each otherâs arms. But that means watching Chuuya dying. Just the idea causes violent shivers running though Dazai. Anxiety or excitement ? Does he want to know ? It will never happen anyway. Dazai will make sure of that. So whatâs the point of wondering ? Whatâs the point of this aching, dull pain in the void spreading in his chest ?
Wanting to die is a pain⊠when you donât want to see the one you want to die with, dying. Maybe in their next life heâll admit it ? Maybe in their next life theyâll be so happy he wouldnât want to die ? Yeah, maybe⊠Not in this one thoughâŠ
Iâm getting really guilty for not answering people and all, so here is a short notice. I deeply apologize but I may take some time to update this blog and answer everyone. I also have a few WIP for some headcanons and all, but theyâll take some time to come.
Iâm currently very busy, and more importantly Iâm going through important personal issues and canât focus at all on writing or even headcanons. I hope you understand and Iâm sorry ! Iâll come back as soon as things get a bit better.
Take care, everyone ! â
English
Bungou Stray Dogs
Soukoku (just a bit at the end) & platonic Dazatsu
One shot
SFW (TW though : implied suicide attempts)
For DazaixHappiness week 2nd Day : How to suicide love / Birthday party. Third day will be on my art blog again.
This... got out of hand. Like, it was supposed to be much shorter and somehow it feels like it changed into a series of short stories with a shared story line more than a whole, single one shot.
I ended this in a rush honestly and, as some of you know, I had to translate it in English after getting done with the original version. So I really, really hope itâs not too bad. I did work hard on it. I may fix this when Iâll post int on AO3... probably next week, I hope.
Oh, by the way, this has some references, well, about BSD manga and BSD Wan, but also about the real life authors. Can you spot them~?
Happy birthday, Dazai~! áŠ
   June 11th.
   The clinking noises of typing on a keyboard, with a tolerable speed, mingled in a well-known tune, of those sounds creating unfailing everyday life and familiarity, even where it wasnât meant to appear. Atsushi looked up from the screen of the laptop settled in front of him for a few seconds, searching for the appropriate word he could not get a grab on. His gaze briefly scanned the office facing him, quickly noting a few of his colleagues in their most usual situation. In front of him, the grating of the plastic bag, wriggled with meticulous regularity, to the rhythm of Ranpoâs fingers getting one sweet after another. To his right, the sounds of Kunikidaâs keyboard, smashed at an exaggerated, almost nervous speed. Leaning against one of the windows, Kenjiâs heel nonchalantly tapping the floor, not caring about any tempo, too occupied as he was watching the city-dwellersâ swarming life. Behind his back, another sound, a lot less pleasant to his ears, of metallic items grinding against each other ; Yosano, busy with âmaintainingâ her âwork tools". Finally, a few steps away, Naomiâs enamored monologue, having some tea with her brother between two files. The scenery was one of a distressing banality, some that could only be noticed, eventually, by someone who had not known the slow repetition of everyday life for far too many years.
   Both two-tone eyes found their way back to the screen in order to type a few letters without real confidence. The young man was trying to remember the previous afternoon so that he could render it into the most accurate report he could master. The route he had followed with Dazai and the comments the latter had done about the case involved back then - a potential abduction of a kid on account of an ability - paraded in his mind. He reassessed his mentorâs words. This feeling was getting familiar too, but he could not prevent the surprise from overwhelming him every time he realized how right his reasoning and anticipations were once the investigation was solved. By the wayâŠ
   He examined the small space on the screen giving the time in a digital format. The morning was getting quite late, and Dazai had still not passed the door of the Agency. Atsushi thought it right to mention it out loud. As if this situation was not a part of everyday life too - some familiarities are not good to keep. Kunikidaâs frantic typing stopped. A sigh replaced them.
   â Nothing to worry about. Heâll just appear from nowhere in a poor state or Iâll get a call soon from the police office to pick him out of there. Itâs always like that at this part of the year. You can expect, starting from now, two very hard weeks. Take it as a test. â
   â A test ? Why this part of the year ? â, Atsushi asked, looking perfectly confused.
   â One : the test. To determine how long youâre still going to be able to put up with this whining wimp. Two : this part of the year. This desperate caseâs birthday. Itâs surprising he hasnât started harassing you yet. Get ready. The longer it takes to happen, the hardest it will be. â
   Atsushi was opening his mouth again still looking as much questioning. His colleague stopped him :
   â Yes, two weeks. One before it, when he does all of his âpreparationsâ. It seems like he does all of his âbest attemptsâ from the previous year. One year ago, it was death by suffocation, defenestration from a rooftop. Among other ones, of course. And the second week is after his birthday. Since he couldnât get into his grave, he harasses his colleagues instead to beg for money as a birthday gift. Ah, right⊠Itâs exactly on June 19th. You can get yourself ready mentally-speaking. And to do his work too, potentially. Of course, he doesnât do anything here for those two weeks. At least, even less than usual. â
   Tanizakiâs voice raised from behind the wooden screen hiding the sofa from the desks :
   â Thatâs impressing, Kunikida ! I couldnât remember everyoneâs birthday if I wasnât checking on my calendar. I even forgot Dazai was born in June. â
   Kunikida answered nothing ; he looked like he was hiding some embarrassment, though. Atsushi saw him slide a hand towards his precious notebook, carefully settled close to his workstation. He wondered if he had written every membersâ birthday right beside his â ideals â. Even Dazaiâs. From sheer curiosity, the boy would have wanted to ask about it. His probable reaction appeared in his mind before he could do it, however, and he immediately changed his mind.
   â Ah, now that I think about it, wasnât there an attempt with fireworks too, last year ? â, Tanizaki said, coming back to the part of the room dedicated to work.
   The newest recruit from the Agency quickly understood that it had been an attempt to blow himself up in the middle of â fireworks "⊠Could they really get accustomed to this⊠strange part of Dazaiâs personality so casually ? His colleagues got hooked on it and started talking about the incident. It seemed that Dazai had "accidentallyâ ran into a stock of explosive devices. And some people getting instructions right from the government owned the warehouse in question. Someone called âSakaguchiâ, coming right from the Special ability Department, had personally taken care of this case. No one really knew who was this Sakaguchi, by the way - and it seemed liked Dazai had made sure no one would know anything.
   Eventually, only one conclusion imposed on Atsushi. His mentorâs birthday did not sound like it was favorable for celebrations. It felt too much familiar. And it was also so sad. Even for someone like DazaiâŠ
   His decision was made. Whatever kind of frowns he could get from his colleagues or Ranpoâs mocking smirk. He would prove that this day could be celebrated : he would hold a birthday party, and a decent one ! After all, he owned him at least that. Against all odds, after some obvious reluctance, everyone was (relatively) convinced by the newcomerâs enthusiasm.
.
   The first considerations and preparations were not difficult to do. The main guest hardly sent any sign of life in the two days following Atsushiâs decision. He proclaimed himself â ill from an unknown illness with, as the main symptom, the inability to leave oneâs bed â on the first day, with a phone call to Kunikida. The following afternoon, he was using the same number to send him a message with a shopping list consisting mainly of alcoholic drinks. His partner almost threw his phone across the nearest window, before he remembered it was his. The only real risk, actually, was that Dazai could annoy the Agency members so much that they would give up on any kind of celebration⊠like the previous year, or so it seemed.
   The place did not pose any major problem either ; or rather, choices were very limited so that they did not really have to wonder about it. They would use the Agency, temporarily pushing desks against the walls - it took Kunikida some time to get convinced ; it was promised that only he could touch his desk to move it. They did not have any budget to rent a hall and no one owned a place big enough for them to meet all and not being cramped. The sum on one of Akutagawaâs paychecks, he had shown him once as his monthly earnings, furtively and treacherously crossed his mind.
   Talking about Akutagawa⊠Maybe he was thinking too much about it, but, after the place, should they consider the guestsâŠ? Of course, all of the Agency was invited, but should he think beyond that ? He did not know who Dazai could meet outside of work at all⊠Or if there was anyone. Probably ? After all, Dazai was popular⊠Well, thatâs what he was thinking, at least ? He could think about it as much as he could, his mentor never mentioned anyone Atsushi did not know directly from their mutual employer. Except from⊠one person, one he talked about only to criticize them in a negative way ? Who was from the opposite side - but they currently were on a truce and so wondering about it was possible.
   Now that he was studying this case - something that Dazai had skillfully avoided until now, it seemed, by only sliding implied comments, in moments and situations which would prevent anyone from wondering immediately about their frequency -, his ex-partner was rather often mentioned. It was only things like â Iâm sure a certain micro mafia was there â, â it smells like hat rack, donât you think ? â, â I rarely had such a bad moment, except with some chuu-huahua â. That being said, Atsushi could brag about starting to know him well ; he could now easily determine when Dazai was mentioning Chuuya Nakahara, even though he never used his name, but a myriad of degrading diminutives from what sounded like an infinite list. And yet, he did mention him, and he had done it often since their hard-luck story with the Guild. Did they meet outside of work ? Nothing could prove it, but something like instinct whispered to Atsushi that, yes, they did. Anyway, no one could talk so regularly about someone else⊠not wanting it at all⊠rightâŠ?
   Bringing it up to his colleagues was out of the question. They would only try to put him off this rather crazy idea and he would surely regret not trying. Well, it was a bit of a hazardous betâŠ
   This morning, just before heading to work, and as he let Kyouka leave first, Atsushi took a decision he would have thought inconceivable just a few minutes before it : he grabbed his second-hand cellphone, opened his contacts list and searched for Akutagawaâs name. How had they exchanged their phone number was a mystery even for them. The facts were that they both had it and had not erased in only minutes after saving it. Using it was another whole story though⊠It was a true first time for the young man this one day.
   The tone of the call echoed for a long time and he thought Akutagawa would never answer. Yet, as the answerphone was about to set off, he heard someone answering the call. Then, silence.
   â H-hello ? Um, AkutagawaâŠ? â
   Still, the same silence. Atsushi held his breath, both of his hands tensing around his phone, which was like glued to his ear. He repeated the name of the one who was supposed to be at the other end of the line in a questioning mumbling.
   â What do you want, Jinko ? â
   Atsushi swore silently that he would never admit he jumped from surprise at this very moment.
   â Akutagawa⊠I have something to ask you â, he stated with a tone he wished sounded solemn.
   A slight sound came to his ear, like a snort, but he got no⊠âhumanâ answer. After another moment of hesitation, he hurried to get to the point, realizing the person he was calling could just decide to put the phone down on him any time.
   â What do you know about Dazai and Chuuyaâs⊠relationship ? â
   Akutagawaâs surprise was not exactly audible. However his⊠âoccasional partnerâ (?) felt it very clearly. And was only granted by silence again. As he was trying to repeat his question, he found himself bumping against a wall of oppositions. For a reason he could not understand, mentioning this subject was absolutely forbidden. He insisted.
   â What do you want to do about this information ? â
   Fatal question. Admitting the reason of his wonders meant that he could not decline the young manâs presence the night of June 19th. Dazai would not be pleased about that, for sure. As he would complain about Chuuya being here too anyway. Yet⊠He sighed. This was the only concession he would do to reach his goal.
   Akutagawaâs interest was still as quiet, but it increased in an almost visible way through the communication. To the point that Atsushi thought about sitting down for a moment, and he would have done it, if the idea of physically lowering down did not repel him so much - well, Atsushi would have been the only witness, but it was already too muchâŠ
   Talking about his initiative did not get him any real answer to his question, or any explanation either, though. However, he understood that Akutagawa was giving him his approval. Only his approval. Before hanging up with no warning. The boy kept the phone against his temple for a while, staring at the immaculate and shining sink of his kitchenette, looking outraged. As he was staying motionless, in order to get sure he could really not hear anything from the other end of the line anymore, the device vibrated against him to inform him about the reception of a message. He eventually pulled it away from his face and checked the small screen. A message from his recent call - the very first one from him - was displayed, with a phone number. Atsushiâs heart rate suffered from some uncontrolled frenzy.
   Taking some furtive side glances around him, as he was about to do something particularly compromising, he saved the series of numbers in his contacts list under the name âNakaharaâ. Then, after a long moment of hesitation, he opened it. Another minute passed with his finger hovering over the phone call icon. He eventually could not find the strength for that and chose to write a written message instead. Today was still a day full of first times, anyway.
   Atsushi swiftly left home, in order to not get late. He attempted, with some difficulty, to find a way to formulate his invitation message to someone he hardly knew, but he knew to be quite short-tempered and not exactly the kind to jump at an event involving his ex-partner - at least from joy⊠While he was barely and somehow avoiding some passer-by, the text, modified so many times already, took on a more and more look of some sort of official declaration of intent and he wondered if his message could ever get too long to be sent⊠It was about truce - several times, just in case -, about free - but really, really free, no obligation at all here ! - choice and finally, after two paragraphs and a few dozens lines, about Dazai. At last, after reading it again for the fifth time, he pushed the sending icon as if it was a button that had something about life and death. The young detective then realized he had frozen on a crosswalk and hurried to reach the building where the Agency was waiting for him.
   As he was about to enter the building, his phone vibrated again. He jumped as if he was under a death threat. Nakahara Chuuyaâs name was displayed on the screen like an order to answer in the following second. Maybe was he really under such threatâŠ
   â Whatâs that ?! â, was the immediate exclamation, even before any kind of âhâ from a very hypothetical âhelloâ could be articulated. â Nakajima⊠The were-tiger, Dazaiâs newest flunky, huh ?! How did you get this number ?! I didnât understand anything ! I am supposed to do something for this idiot ?! With his stupid bunch of âgood peopleâ or something ?! What did this pathetic excuse for a human being do to you to force you into asking me something like that ?! â
   The boy stayed frozen on the threshold of the building, one arm reaching for the door. He jumped again when the Mafia executiveâs voice resounded, pressing him to answer.
   â I⊠What should I start to answer firstâŠ? â
   The whole conversation sounded unreal. Like a dialogue of the deaf too, for its first half, at least. It also lasted quite a long time, considering how they got so little things out of it when it ended⊠At least enough for Kunikida to poke his head through several windows of the agency to check if their newest recruit was finally coming and, when he finally spotted him, to scream at him to hurry and get in. Chuuya got even more irritated by the mumbling that followed, half of it for his boss, the other half for his call. And yetâŠ
   â I donât see why Iâd do anything for this idiot â, were Chuuyaâs last words before curtly hanging up. â I donât owe him anything and Iâve better to do than wasting my time for him. I donât have anything planned for this day but even doing nothing is more interesting than putting up with him. Iâll see. If I want to bump someone off. â
   Once again, Atsushi found himself confronted with the sound signal informing the call had ended without prior warning. Nakahara did sound less⊠aggressive than at the beginning of the conversation. Despite the meaning of his words, he had high hopes. Was his intuition rightâŠ? He hoped so. Really. Otherwise, the whole night would turn into a fiascoâŠ
   After this first tacit victory, though, nothing happened as planned anymore. Dazai decided to appear again three days before his birthday, in one piece. Sources of anxiety kept accumulating starting from then : their purchases - bought with everyoneâs savings, the Agency could not really help them with money - disappeared, the main reason of the party kept coming in without prior warning when they were discussing preparations and how to organize them⊠He even looked like he came out of nowhere, once, while Yosano escorted Atsushi to get some drinks and snacks. The latter was convinced that he would lose a few years of life expectancy in this episodeâŠ
   On June 18th was the climax. Dazai entered the agency in the middle of the morning, opening the door with a wide and dramatic move. Atsushi felt his hair stand on the back of his neck in an absolute warning sign. He exclaimed with a fake solemnity that he had a great announcement to do.
   â Iâm here to bid farewell to you all ! This time, Iâm about to find the woman of my dreams for a perfect shinju ! Well, not like Iâve any râŠ! â
   â Dazai ! â
   Atsushiâs blood boiled. Everyoneâs eyes were suddenly on him.
   â Please come to work tomorrow ! Please ! â
   Those times when Atsushi could actually surprise Dazai were rare. He once even made it his goal. Unfortunately, he could not fully appreciate the way chocolate eyes widened in surprise for a short moment. The expression only fleetingly crossed his face before his features softened back to let a light sigh escape.
   â Very well. If, really, you cannot go without me, Iâll make an effort for you. â
   The corner of his lips tensed in a slight smile.
   â But well, Atsushi⊠Iâm so sorry. I am really not interested in men. â
   Atsushi looked away, unable to choose between feeling embarrassment or dismay.
   Atsushi should not be so nervous for something so trivial. He was. Definitely. He was not Osamu Dazai but he had already thought about dozens of worst-case scenarios involving the party. It could not go well. Why did he even get such idea ? Ah⊠no, no, no. Get a hold of yourself, Atsushi ! Everything will be alright if everyone believes in itâŠ!
   The young man had come earlier than usual to work after he got out of his usual way to stop at a flower shop. The premises were still empty when he entered. Kyouka should not take long to come in, though ; she was also about to depart when he left her. After he carefully hid a perfectly wrapped packet - two hours and nine tries had been needed to do it, and his young roommate had come to his rescue for the last one - in a drawer of his desk, praying every god he could think of for it not to disappear like half of the drinks and the cardboard for ornaments. After some time of thinking it through, he put his bouquet on the desk Dazai was supposed to use. He adjusted the composition a bit - daffodils ending the season and iris, interspersed by a few flowers of vibrant bluebells, enhanced by some ribbons here and there. He trusted the seller entirely for his choice. Dazai had never shown any interest for flowers ; they had felt like a good idea as a first present, before he would give, later in the evening, his actual gift - a book. Atsushi was sure about that one : Dazai liked reading a lot. He had taken a long time examining publications for sale in a small book store sitting close to his home. His choice had eventually inclined towards a collection of short stories. One hundred views on Mount Fuji. His mentor was hard to grasp, he would not have pretended he knew him that well. Yet, this work had immediately felt fitting. He just hoped he had not already read it.
   The front door slid open with a very light noise. He smiled at Kyouka while she closed it as quietly.
   â Youâre the first one to come â, he noticed.
   â Kunikida is here too. â
   â Heâs early too. â
   â Heâs waiting in front of the door. â
   A slight, more bothered than amused, laugh passed through Atsushiâs lips. He checked the clock hanging on the wall. Kunikida would still wait 3 minutes and 36 seconds before turning the handleâŠ
   Dazai only came around 3 in the afternoon, with a wide pout crossing his face and looking particularly bothered from the effort he had to do to reach the agency. As he made his way to âhisâ couch, under Kunikidaâs unbroken flood of blame, Atsushi rushed to his bunch of flowers to hand it to him.
   â Happy birthday, Dazai ! â
   The flowers were stared at from some distance away for a while, with an unreadable but almost suspicious expression. Then Dazaiâs shoulder shook from a silent laugh and he took the gift. The boy could not exactly ignore the feeling of relief spreading in his chest.
   The following hour, however, was only whining and Kunilkidaâs more than irritated comments, getting to the point that no one could really work on any kind of task. Tanizaki, Naomi, and Kenji were luckier : they were on a small business trip with no real consequences for a client. They should not be long to get back, by the way. Atsushi hopped everything would go as planned and there would not be any setback.
   The phone rang. Kunikida, as usual, picked it up. After the first formalities - identity, reason of the call, essential details about the case -, he spent a long time listening to, obviously, some clientâs explanation. When the call ended, he silently stood up and made his way to Fukuzawaâs office, under Dazaiâs suspicious gaze. He came out a few minutes later.
   â Dazai ! Tear off your rear end from this couch and get back to work ! â
   The succession of complaints this sole sentence triggered surprised no one. Kunikida did not let a single one get fully worded and vehemently pushed his partner towards the door. Atsushi could only exchange a quick glance with him and got up from his own seat.
   The door, of the agency, then of the building, closed behind both men. Dazai immediately stopped his lamentations to move on to an amused smile instead :
   â So, then, where were we meant to go oh so suddenly ? â
   Kunikida was about to tell him the exact place ; he remained silent as he turned to the young man and met his gaze. A sigh escaped him.
   â Youâve already figured everything out, havenât you ? ⊠So you were the one who stole Atsushiâs purchases ? â
   â So, how long do we have to stay outside ? â, the young brown haired man asked, obviously avoiding the last question.
   â I figured that, with the time to go there, quickly stop and go back, it would take one hour and forty-two minutes â, his colleague speculated, swiftly browsing his notebook. â Itâs quite far away from here. â
   â Well then, Kunikida, instead of running to some place where no one is waiting for us, and since you wouldnât let me have a drink meanwhile, you could buy me a coffee ? Itâs supposed to be my day, right ? â
   Two hours later - eighteen minutes were lost because of Dazai, who did not find anything better than offering a young waitress to chose her favorite bridge for them to jump from it together, almost crudely -, both partners appeared again in the narrow hall leading to their workplace. Seeing Kunikida hurriedly typing something on his phone, his colleague, uselessly loud, exclaimed that their client had been particularly impolite not waiting for them although they had made the trip for him only. A series of hasty sounds, hurried steps among them, came from behind the door. Eventually, Kunikida put a hand on the handle, glancing one last time at Dazai to show him clearly that his patience was getting to an end and that he would not do that much for him so soon anymore, and finally entered the room, taking a side step so that the main guest could get a good look at the work done while they were away. The way chocolate eyes widened for a quick instant of surprise did not look fake.
   Atsushi really had put his heart and soul into it. The whole thing was a bit precarious, the desks somehow pushed on the sides, a few garlands clumsily hanged up and clearly cheap (the cardboard holding ornaments had suddenly reappeared in the afternoon in Fukuzawaâs office, whereas the latter would have never had the absurd idea of stealing it, and Atsushi would have never dared to hid it there), but the efforts were obvious.
   â Once again, happy birthday, Dazai ! â
   â I hope you havenât already read itâŠÂ â
   â Actually, I did â, he admitted, with a strange smile, softer than what he got those around him used to. â But itâs a nice book. I wouldnât mind reading it again. Thank you, Atsushi. â
   Even someone like Dazai, supposedly, could be delighted about the expression of joy, mixed with relief, which brightened Atsushiâs face at this moment.
   It was however quickly interrupted when a black figure, which did obviously not belong there, but was clearly determined to firmly stay, slightly moved from a less lighted corner looking like it was made just for it. Akutagawaâs dark gray eyes were staring at Dazai with a piercing gaze. The latter looked sideways towards Atsushi, looking clearly disapproving. The boy answered with an apologizing smile. Dazai immediately examined the room, suspicious.
   The first part of the evening went without a problem. Atsushi tried to approach Akutagawa cordially a few times. He kept his distance, scanning Dazaiâs every move. The latter emptied a generous amount of bottles of sake, even though he was significantly helped by Yosano, who quickly became very jollyâŠ
   The door opened abruptly in a relative crash. Silence fell onto them immediately as everyone turned to another black figure, with only fire-like hair and blue eyes on watch standing out. A few minutes passed with no movement.
   â What ? Do you want a photo ? â, Chuuya flung, closing the door behind him without any care for gentleness.
   Atsushi cast a quick glance at Dazai. He had an ostentatious pout on his face. Chuuya, maybe not feeling so at ease, quickly took a look at everyone and stopped at Dazai with a disdainful glare. He walked to him with fast steps and forced what clearly looked like some bottle of alcohol wrapped in gift wrap onto the detectiveâs chest.
   â What is a Mafia hat rack doing here ? â, the young brown haired man let out once he found his breath and grabbed the bottle with a critical look. â And I hope itâs not one of your dated wine inside. â
   â This is not the first time Iâm coming here and anyway, you sneak in our headquarters whenever you feel like it, so I donât see a problem. And about my wines, there is a difference between dated barrels and quality ones, you ignorant idiot ! â
   â Youâre the one with awful tastes, chibi. " Â
  Dazaiâs eyes stopped on a single peach blossom, carefully attached to the wrap with a thin ribbon tied around the bottleneck. He looked up at Chuuya, raising an eyebrow, but it was thoroughly avoided. Conversations echoed back around them as they found a new - more consensual - topic to biker. Dazai unwrapped the gift meanwhile, to find a high-quality bottle of sake. He did not make any comment about it, which clearly pointed out his approval. A very informed eye would have seen him surreptitiously slide the flower in one of his coat pockets. If Atsushi did not see it, watching them interact, he came to the conclusion that his idea had not been so bad. He would have not been able to say why he had this feeling though.
   Maybe was it because, from this moment, Chuuya entirely monopolized Dazaiâs attention. Sure, they only complained about each other. Yosano was interrupting them from time to time with a not so really elegant, loud laugh. The young man with auburn hair looked at her.
   " She looks a bit like Kouyou when sheâs way too drunkâŠÂ â
   â Ugh, Chuuya, you couldâve avoided talking about that. â
   â You wanna talk about you when youâre drunk as fuck ?! â
   â Are you sure you want to get on such a dangerous topic, Chuuya ? I have a lot of compromising files involving Chuuya and alcoholâŠÂ â
   â Hah ?! And what if you shut up for a while so that we can all have five minutesâ peace ?! ⊠Iâm going out for a while before I really make you choke on my hands right here and there ! And none of your buddies here could save you ! â
   â Oh, chibikko is worrying about me now ? I would almost be touched if it didnât come from a midget with such bad tastesâŠÂ â
   Chuuyaâs â go fuck yourself ! â, followed by the slam of the door behind him, actually meant â Iâll be back soon â. No one was surprised when, only five minutes later, Dazai announced he was going to get him. He was so small that some passerby could mistake him for a child stuck on the roof and call the emergency number for nothing. No one thought about asking him how he knew the Mafia executive was on the roof either.
   Chuuya was barely starting on a cigarette, leaning his elbows on the fence separating him from the asphalt of the street, around twenty meters below. He did not react when Dazaiâs footsteps got closer, watching the darkened sky with no stars, his back willingly exposed. He turned his blue eyes to him only when his ex-partner came to lean against the fence too.
   â Iâve never asked you to follow me. â
   â I know. If you had, I wouldnât have come. â
   A grumble answered him. Chuuyaâs gaze turned back to the city spreading in front of them. A simple and calm silence settled for a few minutes. Then Dazaiâs voice broke it gently :
   â Why did you accept Atsushiâs invite ? Itâs quite impressive he could convince you. â
   Chuuya took the time to take a long puff out of his cigarette before starting an answer.
   â I was just curious, to see that someone actually cared that much for you. I wanted to see⊠your new colleagues and allâŠÂ â
   Dazai just looked at him in silence, his face unreadable. Chuuya let him avoid the comment. He knew this face. He knew it hid the will to not let any kind of emotion transpire. It wasnât all that hard to admit he was just a bit thankfulâŠ
   â Besides, Chuuya ! "
  The suddenly joyful tone was rather worrying.
   " Iâm still waiting for your gift ! â
   â Hah ? Iâve already given it to you, moron. â
   â Ah, Chuuya, I wouldâve never thought you were this shy. I even have no choice but take it myself. â
   A flash of understanding crossed Chuuyaâs gaze before Dazai slid one hand on his cheek to bring their faces closer. Surprise first tensed the jaw under his long and thin digits. A breath imitating a sigh gratified the young brown haired man and the jaw slightly rotated so that their lips could perfectly mold together in an innocent kiss. They kept still against each other for some time, just enjoying the softness of the touch. It felt like the traffic had stopped under their feet, the only sounds from the city echoing from far away. A light laugh, lacking any kind of animosity, even betraying longing, made the throat wrapped in a leather choker shake.
   â Youâre horribly sentimental tonight. Itâs disturbing. â
   â Donât worry like that, Chuuya. Itâs just a foretaste for what is coming tonight. You should read it as a signal telling you not to drink too much. When this party is over, Iâm going back with you. â
   Dazaiâs voice gradually got lower, turning into a whisper pleasantly vibrating against the young manâs lips. He let a few of his strands of hair getting gently pushed away by a bandaged hand. Before their lips met for a second time, he opened his to make a quick comment. However, his partner forestalled it :
   â You know my walls are too thin for me to bring you home. â
   Chuuya felt the need to whisper the few letters of â pervert â before kissing him again, even though that allowed his lover to feel his smile which wouldnât erase, nor even fade. They had had a lot of âaccidentsâ since their temporary partnership against Lovecraft and had found themselves in crumpled and soiled sheets of the mafiosoâs bed several times. Their secret encounters had increased after Dostoevskyâs rats appeared in Yokohama. They started to accept it, to discuss without insulting each other, just lying together in bed, just barely a few weeks earlier. Dazai never had demonstrated any form of⊠âromanticismâ. Kissing had only been used for their provoking, sometimes brutal game of seduction. Both pupils encircled with blue tones watched this face, formerly wrapped in bandages, compresses and band-aids. They got briefly covered by two eyelids, in silent admission. This naive boy had managed the achievement of making Dazai feel happy for just one night. Or at least, as happy as Dazai could beâŠ
   Footsteps revealed a third person was coming. Chuuya stepped backward in order to quickly break their embrace. His partner stopped him and put one hand on the back of his head, his fingertips pushing between red strands of hair, against his scalp, as if affectionately massaging it. The movement was meant to be soothing and he got it as a silent âitâs okayâ. So he let Dazai kiss him tenderly as Atsushi froze a few meters away. The gentleness in Dazaiâs eyes when they pulled away was something he had never witnessed before.
   Chuuya finally acknowledged Atsushi's presence. The boy sported two very crimson cheeks. A part of Akutagawaâs coat was pulling at his arm. He probably had advised him not to check if everything was okay on their mentorsâ part while denying him any kind of explanation⊠The were-tiger hastily apologized and stated that they could take as much time as they want, that he was relieved to see everything was going well. A split second later, the soles of his shoes disappeared through the door leading to the last floor of the building.
   When the young man turned back to Dazai, he was smiling tenderly at him. Once again, he could interpret his silence. â Thank you for coming â. He let a small laugh out.
   â You better thank Atsushi properly. â
Dazai connaĂźt tous les mots de passe de toutes les salles communes et il nây a rien Ă faire contre cela. Bien quâil use principalement de cette connaissance pour se glisser dans le dortoir de Chuuya au beau milieu de la nuit.
Thatâs something Iâve wanted to write into a fic for months now but never found the chance to until now. But there suddenly was a rush of Hogwarts AU in Twitter and that got me so inspired-- So, as I still canât right a fic, here are some headcanons for now ! Since there seems to be a big consensus about it, Dazai is a Slytherin and Chuuya a Gryffindor. Also, it would have made more sense if they were in the Japanese wizard school but uh, where is the fun if itâs not Hogwarts ?
Last note : Iâve only read the French translation of the books (so far !), so I might get some names wrong and Iâm sorry if I do.
Actual last note : I might do another set for this AU in the future because it awakens the old Harry Potter fan in me and it gives me so many ideas !
Theyâre definitely known as Hogwartsâ most feared rivals in history. Old rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin is a joke compared to Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya.
Dazai is, of course, a brilliant, but very lazy student. He just has two weaknesses : broomsticks (heâs not good at handling them) and potions (potion classes are mostly a way to find new ways to embrace death...). Also, for those two ones, he might also be a bit... well, clumsy if you look close enough.
Chuuya is a pretty good student too even though, sometimes, the only reason for his hard work is his desire to finally get a better score than Dazai in just one subject.
There is a real problem with Chuuya that no one manages to solve. The problem is not exactly that he is really hot-headed, everyone has their own temperament but... everyone would almost be relieved if he ever caused magical duels, because thatâd mean heâd finally give up on punching and kicking people when he gets into a fight. Wizards fight with their wands, not their fists, canât someone make him understand that ???
Dazai knows every passwords for every common rooms and there is nothing one can do about it. Although he mostly uses this knowledge to snick in Chuuyaâs dormitory in the middle of the night.
Chuuya is, of course, Gryffindorâs Seeker. Heâs so perfectly made for it (well, heâs super flexible and... well... small... so that he can... snake in and out everything... donât tell him though) that he got an exception and could join Gryffindorâs team in first year.
Non-verbal spells are supposed to be taught in sixth year. Dazai could use them by fourth year. Or at least thatâs when people started to notice. Itâs a real problem.
They may know every, or almost every, secret places in Hogwarts. If both Dazai and Chuuya ever come to morning classes with deep dark rings under their eyes, you can be sure theyâve been sneaking in Hogwarts corridors all night long. âBut I thought they hated each other ?â, a naive soul from first year may ask in their first month at Hogwarts.
They both can see Thestrals. No one knows or ever dared to ask exactly the reason why.
Insistent rumors say that Dazai is pretty familiar with dark arts. And that his bandages may hide some... sign of bad âallegianceâ.
Of course Chuuyaâs wand is made of dragon heartstrings.
And, of course, Dazai sleeps with his favorite book titled "The Guide for a Perfect Magical Suicideâ or something along the same lines.
Bonus :
Dazai actually being into some Dark art groups, like Death Eaters or something, and changing sides after Odaâs death anyone ???
And Dazai breaking his wand himself after Odaâs death and getting a new one, its core being a unicorn hair ???
+ One NSFW :
Dazai knows a lot about Hogwarts. More than all of his professors maybe. And heâs quite sure heâs the first Slytherin whoâs ever fucked a Gryffindor in a Gryffindor dormitory on their 7th year. Itâs sad this victory cannot be made public... for now.