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 had been there, every pulsing moment of tension, every gravity-defying rescue; all of it had been worth it—until it wasn’t.
He lay still, the chill of reality leaving his heart feeling hollow. His powers, once the cornerstone of his identity, now felt like a cruel joke, lingering like an echo in an empty chamber. What was life if he couldn’t protect those still fighting?
What was left for him?
Or: Suffering from career-ending internal injuries after dealing with Lovecraft, Chuuya has to carefully navigate around his life while limiting the use of his Ability. Except, when the Dragon’s Head Conflict arises again, Chuuya is forced to make the choice between choosing either himself or his beloved city that he calls home.
W
arnings: READ THE WARNINGS CAREFULLY!! TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of severe (internal injuries), BLOOD and Injury, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS & ALCOHOL ABUSE/ALCOHOLISM!! HEAVY angst!!! Kindly, refrain from reading if any of this is triggering.MORIOUGAI IS HIS OWN WARNING!Hurt Nakahara Chuuya, Major Injury, Crying, Nakahara Chuuya needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Soukoku, Angst with a Happy Ending.
Word Count:21,473
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“You’re dying.”
Chuuya almost laughed at the words he heard, completely in disbelief. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the room, forcing him to question the reality he found himself in. He stared at the doctor with half-hearted defiance, each breath straining against the heavy quilted linens beneath him. Having relied on his gravity-manipulation alone for four long years now, it felt surreal to hear a proclamation that carried finality—an end he hadn’t prepared for.
“Your body will experience organ failure if you continue to use your Ability,” The doctor continued, her voice flat, devoid of pity.
Chuuya lingered over her words, feeling their weight, akin to his own powers pressing down on him. For years, he had learned to twist and mold the existence around him, lifting burdens and shifting consequences, but clearly, he could not break the gravitational pull of mortality. Across from him, the room was dimly lit, the faint humming of machines the only sound accompanying his thoughts. Chuuya clutched the bed’s edge, heart racing as despair seeped into his bones.
The doctor laid the grim report on the table before him, “You need rest. No more Ability use. No stress.”
