The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Against Better Judgement

Mar
23

“I’m not (more…)

Mismatched Expectations

Mar
21

Chuuya had been worried about the whole biological process of kemmer (more…)

End of the World

Mar
19

The last time Dazai kisses Chuuya is at the end of the world, Corruption unleashed in all its power, Chuuya’s head thrown back in laughter. Red light paints Yokohama with destructive glow.

It’s beautiful, terrifying, perfect—a double suicide neither of them had planned but neither regret.

Because destruction can save, and they’re stopping the end of the world. This is for everyone else, one last sacrifice.

The last moments are theirs, Dazai tasting the blood of Corruption in his mouth as he holds Chuuya and sees the light in his eyes one last time before everything crumbles to dust.

Live

Mar
13

Live.

The refrain that binds them together, that tears them apart.

Live. You’re you.

People live to save themselves.

You started to want to live.

Born together in a day, in a single battle, reborn in another, in a single night.

Why couldn’t you live with me? Chuuya almost wonders. They’d been equals. They’d never made each other dependent. They’d never given the other unease and betrayal. Why, Dazai?

Not that he wanted him close, wanted him near, not that he wants him close now. But he looks in the eyes of his one-time partner grimly, the old words hanging, “We should just give up and die.” So cheerful, so fascinated still by the end of life. And yet, this closeness to death, wasn’t that Dazai’s way of living? Why would he go elsewhere to find it?

“Whenever you say something like that, like I really had a choice.”

You’re not going to die here.

Live!

Never Admit a Thing

Mar
09

Dazai really didn’t like Chuuya’s taste in clothes, alcoholic drinks, or battle tactics. Riling him up was fun, but working with him—no matter how well they did it—was not fun.

So he told Chuuya that, salvaging whatever he could out of the situation by prodding at Chuuya’s pathetically, entertainingly short temper, and Chuuya was justified in believing every word out of Dazai’s mouth about hating him.

(He did hate him. He did.)

But Chuuya would never know, Mori would never know, even Ranpo would never, ever know that Dazai loved him just as much as he hated him.

Simple Pleasures

Mar
09

Simple pleasure, taken in a night, left behind in the morning.

Dazai isn’t immune to pleasure, and he sees no reason to deny himself a night of soft, warm woman and beauty that doesn’t inspire him to pursue something that lasts.

Things that last are delicate. Things that last are prone to breakage and loss, pain piling upon pain, suffering piling upon suffering. Family gone, innocence broken, his only friend dead, and his partner something he won’t even reach for when he comes with a blaring bullseye in the middle of his Ability and an expiration on his life.

Fleeting.

On the Matter of Clothes

Mar
07

“I hate everything about you. Your hair. Your clothes.

Chuuya could almost believe it with how intent Dazai was on getting those clothes off him. A glove on the floor, thrown with venom. The jacket. The cardigan. The shirt. As if each item had personally offended him. Chuuya hadn’t let him remove the hat and now was glad of it.

Dazai’s fingers lingered against the choker, and Chuuya shot him a skeptical look when he left it.

“Everything?” he asked, finding a reason to grin smugly.

Dazai huffed with that disgusted look he reserved for Chuuya. “Everything.”

The choker stayed.

Heat

Mar
07

Neither were ever going to admit they’d wanted this, Chuuya’s teeth ripping through bandages and Dazai’s nimble fingers stripping off every single piece of clothing he hated. They buried hands into each other’s hair, Chuuya might have put some effort into tearing it right off Dazai’s scalp, and let the intensity of their combined heats drive them to do things no one should have to with someone they hated.

“I hate you,” Dazai whispered like an endearment.

“Shut up,” Chuuya hissed back, but didn’t stop touching.

It’s not like there was anyone else they could be this vulnerable with. Partners.

More than a Warm Body

Mar
07

“Chuuya.” Dazai’s voice was warm and husky, the syllables of his name curling around him like a tangible thing. Dazai’s mouth was on his neck, even warmer, and Chuuya wasn’t exactly trying to free himself from being backed up against a wall.

But this wasn’t what he wanted. It’s what he told himself as Dazai kissed him, reminded his body despite times he’d imagined things like this. His partner didn’t actually care about Chuuya, and Chuuya wanted more than a warm body and mock intimacy.

“No.”

He pushed back.

Dazai blinked at him, surprise slowly filtering through the lust.

“No.”

Early to Bed

Mar
07

“Dammit, Dazai, you are nothing but skin and bones!” Chuuya complained as he shoved his extremely bony elbow into Dazai’s side to shove him over some.

“Chuuya!” Dazai ignored the hypocritically bony elbow in his gut and wrapped his arms around his short, hot-tempered partner. If he was getting shoved to the floor, he was taking Chuuya with him.

It was a brief struggle, which Chuuya normally might have won, but somehow he ended up flushed red and under Dazai.

“Stop hugging me, you bandaged octopus bastard!” Chuuya muttered.

“I think I’ll sleep here,” Dazai disagreed to Chuuya’s futile sputtering.

Denial

Mar
05

“Early stages,” the doctor went on and Chuuya barely heard him, still stuck on such completely unexpected results.

It was his second annual hanahaki screening. Kouyou had insisted from the time he hit puberty that he use a fake identity and show up dutifully at the hospital a city over to get them.

He also wasn’t in love.

“There isn’t anyone,” he cut impatiently into the doctor’s rambling. “I’m not in love with anyone.”

The doctor blinked. “Well, you’re a teenager. It may be puppy love and go away.”

“Familial love?” he asked hopefully. Maybe it was Kouyou.

But no.

A Fishy Proposition

Mar
05

“So what kind of fish are you?” Dazai asked skeptically.

Chuuya shot him a rude glare and a ruder gesture. “I’m not a fucking fish, mackerel.”

Dazai’s eyes widened. “Could you? Fuck me, that is?”

The look on Chuuya’s face was priceless, clearly torn between killing Dazai on the spot and his stated desire to never give Dazai what he wanted. “No,” he finally settled for saying.

But his face was a little red. Was he angry or— “Did I make you blush?” Dazai asked leaning in.

Chuuya pulled him into the water with a splash. “I’m not fucking you.”

Comfort Care

Feb
23

Chuuya always assumed the reason Dazai was an attention whore was because Dazai was one of those people who needed to be fussed over whenever he was hurt.

Which made it annoying when Dazai insisted on treating Chuuya like he needed to be fussed over and comforted in the aftermath of Corruption.

“Go away.”

“What if you died in here?”

He didn’t need Dazai bringing him food, checking his bandages, not when Chuuya itched to do the same for the guy with nothing worse than a broken leg. He hated Dazai, so he resisted.

Dazai petted Chuuya’s hair.

Chuuya groaned.

Disbelief

Feb
21

“I love you.” The words were spoken hesitantly enough, slow and thoughtful, with that gleam in Dazai’s eyes that meant he found them just as strange as his hearer did.

That didn’t make his hearer believe them.

Chuuya stared at him, eyes hard, heart full of doubt. “Did you ever love anything or anyone in your life?”

Dazai drew back, visibly stung. “How rude, hatrack. Even you knew about Oda.”

Chuuya hissed through his teeth. Yes, he knew about Oda. Dazai had never looked at Chuuya like he’d looked at Oda.

Dazai? Love Chuuya? He scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”

Safety Net

Feb
18

Catch me.

A breath, poised on the edge of the precipice. To fall and to dream and to lose the ability to wake of himself.

Catch me, partner.

Corruption was a long, long fall into an abyss where he could not see the bottom. He saw the light in Dazai’s eyes, the hopeless look of a man who was not desperate to find hope, and thought even his partner saw the death at the bottom of the fall.

He fell, not flinging himself but simply letting go, hands outstretched and waiting in the darkness.

Dazai, who couldn’t be trusted, caught.

Looking Good

Feb
15

“Are you even listening?” Chuuya demanded.

Dazai blinked. “I can’t hear you from all the way down there, you’re so short!”

He said it by rote, spewing the first common refrain between them he could say on autopilot, and it had the desired effect of distracting Chuuya from where Dazai’s attention had really been.

Chuuya fumed and sputtered. Dazai went back to staring at the new choker that had shown up on his partner’s neck.

“Your necklace makes you look like a girl.” Dazai poked it.

Chuuya growled and swore.

Dazai smiled, knowing Chuuya would wear it forever from spite.


On AO3

How to Save a Life (or 3 Times They Took Care of Each Other and 1 Time They Didn’t)

Feb
14

“Why are you helping me?”

It took several breaths, rough and panting. The hand on Dazai’s shoulder was limper than it should have been. Chuuya was physically strong, for all he was tiny compared to Dazai. Dazai didn’t care about being touched and didn’t shove his partner off, but he suspected if he did, Chuuya would actually collapse back onto the bed Dazai held him at the edge of.

Corruption wasn’t actually new. It felt new. It was only the second time they’d deployed it in the field, but even so, it was the entire reason they were partnered together in the first place.

There was no love lost between them.

(more…)