Soukoku Fanfic - Tumblr Posts

Nothing on my mind except Chuuya with depression who gets some help from an expert in that field (dazai🙄)

It starts simple. Dazai and Chuuya often meet at an underground bar to have a drink together. It's the one time they can talk to each other peacefully, no need for their constant bickering and attacks, here they can actually be civilized.

Chuuya doesn't notice it at first. All he knows is that as of late, he hasn't really been in the mood. Jobs that he would finish in a heartbeat suddenly become such a burden. Things he used to love like music and wine are all but fuzzy memories, he doesn't feel anything for them now. He's always tired, and he's never tired. Chuuya would never admit when he wants to hit the hay. As long as the boss needed him, he was there.

He comes in late for his and Dazai's biweekly meetings. Dazai can already tell the other is in distress. His once so strong appearance that he accomplished with so much effort seemed improvised, shirt undone by three top buttons, jacket hanging by his arm, no vest, hair in disarray, it was barely like Chuuya anymore.

"What's wrong, Slug? You win a hobo costume contest or something?" Dazai tried to tease, to lighten the mood.

"Shut up, fish for brains, m' not in the mood." Chuuya says begrudgingly as he takes a seat one stool away from Dazai, like he always did.

"Oh? Do tell," Dazai slid a glass of shiny brown liquid and three floating ice cubes to his ex partner, who took it without a word.

"None of your goddamn business, Mackerel." Chuuya was grumpy, cranky even, at Dazai's poor attempt at comforting him.

"Aw, c'mon, Chuu! This is Lupin we're in! What's the point of this place still standing if we don't share anything and everything in it?"

Chuuya sighed a short "fine" and opened up.

"I've just been so tired lately." He said.

"Oh? Mori giving you trouble?"

"Nah, the workload's just as much as before, I checked. It just...feels like more than I can carry, y'know?"

"Well, maybe you should take a break," Dazai said in a cheerful tone. "I know a couple of islands you could visit for a vacation. They've got wine and music and probably some tacky hats if you feel like i-"

"That's the thing, I'm not in the mood to take a break. Or do the things I want. They just....don't seem that appealing anymore. And even if I do take some time off, what if the boss needs me? I can't just let go of that responsibility."

By now Chuuya has had one too many drinks than he can handle in this state, and by that I mean he's only had one, the one Dazai gave him. Already he was looking even worse. Dazai figured it was time for him to go home.

Usually when Chuuya was drunk and Dazai was the poor soul who had to take him home to safety, he would be met with countless insults and "I'm not drunk"s or "one last drink"s. But this time, Chuuya didn't resist a bit. He groggily got off the stool, greeted the bartender, took his coat and walked out silently with Dazai. It's a feeling the latter definitely wasn't used to.

They got to Chuuya's apartment, a luxurious suite at the top of a 30+ story condo that had a bigger bedroom than Dazai's entire home, and the brunette laid his friend down on the couch. Once he knew he was comfortable he slid down to sit on the floor with his back leaning on the couch, staying close to watch his friend. It wasn't the first time he'd done this, and it won't be the last.

"Dazai?"

"Yeah?"

"You get feelings like this too, right?"

"All the time, buddy. Why?"

"I was worried about that. Do you...have any tips on...how to deal with it?"

Dazai paused for a second.

"Have you thought about just...not dealing with it?"

"Can't afford to do that."

"Why not?"

"Well, unlike you, some of us are actually competent assets to our jobs. If I go down the entire Port Mafia will go down too."

"That's not your responsibility."

"It was when you left."

Another long pause. Chuuya was a little out of it, but even he could tell it was too quiet in there.

The silence was so long Chuuya's eyes started to get heavier. His long lashes would flutter up and down as he tried to remain awake. He didn't know why, there was no reason for him to stay away that night...right?

Dazai felt the change in Chuuya's atmosphere even while looking away. As he turned around he saw Chuuya's cute little eyelids flutter like butterflies and his bright blue pupils softening towards slumber.

"Are you going to sleep? Because I can leave if you want." Dazai was quick to get back up on his feet and make his way to the door. However he wasn't quick enough for something to not catch him by the tail of his coat.

"Wait," came a voice. Dazai looked behind him. Chuuya had pulled himself out of the couch just to reach him. His hand gripped on lightly to his coat yet it was probably all the strength he could muster.

"Could you...stay here for a little while?" He asked bashfully. They weren't little kids anymore, asking a guy to stay the night means something now.

Dazai's face went from confused to soft and reassuring. "Sure, Shrimp." He said as he made his way back to the couch. "Since Chuuya needs me so much, I guess I can stay."

"All I need you for is to repel any mice or rats that come in here. Your fishy scent will drive them away."

"Oh my! How hurtful! You've really done it now, Chuuya, I'm devastated!"

"Shut up..."

Neither of them know how it happened, but soon enough the two were asleep. Chuuya on the couch, stomach down and face to the side in case he needed to vomit (he didn't) with a hand reaching out. And Dazai leaning against the arm rest of the couch, also slightly on his side, hand almost touching Chuuya's.

unfinished soukoku oneshot :) (let me know if i should finish it lol)

1.4k words, hurt/comfort, touch starvation + touch aversion “What the hell did you do?” The redhead snapped, finding himself frustratingly frozen in place.  Despite their mask, the assassin seemed to smirk. “It takes a bit to set in. Don’t let anyone touch you, unless you want to have even more blood on your hands.” Panic and confusion took twin positions in the forefront of Chuuya’s mind. “The hell does that mean, you crazy bastard?” Their smirk widened, hand slipping off of Chuuya’s wrist. “Don’t worry, you’ll survive it. I’ll let you put the rest together.” or, Chuuya gets hit by an ability that will kill anyone who touches him. This isn't a problem until a mission requires Corruption.

It all began on a joint mission between the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency.

Of course, it was Chuuya and Dazai who were selected for the task. It seemed like the universe, and the people at their respective organizations seemed outright determined to place the two in close proximity whenever possible.

Most times, they both played up a practiced annoyance at having to even set eyes on one another, sending harsh quips back and forth in a public and dramatic fashion. It felt normal to the both of them, in a way that nothing else had in a long time. 

The mission was excruciatingly simple. Perhaps that is what makes how desperately wrong it went all the more difficult to comprehend.

Everything was going smoothly, between the lack of any alarms being raised and a successful kidnapping of a certain powerful figure-- there was even a clear escape route. Until, of course, Dazai decided to peek around the man’s office.

“Idiot!” Chuuya had stage-whispered, still occupied with keeping their target from trying to escape. “We need to get going, there’s no time for your stupid ass to go snooping.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dazai replied, languidly coming to rest his arm on the desk and leaning over with a taunting smirk. “You’re almost as particular with your plans as Kunikida.”

For some reason, Chuuya had gripped harder onto the arm of the man they were intending to kidnap, enough to make him let out a muffled cry of pain into the duct tape over his mouth.

“Let’s just go,” The redhead had ground out through his teeth. “Come on, bastard. I’m sure you can handle not being a selfish ass one damn time.” 

Not sensing the change in Chuuya’s demeanor, or perhaps just choosing to ignore it altogether, Dazai had continued a lazy stroll around the office, pulling file cabinets open and leafing absently through the papers held within them. 

“We have plenty of time,” The detective had said, waving a hand at Chuuya in a gesture that could only be described as dismissive. “Feel free to go on without me, now that the mission’s completed. I’ll go back to the Agency later.”

Without thinking, Chuuya had scoffed aloud. When he spoke, it was as though his every word were a blade dipped in venom. “Great to know you’re still the same old Dazai.”

The words themselves wouldn’t have been enough to give the brunette even a moment of pause. No, it wasn’t until the end of the sentence that Dazai even really registered what his former partner was saying. Something in the way the redhead said Dazai’s name like it was a curse, like it was something that disgusted him to even say, had set something heavy with hurt and anger in Dazai’s chest.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Dazai had straightened, setting the papers down and taking a step towards where Chuuya was by the window.

Chuuya, being fractionally more insightful than Dazai, had realized that somewhere along the course of the conversation, their mostly-playful bickering had dissolved into something more serious, something harsh and angry that they hadn’t fallen into since Dazai had left the Port Mafia.

That didn’t mean he was going to stop.

“It means,” He said through gritted teeth. “That even though you’ve run off to play pretend and try to be the ‘good guy,’ you’re still the same exact asshole that I knew.”

Dazai’s gaze sharpened, and if it were directed at anyone other than Chuuya, it would have struck a lightning bolt of fear through whoever was unfortunate enough to be met with it. 

That won’t work on me, dumbass, Chuuya thought, but did not say. Nothing you can threaten me with will ever hurt more than when you left.

“Why are you doing this?” The brunette asked, not quite hiding the way his fists clenched in his jacket pockets.

Because I want to hear you talk again. Even if it’s to shout at me and call me a hundred terrible things, I would tear the world down to hear your voice for just a moment longer.

“Just trying to make you pause and actually look at yourself for a minute,” Chuuya says instead, forgetting all about the hostage and the mission and any semblance of discretion. “Making sure you’re not deluding yourself into thinking you’ve changed even a little bit.”

A stab of something pierces Chuuya’s chest at the way Dazai’s expression shuts down, the way the angry light behind his eyes falls further and further away, growing colder and duller until it’s gone.

And suddenly, Chuuya is faced with the same dead eyes that Dazai had worn every day of his life when he was still with the Port Mafia.

In truth, the redhead had been painfully aware of how much Dazai had changed since joining the Armed Detective Agency. How he had been more lively, easier to talk to, and seemed to maybe have a trace of happiness behind the cold shell Chuuya had always known the brunette to be.

It wasn’t until all that was gone in an instant that Dazai’s former partner realized just how much had changed. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Dazai said. Not an accusation, nor a question. More of an observation, something forged in neutrality and designed to pierce Chuuya’s heart.

I did this. He realized, all notions of continuing this argument leaving his mind at once. 

“Maybe I am.” The words tasted like poison on his tongue, coppery like the nail he felt himself hammering into the coffin where their partnership rested. 

Dazai nodded, and that was when all hell broke loose.

All at once, the hostage had taken advantage of Chuuya’s brief moment of vulnerability to wrench himself from the man’s strong grip, rolling onto the floor and making his way under the desk. On instinct, Chuuya lunged for him, only to find himself stopped by a harsh, unforgiving hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling him back.

His mouth opened to snap at Dazai, because who else would dare distract him from their mission? The word died in his throat when he was met with a masked face disconcertingly close to his.

“Who the fuck are you?” Chuuya gritted out, trying futilely to wrench his wrist out of their grip. 

After a tilt of their head, they whispered a few words that were muffled by their mask, and suddenly an overwhelming dread whited out Chuuya’s mind.

“What the hell did you do?” The redhead snapped, finding himself frustratingly frozen in place. 

Despite their mask, the assassin seemed to smirk. “It takes a bit to set in. Don’t let anyone touch you, unless you want to have even more blood on your hands.”

Panic and confusion took twin positions in the forefront of Chuuya’s mind. “The hell does that mean, you crazy bastard?”

Their smirk widened, hand slipping off of Chuuya’s wrist. “Don’t worry, you’ll survive it. I’ll let you put the rest together.”

Chuuya still couldn’t move.

…

When next he came to, it was to the familiar feeling of being in a moving car. His eyes fluttered open slowly, lightheadedness bringing a strange cotton-like feeling to his mind. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Dazai’s voice came floating through the car, barely loud enough for Chuuya to even comprehend. “Care to explain what happened in there?”

“Not r’ly.” The redhead muttered, curling himself towards the window.  

“Not an option.” Dazai shot back.

Why is he pushing this? Chuuya thought miserably, head pounding as he pressed his temple against the window. 

“Because,” Come the answer, and oh, Chuuya said that out loud. “You froze up when that assassin got you, and promptly passed out as soon as they left.”

Before the redhead can even attempt to formulate an answer, the detective cuts him off. 

“And every time I tried to carry you out, you flinched and started pleading that I don’t touch you.”

Fuck. There went Chuuya’s chances of hiding this particular incident.

“Explain.” Dazai’s tone left no room for argument.

“Fucker hit me with ‘n ab’lity,” The redhead tried to explain with his leaden tongue.”Said nob’dy could touch me.”

There was a pause. “And you just took their word for it?”

“F’ck off, Dazai,” Chuuya really didn’t have the energy to deal with his former partner being disappointed in him. “No point risk’ng it.”

There was a pause, and for a moment Chuuya let himself believe that maybe Dazai had actually respected his judgment and let something go for once.

“I’ll research abilities that have restrictions on touch,” Is what the detective says when he eventually does speak. “We’ll get you out of this, Chuuya.”

Chuuya doesn’t think he’s being too delusional when he hears a promise woven into the words.