A bunch of unrelated fics of SKK.
(Mostly centered around Hurt Chuuya and Comforting/Caring Dazai.)
Total Word Count: 125k+
Note: I take no credits for this fic. Itʼs currently an on-going series on ao3, posted by a friend of mine. Iʼve already ask...
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Summary: Chuuya knew the boss reveled in bending any situation and the thought process of any person to his will.
The redhead was no stranger to his, albeit questionable, methods.
Or: Mori is an asshole, Chuuya is simply trying to do his job, and Dazai is just there to comfort the redhead when the boss of Port Mafia goes a bit too far by digging into Chuuyaʼs insecurities.
Warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Chuuya, Caring Dazai, a drop of Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort.
Word Count: 4,777
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“I think the language of the heart is closeness. It doesnʼt speak until it finds out youʼre not going to be here for long.” — Biru Panda, from Keepers of the Heart.
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It was like any other day for Chuuya.
That did not mean the universe treated him well. Any ‘otherʼ day meant more work thrown onto his shoulders like tonnes of bricks he was forced to carry, all at the same time. He did like his job, of course he did. He was under no delusion, however. Chuuya was aware of the risks and the downsides of his job, of this life he was unwillingly thrust into with no other choice but to bear with it.
One Mori Ougai hadnʼt made it easier for him.
Chuuya was prideful, yes, but also brutally honest with himself. He was completely aware of the fact that despite being a very splendid leader to be able to rule The Port Mafia and protect Yokohama from a lot of the major problems caused by, well, unsavory ability users (most of the times), Mori was also an extremely manipulative person. Chuuya knew the boss reveled in bending any situation and the thought process of any person to his will.
The redhead was no stranger to his, albeit questionable, methods.
The fact proved itself while Chuuya was walking down an alleyway just on the edge of the city. The roads were barren of any people, a few lingering drunks roamed around, but Chuuya wasnʼt particularly worried about them. The alleyway he had taken lead to a shortcut, from where he could easily get to his apartment complex and not worry about getting little to no sleep by using a longer and more time-consuming way.
Once he was halfway down the path, shrouded in darkness with the barest hints of the moonlight shining through the few clouds visible in the sky, a sharp ringing cut through the air, followed by a vibration in his pant pocket. Chuuya blinked awake from the hazed state he was in—the mission was immensely tiring and Chuuya just honestly wanted to get home, shower and flop onto his bed—coming to a stop and digging his phone out of his pocket, he quickly pressed the accept button, seeing the familiar number of his Boss displayed atop the screen.
