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Entry tags:
now give me what is mine
Title: now give me what is mine
Fandom: Bungou to Alchemist
Character(s): Dazai, Chuuya, Oda
Pairing(s): Dazai/Chuuya
Genre: Dark
Word Count: 1,515
Rating: R
Warnings: Attempted non-con
Summary: Distorted gears that amplify emotions, Dazai's desire to be noticed, and Chuuya's weakness.
Notes: happy birthday Dazai, here's a fic that isn't happy for you or for anyone
‘Songs of Past Days’ is the latest book to suddenly start to rapidly corrode, in the line of ‘The Five-Storied Pagoda’ and ‘The Sunless Street’. Chuuya is already in the library, unlike Rohan or Sunao, but even without the potential to completely lose a writer’s soul, it’s an opportunity to further research the nature of the Taints, and no one wants Chuuya’s second book to corrode, least of all Chuuya.
The Taints are numerous, but weak, and so a full team isn’t required to take them out. Chuuya couldn’t do it alone even so, and Dazai volunteers to go with him.
“Collect the distorted gears from the Taints, same as last time,” Chuuya says, a rare look of concentration on his face as he reads his own words, set against the sky. “They’ll be sorry they picked this book.”
Dazai grips his scythe tightly. “I’m right behind you.”
The battles are easy, but the journey is long. Chuuya shows no signs of getting tired or wanting to retreat, and so Dazai continues to follow, reflecting a little on what he knows of the book. There are poems that spoke to him, but more immediately pressing are the circumstances in which it was published.
After one battle, Dazai asks, “Chuuya… This book was published by someone else, so do you think-”
“Hideo’s not here.” Chuuya cuts him off sharply. “He’s a writer in his own right, it doesn’t matter if he put this together after I died. He’s not going to be here.”
Dazai can’t help but be a little annoyed. “It was just a question.” He picks up another gear.
It’s hard to know exactly where the end is, or how many Taints lie between them and their destination. As long as the battles aren’t too challenging, though, it isn’t a problem. More Taints means more distorted gears, which can be studied.
It might have been better to go with someone else, because Dazai finds himself getting more and more irritated at Chuuya. He doesn’t want to talk, and when Dazai tries to make conversation, Chuuya either answers curtly or entirely ignores him. Of course he’s focused, it’s his own book, but it wouldn’t kill him to pay a little attention to Dazai in between fights. He’d rather walk in silence than even acknowledge Dazai’s existence?
Notice me.
“Chuuya,” he starts again. “Do you think we should take a break? We haven’t seen any Taints for a while, it should be safe to sit down for a second…”
Chuuya doesn’t even turn to look at him. He just keeps walking.
Acknowledge me, even if you hate me.
“Seriously, I think we should stop for a little bit, we’ve been fighting for ages.” Dazai reaches out to grab onto Chuuya’s arm.
That, at least, gets Chuuya to turn to glare at him. “Let go. I’ll leave you behind if you’re so tired.”
No matter what it takes, as long as you don’t forget me-
Dazai’s grip tightens on Chuuya’s arm.
It must be painful, he knows. Chuuya’s expression is a grimace of pain and he’s hissing, trying to tug away from him with no success. Dazai should let go.
He doesn’t. He pulls Chuuya closer to him instead, until he can grab onto his other arm with the same vicegrip.
“What the hell are you - let go of me, asshole!” Now Chuuya is struggling in earnest, kicking with all the meager force he can create.
Even though Chuuya’s not very strong, being kicked isn’t fun and Dazai doesn’t want to give him room to do that. So he shoves him into the nearest wall, taking the moment where Chuuya cries out in pain to adjust his grip. Chuuya’s wrists are so small that Dazai can pin both of them to the wall with one hand.
“You should listen to me when I’m trying to help you.” Dazai almost doesn’t recognize his own voice, low and level. “Just taking a break for a minute? How hard would that be? Because I suggested it, you can’t even consider it?”
Chuuya is staring at him with wide eyes. His hands are pinned above his head and there isn’t room between him and Dazai for him to have any striking power. He looks terrified.
Good.
“You only talk to me because you can pick on me, right? Otherwise you’d ignore me. You don’t even really hate me, I’m just an easy target. You don’t care at all. ...But you care now, right?” Even if ‘caring’ isn’t the right word for what has Chuuya trembling in his grip, it’s close enough.
“Let go of me, peach- Dazai.” Chuuya doesn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he usually does. “You’ve made your point already, you can stop.”
Dazai could stop, and maybe even pretend this never happened. He doesn’t want to. He likes Chuuya being scared of him for a change.
“No,” he says.
Chuuya opens his mouth, then shuts it, and turns his head to the side, eyes closed. A stubborn denial - if he can’t fight back then he’ll do everything he can to piss off the person who has power over him. Dazai knows he’s like that.
If he’s looking to anger Dazai, it works. If he’s looking to preserve his own well-being, it’s the worst thing he could possibly do.
The hand that doesn’t have Chuuya’s wrists pinned down yanks Chuuya’s chin to make him face forward and up. Dazai kisses him.
It’s a kiss only by the most general definition of the word, two people’s lips coming into contact. It’s not romantic and barely even sexual. The hard press of his mouth against Chuuya’s that swallows Chuuya’s sound of shock and protest is a demand, ‘don’t you dare look away from me again’ spelled out by Dazai’s tongue forcing its way past Chuuya’s lips.
Chuuya bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood, and Dazai withdraws, smiling because the pain is just proof that he made Chuuya notice him. Still, he doesn’t exactly prefer pain, and it’s easy enough to get a leg in between Chuuya’s thighs and force them apart that he just does that instead.
Chuuya says things like ‘please stop’ and ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘why’ and Dazai commits every word to memory. He’s so focused on Chuuya’s pleas that he almost entirely misses the sound of footsteps behind him.
He does not miss being punched in the back of the head, hard enough to hear something crack. He gets a vague impression of being pulled away, and a figure in black and blue, before he passes out.
The infirmary is quiet.
This wouldn’t seem unusual for the infirmary, except that when Dazai wakes up, Oda is clearly sitting at his bedside, and anytime that Dazai’s been hurt enough for Oda to wait in the infirmary for him to recover, he’s always been greeted by a woop of joy and sometimes by a painfully tight hug.
Oda doesn’t say anything, not even when Dazai sits up. He stares at Dazai, but he doesn’t speak.
“...What happened?” Dazai asks.
“How much do you remember ‘bout yer mission?” Oda asks. His voice is flat.
Dazai’s head still hurts, but he can at least piece together some things. “I was helping Chuuya with purifying his book. It was taking a long time, and I said we should take a break, and… I’m not sure what happened after that.”
“Y’know what you were collecting in there, right?” Oda says.
“Distorted gears.”
“Distorted gears that make yer emotions worse,” Oda says. “If you were fightin’ for a long time, and picked up a lotta gears… Dazai, who was carryin’ all of them?”
“I was,” Dazai says, not sure where this is going. “Chuuya’s not as strong as me, it doesn’t make sense to make him do it.”
Oda looks away. The first emotion creeps into his voice: bitterness. “Yeah, Chuuya ain’t as strong as you, that’s for sure.”
What could possibly have happened in there? He was carrying all those gears, sure, but he was just getting a little annoyed at Chuuya for ignoring him.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t ignore you again, please just stop-
The memories come back all at once, and Dazai could swear his heart stops. It doesn’t really, because he isn’t that lucky.
“I… I couldn’t really have…?”
“Remembered, huh. Ango’s the one who pulled you two out when we got worried ‘bout you takin’ so long, and y’know he wouldn’t make that up.” Oda sighs. “It ain’t like it’s somethin’ you’d do normally, so we’re not gonna throw you in jail or anythin’, but yer not gonna be let in that kinda book again. …prob’ly don’t wanna get near Chuuya for a while.”
Dazai nods, weakly. He wants to say that he’s scum, less than human, but even though that’s all true he doesn’t deserve to try to get any pity right now, not when this is his fault.
“...I’m so sorry.”
Dazai wants nothing more than for Chuuya to never think of him again, now that he’s left a mark that won’t come clean.
Fandom: Bungou to Alchemist
Character(s): Dazai, Chuuya, Oda
Pairing(s): Dazai/Chuuya
Genre: Dark
Word Count: 1,515
Rating: R
Warnings: Attempted non-con
Summary: Distorted gears that amplify emotions, Dazai's desire to be noticed, and Chuuya's weakness.
Notes: happy birthday Dazai, here's a fic that isn't happy for you or for anyone
‘Songs of Past Days’ is the latest book to suddenly start to rapidly corrode, in the line of ‘The Five-Storied Pagoda’ and ‘The Sunless Street’. Chuuya is already in the library, unlike Rohan or Sunao, but even without the potential to completely lose a writer’s soul, it’s an opportunity to further research the nature of the Taints, and no one wants Chuuya’s second book to corrode, least of all Chuuya.
The Taints are numerous, but weak, and so a full team isn’t required to take them out. Chuuya couldn’t do it alone even so, and Dazai volunteers to go with him.
“Collect the distorted gears from the Taints, same as last time,” Chuuya says, a rare look of concentration on his face as he reads his own words, set against the sky. “They’ll be sorry they picked this book.”
Dazai grips his scythe tightly. “I’m right behind you.”
The battles are easy, but the journey is long. Chuuya shows no signs of getting tired or wanting to retreat, and so Dazai continues to follow, reflecting a little on what he knows of the book. There are poems that spoke to him, but more immediately pressing are the circumstances in which it was published.
After one battle, Dazai asks, “Chuuya… This book was published by someone else, so do you think-”
“Hideo’s not here.” Chuuya cuts him off sharply. “He’s a writer in his own right, it doesn’t matter if he put this together after I died. He’s not going to be here.”
Dazai can’t help but be a little annoyed. “It was just a question.” He picks up another gear.
It’s hard to know exactly where the end is, or how many Taints lie between them and their destination. As long as the battles aren’t too challenging, though, it isn’t a problem. More Taints means more distorted gears, which can be studied.
It might have been better to go with someone else, because Dazai finds himself getting more and more irritated at Chuuya. He doesn’t want to talk, and when Dazai tries to make conversation, Chuuya either answers curtly or entirely ignores him. Of course he’s focused, it’s his own book, but it wouldn’t kill him to pay a little attention to Dazai in between fights. He’d rather walk in silence than even acknowledge Dazai’s existence?
Notice me.
“Chuuya,” he starts again. “Do you think we should take a break? We haven’t seen any Taints for a while, it should be safe to sit down for a second…”
Chuuya doesn’t even turn to look at him. He just keeps walking.
Acknowledge me, even if you hate me.
“Seriously, I think we should stop for a little bit, we’ve been fighting for ages.” Dazai reaches out to grab onto Chuuya’s arm.
That, at least, gets Chuuya to turn to glare at him. “Let go. I’ll leave you behind if you’re so tired.”
No matter what it takes, as long as you don’t forget me-
Dazai’s grip tightens on Chuuya’s arm.
It must be painful, he knows. Chuuya’s expression is a grimace of pain and he’s hissing, trying to tug away from him with no success. Dazai should let go.
He doesn’t. He pulls Chuuya closer to him instead, until he can grab onto his other arm with the same vicegrip.
“What the hell are you - let go of me, asshole!” Now Chuuya is struggling in earnest, kicking with all the meager force he can create.
Even though Chuuya’s not very strong, being kicked isn’t fun and Dazai doesn’t want to give him room to do that. So he shoves him into the nearest wall, taking the moment where Chuuya cries out in pain to adjust his grip. Chuuya’s wrists are so small that Dazai can pin both of them to the wall with one hand.
“You should listen to me when I’m trying to help you.” Dazai almost doesn’t recognize his own voice, low and level. “Just taking a break for a minute? How hard would that be? Because I suggested it, you can’t even consider it?”
Chuuya is staring at him with wide eyes. His hands are pinned above his head and there isn’t room between him and Dazai for him to have any striking power. He looks terrified.
Good.
“You only talk to me because you can pick on me, right? Otherwise you’d ignore me. You don’t even really hate me, I’m just an easy target. You don’t care at all. ...But you care now, right?” Even if ‘caring’ isn’t the right word for what has Chuuya trembling in his grip, it’s close enough.
“Let go of me, peach- Dazai.” Chuuya doesn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he usually does. “You’ve made your point already, you can stop.”
Dazai could stop, and maybe even pretend this never happened. He doesn’t want to. He likes Chuuya being scared of him for a change.
“No,” he says.
Chuuya opens his mouth, then shuts it, and turns his head to the side, eyes closed. A stubborn denial - if he can’t fight back then he’ll do everything he can to piss off the person who has power over him. Dazai knows he’s like that.
If he’s looking to anger Dazai, it works. If he’s looking to preserve his own well-being, it’s the worst thing he could possibly do.
The hand that doesn’t have Chuuya’s wrists pinned down yanks Chuuya’s chin to make him face forward and up. Dazai kisses him.
It’s a kiss only by the most general definition of the word, two people’s lips coming into contact. It’s not romantic and barely even sexual. The hard press of his mouth against Chuuya’s that swallows Chuuya’s sound of shock and protest is a demand, ‘don’t you dare look away from me again’ spelled out by Dazai’s tongue forcing its way past Chuuya’s lips.
Chuuya bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood, and Dazai withdraws, smiling because the pain is just proof that he made Chuuya notice him. Still, he doesn’t exactly prefer pain, and it’s easy enough to get a leg in between Chuuya’s thighs and force them apart that he just does that instead.
Chuuya says things like ‘please stop’ and ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘why’ and Dazai commits every word to memory. He’s so focused on Chuuya’s pleas that he almost entirely misses the sound of footsteps behind him.
He does not miss being punched in the back of the head, hard enough to hear something crack. He gets a vague impression of being pulled away, and a figure in black and blue, before he passes out.
The infirmary is quiet.
This wouldn’t seem unusual for the infirmary, except that when Dazai wakes up, Oda is clearly sitting at his bedside, and anytime that Dazai’s been hurt enough for Oda to wait in the infirmary for him to recover, he’s always been greeted by a woop of joy and sometimes by a painfully tight hug.
Oda doesn’t say anything, not even when Dazai sits up. He stares at Dazai, but he doesn’t speak.
“...What happened?” Dazai asks.
“How much do you remember ‘bout yer mission?” Oda asks. His voice is flat.
Dazai’s head still hurts, but he can at least piece together some things. “I was helping Chuuya with purifying his book. It was taking a long time, and I said we should take a break, and… I’m not sure what happened after that.”
“Y’know what you were collecting in there, right?” Oda says.
“Distorted gears.”
“Distorted gears that make yer emotions worse,” Oda says. “If you were fightin’ for a long time, and picked up a lotta gears… Dazai, who was carryin’ all of them?”
“I was,” Dazai says, not sure where this is going. “Chuuya’s not as strong as me, it doesn’t make sense to make him do it.”
Oda looks away. The first emotion creeps into his voice: bitterness. “Yeah, Chuuya ain’t as strong as you, that’s for sure.”
What could possibly have happened in there? He was carrying all those gears, sure, but he was just getting a little annoyed at Chuuya for ignoring him.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t ignore you again, please just stop-
The memories come back all at once, and Dazai could swear his heart stops. It doesn’t really, because he isn’t that lucky.
“I… I couldn’t really have…?”
“Remembered, huh. Ango’s the one who pulled you two out when we got worried ‘bout you takin’ so long, and y’know he wouldn’t make that up.” Oda sighs. “It ain’t like it’s somethin’ you’d do normally, so we’re not gonna throw you in jail or anythin’, but yer not gonna be let in that kinda book again. …prob’ly don’t wanna get near Chuuya for a while.”
Dazai nods, weakly. He wants to say that he’s scum, less than human, but even though that’s all true he doesn’t deserve to try to get any pity right now, not when this is his fault.
“...I’m so sorry.”
Dazai wants nothing more than for Chuuya to never think of him again, now that he’s left a mark that won’t come clean.