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Entry tags:
dream of happiness
Title: dream of happiness
Fandom: Bungou to Alchemist
Character(s): Chuuya, Dazai
Pairing(s): Dazai/Chuuya
Genre: Smut/Angst
Word Count: 1,290
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Chuuya finds Dazai in a white book and decides to enjoy the illusion of someone caring about him.
Notes: Discord said I should.
When one of the strange white books shows up in the erotic literature section, the first team sent there is on guard. On the one hand, it could be fine - they could avoid the sexual part of the plot completely and have a perfectly normal delve. On the other hand, there could be tentacles.
Chuuya’s on guard more than anyone. He’s the smallest in the party and he knows how porn works. If he gets involved at all, it will be unpleasant.
The setting doesn’t immediately instill him with fear - for the most part, it just looks like a normal Tokyo evening, a street full of businesses with flashing lights and cars passing by. The Taints are new, and it’s a pain to try to fight them without getting hit by a car, but they’ve dealt with worse.
A flash of red and gold catches Chuuya’s eye, followed by the frantic motion of Dazai waving an arm and trying to get his attention. He’s dressed more casually, but “Dazai casual”, which means he probably spent an hour coordinating his outfit to look better than anyone else on the street.
Chuuya looks back to his teammates. Shiga and Arishima are cleaning up the remaining Taints and Kunikida is providing ranged cover, so it’s not a big deal if he goes to see what the hell book-Dazai wants. He might give important info, right? Right.
He’s not expecting Dazai to grab his hand once he gets in reach. He’s definitely not expecting him to start dragging Chuuya down the street. He tries digging in his heels, which works basically not at all. “Hey, what the hell-”
“That’s what I should be asking you!” Dazai doesn’t look back, but the quiver in his voice is obvious. “Disappearing to go walking outside this late at night, are you trying to get hurt? Or worse?!”
It takes a moment for Chuuya to process that - oh. He’s worried. He’s worried about Chuuya.
That’s so strange that Chuuya can’t put up any further resistance.
Dazai pulls him into an apartment building and up the elevator to the fifth floor. Even when he has to pull his keys out to unlock his door, he doesn’t let go of Chuuya’s hand. Only when they’re inside and the door is locked does he finally let go of Chuuya.
It’s too awkward to look at Dazai, so Chuuya scans the room instead.
It’s… a twenty-first century apartment. There isn’t anything immediately noteworthy about it at first glance. It’s small and somewhat messy, with dishes still in the sink and two chairs pulled out at the table. Books are everywhere, some with actual bookmarks inside and some with napkins to fill the role.
Dazai and Chuuya’s apartment.
“I’m sorry for panicking.” Dazai’s voice, hesitant, gets Chuuya’s attention again. “I know you hate being cooped up, it’s just… It’s not safe to go out by yourself at night. Wake me up to come with you if you’re going to leave, that’s better than… If anything happened to you, I - I don’t know what I’d do.”
He isn’t looking at Chuuya, but Chuuya’s heard the hint of tears in his voice often enough to recognize it without visual cues. Normally, Chuuya would laugh. Normally, Chuuya would tell Dazai that he’s better off worrying about himself. Normally, Chuuya would reject even the slightest concern.
But this isn’t a real person, he reminds himself. It’s not Dazai, as much as it looks and sounds like him. No real person will ever know if he tries to show a softer side, and no one will ever be able to hurt him for it.
“…Sorry.” The word is unfamiliar, uncomfortable in Chuuya’s throat. “I’ll try and stop worrying you.” His stay in this book is temporary, so he can at least promise that much.
The surprise on Dazai’s face would fit perfectly on the real one’s - Chuuya thinks he’d make that same wide-eyed expression if he were ever nice to him. Putting that face on him… really doesn’t feel bad.
Then Dazai leans down for a kiss, and it’s Chuuya’s turn to be surprised.
It doesn’t feel bad. Dazai is warm and sweet and every kind of adoring that can be communicated with a touch of lips to lips. Chuuya freezes up for a second before melting into the kiss.
No real person will ever know. The real Dazai won’t know how many times Chuuya has thought of embracing him like this, wrapped up and protected in Dazai’s arms - and it’s better that he doesn’t. The real Dazai wouldn’t kiss him. The real Chuuya will never face that inevitable rejection.
Dazai murmurs sweet words against Chuuya’s lips, ears, neck. “I’ll keep you safe.” “I won’t ever leave you.” “I love you.” Every word makes Chuuya shiver, reaching somewhere painful he’d locked away and aching all the more for being fake, unable to fill the space. But they can try. He can try.
He recognizes when Dazai lifts him up, and when he’s lowered gently onto their - the mattress, though the steps in between are made blurry by Dazai’s continued kisses. He means to get Dazai back, turn him into a mess - turning Dazai into a mess is what he’s good at, even if it isn’t this kind - but it’s hard to pull himself away from Dazai’s gentle touch.
Just a little bit more, Chuuya tells himself. Dazai undresses him slowly and worships his skin with fingers and lips as if they had the rest of their lives together. Chuuya knows that’s not true, but he’s in no hurry to return either. He’ll let Dazai do a little more of this before getting on with the important part.
“You’re so beautiful,” Dazai murmurs against Chuuya’s thigh. Chuuya wishes he had a way to record this encounter, if only because he won’t hear those words again once he leaves this book. All he can do is enjoy each moment now.
Time loses meaning. Chuuya has a vague awareness of being prepared, that Dazai’s fingers are slender and clever as always, and he feels it when Dazai pushes inside him slowly, careful not to hurt him even when he’s given all that Chuuya can take - but every physical sensation seems secondary to this feeling of being adored. Being loved.
He doesn’t notice that he’s crying until Dazai wipes his tears away. Chuuya scowls weakly, bats Dazai’s hand out of his face. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Whatever you say.”
He expects Dazai to speed up, sooner or later. He expects to be fucked hard and fast, even with Dazai’s obvious care for him. He doesn’t know what to do with slow and careful, with a rhythm that trades speed for depth and precision. Once Dazai finds the spot that makes Chuuya cry out Dazai’s name, he doesn’t leave it alone.
Chuuya pulls Dazai down by the back of his neck to kiss him. Even that is sweeter than he thought he knew how to kiss. Not that he’s good for much thinking, now, unless it’s about the warmth that fills his whole body. It starts from his core and radiates outward, all the way to his lips and to words he’ll never admit to saying.
“I love--!”
That’s already too much.
Afterward, Chuuya catches his breath. Dazai has flopped on top of him, nuzzling into his shoulder. He’s wet and sticky, neither of which will help when it comes to returning to the other authors and pretending nothing happened. He’ll have to find a decent excuse for why he was gone, not to mention find them in the first place.
He can’t feel anything other than content.
What is the point of a fantasy if you don’t enjoy it?
Fandom: Bungou to Alchemist
Character(s): Chuuya, Dazai
Pairing(s): Dazai/Chuuya
Genre: Smut/Angst
Word Count: 1,290
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Chuuya finds Dazai in a white book and decides to enjoy the illusion of someone caring about him.
Notes: Discord said I should.
When one of the strange white books shows up in the erotic literature section, the first team sent there is on guard. On the one hand, it could be fine - they could avoid the sexual part of the plot completely and have a perfectly normal delve. On the other hand, there could be tentacles.
Chuuya’s on guard more than anyone. He’s the smallest in the party and he knows how porn works. If he gets involved at all, it will be unpleasant.
The setting doesn’t immediately instill him with fear - for the most part, it just looks like a normal Tokyo evening, a street full of businesses with flashing lights and cars passing by. The Taints are new, and it’s a pain to try to fight them without getting hit by a car, but they’ve dealt with worse.
A flash of red and gold catches Chuuya’s eye, followed by the frantic motion of Dazai waving an arm and trying to get his attention. He’s dressed more casually, but “Dazai casual”, which means he probably spent an hour coordinating his outfit to look better than anyone else on the street.
Chuuya looks back to his teammates. Shiga and Arishima are cleaning up the remaining Taints and Kunikida is providing ranged cover, so it’s not a big deal if he goes to see what the hell book-Dazai wants. He might give important info, right? Right.
He’s not expecting Dazai to grab his hand once he gets in reach. He’s definitely not expecting him to start dragging Chuuya down the street. He tries digging in his heels, which works basically not at all. “Hey, what the hell-”
“That’s what I should be asking you!” Dazai doesn’t look back, but the quiver in his voice is obvious. “Disappearing to go walking outside this late at night, are you trying to get hurt? Or worse?!”
It takes a moment for Chuuya to process that - oh. He’s worried. He’s worried about Chuuya.
That’s so strange that Chuuya can’t put up any further resistance.
Dazai pulls him into an apartment building and up the elevator to the fifth floor. Even when he has to pull his keys out to unlock his door, he doesn’t let go of Chuuya’s hand. Only when they’re inside and the door is locked does he finally let go of Chuuya.
It’s too awkward to look at Dazai, so Chuuya scans the room instead.
It’s… a twenty-first century apartment. There isn’t anything immediately noteworthy about it at first glance. It’s small and somewhat messy, with dishes still in the sink and two chairs pulled out at the table. Books are everywhere, some with actual bookmarks inside and some with napkins to fill the role.
Dazai and Chuuya’s apartment.
“I’m sorry for panicking.” Dazai’s voice, hesitant, gets Chuuya’s attention again. “I know you hate being cooped up, it’s just… It’s not safe to go out by yourself at night. Wake me up to come with you if you’re going to leave, that’s better than… If anything happened to you, I - I don’t know what I’d do.”
He isn’t looking at Chuuya, but Chuuya’s heard the hint of tears in his voice often enough to recognize it without visual cues. Normally, Chuuya would laugh. Normally, Chuuya would tell Dazai that he’s better off worrying about himself. Normally, Chuuya would reject even the slightest concern.
But this isn’t a real person, he reminds himself. It’s not Dazai, as much as it looks and sounds like him. No real person will ever know if he tries to show a softer side, and no one will ever be able to hurt him for it.
“…Sorry.” The word is unfamiliar, uncomfortable in Chuuya’s throat. “I’ll try and stop worrying you.” His stay in this book is temporary, so he can at least promise that much.
The surprise on Dazai’s face would fit perfectly on the real one’s - Chuuya thinks he’d make that same wide-eyed expression if he were ever nice to him. Putting that face on him… really doesn’t feel bad.
Then Dazai leans down for a kiss, and it’s Chuuya’s turn to be surprised.
It doesn’t feel bad. Dazai is warm and sweet and every kind of adoring that can be communicated with a touch of lips to lips. Chuuya freezes up for a second before melting into the kiss.
No real person will ever know. The real Dazai won’t know how many times Chuuya has thought of embracing him like this, wrapped up and protected in Dazai’s arms - and it’s better that he doesn’t. The real Dazai wouldn’t kiss him. The real Chuuya will never face that inevitable rejection.
Dazai murmurs sweet words against Chuuya’s lips, ears, neck. “I’ll keep you safe.” “I won’t ever leave you.” “I love you.” Every word makes Chuuya shiver, reaching somewhere painful he’d locked away and aching all the more for being fake, unable to fill the space. But they can try. He can try.
He recognizes when Dazai lifts him up, and when he’s lowered gently onto their - the mattress, though the steps in between are made blurry by Dazai’s continued kisses. He means to get Dazai back, turn him into a mess - turning Dazai into a mess is what he’s good at, even if it isn’t this kind - but it’s hard to pull himself away from Dazai’s gentle touch.
Just a little bit more, Chuuya tells himself. Dazai undresses him slowly and worships his skin with fingers and lips as if they had the rest of their lives together. Chuuya knows that’s not true, but he’s in no hurry to return either. He’ll let Dazai do a little more of this before getting on with the important part.
“You’re so beautiful,” Dazai murmurs against Chuuya’s thigh. Chuuya wishes he had a way to record this encounter, if only because he won’t hear those words again once he leaves this book. All he can do is enjoy each moment now.
Time loses meaning. Chuuya has a vague awareness of being prepared, that Dazai’s fingers are slender and clever as always, and he feels it when Dazai pushes inside him slowly, careful not to hurt him even when he’s given all that Chuuya can take - but every physical sensation seems secondary to this feeling of being adored. Being loved.
He doesn’t notice that he’s crying until Dazai wipes his tears away. Chuuya scowls weakly, bats Dazai’s hand out of his face. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Whatever you say.”
He expects Dazai to speed up, sooner or later. He expects to be fucked hard and fast, even with Dazai’s obvious care for him. He doesn’t know what to do with slow and careful, with a rhythm that trades speed for depth and precision. Once Dazai finds the spot that makes Chuuya cry out Dazai’s name, he doesn’t leave it alone.
Chuuya pulls Dazai down by the back of his neck to kiss him. Even that is sweeter than he thought he knew how to kiss. Not that he’s good for much thinking, now, unless it’s about the warmth that fills his whole body. It starts from his core and radiates outward, all the way to his lips and to words he’ll never admit to saying.
“I love--!”
That’s already too much.
Afterward, Chuuya catches his breath. Dazai has flopped on top of him, nuzzling into his shoulder. He’s wet and sticky, neither of which will help when it comes to returning to the other authors and pretending nothing happened. He’ll have to find a decent excuse for why he was gone, not to mention find them in the first place.
He can’t feel anything other than content.
What is the point of a fantasy if you don’t enjoy it?