Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

five years ago 

“Hmm…” 

Long, manicured nails rapped against a clipboard as a pair of harsh eyes scanned him up and down. The orange haired woman scribbled something on her sheet, and Chuuya couldn't even guess what it could have been. 

“Name?” She finally asked.

Chuuya groaned and rolled his eyes. “Nakahara Chuuya. My dumbass brother said—” 

“Language,” she scolded, her tone surprisingly sharp. It actually made Chuuya jump in his skin, and forced his lips shut. “Your brother's name?” 

Chuuya clenched his jaw, glaring at the woman in front of him. “Paul Verlaine.” 

The lady's gaze softened at the mention of his brother and it made Chuuya sick. It shouldn't have—Because that's how things had always been. It never mattered how tough or capable Chuuya thought himself to be, no one in their right mind would take an omega's word for something. 

“Oh, yes, I do remember speaking to Mr. Verlaine on the phone. He said that when you turned eighteen he had seven potential mates for you, and every single one of them turned you down,” she said, pensively. 

Chuuya forces a smile, even though what he really wanted was to reach across the space that separated them and strangle her—

Instead he just gripped the edge of the exam table even tighter. 

“I have high standards, there's nothing wrong with that.” 

“Mhmm. I suppose…If you have the numbers to back it up. Please remove your gown.” Ane-san’s voice was cold, even back then, before she knew the kind of headaches Chuuya would be willing to cause her. 

“You want me to strip?” he scoffed. “Pervert.” 

“There's nothing perverted   about verifying the information in your files. We’ll need accurate measurements and we’ll need to do a blood test.” 

“A blood test?! What the hell for?” he snapped back. “Isn’t this place a damn whore house? Who cares what my blood type is?!” 

“Language, Chuuya,” she scolded again. “And no, absolutely not. This is a reputable establishment, with high-end clientele. Many families opt to send their omegas here in lieu of matchmaking on their own because only the omegas of the highest caliber are accepted.” 

“Oh, so you only whore out fancy omegas. Well I ain’t fancy. I don’t know what the hell my brother told you, it was probably all bullshit.” 

He swore all the veins in her forehead bulged as she tried not to react to his attitude. “And that’s precisely why we need to verify. Now strip.” 

“If I don’t?” 

“Then we’ll have no choice but to reject your application, and you can hope to whatever deity you please that your dear brother returns to collect you.” 

Chuuya’s smile faded at that one. 

Sure, if Verlaine came back for him, he could send him somewhere else. There was still time. But the reality was that Chuuya knew for a fact that Verlaine wouldn’t be coming back for him. And if no one came to pick him up, he’d be left to his own devices on the streets, which would be problematic for a number of reasons. 

For one, if the police found an unmated, unclaimed omega of age roaming the streets unattended, they’d throw his ass in jail so fucking fast. No one really knew what happened when omegas were arrested. It was rare to ever hear from them again after that. 

The real danger, Chuuya thought, would be the fact that he’d likely get picked up by someone else before the cops for him. There were lots of shady people in the city who’d do disturbing things to an omega if they got their hands on one. 

He locked eyes with Ane-San as he stood up and pulled at the strings of the hospital gown he wore, letting it drop to his feet. She let out a breathy huff of air as she peered closer and made a couple of notes on her chart. 

“Well?” Chuuya scoffed after a while, wondering what the hell the verdict was. 

“Your physique is desirable. Slim build, wide hips…Sit on the table and spread your legs.” 

Chuuya rolled his eyes but sat back anyway, leaning back on his hands and spreading his knees wide as she moved onto inspecting his genitals. Her pen flew against the page once more, apparently having a lot  to say about his cunt. 

“Well, everything seems to check out so far,” Ane-San sighed, like she was disappointed that Chuuya’s body wasn’t nearly as low-brow as his attitude. “Our physician will be in shortly to collect samples. You may put the gown back on.” 

The next hour or so involved a lot of poking and prodding. The doctors took blood, swabbed his vagina, checked his vitals… By the time Ane-San came back to speak with him, he’d been put through the ringer and was in an even worse mood than he was before. 

“So, it appears, much to my chagrin, that you not only meet our house’s requirements for admission, but you far exceed almost all of them,” she explained in a tired voice. “You’re perfectly healthy, your fertility numbers are impressive, and if we can work on your manners, an alpha will pick you out in no time.” 

“Perfect,” he muttered sarcastically. 

“Welcome to The Golden House.” 

Present Day

“And what do you like to do for fun?” 

The man that sits next to Chuuya can’t be younger than fifty, and he smells like mothballs. Still, he pours tea from a kettle and flashes a smile that feels more deranged than it looks. He stiffens as the man’s hand finds his knee and he has to hold back the urge to switch to pouring the hot tea right over his damn crotch.

“I enjoy hunting small animals and preserving them in resin. I’m hoping my future alpha will take me to the market so I can sell them off as paper weights.” He says it with a perfectly straight face, and then smiles sweetly as the alpha draws his hand back. “Would you like to see one? Just the other day, I found a rat in my closet and—” 

“No, no, no, that’s okay, really,” the man chuckles nervously. 

“Oh, okay,” Chuuya shrugs, doing his best to sound perfectly innocent. Like he isn’t secretly enjoying saying the most horrifying things with a straight face just to watch another rich, scumbag alpha squirm. “Are you going to drink your tea? I prepared it specially for you.”

The man gulps and stares at the teacup on the coffee table in front of him, cautiously eyeing Chuuya as he tries to muster up a response. 

“No that’s—Oh, look, it appears we’re out of time,” the man lies, looking at his watch for only a split second before he springs to his feet and hurries out of the meeting room. Chuuya waits until the door slams shut behind him to lean back onto the couch and chuckle to himself. 

“Fucking idiot,” he mutters. He reaches over and takes the unclaimed teacup and sips it himself. Too bad that guy won’t ever get to know that Chuuya’s fucking great at making tea. He’s also a good cook, and good at cleaning, and his fertility numbers are so high, he’d probably get pregnant just from sucking a dick. 

Oh well. 

His loss. 

Not a moment later, the door swings open and Ane-san bursts into the room, nostrils flaring. “Chuuya! What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

He shrugs. “Nothing. He didn’t even want to try my tea.” 

“He just ran out of here complaining that we have rats! What did you tell him?!” 

“That’s what he was pissed about? The fuck is wrong with him?” Chuuya replies, exasperated. “I basically told him I liked to kill animals—And he’s gonna focus on rats? Sounds like I dodged a bullet, what a nutcase.” 

“Dammit, Chuuya,” Ane-san groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t even know why I bother with you anymore.” 

“Because you love me,” he teases. 

It’s been five years since Chuuya first came to the Golden House. In that time, he's managed to dodge every single potential mate that's come his way. And despite the way she reams him out, he knows that Ane-san secretly cares about him. There was that one time when a creep had tried to put his hands down Chuuya's pants a couple of years ago and she lost her shit when she found out. Had the guy banned for life and didn't let anyone see Chuuya for almost three months.  

Though, if anyone asked her outright, she'd call Chuuya a pain in the ass and lament about how he's been here longer than any omega ever has and she is sick of him. (She's not. She'd miss him.) 

“Be weird with the clients all you want but please don't tell people we have rats. Some people here actually want to attract good mates.” 

Chuuya lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “Fine, no more rat stories…How many more of these do I have today?” 

“You know, it wouldn’t be so bad if you’d actually try for once,” she says, which only elicits a loud groan from Chuuya. 

She’s given him this spiel only a hundred times before and she doesn’t get it. 

As a beta, she never will. 

In fact, all of the house staff are betas. It’s safer that way. 

Still, none of them will ever actually understand what it’s like to be treated like a specimen. To have to meet people day in and day out and smile while they ask him about his pussy. This has been his life for the past five years, and yet it isn’t even the worst he’s had to experience. Like most omegas, his childhood was relatively bleak. And not that it’s a competition, Chuuya’s was probably bleaker than most because his parents were scientists.  

Ones who studied secondary genders for a living and used their research to artificially inseminate his mother with the genetic code for the “perfect” omega. 

Most of the time, Chuuya pretends he doesn’t know about it—It’s easier that way. Easier to play dumb and go along with everyone’s dumb games, all while knowing he secretly has everyone wrapped around his little finger. There’s a reason Paul Veraline dropped him off here, and there’s a reason Ane-san hasn’t kicked him out and left him to the wolves. 

“Most of your friends don’t get a choice in a mate, but you…you could literally have an entire pool of mates to choose from who want you and yet you won’t let anyone get near you without scaring them off on purpose.” 

“Maybe I don’t want a mate,” Chuuya sighs. “Besides, I know you give me all the trash alphas anyway because you know none of them are going to say yes.” 

That part isn’t an exaggeration, either, and he’s not sure how or why things ended up that way. They just sort of… did. The House would get these sleaze ball alphas who somehow managed to round up enough money to pay a dowry—low class fuckers who just wanted pick up someone to fuck. Ane-san despised those types and could always pick them from a crowd. Most of the other omegas in the house were too meek or traditional to oppose anything an alpha said to them, and Ane-san worried about them. (Chuuya did too, but he’d never admit that out loud.) 

“Maybe I give you what you deserve.” 

“Nah, you’re a softie,” Chuuya says, a mischievous grin stretching between his cheeks. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. 

“Lucky for you, you’re off the hook for today,” she finally sighs after referencing her list. 

“Hell yeah—” 

“And don’t be late for dinner today, we have a new guest joining us,” she says. 

That’s what they call the omegas who live at The Golden House— Guests. The idea being that their stay is only temporary, and before they know it they’ll be moving on and moving in with their capable alpha mate. At this point, they should be calling Chuuya resident, because he’s definitely far exceeded his stay and fully plans on keeping it that way. 

Hell, he has his own damn room and a collection of his own things. He gets warm meals every single day and all he has to do is play mind games with alphas. Why would anyone want to leave a place like this when the outside world is…Well. 

The outside world could be anything.  

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he smiles, and she narrows her eyes. 

“Like that’s reassuring.” 

“Later, Ane-san!” 

With that he takes off, out of the Meeting room and down the long hallway until he gets to the courtyard—a small, grassy area with lots of sun and the closest Chuuya’s been to outside in a long ass time. 

“Yeah, told you—I win again,” is the first thing Chuuya hears from Albatross, another guest that Chuuya secretly considers to be a friend. He’s sitting on the steps, toes in the warm grass, as he talks to Lippman. After Chuuya, Albatross has been here the second-longest, which is only six months. Lippman’s only been here for one.  

“One day, I’m gonna be right,” Lippman argues. 

“And you’ll already be long gone, I guarantee it.” 

“What are you babbling about now?” Chuuya scoffs, plopping himself down in between them and rolling his neck. He lets out a tired sigh, as if he’s been hard at work for hours.  

“Lippman bet me his dessert that you’d get selected today,” Albatross snickers. 

“If you’re gonna make dumb ass bets like that, you might as well give up dessert forever,” Chuuya scoffs. “Also gross. This guy was a weirdo.” 

“They’re all weirdos to you,” Lippman points out. “What did you say to this one?” 

“It was the small animals in resin bit,” he sighs. “It works every time, feel free to use it if you ever get stuck in a Meeting Room with a gross ass alpha.” 

“Damn, I don’t know how you do it,” Albatross says. “I just wanna get the hell out of here, how have you managed five years in this place? It’s basically an institution.” 

“Yeah, and?” Chuuya retorts. 

“And…I don’t know. Don’t you wanna be mated and start a family? Aren’t you twenty-five now? That’s…” 

“That’s what?” he challenges, narrowing his eyes and silently daring Lippman to call him old. What neither of them know is that it doesn’t fucking matter how old he is—he’s always going to be of perfect childbearing age. He can afford to be picky—and who knows? 

Maybe there’s no one in this stupid world that deserves to take him as a mate. 

Dazai Osamu stares out at the city, marveling at all the twinkling lights as his fingers press against solid glass. The cars on the street below look like blobs of red and white streaking from where he stands. He’s always been a fan of city streets—The noise, the lights, the vivacity. Not that he enjoyed partaking in it—He just found it fascinating to see people from the outside looking in, wondering what they’re thinking and doing, curious about the mundane details of their lives. 

His eyes follow the glass up to the ceiling and then down to the ground. 

“Something wrong?” A voice interrupts him from his thoughts and he turns to see Sakaguchi—He’s met him somewhere before. He was his father’s…uh…he was something. Dazai just doesn't know what. Nor did he ever really care to know. 

“Just thinking about the absurdity of floor-to-ceiling windows,” he says, knocking his fist lightly against the glass. “If this were to shatter, I’d fall to my death.” 

“It’s bulletproof glass,” Sakaguchi says. 

“From this height, do you think I would die instantly? Or do you think all the bones in my body would shatter and I’d suffer a slow, painful death?” He glances back at Sakaguchi with an inquisitive look, pretending not to notice the way the beta’s eyelids twitch. Clearly whatever Dazai’s father instilled in him has left a good enough impression that he’s carried over his respect for the man to Dazai as well. 

Fuck, what’s his job again? 

Dazai still doesn’t remember. 

“I think that it’s not something you should worry about,” Sakaguchi grimaces. 

“Well, then, what should I worry about?” 

“Maybe the investor meeting from this afternoon?” 

Dazai blinks, remembering the blur of faces that sat around that conference table, talking to him in words he was supposed to understand, about a company he was supposed to give a shit about. Remembering all the empty condolences he’d received for a man that they barely knew. 

If they really knew his father, they might have been congratulating Dazai instead. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Dazai asks. 

“Not necessarily, but their confidence in you as CEO is already waning. They need to know you aren’t going to run this company into the ground,” Sakaguchi explains, which makes sense. 

Mostly because he fully intends on running it into the ground. 

Just not yet. 

“Well that’s no good,” Dazai hums. “What should I do?” 

“Do you remember what their primary concern was?” 

Dazai shrugs and Sakaguchi twitches again. 

“They’re not comfortable with an unmated alpha as their CEO.” He says it point-blank, without sugar coating it, and Dazai appreciates that. “They find unmated alphas, especially at your age, to be unstable and off putting. They’d like to see that you’re interested in raising a family, carrying on the legacy your father created.” 

“Oh?” he asks. “Well, then I suppose I should find a mate.” 

“Er, I mean, it’s not like you can just go to the store and pick one up, there’s a process and waiting lists and–” 

“Don’t they have those—oh, what are they called? Breeding Houses?” 

“ Mating Houses,” Sakaguchi corrects, as if there’s a difference. 

“Whatever, I’ll just go to one of those, how hard can it be?” Dazai says. And on paper it sounds simple enough. Find an omega, mate them and then magically, the investors will trust him again. It’s stupid, but in Dazai’s mind, it’s a relatively easy fix. 

“You have to apply in-person, submit a dowry, meet potential mates to see if you actually like them—”

“All I'm hearing is easy, easy, easy. Find me the mating house with the best reviews and make an appointment.” 

Sakaguchi scowls at the suggestion. 

Okay, so that rules out Sakaguchi being his personal assistant. Whoops. 

“Or at least tell me who will do that for me,” Dazai amends with an apologetic shrug. 

“Call them yourself.” 

“Man, you're telling me Dad didn't even have a personal assistant? What kind of lame-ass CEO was he?” Dazai groans. Sakaguchi looks at him as if he's the human embodiment of a migraine. 

He's probably right. 

“Your father was a good man, and was more successful than you'll ever realize,” Sakaguchi says. “And he did have a personal assistant. A young beta, her name is Higuchi.” 

“And might you have this Higuchi's phone number?” 

Sakaguchi sighs deeply. 

And pulls out his own phone. “She's probably not in the office…But here's her number.” 

Dazai grins, victorious as he records the assistant’s number in his own phone. 

Truth be told, Dazai couldn't care less about pleasing his deceased father's investor's. That man made Dazai's life a living hell while he was alive, and now he fully intends to make a fool of the man for thinking it would be a good idea to leave him in charge of his pharmaceutical corporation. 

Dazai never had any interest in the family business, if one could even call it that anymore. What did his family even do aside from attend galas and collect exorbitant paychecks without ever actually lifting a finger. 

No matter what anyone tells him, Dazai is nothing like his father. Their only similarities are a secondary gender he never asked for and the blood that he wishes he could drain from his own veins. 

Higuchi is a timid woman, even for a beta, Dazai thinks. She's professional, yet eager to please, and he imagines his father probably liked that in some sick, twisted way of his. He had been the kind of man who got off on making others quiver in his wake. 

And Higuchi clearly thinks that Dazai will be the same way, if the way she white-knuckles the steering wheel as she drives the two of them to a mating house. 

The Golden House. 

It's a reputable place, respectable even. 

Apparently his own mother had once been a house guest. That's what Higuchi told him, anyway. 

“Th-this is the place,” Higuchi stammers, her hands still tight around the wheel as she slows to a stop in front of the tall gates. Even from way out here, it's clear that The Golden House is far more than just a house. 

It's an estate. A traditional-style estate with gates that are clearly more modern in style, reinforced with a stronger metal. Not that it affects him one way or the other, but it's mildly refreshing to see that this place actually might have protections in place for their omegas.

Dazai hangs out the side of the car and presses the call button. Moments later a staticky voice pierces the silence. 

“Please state your full name and the purpose of your visit.” 

“Dazai Osamu, I have an appointment at noon,” He declares proudly. The voice doesn't respond, but soon after, there's a blaring buzz! and the gates slowly open.

“Looks like the main building is right over here,” Higuchi says, swallowing. “I'll park and wait for you?” 

“Perfect. Thanks, Higuchi,” he hums, emerging from the vehicle and slowly making his way towards the front entrance. Before he even gets to the steps, a woman wearing colorful, yet elegant, robes steps out, politely greeting him. 

He can tell right away that she isn't a potential suitor. She's not an omega, and she seems far past the prime age for mating. 

“Welcome, Mr. Dazai,” she says. “We've been excited for your visit.” 

“Really? I'm flattered,” he grins, even though he wants to roll his eyes right out of his head. He is well aware that that’s just code for ‘We recognized your surname and your absurd net worth and can’t wait to get your money.’ 

“Of course,” she smiles politely. “My name is Kouyou and I’m the head mistress here.” 

“Nice to meet you…so how does this work?” Dazai asks, removing his shoes and following her into the main house as she leads him to a space with large tatami mats and a sleek, black table adorned with several leather-bound portfolios. 

Kouyou smiles and invites him to sit across from her. 

“There are three different categories to choose from, based on dowry. What is your price range?” she inquires, and Dazai just shrugs because he honestly doesn’t know. His eyes sweep across the portfolios in front of him. The first stack is bound with a soft, green leather, the next with sleek black. The third one is brown and… Before he’s finished giving his attention to the third stack, his eyes fall to a fourth one. This stack is significantly smaller, bound in red. 

“There are four, you mean,” he says, nodding to the red folder. 

“Oh! Oh, this one wasn’t meant to still be out for you, I apologize,” she says, clearly flustered as she moves to remove it. 

“No, no, now I’m curious,” he says, flashing her a charming smile. She frowns, her eyes surprisingly harsh even towards a supposedly high-end client. 

“This is our most expensive dowry and, if I’m being honest, I’m not sure he’s worth your time, sir,” she says, apologetically. 

He’s smart enough to not let it show, but he’s suddenly very interested in the red folder. In what universe would anyone in any business withhold valuable goods from a customer who’s more than willing to shell out the cash? There’s something interesting in that red folder, and Dazai is dying to know what it is all of a sudden. 

“Well, no harm in looking, right? I’ll be the one to decide if he’s worth my time,” Dazai says, letting his words linger a bit before letting his features darken. “Or are you insinuating that I can’t afford the dowry?” 

Kouyou’s breathing falters and Dazai can feel it. She swallows thickly and sets the red, leather-bound folder back onto the table. “Of course not.” 

Up until this moment, he’s just been playing along with a stupid game that society created and forced him to play. He had no real interest in a mate, just a placeholder for what he ultimately wanted to gain from this situation. Honestly, he’d been prepared to just choose a few from the top of the list and flip a coin to see which one he’d take home. 

As soon as he opens the folder, he’s met with a headshot that nearly knocks all the air from his lungs. The photograph is of an omega with hair like fire and eyes like the ocean. His features are unique and striking—he’s beautiful. But that’s not what takes his breath away. No, it’s the glint of something dangerous in his eyes, the way his lips curl into a self-assured smirk, his chin held high. 

“This is Nakahara Chuuya, he’s our highest dowry, but keep in mind that he’s also our oldest guest,” she explains, almost apologetically, as he flips to the next page. 

“Chuuya, huh?” he murmurs, scanning down the list of all of his attributes. His health record is absolutely pristine—not a single blip in his genetics. Dazai doesn’t know much about fertility, but he does know a perfect score when he sees one. Just from that one-sheeter, he also learns that Chuuya is 160 centimeters tall, attended a well-known finishing school where he graduated in the top of his class, and has a clitoris that’s five centimeters long when aroused. Based on stats alone, Dazai can see why Chuuya comes with a side of sticker shock. 

Sure, he came to play the stupid game that his dead(literally)beat father signed him up for, but suddenly he finds himself genuinely intrigued to find out what this establishment happens to be hiding in regards to this… Nakahara Chuuya.  

“How long has he been here? And what’s the average stay for a guest?” 

“Based on our records, an average stay is six to eight months,” she explains, and he can already detect the hesitation in her voice. The way she beats around the bush. 

“And how long has Chuuya been a guest?” 

Kouyou swallows. “Five years.” 

Dazai smirks and snaps the portfolio shut. “I’d like to meet with him, please. As soon as possible.” 

“Are you sure? He’s—His attitude is deplorable for his price, I don’t want to offend you, Dazai—” 

“Deplorable, huh? What is his price exactly?” Dazai asks. He’s well aware that omegas from a place like this one aren’t going to be cheap.  Even the bottom of the stack probably starts at fifty million yen. 

“Um, eight hundred,” she says, sheepishly. 

Dazai blinks. “Eight hundred what?”  

“E-eight hundred million yen,” she admits, her eyes downcast like she’s embarrassed. “I know it’s ridiculous and I really do advise you to look at some of our other guests with more reasonable dowries. A-Atsushi just arrived yesterday, his dowry is set at—”

“I’m sorry, Miss Kouyou, but I really want to meet Nakahara Chuuya. Today, preferably. I’m a very busy man and I’d hate to deny patronage to the place where my own mother’s dowry was paid for by my late father years and years ago,” he purposely sounds wistful and fond of his parents. 

“Right, you’re absolutely right. And my condolences, sir. You’re an honored patron here. Let me show you to a meeting room and I’ll fetch Nakahara right away.” 

Dazai smiles sweetly, silently victorious. “Thank you so much.”

Something isn’t adding up, and Dazai is intrigued by the mystery of it—the story that’s buried somewhere in there. How in the hell could a nearly perfect omega with a dowry of eight hundred million not already been snatched up as the shiny new trophy wife for some other scumbag CEO? 

One way or another, he’s going to find out. And who knows? 

Maybe this Nakahara Chuuya will end up being exactly what his plan needs. 

Chapter Text

“Nakahara!” 

Chuuya jolts at the sound of Ane-san’s voice paired with her fist against his bedroom door. He's sitting cross-legged on his bed in a t-shirt and a pair of underwear, a pair of scissors in hand as he cuts pictures out of a magazine. (Okay, he said he has a good life in The Golden House, not that it's a particularly exciting one.)

“What? I'm busy, ” he yells back. 

Snip. Snip. 

Much to his dismay, Ane-san invokes her power as head mistress and unlocks the door with her master key. Okay, so something's clearly wrong…  

He sighs and puts down the scissors as she steps into the room. For a moment she stops to give an odd look to his little project, then shakes her head as if she'd rather not know. 

“Get dressed. Put on something nice. Actually, remember those robes that Hirotsu had tailored for you that you've never once worn?” she suggests, pulling open the doors to his closet and searching. He raises an eyebrow. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Chuuya scoffs, squinting at her erratic behavior. “And I hate those robes, they itch.” 

“Too bad, you're meeting a potential mate today,” she says shortly. Chuuya drops his jaw, giving her an incredulous look. 

“No the fuck I'm not,” he fires back. 

Ane-san spins around so fast it nearly gives Chuuya whiplash. “Have you ever heard of Tsushima Pharmaceuticals?” 

Chuuya stares at her, unyielding. “Don't know, don't care.” 

Ane-san groans and marches over to Chuuya's nightstand, yanks open the drawer and pulls out his bottle of heat suppressants. They aren't for suppressing his heats so much as they are for keeping his pheromones at bay. Without them, he'd probably have the entire estate smelling like him. 

The other guests wouldn't like that too much.

The beta shoves the package in his face, forcing him to look at the manufacturer logo on the back of the package. Chuuya just shrugs and tosses it aside. 

“What? Does this guy work for them?” 

“No, Chuuya, this group is massive and stupidly wealthy. The CEO recently passed away and his son took over—his unmated son.” 

“Great, another trust fund baby. Boring. I'll just tell him to suck my ass and he’ll run crying.” Chuuya lays back on his bed as Ane-san tosses the aforementioned robes in his direction, not batting an eye at the way they smack Chuuya right in the face.

“ You most certainly will not. I'm serious, Chuuya. This man is powerful and if you offend him, he could get this place shut down.” 

He'd like to believe that Ane-san is just being dramatic and over protective, but he also knows her. Knows she wouldn't push Chuuya into a meeting if it weren't absolutely vital. Something about this guy clearly has her scared into thinking the worst case scenario. 

“Fine, I'll be on my best behavior,” he finally caves. “Why do I have to go?” 

She almost never set him up anymore—Only if she was looking to get rid of someone, or Chuuya was particularly bored and needed an additional source of entertainment. He never once felt as though he was actually at risk of being claimed. 

Eight hundred million. No one wants to spend that much money on an omega who's already twenty six. Not unless they’re a psycho billionaire with ulterior motives. Chuuya shivers at the thought. 

Ane-san puts him through the ringer in record time. Makes him strip down, wash up, put on the itchy robes, and then takes it upon herself to brush his hair and pin it back. 

“Look at you, you almost look civilized,” she teases, once she's finished. Chuuya looks at himself in the mirror and makes a face. 

“I look stupid. Is that what he asked for? A stupid omega? A fuckin’ clown?” 

“No, no, best case scenario, he just has an ego and wants the most expensive mate he can find,” she says with a lofty sigh. “You don't have to seduce him or anything just…don't do anything that would hurt your friends, you know?” 

Chuuya's throat tightens as he thinks about the other guests…about Albatross and Lippman…Even about the newest omega, Atsushi, who joined them the other day. They're all still doe-eyed and fantasize about an alpha one day coming by to sweep them off their feet. Not to mention how good they have it here but living with Ane-san and the rest of the house staff. They treat omegas better than other places, he's heard. 

Where would they end up without this place? 

“I'll be good,” he promises. 

She places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. There's a weird look in her eyes, and for a brief moment, Chuuya wonders if she's going to cry. 

He blinks, shrugging off the weird feeling he suddenly has in the pit of his stomach. For the first time before a meeting, he wonders if he might have to pack his bags afterwards. 

“He's in the blue room,” she tells him, her voice a bit somber. 

“Okay.” 

With that, he tears himself away from the woman and exits his bedroom. 

The blue room is just that—A room with dark blue walls and gold trim.  There's no couch, just tatami flooring and large, plush cushions that Chuuya definitely hasn't tried to steal for his own nest before. 

Before he gets to the blue room, he stops by the kitchen and picks up a tray, already prepped with a tea kettle and two cups. By now, he's done this little dance a hundred times, and it's almost like second nature. 

Maybe too much like second nature. 

Because without thinking, when Chuuya gets to the sliding door, he kicks the door frame sideways until it slides out of his way. Shit. After he just promised Kouyou he'd behave. 

It doesn't help that the alpha inside question is already inside, cross-legged on a cushion and staring at Chuuya. Ane-san was right; he does look young for an alpha CEO looking to take a mate. As much as he hates to admit it, he might even be handsome , too. He has brown eyes and thick, dark lashes. The mop of hair on his head makes him look like less of a business man and more of an artist or something. He wears a dark, navy-colored suit that’s neatly pressed and fits him like a glove. 

“Uh, sorry,” he mumbles, carefully putting the door back in place. 

“No, don't be, that was impressive,” he says, with a grin. He lightly claps his hands together in front of his chest in mini applause. 

Weird. 

Chuuya steadies himself once more and holds out to the tray, focusing on grace and posture or whatever the fuck he was supposed to be doing. He's never paid too much attention to it, but now he feels like a damn robot as he sets the tray down between them and kneels. 

He smooths his robes over his thighs and reaches for the kettle. When he looks up, he sees that the alpha is just staring at him with a stupid, shit-eating grin. 

“Is something wrong?” Chuuya asks, stopping himself from saying something more crude. Like what the fuck is wrong with you?!

“Nothing, I'm just mesmerized,” the alpha says. “Chuuya is even prettier in person.”

Chuuya pauses and stares at him, scanning his features and waiting for the other shoe to drop. There’s something odd about this guy, he can tell that much. For one thing, he can’t be older than Chuuya is, which is young compared to most alphas who come by. He promised Ane-san he’d behave, but he’s tempted to at least test the waters. 

“Would you like some tea?” he asks, deciding to ignore the compliment. 

“Sure, why not?” he smiles. His demeanor is far too casual for their current situation. He seems less like a prideful alpha looking for a trophy wife and more like…an amused child. Someone who’s decided to take his lunch break at an exotic new lunch spot. Something like that. 

Not a multi-billionaire that wants a mate. 

Chuuya studies him carefully, watching his face and wondering what the hell he must be thinking. Dazai’s expression remains unchanged, unfaltering under Chuuya’s scrutiny. For a moment, Chuuya’s eyes drop lower, and he notices what looks to be a bunch of bandages that wrap neatly (and tightly) around his neck, originating from somewhere below his shirt collar. 

Wordlessly, Chuuya pours the tea and sets the kettle back down. 

“What are you looking for in a mate?” Chuuya asks him. Translation: What the hell is your game?

“Honestly? I’m not too sure,” Dazai admits. “Maybe a beautiful omega who’d be willing to commit a double suicide with me.” 

Chuuya nearly drops the teapot. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” 

The alpha’s eyes widen, his lips pressing together in a firm line as he stifles a laugh. Chuuya’s jaw snaps shut as he realizes what he just said and silently apologizes to Ane-san. 

“Sorry, I—” 

“Don’t apologize, a little swearing isn’t going to scare me away,” he shrugs. “If I’m being honest, I don’t prefer this show that you’re putting on. I’d rather get to know the real Chuuya.”

“Oh, well, it seems that we’re not a good match, then, because this is the real me,” Chuuya sighs. “I’ll inform the house staff and have them send in someone else.” 

“No,” he says, quickly. “Stay and chat. My name is Dazai Osamu, by the way. Tell me about yourself, Chuuya.” 

Chuuya stares at the man—At Dazai.

He hates how casually arrogant he seems. How he intends to use said arrogance to get Chuuya out of his shell as if he’s something special. 

“My name is Chuuya, I’m twenty-six years old, I grew up in France with my older—” 

“No, no, what do you like to do for fun?” Dazai asks, interrupting him. Chuuya narrows his eyes at the alpha and lets out an annoyed huff. 

“I like capturing small animals and preserving them in resin. I think they make neat paperweights.” He doesn’t mean for the bit to slip out as easily as it does, but Dazai is practically provoking him. He’ll apologize to Ane-san, find some way to make it up to her— 

“Oh really? What about taxidermy?” 

Chuuya blinks. 

That’s not— 

What?

“Too messy,” Chuuya says quickly, recovering the best he can from his moment of hesitation. Maybe he’s imagining something, but suddenly there seems to be more of a sparkle in Dazai’s eye.  

“That’s fair,” Dazai says. “Tell me, how does a pretty little thing like you get stuck in a place like this for five years?” 

“Because I poison the tea.” 

Dazai rolls his head back and laughs. “God, I wish. Wouldn’t that make things interesting?” 

Chuuya knits his eyebrows together, wondering if he should run out of the room and let Ane-san know that she set him up with a fuckin’ psycho.  

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see if you die,” Chuuya says, expressionless as he keeps his eyes locked onto Dazai. 

“I see,” he chuckles. “This is how you’ve managed to avoid being selected after all this time, isn’t it? You say outrageous, impolite things and scare away all the traditional old farts. Let me guess: you’ve got it made here and you don’t want to leave, hmm?” 

Chuuya’s stomach drops. 

“There’s something fucking weird about you,” Chuuya says, finally dropping the polite act. “What’s your angle?” 

But Dazai just seems to like that even more. Fuck him.  

“No angle,” he says, and Chuuya’s sure it’s a lie. “I just think you’re neat. I already want to take you home with me.” 

“Yeah? Wait until I start embarrassing you in front of all your rich buddies. Better familiarize yourself with the return policy,” Chuuya snarls. There’s no way this idiot is actually going to take him home. He can’t—He lives here. Now he has to just leave? Just like that? 

“You underestimate me, Chuuya.” Dazai leans one elbow against the table and lets out a lofty sigh. Chuuya keeps his back straight and his expression firm, despite the fact that his heart rate has quickened. In all his years, he’s never come this close to someone wanting to take him home and suddenly his mind is blank.

He has to think of something else—

“I’m sterile,” he lies. 

“Good, I didn’t want pups anyway.” 

Chuuya digs his heels in. “That was just a test, I’m very fertile and yet my heats are out of control. How can a busy CEO like you, who doesn’t want pups, possibly have the time to satiate my needs?” 

“Bold of you to assume I’d be busy as a CEO. And still doesn’t bother me—I’ll hire a nanny.” 

This man is absolutely preposterous. He’s pretentious and self-absorbed, but in a way that Chuuya’s never seen before. 

“If you want bold, I’ll give you bold: choose someone else and leave me alone,” Chuuya finally says, putting it out in the open. Dazai’s smile fades, but the light in his eyes flickers and Chuuya forgets how to breathe all of a sudden. 

“Why should I?” His voice is dangerous, challenging. 

Chuuya’s never been one to back down from a fight, though.

“We get new guests joining us every week—They’re scared and inexperienced. They need someone like them that they can trust to guide them through the process,” Chuuya explains. 

“That’s awfully noble of you,” Dazai says. “And yet I don’t believe that’s the real reason.” 

“Your choice.” 

To be honest, his reasons for staying and avoiding a match are much more complex than someone like Dazai could ever understand. He’s probably never seen an ounce of injustice in his life—He’s always been free to do what he wants and roam the outside world as if he owns it. 

Chuuya on the other hand, is an anomaly among anomalies. 

While he doesn’t exactly know the agreement his brother had with Ane-san, he knows that one exists. He knows that Chuuya isn’t just here to find a mate—He’s here because it isn’t safe for him on the streets, because his Verlaine was never able to find a suitable alpha that he could trust to handle Chuuya. Other omegas wouldn’t be safe on the streets, either, but…well. He doesn’t know all the details, but he knows that there’s something about him that warrants extra protection.

Sure, Dazai might think he has him figured out, but he doesn’t. And he never will. 

“How about this: I’ll match your dowry in a donation to the house,” Dazai suggests. 

“Wh—What the hell?” Chuuya nearly chokes. “That’s insane.” 

“It’s pocket change.” Fucking arrogant bastard. 

Chuuya glares at him, stuck between losing his fucking shit, and respected Ane-san’s wishes. He’s already acted out, and the guy hasn’t left yet. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but… Fuck. He’s not ready. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he kind of assumed that one day he'd just become one with the house—Living in the walls as a permanent fixture rather than a guest for sale. 

“So—Forgive me, I’m new to this—What’s next? Do I take you up to the register to pay so they can bag you up for me like groceries?” 

Chuuya decides that he hates Dazai. 

“You wish,” Chuuya mutters. 

“What’s wrong? You don’t wanna leave?” He can tell that the alpha is only feigning sympathy. There’s no way he gives a flying fuck how Chuuya feels about leaving. “You seem like a tough cookie. How do you know the outside world isn’t going to be more exciting than…this?” 

That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? The outside world is too exciting. 

“I didn’t say any of that,” Chuuya insists. “It’s just not that simple. If you actually read my file, you’d know that you can’t just whisk me away so easily.” 

Dazai sits forward, as if Chuuya’s said something delightfully interesting. For now, he ignores that reaction and what could possibly be going through the dumb alpha’s mind. 

“Oh?” 

Omegas end up in mating houses for a variety of reasons. Either their families don’t have the connections necessary to set them up with an arranged mate otherwise, or it’s because they simply don’t want to be bothered with the process. Dowries always account for these types of situations, as well as the family’s status, and the omega’s own properties. Chuuya isn’t supposed to know, but he’s a special case because of his origins. Paul Verlaine knew that The Golden House would protect him, and shield him from the world until he found a suitable mate. And a suitable mate isn’t simply someone who’s willing to pay Chuuya’s dowry. 

It also has to be someone that his brother personally approves of. 

“Your next step is to talk to Kouyou about scheduling an interview with my brother,” Chuuya says, like he’s finally pulled the winning card. He stands and straightens himself out.  “If that seems like too much of a pain in the ass, I understand. There are plenty of expensive omegas that don't have family interview stipulations in their files.” 

“Ah, okay,” Dazai says, and for a split second Chuuya thinks he might actually back out. But then he stands as well, towering well over Chuuya in height. “I’ll be sure to set that up right away, then.” 

“Great,” Chuuya forces a smile. “Best of luck.” 

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Chuuya.” 

“Wish I could say the same.” 

He’s supposed to curtsy or bow or whatever, but instead of any of that, he turns on one heel and storms out of the room. This time, he kicks the door aside, hard, and without apologizing. 

“Is it true? I heard Verlaine’s coming in for an interview,” Albatross asks, sliding into a chair next to Chuuya’s at dinner that night. Chuuya shoots him a sideways glare before rolling his eyes. “Oh my god, it is true!” 

“Whatever, I’m not fucking worried about it. This guy is an idiot and my brother will see that,” Chuuya insists. Though, on the inside, he isn’t all that confident about what Verlaine will do. He hasn’t seen the guy in years and never really knew what he would be looking for in a suitable mate for Chuuya. 

There’s no way that Dazai Osamu would pass the test, though. Right? 

“What’s he like? The alpha, I mean.” The question comes from Atsushi, one of the new guests who sits across the table from them. He’s a sweet kid, but he’s timid and still thinks of matching with an alpha as the ultimate act of romance. 

“Stupid,” Chuuya mutters, and Atsushi gives him a sad look. 

“Oh.” 

“He’s arrogant, too.” 

“Is he rich? He’s gotta be rich if he’s paying your dowry,” Albatross says, and Atsushi perks right up. 

“Really? What’s your dowry, Chuuya?” Atsushi asks. For a moment, he considers lying to him, because he happens to know that Atsushi’s dowry isn’t even half of what Chuuya’s is. But he doesn’t even need to make that decision, because Albatross butts in anyway. 

“Eight hundred million,” he says, eyes shining at the mention of his price tag. Poor Atsushi’s jaw nearly drops to the ground. 

“That’s! Wow, you must be amazing,” Atsushi says, with stars in his eyes as if he admires Chuuya for simply being expensive. It’s not like he set his own price. Whatever. 

“Chuuya’s in a category of his own,” Albatross brags. 

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “It’s ‘cause I’m old.” 

“What was his scent like?” Atsushi asks, back to daydreaming about the rich alpha. 

“Nothing special, it was—” Chuuya cuts himself off and stops as soon as he realizes that he doesn’t actually know. Every time he’s gone to a meeting, he’s learned to sort of desensitize himself to pheromones because they all sort of sucked. And the thought alone made him sick because of the larger implications. 

Chuuya and all the other guests were, at all times, dousing themselves in scent blockers and wearing collars to mask their scents to avoid getting raped and then blamed for provoking an alpha . And in turn, alphas could just walz in at any time, uncovered and unbothered. Might as well just whip their dicks out at that point while they’re at it, Chuuya thinks. 

But Dazai…What the fuck did Dazai smell like? He can’t remember even smelling a damn thing. 

Was he wearing blockers? Is that what those weird bandages were for?

It’s stupid, but the thought alone actually makes his heart skip a beat. 

And as soon as that happens, Chuuya wishes he could reach into his own chest and throw it in the trash for betraying him like that. 

He’s not some naive omega like Atsushi, tricked into thinking society is meant to protect them. He’ll play along for his own benefit, sure, but at the same time, there isn’t a bone in his body that believes any alpha would be coming along to save him. 

“Don’t know, don’t fucking care,” Chuuya grits. “He’s clearly just some rich boy who hasn’t had any humility in his life. There’s no way in hell he makes it through the interview with Verlaine.” 

Dazai finds his visit to The Golden House to be a truly fascinating experience. 

As soon as Chuuya had made his entrance, Dazai knew that he’d be the one. Not in the sense that they’d fall in love or that he had any interest in reproducing with the guy, but he could already tell he would be the perfect fit for the role Dazai had in mind. He could see it in the way the omega kicked that door open, and then quickly turned on a dime, back to playing the part of a well-behaved house guest intent on pleasing an alpha. 

The act probably fooled a lot of others into thinking Chuuya was high-class, that he’d be easy to subdue. Based on his file, his grades in finishing school—those odd institutions that omegas go to where instead of literature and geometry, they learn about manners and etiquette and crap like that—were all perfect scores. On paper, he seems like an extraordinary housewife. To Dazai, he seems like the world’s best liar. 

And that’s exactly what he needs. 

An omega who can play the part of the meek, breedable housewife, and then when no one’s looking he’d mind his own business and leave Dazai alone. 

Now, all he has to do is play some mind games with this brother of his—An alpha who has, apparently, flown in from Europe just for this meeting. Dazai did a little research of his own on Paul Verlaine. It came as no surprise to find that the man works for the French government, with a vague title that told Dazai that his position was clearly classified. Still, he’s clearly a highly educated alpha, with an omega of his own, and a net worth that doesn’t quite justify Chuuya’s dowry. 

And the plot thickens…

The room that he meets Paul Verlaine in is nothing like the place where he met Chuuya. This space is more like a modern office space, where two respectable alphas such as themselves would conduct respectable business. Clearly, neither of them were expected to prance around and play pretend tea parties. 

“Dazai Osamu,” Verlaine says when he enters the room. Dazai stands and reaches out to shake his hand politely. “A pleasure to meet you.” 

“Likewise, Paul Verlaine,” Dazai says, with a calculated grin. The other man removes his hat and they both sit across from each other. “I’m honored to have you come such a long way to meet me.” 

“And I am likewise honored to hear you’ve taken an interest in my brother,” he says, and Dazai knows he doesn’t mean a word of it. “He can be a bit…odd.” 

“I find him charming,” Dazai says, and it isn’t actually a lie. 

“You know he’s twenty-five,” Verlaine reminds him, as if that’s some sort of god-awful number. 

“Funny, so am I,” Dazai replies. 

“And yet you own all of Tsushima Pharmaceuticals, correct?” 

“So you’ve heard of me? I’m a little embarrassed,” he chuckles. 

“As you should be. You have no experience in the business, as someone who has recently inherited it. I don’t think your old man’s body is even cold yet.” 

Dazai can feel his gaze darken. Well, if that’s the game he wants to play. 

“I thought it was awfully bold for a simple government lackey to set such a ridiculous dowry for an omega who’s clearly quite average,” Dazai says. (And that’s a lie, because there’s definitely something more to Chuuya that no one wants to tell him.) 

Verlaine adjusts his posture, his eyes narrowing in Dazai’s direction. “Do you really intend to insult my brother and think I’ll sign off on your mating agreement?” 

“Yeah, I think you will,” Dazai hums. “Clearly there’s something about Chuuya that you don’t want me to know, and I can respect that. However…You underestimate my ability to protect him. You’ve done your research, I can tell. So you should know what kind of power I hold.” 

If Verlaine could kill him with just one look, it would be with the one he’s giving him now. 

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Verlaine says, his voice low. “If you take Chuuya as a mate, you’ll end up regretting it.” 

“Is that a threat?” Dazai asks, with a gentle laugh. 

“No,” Verlaine says, with absolution. 

Dazai’s smile disappears as he tries to analyze Veraline’s response. There’s something dark that lingers behind his words, something that Dazai can’t even begin to comprehend…and that pisses him off. 

“Threat or not, I’d like to take him still,” Dazai finally says. 

“How much would it take to get you to look elsewhere?” 

“More than you have to offer.” 

He feels victorious when he notices the way Verlaine’s jaw tightens, his face straining against the urge to scowl, or even scream, at Dazai. 

“Fine. The only other stipulation I have is that you carefully read his mating agreement before signing it.” 

Dazai sighs, resisting the urge to tell him that it’s a lame stipulation. Verlaine produces a stack of papers from the briefcase he had been carrying and slides them over to Dazai. They’re neatly attached, filed into a folder with a leather cover of the same red that Chuuya’s profile had been concealed in. 

He opens the folder, his eyes immediately finding the heading: 

Non-Disclosure Agreement

“An NDA? Really?” he chuckles. Verlaine doesn’t budge, so Dazai just mumbles to himself and goes back to reading. 

1. The Discloser intends to disclose confidential information to the Recipient for the purpose of the union between the Recipient and the Omega (the Purpose). 
2. The Recipient undertakes not to make any further inquiries into the identities of the Omega’s immediate and extended family, with no exceptions. 
3. The Recipient undertakes to keep the Confidential Information secure and not to disclose it to any third party, including the Omega—-

“Hold on, how does that make any sense?” Dazai scoffs. “I can’t tell Chuuya confidential information about himself?” 

“Correct.” 

4. The Recipient understands that once the Agreement is signed, the Recipient’s responsibility to the Omega will be for life. Neglect or failure to uphold will result in immediate legal action. 

So, once he signs this, even if whatever it is he learns about Chuuya ends up being deeply unsettling or problematic, he has no choice but to continue on with it. Well, that at least answers his question about why no one’s mated him yet. Who the hell would go through such lengths for someone? 

Apparently Dazai would. 

“Alright, where do I sign?” Dazai finally says, after skimming the rest of the text. The rest of the stipulations are the same— purposely vague, yet all-encompassing. Basically, anything he knows about Chuuya and/or where he came from is a secret and he’ll get in big, big, trouble if he tells anyone. 

Easy.

“Seriously?” Verlaine mutters, like he seriously thought his legal threats would scare him away. 

“For real.” 

“Why are you looking for a mate, Dazai?” he asks. 

“It’s pretty simple, actually. Apparently investors want a mated CEO. Ridiculous, right? Chuuya happens to be just my type.” 

Verlaine studies him for a moment, his eyes lingering on Dazai as if they’re trying to read his thoughts. Wordlessly, Verlaine flips through a few pages and points to the highlighted signature pages, where Dazai willingly signs himself to secrecy…as well as to the promise to uphold his end of the mating agreement. 

“So, now that that’s out of the way—” 

“Hold on,” Verlaine interrupts him, taking out a stamp. Dazai blinks, watching as he notarizes the document in front of him. There’s something about the process that makes it perfectly clear to Dazai how serious he is about all of this. 

“So tell me,” Dazai says once he’s done. “Who is Nakahara Chuuya?” 

Chapter Text

Chuuya knows something is wrong when Ane-san comes by his room one evening to tell him that his brother is waiting for him. It’s late at night, almost a week after his meeting with Dazai. There hadn’t been any updates, so Chuuya had foolishly assumed he’d be in the clear. 

That shitty Dazai had finally given up and left. 

But Verlaine asking to see him isn’t a good sign. It can’t be. Not when he hasn’t seen his brother in the entire five years since he’s dropped Chuuya off. 

“He’s…here?” he asks her. He’s already in his pajamas, and had been ready to turn in for the evening. “Did he already meet with that alpha? 

Maybe if he doesn’t call him by his name, he’ll go away. Like he doesn’t exist. 

“Yeah, he did,” Ane-san says. 

“What? Then—” Chuuya stumbles over his words. Verlaine has been to the house once to meet an alpha who wanted to mate Chuuya. And neither Verlaine nor the alpha were heard from again after the meeting, and Chuuya was hopeful that this one would go the same way. 

“Chuuya, they both signed the contract.” 

They both signed the contract. 

They both signed—

Static rings in between his ears, his mind going blank. It's like he's been hiding away for all these years, and is just now being served a life sentence he thought he'd be able to dodge. He can't even look at Ane-san as he blinks back tears. 

“Okay.” 

What else is there to say? 

It's not like he actually has a choice. 

“I'll have someone collect your things from your room while you talk with Verlaine,” she explains. 

“Really?” Chuuya asks, brightening just a little. Many times, when omegas are chosen, their alpha won't let them bring any belongings. Most prefer it that way—A clean slate for a new life. 

Over the years, Chuuya has accumulated a lot more than the average guest. He has enough clothes to fill a suitcase, a collection of books and magazines, as well as an assortment of toys that help him through his heats. 

Ane-san nods towards the hallway, waving off his current state of dress and insisting that, for once, it doesn’t actually matter. He looks around his bedroom one more—one last time, a lump forming in his throat. The deep blue walls, the twin-sized bed… the little magazine clippings he’s taped around the room over the years in a weak attempt to liven up the place. On the outside, it probably looks a little more like a serial killer’s bedroom than he meant for it to look. 

“Yes, he said it would be a shame not to bring them with you,” Ane-san smiles. Chuuya's relieved, but still not ready to smile about any of it yet. 

“What do you think about him?” Chuuya asks. 

“Dazai seems…charming,” she says, probably hoping that Chuuya won't notice the way she hesitates. “I don't know much about him to be honest…but his family is very wealthy and holds a lot of power in the city.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

“It depends on who you are. As the CEO's omega I believe it would be a good thing…But anyone with that much influence is bound to have enemies.”  

Chuuya grimaces at that. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that, though. With his influence, he’ll keep you safe. I’m sure Verlaine would have made certain about that,” Ane-san explains. Chuuya isn’t sure he agrees with that sentiment, given the fact that the guy dropped him off five years ago and hasn’t returned to check on him even once in that time. 

Not that it matters. Chuuya’s fine. 

“Will I see you again?” Chuuya asks her, right as they stop outside the door to the room where he’d be meeting with his brother. The expression on her face is unreadable, and uncharacteristically so. Over the years, he’s gotten to know her pretty well—he can tell when she’s tired, when she’s amused, when Chuuya’s pissed her off one too many times in a single day…

“If you see me again, that means someone has failed you,” she says. To be honest, he doesn’t know why she has to make it sound so bleak and devastating. “While I will… miss you… I sincerely hope that we never cross paths again.” 

“Damn, okay,” he mutters, doing his best to pretend like she didn’t just hurt his feelings. She could have just said yeah and not meant it, but no. Without another word, though, she reaches out to squeeze his hand, pressing a tiny slip of paper into his palm. 

Chuuya blinks, confused. 

check your bags when you get home

He doesn’t know what to say to that, and judging by the way Ane-san shakes her head, she doesn’t want him to say anything, at least not out loud. That, and she’s taking the slip of paper back and tucking it into her robes before he can even close his hand around it. 

Weird.  

“Thank you for everything, I guess.” It sounds like the right thing to say, even though he’s not sure what that even means. If he’d had the normal experience, and matched within a few months, there’s no doubt in his mind he would have flipped Ane-san off on his way out, or told her to kiss his ass, or something equally crude. 

But now… 

He doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he steps forward and hugs her tight. Under his grip, she freezes at first, before softening a little and lightly patting his hair, comforting him like a mother or older sister would. When he steps back, he doesn’t say anything to her. He can’t. So he nods and steps into the room where, just as he’d been told, Paul Verlaine waits for him. 

The room is smaller than any of the meeting rooms. It’s a tiny sitting space with a couple of couches and a coffee table. On the one furthest from him, sits a tall man with blond hair twisted back in a neat braid. He looks older than Chuuya remembers, his features sharper and more jagged. 

As far as he knows, Paul Verlaine isn’t his real brother. Not biologically, anyway. If anyone asks, he’ll insist that they are and even has documentation to prove it, which should be enough even for Chuuya to believe. 

But he has dreams, sometimes, that seem far too real to be something he’s just made up in his head. And sometimes it happens when Chuuya isn’t even sleeping, where he sees visions clear as day—Of Verlaine reaching out his hand, telling Chuuya to come with him, that he’d protect him. 

From what, he’s not sure. No matter how many times he gets to that part of the dream, he never finds out what it is that Verlaine wants to protect him from. 

It doesn’t help that his memories from childhood are disjointed anyway, to the point where Verlaine has helped him fill in the missing pieces. He remembers his parents’ faces, and he remembers the crisp, clean, lab coats they wore. He remembers their smiles and their voices telling him, “It’s okay, just breathe. You’ll feel better soon.” 

At some point, he blinks, and he’s no longer with the couple wearing lab coats, and instead he’s sitting at a table in a rustic kitchen somewhere in France. There was a house that sat on acres of farmland where he lived with Verlaine before he went to boarding school. His parents didn’t live there. He doesn’t remember them ever being there. Even if that vision of Verlaine extending his hand is nothing more than a vivid hallucination, he can’t deny the fact that it fits in eerily well with the gap in his memories. 

It’s easier, he’s discovered, not to ask Verlaine too many questions. 

“After all these years, and you finally show up just to sell me to some fucking loser,” Chuuya scoffs, hands on his hips instead of just saying hello to his estranged brother like a normal person. Verlaine’s face cracks into a surprisingly warm smile. 

“Charming as ever, Chuuya,” he chuckles. “Come have a seat for a moment.” 

He rolls his eyes and then plops himself down on the sofa situated across from him. “Whatever, at least it sounds like this guy’s got cash.” 

“That’s one way to put it,” Verlaine says, pressing his lips together into a line that isn’t quite a smile. “At the very least, I trust that he’s up to the task of handling you.” 

“I’m not a damn dog.”  

“And yet…Oh, Chuuya, when you talk like that it makes it seem like all that money spent on your finishing school tuition was a waste,” he says, with a wistful sigh. Chuuya rolls his eyes, but only because he knows he’s just teasing. “I do feel confident that you’ll be safe with Dazai Osamu…but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any dangers you should be wary of.” 

“You make it sound like I’ll be running out past curfew or something,” Chuuya scoffs. “I’m not stupid enough to do something like that.” 

The last thing any omega wants is to be caught, alone, somewhere at night. 

“I’m aware,” his brother smirks. “You know what this means, right?” 

“What? That I’m leaving the house? That I have to go live with shitty Dazai in his stupid house?” Chuuya mutters. 

“As his mate,” Verlaine reminds him. He pauses at the reminder, then shakes his head because duh, he knows that. That’s why he’s at a mating house. So that one day an alpha would come along and… take him as a mate. 

It’s been so long that he sort of let himself stop thinking about it. And now his head is swirling around with everything he can recollect about what mating entails. At the most basic level, he knows that mating is a way to secure a bond between an alpha and an omega, and that doing so involves a bond mark over the scent gland on his neck… while knotted.  

His cheeks burn at the reminder. 

He swallows. 

“I’ll be fine,” Chuuya sighs. “Not much I can do about it anyway, is there?” 

Verlaine stares back at him, his eyes studying him carefully before he responds. He’s always been better than Chuuya about that—About thinking his words through before he says them. 

“Do you trust me, Chuuya?” 

“Chuuya, come with me—Take my hand, okay? I’ll keep you safe—” 

“Yeah,” he says, quietly. 

“Then know that I wouldn’t have signed the contract if I thought this would be a bad fit,” Verlaine says, with a sense of finality. 

In a perfect world, Verlaine’s opinion wouldn’t carry so much weight to it. His alpha brother wouldn’t be the one who got to decide whether or not some weirdo alpha could take him home and mate with him. At the same time, he also can’t imagine a world like that. 

It almost sounds terrifying. 

So he has no other choice, and he knows what happens next. 

As soon as he’s finished with his conversation with Verlaine, he’ll be taken to one of the outdoor baths to be washed and scrubbed thoroughly. Then, he’ll be dried off and dressed in nothing but a simple, sheer white robe and led to a room meant for only one purpose. 

The bath isn’t so bad—He’s had worse, and he’s gotten used to the house staff seeing him naked over the years, so there’s very little left to be embarrassed about. In fact, the bath is nice, because it’s warm and steamy, and it gives him a little bit of reprieve from the whirlwind he’s been through just this evening. 

But it’s all over way too soon for his liking. 

In the time it takes to blink, he finds himself kneeling on a large futon in the middle of a room, waiting. Waiting.  

When the door to the room slides open again, Chuuya doesn’t look up. He stares down at his hands placed over his own knees, his fingertips bunching the fabric of his robe ever so slightly. Footsteps draw closer and closer until someone else kneels in front of him, shifting the futon slightly as he settles into place. He doesn’t know what to say, so he waits for some sort of direction. 

And that comes only a moment later, in the form of Dazai’s long, gentle fingers pressing beneath his chin, directing his gaze upward. 

He looks the same as he did the other day, this time dressed in a nicely-fitting button down shirt that clings to his arms in a way that Chuuya can appreciate, at least aesthetically. 

“Are you nervous, Chuuya?” is the first thing he asks. 

“No.” A lie. 

“Hmm,” Dazai hums, satisfied with the response. “Have you done this before?” 

“Have I—Obviously not,” Chuuya scoffs, quickly reminded of everything about Dazai that annoyed him during their first encounter. “Everyone in the house is a virgin.” 

“Fascinating,” Dazai murmurs. “What do you do during heats, then?” 

He wants to hit the other man for asking him such a personal question, but then quickly reminds himself of the position he’s in—Freshly cleaned, ready to be mated.  

Ah, whatever. 

“Wouldn’t you love to know?” 

Dazai’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, studying Chuuya curiously, as if he’s noticed something for the first time. Whatever it is, he doesn’t say anything further. Instead, he changes the subject and lowers his voice. 

“Chuuya, I’ll give you a choice here,” he says, an odd tone in his voice. A choice? What choice could they possibly have in this situation, other than how much more time Dazai decides to spend beating around the bush before he gets down to business. 

Chuuya holds his gaze steady, unmoving. 

“I’ll give you your bond mark; I have to in order to take you home.” He states facts that Chuuya already knows—bringing him home unmarked leaves too much up to chance. “We can go through with it traditionally, I don’t mind. However, if you choose, I can bite you without giving you my knot.” 

Chuuya inhales sharply, his hand flying to his own neck involuntarily. As far as he knows, he doesn’t have to take a knot in order to form a bond. But doing so means significantly less pain. During sex, especially after the alpha’s knotted, a bite should be painless. Without that… 

“Are you—” 

“I’m serious,” Dazai says, his eyes scanning Chuuya’s face as if there’s something else he’s thinking about. 

He takes a moment to consider it. 

Does he want to lose his virginity like this? 

Before Dazai mentioned it a few seconds ago, he never really thought of there being any other option. What alpha in their right mind would pass on their god-given right to fuck and claim their omega like a piece of property? 

Apparently the alpha that would, would be Dazai. 

Chuuya doesn’t get it, and he’s also not sure if he should be offended. 

But he also wants to find out if he means it. 

“Perfect, I didn’t want your tiny knot anyway.” 

Dazai cracks a small smile. “Oh Chuuya, one of these days you might actually hurt my feelings if you keep this up.” 

“Yeah, right,” Chuuya rolls his eyes. 

“You should lay down.” Dazai's voice is lowered now, almost a whisper. His fingers move from his chin to his hair, gently brushing a strand behind his ear. 

For just a moment, Chuuya's eyes soften, losing their intensity from the smallest, most gentle touch. 

He hates Dazai. 

He does.

“Why?” he asks, back to challenging the man. 

“I figured you would want to be comfortable,” Dazai says, still unfazed by the way Chuuya talks to him. He wants to continue arguing with him, but at the same time he wants to just get this shit over with already. 

So he’s good this time. 

He lays back against the futon, frowning up at the ceiling, and waiting. When Dazai takes more than thirty seconds to do anything, he hoists himself back up onto his elbows, ready to shoot some more expletives his way. But then he notices that Dazai is staring.  

It doesn’t take much to figure out why: The change in position had left his robes parted slightly, and the angle invited the light of the room to illuminate the fact that the robe he wears is practically see-through. Feeling mildly victorious, Chuuya smirks. 

“Bet you’re reconsidering not forcing me onto your knot—” 

“No,” Dazai snaps, his voice harsh enough to make Chuuya jump. He blinks, staring at the alpha with wide eyes because what the hell? “No, I wouldn’t—Fuck, let’s just get this over with, okay?” 

Chuuya has thick skin—He’s had to. It really takes a lot to shake him up, but for whatever reason, Dazai’s sudden shift in tone makes him feel so small. Like he’s the tiniest ant in the world, plain and unspectacular, and a nuisance.  

“Okay,” he whispers, laying back again, his hands folded over his middle as he waits. 

This time, Dazai looms over him, brushing his hair away from his neck to fully expose Chuuya’s scent gland. And somehow that feels far more intimate than Dazai being able to see his entire pussy through his robe. 

He holds his breath as he feels the warmth of Dazai’s lips drawing closer and closer to that spot. Soft and tentative, Dazai presses a kiss into the skin and Chuuya shivers. 

“You smell nice,” Dazai whispers. 

Chuuya’s brain short-circuits at the compliment, wondering what the heck he means by that. What part of his scent does he like? Is it actually nice or is he just—

The sharp pinch of teeth sinking into his neck erases every thought from his mind in an instant as the pain starts to grow from a dull throb to an ache that sinks deeper into his bones with each passing second. His chest heaves and tears spring to his eyes because it only gets worse and worse because now he’s on fire. 

He tries to scream, but with Dazai’s vice-like hold on him, he can’t get anything out aside from a strangled sob that competes with every breath he takes. 

It’s too much. 

It’s too much.  

He should have just let Dazai fuck him, because now he feels like he’s fucking dying. Every nerve ending is ablaze, every bone threatening to crack. And then, when he’s sure he’s at his limit, his vision starts to go. 

Black…

Dazai stares down at the scene before him—from the fresh ring of teeth marks on his neck, blooming with his own blood—to the red that soaks through the scant robe that the omega wears. It feels like just a moment ago, Chuuya was rolling his eyes and cursing at him, and now…now he looks lifeless.  

What the fuck?  

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself as guilt starts to sink in. Did he do it wrong? Would it have been better somehow if he just— 

He reaches down to hold his fingertips just below his nostrils, relieved to feel the slightest tickle of breath. Thank fuck he’s alive. With that confirmed, he stands up and rushes to the door and frantically searches the long corridor for someone that can help. Thankfully, that orange-haired woman from before, Kouyou, emerges from one of the nearby rooms, her eyes wide with concern when she sees Dazai. 

“Something’s wrong,” he tells her, and she immediately follows him back to the room where Chuuya still lies unconscious on the futon. 

“What happened here?!” She exclaims, and Dazai does not like the sound of that. Because by that reaction alone, from someone who supposedly sets up matings every day for a living, he can confirm that this is not what was supposed to happen. 

“The bond, it—It took, I felt it, but he hasn’t woken up and I wasn’t expecting so much blood,” Dazai tells her, honestly. It’s not like he hasn’t seen spilt blood before. In fact, he’s probably seen far too much of it. But Chuuya—Chuuya is—

“He’s not supposed to exist in this world, you know?” Verlaine had said to him. “His parents’ lab was raided and they were persecuted for what they did, and as far as anyone is concerned, their most prized piece of research—their own child—was exterminated.” 

“So he’s dead? Legally.” 

“No, not dead....Erased.” 

Dazai watches, still frozen in place as Kouyou fetches some water and a damp cloth. She gets straight to work dabbing at Chuuya’s wound and cleaning the blood from his otherwise unmarred skin. After a few moments, she pauses and looks up at Dazai, her expression strange and unreadable. 

“What is it?” 

“I don’t— Look,” she says, inviting him to come closer. The cloth she holds is nearly soaked through with blood and water, and the spot on his neck is clean… But that isn’t what she wants him to see. When he looks more closely, his own eyes widen at the sight.

Those marks, the ones where his skin had been punctured and where he bled profusely, is already scarred over. Shiny and pink, like he’s had at least a couple of weeks to let it heal on its own. Dazai blinks, suddenly wondering if maybe he’d imagined the whole thing. 

But red still stains the cloth, the robe, the futon cover…All evidence of the sheer amount of blood loss that had just occurred. And somehow Chuuya is healed.  

Fucking hell.  

“I'll grab him a clean robe,” Kouyou says, and Dazai nods, still in a bit of a daze. 

Chuuya's eyes are still closed, strands of his hair sticking haphazardly to his face, still damp with sweat. Silently, Dazai takes one of the dry towels and gently pats it against his forehead. He's out cold, but the steady rise and fall of his chest is reassuring. 

For a moment there, he thought for sure he'd accidentally killed the guy. His investors would have loved that. 

Even though a scandal of that level would destroy his (dad's) company's reputation, it would also ruin his own life. No, everything he does has to be meticulous and planned. If he's going to ruin the company, it has to be in a way that's self-serving. Otherwise it's just pointless carnage. 

“Chuuya, what am I going to do with you?” He whispers, gently carding a hand through his hair. 

This had been a misstep. 

He got too carried away with the pleasure he'd take in manipulating the investors that he got cocky and landed himself in a legally binding, air-tight contract. Nakahara Chuuya is a remarkable omega, alright. 

Paul Verlaine had covered his bases thoroughly, ensuring that Dazai was backed into a corner, forced to take Chuuya as a mate. He's beautiful, witty, literally scientific perfection. 

And he's a ticking time bomb, sure to detonate and upend Dazai's life when he's least expecting it. 

“Here,” Kouyou says when she returns, holding up a new robe. This one seems to be made from a thicker material, and is blue instead of white. 

Dazai stays crouched where he is, watching as Kouyou unties the bloody clothes and pulls them away from him. Chuuya doesn’t respond to any of her jostling, still unconscious. 

It would be polite to look away, to respect Chuuya’s dignity by averting his gaze. Despite knowing this, Dazai can’t help but stare. He’d caught a glimpse of him earlier before biting him, but now that he’s fully on display…Dazai can’t help but be mesmerized by his beauty. His skin is soft, smooth, not a trace of imperfection to be detected anywhere. While his frame is petite, it’s hard not to notice the way his waist curves into his hips. 

His ogling is brought to an abrupt halt when Kouyou finally gets him covered up, tying his robes. 

“Is he…okay?” Dazai asks her. 

“Whatever you do, you must never take Chuuya to a hospital,” Paul Verlaine had said. 

“Never? How is that helpful? What if he gets hurt?” 

As if anticipating his response, Verlaine produces a small, folded-up piece of paper. “Once you’re settled, call this number. When someone answers, tell them you’re Nakahara Chuuya’s mate.” 

That tiny paper now weighs heavily in his shirt pocket, and Dazai realizes that they might not be able to wait until they’re settled before he calls the number Verlaine had given him. He’s not entirely sure who the line connects to, but he assumes it must be some sort of family physician. 

“He’s breathing normally from what I can tell,” Kouyou tells him. 

“Yeah,” Dazai agrees. “Should I wait for him to wake up?” 

To his surprise, Kouyou shakes her head. “Take him home and let him rest a while. Whatever happened must have just shocked his system. He’s worn out…and now that you’re bonded, it might make him a bit more at ease to wake up in a place with your scent.” 

“Well, I gotta say, this is certainly not how I imagined I’d be taking him home,” Dazai mumbles to himself, bending over so that he can scoop Chuuya into his arms bridal-style. The omega’s head rolls against his chest, his eyelids still shut. 

“My apologies, sir, this doesn’t usually happen—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dazai sighs. “This is what I signed up for, I suppose.” 

Kouyou's face contorts, conflicted. In the end, she bows politely and says, “Please take good care of him.” 

Dazai looks down at the sleeping omega, at how peaceful he looks…at the already-scarred teeth marks that form a halo around his scent gland. He's ethereal. 

His plan had been to mate the unruly omega, just as a jab at his investors, but then his ego and curiosity fused and got the best of him. Dazai still fully intends on running the company ragged, but he'll have to figure something else out…

If the wrong person finds out who or what Chuuya is…Dazai would have a lot more to worry about than a few unhappy investors. 

“I'll do my best.” 

Chapter Text

“I don’t understand why I have to keep meeting these dumb alphas,” Chuuya complained to Verlaine one day, after one particularly awful meeting. He sat on the ground outside, his legs swinging off the edge of the porch as he watched the sun set over rolling hills. When Verlaine doesn’t answer right away, he lets out another, more forlorn, sigh. 

“Everything happens for a reason, Chuuya,” he’d assured him. “How would I look, as your big brother, if I shipped you off to a mating house right away? I need to try my best to find a mate, that’s my duty to you, at least.” 

Chuuya rolled his eyes at that. 

At the time, he assumed he knew what Verlaine meant when he said that. That he was setting him up on stupid courting dates to protect his own pride as an alpha, even though what he really wanted to do was to send him away already. In Chuuya’s mind, that was why Verlaine never seemed to care if he was rude or abrasive when talking to any of them. 

It was almost like he wanted people to think Chuuya was unsuitable. 

—

The next time Chuuya opens his eyes, he’s looking up at a ceiling that he definitely doesn’t recognize. His head rests against a large, plush pillow, and he has a heavy blanket pulled right up to his chin, swaddling him in warmth. He blinks a few times, just to wash the groggy sleep from his eyes, before he attempts to sit up. 

The room he’s in is at least three times the size of the room he had at The Golden House, and the bed he sits up on is to scale. He looks around slowly, taking it all in piece by piece. 

The floors are made of wood, and there’s an ornate, yet soft-looking rug spread beneath the bed. There’s a plush, velvety red chair in the corner of the room with a throw blanket draped over the back of it. He counts three doors, but doesn’t know which one leads where. While all the furniture seems nice and neatly decorated, his attention is immediately taken from it all when he locks onto the windows that cover one of the walls. 

Large windows, covered with drapes the same color as the chair in the corner, light seeping through around the edges. 

The windows somehow serve as a haunting reminder that he has no clue where he is. 

What happened to him? 

The last thing he remembers is… Dazai claiming him. 

With a startled gasp, he looks around the room again, his eyes falling to a mirror by the chair. He scrambles out of bed and rushes over, just to get a look at himself. He brushes his hair aside and cranes his neck…

What the hell?

Just as he remembers, the mating bite is there, signaling a bond formed between himself and an alpha. But he also remembers that it hurt like a bitch and yet…the mark looks like it’s completely scarred over already, shiny and pink and neat.  

How long has he been out? 

He inspects himself again in the mirror, beyond his neck, to see that he’s dressed in a blue nightgown that stops about mid-thigh, and he doesn’t recognize it at all. Did someone change him? Other than that and the weird mark, nothing else seems out of place, so he marches over to the window and quickly pulls back the curtain. 

And he screams.  

He doesn’t mean to! And in hindsight, it’s probably a bit dramatic, but the reaction just rips from his throat like an instinct and he stumbles backwards as light floods the room. Panicked, he ends up back against the bed just in time for one of the three doors to burst open. 

But the person bursting in is also a stranger. A woman not much taller than himself, blonde hair, her eyes wide like she’s expecting the worst. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, immediately searching the room. “I heard screaming, are you okay?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” Chuuya scoffs, taking at least a little pleasure in the way she startles, caught off guard by his question. After only a moment though, she straightens up and nods politely. 

“Sorry, my name is Higuchi Ichiyo, it’s nice to meet you officially,” she says, with a small smile. “I’m Mr. Dazai’s assistant, he instructed me to keep an eye on you until you woke up.” 

“He couldn’t do it himself?” Chuuya glares at her. Not that he wants to see that idiot, but it would at least be nice if he could pretend like he had time to pay attention to him on his first fucking day in a new house. 

“He’s in a meeting, or else he would be,” she assures him. “Why did you scream?” 

“Oh,” Chuuya says, glancing back at the window. “I just…I didn’t realize…” 

His words get jumbled as they leave his lips and he’s suddenly not sure how to explain the jumpscare he got when he opened the window. Curious, he moves closer to the window and looks out again…and then down, down, down, at the rushing cars on the street directly below. Startled, he shuffles away from the window again. 

“I didn’t realize I was in the sky,” he says to her. It sounds sane in his head until he sees the way her expression contorts in confusion. 

“We’re…Okay I guess we technically are,” Higuchi says, looking out the window like she’s trying to see it from his perspective. “Have you ever been in a highrise before?” 

“Huh?” Chuuya asks, stupidly. “I’ve been on an airplane.” 

“That’s…not the same thing…” she mumbles, like she’s really trying to find a way around what she’s really thinking. 

Chuuya blinks at her. “When's Dazai coming back?” 

“Um, probably within the hour?” 

“Good, I'm gonna beat him up.” Chuuya chuckles to himself as he slams his fist into the palm of his other hand. 

“Well…okay? Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?” she asks nervously. This woman is odd, Chuuya can already tell. But he also isn't sure why she seems odd. But she stares at him like he has two heads and he can only assume it’s a problem with her and not the other way around.

She's a beta, clearly. (Most people are.) So he's not worried about her being one of…

He gasps as another thought occurs to him and Higuchi nearly chokes. 

“Does he have any other omegas? I'd like to speak with them,” he explains. 

“N-no, he doesn't,” Higuchi says. 

“Damn,” Chuuya mutters to himself, shaking his head. At least if he did have others, he'd be able to talk to them and get the scoop on what Dazai is actually like and all that jazz. 

Then again, he also likes the idea of being the only one. That feels special. 

“Where is all my stuff?” Chuuya asks her, changing the subject again. 

“Oh!” she says, brightening at the opportunity to actually answer one of his questions. “Over here in the closet.” 

Chuuya smirks and watches as she goes to one of the other doors. He’s expecting something similar to what he had at The Golden House—A small space with a single bar to hang things from, something like that. But then Higuchi steps into the room and disappears.

He gasps and follows her to the doorway, stopping in his tracks when he realizes this so-called closet is the size of another fucking room! Nearly the size of his old room actually, and holds a dresser and a vanity and another comfy-looking velvet chair. 

“This is a closet?” Chuuya questions. He’s seen storage closets this size—there was one at the house that was filled with mops and brooms and shit. 

“Yes, it’s for your clothing and such,” Higuchi explains, and then gestures to a few bags on top of the dresser. “Dazai had those ordered for you, since you didn’t come with much. If the sizes are off, just let me know and we’ll exchange them for you.”

Fascinated, Chuuya sits down in the chair (which is just as comfortable as it looks) and looks up at the racks, where his clothes from the house have already been hung with care. Though, it does seem rather bare here because the clothes don’t even take up half of the wall—and there are three walls he could potentially fill. 

“Wow,” Chuuya whispers. “This is mine?” 

“It is,” Higuchi tells him. “The bedroom is yours, including the closet and the bathroom. If there’s anything you need or that’s not to your liking, please let me know and I’ll do what I can.” 

“Really?” he mutters. “What bathroom?” 

“Oh, over here,” she says, showing him out of the closet and finally pulling open the third door. 

Chuuya marvels at the bathroom, too. Mostly at the large bathtub situated in the back corner of the room, that has steps leading up to it. He hurries over to the side and looks into it, taking note of the jets specifically. One of the bathtubs at the House had jets, and everyone always argued over who got to use it. After living there for a while, Chuuya had lost interest in it and just let all the newbies duke it out. But now that he has one that apparently belongs to him— He’s interested all over again. 

“This is incredible,” Chuuya says. “Dazai must really be loaded.” 

“Ahh, well, yeah,” Higuchi laughs awkwardly. “Do you know anything about him?” 

“I know that he’s an alpha, and that he’s annoying.” 

Higuchi nearly chokes as she tries to stifle her laughter. Chuuya frowns, because he’s not sure why she finds that funny. He’s serious. Dazai really is annoying. 

“Would you like to see the rest of the penthouse?” she asks. He stares at her, blankly, and she clears her throat. “The rest of the house?” 

“Yes, I would,” Chuuya nods. “I want to change first, though.” 

“Of course, I’ll wait outside the bedroom,” she tells him, and then quickly takes her leave. 

Once he's alone again, Chuuya moves back over to the window, this time allowing himself to look down for more than just a few seconds. The sight is…strange. He's seen movies with cities like the one laid out before him, but as far as he can remember, he's never been in one. 

Below him, the cars that zoom by look like little toys, far away and out of reach. He looks up and out at the rest of the city, at all the other buildings that stretch up to the sky. 

There isn't a rolling hill in sight. 

Chuuya swallows and heads to his closet, peering into the bags that Dazai had apparently left for him. The contents really are just a bunch of clothes that feel nice but look rather plain, which Chuuya is fine with. He opts for a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt. 

Before he leaves, he pauses and remembers Kouyou's parting words to him.

check your bags when you get home

Chuuya blinks and looks around the closet again, until his eyes fall to the simple backpack on the floor next to the dresser. He's had it for a long time—He arrived at The Golden House with that thing five years ago. 

He squats down and opens it up, dumping the contents on the ground: his nearly shredded magazines, the sex toys, and a few tubes of chapstick…But there isn't anything else. He checks every pocket three times over and still nothing. Is it possible that— Wait. 

For a moment, he freezes. 

Kouyou didn't say there would be something in the bag, just to check them. And once he realizes that, it becomes blatantly obvious that he's missing something. 

Quickly, he shoves the items back into the corner and marches out of the closet and over to the door that Higuchi had disappeared through. Just as expected, he finds her waiting outside for him in a dimly lit hallway. 

“Oh, there you—”

“Where are all my meds?” Chuuya asks, cutting right to the chase. Higuchi gives him a blank stare, like she might genuinely not know what he's talking about. 

“Your… meds?” She repeats. 

Before he has a chance to go off on her about the medication he had in his backpack that he's supposed to be taking, he hears the sound of a door opening and closing from somewhere down the hallway. He looks up, blinking, as a faint scent reaches his nose. 

Oak, rain showers, smoke…

“Bastard,” Chuuya mutters under his breath, stomping towards the scent. He's not sure how, but he knows exactly who the scent belongs to, even though he's never smelled it before. 

The end of the hallway turns a sharp corner to a large, marble-floored foyer. It's not like anything he's ever seen before, but he doesn't have time to fawn over it because he's more focused on the asshole in the business suit that's kicking his shoes off by the door. 

“You!” Chuuya shouts, pointing an accusing finger in the alpha's direction. 

“Oh, glad to see you're finally awake,” he says, his face annoyingly calm. 

“What did you do with all my fucking meds?” he demands to know. 

The way Chuuya sees it, he doesn't really care if he's being rude or forward; Dazai's already mated him so it's not like he's gonna toss him out just for talking back. (He's pretty sure he's not allowed to, either.) 

“Ahh, yeah, don't worry, I have them,” Dazai nods, like it's not a big deal. 

“Well, give them back,” Chuuya insists. And he hates the way Dazai's eyes light up at the command. 

“Hmm,” Dazai hums, reaching over to ruffle Chuuya's hair. “No can do, Chibi.” 

“What?!” Chuuya shrieks, not sure what he's more annoyed with—being told no, or the nickname that's clearly a jab at his height. 

“Don't worry, I'll still be giving you your medications. But I'll be holding onto them to make sure you take them,” he explains, having the audacity to turn and start to walk away from Chuuya. 

He stalks after him, though, not finished with their conversation by a longshot. 

“What the hell? I'm not a child,” Chuuya argues, only startling a little as the foyer opens up into a large living room with the biggest couch he's ever seen in his life. And he has a television. 

Chuuya has never lived in a house with a television, unless he counted the one in the common room back at his boarding school. It was a tiny thing that they watched movies on from time to time, only from the small collection that the  dorms happened to have on hand. 

The Golden House had a strict no-screen policy. And that never bothered Chuuya because he never really had access to one anyway. Besides, he kind of just assumed most people were in the same boat. 

And Dazai…well Dazai's television is huge. 

At least Chuuya can rationalize that Dazai is rich, so of course he has a TV. All rich people must have TVs, right? 

“Obviously I don't think that, or I wouldn't have taken you as a mate,” Dazai says, still unbothered. He cuts through the living room and towards another hallway and Chuuya moves quickly to keep up with him. 

He stops at the end of the hallway and pushes open a door. As soon as he does, Chuuya's nostrils flare because he's suddenly hit with even more of Dazai's scent. He stops and calms himself for a moment before following him into the bedroom. 

“Your brother gave me very clear instructions on administering your meds.” Dazai seems to have his own walk-in closet that is actually filled with racks of clothing, and motions for Chuuya to follow him. 

He complies without thinking, still with his mind set on harassing Dazai until he gives in. 

But then Dazai somehow slips past them and slams the door closed, shutting them both in the closet. Chuuya's heart nearly leaps out of his chest at the sound, suddenly hyper-aware that he's in an enclosed space with an alpha. An alpha that he's bonded with, yet is still very much a stranger. 

“What are you doing?” Chuuya demands to know. With the door shut, his head grows fuzzy, Dazai's scent heavy and concentrated. 

Dazai's expression doesn't change as he walks forward, boldly brushing a hand through Chuuya's hair. He flinches at first, his nerves standing on end at the contact. But after a moment or two, he softens and melts into his hand. 

“Are those the clothes I bought you?” Dazai asks, changing the subject completely. “They fit you well.” 

“I—” 

“Chuuya,” Dazai says again, his voice almost apologetic for some reason. 

“Huh?” 

“Sit down. Take your medicine.” 

—

“Chuuya must take his prescribed medication every day—And as his alpha, you must ensure that he takes it without fail,” Verlaine had explained, as Dazai studied the list of medications. 

Heat suppressants. 

Scent blockers. 

Birth control. 

“These all seem pretty standard, right? Can he get a prescription for any of these brands?” Dazai asked. There were three different heat suppressors on the list, and he assumed that they were suggestions or examples—

“He needs every medication on that list,” Verlaine clarified. Dazai's eyes widened almost involuntarily. 

He knew a little bit about the family business, and he took a few courses before he dropped out of pharmacy school, and that amount could quite literally kill someone—

“That's—” 

“If you don't, his scent will be out of control, quite literally detectable from kilometers away. Without suppressants, his heats won't stop unless he's impregnated—Do I need to continue?” Verlaine quirked an eyebrow and Dazai shook his head. “He's been taking his medication on his own at the house, with Kouyou bringing it to him daily. But the real world is less predictable, so you'll need to command him to do so.” 

“Command him? Isn't that illegal? Can't he just resist?” 

“Chuuya's condition makes him literally the perfect match for any alpha—He's not capable of resisting a command from anyone…That's the way he's been engineered.” 

“Still, if he did it just fine without commands while he was at the house, then why now?” Verlaine certainly gave him a lot of information, but it was hard to ignore the parts that seemed… like they didn't fit. 

“Like I said, the real world is unpredictable. There aren't armed guards and fortified walls at every turn…” 

Dazai had so many more questions. Too many to have possibly all been thought of and answered in the short time he spent with Verlaine. 

He'd just have to hope it was all enough. 

-

Dazai did what Verlaine told him to do. 

And he understands why he has to—It's for Chuuya's own safety. 

Yet there's something almost disturbing about how quickly the omega submits. 

Most omegas—especially one as headstrong as Chuuya is—would at least show some level of resistance, or an expression of discomfort. Commands are illegal for a whole list of various reasons, the bottom line being that they’re fucked up. Even Dazai, with his own storied past, has reservations against using them. 

Seeing Chuuya now, on his knees, his mouth hanging open in waiting, his pupils blown wide—It’s almost too much to stomach. 

With a hefty sigh, Dazai takes the medication from a safe and places each pill, one at a time, in Chuuya’s mouth and instructs him to swallow. He does so silently, and with ease, and when he’s done, Dazai kneels in front of him again. 

“You were supposed to make my life easier, not harder,” he mumbles to himself, while Chuuya stares back at him, his blue eyes vast enough to drown in. 

Either way, he’s sure he can get his plan back on track, this is just definitely not the detour he had expected. His fault for getting caught up in something so shiny and tempting. 

“All done, good job,” he tells him, effectively ending the command. 

Right away, Chuuya inhales sharply, his chest heaving as he sits up straight. He blinks a few times and glances around, like he has to remember where exactly he is. And then he turns back to Dazai and scowls.

“The fuck just happened?” Chuuya scoffs. 

“What do you mean?” Dazai asks, purposely obtuse. “You asked for your meds, I gave them to you, and that’s it.” 

“Oh, okay,” he mumbles, and something aches in Dazai’s chest at the way he responds. As if, maybe, it isn’t out of the ordinary for him to feel disoriented after taking it. 

“Are you hungry?” Dazai asks, changing the subject to something a little more light-hearted. Chuuya hoists himself back up into a standing position and stretches. 

“Yeah, actually, I’m fucking starving. How long was I out for? The last thing I remember is you biting me,” Chuuya explains. 

“Ah, yeah, that was four days ago,” Dazai says simply, watching all the color drain from Chuuya’s face in an instant. “Kidding, it was only last night.” 

“Asshole!” Chuuya scoffs. “Don’t joke like that!” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Dazai sighs, adding a nonchalant shrug. “You’re too cute, I can’t resist teasing you.” 

Chuuya’s jaw hangs open, his cheeks lighting up red at the back-handed compliment. Giving him a playful smirk, he pushes the closet door open again and strides back out into his bedroom. 

“Anyway, you asked if I was hungry—Where’s the kitchen? What do you usually like for breakfast?” Chuuya asks him, following him like a shadow. 

“Hmm? Why do you ask?” Dazai wonders out loud. 

“Well, I’m not gonna set myself up for failure on my first official day here by guessing what you wanna eat. How the hell am I supposed to know what you want?” Chuuya rambles on until it clicks in Dazai’s mind that for some reason, the omega intends to cook for him. 

Dazai stares at him a moment, studying him carefully as he thinks through the best way to approach the situation. For starters, he doesn’t seem to realize that it’s almost dinner time. But the more pressing concern is the way Chuuya just assumes that’s what he wanted. 

“I didn’t say you had to cook,” Dazai clarifies. “I wanted to take you on a date.” 

Chuuya scrunches up his nose like the idea disgusts him, and Dazai wants to laugh.  

God, this whole thing is so fucked up, isn’t it? 

“Outside?” Chuuya asks. He emphasizes his question by pointing towards the window when Dazai doesn’t answer him right away.  

“At a restaurant,” Dazai clarifies. 

Chuuya’s frown only deepens, and suddenly Dazai finds himself feeling even more confused. He’s pretty sure he got the whole run-down of who and what Chuuya is, but this reaction is anything but expected. 

“I’ve never been to a restaurant.” 

“Wait, what?” Dazai scoffs. He doesn’t mean to react so harshly, but the admission just catches him so off guard. Restaurants seem like such a mundane concept that he can’t quite wrap his head around the idea that someone has never been to one. “Never?” 

“Nope.” 

“But…You lived in France, they definitely have restaurants in France,” Dazai points out, and Chuuya just shrugs. 

“Yeah, so? I never went to any of them. What’s the point of going to a place that makes food when you have perfectly good food to make at home?” Chuuya explains, as if that isn’t the whole point of going out to eat. It’s like he’s not even acknowledging it as an option. 

“So that you don’t have to cook.” 

“Stupid,” Chuuya mutters. 

As much as he’d rather go out, it does occur to Dazai that maybe Chuuya isn’t ready for a night on the town. He was at the Golden House for five years, afterall. And as far as Dazai is aware, he didn’t leave the estate once that entire time. 

“Alright,” Dazai says, calmly. “Why don’t you cook me something nice for dinner, then?” 

“Oh, I will,” Chuuya fires back, like he's accepting a challenge. 

Dazai hasn't totally sorted out exactly how he feels about his current situation. He'd taken a mate on a whim and somehow ended up with this wild ball of fire named Chuuya. He happens to be just as intriguing as he is beautiful.

And twice as dangerous.  

Chapter Text

Dazai sits on a barstool, elbows resting against the island counter, watching Chuuya navigate the kitchen. It’s entertaining, to say the least. Especially now, as the omega struggles to hoist himself up on the counter, stretching to reach a bowl in one of the higher-up shelves. 

“If you need help to reach that, all you have to do is say the word,” Dazai sighs, unable to wipe the smirk from his own face. 

“I don’t need help! Shut up!” Chuuya barks back at him. Dazai chuckles and Chuuya spins around again, scowling even deeper this time. “If you don’t have anything useful to say, then go away.” 

“I don’t think I will, I’m enjoying the view,” Dazai hums, watching the omega short-circuit all over again before turning his back to him and reaching upwards again. 

“Um, excuse me, boss? I’m sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting…” Higuchi says in a small voice as she enters the kitchen area. She glances briefly at Chuuya, and then at the mess he’s already made of the kitchen. Any thoughts she has on the scene in front of her, she politely swallows and keeps to herself. 

“Mmm, you are interrupting, but go ahead. What’s up?” he asks, without taking his eyes off of Chuuya, who’s now standing on the countertop, victoriously plucking the bowl he’d been yearning for. 

“Ha! Got it. See? I didn’t need your help, asshole,” Chuuya scoffs. 

“He sure is…interesting,” Higuchi mumbles quietly. 

“Do you have a problem with my mate, Higuchi?” Dazai asks her, his tone still friendly, but definitely dropping down a level. She sucks in a sharp breath and shakes her head fervently. 

“No! No, not at all—” 

“Good, good,” Dazai smiles. “Now what did you need to tell me?” 

“Ah, you have a visitor? I didn’t know if I should tell the doorman to let him up or not?” Higuchi explains, her voice more wary than it normally is. 

“And who is this visitor, exactly?” 

“It’s…uh…” she stumbles, and Dazai can tell that it isn’t because she doesn’t know the person’s name, but that she knows how Dazai might react to hearing said person’s name. There aren’t many people who would warrant that reaction and who would be bold enough to show up at Dazai’s home unannounced. 

“Well?” 

“Akutagawa Ryuunosuke,” she says quickly. 

He had prepared for that exact name to leave her lips, and yet he still feels himself stiffening when he hears it. 

Akutagawa.

His second-in-command. 

The man that probably should have ended up owning the company in the first place, what with Dazai’s own blatant lack of experience in the field. 

Also, though Dazai doesn’t like to be reminded of the fact, his former childhood best friend. 

And technically, legally, his brother.

“Just let him up so we can get it over with,” Dazai groans. 

“Alright, okay,” Higuchi says quickly, before hurrying off again. 

“Chuuya, dear, just a heads up there's about to be another alpha in the room.” 

“Hah? Who cares?” 

Dazai chuckles to himself, but his smile quickly fades when he catches the scent. He swears Akutagawa's pheromones are like rotting flesh these days. 

“So the rumors are true,” a sly voice comments as he enters the space. Dazai casts a sideways glance at the intruder and curses under his breath before flashing a bright smile. 

“What rumors? I sent a memo to the entire company—It’s not a rumor if you get the information straight from the source,” Dazai explains. As soon as he got the paperwork squared away, he’d sent out the memo to let every nosey asshole that worked for him that yes, it’s true, he’s finally taken a mate. (So they can get off his ass about it.) 

Part of him was hesitant at first. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be so open about Chuuya’s existence. 

But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense for him to carry on exactly as he normally would. If he was too secretive or serious about the ordeal, it could raise suspicions. Besides, it’s not like anyone would recognize Chuuya now, or know his name. According to Verlaine, he didn’t even have a name at the lab where he grew up. 

He was just a number. 

009.

Dazai isn’t sure what part of that number is more unsettling—The idea of reducing a human life down to a mere number, or the fact that it implies that there were at least eight others before him. 

“The hell are you staring at?” Chuuya scoffs, this time his attitude directed towards Akutagawa. “Who is this creep?” 

“Disgraceful; do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” Akutagawa scoffs. Dazai’s chest tightens with the urge to come to Chuuya’s defense, but he’s beaten to the punch. 

“Obviously I don’t, or I wouldn’t have asked,” Chuuya fires back. 

“It’s true, he did ask, you should pay better attention, Akutagawa,” Dazai hums, satisfied with his omega’s response. If Dazai really wanted to, he could scold Chuuya for being rude to guests, or for being rude to him. But the truth of the matter is that he is far too entertained by the omega’s attitude, and will continue to enable it. 

“My name is Akutagawa Ryuunosuke,” he grits, clearly already annoyed and hopefully thinking about leaving altogether. “Father would be rolling in his grave if he could see this.” 

“Would he?” Dazai hums. 

If he was feeling particularly cruel, he might point out to Akutagawa that the man he’s referring to is Dazai’s father, not his. The only reason his father had chosen him as a charity case when they were kids was because he’d been looking for some good PR stunt to pull—Apparently rescuing a pair of orphans off the street and pretending to raise them as his own was a hit with all of the national media outlets. But behind closed doors, it was nothing to be proud of. 

The man still neglected his own son, still hired nannies to take care of Akutagawa and his sister without spending a lick of time with them. But Akutagawa was always blinded by his father’s “good deed” and felt forever indebted to him. 

When they were kids, they both got along well. They really were best friends, and Akutagawa was like his shadow, following him around wherever he went. It wasn’t until they were in highschool that they started drifting apart. 

That was when Akutagawa started doubling down on his studies, eager to learn the family business and please their father. Meanwhile, Dazai…well, Dazai had already been introduced to the family business and he wanted no part of it. It’s hard to support a company that runs on a platform of helping people and contributing to health and wellness while doing shady things to make people depend on them behind the scenes. 

He could have spoken up, sure, but who would believe him, or even let him live to see the light of day if he were to let it slip that Tsushima Pharmaceuticals had ties to the mafia? 

“Our old man wanted me to be the strong family man that he was, you know? I think he’d be proud of this development,” Dazai says simply. “Continuing on his legacy as CEO, and now I have a mate to help continue that line for future generations to come. Dear old dad would be so overjoyed, he’d have a heart attack all over again.” 

“Future generations, my ass,” Akutagawa mutters under his breath. “I don’t know where you found this omega, but anyone with a decent family would have the decency to show some respect.” 

“Hey, watch it,” Chuuya scolds, swinging a ladle in his direction. (What the hell is he even making?)

“Exactly what I mean. Gin’s finishing school taught her manners; she would have been expelled with a mouth like that,” he explains. Dazai rolls his eyes, because he knows that Gin absolutely would lose her shit on anyone, regardless of secondary gender, if she was pushed too far. 

Lucky for Gin, she never wanted to go to a mating house anyway. 

“Chuuya was at the top of his class,” Dazai says. Clearly his scores weren’t based on his personality, but Dazai has already learned that Chuuya is at least smart enough to give people what they want, as long as it benefits him. He’s very clever in that sense. 

“Damn right I was,” Chuuya huffs “And if you wanna talk about bad manners, you’re the one barging into another alpha’s home and spreading your stupid pheromones everywhere.” 

This time, he waves the ladle in the air, like he’s trying to clear out a stench. Dazai has to hold back a laugh at that one. Akutagawa stares, unable to formulate a response when Chuuya has so boldly insulted his scent. It’s embarrassing to say the least. 

“Chuuya is busy making me dinner, by the way. Was there something you actually needed, or did you just come over here to whine and stink up the place?” Dazai asks. 

Akutagawa’s expression morphs into something a little more sullen, and Dazai doesn’t need anything more than that to understand. 

“In that case, let’s leave Chuuya to his work and we’ll talk in my office.” 

“Perfect.” 

His home office is near his bedroom, secured and fully sound-proofed. Just by looking at it, no one would be able to tell, but that’s only because Dazai’s connections are good at what they do. 

“Seriously, where did you get that omega?” Akutagawa asks, once they’re behind closed doors. “I thought you went to The Golden House.” 

“I did,” Dazai says, a bit smug.

“That place is extremely traditional, I’m surprised that he wasn’t kicked out,” he murmurs. Dazai doesn’t let it show, but he hates that Akutagawa is already so observant, because this whole thing is way too complicated already. 

“Maybe so, but the bottom line is that he was the most interesting one I could find,” Dazai says with a shrug. “Do you honestly think I would have been compatible with a meek housewife that agreed with everything I said?” 

“No, I suppose not. Maybe he can help knock some sense into that thick skull of yours,” Akutagawa mutters. 

“Alright, enough about Chuuya, just tell me what the problem is and get it over with.” 

Akutagawa gives him an odd look, and then finally sighs. 

“Tachihara caught this guy last night,” Akutagawa says, pulling a photograph out of his pocket and handing it over to Dazai. It’s a grainy snapshot taken from a public security camera, but clearly shows a hooded man on the move. 

“So?” Dazai groans. “I told you I don’t want to be involved with this shit if I don’t have to be.” 

“Well that’s too bad, because father chose you to be in charge,” Akutagawa seethes. “You need to be involved, lest you want to make an enemy of the mafia. You know just as well as I do that it’s better to have them as an ally.” 

“If only that fucking asshole hadn’t left his messes to us…” 

“He did his best—”

“He didn’t do shit,” Dazai snaps. “I’m not fucking talking about him, okay? Just tell me who the hell this guy is.” 

“I don’t know who he is unfortunately…But there’s a new drug on the black market,” he explains. 

“ Gemstone? I already know about it,” Dazai sighs. “They’ve been dealing it to a few buyers, but it hasn’t really spread.” 

“Yes, however, this man was set to go through with a deal that Tachihara intercepted. And he was able to get his hands on the drug . ” Akutagawa’s words finally seem a bit more interesting. Dazai shifts his weight and crosses his arms over his chest as he thinks. 

He’d first heard about the drug maybe a month ago, but none of their contacts with the mafia claimed to know anything about it. If it had been them, it would have meant that they’d gotten a new supplier and were planning on screwing over Tsushima Pharmaceuticals in the process. 

“Oh?”  

“The team at the lab dissected it and determined that it may be intended for omegas in order to induce heat cycles on command.” 

Dazai wrinkles his nose at the idea. How barbaric. Given the current state of healthcare, Dazai can’t think of a single reason anyone would need a drug like that from the underground unless their intentions were for a specific purpose.

“As if people don’t hold enough power over omegas already?” Dazai scoffs. Maybe it’s his own conscience talking, still heavy with guilt after commanding Chuuya earlier. 

“You know just as well as I do that those who crave power are never satisfied,” Akutagawa says, grimly. “But, believe it or not, that’s not the part you should be concerned with. The compound used was derived from one of our own labs.” 

“Well fuck,” Dazai mutters. “Which one?” 

“Not sure, it’s used for many different formulas, but it’s enough to insinuate that we may have a bigger problem on our hands…That one of our own is leaking our formulas to an underground, unknown dealer.” 

“Let’s…Let’s lay low for now…if we cause too much of a stir over this, whoever it is could get spooked and destroy any evidence. We need to let them think they’re getting away with it for the time being,” Dazai suggests calmly. “Make sure Tachihara keeps his damn mouth shut, okay?” 

“Easier said than done, but sure,” Akutagawa agrees. 

“Was there anything else?” Dazai asks him. 

“No, but as acting CEO, you should play dumb. I was never here, and you have no knowledge of this, alright?” Akutagawa insists. 

“I’m not acting CEO, I’m officially–”

“I do not care, Dazai,” he groans, moving towards the door and disabling the lock. “Good luck with that unruly omega of yours. Hopefully he doesn’t embarrass you more than you would have on your own.” 

“Oh come on, he's not that bad,” Dazai says playfully. “You don't even know him yet. He's surprisingly skilled.” 

“Hmm I'll have to take your word for it,” he mutters. And with that, he’s finally walking away from the office space. Dazai lets out a long sigh, rubbing at his temples as he tries to put himself back into a better headspace. 

Sometimes, he wishes he’d declined his father’s offer, or that he’d written over the rights to the company to Akutagawa. So far, not a damn thing seems to be going his way, and it’s already becoming far too much of a headache. Fuck, maybe he should have stayed out of this shit. If he had, he’d be snorting cocaine on a beach somewhere, content to live out the rest of his days with the smaller (though only in relativity) lump sum of an inheritance he would have received. 

Hell, maybe he’d be dead already. 

But no, he just had to let his resentment get the better of him. Now, he’s dealing with a potential enemy that not even the mafia is aware of, on top of taking care of a mate who is far more high-maintenance than Dazai ever could have anticipated.

Even given his circumstances, Chuuya is odd. He talks like he’s so knowledgeable about the world, yet in twenty-five years, he’s never once been to a restaurant. Higuchi even let it slip a while ago that he’d asked if Dazai had other omegas in the house. It would be a lot easier to chalk that up to Chuuya being stuck on an estate for five years , but polyamorous mating was outlawed almost twenty years ago. It has something to do with research showing that an alpha creating multiple bonds often had negative health effects for the omegas. 

Maybe Chuuya spent most of his time in another country, but he’s pretty sure laws in Europe are the same in that regard. 

Back in the kitchen, he finds Chuuya bent over a soup pot on the stove, glaring into it as if he’s trying to intimidate his concoction into cooking. The sink is littered with dishes, but the counters are already cleaned off and it looks a lot less chaotic in the kitchen than it did just a little while ago. 

“Soup?” Dazai asks, stepping into the kitchen and leaning back against the counter next to his omega. Chuuya looks up at him, his gaze sharp but not quite a scowl…If anything, he just seems calm. But even when calm, his eyes pierce right through Dazai’s soul somehow. 

“Yeah, is there a problem with that?” Chuuya mumbles. 

“Nope, I like soup just fine,” Dazai assures him. Chuuya doesn’t say anything, just sets the lid on top of the pot to cover it and steps back. Smiling, Dazai holds out his arms in the omega’s direction. 

“What?” he asks, seeming almost surprised that Dazai would make such a gesture. 

“I’m your mate, can’t I ask for a hug?” he cocks his head to the side, studying Chuuya curiously. “Chuuya, tell me something?” 

“Maybe.” 

“What do you think your role is as my mate?” It’s a simple question, one that most people should find easy to answer…and, well, Chuuya does answer easily, but—

“I’ll perform the household duties and then bear a child for you when you see fit. In exchange for your protection.” 

Oh, Chuuya.  

Dazai is not an emotional person; at least he’s never considered himself to be one. He didn’t shed a single tear when his own father died, and he’s always found it easier to simply not care about things. In this world, the world his father created for him, caring was a weakness.  

And yet, when he looks at the omega in front of him—vibrant, beautiful, strong— and hears him say that he’s resigned himself to his fate as an alpha’s servant, he can’t help the sudden pang of sadness in his chest. The tightness in his throat that seems to choke him from the inside out. 

“Well, I’m your alpha, don’t I get a say?” Dazai asks, swallowing down whatever unknown emotions he’s suddenly feeling. Chuuya stares back at him, a quizzical look on his face as the gears start to turn over in his mind. 

“Yeah.” He finally agrees, and Dazai wants to be sick. 

Still, he holds out his arms again, and though hesitant, Chuuya finally steps forward and awkwardly leans into him, his hands flat against Dazai’s abdomen while his cheek presses against his chest. With the omega so close, his head quickly fills with his scent, with soft notes of lavender, jasmine, and golden amber. 

Dazai closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Chuuya, holding him tight. The omega softens just a little bit, but still clearly feels a little weird about being hugged, so Dazai doesn’t keep him there for too long. When he lets go, Chuuya steps back into his own space quickly, his eyes wild, like he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say or do after a gesture like that. 

Kicked open his legs and showed off his whole pussy before they’d bonded, and yet a hug is what leaves him speechless. Just when he thinks he’s starting to figure Chuuya out, he ends up shrouded in mystery all over again. 

Paul Verlaine claimed to have given him a complete and comprehensive summary of everything he needed to know about Chuuya. It’s only the first official day of the two of them living together, and Dazai is already realizing that he should have asked so many more questions. 

And now…

Well, now he has no way of contacting Verlaine. 

Dinner is good, but Dazai isn’t particularly surprised by that. Given Chuuya’s upbringing it makes sense that he would know his way around the kitchen, even if his methods are a little more chaotic than they should be. 

He insists on cleaning up all of the dishes and vehemently rejects Dazai’s offer to help, so he ends up sitting there again, just hopelessly gazing at the other man. 

“I’m done with the dishes,” Chuuya says, after a while. Dazai blinks and straightens up, not even aware of how much time had passed since he first sat down. 

“What would you like to do now? What do you usually do in your free time—and don’t say taxidermy, because I didn’t believe that for a second.” 

“I didn’t say anything about taxidermy,” Chuuya scoffs. “That was you.” 

“Oh, well, semantics,” Dazai sighs, shaking his head. “Seriously, what do you usually do?” 

“Uh,” Chuuya says, like he’s stumped. Either that, or he doesn’t want to tell Dazai what his interests are, which is equally intriguing. 

“Let me rephrase—This house is just as much yours as it is mine. The only place that’s off-limits to you is my office.” 

Chuuya stares, his gaze flickering briefly behind Dazai…towards the living room. Dazai follows his gaze and then raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to just ask. With such a fiery personality, he should have no problem just telling Dazai what he wants to do…right? It’s so strange how many holes there seem to be in Chuuya’s personality. 

Or maybe they aren’t holes at all. Just…peculiar inconsistencies. 

“I wanna watch TV,” Chuuya says, in a small voice. Dazai brightens. That’s something.

“Sure, no problem. What do you want to watch?” 

Silence again. “What do you have?” 

Now it’s Dazai’s turn to be stumped. “I mean, I have every streaming service there is, so if you just tell me what you like, I can find something.” 

“I…I like…movies?” Chuuya says, his voice sounding strange as he tries to explain. “There’s this one that’s… I don’t remember what it was called. There was a girl who thought she was a beta, but then one day met an alpha and they fell in love and it turned out she was an omega all along and they got married.” 

Dazai racks his brain to try and think of what movie that could possibly be. (It’s a rather generic, albeit old-fashioned, romance trope.) 

“Not sure, but it sounds like a romance. So why don’t I just choose something, and you can go shower if you haven’t already.” 

“I haven’t,” he confirms. He stands there for another moment, like he’s a little unsure, but then turns on his heel and marches towards his bedroom. 

If Dazai’s being honest, he would much rather have Chuuya sleep in his own bed—it would be easier to keep an eye on him that way. (And it would be so nice to just breathe in that soft, cozy scent while he sleeps.) But given his odd reaction to a hug, Dazai decides it’s best not to push the envelope. 

Before he bothers with the movie situation, he heads back to his office and locks the door behind him. In the top drawer of his desk, he finds a hidden compartment, removes it, and finds the card with the phone number for someone he assumes is a family physician. Someone he’s supposed to call once they’re settled in. 

He’s not sure if he’s settled in… But he’s definitely more than ready to have a few more questions answered. 

He pulls out one of his older cell phones. Not quite a burner phone, but not something he has that’s tied to anything else in his personal or professional life. Something he’s always kept just in case.

The number connects and rings three times before someone picks up. 

“...Hello?” The sound quality isn’t great, but he can tell that it’s a woman’s voice on the other line. “Who are you and how did you get this number?” 

Dazai’s lips curl into a grin. “Well, hi. I’m Dazai Osamu, I’ve recently taken Nakahara Chuuya as a mate.” 

He’s not sure what he’s expecting as far as a reaction—he doesn’t even know who the hell he’s calling—But he isn’t expecting the way the person immediately hangs up. Caught off guard, he stares at the phone for a moment, processing and hoping that it’s just a dropped call. Quickly, he calls the number again and—

We’re sorry, but the number you’ve dialed is no longer in service.

What the hell?

How could she have disconnected that fast? Who the fuck is this person?! 

He startles when his other phone starts to ring. His personal phone. 

-RESTRICTED CALLER-

There’s no way…

“Hello?” he answers, tentatively. 

“Dazai Osamu, huh? Clearly we need to work on your tact—Going around and giving your full, given name to a complete stranger is just asking for trouble.” This time, the voice that answers is significantly less feminine, but still sounds surprisingly young. Just who the heck is he talking to, then? 

“Is this not a doctor?” Dazai asks, feeling a little silly for even asking a question. 

“Am I the doctor? God, no. Can I set you up with a house visit? Sure. We just need to establish a few ground rules first.” 

Dazai should start keeping track of every time the same thought passes through his mind: 

What the hell did I just get myself into?

Chapter Text

Dazai is weird.  

That’s what Chuuya initially thought when he first met the alpha, and it’s what he still thinks now. Even as he sits on the opposite end of the same couch, while a shockingly colorful movie plays on the screen in front of him. 

And yet he finds his dislike of the other man quickly fading into something a little less hostile. He’s clearly done everything the right way, just as Chuuya had always expected things to be done. He chose Chuuya, was vetted by Verlaine, and mated him before taking him home…And now he’s living with Chuuya in this very nice (though strange) place and has given him his own room and clothes…It’s perfect, right? 

It’s supposed to be perfect. 

As the best omega, he should be sliding into his role perfectly, blowing everyone away with how amazing he is, and instead he’s left feeling an ever-present sense of dread. Nothing has jumped out at him as particularly bad, it’s just this weird, ominous feeling that the other shoe is about to drop at any moment.

He’s never watched anything on a TV as big as the one in Dazai’s living room. He certainly hasn't watched anything like the movie that plays, either. According to Dazai, it's a romantic comedy, and features a female omega who owns a bakery. Chuuya made the joke that it seemed more like a fantasy, because in what world would an omega be allowed to have a job?

Dazai didn't laugh. 

Whatever. 

Despite the absurdity of the premise, Chuuya still watches it, finding the romance aspect to be strange yet weirdly comforting. He would never admit it out loud, but Chuuya really likes the idea of falling in love. It would be nice to have someone who stays by his side simply because they want to and because they adore him. 

But it's silly. 

Stupid, even. 

Because that's not the way the world works, is it? 

“Did you like the movie?” Dazai asks him once the credits start to roll. Chuuya stares at him again, his mouth open as he tries to find the words to answer him with. 

Dazai's expression is hard to read. He's more relaxed than he was earlier in the day—dressed in pajama pants and a t-shirt instead of a suit—and the glass he holds in his hand is almost empty. When Chuuya had first come out of the shower, Dazai asked him if he minded if he drank, which was an odd thing to ask. Chuuya offered to get it for him, but Dazai refused and told him to sit.  

It’s all kind of frustrating. 

Chuuya had been so sure of the kind of guy Dazai was when they first met, but now he really isn’t sure anymore. Lots of rich alphas go to the Golden House to find mates so that they can carry on a respectable lineage, or whatever the fuck, and they would go there specifically because they could trust the training that the omegas there had been vetted for. 

Maybe Chuuya is a little loud and little (a lot) disrespectful, but he’s very good at doing the things that are expected of him as an omega. In fact, there aren’t really any other things that he is good at, so he’s kind of at a loss here. He’d been under the impression all along that his life as a housewife would be pretty similar to his life at the house—That he’d do chores and cook meals and serve tea and then at the end of the day, he’d go back to his room and hide away, out of sight. During his heat, he’d offer himself to his alpha, and the alpha would decide if he wanted to give Chuuya his knot. 

It’s simple, really. 

Why the hell does Dazai have to make things so damn difficult? 

“Chuuya, I asked you a question,” Dazai speaks up again, this time setting his empty drink aside and fully turning towards him. Chuuya knits his brow together, realizing that he’d let his mind wander off so far that he’d forgotten to answer. 

“It was weird.” 

“I guess it was a little cliche, huh?” Dazai chuckles. He pulls one leg up onto the couch as he faces him, leaning one arm against the back of the couch. Chuuya stares at him for a moment, taking note of the way his brown eyes look softer in the dim light of the living room. At least he managed to get stuck with an alpha who’s clearly very handsome. He doesn’t have to like the guy to find him attractive, right? Not that it really matters anyway. 

“I don’t think that’s the word I’d choose to describe it,” Chuuya says, after considering his words carefully. “I think it’s a little ridiculous, actually.” 

“You said you liked romance,” Dazai sighs. “Oh well, we’ll find something you like eventually.” 

Chuuya isn’t really sure what the alpha means by that, but he doesn’t ask, either. 

“I like romance if it’s at least a little bit believable.” 

Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything else. 

As soon as he says it, Dazai’s expression changes again. Back to that dark, hard-to-read look that makes Chuuya feel smaller than he already is. 

“Well, I’m going to bed,” Chuuya says, quickly getting up from the couch as a way to escape Dazai and his confusing reactions. As soon as he stands and tries to move away, Dazai’s hand reaches out and grabs his own. 

He doesn’t grab hard. It’s a gentle tug that Chuuya could easily pull away from if he wanted to, but he still stops and frowns at the alpha. 

“Hold on, I’m not done talking to you,” Dazai says. He doesn’t sound mad, but Chuuya still doesn’t understand what emotion he is feeling, and that’s almost more intimidating. Actually, it would be better if Dazai just yelled at him or told him point- blank when he was doing something wrong. 

He doesn’t like having to wonder. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Chuuya asks him. “It’s bedtime, isn’t it?” 

“Well, yeah, but you just woke up a few hours ago, didn’t you?” Dazai reminds him. Chuuya rolls his eyes and yanks his hand back. “It’s your first night here—Well, your first conscious night here, I thought we’d spend some time together.” 

Chuuya gives him a skeptical look and takes a quick glance behind him towards the hallway that leads to his bedroom. He lets out a long sigh. 

“You don't have to pretend to like me,” Chuuya says, holding his gaze firm and strong as Dazai leans back and runs a hand through his hair. He seems exasperated by Chuuya's words. 

“I guess I just don't really get it,” Dazai sighs, then sits up again, resting his elbows against his knees. “Do you know why I chose you as a mate?” 

Chuuya groans. “Because you're a rich nepo baby that just had to have the most expensive thing on the menu?”

That at least earns a chuckle from Dazai. 

“It would seem that way, but no,” Dazai says, shaking his head. “It's because I find you intriguing. You're beautiful, bold…someone I'd like to get to know.” 

“You're fucking weird,” Chuuya mutters. 

“Maybe so,” Dazai shrugs. “I just want to know more about my mate. We're stuck with each other now, right? Honestly, I would have just tried to meet someone at a bar the normal way, but apparently no one wants to invest in a company run by an unmated alpha, so time was of the essence.” 

Something about what he says isn't…it's not right. And Chuuya can't place it, or rather, he doesn't want to. That's impossible. 

“Okay? I still don't see why it matters,” Chuuya scoffs. 

“Didn't you ever talk to other omegas about how they ended up at the house? I mean, you were there for five years,” Dazai says, and he sounds more like he's talking to himself, mulling over his thoughts out loud. 

Chuuya isn't sure why, but he suddenly feels nervous. Like something is wrong and he needs to get out of here and end this stupid conversation. 

“I don't want to talk about this,” Chuuya insists. 

“About what? Yourself?” Dazai asks, blinking. 

“You already fucking bought me, why does it matter? You ask me too many damn questions!” Chuuya shouts. He doesn't mean to shout, but the response just rips from his chest like it's an automatic and visceral reaction. 

Dazai's eyes widen slightly as he stares. He softens a bit, and then has the nerve to look sad. 

“Fine, another time,” Dazai mumbles. “You can go to bed or whatever.” 

For some reason, getting his way doesn't feel as great as it usually does. Maybe because they're mated, and Chuuya can feel the way his scent swirls and sours with disappointment. He clearly does have feelings, and Chuuya just hurt them. 

“Okay,” Chuuya grits out, ready to leave. 

“Just so you know, we're going out tomorrow morning. You have a doctor's appointment.” 

“The doctor can't come here?” Chuuya asks. That's what always happened at the house and back in France. 

“Nope,” Dazai says, popping the p with a sense of finality. 

“But—”

“I'm the alpha, aren't I?” he argues, a bitter edge to his voice. Chuuya doesn't like this side of Dazai, and it has him so flustered that he all but runs back to his room and locks the door behind him. 

—

Dazai doesn't sleep that night, and by the time the morning rolls around, he's still in a bad mood. No, actually he's in a worse mood due to his lack of sleep. 

Not that that's anything new. 

Maybe it isn't fair for him to be so annoyed with Chuuya. Clearly he has some weird, preconceived notions of what it means to take someone as a mate, and it isn’t his fault. 

At the same time, Dazai paid eight- hundred million and signed the most ridiculous NDA he's ever seen just to get to know him. It's insane—No one in their right mind would put everything on the line just to take an omega. But Dazai was weakened not only by the mystery of it all, but also just by Chuuya himself. 

He'd always thought of mating houses as stupid. Just a way for upper-class freaks to pretend like they value tradition, but in reality they're just assholes who can't get laid on their own. And he knows that the omegas in those places are typically also the offspring of upper-class freaks, brainwashed into complacency and all that shit. 

Yes, that is how his own parents met. Yes, his point still stands. 

He expected Chuuya to have been through the same brainwashing bullshit, but whatever is going on with him is clearly way more fucked up than that. 

And Dazai did not sign up for this. 

Okay, so he literally signed up for it, but that's not the point. 

After mulling over all throughout the night, Dazai has come to the conclusion that his infatuation with the omega is just that—An infatuation. A fleeting desire for something fresh and novel. 

Really, it should be a blessing in disguise that Chuuya doesn't want to indulge his delusions, because that gives him the perfect opportunity to back off and concentrate on the task at hand: Running this god damn company into the ground.

“Where's Chuuya?” Dazai asks Higuchi when he emerges from his room. She's waiting in the kitchen after letting herself in. The beta looks up and gives him an apologetic look. 

“I tried—” 

“Fuck, it's too early for this shit,” he grumbles, marching down the hall and stopping at Chuuya's bedroom. He doesn't hesitate before knocking loudly on the door. 

“I'm sleeping!” Chuuya's voice is muffled through the door, but Dazai can hear him loud and clear. 

“We have to leave soon.” Dazai reminds himself to stay calm, that he can't take it out on Chuuya. 

“Tell the doctor to come here!” Chuuya shouts back. 

Dazai curses under his breath and pulls the key off of the ledge above the door and unlocks it, letting the door swing wide open. 

“What the hell?!” Chuuya shouts, sitting up in bed and pulling the covers up with him. 

He’d come in here fully ready to get onto Chuuya about still being in bed despite the fact that Higuchi’s been trying to follow Dazai’s orders to get him up and ready to go. But he’s very quickly distracted by the fact that, even though he’s covering himself with the blankets, his shoulders and chest are both completely bare. He stutters for a second before collecting himself. 

“Why are you still in bed? Higuchi told you—” 

“I don’t want to go,” Chuuya cuts him off, his sharp blue eyes boring into him. His face is framed by a mess of copper curls sticking every which way and fuck, he’s so cute.

Dazai clears his throat. 

“We’re going,” he says. 

“No.” 

“No?!” he sputters, ready to explode on the spot. He can exert his authority all he wants but what the hell is he supposed to do if Chuuya just outright refuses him regardless? It’s not like he can just fucking carry him out of bed. Veraline would probably suggest using a command, but Dazai sure as hell isn’t doing that unless he absolutely has to. Though frustrating, this does not seem like a dire enough situation for it to be necessary. 

“Tell the doctor to make a house visit,” Chuuya says. 

Dazai narrows his eyes. Technically, they will make house visits in the future, but the man on the phone was very clear about needing to meet at a nondescript location beforehand. 

“No.”

And Chuuya just shrugs and lays back down. “Then I’m not going!” 

“Why not?!” Dazai groans, exasperated. He sits down at the foot of Chuuya’s bed and lets out a deep sigh, quickly trying to come up with a different approach because clearly the whole authoritative alpha bit isn’t working. 

“Because I don’t…I don’t want to, okay?” Chuuya scoffs, pulling the covers fully over his head and hiding himself from Dazai. 

Yesterday, Higuchi had told him that Chuuya screamed when he looked out the window, and thought that maybe he was afraid of heights or something. However, given Chuuya’s staunch refusal to step foot outside the apartment, Dazai’s starting to wonder if height isn’t what freaked him out. 

It would make sense, wouldn’t it? As far as Dazai knows, Chuuya lived in the middle of nowhere in Europe for most of his life, and then was shipped off to a strict, traditional boarding school. To top it all off, when he was at The Golden House, he’d stayed within the walls of the estate for five years. 

So no, of course Chuuya isn’t afraid of heights. 

He’s afraid of everything else that’s outside. 

The unknown. 

“Chuuya, I know you’re scared, but—” 

Immediately, Chuuya sits back up, this time letting the blankets fall to his lap to reveal that he isn’t wearing anything at all. Dazai swallows thickly and does his best to keep his eyes on Chuuya’s face.

“I’m not fucking scared!” Chuuya fires back. “Why would I be scared?” 

Dazai blinks, his lips curling into a grin. 

“Well, then what’s wrong with going out for a little fresh air?” Dazai asks, his tone much calmer now that he thinks he’s figured a few things out. 

“I don't want fresh air.” 

“It's okay to just admit that you're scared, I won't judge you,” Dazai says with a shrug. He leans back on his hands and gives the omega a playful smirk. Chuuya scowls still, digging his heels in further and refusing to admit that Dazai is right. 

When Chuuya doesn't respond, Dazai lets out a dreamy sigh and fully lays back across the foot of his bed.  

“You know, the best and easiest way to convince me that you aren't scared would be to just get dressed so that we can go out already,” Dazai says. “But if you're that scared, maybe I should just call the doctor and tell them that you need to be evaluated for—” 

“Fine! I'll go, just fucking shut up already,” Chuuya groans loudly and pushes back the covers, finally getting out of bed. Dazai grins, victorious, and sits up, only to be met by the sight of Chuuya fully nude. 

“Shit, sorry,” Dazai says, averting his eyes from the omega's naked body. Does he sleep like that every night? What the hell? Either way, it's clear that being naked feels normal to Chuuya in some way, because he has no qualms about standing up and stretching right in front of Dazai. Something about it is both insanely alluring…and deeply concerning. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you scared?” Chuuya taunts. 

That fucking brat. 

“It’s called being respectful,” Dazai says, and Chuuya immediately snorts. 

“Respectful?” he scoffs, mocking Dazai’s words. The omega turns and steps closer, but Dazai stays strong and still refuses to look in his direction. 

“Yes, respectful, I know you wouldn’t understand the meaning of the word,” Dazai mutters. Dammit, why does he have to be like this? If only his weird, sheltered innocence could extend to the way he feels about showing off his scientifically perfect body.  

“Hah,” he laughs, drawing even closer to Dazai. Notes of lavender tickle his nose and he has to crane his neck and lean away because holy fuck his scent is too good and he’s too close—And he’s only human; an alpha with innate desires. It’s not his fault that his own pants are suddenly growing a little too tight. 

“Chuuya please put some clothes on. This is hardly appropriate,” Dazai chokes out, hoping he doesn’t notice anything else. 

“How is it inappropriate? You’ve already seen me naked, and you’re my alpha so you’re the only one who’s supposed to see me naked now. What’s wrong with you?” Chuuya asks, plopping down onto the bed next to Dazai so that he’s back in his field of vision. Even if just for a moment, Dazai still catches a glimpse of Chuuya’s smooth, lightly freckled thighs, and his neatly-trimmed trail of copper leading straight to—

“Jesus, fuck,” Dazai grits, tearing himself away and pacing several steps away from the bed. “What’s wrong with you?!”

He feels bad as soon as he says it, but Chuuya doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Literally nothing. You should know that, you paid eight-hundred million for me,” he spits. Dazai can hear the bed shift as Chuuya sits up and lets out another long sigh. “Don’t you know that you’re the weird one here?” 

“And why is that?” Dazai asks, facing the wall, half-focusing on willing his boner away. 

“Well…You want to do weird things like go to restaurants and watch movies with me. I always assumed that you’d be trying to pup me already, I mean, why else would you buy an omega?” 

The way Chuuya says it all is so chilling. He says it like it’s normal, like he expected Dazai to pin him down and fuck him and then throw him aside to do chores whether he wanted to or not. And maybe… probably, there are people out there who would do exactly that. Mating houses have that sort of stigma about them, no matter how hard they try to sell themselves on the basis of tradition.  

“I bought you because I wanted you. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to just… rape you.” He’s exasperated, but turns around anyway because he needs Chuuya to know that he’s serious about that. Sure, Dazai’s a piece of shit—He’s not gonna argue that one—But he isn’t a rapist. 

Fuck.  

Chuuya is sitting up now, his legs thankfully folded in a way that obscures Dazai’s view of his privates. It doesn’t, however, obscure the puzzled look on Chuuya’s face, or the way he tilts his head to the side like a curious dog. 

“It’s not rape if you’re my mate,” Chuuya says. 

And he says it like he really believes it to be true. 

“Get dressed, Chuuya. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.” 

About half an hour later, he’s finally riding the elevator down to the main floor with Chuuya standing next to him. The omega has been stubbornly silent ever since emerging from his room, and Dazai is still at a loss for words. In less than twenty-four hours he’s pretty sure he’s experienced every known emotion, which is wildly different from his usual apathetic approach to life. 

And now he’s just stuck with this unrelenting feeling that something is wrong.  

He’s just not sure what yet. 

The elevator dings and Chuuya shuffles a bit closer to Dazai as the doors open. He doesn’t quite reach or cling to him, still stubborn enough to insist on independence. As his mate, though, he can’t hide the way his anxiety clearly spikes as they step out into the lobby. It’s not particularly busy, but the ceilings are tall and the chandelier lights twinkle and there are bellhops pushing carts of luggage—All sights that appear to be new to Chuuya. 

“This way,” Dazai says, draping an arm around his shoulders as they walk towards the front doors. As soon as they step outside, Chuuya clings to Dazai’s arm like a vice, clearly not expecting the sudden blare of passing traffic. They aren’t right on the street—there’s a circle out front where Higuchi has already brought his car around to the front—and they don’t have far to go, but Dazai also can’t imagine what sort of sensory hellscare this must be for someone who’s lived twenty-five years without ever experiencing it. 

Given the nature of their excursion for today, Dazai is the one driving, and Higuchi will stay back, on call in case they need anything. He opens the passenger door for Chuuya and watches as he looks around briefly before putting on his seatbelt. 

So he’s been in a car before.

And, apparently, an airplane. 

Dazai makes a mental note and tucks it away for later. 

“Have you met this doctor before?” Dazai asks Chuuya as he starts to drive. When he doesn’t answer right away, Dazai glances over to see that he’s busy staring out the window, his eyes wide and glued to the scenes that play out on the streets—People walking their dogs, people buying street food, people running—People, people, people.  

“There’s no fucking grass,” Chuuya blurts out. “It’s just grey.” 

“There’s grass,” Dazai insists, pointing to a little stretch of green that lines part of the sidewalk. 

“That’s not grass,” Chuuya says, dismissively. “You can’t even see the damn sky, the buildings are too tall.” 

“They are called skyscrapers for a reason, I guess,” Dazai says. 

“The fuck is a skyscraper?” 

Dazai sighs. 

Note: Doesn’t know what a skyscraper is. 

“Chuuya, I asked you if you’ve met this doctor,” Dazai repeats. 

“No? I don’t know your doctor.” 

“But he’s—” Dazai stops himself for a moment to consider the circumstances. It’s possible that Chuuya doesn’t know this doctor, and that it might not be something Verlaine has disclosed to him. Maybe he can find out for sure once they meet up. “You’re right, that would be weird, I suppose.” 

“Tch, yeah.” 

Chuuya is mostly quiet throughout the rest of the drive. He comments on a few things, like when he sees a man walking five dogs at one time. 

Note: Likes dogs. 

They don’t leave the city, but eventually, Dazai turns into an alley and turns off the car. 

“Are we here?” Chuuya asks. 

“Mhmm,” Dazai murmurs. He gets out and moves around to the passenger side to let Chuuya out. Once he’s on the ground, he looks around at the tall, brick walls that surround them, and then down towards the road they’d turned off of, where cars continue to speed past. Chuuya turns back to Dazai. 

“It smells weird,” Chuuya tells him. 

He chuckles and tilts his head towards the dumpster at the end of the alleyway and Chuuya makes a face. “Come on, come on.” 

With that, he puts an arm around his shoulders once more, and guides him towards the unmarked door at the far end of the alley. It doesn’t seem like the ideal place for a doctor’s visit, but it isn’t far off from what Dazai was expecting. He’s no stranger to underground, shady shit, but he’s also not used to said underground, shady shit referring to much-needed medical care for his spouse. 

He steps up to the door, ready to knock, when it swings open. Chuuya (who’s definitely not scared) jumps at the sudden sound and clings tighter to Dazai. And Dazai, in turn, suddenly has to concentrate very hard on not acknowledging how warm Chuuya’s body heat is or how good he smells up close. 

“You’re late.”  

The guy that greets them (if one would call that a greeting) is surprisingly young—a beta man who barely passes Chuuya in height. 

“Sorry about that, this one wouldn’t get out of bed.” Dazai tries to laugh it off and lighten the weird mood, but the man just sighs and turns on his heel. 

“Don’t care. Come on, and close the door behind you.” 

Quickly, Dazai follows the man inside with Chuuya in tow, making sure the door closes firmly behind them. He doesn’t speak, just leads them down a long, narrow hallway until he gets to a ladder that leads downward. Chuuya’s scent sharpens as soon as he sees it and he stops. 

“Chuuya, it’s okay. I’ll go first,” Dazai whispers to him. He half expects Chuuya to argue with him like he did earlier, but instead he just nods. With that, Dazai climbs down and urges Chuuya to do the same. It takes a few extra seconds before he’s convinced, but then he’s climbing down too. 

The ladder leads to another door, which the beta man opens with a key and beckons for them to follow once more. And the door leads them into…

A bar? A cafe? 

It’s a pretty small space, with a row of booths and not a single patron in sight. And yet it appears to be well-stocked with high- end liquors, fancy espresso machines, and nicely decorated. 

“Right here,” the man says, sliding into one of the booths and gesturing for the two of them to sit across from him. 

“This is a doctor’s office?” Chuuya scoffs. “I told you you should have asked for a house visit.” 

“No, it’s not,” Dazai says, firmly, as he gives a hardened look to the man across from him. What the hell is his game?  

None of this shit makes sense. 

He’s actually trying to remember the last time he tried taking too many pills because maybe he’s the one who’s actually dead, and this is all some elaborate and fucked-up level of hell. 

“I believe I told you on the phone that I’m not a doctor, but that I could set you up with one,” the man says. “You can call me Ranpo. I have connections that I can assist you with if you really need it, but I’d rather that you try not to need anything from me. Got it?” 

“No,” Chuuya says, right as Dazai chimes in with, “Got it!” 

“What you need is a doctor who can keep her mouth shut about your mate, right?” Ranpo asks, and Dazai nods in response. “And I can help with that—This is what we do at the Armed Detective Agency.” 

“The Armed Detective— What?” Dazai scoffs. “I thought this was the number for Paul Verlaine’s physician for Chuuya.” 

Ranpo gives him a curious look. 

“Who the heck is Paul Verlaine?”  

Chapter Text

Chuuya hasn’t been to an actual doctor’s office before, at least, not that he can remember. He’s always been very healthy, and whenever he’s had checkups and whatnot, his doctor has always been able to come to see him at home. 

He can’t remember what the doctor’s name was. Or what he looked like for that matter. 

But he definitely remembers a doctor. 

Or something. 

Either way, he’s pretty sure he knows enough to know that the place he’s in currently is not a doctor’s office. It’s a cafe. A really creepy looking cafe at that. 

“Who the heck is Paul Veraline?” Ranpo asks. 

On instinct, he wants to react, and he almost does, but he’s stopped when Dazai places a hand on his thigh under the table. Chuuya glances over at the alpha, noticing the way his expression remains unchanged despite his darkening scent. 

He’s not sure what Dazai is thinking, but clearly he has some sort of plan, and Chuuya doesn’t have much of a choice except to trust him. 

“The man who gave me your number,” Dazai says, calmly. 

Chuuya blinks and opens his mouth to speak, but Dazai’s grip on his thigh tightens. He closes his mouth again, opting to stay quiet. Something…Something is wrong. Dazai had said that this was a doctor that Verlaine knew, and that they could trust him. 

“Really? What’s your connection with him? Who is he?” Ranpo asks again, almost as if he’s trying to get information out of him. Chuuya looks at Dazai again, his stomach twisting when he notices the darkness in his eyes. He’s pissed.  

And Chuuya is left feeling like a fucking idiot for not knowing what either one of them is thinking—Verlaine? How could anyone expected to care for Chuuya not know who Verlaine is?! That’s just…Unless this man is dangerous. 

Chuuya inhales sharply. 

“Is something wrong?” Ranpo asks him. 

“Forgive him, this is his first outing since we’ve mated, he’s a bit anxious,” Dazai says, swiftly answering for him without missing a beat. Apparently Dazai is very charming when he wants to be. 

“I see,” Ranpo says. “Why would Paul Verlaine give you the number to a doctor?” 

“Not sure, I was hoping you could tell me,” Dazai replies, folding his hands under his chin while he rests his elbows against the table. Watching Dazai speak to the other man gives Chuuya a weird feeling in his stomach, and he can’t name it because he’s pretty sure he’s never actually felt it before. He feels hollow and full at the same time, heavy and yet light as a feather. The contradicting sensations buzz inside of him, filling his chest and nearly choking him. 

As annoying and irritating as the alpha can be, it’s fascinating to watch the way he smoothly interacts with the other man. Despite the growing tension in the room, Dazai is calm, collected, and hell, it almost seems like he’s even thriving under this kind of pressure. It’s not uncommon for alphas to have overly inflated egos, but it’s a much rarer sight to witness confidence that isn’t misplaced. 

Chuuya shivers. 

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know anything about Paul Verlaine. Just that we received a tip from an anonymous source that he may be involved in an ongoing investigation, and intercepted a phone call.” 

Chuuya frowns at that—It makes it sound like Verlaine is the villain here, and not these weirdos tracking their phone calls. 

“Well, you call yourself a detective agency, I’m sure you’ve done your research, so let's stop beating around the bush and hear it, okay?” Dazai sighs. “Let me guess, you know exactly who I am, don’t you?” 

“Of course. Dazai Osamu, of Tsushima Pharmaceuticals. Your father passed away only a month ago, and you now carry quite a prestigious title. It also appears that you've acquired a mate from an antiquated—”

Suddenly, Dazai clears his throat. Chuuya tries not to notice the way he shakes his head, like he's urging Ranpo to stop talking. That's weird…Does Dazai know something that Chuuya doesn't? 

What the fuck?

“What if I get chosen by a gross alpha?” Chuuya complained to Verlaine while gazing out the window of the small airplane. He never would have admitted it to anyone, but he was nervous as hell to be on his way to a mating house. 

It was expected, of course. 

But that didn't make the change any easier. 

“You don't need to worry about a thing, Chuuya,” Verlaine sighed next to him, lazily nursing a glass of wine. 

Chuuya rolled his eyes at the sentiment. “Easy for you to say. You're an alpha.” 

“Yes, an alpha who cares about your wellbeing, don't forget that.” 

“Duh, I wasn't gonna—” 

“Point is, there's no need to worry. Your alpha will have to be someone I personally approve of. Someone with a reputable background. Once I approve of the alpha, I will disclose everything he needs to know in order to properly care for you.” 

“Whatever,” Chuuya sighed, after considering his words. 

Arguing with Verlaine never really worked, so he'd learned to just give up, to trust his word. He's not sure how he learned that…

But at some point, he just knew it to be true. 

Chuuya's chest tightens and his jaw clenches shut as he bites back the urge to question Dazai and call him out for being weird. 

“I see you know your stuff,” Dazai says. “The fact remains, however, that I'm seeking important medical care for my omega, and you've obstructed my ability to do so. I don't trust hospitals. Perhaps you can just…give me the phone number of the person I was trying to get a hold of and we won't have to cross paths again.” 

“Uh, yeah, that's going to be a problem,” Ranpo sighs. “The person Verlaine was trying to connect you with is allegedly associated with the Port Mafia, I'm sure you're familiar with them?” 

Dazai's scent darkens. 

“Clearly not that familiar if I trusted Verlaine’s contact.” 

Chuuya can't take it anymore. 

He just—He knows he should keep his mouth shut but it all just comes rushing out at once and he can't stop it!

“Stop talking shit about Verlaine! He's my brother, he's just trying to protect me!” Chuuya cries out, standing and slamming his hands down against the table top. 

His chest feels tight and his lungs suddenly burn like he's been running at full speed. This feeling erupts every now and then, coming and going for as long as he can remember. 

He hates this feeling. 

Paul Verlaine told him it was just anxiety.  

“Hey, Chuuya, it's okay,” Dazai says in a soft voice, gently tugging at his arm to guide him back to his seat. He doesn't realize how much his hands are shaking until Dazai laces their fingers together under the table and steadies them. 

What the hell is wrong with him? 

“We need to leave,” Chuuya tells Dazai. “This guy sounds like one of Verlaine’s enemies. It's not safe here—” 

Horrifyingly enough, Dazai doesn't make any move to leave or display any sense of urgency in the matter. Why isn't he panicking? There's no way he can't see it too. 

“Does Verlaine have a lot of enemies?” Dazai asks Chuuya, his voice calm. 

Chuuya's stomach lurches. 

Did he…He doesn't know why he said that. If Verlaine did have enemies, Chuuya couldn't picture them. Unless, maybe, they meant the people that he rescued Chuuya from, but no one is supposed to know that Chuuya knows that much, and he's certainly not about to let it slip now. 

“No,” Chuuya says quickly. “I was just being dramatic, I was out of line.” 

He folds his hands together and stares down into his own lap, doing his best to pretend like his throat isn't closing in on itself. 

What is happening? 

He can feel Ranpo's expressionless gaze on him, probably silently judging him for speaking out against his alpha so brazenly. What Dazai permits in his own home is his business but Chuuya… He should be doing a better job of keeping himself together in public. 

“What does Verlaine do for a living?” Ranpo asks him. 

Chuuya's throat tightens again. 

He works for the government. His job is classified. He took very good care of me—

“I don't know,” Chuuya says, despite his racing thoughts. He has all these flashing memories of Verlaine going to work, of him mentioning what he does and where he's going. 

But all the memories play like an old, corrupted file in his mind. The picture is warped and their voices play back as static. 

He tries to swallow. 

“We do have a physician at the agency,” Ranpo says, contemplating. “She's dealt with some pretty shady shit, and she'll keep things under wraps.” 

He's only speaking to Dazai now, his voice growing distant as Chuuya continues to tremble and stare at his hands in his lap. 

“Is that so?” Dazai asks, like he might actually be considering it. 

“Dazai, there's no way Verlaine would approve of this,” Chuuya says, panic bubbling up to his throat again. 

With a long, thoughtful sigh, Dazai reaches over again to gently smooth his hand against Chuuya's hair. His touch is oddly comforting, something about the physical contact and the scent it brings with it. 

He's noticed that Dazai touches him a lot. Not in any weird or sexual ways—Actually, never in sexual ways. But soft, gentle, casual touches. Just enough to remind Chuuya that he's there; that he's his alpha. 

“I promised your dear brother that I'd keep you out of harm's way. That I'd protect you from anyone who might want to hurt you,” Dazai explains, and duh, Chuuya knows that, but— “And I intend to keep that promise, even if it means that Verlaine is the one who wants to hurt you.” 

This time, the pain doesn't stir inside him. It rockets out of him from zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye, and it's so intense that he swears his vision goes dark and—

And the next thing he knows, he's in Dazai's lap, cradled in the alpha's arms and swaddled in his hazy scent. He leans into his chest, his cheeks numb, afraid to look up at him. 

What…what happened? 

How did he not notice Dazai scooping him up or scenting him? 

“I think I'd like to see that doctor sooner rather than later,” Dazai says, a dark and foreboding edge to his voice. He jolts, but the alpha just hugs him tighter in response, his pheromones growing thicker in an instant. 

Oh. 

Dazai is actively scenting him. 

Heavily scenting him. 

“What's wrong with me?” Chuuya whispers, his voice weak and raspy as he curls in on himself some more. He can feel Dazai's lips brush against the top of his head before he speaks. 

“With you? Absolutely nothing, darling.” 

He doesn't argue with Dazai. 

But he also doesn't believe him. 

—

Dazai wonders if there's a scientific name to describe the way he feels about Chuuya. If there's a way to explain the fact that he's only known the other man for a few days, but now feels as if he'd burn down the whole damn city with everyone in it just to protect him. 

He's never cared about another person before. Not like this. 

And yet as he sits here, Chuuya nearly convulsing in his arms, he can feel the rage boiling within. 

Ranpo is clearly very observant—He'd have to be to work with the Armed Detective Agency. After the initial shock of realizing he'd been stupid enough to walk into a trap like this had worn off, he realized that he does know of the agency. He's heard of it, knows they aren't affiliated with anyone in particular. 

However, he'll still have to tread lightly. No matter how Dazai actually feels about the situation, he still has his own underground affiliations. Whatever he does going forward, he'll just have to be wary of the fact that the agency is going to be watching him very closely. 

Well. 

He almost smiles when he thinks about how his father would be rolling in his damn grave if he knew what Dazai was considering. 

That decides it. 

“Please tell me this doctor of yours is nearby,” Dazai sighs. “I can't take him anywhere else. Just know that if you have questions about him, I more than likely can't answer them.” 

“Can't? Or won't?” 

Dazai grins. “You're clever, aren't you?” 

“Your father was on our watch list, you know? Lots of people suspected he had ties to the Port Mafia, but no one could ever prove it.” 

Dazai could prove it. 

“Is that so? Well, he was a piece of shit, so I wouldn't put it past him,” he shrugs. “I'm not my old man—No, actually, I fucking hated the guy.” 

“I'll be honest, Dazai, I don't trust you.” 

He figured as much. Why would he? 

“Makes sense.” 

“So then tell me why I should take the risk and let you see the agency’s doctor.” Ranpo crosses his arms over his chest, watching studiously as Dazai glances down at the shivering omega in his arms. 

“Because Chuuya…He doesn't deserve this. Whatever this is,” Dazai says, simply. 

Ranpo stays silent for a few moments before he finally sighs. 

“Yeah, I guess you're right,” the beta groans. “Fine, come with me.” 

Dazai checks on Chuuya again, and inexplicable worry twisting in his gut when the omega appears to still be totally out of it. While he's aware of some of the medical trauma that Chuuya endured as a child, there's nothing that completely explains the way he acts. And Dazai is definitely confused by the way he'd slipped into an utter panic at the suggestion that Verlaine might not be the upstanding citizen Chuuya wants him to be. 

Maybe certain pieces are starting to fit together, but it doesn't necessarily make anything better. 

Carefully, he stands while carrying Chuuya in his arms and follows Ranpo up a set of stairs, opposite of the way they came in. And then they're heading down a narrow hallway that opens up to a…shared office space? 

He pauses in the doorway as Ranpo strides in, a few other faces looking up at him from their desks as if they've seen a ghost.  

“Where's Yosano?” Ranpo asks, directing the question to a tall man wearing glasses. 

“What’s the meaning of this? You weren’t supposed to bring him here , you were supposed to—Ugh,” the man seems visibly aggravated by Ranpo’s decision to bring Dazai and Chuuya into what appears to be their agency office. 

“Don’t yell at me, I knew you guys would be moved by his sob story, so I figured it was the right thing to do!” Ranpo groans. “There’s something up with that omega.” 

The man now directs his attention to Chuuya, and how he’s still not conscious. Dazai flashes him a pleading look, because of course an organization full of self-proclaimed “do-gooders” would have a soft spot for an omega in distress. 

“Please help him, he’s—He’s all I have,” Dazai says, wistfully. 

“Aren’t you a multi-billionaire?” Another agency member asks. 

“And money means nothing compared to my Chuuya.” 

“Of course, of course,” the other man says. “My name is Kunikida Doppo, please let me escort you to our doctor’s exam room.” 

“I would be forever grateful,” Dazai says, laying it on as thick as he can. Clearly this Kunikida character is easily swayed by the struggles of his omega. He adjusts Chuuya in his arms before following him out of the shared office and to the elevator, which takes them up a floor. Kunikida leads them to an exam room, and then tells him that they can wait there while he goes to find the physician. 

Dazai lays Chuuya down on the exam table, watching as he turns onto his side and reaches out, like he still wants to be close despite his state. He lets out a long side and brushes a hand through his hair, just as Chuuya starts to open his eyes, squinting as he adjusts to the lighting in the exam room. 

“Where are we?” Chuuya asks, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “What happened, why am I—” 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Dazai tells him. “We’re at your doctor’s appointment.” 

The omega furrows his brow, confused. Dazai genuinely believes that Chuuya doesn’t know where he is or how he got there. It doesn’t make any of this any easier, though. It only further solidifies Dazai’s suspicion that something is truly wrong with this whole situation. 

Suddenly, the door to the exam room slams open and someone unexpectedly familiar strides in. 

“It’s—What the hell are you doing here?!” Dazai scoffs, his jaw nearly dropping to the ground at the sight of Yosano Akiko.  

He’s met her before. It’s been a while, not since they were both teenagers, but she absolutely has ties to the Port Mafia. Or, at least she used to. He can’t imagine she still would given her current job. 

“I should be asking you the same question,” she mutters, strolling right past him and stopping on the other side of the exam table. “I haven’t seen you in seven years, and then suddenly you show up—Apparently you’re the CEO, huh? Saw that on the news.” 

Dazai groans. “Don’t fucking remind me.” 

“Hmm,” she murmurs. “What the hell did you do to this one? Because if this is anything like what your dad used to do—” 

“It’s not,” Dazai snaps. “I fucking hated that guy, and—either way, it’s nothing like that. This is…this is something else entirely. I don't know what this is.” 

“Dazai Osamu admitting he doesn’t know something, this must be serious,” she scoffs. 

And he deserves it, to an extent. While he doesn't know Yosano well, he knew that she was with the mafia against her will. She had been forced into an apprenticeship under the mafia's leader at the time, Mori Ougai, and was consistently tasked with the job of patching Dazai up every time he got hurt—which was often. 

“It is,” he sighs. 

“Who is this, anyway?” She asks. Chuuya rolls onto his back and gives her a wary look. He's awake, thankfully, but it doesn't seem like he's completely up to speed yet. 

“My mate.” 

“You're joking.” 

“Nope! Just brought him home the other day,” Dazai grins. “See?” 

He takes the liberty of brushing Chuuya's hair aside to show her the bond mark he'd left there. And, he's not sure what he's expecting—maybe a moment of disbelief? Some sort of dry joke about the situation? 

Instead Yosano looks sick. 

Which is confusing, because Dazai thinks it looks rather nice. It's a clean, even mark that's already healed. He's been wondering if that has something to do with the strength of their bond. 

“When did you say you bonded with him?” Yosano asks, her voice lower and far more serious than it had been just a few moments ago.

“The day before yesterday,” Dazai shrugs. “What does that say about our chemistry that it's already healed?” 

“It doesn't say anything about your chemistry, dumbass,” Yosano grits. Instead of elaborating, she ignores Dazai to focus on the omega lying between them instead. “How are you feeling?” 

“I'm fine,” Chuuya says, stiffly. “I don't need a doctor, I think…I think I just need to go home and rest.” 

“It's just a physical, you really scared me for a second there, Chuuya.” 

Chuuya turns his head to give him an incredulous look, like he can't fathom the idea of Dazai being scared for his health. And maybe that is something Dazai would be dramatic about just for his own amusement, but this time he actually means it. 

“Sh-shut up,” Chuuya grumbles, his brow furrowing adorably. 

“Can you tell me a bit about what happened?” Yosano asks. 

“So when—” 

“Not you, Dazai,” she scoffs, then points aggressively towards a chair against the opposite wall. “I'm talking to my patient right now. You can sit right over there.” 

Dazai steps back, but refuses to move away any further. Yosano shakes her head, disapproving, but continues on with her questions for Chuuya. 

“This mark…is it really from Dazai? Or have you been marked before?” 

“Of course it's from Dazai, I'm not a whore,” Chuuya snaps. It's at least a bit of a relief to hear his attitude coming back after being so out of it. 

“It can take weeks for a bond mark to fully heal, and you're telling me this healed in a matter of days?” 

“A matter of minutes, actually,” Dazai interjects. Yosano's eyes widen. 

“I need you to tell me exactly what happened,” Yosano insists. “If what you're saying is true…” 

She trails off, like she isn't really sure what the consequences of that would be. 

“I bit him, without a knot, and he bled all over the place and passed out. I thought the worst, and got help, and as soon as we got him cleaned up, the mark had already scarred over. I have no idea what happened,” Dazai explains. Technically, he isn't breaking the NDA, because even though he assumes it has something to do with the lab, he actually has no idea what happened with the bond mark. 

He can't disclose something that wasn't disclosed to him, can he? 

“That shouldn't be possible, unless…Dazai, where did you meet him?” she asks, cautiously. 

“The Golden House,” he says, with a casual shrug. She gives a brief look of disgust, which is to be expected. In most circles, purchasing a mate is pretty frowned upon. “Why? Have you seen this before?” 

“No, technically I haven't…But I remember reading about it somewhere. That there were people conducting underground experiments to make bonding more…efficient,” Yosano explains. Dazai blinks, and does his best to not react to her surprisingly accurate connection. 

“Huh, well that sounds a little far-fetched,” Dazai places his hands on his hips and lets out a long sigh. 

“No, you insinuating that this was just a one-off phenomenon is far-fetched,” she corrects. “This is not normal.” 

“Is something wrong? Why are you arguing with my alpha, do you think he'd lie to you about this?” Chuuya cuts in, clearly annoyed. 

“Do you think he wouldn't?”  

“Okay, that's enough of that,” Dazai says, a bit more serious this time. While he's well aware that he's done shitty things in his past, he'd rather protect Chuuya from that aspect of his life for as long as humanly possible. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Chuuya asks anyway. “It's none of my business if he doesn't tell me the truth about shit.” 

“Yeah, that's—What?” Dazai pauses, and now both he and Yosano are staring at him. 

“What?” he groans. 

“If you're his partner, it should be a big deal if he's not telling you the truth. That would be a deal-breaker for me,” Yosano points out. That's when Dazai notices the thick scent blocker patch sticking out above her shirt collar, and he remembers something about her that he'd never given much thought to in the past. 

“As an omega it's not my place,” Chuuya argues and Dazai suddenly realizes the precarious situation they're suddenly in. 

“Yeah, haha, why don't we get on with the rest of Chuuya's physical, okay? Don't you have to check him for lumps or something?” He flashes a bright smile in her direction as she narrows her eyes. Desperately, he tries to send her silent messages to please not drop that fucking bomb on him. Not now. Not yet, anyway. 

Eventually, he’ll figure it out, but he’s already had an eventful day and Dazai would rather not give him a heart attack. Visibly fighting back her words, Yosano forces a smile and turns to a drawer behind her before producing an empty specimen container. She hands it to Chuuya. 

“I need a urine sample, then, do you know how to do it?” she asks him. 

“Obviously,” he scoffs, taking the container from her. 

Yosano points him in the direction of the bathroom, then waits until he’s fully out of earshot to turn back to Dazai. 

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” she snaps. “Are you sure you got him from the Golden House? Because it seems more like you pulled him out of a time machine.” 

“I’m aware, I don’t get it either,” Dazai says, still keeping his voice low just in case. “He thinks omegas are supposed to be like…property or some shit. I don’t know where he learned that from. He has these wild gaps in knowledge that don't make any sense.” 

“Like what?” Yosano asks. 

“Like…He’s been on an airplane, but he was afraid to go outside. Has never been to a restaurant. He’s extremely traditional and rigid in his ways, and yet he’s anything but docile. He’s a walking contradiction and I just…I don’t know how to help.” It’s hard to fully explain everything without violating the NDA, but he feels like he’s said enough to get the point across. 

“That is strange,” Yosano says, pensively. “The scar on his neck, it reminded me of a study I read a while ago. A classified file that had most of the information redacted from it…About a lab that was conducting these highly unethical human experiments. It was hard to know exactly what it was they were going for, but I remember a section on fast-healing bondmarks…It wasn’t redacted because their results were nonexistent, they’d been shut down before they even completed most of their work,” she explains. 

Dazai feels like he’s going to be sick. 

Yosano’s story doesn’t confirm or deny anything, really, but it does leave him with an awful, ominous feeling that he isn’t quite sure how to digest. 

Chapter Text

Dazai isn’t really sure when he first decided his late father was a piece of shit—All of his earliest memories of the man are all fairly horrifying. The man always wanted to keep Dazai close, something about ‘raising him right’ so he could be a strong alpha that could take on the company for him one day. 

“You can’t take him! Osamu is just a child! He—” 

His mother tried to stick up for him, she really did. But she was no match against the man’s lack of humanity. Looking back, Dazai wonders if he could have done something—He should have stopped him. Somehow, he should have been able to intervene.

Instead, as a ten-year-old child, he’d simply stood there, silent and frozen, as that monster hit her with a backhand that still echoes in his nightmares to this very day. It plays in his head like a tortuous hell loop—Every time he’d watched his mother get hit, struck down, commanded against her will.

When Dazai was older, in high school, he tried to be braver, and did everything he could to convince her to leave. He’d steal the money from Dad, he’d put her on a fucking train to a private safe house where that asshole would never find her ever again. 

The first time he brought it up, was also the first time his mother had ever hit him. 

“Don’t you dare talk about your father that way—A-after everything he’s given you!”  

At the time, he didn’t understand her reaction. It didn’t make any fucking sense why she’d so brazenly defend someone who’s been beating her down for years and treating her like a piece of property. Dazai’s mother was kind and soft-hearted, and loved Dazai so much. She had never once raised a hand to him, and Dazai had assumed that was the reason she shook so badly after doing it. 

Not even a year later, Dazai gave a eulogy at her funeral. 

She deserved a nice eulogy—Kind words spoken about her and the life she tried to lead. About how it was so horrible that the doctors weren’t able to detect the cancer that had caused the aneurysm that killed her. Honoring her memory was the only reason he managed not to completely break down, or scream at the crowd of funeral-goers that it wasn’t fucking cancer.

That her husband had commanded her so excessively that her brain and body just couldn’t fucking take it anymore. 

—

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai is finally driving home with Chuuya slumped in the passenger seat next to him. He hasn’t said a single word since they left the agency and even now just sits there, idly playing with the medical tape on his arm from where he’d had blood drawn. 

If he’s being honest, he really isn’t sure who to trust in this situation. He wants to believe that Verlaine has a good reason for all of this absurdity, but the more he notices, the more it becomes clear that Chuuya’s brother might not be the great protector that they thought he was. The only thing is—If he isn’t looking out for Chuuya’s best interests, then what the fuck is he doing? 

He wouldn’t say he trusts Yosano necessarily. At the same time, he has a certain amount of respect for anyone who can pull themselves away from the mafia and live to tell the tale. If she’s here now, then she clearly isn’t with them anymore. 

She can help Chuuya, though. 

Somehow, that seems more important than whether or not he should worry about her blowing his cover. 

“Are you hungry?” Dazai asks him. “It’s lunch time.” 

Chuuya’s eyes flicker to him briefly, then he shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.” 

“Of course it does. If you’re hungry, I want to take you somewhere,” Dazai explains. “And you don’t even have to go in if you don’t want to; I can order take-out and we can eat at home.”

“Okay,” Chuuya mutters. 

He’s being passive, but Dazai can tell by his tone that he’s pissed about something, he’s just purposely being difficult instead of going off about it. 

“Is something wrong?” 

Chuuya lets out a long groan, but at least it’s more emotion than he’s given in the past half hour. “It doesn’t matter what I think, you’re just going to do what you want to anyway.” 

Maybe he’s not technically wrong, but it doesn’t mean Dazai likes hearing him say that. 

“If you don’t want to eat out, we’ll try again another day,” Dazai offers. 

“No, not that—Nevermind. Like I said, it doesn’t matter,” Chuuya says, twisting his body away from Dazai so that he can look out the window on his side. 

“Of course it matters. I want to know what you’re thinking about, Chuuya,” Dazai reassures him, but that only earns him an eyeroll. “Did you not like the doctor?” 

“She was fine, but there’s…I don’t know, there’s something weird about her. About that whole place. I don’t know why you trust them,” Chuuya finally explains, albeit begrudgingly. 

“Well, I don’t.” 

“Hah?!” 

“I don’t trust most people,” Dazai explains. “But I do know that there are people who want to help and those who don’t and…I’m sure Veraline would approve of whatever choice I made to keep you safe and healthy.” 

“Yeah…I suppose you’re right. He just wants what’s best for me.” 

The way he sits up a little straighter, his voice a little lighter, as he says those things. It drives Dazai absolutely crazy that he can’t get inside Chuuya’s head or read through his memories to find out what the hell happened to him. Yosano had promised to look into those classified files again, just to see if anything seems to line up with Chuuya’s case. 

Verlaine had said that Chuuya was rescued when the lab shut down. 

Yosano said that their work on bond healing hadn’t even started yet when it was ordered to stop…And yet, Chuuya clearly displayed that ability. It’s not common; it’s not even natural.  

Chuuya’s mark is fully healed. 

Maybe the reports weren’t accurate. Maybe they’d pushed through some more research and then destroyed the evidence without telling anyone. 

Or maybe, it’s something far more sinister entirely. Dazai clutches the steering wheel a little tighter as he drives.

“I might as well just eat whatever,” Chuuya mumbles. “We’re already out, right?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“If you keep asking me, I’ll change my mind,” Chuuya says, finally looking back at him again. Dazai smiles, but before he can even allow himself to be pleased, it occurs to him that he can't control who they run into inside a restaurant. 

Whether or not there will be an un-patched omega taking their order, for example. The situation is clearly much more complex than Dazai originally thought…

Before he can make a decision, his phone starts to ring. The car’s display lights up, showing that Sakaguchi is the one calling him. Ugh. How the hell is he supposed to think about work at a time like this? 

“It’s just work,” Dazai sighs. 

“Why aren’t you answering it?” Chuuya asks. 

Even though he really doesn’t want to, he does know that Sakaguchi will more than likely just keep calling him until he does pick up. Either that, or he’ll send Akutagawa after him and that sounds like an even more revolting idea. 

“Fine,” he mumbles, before pressing the button to answer. “What’s up, Sakaguchi?” 

“You’re late for the meeting,” Sakaguchi says, cutting straight to the point, without even so much as a greeting. 

“What meeting?” Dazai scoffs. 

“The one with the board of directors? I sent you the memo last week and you said you put it on your calendar. They were not happy last time, and if you’re going to disappoint them again, things are going to start getting dicey with our shareholders and—”

“I get it, Sakaguchi. I’ll be over soon enough.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean? Are you at least on your way? They—”

Dazai hangs up. 

“Sorry, looks like I have to stop by the office for a bit,” Dazai says to Chuuya, who seems rather unfazed by the phone call. Not that he has to worry about any of that nonsense anyway. 

“Okay,” He says with a shrug. 

“I'll have Higuchi pick up lunch for us and we'll have it when we get home. How's that?” 

“Doesn't matter,” Chuuya mumbles, though Dazai definitely catches the way he lets out a little sigh of relief. 

The office isn't very far from where they are, and being the CEO has its perks, because no one gives him any slack about pulling up to the curb and hailing someone to park the car for him. 

Chuuya clings to his shadow as they enter the building, and he seems so much smaller amid the open, corporate lobby that they enter. There's a security checkpoint they pass through, and Dazai laughs briefly with the guard as he introduces Chuuya as his mate. They give Chuuya his own badge and let him through without issue. 

Once they're in the elevator to head up, he glances over at Chuuya who's staring at the badge in his hands, the little plastic card with a slightly overexposed photo of his face printed on the front under a shiny logo that reads Tsushima Pharmaceuticals. 

“You really are the CEO, huh?” Chuuya says after a moment. Dazai sputters. 

“Did you not believe me?” 

“I did…You just don't seem like the type,” Chuuya says. 

“Oh yeah? What's the type?”  

Chuuya shrugs. “I don't know…Old?” 

Dazai can at least crack a smile at that. 

As soon as the elevator rings to signal that they’ve arrived at their floor, the doors slide open to reveal Sakaguchi already waiting. 

“There you are—Hold on, who is this?” Sakaguchi asks, gesturing towards Chuuya who seems mildly offended that he even has to ask. 

“This is my mate, obviously.” Dazai declares this fact proudly and throws his arm around Chuuya’s shoulders, hugging him close. The omega feels stiff under his arm, and he immediately feels bad for startling him…but then Chuuya relaxes and leans into him.  

It takes a surprising amount of restraint to not wrap both arms around him in that moment and squeeze him tight. 

“So you did manage to just pick one up, huh?” Sakaguchi deadpans, a tinge of disapproval in his tone. On instinct, he wants to get defensive and yell that it’s not what he thinks and he’s definitely nothing like his fucking dad. If anything, Dazai has rescued Chuuya from getting mated to some sleazeball like that. 

Instead, Dazai just smiles. “So where’s the board meeting?” 

“Main conference room. You’d know this if you bothered to read the memo—”  

Dazai strides off in that direction, Chuuya still under his arm, before Sakaguchi can finish his spiel about the stupid memorandum. The main conference room is down the hall from his own office. Normally, Dazai is sure he’d be fine with letting Chuuya hang out there while he waits, but given everything from this morning, he’s not in a place where he wants to take an eye off of him for even a second.  

He throws open the doors to the conference room, proudly grinning as everyone already in the meeting looks up, as if they’re surprised he managed to show his face again. 

“Dazai, so happy you decided to join us today,” one of them says, with a deep, wistful sigh. It’s one of Dazai’s least favorite board members—an oddly somber man that gives him the creeps. 

Dazai gives him his most dazzling smile. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Mr. Rimbaud.” 

Chuuya doesn’t know why Dazai didn’t just drop him off at home or something instead of dragging him into this meeting. He knows nothing about business or whatever the fuck it is they do here, and every now and then he notices the way some of the other people in the room steal glances at him, like he’s some sort of odd spectacle. Everyone talks about things like shareholders and quarterly reports and it honestly sounds like a whole new language that Chuuya doesn’t know. 

That being said, he definitely doesn’t like the idea of being alone in Dazai’s big, tall house right now. This whole day has been a whirlwind and he feels absolutely drained. He’s not sure what happened exactly, but he does know that he managed to really worry Dazai. 

He stays quiet throughout the meeting, watching Dazai as he carries on and humors the rest of the people in the room. They all seem to want Dazai to do certain things in specific ways, and Dazai cleverly answers in ways that don’t make sense, yet seem to satisfy the rest of them. He appears charming, charismatic, and very annoying…It kind of reminds him of the way he spoke at their first meeting. 

Now that Chuuya thinks about it, he doesn’t really sound like that anymore. 

After sitting through the long and boring meeting, all of the other professional-looking people start to stand and shake each other's hands, saying weird things like “traffic into the city was ridiculous this morning!’ and ‘Thank God it’s Friday, right?’

“It’s a pleasure to see you’ve taken our advice, your mate seems lovely,” one of the men says to Dazai as he passes. He’s a taller, lanky man with long black hair, and clearly another alpha. 

“Be careful, he bites,” Dazai teases, sending Chuuya a brief glance. It takes him a moment to catch onto it, but then it easily clicks—Dazai doesn’t like this guy, does he? 

He blinks. “It’s true, I do. I’ll fucking bite your damn—” 

“Okay, settle down, Chuuya,” Dazai laughs, but reaches over and gives him a reassuring pat on his thigh anyway. 

“Just as charming as you are,” the man smiles. It makes Chuuya want to jump over Dazai and bite the man for real.  

Instead, he stays put and waits for everyone except for Dazai to clear out of the room. 

“That was weird,” Chuuya tells him. 

“Yeah, sorry for dragging you along, I’m sure that was really boring,” Dazai apologizes, and he sounds like he actually means it. “And you’re probably still hungry—Damn, I have to get some shit figured out.” 

“It’s fine,” Chuuya says, even though he is starving. “I’m glad I got to go with you.” 

Dazai stares at him for a moment, like he’s somehow needing to process Chuuya’s words. After a few moments, he softens and smiles at him. “I’m glad, too. How are you feeling?” 

“I’m f—”

“And don’t just say that you’re fine, I want to know exactly how you’re feeling,” Dazai tells him. 

“I’m…I don’t know,” Chuuya tells him, honestly. “I don’t know what you want me to say. If I had to say something, I guess I’m just tired. I don’t know what happened this morning and I’m sorry it inconvenienced everyone, but—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dazai says softly, turning Chuuya’s chair towards him so that they’re fully facing each other now. He leans forward, carefully tucking Chuuya’s hair behind his ears. There’s something so painfully gentle about his touch, and even in the tone of voice he uses. Maybe even a little sad. 

“You’re not an inconvenience,” Dazai continues. “I took you as a mate, and it’s my responsibility to take care of you.” 

Chuuya can feel his cheeks growing hot at the comment. Technically he’s not wrong, but he doesn’t have to say it like that! So embarrassing. 

“Yeah, well—Still,” Chuuya sputters, his face only getting hotter when he can’t think of anything intelligent to fire back at him. The alpha just smiles and stands up, offering his hand to Chuuya. He stares at it for a moment, and then stubbornly stands on his own, brushing off the gesture. “I can stand on my own, thanks.”

“Of course you can,” Dazai chuckles. 

Dazai finally takes him home after that, but being home still feels strange. He isn’t used to the high ceilings and the tiled floors and the modern decorations. He most certainly isn’t used to the smell of the take-out food that’s waiting for them in bags when they get home. 

“What the hell is that?” Chuuya exclaims, curiously inspecting the bags as Dazai grins at him. “It smells like…The fuck does it smell like?” 

“It smells like heaven on earth,” Dazai says, which Chuuya thinks sounds stupid. “That place I was telling you about earlier? They have the best soft-shell crab tempura.” 

“What?” Chuuya asks. 

“Do you—You know what crabs are, right?” 

“Duh,” Chuuya scoffs defensively. He knows what crabs are, he's just never eaten one before. Dazai gets all weird when Chuuya mentions the things that are new to him, so he decides to just play it off. 

“Oh, okay just making sure…” 

“I fucking love crab tempura,” he insists, even though he has no clue if he'll even like it. 

“So you can make it?” Dazai asks, immediately reminding him that he knows that Chuuya's never been to a restaurant before. 

“Mhmm,” he says. He can definitely figure out how to make it, anyway. 

“Interesting,” Dazai hums. “Alright, well, come on—Let's dig in!” 

Chuuya forces a smile and moves to sit on the stool next to him. Dazai unpacks the takeout bag and opens up the plastic containers inside that let out an even stronger version of the aroma he'd gotten a whiff of before. 

“It smells amazing,” Dazai gushes. 

“Y-yeah,” Chuuya swallows. 

Moments later Dazai is presenting him with this fried abomination of a piece of food and placing it on a plate in front of him. Chuuya stares down at it, grossed out by the odd shape and the oily sheen. He's never been a fan of fried foods, honestly. 

“Go on, try it.” 

“Mmm, okay,” Chuuya winces, and then picks up the blob with his chopsticks, carefully inspecting it before finally taking a bite.

The outer crunch followed by the moist, chewy texture inside is enough to send Chuuya running almost immediately, but he's committed now, dammit! So he forces himself to chew and swallow. 

“Is there something wrong?” 

“No it's just…I've had better. I make it better than this, that is,” Chuuya lies again. Dazai only smirks, which is barely preferable to being full-on laughed at. 

“I'd love to try that some time,” Dazai says, his voice holding a surprising amount of warmth. 

“Good,” Chuuya says, taking another bite and forcing it down. 

Dazai eats his own portion with much more ease and enthusiasm. 

After they eat, Chuuya insists on cleaning up the mess and wiping down the counters. If there’s any chance that Dazai noticed that he didn’t like the meal he purchased for them, maybe he can overshadow that with an impressive clean-up and then they won’t have to talk about fucking soft-shell crab tempura ever again. 

Dazai sits and watches him clean, silently letting him work until they’re interrupted by his phone. Chuuya almost stops to watch him check it, but instead busies himself with cleaning in order to make it seem like he isn’t eavesdropping on a conversation. 

“Oh, Chuuya,” he says, immediately silencing the phone. 

“Aren’t you going to answer?” 

“Answer? Oh—That was an alarm I had set for myself,” he explains. 

“Oh.” 

“It’s time to take your medicine,” he says. For some reason, the mention of his medications gives him an uneasy feeling, like there’s something about them that he’s forgetting. 

“Right,” Chuuya mumbles. “I should go—I don’t remember where I put it.” 

That realization makes him uneasy, though, because he suddenly remembers checking his backpack for the meds, where Ane-San had hinted that he needed to look…They weren’t actually in there, though. So where the hell did he put them? Did he take them yesterday? Fuck. 

“No worries, I have them.” 

Huh. Weird. 

“Okay,” Chuuya swallows. Dazai stands up and leads Chuuya to his bedroom, where it smells just like Dazai’s pheromones, only much thicker and more potent. As much as he hates to admit it, he does really like Dazai’s scent. He smells familiar and comforting and while that doesn’t make sense, Chuuya’s learned that it’s better to not question things, so he just goes with it. 

He follows Dazai into his walk-in closet, where the alpha shuts the door behind them, giving Chuuya a rush of deja-vu. He must have done this yesterday, and maybe with everything that’s happened today, Chuuya just forgot. 

Yeah, that makes sense. 

Dazai gestures for Chuuya to sit down on the ottoman in the middle of the closet, and he complies without much of an argument, mostly because he’s still wrapped up in his own head and trying to remember what had happened the last time he took his meds…

“Here, this one first,” Dazai says quietly, handing him the first pill. Chuuya looks down at it in the palm of his hand, wondering why it feels so unfamiliar. He pops it in anyway and swallows it dry. “Chuuya, do you…know what these are for?” 

Chuuya stares at him for a moment, processing the meaning behind the alpha’s question. “It’s birth control, right?” 

“Yeah,” Dazai says, after an odd pause. He takes out the next one. “This one’s a heat suppressant. Do you get heats regularly?” 

Chuuya takes the pill as he contemplates Dazai’s question. 

“What kind of question is that?” Chuuya scoffs. “Of course I get them regularly, I thought you read my file.” 

For some reason, Dazai barely suppresses a chuckle at that one. Chuuya isn’t sure what’s so funny, but before he can ask, Dazai’s handing him the next one to take. 

“My company makes these, you know,” Dazai points out, like he’s making small-talk. 

“I know.” 

“They’re very strong,” Dazai continues. “You aren’t supposed to take this many at once, and yet…I’m surprised you’re still conscious, let alone still getting heats.” 

Chuuya’s stomach twists. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Don’t know,” Dazai replies. “I’m just thinking out loud.” 

Chuuya fights the urge to tell him that it’s because he was made in a lab and is perfect so normal amounts of birth control probably wouldn’t work on him anyway. Instead he places the next pill into his mouth. 

“That one’s another heat suppressant,” Dazai explains. “Designed to make heats disappear completely. They’re typically used short-term for a heat that’s due to come at an inconvenient time.” 

“Inconvenient?” Chuuya repeats, the chalky, bitter pill still sitting on his tongue. 

“Yeah….Um, for example, if an alpha wanted to take their omega on a nice vacation with lots of sight-seeing. It would ruin everything if the omega went into heat right then,” Dazai explains. 

“I guess that makes sense,” Chuuya mumbles. 

Dazai removes the next pill from its box and hands it over. Quickly, Chuuya takes it and pops it into his mouth, then holds it next to the other one that still sits there. 

“If used long term, though, it's supposed to mess up heat cycles, and could potentially affect fertility. I don't want to scare you of course, but that's just what I've read. Did you know that?” 

Chuuya shakes his head. 

He doesn't know what Verlaine has told Dazai, and he isn't sure how much Dazai actually knows about these drugs or why Chuuya needs them. 

Because he needs them, right? 

If he didn't take them, then…Dazai would be able to very quickly find out why he has to take them. Chuuya doesn't want to say anything that could lead to Dazai questioning Verlaine’s motives again. 

Maybe showing him would be more convincing anyway. 

While Dazai isn't looking, Chuuya maneuvers the pills under his tongue and then does the same thing with the next one he receives. 

“Well, that's all of them,” Dazai says. He doesn't even bother to check, or to even have Chuuya stick out his tongue to ensure he's swallowed them all. That's what Ane-San always did. 

“Mmhmm,” Chuuya nods. 

Dazai gazes at him for a moment, his eyes flickering to Chuuya's lips. 

“I'm going to get some work done in my office. I'll turn the TV on for you,” he says, standing up and opening the closet door. Chuuya stays seated. “Come out when you're ready.” 

It's an odd thing to say. 

It's odd to just leave Chuuya sitting there when he hasn't even checked on him. And it isn't until Dazai is out of sight that Chuuya realizes he's actually gotten away with it. 

The panic that accompanies that realization almost makes him want to just swallow everything again anyway. 

So he quickly spits the pills into his hand and shoves them into his pocket. 

Chapter Text

“Time for your medicine.” 

Ane-san would say the same thing at the same time every evening. She’d stop by his room with a tray and set it on his night stand. On that tray would be a small cup with each of his pills in it, a glass of water, and a small, portable, cassette player. 

Each visit was a blur, and Chuuya has long since accepted the fact that he’d been in so much of a routine that he never even had to think about what was happening when it was time for his medicine. He was so familiar with the steps of the routine that his mind could just go on autopilot and he really didn’t think anything of it. 

But now it’s all he can think about. 

Dazai’s words—those detailed descriptions about his medications that Chuuya’s never even heard of before. 

The chalky, bitter taste that some of the pills leave on his tongue after they’ve been sitting in one place for too long. 

Realistically, Chuuya knows that as soon as Dazai realizes it’s now been three days and he hasn’t swallowed a single pill, he’ll be in a world of trouble. And knowing this, Chuuya should just take the damn pills and stop with the paranoia but for whatever reason, he just can’t. Something is wrong, something is missing.

While he’s started to hate Dazai a little bit less, Chuuya still isn’t sure what to think of the alpha. He can come across as harsh and cold, sending a chill down Chuuya’s spine. At the same time, he’s very thoughtful and gentle when they’re alone. He watches Chuuya in the kitchen without interrupting him, and every day when he comes home from work he checks on Chuuya and asks him what he did with his day. And maybe Chuuya’s losing his marbles, but it always seems like a genuine interest, and not like he’s trying to micromanage his time. 

It’s even gotten to the point where Chuuya feels relieved when Dazai gets home each day. He’ll spend hours cleaning and re-organizing the kitchen shelves or prepping dinner—Anything he can find to do that will help him to get his mind off of the guilt and anxiety he feels from being alone with his thoughts. Whenever he stops, all he can think about is the fact that he hasn’t taken his meds in days and Dazai hasn’t even noticed.  

Chuuya should tell him. 

He should be honest, he shouldn’t lie to his alpha—

On this particular day, he feels more restless than usual. There isn’t anything left to clean unless he purposely makes a mess, but the thought of doing that just makes him even more anxious. He paces between his bedroom and the living room and the kitchen, making hopeless, stupid circles around the house as he tries to find something to do. 

He needs to do something. 

Almost on autopilot, he heads back to his room and into his closet, looking around at all of the clothes still neatly hung. Standing inside the small walk-in space gives him just enough of a sense of relief that he almost stays there…but the feeling is fleeting and somehow the closet feels wrong, too. 

Frustrated, he storms out of the bedroom again and down the hallway, this time pushing open the door to Dazai’s bedroom. As soon as he opens the door, the alpha’s lingering scent hits his nose and he gets another brief taste of peace.

It’s not the same, though. It’s not nearly as nice as the way Dazai smells when he’s physically here with Chuuya. When he’s close enough to just bury his face into his clothes and drink in his scent—Fuck, why hasn’t Chuuya even thought of doing that before? 

He makes another beeline to Dazai’s closet, only to find that the door is locked.  

“Fuck,” he mutters, frowning and looking around the room until his eyes fall to the tousled duvet that’s been left tangled with the bedsheets. Dazai’s scent seems to be more concentrated there, lingering on the fabrics he’d slept in just hours ago…

Before Chuuya can even process what he’s doing let alone rationalize it, he’s gathering the blankets into his arms and dragging them out of the room and back to his own bedroom. Once there, he heads back to the closet and shoves them inside, spreading them out so that they fill up the space on the floor. It takes a little while for him to get it just right (not that he could ever explain out loud what just right even means) but there's still something missing. 

So he heads back and scans Dazai's room for the answer. And apparently that answer is pillows. There are three pillows on his bed in addition to several throw pillows, and it takes two separate trips for Chuuya to carry all of it back to his closet. 

A sudden buzzing noise reminds him of the load of laundry he started that morning, and more importantly, of the basket of Dazai's dirty clothes that he hasn't added to the wash yet. 

He jumps up and darts out of the closet, hurrying to the laundry room and finding the hamper full of worn dress shirts that still smell of the alpha. The first shirt he pulls from the pile is a light blue color. It smells like smoke and rain and every rich note of the alpha's scent that Chuuya just can't seem to get enough of. 

Almost involuntarily, he puts the shirt on over his own clothes, enveloping himself in that warm, comforting scent. The sleeves are long, but he doesn't care. Instead of bothering with them, he scoops up an armful of items from the hamper and carries them back to the closet. 

His closet is filled to the walls with an assortment of soft, cozy pieces, all of which smell like Dazai. Chuuya whimpers and pulls the door shut while he's still inside, worried that the door being open might somehow let the scent escape. 

Having the door closed feels safer anyway, and he finally feels like he can relax a bit. Before he even knows what he's doing, he finds himself burrowing into the blankets and snuggling against the pillows. 

If he were to let himself stop and wonder why he's done all this, he might feel embarrassed. Thankfully, the sudden dire need to be smothered by his alpha's scent outweighs any voice of reason. 

—--

Being in charge of a massive corporation is far more boring than Dazai had ever imagined it to be. Of course, he never actually entertained the thought of taking over before the job had been thrust upon him. At first, he hated the job simply because it reminded him of how awful his father was and how much he also hated him. Now that he’s fully into the role, he’s constantly going to meetings and signing documents and doing things that are just... Boring!

These past few days have been especially rough because all he can think about is Chuuya. He's had him for about a week now, and the omega is still just as strange as the day Dazai met him. 

His actions are inconsistent with what he claims to believe and Dazai has had a hard time getting an accurate read on him. And now with the added spice of Chuuya not taking his meds, Dazai is back to square one in trying to figure him out. 

What's interesting, though, is that without commanding him, Chuuya didn't fucking hesitate to hide the pills. Meaning somewhere in there, he knows they're not good for him—Which may have been why Verlaine was so insistent on commanding him. That being said, he doesn't plan on calling Chuuya out. In fact, he's also interested in seeing what happens without his meds. 

He's also curious to know how the hell Chuuya took meds for five years at the Golden House, because as far as Dazai is aware, alphas are not allowed on the estate unless they're there for a matchmaking appointment. So how would he have been commanded? 

Unless there's something insidious going on at the house, too. If only there was a way to compare Chuuya to another omega from the house…

Dazai manages to steal away to his office after a meeting for all of two seconds of quiet time before someone else is knocking on his door. 

“Not now, I’m busy,” he groans, slumping down in his desk chair. 

Unfortunately, this asshole seems to have no qualms about bursting in through his doors anyway. 

“Seriously? I told you I needed to speak with you after the meeting, and yet again you’re dodging my efforts,” Akutagawa says, practically seething as he invites himself into Dazai’s office and locks the door behind him. Dazai lets out a long sigh and spins in his chair so that he isn’t facing Akutagawa anymore. 

“I don’t feel like talking to you,” Dazai insists. 

“That’s very mature of you. I’m sure the board would be thrilled to know their CEO acts like a child behind closed doors.” 

“And how would you sound running to tell them that? Hmm?” Dazai smirks and turns back to face the other alpha. “I’ve done everything they’ve asked me to so far—I have a mate, we increased sales this quarter by whatever arbitrary number they decided on…What else should they care about?” 

“You—God, you’re infuriating,” Akutagawa seethes, clearly hitting a wall with his own argument. He presses the heel of his hand against his forehead. 

“Well, you’re here and already interrupting me now, so what was so important that you needed to speak with me so urgently?” he asks, before pressing his lips together to hold in a laugh. 

“It’s about the drug deal Tachihara’s been monitoring. There’s been a slight development,” he finally says, back to acting like Dazai’s colleague rather than his brother. 

“Oh?” 

“Yes. We've confirmed that the drug in question was developed in one of our labs,” he reports, instantly wiping the smile from Dazai's face. 

“And how is it that a drug developed in our lab is being sold illegally? Who oversees that lab?” Dazai asks. All of the omega-specific reproductive drugs they develop and sell are meant for the benefit of the patient they're for. It's what the pills are marketed and touted for. 

But this particular drug is far more insidious. A heat inducer driven by commands? Any omega with this in their system would be vulnerable to anyone with bad intentions. Dazai can't think of a single benefit to a drug like that. 

“Tachihara caught traces of it in the lab anyway, enough to confirm that someone in that lab is either making it on the side or pawning the materials off for someone else to use,” Akutagawa continues. “When Tachihara spoke with the lab supervisor, they made zero mention of the drug.” 

“Why would they mention it?”

“I'm only saying that lab staff could either be accomplices to this scheme…or they could be victims themselves.” Akutagawa makes a good point, that it would be reckless to just assume that the employees there are all a part of the plan. But it still feels off, and Dazai can't shake the feeling that there has to be someone close by that has their hands in all of this. 

“And what was the old man's role in all of this?” Dazai asks, immediately earning a look of disgust.

“Why would you assume our father would have any hand in this? He's dead, the least you can do now is respect his—”

“You don't fucking get it, do you?” Dazai interjects, not sure if he wants to laugh in Akutagawa’s face or scream or burst into tears. “That man was a monster who killed my mother.” 

“You don't have proof,” Akutagawa says, bitterly. “She—It was cancer, Dazai, and I know why you refuse to accept that.” 

“I'm done talking about this,” Dazai mutters darkly. “I know you're not so blinded by your own salvation that you can't see what's right in front of you. You're smarter than that.” 

“We're off topic anyway, we need to figure out who is signing off on this drug and letting it go to the Port Mafia.” 

“It wasn't off topic, I simply suggested we look into father's involvement,” Dazai reminds him. “If you trust him so dearly, then why the hesitation? If I were you, I'd be rushing to prove me wrong…” 

“I'm not wasting resources on your stupid vendetta—But if you insist, then I suppose you leave me no choice.”

“My sincerest apologies,” Dazai smirks, pressing his hands together in front of his chin, feigning sincerity. Akutagawa scowls at the gesture and turns on his heel, ready to make a dramatic exit. 

“Wait, I do have something else I wanted to ask,” Dazai says, remembering all the odd things he's been ruminating about lately. 

“What?” Akutagawa snaps, clearly still pissed about Dazai's words from a few seconds ago. 

“Have you thought about taking a mate any time soon?” 

“That's none of your business.” 

“Hmm… Well, I would have thought that if you were really trying to take my job, you'd at least be proactive and get a mate,” Dazai shrugs. “You know, since the board was so adamant with me.” 

“What do you want?” Akutagawa sighs. 

“What do I want?” he echoes. “I'm just looking out for you.”

“And I know you better than that. This—” he gestures vaguely in Dazai's direction, “—Isn't enough to fool me. Just tell me what you're thinking.” 

Dazai lets out a long sigh. “There's something weird about Chuuya…I'm suspicious of what goes on behind closed doors at that place. Dad trusted them…Who knows, maybe it's all related somehow?” 

“While I highly doubt that… How would me taking a mate help you with yours?” 

“It would give me something to compare him to. And hey, maybe they can be friends! I'm sure Chuuya would love a friend,” Dazai gushes, even though he's actually pretty sure that's not true. He doesn't seem to like other people very much. But then again maybe having another omega (one that he might even know) would help him adjust… and give Dazai some insight into what omegas are really like who come from the house. 

If it turns out that Akutagawa takes a mate, that's, well, normal… Then Dazai is more than certain who the real culprit is in this scenario. 

“I'll consider it,” Akutagawa finally says, which Dazai is actually surprised by. He thought for sure it would take a lot more convincing. 

“Really?” 

“While I hate to admit that you're right, taking a mate would only benefit my image in the company, and people may even begin to respect me on the same level as you… I'm not interested in romance or anything of the sort, so I might as well go to a mating house even though I consider them distasteful.” 

“Oh Akutagawa, you're a lifesaver, you know?” Dazai laughs. “Well, keep me updated okay? Once you bring them home, we can have a dinner party or something.” 

“Yes, that sounds lovely,” Akutagawa mutters before making a face to show that the idea actually makes him want to vomit. 

“Perfect!” 

“No promises, though. And focus on your job. Don't let anyone suspect anything—”

“Jeez, you think I don't know that? You do know who you're talking to, right?” Dazai teases. 

“Whatever.” This time, Akutagawa successfully makes his exit, finally leaving Dazai alone. 

This is all getting a bit ridiculous now. 

Everything Dazai does in every facet of his life has to be careful and calculated and it's exhausting. As much as he'd love to just cause a scene and upend the entire corporate world, it's nowhere near that simple.

If he were to just flippantly expose the mafia, he'd surely wind up dead before the story even made it to the press. 

When it comes to Chuuya…it's not that he's intimidated by Verlaine’s legal threats. He has his own connections to high-profile, shady lawyers and whatnot. However, he has to be careful with what he says and who he turns to for help because Chuuya's safety is on the line. And maybe he only just met the omega last week, but they are bonded. 

Not that it's an excuse. 

Because Dazai is acutely aware of the fact that he absolutely adores his feisty, weird, and tiny mate. He just can't get Chuuya out of his head no matter what he does. If Dazai had it his way, he'd stay home all day attached to his side and never ever leave. 

Dazai's personal phone rings. 

As expected, it's only Higuchi. Every time he's in the office, he has her swing by the penthouse at least once to check on Chuuya and make sure he's okay. Most of the reports he gets back involve Chuuya yelling at her for walking across his freshly mopped floors or telling her to fuck off because she doesn't live there. 

It's peace of mind for Dazai and quality entertainment. 

“Hello?” He grins as he answers the phone, ready for today's shenanigans. 

“Um, don't panic, but I think something's wrong.”  

Dazai's stomach drops immediately and he sits up. “Tell me. Where's Chuuya?” 

“He's here, but he won't come out of his room. And the house is a disaster, which is weird because he's usually really clean and—” 

“Stop rambling. There's a key to his bedroom in the—”

“The drawer on your nightstand, I know. I got into the bedroom and he's locked himself in the closet and I can't get a clear answer from him as to why—” 

“Higuchi, go back into his room and tell him I'm on the phone and want to talk to him. Now.” He's not angry, but his mind is spinning with a million different possibilities…Logic aside, all he can focus on is getting confirmation that his mate is safe. 

There's some rustling on the other end of the line, and Dazai can't make out any words, but he does eventually hear Chuuya's voice and the sound of a door slamming. 

“Dazai…” 

He freezes when Chuuya's voice comes through the phone. It's definitely Chuuya, but he sounds like he's out of breath and whimpering his name, which is extremely odd. 

“Chuuya? Are you okay? Tell me what's going on,” Dazai insists. 

“I'm fine—You're s-stupid…Ahh, fuck—She's annoying,” Chuuya pants, clearly trying and failing to pretend like he doesn't sound like he's—

Before he can think of anything else, Dazai's mind flashes to all the pills he's been refusing to take. 

“Chuuya, dear, listen to me,” he says, shuddering when Chuuya whines in response. “I'm leaving work early to come see you. Just stay right where you are.” 

“Mmm, okay, yeah you should come here and—No, you can't! You have to work! Don't worry about me I'm fucking fine. Just don't…Ahh, fuck, fuck…I'm fine.” 

“You don't sound fine. At all,” Dazai replies, gathering what he needs and storming out of the office with Chuuya still on the phone. Others in the office give him strange looks, but none of them question him about where he's going or why.

Admittedly, Dazai doesn't know much about heats. He knows what they are and that omegas go through them about once every other month, and that their pheromones get stronger. A lesser alpha might use a heat as an excuse to get laid, but Dazai has always been able to control himself. While heat pheromones are enticing, they've never sent into rut or made him lose his sense of right and wrong. 

“You're wrong, I'm fine!” 

“Darling, you don't have to lie for my sake. I'm coming home whether you're fine or not, so you might as well tell me what's going on,” Dazai says as the elevator takes him down to the main floor of the building. 

“I'm…I don't know,” Chuuya says after a long pause. His voice sounds smaller and quieter, and Dazai believes him. “You're on your way home?” 

“Getting in the car now,” Dazai tells him. There's already a driver out front waiting, and Dazai briefly pauses his conversation to tell the driver to take him home. “I'll be home in ten minutes. What are you doing in your closet?” 

“None of your damn business!” Chuuya snaps and suddenly hangs up. 

Dazai sighs deeply. 

At least he knows Chuuya is alive and isn't sick, he's just… in heat. 

The thought makes Dazai shudder. All of those medications he took before would have been a massive overdose for anyone else. Verlaine did mention that his heats were rather intense and that they could be uncontrollable at times. 

Believing anything Verlaine told him is a gamble at this point. But maybe not everything was a lie. Technically, it could be the Golden House at fault and not Verlaine, but for some reason that just doesn't sit right. 

On the way up to the penthouse, Dazai mentally prepares himself for approaching Chuuya in the closet.

He's going to smell incredible. 

You cannot, under any circumstances, touch him. 

The problem, which soon becomes abundantly clear, is that the pheromones hit him as soon as the elevator doors slide open. 

Lavender. 

Jasmine. 

Amber. 

It swirls and hangs in the air like a cloud of smoke, and Dazai has to cover his nose and mouth with his hands to avoid drinking it in like a lethal drug. 

“Higuchi why the fuck didn't you warn me?!” Dazai snaps as soon as he sees her in the kitchen, working on cleaning up the mess Chuuya had left behind. Bowls and plates litter the counter, glasses are stacked by the sink. Nothing is broken and there's no sign of a struggle, but Dazai still finds it incredibly odd. 

“I did! I told you about the mess!” she says, her hands up in surrender. 

“Not this—The smell.” 

“The smell?” she repeats. “Sir, I don't understand—There's no—”

“You can't…Fuck, right, you're a beta. Still, I'm surprised even you can't smell this.” Dazai scoffs. He doesn't mean for it to sound patronizing, and if it does, Higuchi doesn't react. 

“I mean…I do smell lavender, but I figured Chuuya must have sprayed something while he was cleaning,” she muses. 

“Shit,” Dazai mutters. He was mostly joking when he said that but if even a beta can smell him…

He's fucked. 

Before going to Chuuya's room, he heads to his own, stopping in his tracks immediately. Higuchi was right about the mess in there, too. All of his bedding has been stripped from the bed. He goes back into the hallway, eyeing the trail of stray socks that lead right to Chuuya's room. 

“What the hell?” he whispers to himself. 

His heart pounds in his chest, and he isn't proud of it, but his dick is also already throbbing. In the back of his mind, he knows he shouldn't go to see Chuuya like this, but he's too… curious? Worried? He's not exactly sure anymore. 

Chuuya's bedroom door opens easily, and the scent grows infinitely stronger. The closet almost glows in the distance, drawing Dazai in, tempting him to come closer. 

He swears he blinks and his hand is on the doorknob, gently twisting it and pulling the closet door open. 

Chuuya is in there, alright. 

Dazai isn't sure what he expected to find, but it surely isn't what he walks in on. 

The entire closet is stuffed to the brim with the bedding from Dazai's room, mixed in with what looks like a random assortment of his own clothes. 

And right in the middle of it all sits Chuuya, leaning back and dressed in nothing but one of Dazai's button-down shirts splayed open. His eyes are heavy and clouded with lust, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed red. A throw pillow conveniently rests between his opened thighs. 

This is—

“Alpha,” Chuuya says, his words slurred like he's been drinking. He hasn't—Dazai knows he hasn't. 

But it's strange, because he's almost positive that omegas are fully lucid in heat. Whatever this is, is on another level entirely. 

“Chuuya,” he breathes, cautiously, unable to tear his gaze away as the omega pulls the pillow out of the way and spreads his legs even wider. 

He's seen him naked before, briefly. 

Not like this. 

Nothing like this. 

His sex is red and swollen, but perfectly puffy and glistening with slick that coats all the way down his thighs. Just as his file had described, his clit is rather large—typical for a male omega, but even compared to the norm, he's big. It's swollen and eager and just long enough for Dazai to slide it between his lips and suck—

No! 

No, he can't. 

He can't. 

“Why are you just standing there?” Chuuya snaps. “Aren't you going to fuck me?” 

“No, I'm not, you're not—I can't take advantage of you like this. I should leave…” 

“You can't leave!” Suddenly Chuuya’s voice changes to something much more desperate. He jolts up onto his knees and grabs Dazai by the wrist in an attempt to bring him down. Chuuya isn't that strong, but in this moment his pull is like gravity, and Dazai can't fight the force that has him falling into the bedding. 

Dazai’s head is clouded now, filled with nothing but his pretty omega's sweet scent. He lays next to Chuuya, struggling to keep up as the omega straddles his lap, his wet, heated sex fitted perfectly over the bulge in his pants. 

“Fuck, Chuuya, I can't you're not—” he mumbles. 

“Why not?” Chuuya demands to know, leaning in and gripping the fabric of his shirt tight. 

“You're not lucid, I…I don't wanna take advantage of you,” Dazai tells him, even though he's teetering dangerously close to throwing caution into the wind.

“What the fuck,” Chuuya chokes, tears suddenly filling his eyes. 

“No, don't cry, please,” Dazai begs, his heart already breaking at the sight of his omega's tears. 

“Shut up,” Chuuya says, before choking back a sob. He rolls off of Dazai and onto his side so that his back is to him. 

“I didn't mean to make you cry, I just…I don't want our first time to be like this,” Dazai explains, despite the fact that his inner alpha is screaming at him to just put it in already.

Chuuya doesn't respond, his body jerking and shaking. Worried, Dazai sits up and turns him back onto his back. 

And. Well. 

Chuuya isn't crying anymore. 

But he does have three fingers shoved knuckle-deep in his cunt. 

“If you're not gonna help me then don't fucking touch me,” Chuuya snaps angrily. 

Help him? 

Dazai watches, morbidly curious as Chuuya continues to finger himself vigorously. It's like he's searching for something that isn't there, eager for release that he can't achieve. 

Chuuya groans loudly and turns over onto his stomach, shamelessly shoving one of the pillows (one of Dazai’s pillows) in between his legs so that he can grind himself against it. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Chuuya moans, choking on another sob. 

“Does it hurt?” Dazai asks, his hand ghosting over his own election. Wait, no, he shouldn't touch himself, this isn't something he should be getting off to. 

“Mmmm, stupid, stupid, stupid alpha!” Chuuya grits, not really answering his question. 

Dazai sits up and pulls his phone out of his pocket, quickly dialing Yosano's number. His hands shake as he puts the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?” she answers, thankfully quickly. 

“I have a problem,” Dazai says to her, unaware of how his voice sounds, his eyes still glued to the omega masturbating in front of him. “Chuuya's—He's in heat. I don't know what to do.” 

“Seriously? You don't know how to satisfy an omega in heat?” she snickers. 

“Not helpful. He hasn't been taking his meds.” It's the first time he's admitted it out loud, but Chuuya doesn't even seem to hear him. 

Yosano pauses. 

“Dazai…If this mate of yours has any connection to that study…” 

“What? Just tell me. Is there an antidote or something? He's in pain—Can he take any of those meds now?” Dazai's at a loss, and it doesn't help that he's so distracted by pheromones. That, and all the blood rushing south. 

“The meds aren't going to work if he's already in heat. He needs a knot, Dazai,” she tells him. Dazai's stomach twists, watching as Chuuya flips onto his back and moves to try to finger himself again.

“I can't. Isn't that fucked up?” Dazai swallows thickly. 

“Don't think of it that way…He's your mate, Dazai. If he's in pain right now, I can guarantee he wants it to be you…” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Don't ask me. Ask him. Let me guess. Right now, he's nesting.” 

Nesting? Is that what all the pillows and shit are for? A nest? 

“Yeah…” 

“And are you in his nest right now?” 

Dazai swallows again. “Yes.” 

“An omega is never going to invite someone they don't want into their nest. Trust me. If he let you in willingly, then there's nothing to worry about.” 

“Okay,” Dazai whispers. “I have to go now. Thanks.” 

He doesn't know if Yosano says anything else. He just lets the phone slip from his hands and fall somewhere among the bedding. 

“Chuuya, darling? Tell me what you want me to do,” Dazai says. 

The omega freezes, his eyes wide as they lock onto Dazai in a way that's almost feral. 

Fuck. 

“I want you to give me your knot,” he says, without hesitation. “Please.” 

Something in Dazai snaps right then and there. He can't take it anymore. The tears, the suffering, the scent. He has to do something. 

Chuuya wants this. 

He needs this. 

Hands still shaking, he unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off. Before he can get to his pants, Chuuya is pulling at his belt and popping open the button, impatiently tugging at the fabric. He sits back against the pillows once he's free of his clothing, and Chuuya is on him immediately, straddling his lap and already trying to slide onto his cock—

“Wait,” Dazai chokes. 

“What now?” Chuuya whines, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He recoils like he’s been wounded and it hurts. 

Dazai pushes his hair back from his face, gingerly holding his omega's face between his hands. Even with his hair a mess and his face stained with tears, Dazai thinks he's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Chuuya pauses, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion like he isn't sure what Dazai even means. 

“Why are you asking?” Chuuya scoffs. And the fact that that's what has Chuuya confused makes Dazai want to cry. 

He doesn't have time to, though, because the next thing he knows, Chuuya is leaning in and kissing Dazai himself. As he does, he can feel the way the head of his cock slides so easily between his wet folds. It's hot and soft and fucking incredible.  

Unable to hold himself back any more, he pulls Chuuya over himself abruptly, sheathing the omega over his length and plunging into his drenched, throbbing sex. 

“Fuck!” Dazai grits against Chuuya's lips as the omega moans. He immediately pulls back and steadies his hands against Dazai's shoulders, moving his hips and moaning some more. 

“That's so much better. Oh my god it's perfect,” Chuuya cries out. 

Dazai can't help the growl that escapes his throat, and suddenly he has Chuuya on his back and thrusts into him from above. 

Quickly, he can feel himself slipping away, giving into the heavy cloud of lust and pheromones, consumed by Chuuya himself. All he knows from then on is Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya…

His omega. 

Chapter Text

The next morning, when Chuuya wakes up, he finds himself with his cheek squished against Dazai's bare chest. It's not a bad position to find himself in, but it's also pretty disorienting. 

The last thing he remembers is…

Oh. 

He can feel himself getting red all over again as he lets his eyes trail down Dazai's body, to the tangled sheets strewn across them, and the way they do absolutely nothing to cover the thick alpha cock that rests against his stomach. 

Chuuya had acted so…so stupid, hadn't he? He fucking cried and guilted Dazai into sleeping with him because he was too damn horny. That's pathetic, isn't it? 

The only reason he even went into heat in the first place was because he stupidly decided to stop taking his medications. He’s never gone without his meds as far as he can remember. But there was something in his gut telling him that he shouldn’t. Which, he knows that’s stupid. 

At the same time, he can’t get Kouyou’s warning out of his head. He checked his bags that first night, and the only thing amiss was the fact that Dazai had taken the meds out of his bags so that they were in his possession. Maybe that’s what she was trying to tell him—That Dazai was up to something and it had to do with his meds? 

Fuck.  

None of this really makes any sense, and it just makes Chuuya’s head hurt. Life was so much easier when all he had to worry about was entertaining a few losers every other day and then could mind his own business for the rest of the time. He’s been out of the Golden House for a week, and he’s already fucked up. Refusing meds, inconveniencing his alpha— 

And now Chuuya's lying here the next morning, basking in the afterglow of heat sex like he deserved any of it. 

Ready to cry again, Chuuya moves to pull himself away so that he can get dressed and start cleaning up before Dazai inevitably wakes up and scolds him for being such an inconvenience. 

But when he tries to get up, the arm around his waist stiffens and pulls him back down, keeping him trapped there. 

“Where are you going?” Dazai asks, his voice low and sleepy.

Chuuya blinks in confusion as Dazai rolls onto his side so that they can face each other. As he does, the alpha's hand stays firmly on his hip, like he's making sure Chuuya doesn't try to run away or hide from him. 

His heart races in his chest. 

“I'm sorry,” Chuuya says. “I was out of line, I need to go clean up.” 

“What are you talking about?” the alpha groans, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. “When were you out of line?” 

“Yesterday, I made you leave work early because I couldn't handle…um, my heat , on my own.” Chuuya can now clearly see that that's what was happening to him. It just snuck up so fast that it was hard to grasp what it was before it was too late. 

“Don't you worry about that, Chuuya,” Dazai says softly, letting the hand on his hip trail gently along his side. “How are you feeling?” 

How is he feeling? 

That's a great question, because Chuuya really isn’t sure. 

“Um…Sticky?” 

Dazai's lips crack into a grin so wide that the corners of his eyes wrinkle. 

“I guess we should wash up, huh?” He chuckles, but makes no move to get up. “Other than that…How are you feeling? Are you hurt? Are you…out of your heat?” 

“I guess I'm fine,” Chuuya says, staring at the wall beyond Dazai's shoulders as he takes inventory of his body. His hips are a little sore, but he definitely isn't in heat anymore. 

He gasps quietly and returns his gaze to Dazai's as he remembers something. 

“What?” 

“I just remembered—”

“What? What did you remember?” Dazai interrupts, his hands moving to Chuuya's shoulders in a surprising amount of interest. 

“Am I pregnant now?” Chuuya asks him. 

“Ah, fuck, it’s possible,” Dazai groans, rolling onto his back again and releasing his grip on Chuuya. “I can call Yosano and see if she has a morning after pill you can take.”

“A morning after…what is that?” Chuuya asks, his brain suddenly spinning from the barrage of emotions that come along with the realization that he's probably pregnant. Actually more likely than not, because he can’t think of any other reason his heat would be so short without taking his medications. Typically, his heats would last a few days, and gradually lighten up…but this one came on so intensely and then ended in a flash.

“The morning after pill?” Dazai repeats, curious eyes following Chuuya as he sits up. 

“Yeah.” 

“It's a pill that essentially terminates the pregnancy before it even begins.” 

Chuuya stares at the alpha for a moment, his ears buzzing with nothing but static as he tries to catch up with what Dazai is saying to him. He wants to… terminate it. 

Doesn't want Chuuya's baby. 

Before he can think better of it, he grabs one of the throw pillows closest to him and hurls it right into Dazai's face. 

“Fuck you! You crazy fucking alpha, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” Chuuya shouts, scrambling to his feet and storming out of the closet. 

“Wait, Chuuya, come back—” 

“No! Leave me alone !” he yells again, stomping off into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. As soon as he's alone, he realizes that he's shaking. 

This is wrong, isn’t it? 

Dazai bought him for a purpose…isn't he supposed to want Chuuya to get pregnant? Isn't that what he's here for? Everything is so damn complicated with him and Chuuya just doesn't fucking understand why. 

Sometimes he thinks he does…Every now and then he'll say something and Chuuya can feel something looming in the back of his mind, just barely out of reach. 

“What happens after you match with an alpha?” Chuuya asked, sprawled out on his side along a stiff, embroidered couch. The room he was in was small, and Chuuya remembers the walls being lined with tall bookshelves on one side and a large mirror on the other. 

He didn't like looking into the mirror, because something about it always felt strange to him. When he looked at his reflection, he almost felt like someone else was staring back at him instead. 

The room was somewhere at his finishing school, though he can't quite place exactly where in that building it was… 

“An alpha will create a bonding mark once they've paid your dowry,” the man in the room with him had replied. 

Strange, yet again, how he can remember the gold foil on the book bindings so clearly…but this man's face is nothing but void when he tries to picture him. He knew this man. For whatever reason, he trusted this man…

“No, I mean after that, when I get home. Verlaine said I gotta go live with them or some shit like that,” Chuuya scoffed, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling instead. The man chuckled at the question, like he found Chuuya's ignorance amusing. 

“I suppose it depends on the alpha. Tell me, Chuuya, what is your role again?” 

Chuuya clutches at his chest with one hand and his stomach with the other. There it is again—That unsettling feeling…like he can vaguely see the rest of this memory in the distance, yet he just can't put a finger on it, can't get it to materialize even in his mind. Out of reach, like he's trying to grab a handful of smoke. 

He's always known that he has gaps in his memories, and that most of his lapses are from when he was a child in the lab. Most of the time he can block it out and accept the way things are, but every now and then, he feels far too aware and it makes him feel like he's choking. 

Maybe he should tell Dazai…Maybe Dazai would understand—

Seemingly out of nowhere, he can feel a sharp pain in the back of his skull. He hisses and covers his head with his arms, wincing at the sudden, yet quickly passing surge. 

What the fuck was that?

Dazai knocks on the door a few seconds later and Chuuya nearly jumps out of his own skin. 

“Chuuya? Are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you, I just thought…Can we talk?” Dazai asks through the closed bathroom door. 

Chuuya's throat tightens, and for several moments his brain feels like a slot machine, spinning chaotically, desperately trying to find the right answer to land on. 

“No! Leave me alone!” he shouts, but then, contradicting himself, opens the bathroom door anyway. Dazai stands before him wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, his eyes wide like he feels guilty or something. 

Chuuya doesn't know why. He's an alpha; Chuuya can get mad all he wants but at the end of the day Dazai is the one that gets the final say in what they do. That's how it is. 

“I'm sorry, Chuuya, I feel awful—I didn't want our first time sleeping together to be like this,” he explains, his voice weirdly quiet. Chuuya frowns. 

“Like what?” 

“You were in heat,” Dazai says, as if that's an answer that Chuuya should accept. And he wants to, but at the same time it just makes so little sense that his head feels like it's going to fucking explode at any moment. 

“So fucking what?!” he snaps. “That's what's supposed to happen! I go into heat and you're supposed to… You’re supposed to take care of me. What kind of idiot would buy an omega and then not even want to fuck them when they're in heat?” 

Dazai just stares back at him, an unsettling, blank expression on his face. It's that look again. The look that makes Chuuya feel small, like he's missing something that everyone else is in on but him. 

“It's not that I didn't want to…” Dazai says, quietly. “You've only been here for a week. And while I'm definitely… attracted to you… I was hoping we'd be able to have sex outside of your heat first.” 

“Why?” Chuuya snaps. 

“Why do I find you attractive?” 

“No, obviously I'm attractive, why does it matter if I'm in heat?” 

Dazai pauses again, but this time his lips spread into a wide grin and he laughs. 

“Oh Chuuya, I'm glad you at least know that,” he sighs, casually leaning against the doorframe that leads into the bathroom. Chuuya still glares at him, studying the way his eyes stay locked on his face, but every now and then they'll falter, quickly stealing a glance at Chuuya's nude body. 

Chuuya smirks. 

“And it matters because if you weren't in heat, we'd be able to take things nice and slow…” He trails off for a moment, but Chuuya stays silent, waiting for him to continue. “I'd be able to take my time and really make you feel good.” 

“I thought it felt just fine,” Chuuya says, stubbornly. 

“Just fine?” 

“Mhmm,” Chuuya lies. Truthfully, it was better than fine. It was incredible and felt great. But he's still mad and not in the mood to give Dazai any compliments. 

“Guess I'll have to prove myself to you later,” Dazai says, his voice low. 

Chuuya freezes as the alpha takes a few steps closer, until there's barely any space left between them. His breath hitches involuntarily when Dazai's fingers lightly brush against Chuuya's messed up hair. He leans in just a little closer, close enough that Chuuya can feel the heat radiating from his lips. Though his stance stays strong, his mind falters as he's suddenly hit with the recent memory of Dazai's lips covering his, devouring him while they—

“I have to get ready for work. You should shower.” 

With that, Dazai turns around and leaves Chuuya there, stunned and speechless. 

After giving his slot-machine brain a few moments to catch up, Chuuya lets out a loud, frustrated groan and slams the bathroom door shut again. Stupid Dazai. 

No. 

Wait. 

He needs to calm down. Dazai is…he's all Chuuya has now, isn't he? As frustrating and confusing as this all is, it's not like he has any other choice. He takes a moment to steady his breath, and then instead of taking a shower, he emerges from the bathroom and marches into the kitchen. He can pick out Dazai's scent there, and he is there, wearing an undershirt and pajama pants, and talking to that one alpha that visited that one time. 

Whatever his damn name is. 

“Chuuya! Oh my god ,” Dazai gasps, immediately rushing over to shield him. 

“What?” Chuuya scoffs, scowling when Dazai takes his own t-shirt off and slips it over Chuuya's head. He goes along with it, even though he doesn't really see what the big deal is. 

“I'm…sorry,” the other alpha says, his ears red as he turns away. “I see you haven't made any progress with his manners, Dazai.” 

“Shut up Akutagawa, it's not my fault you've never seen an omega naked before,” Dazai mutters. “That being said, Chuuya, you really should wear clothes around the house, okay?” 

“Whatever, fine,” Chuuya says.“I just needed to tell you something.” 

“Oh?” 

“I'm sorry for yelling at you. I don't want to get arrested, so I'll try not to yell when you're being stupid,” Chuuya says, then grimaces when he realizes that he probably shouldn't call the alpha stupid, either. 

“Arrested?” Dazai questions, and he and Akutagawa exchange glances. 

“Yeah,” Chuuya shrugs, without elaborating. 

“Why would you get arrested?” Dazai asks him, weirdly confused. 

Chuuya blinks. 

He glances over at Akutagawa, who is also giving him an expectant look. As if he, too, is somehow wondering why he'd be arrested over something like that. It was frustrating when Dazai would look at him like that…it’s almost disturbing when they both look at him like that, though. Now more than ever, he's starting to feel like he's missing something. 

“I don't know— if you fucking kicked me out I'd get arrested, what else is there?” 

“I'm sorry, was your mate dropped on his head as a child?” Akutagawa asks. Chuuya scowls in his direction.

“Shh,” Dazai hisses, quieting him with a harsh glare. The other alpha just rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Chuuya, dear, I'm not going to kick you out for yelling at me. Though, even if I did—Which I won’t— I doubt you’d have to worry about getting arrested.” 

Chuuya blinks. “Oh, because I’m mated?” 

“What?” Dazai responds. 

“They only arrest unmated omegas that are out past curfew,” Chuuya says, thinking he’s finally got all the semantics figured out. It’s not his fault he isn’t as well-versed as he thought he was when it comes to Japanese laws! 

Dazai and Akutagawa don’t say anything in response, but Chuuya’s already feeling a little better about the situation. Dazai doesn’t mind, and he doesn’t have to worry about getting kicked out. That’s a good thing. 

“I’m going to go take a shower now,” Chuuya tells Dazai, flashing him a bright smile before he turns and hurries back to his room. 

“What the hell was that?” Akutagawa hisses, thankfully waiting until Chuuya is out of earshot. 

“I told you,” Dazai says, letting out a deep sigh. His mind is still reeling as he adds the fact that Chuuya thinks there’s some sort of legal curfew set for unmated omegas. What’s worse, is that it seems like he really, truly believes that. 

“And you want me to pick up my own delusional omega? I would rather die,” Akutagawa groans. 

“That’s a bit dramatic even for you,” Dazai mutters. “You know, you don’t have to choose a mate just because you meet with someone. You could go there and talk to a few omegas and then decide not to go with any of them.” 

Akutagawa lets out a long sigh. “And how does this benefit you, exactly?” 

“Well, you could let me tag along as emotional support? They offered to let Higuchi wait inside, but she chose to wait in the car the whole time. Maybe—”

“Fine, you can come with me,” Akutagawa grits. “On one condition.” 

“Hmm?” 

“After we settle this, you’re going to meet with the Port Mafia in my stead.” 

Dazai’s self-assured grin withers in an instant. He hasn’t seen any of those guys in years, and would prefer to keep his distance as much as he can. That’s why he has people like Akutagawa to handle the seedy underbelly shit so he doesn’t have to. 

There was a time when Dazai was a little more hands-on with that side of the family business, but it nearly got himself killed on numerous occasions. The years following his mother’s death were bleak and for the longest time, he’d been convinced that there wasn’t any point in trying to lead a life worth living—What was the use in trying to stand for anything at all when the shitty assholes of the world were always the ones who triumphed in the end anyway? 

Now, though, his life isn’t the only one on the line. 

“Fine,” he grits. 

Three days later, he once again finds himself outside those thick, high-security gates that shield the Golden House from the outside world. 

“Please state your full name and the purpose of your visit.”  

The voice that comes over the intercom hits Dazai like deja-vu. Not too long ago, he’d been driving up to these gates with an appointment to meet Chuuya for the first time. 

“Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, I have an appointment,” he says, stiffly. The gates buzz and slowly open to let them in, and Akutagawa drives towards the main building to park. 

“You know, you could at least pretend you want to be here?” 

“Why would I when I don’t?” 

“Once again, you are such a stick in the mud, you know? I hope none of these poor omegas get stuck with you,” Dazai teases. Akutagawa seethes, but doesn’t respond. 

They both get out of the car and head into the main building. When they first enter through the doors, the lobby is empty, but they don’t have to wait much longer before that same orange-haired beta he’d met before enters the room. 

“Akutagawa, it’s very nice to meet you,” she says politely. “Who is joining you today?” 

“Oh, you don’t remember me? I was just here a couple of—”

“Sorry sir, there are a lot of customers who come through these doors, it’s not possible for me to remember everyone,” she cuts him off rather abruptly. Dazai stares back at her, studying her firm gaze…and then following it as it darts quickly in one direction. 

To a small, easy-to-miss, security camera in the corner of the room. 

Odd. 

But too odd to be just a coincidence, so he’ll play along for now. 

“Is that so? Well, I had such a great experience here that it convinced my brother to seek a mate from the Golden House as well,” Dazai says. “I’m just here for moral support.” 

“Well, sir, you’re welcome to wait on that bench over there until Mr. Akutagawa is finished,” she says before turning back to Akutagawa and offering him a much more pleasant tone. Dazai watches them disappear in the opposite direction before he finally sighs, walks to the bench she’d indicated previously, and sits down. 

Considering the traditional styles in the house, down to the clothing they wear here, Dazai wonders how much sense it would make for their omegas to also have very traditional ideals. It could explain some things, sure, but the more Dazai thinks of it, the more it still doesn’t really add up. 

When he thinks of traditional omegas and alphas, he thinks of couples who adhere to gender roles with omegas being stay-at-home moms and cooking dinner for their working mates. Not like, literal subhuman treatment. There’s traditional, and then there’s downright archaic. 

Most of the people he’s known to use mating houses are just… old school weirdos who prefer arranged marriages or just have enough money to prioritize convenience over connection. 

As he sits there, a couple of betas walk by, quietly talking between themselves. Judging by their matching robes and the fact that they’re both betas, he can assume they must be house staff. Being polite, Dazai gives them a light nod and smiles. As they pass him, one of the girls drops a small piece of paper on the ground. 

“Oh, excuse me, I think you dropped something,” Dazai says, attempting to get their attention. It’s just a slip of paper, but it could have something important written on it. But maybe it’s just trash, because the betas don’t seem to even hear Dazai, and before he can say anything, they’re out of sight again. 

With a heavy sigh, Dazai picks up the slip of paper, ready to throw it away, when he realizes there is something written on it. 

Turn left at the end of the hall. Third door on the right. 

He shoves the slip back into his pocket so as to not linger on it for too long, and then sits back down on the bench. Is this…It has to be from that one lady, right? Worst case scenario, he can follow the directions on the slip and if anyone asks, he was just looking for the restroom…

After waiting another minute or so, he gets up from the bench and wanders down the hallway, turns left, and winds up at the third door on the right. Quietly, he slips inside, confused to find himself in what appears to be…a laundry room? No one else is inside, but one wall is lined with washers and dryers, which strikes Dazai as funny, because he definitely would have assumed that everything would be washed in a river and then hung up to dry in a place like this. 

A few moments later, the door opens and closes again. 

Dazai’s gut was right after all. 

“So you do remember me?” he smirks, turning back to see the orange-haired beta locking the door behind her. 

“Keep your voice down,” she whispers. “This is the only room in this wing without cameras. You should not be here. If he finds out I’ve made contact with you—”

“Who?” 

“I can’t…” she trails off, her eyes widening when she realizes she must have misspoke. “I’ve said too much. I shouldn’t even be meeting with you but I just…how is he doing?” 

“Chuuya?” Dazai asks, though who else would she be asking about? “He’s…certainly interesting. But I have a feeling you know exactly how interesting he is.” 

Her expression doesn’t change despite Dazai’s accusing tone. 

“He has some very strange ideas about what life is supposed to look like, do you know anything about that?” Dazai questions. 

“He was very sheltered,” she replies, as if it really is that simple. “I’ll be honest when I say that I don’t know a lot about where he came from or why…I was given very specific instructions about how to take care of him while he was here…Has he been to the doctor yet?” 

Dazai gives her a puzzled look. An odd question to ask—

Wait. 

Ranpo had said the agency received an anonymous tip, didn’t they? Is it possible that this woman was the one who tipped them off? 

“He has,” Dazai nods. “I think they’ll take very good care of him.” 

She lets out the smallest sigh of relief, clearly staying very well-reserved despite whatever emotions must be coursing through her. 

“That’s…That’s good,” she nods. “I’m glad.” 

“And I plan on taking very good care of him as well,” Dazai assures her. “I can promise you that much.” 

She gives him a small smile before straightening up again. “I have to go, I’ve been in here for too long already, but…Tell him Ane-san says hello, okay? Please?” 

“Of course,” Dazai smiles. 

She gives him a nod and then disappears from the room once more. 

Their conversation was brief and vague, but Dazai is pretty sure he learned a lot from it. 

First of all, Ane-san is afraid of someone—Someone who might be watching her every move. 

That, and she was the one who tipped off the Armed Detective Agency. 

With those two things in mind, he’s already able to rule out the house itself being the source of Chuuya’s struggles. Akutagawa will be glad to know that he doesn’t actually need to take a mate now, and can wait if he really wants to. 

By the time he leaves the laundry room and makes his way back to the lobby, Akutagawa is already standing there and waiting for him. 

“Ready to leave already?” Dazai chuckles, before his eyes fall to the leather-bound folder in his arms. The same type that Dazai knows to hold the file of a potential mate. “Whatcha got there?” 

“None of your damn business,” Akutagawa says, recoiling and gripping the portfolio tighter. 

“You weren’t even gone that long, how’d you pick someone out already?” Dazai asks, making Akutagawa’s face contort even further. 

“I’ve decided to forgo a meeting,” Akutagawa finally says. 

“Seriously? You chose an omega you haven’t even met yet?” Dazai says in disbelief. 

“His file stated that he was an orphan, a part of a charity program where they give spots to omegas who want a chance at a better life—The proceeds of his dowry go towards continuing the program. I thought it was a particularly noble cause either way,” Akutagawa explains. 

“Oh, how very noble of you Akutagawa,” Dazai comments sarcastically. 

“It’s also far more economical than spending eight-hundred thousand on a dowry.” 

“It was eight-hundred million.” Dazai corrects him. 

“You’re only furthering my point. Anyway, I don’t need to argue about this with you, because it does not matter what you think. I’ll be meeting with him in an hour to seal our bond, and you can tell your weird, over-priced omega that he can have dinner ready for us by seven.” 

Dazai has several thoughts about the fact that Akutagawa’s timeline for mating this mystery omega is far more expedited than all the hoops he had to jump through just to bring Chuuya home. But it only continues to solidify the conclusions he’s starting to form in his mind. 

“Perfect, I’ll have Higuchi pick me up and I’ll head home to prepare. What’s this omega’s name? I’ll ask Chuuya if he knows him.” 

Akutagawa freezes, like he's genuinely forgotten what it was, and then quickly peeks inside the file. 

“Nakajima Atsushi.” 

Chapter Text

“I have a surprise for you,” Dazai says, finally approaching Chuuya a few hours after he gets back from whatever errand he’d been running with Akutagawa. Chuuya startles at his abrupt entrance, the knife in his hand almost slipping against the cutting board. He looks up at the alpha, who is now leaning fully against the island counter across from him. 

“I don’t like surprises,” Chuuya tells him, flatly. He's already in a sour mood—All he was told this morning was that he had to go out and would be back later. Which is fine. But Dazai also could have just left like he was going to work without making a point to be vague and facetious. 

Stupid Higuchi wouldn't budge either when Chuuya tried to ask her where he was. 

“Well then, how about I tell you and then it won’t be a surprise anymore?” 

Chuuya’s frown only deepens. “I don't care.” 

He does care. It's driving him fucking crazy, but he can't tell Dazai that. He also probably can't tell Dazai that he knows he's already pregnant.

At first, it could have been a mistake—Maybe he misjudged when his heat ended. It could have just faded out after sleeping with his alpha, which would make sense. But if that were the case, he definitely would have felt the lingering effects. 

Instead it stopped instantly. 

And that can only mean one thing when it comes to Chuuya. 

He vaguely remembers doctors talking about his meds, and how his heats were too intense. It's not like that's a completely unique experience, though. While Chuuya is different because of where he comes from, he also knows that other omegas take meds for their heats, too. 

The difference is that, unmedicated, their heats will actually stop whether they get pregnant or not.

More than likely, Dazai already knows. And he didn't seem thrilled about the idea last time it was brought up, so Chuuya decides to just keep his mouth shut until the alpha says something about it. 

“Oh? Really?” Dazai quips, batting his long, dumb eyelashes and purposely humoring him. Chuuya rolls his eyes and with his next chop, he brings the knife down hard and loud against the cutting board.

“Mhmm, it doesn't matter.” 

“Chuuya, what am I gonna do with you? You're so mean to me,” he teases. While he hasn't been with Dazai for very long, he's at least caught on to the fact that the alpha loves to tease, and that more than half of what he says can't be taken at face value. It's as entertaining as it is infuriating. 

“I can be meaner.” 

“I believe that,” he chuckles. 

“Just get it over with!” 

“What?” 

“I know you're gonna tell me anyway, so just get on with it already,” he grumbles, only briefly letting himself glance at his mate. 

He swallows thickly. 

Would things be easier if Dazai wasn't so attractive? At the very least, he wouldn't be fooled by the possibility that he might one day actually fall in love. 

Even believing that for a second would be dangerous, simply because it doesn't fucking exist. All those movies are just that—movies. Fake. Scripted. Fantasy. 

And yet for some reason Chuuya keeps having this stupid, nagging, inkling of hope. 

“Make enough for four. We have dinner guests tonight.” 

Chuuya slams the knife down and groans. 

“Who? Someone stupid? Your stupid brother?” 

Dazai throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah, actually. He picked out a mate from the Golden House today.” 

Chuuya gasps and grips the knife again, the motion oddly involuntary. “Who?! Who did he get? I don't want to see any of those idiots.” 

Even though that's kind of a lie. There are a few people he'd like to see, but he hasn't allowed himself to really think about it because it's such a small possibility that there's really no point. And it's not like he'd be able to see Ane-san. 

“Said his name is Atsushi?” 

Chuuya stares at him for a moment, instantly remembering that silver-haired omega that had joined the house on one of his last days. He was bright-eyed and a hopeless romantic. Really annoying. 

But then he thinks of Akutagawa, who never smiles and is always making rude comments to Dazai. 

The corners of his lips twitch. He tries to hold it in, he really does. But he can't help the sudden laughter that erupts from his throat. His eyes water and his cheeks burn from the stretch of his smile. 

When he can finally catch his breath, he realizes that Dazai is smiling, too. Except his smile is soft and his eyes are full of warmth, like he's getting some sort of fulfillment just from watching Chuuya. 

“What?” 

“I don't think I've ever heard you laugh,” Dazai says, softly. Chuuya's cheeks burn for a new reason now. “It's nice, I wish I could hear it more often.” 

Chuuya swallows. “Shut up.” 

“But now you have to tell me what's so funny about that,” he grins. 

“I don't know, I just thought about the two of them standing next to each other and it…it's funny,” Chuuya shrugs. “Atsushi’s weird. I only knew him for like, two days.” 

“Oh? Weird how?” 

“I don't know…weird? He's just weird,” he scoffs. 

“Akutagawa said he didn't even meet him, just chose him based off of his file,” Dazai chuckles. 

“Oh my god,” Chuuya gasps, his smile creeping up on him again. “He's gonna lose his shit. They're coming over tonight?” 

“Mhmm, very soon actually,” Dazai confirms. 

He tries to go back to chopping up what he needs for dinner, but then Dazai continues.  

“I saw someone there today…She told me to tell you that Ane-san says hello.” 

Chuuya freezes, his eyes snapping up to the alpha once more. “You saw her?” 

“Yeah, she wanted to know how you're doing.” 

“What did you tell her?” Chuuya asks. 

“That you're a pain in the ass and I want a refund,” Dazai teases. Chuuya glares. “Kidding! I told her you're adjusting. She misses you.” 

“Hah, I knew it,” he scoffs, doing his best to ignore the sudden pang in his heart. 

“You were really close with her, huh?” Dazai muses, and Chuuya suddenly feels like this might be an interrogation. 

“I lived with her for five years,” he shrugs. 

“I suppose you did…How are you feeling?” 

“What's with all the questions?” Chuuya mutters. 

“We haven't talked much since your heat ended, I guess I'm just checking,” Dazai says, after a careful pause. “Should I schedule an appointment with Yosano? Just in case…you know.”

“What?” Chuuya's being purposely obtuse now, but whatever. If Dazai thinks he knows so much then he should have no problem just coming out and saying what's on his mind. He's the alpha afterall. 

“Or at least take a test soon,” he suggests. Chuuya deadpans until he decides to elaborate. “To confirm whether or not you're pregnant.” 

Hearing that word leave Dazai's lips is weirdly exciting.

“I don't need a stupid test to confirm, I'm obviously not in heat anymore,” Chuuya scoffs, not really thinking too much about his words. Not until he looks up and sees the way Dazai's expression has darkened. A pit forms in his stomach when he realizes he might have made a mistake. 

He could have meant anything—Ha, maybe he can just play it off that he's crazy and doesn't know what he's talking about! Everyone around here already acts like that anyway whenever Chuuya gives his thoughts on anything.

It's fine. 

There's no way Dazai made any sort of connection about what Chuuya knows just from that. 

“What do you mean?” Dazai asks, his tone even. 

Fuck.

What is he supposed to say?!

What would a normal omega say?

“Um—” 

Thankfully, before Dazai can pressure him further, the elevator rings, signalling the arrival of their guests. 

“Oh! They're already here?” he asks, quickly changing the subject. 

“Guess so,” Dazai mumbles. Chuuya hates when he does this. 

He definitely noticed. 

His throat is dry when he tries to swallow, and he decides to distract himself from the sudden discomfort by hurrying out of the kitchen and towards the entryway. As he arrives, sure enough, that same bright-eyed omega he'd met back at the Golden House wanders in, marveling at the penthouse while Akutagawa enters behind him, scowling. 

Chuuya hides his snicker. 

“Oh wow this place is so nice it's—Chuuya! It really is you! Do you really live here? It's really amazing, isn't it? Do you love it?” Atsushi gushes, bounding over to him excitedly. Chuuya blinks, not having to turn around to know that Dazai is coming up behind him. 

“It's fine,” Chuuya tells him. 

“Ungrateful,” Akutagawa mutters, still glaring as always. Apparently Atsushi’s sunny disposition hasn’t rubbed off on him yet.

“That's not very nice, we're guests here,” Atsushi suddenly snaps, surprising both Chuuya and Akutagawa by the looks of it. 

Chuuya stares because there's no way Akutagawa’s going to let that one slide without reaming him out for it—

“Yeah, Akutagawa, you're a guest in my home, you should be gracious,” Dazai says, catching up to them. He then reaches out to take Atsushi’s hand. “It's lovely to meet you, I apologize for my brother's behavior.” 

“You must be Chuuya's alpha! My name is Atsushi,” he says, his voice friendly. 

And just friendly. 

But still, Chuuya immediately decides he doesn't like watching Dazai talk to another omega. 

“Okay, that's enough,” Chuuya scoffs, moving to pull on Dazai's arms. His hands barely touch his bicep when he freezes and thinks better of himself. “Ah, I mean, I have to finish cooking. I don't have time for this shit.” 

Then he storms away and furiously throws himself into finalizing their dinner preparations. 

—

It doesn't take long for Dazai to figure out what had Chuuya laughing so hard when he'd told him who Akutagawa’s mate is. Atsushi is nearly Akutagawa’s opposite in every way, and it's so hard not to tease him relentlessly for it. 

“I was so shocked when I found out I'd been chosen! I've only been there for two weeks!” Atsushi explains, vibrantly recounting the story of how they met … this morning. It's funny.

Dazai also can't help but notice the gauze taped to the side of his neck—A very obvious indication that Akutagawa had bitten him, that their bond was sealed, and that all happened this morning. 

And Atsushi is very much still conscious, yammering on as if it had been such an inconsequential thing. 

“I thought for sure I'd never get picked if someone as cool as Chuuya had been there for five years!” Atsushi continues on. 

“Chuuya has no manners,” Akutagawa says, as if it explains anything. Chuuya narrows his eyes at the other man across the table, but opts not to say anything. 

“And neither do you, apparently!” Atsushi snaps. “Is that seriously how you're gonna talk about your brother's mate when he's right there?” 

The entire table falls silent; even Akutagawa seems to be at a loss for words, short circuiting as he stares at his newly bonded mate. Dazai almost misses the faint tinge of pink that creeps over his ears. 

“Our family dynamics are complicated, I'm afraid,” Akutagawa finally says, with far less of a bite than Dazai is expecting. 

“So did you guys fuck when you bonded?” Chuuya blurts out, as if he's trying to prove Akutagawa right. Maybe it's on purpose, maybe it isn't, but either way Dazai finds it highly entertaining. 

Especially because of the way Chuuya is posing a completely serious question with a straight face while the other two are already bright red. 

“Chuuya, you're embarrassing our guests, dear,” Dazai hums. The omega wrinkles his nose. 

“It's just a question,” he mumbles. 

“I just wouldn't call it fucking, you know? Bonding is a really special moment,” Atsushi sighs dreamily. He glances over at Akutagawa who's staring wordlessly at his plate. While that is part of bonding and expected by both parties, Dazai doesn't find it surprising that Akutagawa didn't manage to find some sort of excuse to get out of it. 

Unless—

Well. 

“I see,” Dazai grins. 

“What?” Akutagawa snaps. 

“It seems your omega has swept you off your feet already,” Dazai teases. 

“Hardly,” Akutagawa mutters, earning a sour look from his mate. Dazai would say that it looks like he got what he deserved, but that actually doesn't quite cover it. In all honesty, he somehow managed to find an omega that just might be perfect for him.

“I've always wanted a mate, I feel so lucky! Most of the others at the orphanage would be so surprised if they saw me now!” Atsushi beams at the idea. 

“Orphanage?” Chuuya questions. 

Dazai wonders if he's asking because he didn't know Atsushi had lived in one…or if he's asking because he doesn't know what one is. 

“Yeah, that’s where I grew up,” Atsushi supplies. “I applied to this program that the Golden House had for low-income omegas and got in! I never thought I’d be matched so quickly, and sight unseen at that!” 

“You must have good stats,” Chuuya says, and Dazai really isn’t sure what he means by that. 

“Maybe?” 

“Akutagawa is a sensitive alpha, he wanted an omega he could relate to. He also thinks he was once saved by a billionaire alpha,” Dazai says, which maybe isn’t fair to Atsushi, but whatever. He should know what he’s getting himself into, right? 

“What do you mean?” Atsushi asks. 

“Don’t spread your cynicism to my mate, Dazai.” 

“Cynicism? What? I’m just being honest. Honesty is super important in a relationship…right, Chuuya?” he says, not missing the way he jerks ever so slightly and almost drops his napkin. 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“See?” Dazai grins. 

While he is a hypocrite in that sense—There are plenty of things he’s keeping from Chuuya—he is still ruminating on the fact that Chuuya made just the tiniest slip up earlier. Maybe it’s nothing, maybe it’s a clue to something bigger…but Chuuya, despite Verlaine’s warnings, seems to be well-aware of certain aspects of his enhanced biology. 

Omegas are incredible, really, with how their bodies and instincts adapt and change to accommodate childbirth. But they aren’t that incredible. Not to the point of immediate conception, of their bodies being so distinctly fine-tuned so that their hormones are engineered to stop a heat at the exact moment of conception. Omega heats are supposed to last anywhere between a few days to even a week, but most often (aside from some rare medical cases) are manageable. As in they aren’t pheromone-bombing entire floors of luxury apartment buildings. They aren’t nesting to the point of not being able to function in public. 

According to Verlaine, Chuuya has been kept in the dark about everything. He’s been taking medications on command for who-knows how long, and has been convinced that his heats are normal and manageable and that he is normal. 

But that’s not the case, it seems. 

Because Chuuya knows something.

“I’m going to clean up the kitchen,” Chuuya says quickly, immediately starting to gather everyone’s plates from the table. The sudden tension in his body language and the sharpness to his scent is more of a giveaway than his words, actually. Not only does he know something, but he knows that he slipped up and that Dazai noticed.

“Sounds great. Atsushi, can I show you around?” Dazai asks, exchanging glances with Akutagawa. Regardless of how enamoured he may or may not be with his new mate’s pussy, he knows what the whole reason for this in the first place was—to attempt to get more information. 

“Um, sure?” 

“Go ahead,” Akutagawa sighs. 

“Alright!” Atsushi exclaims, standing up from the table and following Dazai down the hall to his office. The omega follows curiously—He’s clearly a bit younger than Chuuya, probably freshly twenty and closer to Akutagawa’s age than Dazai’s. But even his mannerisms feel less… jaded than Chuuya’s are. 

“Your home is so nice! I wonder what Akutagawa’s house is like, I can’t believe I’m seeing his brother’s house before his, haha,” Atsushi rambles, clearly a bit on the anxious side. It’s understandable. He’s had his entire life changed in the span of just a few hours. 

“Thank you,” Dazai says, closing the door behind him and locking it. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, of course, I just wanted to talk to you for a moment. About Chuuya,” Dazai says, honestly. Atsushi blinks, giving him a blank stare. 

“What about Chuuya? I’ll be honest, I didn’t really know him very well. I was only there for a few days before he left with you,” Atsushi explains. 

“You didn’t get a chance to talk to him at all?” Dazai asks. Atsushi shifts awkwardly, which was interesting. 

“Um, not really. I would see him at dinner but other than that…I didn’t see him. No one really did,” Atsushi says, which isn’t what Dazai is expecting to hear. (Not that he really knew what to expect anyway.)

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, his room was in a separate wing and we weren’t…we weren’t allowed to talk to him outside of meals.” 

“What?” Dazai mutters. “Why not?” 

Atsushi shrugs. “The others said it was because he was too good for the rest of us. Because his dowry was really high or something, but I don’t…I don’t know how much of that is true. I mean, was his dowry really eight-hundred million?” 

“It was,” Dazai confirms, watching Atsushi’s eyes grow wider and wider. 

“Whoa, that’s—And you paid for that ?!” 

Dazai scoffs and brushes him off with a wave of his hand. “This isn’t about me, don’t worry about that.” 

“Still, that seems crazy.” 

“I am crazy about Chuuya, I suppose.” 

“That’s so sweet, oh my gosh.” Atsushi gushes. Dazai chuckles and shrugs, accepting that as a compliment. 

“What can I say? Still, I am a little concerned that he was isolated like that—I imagine that must have been lonely for him,” Dazai says. 

As they speak, though, his mind continues to race with a whole slew of possibilities. Maybe the Golden House had some sort of deal with Verlaine—What would be the reason for Chuuya to be kept away from all of the other guests? The only reason he can possibly think of is that someone—whoever may be behind all of this—might have put in a certain amount of effort to keep Chuuya socialized in a very specific way. 

Five years of not being able to develop genuine friendships with anyone while being confined to a mating house sounds like torture. It makes him seem like less of a guest and more like…like a prisoner.  

Unless, of course, Chuuya was in on it. 

For a moment, his mind flashes to their conversation from right before Akutagawa had arrived…how Chuuya seemed to know a little more about his unique biology than he had originally let on. 

Nothing fucking adds up anymore. 

“I don’t know. Some of the others who knew him better said that…Ah, I don’t want to offend you,” Atsushi says, suddenly grimacing as he stops himself. Earlier he’d seemed confident and energetic, but now he looks almost fearful. 

“I’m sure you won’t,” Dazai assures him. 

Atsushi still shifts uncomfortably before taking a steadying breath. “They said that he’s really stuck-up. Apparently he went to some like, really fancy private school in France and thinks he’s better than everyone else. His family is crazy rich and strict about what he can and can’t do so—Yeah…But I don’t think any of it sounds like it’s his fault.” 

“Interesting,” Dazai murmurs. It does seem like the most likely cause of someone acting that way. If he was kept away from everyone else, of course people would have a bunch of assumptions about him. “The Golden House is pretty traditional, right?” 

Atsushi blinks, considering the question for a moment before he responds. “I guess it is…I think it’s mostly performative, though. I mean, is it problematic to agree to a bond with the highest bidder? Sure, whatever, you can have your opinions—”

“No need to get defensive,” Dazai chuckles warmly. “This isn’t an interrogation.” 

“I know, I know, but when I was at the orphanage, some of them really judged me for agreeing to the Golden House program—Called me a gold digger and all that and honestly? Who cares if I am? I’ve been through enough crap in my life that I think it would be nice to have an easier life financially, you know?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dazai nods, even though he really can’t relate. While he might not be proud of his upbringing, it wouldn’t be right to say he could empathize with someone who came from poverty. Not that he would judge anyone for it, but he certainly can’t relate to financial struggles. 

“I’m still hopeful, though. That maybe one day Akutagawa and I will be in love,” Atsushi says, a small, yet genuine smile spreading across his face. 

“I’ll be honest, I don’t have the best relationship with my brother…but sometimes I do think he might be softer than he lets on.” And even though it’s almost a compliment, Dazai is still pretty confident that that much is true. 

“Yeah?” Atsushi chuckles. “Are you and Chuuya in love?” 

He’s not expecting the way Atsushi’s innocent question makes his heart ache.  

“Chuuya is…He’s very old-fashioned. I don’t think he believes in love.” 

Atsushi cocks his head to the side, giving him a sad look. “And what about you?” 

He wants to lie to his face, to shrug it all off like he doesn’t give a fuck what happens either way. But that’s so far from the truth already, isn’t it? If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be putting in half as much effort to take care of Chuuya’s unique needs. 

For a moment, he thinks about the way Chuuya’s face just lights up when he laughs. The way his blue eyes sparkle and his lips tremble as he tries to hold it in.

“I love him very much,” Dazai admits. 

He’s never been in love before, but he can’t imagine it being any different from the way he feels right now. 

After they emerge from the office, Akutagawa mentions that they should probably leave, since Atsushi hasn’t been to his new home yet, and is probably tired. Atsushi interjects something about being perfectly capable of speaking for himself, and they both enter the elevator still arguing about it. The doors close and then Dazai and Chuuya are alone in the main foyer. 

The silence grows heavy pretty quickly.

 “I’m also tired and I should probably go to bed. I already did the dishes and everything, so—” 

“Chuuya,” Dazai says simply. The omega freezes and looks up at him, his eyes somehow both wide in fear and steeled in defiance at the same time. “We need to talk.” 

“About what?” he snaps defensively. 

“I think you know what,” Dazai says, and maybe he’s being purposely facetious, but he just wants to hear it from Chuuya’s mouth. How much he knows. Whether or not he’s been playing Dazai this entire time. 

“Obviously not,” Chuuya fires back. “How the hell am I supposed to know what you’re thinking?” 

Maybe he should be noticing the way that Chuuya starts to get so tense, the way his words seem to fire from his lips while his fists ball at his sides. 

“Likewise, I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking. Is this just a game to you?” Dazai scoffs. “I am putting my ass on the line for you and you’re just…what? A spy?” 

It’s not fair. He shouldn’t say that. 

And he realizes that as soon as he sees the hurt in Chuuya’s eyes. 

He has it wrong. 

“N-no, I’m not,” Chuuya says, his voice small as it starts to waver. 

“If that’s not the case, then why wouldn’t you just tell me? I’m not—I’m not going to go to Verlaine, I’m not going to do anything—” 

“I can’t!” 

The way Chuuya screams is enough to stop Dazai dead in his tracks. The sound had ripped from his chest like he had to force it out, and the intensity had been startling. Tears stream down his face as he starts to shake. 

“Chuuya, I—” He stops himself this time, watching in horror as Chuuya doubles over, clutching his head between his hands, his body convulsing just like he had that day when they were meeting with Ranpo. 

“Chuuya? Chuuya!” Panic surges through him as he drops down and tries his best to soothe him, putting his hand on his back, releasing as much of his pheromones as he can, but nothing seems to have any fucking effect. 

His own hands start to shake as he pulls out his phone and dials Yosano. 

Chapter Text

All at once, Dazai’s mind can only focus on one thing. 

Chuuya.

His heart races fast, nearly beating right out of his chest as he does everything he can to soothe his omega while he waits for Yosano to arrive. He scoops him up into his arms and rushes into his own bedroom. What the hell should he do? What the hell is he supposed to do?!

Everything happened so fast—One moment they’re arguing and the next, Chuuya is on the ground shaking, barely conscious. It’s just like what happened before when they were with Ranpo—When something got him riled up and he passed out. 

On the phone, Yosano had suggested Dazai scent him as much as possible. And he doesn't know how to do that efficiently, but he knows that his own bed is pretty saturated with his scent. He sets Chuuya down and pulls the comforter over both of them, still holding onto Chuuya as tightly as he can.

“I’m so sorry,” Dazai whispers, his fingers trembling as he brushes them through Chuuya’s hair. He isn’t shaking as badly now, but his skin is cold and damp. 

All he wanted to do was find out how Chuuya knew that detail about himself…and if there were other things he knew. He didn’t mean for this to happen. 

“I can’t!” 

Chuuya’s scream still echoes in his ears. It was so sudden, so bone-chilling that it had thrown Dazai off of his original intention completely. The words had erupted from him as if they’d been forcefully pushed out, like it physically pained him to do so. 

Dazai tightens his hold on his omega as he’s reminded of what this sort of reaction means. If he ever crosses paths with the alpha who did this to him… Fuck.  

He definitely wouldn’t be able to hold himself back. 

When Yosano finally arrives, she rushes into the bedroom with her kit. While Dazai really doesn’t want to let Chuuya go, he knows that he has to let the doctor see him in order to make a proper diagnosis. He doesn’t leave the bed, though. He sits up against the headrest next to Chuuya while Yosano approaches on the opposite side. 

“What happened, exactly?” Yosano asks him, quietly checking Chuuya’s vitals. 

“We were talking about…” he trails off for a moment, grimacing as he realizes that he’s still not entirely sure what he should and shouldn’t be telling her. For all he knows, he’s got it all wrong and the ADA—- No, that really doesn’t make sense anymore. 

Kouyou’s face flashes in his mind briefly, with all her concern and fear and—She cared about Chuuya, still does. There’s no way anyone could have faked that. 

“He thinks he’s pregnant,” Dazai says. 

Yosano raises an eyebrow. “Did he take a test?” 

“No, but he said that his heat ended immediately, which would mean that he’s…Fuck, this is crazy, right?” Dazai groans, holding his face in his hands for a moment. 

“Well, given his origins, it’s not that crazy,” Yosano says, with a lofty sigh. “It’s becoming more and more obvious to me that he had to have been a part of those experiments back then…But it doesn’t make sense, because based on what we do have of those records he’s…ah.” 

“He’s not supposed to exist,” Dazai mumbles quietly, filling in the blanks. Yosano shifts uncomfortably as she nods. “I had been under the impression that he didn’t know about any of that—”

“And he still might not,” Yosano intejects. “It seems like he thinks a lot of strange things are normal. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched to think that he might assume this to be a normal reproductive function as well.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” That definitely only makes him feel worse, though. Because that means Dazai most likely jumped to conclusions and interrogated him for no reason. If he hadn’t brought it up, then maybe Chuuya wouldn’t be unconscious now.

“He’s breathing normally, and his heart rate is a little high, but that’s to be expected…” Yosano says, trailing off. “This is the same as last time, isn’t it?” 

“Probably.” 

“There’s only one way to reverse a lingering command,” Yosano says, tentatively. Dazai tightens his jaw as realization slowly starts to seep in. 

“I’m not doing that,” Dazai insists. “He’s fucking had enough, hasn’t he?” 

Yosano doesn't flinch. 

“Whatever the triggers are for the current commands that are still in his head…They'll continue to set him off like this every time. There's no telling how many more episodes like this he might have. I know how you feel about commands, especially knowing his history, but…Think of it as one more command versus hundreds more.” 

When she phrases it that way, it makes sense, but it still makes Dazai sick. It makes him sick enough to think that he's already given him one command, because what the fuck was Dazai thinking?!

This whole thing is a disaster. 

“What do I have to do?” Dazai asks, lifeless. 

He startles slightly as Chuuya shifts, nuzzling against his thigh, still mostly unconscious but notably calmer. With a breathy sigh, he lets his hand brush against Chuuya's shoulder, rubbing soft, gentle circles as he grapples with this decision. 

“Simple—Command him to let go of all other commands,” Yosano explains. Dazai wants to laugh, but only because it's so fucked that an omega can be so easily controlled. 

No wonder this shit’s illegal. 

“I'll wait until he wakes up,” Dazai murmurs. 

“Of course… While I'm here, do you want me to run a blood test?” Yosano asks. 

Dazai swallows thickly. 

“No,” he says. “He didn't want one. If he decides he does later on, I'll bring him in.” 

Yosano stares at him for a moment. Blankly at first, but then her expression starts to soften. 

“What?” 

“You've changed, Dazai,” Yosano chuckles. 

“Well, I would hope I'm not the same person I was when I was a teenager,” Dazai scoffs. 

Really, if he thinks about it, it isn’t so much that he’s changed who he is as a person…but he’s changed the ways he’s coped with the horrors of everyday life so many times that he might appear unrecognizable. When Yosano first knew him...That was a very different time in Dazai’s life. 

He’d hit a point somewhere in his teens where his brain just…It was like it just couldn’t process any more violence or underhanded dealings and as an internal defense mechanism he just sort of shut down. Blocking himself from having any sort of emotional reaction to anything that was happening was the safest way he could still manage to function. To not completely lose his damn mind. 

Some of his visits with Yosano were due to him getting caught between the crossfires of a deal gone wrong. She’d extract bullets and sew him back up like it was normal, no questions asked. (Sometimes he wondered if she coped with it all in the same way.) The only time she ever commented on his injuries were when they were clearly self-inflicted. 

“It’s not worth it, you know,” Yosano said, wrapping a stream of white gauze tight around his forearm. She didn’t look up as she spoke, just kept her head down and focused on her work. 

“What isn’t?” he’d mumbled in response. 

“Suicide,” she said, bluntly. “Not that it’s any of my business or anything but, you know they’d just replace you. Find some other kid to fuck up.” 

And, well, he always was more inclined to care when someone else’s life was on the line.

“I didn’t mean that you’ve matured any,” she mutters. “Just that…Back then, you always seemed more like a ghost than a living, breathing human. I always assumed that one day you’d arrive in a body bag.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Dazai says, rolling his eyes. Mostly because it’s easier to deflect than venture down the path of openly admitting that she wasn’t unreasonable in her assumption. 

“Well could you blame me? You always managed to show up with near-misses every fucking time, it was insane,” she scoffs. 

“What can I say? The universe refuses to let me die,” he says with a shrug. He means to laugh it off, but then he glances down at the pretty omega, who’s now sleeping soundly in his lap, and it doesn’t really seem like a joke anymore. 

If he had died back then…What would have happened to Chuuya? 

As if on cue, Chuuya starts to stir slightly, his eyebrows furrowing together as his nose wrinkles up. He’s adorable like this, really. 

“Hey, Chuuya,” Dazai says softly, running his hand over his omega’s hair. “How are you feeling?” 

Chuuya groans before forcing one eye open. “What the fuck happened?” 

His voice is tired and drained from the episode, but he’s awake, and Dazai is so grateful. 

“Should I leave?” Yosano asks. Chuuya frowns at the sound of her voice, as if he’s just now noticing that she’s even in the room. 

“No, ah, stay. Just in case,” Dazai says quickly. He clears his throat as confusion flashes across Chuuya’s face. 

“What’s wrong?” Chuuya asks. 

“Nothing—Ah, I mean…” he trips over his words as he mentally prepares himself to hit his overworked mate with yet another command. It’s for the best…isn’t it? Fuck. 

Fuck.  

“Dazai?” 

Chuuya’s eyes are wider now, watching with clear concern and Dazai just can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t deserve any of this shit, and yet—Some assholes have been fucking with him for his entire life. Whatever the hell happened, whatever may be the right thing to do, Dazai does know that Chuuya doesn’t deserve to be at the mercy of the same assholes for the rest of his life. 

Dazai slides back down until he’s laying face-to-face with Chuuya, who’s still clearly struggling to catch up with what’s going on. Reaching forward, Dazai gently cups the side of Chuuya’s face.

“Chuuya.” The way his eyes immediately fix themselves on Dazai is almost enough to make him want to stop already. His fingers shake, but he pushes onward. “I want you to let go of every other command—You don’t have to listen to them anymore.” 

Dazai releases the command in an instant, dropping it like a hot plate. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Chuuya says, as if nothing had even happened. All he can probably see is the look of horror and grief on Dazai’s face. 

“Nothing, I just…You didn’t feel that?” Dazai asks him, pressing the back of his hand to Chuuya’s forehead as if that’s going to tell him anything. 

Chuuya sits up in bed. “Feel what? I guess my head hurts…what time is it? Why the hell is the doctor here?” 

“You were having a seizure-like episode due to a history of excessive command use,” Yosano supplies easily. 

“Huh? What the hell are you talking about? I’ve never been commanded,” Chuuya scoffs. He sounds so defensive that for a moment, Dazai worries he’s about to start shaking again, but the moment comes and goes without anything notable. 

“Makes sense, the perfect omega would be even more vulnerable to commands if they could never remember being commanded in the first place. This whole thing is both sick and fascinating.” 

“Wait, how the fuck do you know about that?” Chuuya asks quickly. 

“How do you ?” Dazai counters. 

Chuuya is struck silent almost immediately, like he isn’t sure how to answer that question either. He doesn’t want to push him too far, especially after the day he’s had. And there’s always the chance that Dazai’s command didn’t fully erase everything. Not to mention it’s hard to know exactly what triggered those long-term commands anyway. 

“I don’t…I don’t know,” Chuuya says, blinking. He inhales sharply and covers his mouth. 

“What? What is it?” 

“Nothing! No, I always—I’ve never told anyone about this, not even Verlaine! How did you—What the hell?” Chuuya groans, his voice wavering slightly. Dazai studies him cautiously, and some things start to make sense…

It’s possible that Chuuya had been commanded to not talk about anything he may have remembered. Though, that also begs more questions—Like, how did they manage so many gaps in his memory? Were those commands, too? If so, would his memories be restored? 

“What do you remember? About the lab?” Dazai asks. “It’s okay, you can tell me. I’m your alpha, remember?” 

“Um…” he trails off for a moment, staring down into his lap. “I honestly don’t remember much of anything. I’m—I’m sorry, this is fucking weird, why are you asking me about this? Like I said, I’ve never even—Verlaine never wanted me to talk about it. He…He was the one who rescued me.” 

“Rescued you?” Dazai repeats. 

There it is—A gaping hole in Verlaine’s story already.  

“I was the only family he had left after our parents were taken away and punished for their crimes—I still remember the day he showed up on my doorstep. Ever since then, I’ve dedicated my life to keeping him safe from harm.” 

“Yeah, he…I just have this picture in my head of like…I don’t know what was happening. I think I was hiding somewhere and Verlaine…he came to take me—Like, to rescue me,” Chuuya says, slowly meandering through his thoughts. He seems cautious at first, like he isn’t sure how much he can say without the subconscious fear of slipping up and being reprimanded in the form of a dormant command. 

“That’s it?” Dazai questions. 

“Yeah, I don’t know what the hell you want me to say,” Chuuya groans. “Look, I don’t remember a lot of shit from when I was a kid, you can’t get mad at me for not remembering.” 

“I’m not mad at you, Chuuya,” Dazai sighs. 

“Really? You sound mad.” 

“I’m not! Well, now I probably do—” 

“Chuuya, I don't mean to overstep, but Dazai wants to help you. And as he helps you, it might mean bringing up some uncomfortable and maybe even painful memories.” Yosano interrupts their banter before they can get too far off track, and Dazai returns to the solemn state he'd been in before. 

They still have so much to learn about Chuuya and even without the commands…

He’ll still be shocked by a lot of things. Maybe it's better for him to find out in a safe space, like Dazai's bed, rather than out in public or something where he might find out accidentally. 

“Yosano's an omega, you know,” Dazai says quickly. 

Chuuya gives him an odd look at first, before turning towards Yosano. He doesn't say anything, but Dazai notices the way his eyes lock onto the scent patch on her neck. 

“That's not funny,” Chuuya mutters, turning his gaze—now a glare—back towards Dazai. 

“It's true,” Yosano says. 

Dazai holds his breath as she removes the patch covering her scent. A beat passes and Chuuya freezes. 

Maybe this isn't a good idea after all, maybe—

“No, that's not—How? How can you be a doctor if you're an omega? Don't you have an alpha?” 

Yosano sighs loudly. Dazai knows enough to know that if it weren't for Chuuya's situation, she'd absolutely be losing her shit right now. To be fair, Chuuya has no idea how bigoted he sounds. 

“Listen, I don't know what they taught you at that fancy school of yours, but most omegas have jobs. You're the one—”

“Yosano, let's not make it personal,” Dazai groans. “Chuuya didn't know, it's not his fault.” 

“Is this true?” Chuuya gasps, turning back to Dazai. His eyes are wide, not with anger or confusion, but with fear. 

“It’s true.” 

“So what, you’re saying that—that omegas can just have jobs and go places alone? You’re telling me that people just…accept that?” He both sounds and looks distressed by the new information, which was about as much as Dazai expected. But it still doesn’t make up for the fact that it hurts to see him like this. Chuuya always seems so confident, even when he’s confidently wrong. 

“Omegas are people, too,” Yosano adds in a flat tone. 

“How do I know this isn’t just a set-up? That you’re orchestrating all of this to just mess with my head and make me think there’s something wrong with me!” Chuuya exclaims. 

“I promise you that’s not what’s happening,” Dazai insists. 

“Then why?” Chuuya asks, his voice cracking just a bit. 

But it’s enough to make Dazai realize that he’s crying.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no no—

“Hey, I don’t know who filled your head with all of these ideas about what omegas can and can’t do with their lives, but I promise you it was all bullshit. And yeah, that’s gotta be shocking to hear, but think of it this way—It’s a good thing. You’re your own person. You don’t have to be tied down to an alpha if you don’t want to be,” Yosano says, and she’s clearly a much better person to explain this anyway. “On the flip side, if you do want to be mated and pupped and play the role of the housewife, then you’re free to do that as well.” 

“She’s right,” Dazai says, swallowing as his throat starts to tighten. Chuuya turns quickly to face him again, his eyes still wide. 

“I’m not going to be a fucking doctor,” Chuuya says sharply. Dazai tries his best not to laugh, but it’s hard when his mate is so cute.  

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you get a job as a doctor.” 

“You say that as if becoming a doctor is easy,” Yosano mutters. Dazai mostly ignores her. 

“In fact, you don’t have to ever get a job if you don’t want to. Nothing in our situation has to change, Chuuya,” Dazai explains. 

“Okay, good,” Chuuya sighs, like he’s genuinely relieved. 

“I think this is probably enough for tonight, huh? If you’re feeling okay, we’ll send Yosano on her way and get ready for bed.” 

Chuuya looks between the two of them, still a little off and unsure about, well, probably everything. After a moment of deliberation, he nods. 

“I’m gonna take a shower.” 

“Okay,” Dazai says, gently squeezing his hand before he gets out of the bed. He looks back at Dazai a few times on his way out of the room, and then finally stops at the door. “What?” 

“Are you just going to stay here with another omega? All that preaching about omegas are people and then you’re just gonna take another mate without consulting me first? God—” 

“What? No!” Dazai exclaims, scrambling out of bed. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “She’s your doctor, Chuuya! And it’s also illegal to bond with multiple mates.” 

Chuuya scoffs at him, then stomps away, muttering about something that Dazai can’t quite make out. 

“I have to get going anyway,” Yosano groans. 

Dazai walks her to the elevator doors and thanks her for coming out so quickly with such short notice. 

“Well, it seems like we’ve pinpointed the problem so far…and if what you did is working, then it shouldn’t continue to be a problem,” she explains. “Oh, and before I go…what was the name of Chuuya’s finishing school?” 

“Why?” Dazai asks. 

“The agency has been looking into Chuuya’s case and we just can’t find much of anything about him. And yet, if he was at a place like The Golden House, I’m pretty sure some sort of finishing school or etiquette courses are required, right?” 

“It was some place in France…Meursault? I think.” 

—

A hot shower is a good distraction from all the nonsense that Dazai and the doctor had been spouting about omegas and jobs and commands and shit. 

He stands in front of the bathroom mirror, gently using his towel to squeeze the extra water from his hair. When he stares at his reflection, he really doesn’t notice anything different about himself. And yet…he does feel like something’s changed…like there had been something hiding deep inside his chest and now it’s just… gone. He can’t think of any other way to describe it. 

… a history of excessive command use…

Chuuya shudders as the doctor’s words pass through his mind. 

He knows what commands are. At least, he thinks he does. (But maybe someone will come along and tell him he doesn’t know shit about that either!) 

Alphas have this…this primal ability to influence an omega’s actions. It’s a skill that’s especially dangerous towards unmated omegas, who can be commanded by just about anyone. But when an omega mates with an alpha, that ability is passed to only that alpha. 

Then again, Chuuya is different. He’s not sure what sort of effects commands can have on him, and he’s also not certain he believes that he’s even been commanded. Yosano had mentioned it could be a part of the way he’s engineered, to not be able to consciously process the commands. 

His stomach churns at the thought. 

How many times? 

How many times had someone commanded him to do something and Chuuya just did it?! With absolutely no recollection of any of it. The thought alone is unexpectedly violating. 

Did Verlaine know about this? 

He knows that his brother liked to keep secrets, and he always said that he did so as a way to protect Chuuya, and Chuuya believed that. But suddenly, he’s starting to wonder how the hell keeping something like this from him could possibly be keeping him safe?! 

The bathroom feels too large all of a sudden, and Chuuya finds himself wishing he was back in Dazai’s bed, swaddled in his scent…

Without a second thought, Chuuya drops the towel to the ground and marches out of the bathroom and then out of the bedroom again. He can see the light is on in Dazai’s room even from down the hall, so he continues on and strides right into the alpha’s room, where he finds him sitting up in bed reading a book. 

Chuuya sighs and rests his hands on his hips. 

“Chuuya, um—” 

“Was all of that true, earlier?” Chuuya demands to know, resisting the urge to call Dazai out over the way his eyes keep flickering over his naked body. Whatever, it’s not like anyone else is here anyway, so he doesn’t see the big deal. 

“Was it…yeah, um, yeah it was all true. I wouldn’t lie to you,” Dazai tells him, and he does sound genuine, but it’s still so… confusing. 

“Then how do you know I’ve been commanded excessively or whatever the hell the doctor said? How would you know? Did Verlaine tell you that?” 

Dazai stares for a moment. “Um not exactly. It’s the way you react to some things. I asked you about how you knew you were pregnant, and you screamed and started shaking.” 

“How do you know that’s related?” Chuuya asks, ignoring the chill that runs down his spine. Because he doesn’t fucking remember doing any of that. 

“You want the truth?” 

“Obviously.” 

“That’s how my mom died.” 

Oh. 

Well fuck.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Chuuya says, averting his gaze. He’s not sure what to say. 

“I know,” Dazai sighs. He pauses for a moment and sets his book down on the nightstand. “Do you want to sit with me?” 

Chuuya watches as Dazai pats the space next to him, in his big cushy bed that smells like him. He doesn’t say anything, but nods and quickly slips in under the covers, half-sitting against the pillows. 

“She was an omega,” Dazai tells him. “If you ask anyone else, they’d say she died of a brain tumor or an aneurysm. But that’s not true, not really. My father—the fucking asshole—used commands on her all the time, despite the legality of it. He had enough money to cover it up. But I saw the signs, even as a kid. She…she wasn’t allowed to speak badly of my father. Any time someone would bring him up, she’d fly into this rage. And if it was bad enough she’d…well, she’d pass out and seize up and…It was horrible, Chuuya.” 

“I’m sorry,” Chuuya says again because what else should he say? What is the right thing to say here? 

“Don’t be,” Dazai sighs. 

Even though Dazai doesn't seem too upset about it right now, Chuuya's sure that it must have affected him a lot. Dazai seemed so concerned about Chuuya's reaction to these supposed commands, that he can only imagine how he must have felt when it was his own mother. 

“My parents were scientists,” Chuuya tells him. He's not sure why he decides to blurt that out now; it just comes right out without warning. 

“Oh?” 

“I mean, I think they were. I don't really remember them, I just remember people in lab coats taking care of me…” Chuuya trails off for a moment, his throat tightening as he realizes that wait, what if that's wrong, too? “I don't know their names or—”

“Hey, Chuuya, don't worry about it, okay?” Dazai tells him, as if he can sense the way Chuuya's heart starts to race. “Don't push yourself…If you happen to remember something and you want to share, then please do. But don't stress yourself by trying to force it.” 

“Okay…” 

“I'm serious,” Dazai insists. 

Chuuya rolls his eyes. 

“Did you mean that earlier? When you said that things don't have to change between us.”

Dazai stares at him for a moment before his face softens into a gentle smile. Then, he leans forward and gently presses his lips to Chuuya's forehead. For a moment, Chuuya swears he can't fucking breathe. 

“If that's what you want,” he says quietly. “Tell me what you want and I'll make it happen.” 

He stares back, completely dumbstruck. Dazai may be irritating and annoying and handsome but he's so caring and kind that it's almost more annoying than when he's being, well, annoying. 

And yet Chuuya can't find it in himself to be angry at him. He's frustrated and confused and exhausted, but… knowing that he at least has Dazai with him makes him feel just a little bit better. 

“Good. I don't want anything to change. I want to stay here as your mate and have this baby and at least five more and—”

“Hold on, did you say five—”

“I thought this was about what I wanted,” Chuuya scoffs. Maybe a tiny part of him is purposely being difficult just to gauge his reaction, but in all seriousness he wouldn't be opposed to having a large brood of kids running around. 

“Okay, fine,” Dazai lets out a long sigh. “We might have to look into some real estate in the suburbs with all those pups. This place is big but it isn't super kid-friendly.” 

“Yeah, don't want them falling out of those crazy high-up windows.” 

“That's…Actually nevermind, you're right,” Dazai says, like he's accepting defeat. “Anyway, you should go dry your hair.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, I don't want you getting water all over my pillows tonight,” Dazai says, with a sly little grin. 

“Why would—”

“Chuuya,” Dazai interjects, reaching over and placing a gentle hand against his bare waist. “If we're going to have as many pups as your heart desires, can't I ask for one thing?” 

Chuuya swallows and nods. He knows what Dazai is going to say and it's not even a big deal, but he feels his face burning hot anyway. 

“Sleep in my bed from now on?” Dazai asks. 

Chuuya immediately gets up and heads for the door. 

“Wait, where are you going?” Dazai asks, sitting up in bed, with the audacity to flash his big, brown puppy eyes at Chuuya. 

“To dry my fucking hair,” Chuuya fires back. “You know, so you don't throw a fit about water in the bed or whatever.” 

Chapter Text

Chuuya doesn't remember explicitly learning about sex and mating and all that. He doesn't remember a lot of things. But he does remember all the times that Verlaine warned him about sex. 

“That's something you'll only do with your future alpha, if they wish it.” 

“It's for the purpose of producing offspring, nothing else, you really don't need to be asking questions like that, Chuuya.” 

Based on the logic he was provided with growing up, now that he's going to have a baby, he shouldn't even want to have sex anymore. It was for the purpose of producing a child, and that purpose has been achieved. 

And yet, somehow, after sleeping comfortably in Dazai's bed throughout the night, he wakes up to a wetness between his thighs that definitely wasn't there when he went to sleep. 

He almost wonders if it's an odd, early symptom of pregnancy that he isn't aware of—A sensation that reminds him of any time he's ever been in heat. It isn't the only thing that reminds him of being in heat, either. 

All throughout the night, he's been swaddled in his alpha's scent—that warm scent of smoke and thunderstorms that makes Chuuya's head buzz. Dazai is at his back, his breath still slow and heavy from sleep, his arm wrapped protectively around Chuuya's waist…

…His erection pressed against the small of his back, hot and firm. 

Chuuya swallows thickly, rubbing his thighs together almost involuntarily. He's not sure if he feels more nervous or more relieved to know that the alpha also seems to be aroused. 

Dazai is his alpha. 

He knows they've already conceived, so there shouldn't be any point to it, but he can't help the fact that he likes the feeling of Dazai's warm cock pressing against him. Reminds him of how it felt when it was spreading him open during his heat.

“Dazai,” he whispers, just to see if he's already awake. There's no response, and the alpha's arm remains around him, holding him tight.

He squeezes his thighs together again, hoping to get some sort of relief, but it only makes him more aware of how little stimulation he's getting. If Dazai wasn't so intent on holding onto him like this, Chuuya could easily sneak back to his room, find one of his toys, and solve the problem on his own. 

Stuck with no other choice, Chuuya reaches down between his legs, gathering slick against his fingertips before dragging it back to his clit. The slide of his own fingers isn't perfect, but it feels good to touch himself. He closes his eyes, taking in a long, deep, breath of the sleeping alpha's scent. 

He moves his fingers just a bit quicker, finding the perfect rhythm to sate his needs—

And then as soon as he does, a firm hand closes around his wrist and brings him to an abrupt halt. 

Chuuya inhales sharply and his eyes snap open. 

“What are you doing?” Dazai's voice is low and raspy from sleep, his breath dancing against the back of Chuuya’s neck. 

“Masturbating.” 

Dazai pauses for a moment before he asks another question. “Why?” 

Chuuya stills, then twists around so that he can face his mate. Dazai's grip on him softens, easily allowing the shift in position. 

“I was wet,” Chuuya tells him. Dazai's tired eyes close as he lets out an odd sort of groan that Chuuya can't quite decipher. “I would have gone back to my room to do it, but you were holding me too tight. I couldn't.” 

“You could have woken me up,” Dazai says. The thought of disturbing the alpha's sleep over something like that doesn't make too much sense, though. 

But then Dazai adds: 

“So I could help you.” 

“Help me…” Chuuya repeats. 

Dazai rubs at his eyes for a moment before finally propping himself up on one elbow. 

“Unless you really don't want me to,” Dazai continues. 

“What would you do?” Chuuya challenges. An image flashes in his mind of the conversation they'd had after his last heat. Of how Dazai wanted their first time to be outside of heat. 

Dazai still seems hesitant, for reasons unknown to Chuuya. He’s the alpha here, isn’t he? If there’s really something he wants done about the situation, he can just do it, can’t he? So Chuuya doesn’t understand why he’s always so—

All at once, he’s hit with the reminder that yesterday had happened. That was real.

Well. 

Maybe in Dazai’s world, if omegas can be doctors, they can just take what they want, too. 

Without giving himself another chance to overthink it, Chuuya reaches for the back of Dazai’s neck and pulls him in closer, only stopping when their faces are only centimeters apart. Dazai stares back at him for a moment, surprise clearly written on his face. 

“What’s wrong?” Chuuya asks, furrowing his brow as he scans Dazai’s face for answers. 

“Nothing, you just caught me off guard,” Dazai says quietly. Slowly, one of his hands comes up to cover the hand that Chuuya has on Dazai’s neck, gently patting it, letting Chuuya know that it’s okay that it’s there. Chuuya lurches forward to connect their lips, only to be met with a pair of fingers instead. 

He frowns. “What the hell?” 

“Hold on.” 

“Why? I thought you wanted to do whatever I want to do,” Chuuya scoffs, echoing the words Dazai had said to him the night before. 

Before answering, Dazai grabs Chuuya’s hand and guides it down between them, pressing his palm firmly against the erection that strains against Dazai’s pajama pants. “Clearly, I do… But we don’t need to rush. This isn’t your heat.” 

“Ugh, shut up,” Chuuya groans, pulling away from Dazai’s crotch, but only so he can grab Dazai’s hand and shove it between his legs instead. 

Dazai gasps as his fingers brush against Chuuya’s wetness, hopefully getting an idea of how painfully slick and frustrated he is. It’s a double-edged sword, though, because as soon as he does that, he’s met with the sensation of Dazai’s warm hand against his folds and fuck he needs more.

“Dammit,” Chuuya mutters. “Just… fix it or…leave me alone so I can do it myself.” 

“If you want me to fix it, you need to be patient, ” Dazai says, cupping his hand against Chuuya’s mound and pressing into it. Chuuya hisses at the pressure, but doesn’t back down. 

“What’s the point in being patient?” 

“I’ll show you.” Dazai smirks, and Chuuya has the sudden, inexplicable urge to drive his knee upwards and into his balls.

But he doesn’t. 

He’ll play along. 

“Fine.” 

“You want me to touch you? Kiss you?” 

“Huh? What kind of question is that?” Chuuya scoffs. “Why are you being so weird?” 

“I have to make sure you’re really okay with this. Would you rather take care of it on your own? If you want to, then you can. I won’t be upset with you,” Dazai tells him, his voice almost sad. Chuuya rolls onto his back and groans loudly. “What?” 

“You’re being annoying. I don’t know why you can’t just be normal.” 

“Me? I am being normal. I think…” Dazai sighs. “What would be normal? In your opinion.” 

Chuuya glares sideways at the alpha next to him. 

“Just do whatever you want,” Chuuya snaps. 

“And what if it’s not something you want?” 

Chuuya wants to scream. “Then I’ll tell you to fucking stop? I don’t fucking know.” 

In his frustration, he sits up and throws the covers off of him, ready to just get out of bed and stomp away if all Dazai wants to do is debate whether or not Chuuya wants this. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be difficult, it’s just that you’ve been through a lot and…” 

“And what? I’m not some fragile little thing, but you always look at me like you think I’m gonna break.”  It all comes out surprisingly easy, like he’s been holding it in all along without even realizing it.

“I know, I know. ” Dazai sits up, too, rubbing his hands over his face, clearly exasperated by their conversation. 

“Then why?”  

“When you first got here, you basically told me that there’s nothing wrong with marital rape.” 

“Oh, so you just think I’m stupid. Got it.” Chuuya gets out of the bed and stomps towards the door of the bedroom. 

“Chuuya, no, that’s not what I meant—” 

“Maybe I haven’t been brought up the way you were, but I know what rape is, okay? I’m not an idiot. It’s only rape if I don’t want it!” Chuuya yells back at him. 

“Okay, see? That’s all I wanted to know,” Dazai says, getting out of the bed as well. 

Chuuya rolls his eyes and pulls the door open. 

It only opens a smidge before Dazai comes up behind him and slams it shut again. Chuuya startles, not expecting such an abrupt turn of events. He turns to face the alpha, and in the same motion Dazai’s hand comes up to gently cup the side of his face as he brings their lips together for a kiss. 

All the air leaves Chuuya’s lungs at once as Dazai’s lips slide against his own, fitting perfectly like it’s where they belong. The action is firm, but his lips are soft and gentle, lingering over Chuuya for a beat before they slowly part. Chuuya stays still, tentatively following his lead and parting his lips as well. The next thing he feels is Dazai’s tongue, hot and wet, sliding in and along Chuuya’s own tongue. He gasps against him, turning his head to the side for a more comfortable angle, just in time for Dazai to deepen the kiss. 

Chuuya inhales sharply, his nails unintentionally digging into Dazai’s forearms, his head swimming with Dazai’s pheromones, and all he can think is yes, and please, and more.

“Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are?”

“Yeah,” Chuuya says, breathlessly. 

Dazai smiles, his cheeks tight as his nose brushes against Chuuya’s. 

And then Dazai drops to his knees. 

“What are you doing?” Chuuya asks, looking down as Dazai kneels between Chuuya’s legs, gently nudging his thighs apart. Curious, he follows along, his thighs spread just a bit. Dazai brings himself eye-level with Chuuya’s sex before he glances up at him with big, brown eyes. 

Chuuya swallows, frozen in place as Dazai drags his tongue along Chuuya’s already-swollen clit. He shudders and hisses, his body involuntarily reacting to the sensation of a tongue against him, slowly licking until Dazai’s lips close around the sensitive tip instead. 

“Ahh, fucking— fuck,” Chuuya moans, his head hitting the door behind him as he leans back. Dazai tightens his grip on Chuuya’s thighs, his tongue venturing between his folds, lapping hungrily at the slick that seems to gush out of him. He swears he wasn’t even this wet during his heat.  

His hands fly to Dazai’s hair, holding him there as he replaces his tongue with a pair of fingers and goes back to sucking on Chuuya’s clit. Shallow breaths are all he can manage as Dazai works him open, ravishing his pussy with an onslaught of stimulation that he doesn’t think he’s ever even dreamed of. 

“Wait—Fuck! Fuck,” Chuuya cries out, his fingers tightening in Dazai’s hair as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. It catches him off guard and his mind goes blank for a second, his body shivering from the way Dazai continues to lap at his folds. 

“That was fast,” Dazai grins when he pulls back, his chin and upper lip covered in a light sheen from Chuuya’s slick. His face burns at the sight of it, in disbelief that Dazai even did what he did. Because holy fuck.  

“Thanks, I guess,” Chuuya mutters, still catching his breath. “I’ll go get a towel—” 

“What for? I’m not done,” Dazai says, his voice low as he stands. He presses himself close to Chuuya, his hands resting firmly at his hips. “You said you’d tell me if you wanted me to stop, right?” 

Chuuya’s head spins. “Yeah.” 

As soon as the word is out of his mouth, he’s being lifted into the air. He lets out a small yelp of surprise and wraps his arms and legs around Dazai, holding on as tight as he can as Dazai carries him back to bed. Just as quickly as he’d been scooped up, his back is hitting the soft mattress below. He scrambles to hoist himself up onto his elbows, eager to watch what Dazai’s doing. 

Maybe Chuuya doesn’t fully understand why Dazai acts the way he does. It doesn’t make sense that he can be so very clearly attracted to Chuuya and yet not want to act on it whenever he feels the urge. But even though he doesn’t quite get it, Chuuya thinks he’s starting to learn that Dazai, at the very least, means well. 

It feels wrong to trust someone he only just met a couple of weeks ago, but at the same time, it doesn’t. While they haven’t known each other for very long at all, Chuuya never really thought that time mattered when it came to how well he knew people. At the Golden House, he never really knew how much time he’d end up getting with the friends he made there. And although he also never built close, trusting relationships with anyone, he had friends that he’d known for two days that he felt the same amount of closeness with as friends that he’d known for two months. Time was all relative and subjective. At the end of the day, connection and compatibility mattered way more. 

Chuuya watches as Dazai removes his t-shirt, haphazardly discarding it somewhere on the floor. Next, he releases the tie on his pajama pants and quickly pushes those down as well, leaving himself just as naked as Chuuya is. His eyes lock onto the thick member that bounces in front of him, the tip purplish and straining against itself, hard and eager. 

“Still good?” Dazai asks, leaning against the edge of the bed as he strokes one hand over his swollen cock. Chuuya swallows and nods, ignoring the urge to make some sort of snarky comment. Instead, he’s too focused on the cock that’s getting closer and closer to him. 

Just a few minutes ago, he’d felt raw and overstimulated and ready for a break. But now that he has Dazai situated between his legs again, he can feel the slick building up already. He scoots closer to the edge and spreads his legs wider, suddenly very eager to feel that warmth inside of him again. 

Dazai leans over, caging Chuuya between his arms as he dips down to connect their lips in a soft, yet slightly uncoordinated kiss. Chuuya inhales sharply when he feels the head of Dazai’s cock prodding at his entrance, hot and practically throbbing. His arms reach up to drape around Dazai’s neck, focusing his attention on their lips. 

He barely manages to suppress a whimper when the tip presses further, easily slipping between his wet folds and pushing in. Dazai’s cock is thick, and at first the stretch is concerning, but Chuuya quickly adjusts, and the next thing he knows, he’s practically itching for more.  

“You’re so fucking tight,” Dazai murmurs, his lips drifting to his jaw, and then down to his neck and along his collarbone. Chuuya shivers and wraps his legs around Dazai’s waist, holding him tight as his hips start to make slow, shallow thrusts. 

“More,” Chuuya insists, the slow pace more frustrating than anything. 

“More?” Dazai chuckles, lifting himself up again so that they’re face to face. 

“Yes. More. Move faster,” Chuuya groans, rolling his hips in search of whatever it is he’s looking for. He’s not really sure what it is that he needs, but he knows Dazai has to be holding out on him. The alpha above him smirks. “Stop laughing at me!” 

“I’m not,” Dazai says, dipping down to press an ironically chaste kiss against his forehead. “I just find you adorable.” 

“Come on,” Chuuya groans. “You’re teasing me.” 

“Well…Maybe a little,” he hums. 

“Fuck you—” 

Chuuya quite literally chokes on his own words as Dazai pulls out and quickly thrusts back in, his hips snapping against the backs of Chuuya’s thighs. He can’t help the embarrassingly loud moan that escapes his throat, or the way his fingernails dig into Dazai’s shoulders. 

He doesn’t stop there, either. 

Heeding Chuuya’s demands, he works up to a blistering pace that Chuuya can hardly keep up with. His hard, thick cock pistons in and out, and the room soon fills with the sounds of wet skin slapping against skin, of their labored breathing and debauched moans. 

At some points, Chuuya ends up on his hands and knees while Dazai grips his hips from behind, somehow fucking him even deeper than he had been before. 

“I’m gonna—Can I knot?” Dazai grunts, his words nearly slurred. Chuuya groans. 

“You better.” 

Dazai practically growls in response, picking up his pace again. The base of his cock begins to swell soon after that, spreading Chuuya’s cunt almost painfully wide until he finally locks in, pumping him full of his warm, alpha semen. 

After Dazai finally takes a shower, he ventures out into the living room to find Chuuya sitting cross-legged on the couch. He has one elbow propped against the armrest as he stares down at the floor in front of him, like he’s deep in his own thoughts. 

“Everything okay?” Dazai asks. If he could have it his way, he’d have stayed in bed with Chuuya all day. It took a surprising amount of self-restraint to peel himself away after the second round. After getting over the initial mental hurdle of making sure Chuuya really was okay with everything…He’s realized that sex with Chuuya is far more incredible than he ever could have imagined. 

And no, he swears he’s not one of those alphas who obsess over any pussy they can get. He has standards! He can control himself. But holy shit, if Dazai didn’t already believe that Chuuya was genetically engineered to be a perfect omega, this would have been what convinced him. 

“Hmm? Yeah,” Chuuya says, looking up as Dazai walks around the edge of the couch to face him. “Just thinking.” 

“About what?” 

“About sex.” 

Oh. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“What? No, I just…I always thought sex was just…I don’t know, a means to an end?” Chuuya’s words ramble together, like he really is struggling to put his thoughts into words. 

“Sex is more than just reproducing,” Dazai says. “It can be for pleasure, too.” 

“Yeah?” Chuuya says, like he's looking for Dazai's permission. 

Dazai would give anything to get a look into what's actually going on inside Chuuya's head. Maybe if he could, he'd be able to shoulder some of that burden for him. Even without those long-term commands, he's constantly in some sort of internal battle between what he wants and what he thinks is realistic to ask for. 

“Definitely. Did you enjoy yourself this morning?” Dazai asks, sitting next to him on the couch. The omega turns to look at him, those glass-like blue eyes studying him curiously. 

“I did,” Chuuya confirms, a cute shade of pink dusting his cheeks. “Did you?” 

“ Definitely,” Dazai says with a grin. “We can do that whenever we want, too. Not just when you want to make a baby.” 

Chuuya blinks. “Now?”

Dazai laughs. “Ah, sorry, not now. I unfortunately have to head to the office for a bit.” 

“Aren't you the boss?” 

“Yeah, but I still have to show my face so the company knows I'm there. Otherwise they might give my job to Akutagawa.” 

He loves the way Chuuya wrinkles his nose in disgust at the mere suggestion. Seriously, how can one person be so alluring and adorable at the same time? 

“Well, can't have that,” Chuuya mutters. “Can we do it again later?” 

“Sure,” Dazai says, though at the back of his mind he wonders if he's accidentally created some sort of sex fiend. 

“Can I go to your office?” Chuuya asks. 

Dazai isn't expecting the question, mostly because Chuuya hasn't left the penthouse once since his doctor's appointment. While Dazai definitely worries about him being cooped up inside all of the time, he's also been cautious about pushing Chuuya into too many uncomfortable situations too soon. 

“You really want to?” Dazai asks. Chuuya pauses to think about it again before he nods. 

“Yeah, I want to,” Chuuya says. “I wanna see you bossing people around.” 

“What is it that you think I do, exactly?” Dazai grins as Chuuya shrugs. 

“You're just…in charge? I don't know. You tell people to do stuff and they do the stuff.” 

“And somehow, you aren't wrong.” 

“See? I know things.” 

Dazai laughs again, feeling lighter than he has in a while. “You know what? Sure, if you want to come to work with me, then why not?” 

He doesn't miss the way Chuuya brightens at the suggestion. In fact, it's so breathtaking that Dazai can't resist leaning in and stealing a quick kiss. 

Chuuya blinks, clearly not expecting the gesture. 

“What was that for?” 

“Because I wanted to,” Dazai tells him, honestly. “Kissing isn't just for sex, you know.” 

“Oh,” Chuuya says.

For a moment, Dazai worries that maybe that was somehow too much. That maybe they aren't quite there yet. 

But then Chuuya leans in again and softly presses his lips against Dazai's. It's such a simple thing, too. Just a soft, delicate pair of lips lingering tentatively against his own. They don't press or slot together, but Chuuya stays like that for several seconds before he pulls back. 

Dazai can't fucking breathe. 

“Was that okay?” Chuuya asks him. 

Dazai can't even swallow. 

“Dazai?” 

“Yeah, that was—That was great,” he finally manages to sputter out. It's silly to get so flustered over a kiss after having literally fucked him raw less than an hour ago. 

And yet here he is, his heart racing in his chest like a teenager falling in love with his first crush. 

In a lot of ways, Chuuya is his first crush. 

That sounds stupid, sure, but it's true. He's had meaningless relationships in the past, hookups that did nothing for him. No one has ever made his heart race or his palms sweat the way Chuuya does. 

Chuuya's like this bright, shining diamond in Dazai's life. He entered in completely on a whim and managed to change everything so fucking fast that Dazai really isn't even sure what to make of it. But he does know that he's in love, and that Chuuya is the only thing that really matters anymore. 

“Actually, I have another question,” Chuuya says, breaking Dazai's trance for just a moment. “If sex doesn't have to be just for having babies then…Can…Is there more to mating, too?” 

Dazai stares back at him. “What do you mean?”

Chuuya looks away for a second, his cheeks reddening again. He shrugs. “Like…Is it really possible to fall in love with someone?” 

Dazai's heart squeezes in his chest. The word love leaving Chuuya's lips is certainly a symphony to Dazai's ears, but there's an odd sort of sadness to his question. 

That's right. Chuuya doesn't believe in love. Not because he's cynical and jaded, but because that's what someone's instilled in him all his life. That he'd never mate for love, that love was some fantastical, made-up phenomenon that only happened in movies. 

Dazai swallows, his throat already painfully tight. 

“Yeah, it's definitely possible.” 

And Dazai knows. 

He knows because he falls in love with Chuuya every time he looks into those deep, ocean eyes of his. 

He falls in love every time Chuuya's eyebrows furrow together when he's deep in thought, or when he's annoyed by one of Dazai's stupid jokes. 

And now he knows he's going to fall in love every time he wakes up each morning with Chuuya by his side. 

Maybe one day he'll work up the courage to tell him so. 

Chapter Text

The first time Chuuya visited Dazai's office, he really hadn't paid much attention to his surroundings. He'd been in a bad mood already, and opted to keep his head down and stay close to his alpha. That, and the outside world was such an overwhelming concept—And it still is, but…

But now…things feel different. 

Dazai told him all that crap about commands or whatever, and it's not that Chuuya doesn't trust his alpha or anything like that. Maybe he's still getting used to his mate's eccentric ways, but he hasn't been given any reason to not trust him. 

That being said, he's curious. 

Maybe there are other things about this world that he’s gotten wrong and he hasn’t even noticed. Or, on the other hand, maybe Dazai is lying to him, and if Chuuya is super diligent about paying attention this time, he’ll notice something that’s out of place. He isn’t quite sure what it is that he’s looking for, but he’s fairly confident that he’ll know when he sees it. 

Probably. 

The building Dazai works in is just as spectacular as it was the last time Chuuya visited. A tall, sparkling tower that sprouts out high above other buildings in the city. A skyscraper, he knows that’s what it’s called, and yet it still feels a little surreal everytime he looks at it. Other people around him walk in and out of the building like it’s no big deal; like it’s normal to be existing in the same space as this gargantuan piece of metal that touches the sky. 

“Are you alright?” Dazai asks him once they’re alone in the elevator. 

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I be?” Chuuya scoffs at the question, even though he’s pretty sure Dazai is observant enough to notice the way he’s been silently in his own head the entire way here. 

“Just checking,” Dazai hums. “I can have Higuchi take you home any time if you decide you’re uncomfortable.” 

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” Chuuya fires back, just for the sake of argument. Obviously Dazai has pretty good reason to worry about Chuuya’s comfort level. 

“Oh, nevermind,” Dazai sighs. He doesn’t sound angry or annoyed, but Chuuya still feels a little bad for snapping. 

But now that he’s got this bug in his head about his own memories, he wonders if he really feels bad about it or if he was just commanded to think that way. Dazai really doesn’t seem like any alpha he’s been told about in the past. 

Based on the things he’s been told, Chuuya has always believed, whether he liked it or not, that his alpha would one day have complete control over him. He was made for an alpha, to bend to every beck and call, to submit. At the same time, it’s also true that the very idea of bending over backwards for someone else made his skin crawl. 

It doesn’t make a lot of sense, Chuuya thinks. 

If he really, truly believed that about alphas, then submitting should feel natural, shouldn’t it? He shouldn’t feel any urge to lash out or talk back and yet…  

His head fucking hurts from trying to figure it out. 

The elevator finally arrives at Dazai’s floor, and as soon as the doors slide open, he’s met with the sounds of an argument. More specifically, an argument between two strangely familiar voices. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one bringing his mate to work today,” Dazai says with a self-satisfied grin. Chuuya studies his mate curiously as he follows him out of the elevator and around the corner to where the noise seems to be coming from. 

And sure enough, they find Atsushi and Akutagawa, both hunched in front of the computer screen at the reception desk, and clearly fighting over something on the screen. 

“Funny, I thought you knew how to read.”  

“I do know how to read! I don’t know how to make a stupid spreadsheet, that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to read! You’re being so unreasonable!” Atsushi groans and tries to shrug him off. 

“They didn’t teach you how to use a computer at the orphanage?” 

“Of course they did! I had good grades at the orphanage, believe it or not!” 

“You’re always talking about that damn orphanage—”

“ You’re the one who brought it up!” 

“Good morning!” Dazai interrupts them shamelessly, plastering on a bright smile like he’s amused by their bickering. “Trouble in paradise?” 

“Shut up,” Akutagawa grits. Though he does stand back slightly and straighten himself out. “Atsushi wanted a job, and so I was gracious enough to provide one for him—” 

“You fired the girl who was here before! Isn’t that illegal? That’s nepotism, isn’t it?” Atsushi exclaims, seeming far more concerned about how he acquired a job, and much less about the fact that he’s able to even have a job in the first place. 

“Okay, okay, let’s bring it down a little,” Dazai insists, encouraging both of them to lower their voices. “I don’t know what’s got you all riled up this morning, but I’m sure the entire floor can hear you. Also, Akutagawa I can’t believe you fired what’s-her-name, you’re so heartless!” 

“You—!” Akutagawa tenses immediately, his hands curling into fists at his sides. 

“He’s right, that was heartless!” Atsushi exclaims. 

“Fine, quit on your first day and find your own job. Perhaps Chuuya would like to take over in your stead, since we now have an opening.” 

Chuuya’s nostrils flare and he shakes his head quickly. He turns to Dazai. “I’m not getting a fucking job, I already told you that.” 

“I know, I know,” Dazai says, snaking an arm around Chuuya’s shoulders. “My darling Chuuya is far too precious to be dirtying his hands with work. ” 

“Don’t say it like that,” Chuuya scoffs. 

“What?” Dazai smirks, before ruffling Chuuya’s hair. He swats the alpha’s hand away and quickly moves to smooth out his hair to how he had it before. 

“I do not have time for this,” Akutagawa groans, before turning to Dazai. “And neither do you. We have that meeting with the head of production, and we cannot be late.” 

“Right…Ah, man,” Dazai groans. Chuuya isn’t really sure what Dazai does all day, but it sounds important. ”Chuuya, unfortunately I can’t take you with me to this meeting—would you like to wait in my office?” 

“You could wait here with me if you want,” Atsushi interjects before Chuuya can even answer. He smiles brightly, like he's genuinely offering a suggestion rather than trying to step on his alpha's toes. 

Dazai's office sounds safer. He could stay behind closed doors and not have to talk to anyone. But the whole point of coming along is that he wants to learn more. 

“Yeah, I'll stay with Atsushi,” Chuuya says. 

“Really?” The other omega acts as if he fully expected Chuuya to refuse. 

“Well…Alright then,” Dazai says, his eyes lingering on Chuuya for an uncomfortable amount of time. Not uncomfortable because he doesn't like the alpha's eyes on him. But uncomfortable because there's something in his eyes that tells him Dazai knows exactly what Chuuya is up to. 

Chuuya smiles. 

Dazai narrows his eyes. 

“We’ll be down the hall in the conference room if you need anything,” Dazai finally says, and plants a kiss on Chuuya’s temple. Before pulling away, Dazai whispers one last thing, just for Chuuya to hear. “Behave yourself, Chuuya.”

Chuuya rolls his eyes and shrugs him off. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

“Dazai, come on,” Akutagawa insists. 

Finally, the two alphas are gone, making their way down the hall. 

“Sorry about that,” Atsushi sighs once they’re out of earshot. He lets out a long sigh and rests his elbows against the desk he sits at. “I know I shouldn’t yell at him, but I think I’m just more overwhelmed by all of this than I thought I was.” 

“What do you mean?” Chuuya asks, because he’s actually genuinely curious. Is he, too, overwhelmed by the wildly different rules of this society as compared to the one he’d been expecting? 

“Uhh, I don’t know,” Atsushi takes another moment to ponder the question before he answers more coherently. “I think it kind of hit me last night that everything has changed so fast and now I’m kinda stuck with this person, you know?” 

“Is this not what you wanted?” 

“No, it is. I knew there would be risk involved with an arranged marriage, but it’s still…it’s weird. I like Akutagawa, but he’s so stuck up that it’s a little hard to get through to him.” 

“I mean, you just mated with him yesterday, right?” Chuuya says, trying not to sound like he’s judging their situation at all. Of course, in his head, they can’t possibly be as good of a match as him and Dazai. (And he’s also not sure why that suddenly matters to him.) 

“I did…Thanks, Chuuya, that actually makes me feel a little better.” 

“Wha—I didn’t do anything,” he grumbles. 

“But you’re right! It’s only been a day, and he might be overwhelmed with the changes, too. I gotta give him time to settle in and not panic so much,” Atsushi explains. Chuuya wants to point out that he didn’t say any of that, but decides not to bother. 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“And besides, even if it’s a little rocky right now, at least the sex is already amazing.”

Chuuya can feel his entire face heating up red at the mention of sex. He doesn’t want the mental image of Akutagawa as a sexual being in any way, but he is intrigued. 

“Oh?” Chuuya crosses his arms over his chest. 

Atsushi grins and suddenly gets up so that he can drag another chair over next to his, then excitedly pats the cushion in an invitation for Chuuya to sit. He hesitates at first, but then finally sighs and sits closer to the other omega. The rest of the reception area is completely empty, and they have enough of a view of the floor that they’d be able to tell if someone was coming and whether or not they should pause their conversation. But whatever, he humors Atsushi anyway. 

“Okay, so I didn’t want to talk about it over dinner because that would have been so inappropriate,” Atsushi begins. “But holy crap it was amazing! He was so awkward it was actually really cute. And then when we got home last night, we had sex like three more times and then again this morning.” 

“Oh, wow,” Chuuya says, blinking. “And you’re not in heat?” 

“No? Obviously not,” Atsushi laughs. 

Well, that at least confirms one thing on Chuuya’s list. That Dazai was right about sex being something to enjoy, and not just for the purpose of reproduction. Though he really had already confirmed that when he and Dazai had sex outside of his heat and he thoroughly enjoyed that. 

“So, what’s Dazai like in bed?” 

Chuuya frowns. “You can’t have him.” 

“Ah! No, I didn’t mean it like that!” Atsushi says, suddenly fumbling for words at the very idea of trying to steal Chuuya’s alpha out from under his nose. “Honestly! I’m happy with what I’ve got; growing pains are to be expected, you know?” 

Chuuya holds his frown as he studies Atsushi. He shouldn't make any snap judgments about the way he interacts with his alpha; Chuuya and Dazai certainly don't get along swimmingly all the damn time. It seems that these growing pains might just be normal. 

“Okay, I believe you.” 

“Oh good! I don't want to offend you, especially because we're basically family now.” 

“What do you—” 

“Well, I mean, our mates are brothers. That makes you my brother-in-law, doesn't it?” Atsushi says it in such earnest that it kind of freaks him out, but he tries not to let it show. 

“Er, I guess…They're not really brothers, though. Right?” Chuuya scoffs. “Dazai said that Akutagawa isn't related to him by blood.” 

“You don't have to be related by blood to be family! I've never had a family of my own, so it's really nice to have one—I don't care if they're related by blood or not.” 

Chuuya blinks. 

“I know that.” 

“Then why did you say they aren't really brothers?” 

He blinks again. 

“I don't…I don’t know,” Chuuya admits, getting this weird, creeping feeling of deja vu. 

“You're not even my real brother!” 

“Get away from me!” 

“Are you okay?” Atsushi asks. 

Chuuya inhales sharply as he sits up, rubbing at his face as he tries to refocus himself. What the fuck was that? 

“Fine,” he mutters, though he's anything but. Nothing is physically wrong, but his head suddenly feels like it's on backwards, and that flashback memory is already drifting away, slipping through his fingers faster as he tries harder and harder to hold onto it. 

“Anyway, Akutagawa was telling me all this drama about how he thinks he should be CEO of the company, but Dazai got the role because he's blood, or whatever and it's so wild. It's like being on a reality TV show.” 

Chuuya tilts his head to the side. “What's that?” 

“What's what?” 

“Reality TV. What you just said,” he scoffs. 

For a moment, Atsushi just stares, and Chuuya wants to scream. It's that same fucking look that Dazai gives him when Chuuya says something—The one that makes him feel like an alien with five heads. 

“You don't know what—Sure you do! You know those shows that film people in their daily lives and there's always lots of drama?” Atsushi explains, but Chuuya really has no clue what he's talking about. 

“No? I don't watch TV.” Chuuya says this, but it's only partially true. When Dazai isn't home, he does sometimes peruse the channels on his fancy television just out of curiosity. Most of what he's come across is nothing but nonsense or people playing sports. He did, however, come across a program about cooking, and he liked that one. 

“Oh man,” Atsushi says. “What did you do at the Golden House for five years if you weren't watching TV?” 

“The fuck are you talking about?” 

“Huh?” 

“There weren't any TVs in the Golden House,” Chuuya reminds him. Maybe after only being there for a week he never noticed. 

“What? That's not true—Didn't you have a TV in your room?” Atsushi looks confused and Chuuya hates it. What the hell is he even talking about?

“No? Did you?” It's a stupid question. Of course he didn't have a fucking TV. They didn't allow television at the Golden House. 

“Um, yes?” 

Chuuya gapes at him, horrified. 

“That's not possible.”

“But it is…Look, I don’t know what went on behind the scenes there, but you clearly had a different experience.” 

Chuuya swallows as a lump grows in his throat. Is that true? Did everyone else have just a completely different set up than he did? 

“How the hell did I go five years without noticing that other people had fucking TVs when I didn't? Do you think I'm stupid?” 

“Ah! No, of course not,” Atsushi scrambles. “But I don’t think it's your fault—I don't know if you knew this, but we weren't allowed to even talk to you outside of the dining hall or the courtyard.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Chuuya demands to know. None of what he's saying makes any fucking sense. 

The Golden House was like a safe haven, in a way. Everything there was familiar, the only things that ever changed were the guests he shared meals with. Other than that he had the same room, the same routine, the same everything for five years. 

And Atsushi is here, telling him it was a lie. 

What else was a fucking lie?!

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you,” Atsushi tells him. “We don't have to talk about that if you don't want to…Oh! I can show you one of those shows.” 

Chuuya can feel his chest tightening, but he's able to squash that feeling down for the time being. Maybe watching whatever it is that Atsushi wants to show him will be a good distraction. 

Silent, he watches as Atsushi grabs a remote and turns on a television that hangs on the wall of the reception area. He scrolls through a bunch of channels with practiced ease before selecting one. 

“Okay, so this show is about these omega wives that all married into wealth and they're all super mean to each other,” Atsushi says, rattling off a vague yet perplexing summary of the show. Chuuya stares at the screen as the show cuts to an interview with a woman who's dressed to the nines and wearing a diamond-studded collar. 

“What is she wearing? Isn't a collar for unmated omegas?” Chuuya asks. 

“Well, yeah, but with these guys it's also a way to show off and flaunt their wealth. It's a little ridiculous but…I also kind of want one. Is that lame?” Atsushi lets out a long and wistful sigh. 

“No,” Chuuya says, his fingers absentmindedly grazing his healed bondmark. “Do they have jobs?” 

“God no,” Atsushi laughs. “But their alphas are all super rich and provide for them. That's why I said our lives are kind of like that now—Haha, not that I'd ever want to act like that but…Our mates are very, very wealthy.” 

Chuuya nods, his eyes still glued to the screen.

Atsushi yammers on about who each person is and whether or not he likes them. It's all so fascinating to see the way they interact with each other and the way they always seem to be out in the world, doing things without their mates. Is this really… Reality? 

According to Atsushi, some parts of the show are very obviously scripted, but the overall premise is very much real. He makes a mental note of the show so that he could watch it when he's home sometime. It seems like it would be very informative. 

They're on the second episode of the show when the elevator opens again, and Atsushi jumps to make it seem like he was actually doing something work-related at the reception desk while Chuuya stays seated, paying the new arrivals no mind. 

“Hi, good afternoon!” Atsushi says cheerfully. 

“Afternoon,” a man replies. 

The voice is vaguely familiar, but Chuuya can't quite place it. He looks up at the man—an alpha—with long dark hair. 

“Who's that?” Chuuya asks Atsushi. Which is stupid, because Atsushi just got here. 

“Arthur Rimbaud, I'm a board member. We've met, remember?” the man replies. He's quiet and solemn, but doesn’t appear threatening. Still, there's something off about him. 

And for some reason, reminding Chuuya that they met at Dazai's board meeting doesn't really satisfy the suspicion that he knows this man from somewhere. He doesn't remember feeling this way the last time he was here. 

But then again…

“Where did we meet?” Chuuya asks. 

The man pauses. “Dazai brought you along to the board meeting last week.” 

“No, it was before that, wasn't it?” Chuuya asks, trying his best to appear aloof so that he could play it off if he's getting something wrong. The man gives him an odd sort of look that Chuuya can't quite read. 

“I think you must have mistaken me for someone else,” He says apologetically. “Where is your alpha, by the way?” 

Chuuya swallows and the pit in his stomach starts to grow. 

“In a meeting,” Atsushi replies. 

“And he left you out here unattended?” Rimbaud questions. Which is a strange thing to say, because apparently omegas are free to do lots of things unattended if the housewives on TV are doing all sorts of things. 

“Excuse me, sir, I don't mean to be rude, but we're both adults capable of looking after ourselves,” Atsushi says assertively. 

“Is that so?” 

All of a sudden it just hits him out of nowhere. A memory previously warped, with a face he couldn't make out. 

“Tell me, Chuuya, what is your role again?” 

“I told him I'd stay here. He won't be long,” Chuuya says, playing along even though he'd much rather tell this guy to shove it.

“Interesting.” 

Right on time, Chuuya can hear the conference room doors swinging open, and even catches that trace of Dazai's scent as he makes his way over. 

“I'm finally done! Sorry that took so long—Oh, Mr. Rimbaud,” Dazai says, sounding like he wasn't expecting to see him today. “What brings you in?” 

“I have a matter to discuss with you privately,” he says. 

“Okay, fine, but make it quick, I'm ready for lunch,” Dazai sighs. “Are you okay, Chuuya?” 

“Mhmm,” Chuuya nods. His brain spins over and over in his head as he tries to make sense of the situation he's in. Who was that man from that memory? More importantly, why the fuck would he be here, working with Dazai's company? 

Is Dazai in on this whole thing? 

No, that wouldn't make any sense. 

Still, something isn't right and Chuuya can't place exactly what it is but he knows there's something there and he just wants to scream—

There's a thought. 

Chuuya quickly wraps himself around one of Dazai’s arms and nuzzles his face into his shoulder. “Can I come with you? Please? I don't want to be alone.” 

“Oh, of course—Mr. Rimbaud, do you mind?” Dazai asks with a light chuckle. It's a friendly, charismatic tone, but Chuuya knows that underneath that, Dazai is already onto him. 

His alpha may be weird and annoying, but at least he's observant. 

“This is company business, nothing he needs to concern himself with.” 

“If I'm being honest, my mate is kind of…well, he's a little bit stupid, so he probably won't understand what we're talking about anyway.” 

Chuuya pinches Dazai's side, but doesn't make a sound. 

“Next time, perhaps he should stay home?” 

“Perhaps,” Dazai repeats. 

“Very well then, shall we?” 

“We shall.” 

Chuuya swallows and stays close to Dazai as the three of them walk to his office. His heart hammers in his chest, and he wonders if Dazai can hear it, too. Wonders what he's thinking about.

Dazai's office is huge. It's clean and modern-looking, to the point where it doesn't really look like it's been used much. Windows line one wall floor to ceiling, and Chuuya makes a mental note to go nowhere near them. 

He's not exactly sure how high up they had to go, but he knows that damn elevator ride took forever. 

“So, what's up, Mr. Rimbaud?” Dazai asks, sitting down and propping his feet up on his desk. He seems so comfortable sitting there, and yet somehow it doesn't quite suit him. 

“I came to warn you about some rumors that have been swirling about.”

“Rumors? What kind of rumors?” Dazai asks. He turns to Chuuya and grins, then pats the tops of his thighs. As soon as he realizes that he wants him to sit in his lap, Chuuya scowls and quickly shakes his head. 

“I'm not quite sure how much is true…But another board member mentioned the possibility that…An illicit drug is being produced in one of our facilities.” 

Chuuya stares at the floor, trying his best to pretend like he has no clue what the other man is talking about. Because, well, he doesn't— But this is the first he's hearing that Dazai might be involved in something sketchy. 

His mind flashes to that night that first night he threw out his pills, after Dazai had described each and every one of them to him…

“There's no way,” Dazai says, unfazed. “Some of our board members are investors that are…unfamiliar with how the pharmaceutical company works. I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding.” 

“Well, either way, I thought it would be important to give you a heads up. You never know when someone will be bold enough to mention it at a meeting,” Rimbaud explains. 

“I appreciate it,” Dazai says, flashing a smile that Chuuya can tell is fake. “Was there anything else?” 

“No...No, that was it. If you're confident that it's nothing to worry about, then I trust your judgment,” he says with a sigh. “How is the mated life working out for you?”

Chuuya stiffens. 

“It's wonderful, thanks for asking. Chuuya is remarkable,” Dazai explains. Chuuya can feel his cheeks heating up at the compliment. 

“Well isn't that nice?” Rimbaud smiles and Chuuya's stomach churns. “He does seem perfect for this role.” 

Why would he choose that wording for—Unless—

“What role?” Dazai asks. 

But Chuuya's heart is racing and everything feels bad and so he does the only thing he can think of at the moment to get this man the hell away from them. 

He drops to his knees, grabs his head and screams. 

Dazai reacts just as Chuuya expects him to. While Chuuya is on the ground, Dazai barks at the other man to get out and give him some space. And the next thing he knows, Dazai is on the floor with him, crouched behind his desk. 

“Chuuya? Fuck, what's—” 

“Is he gone?” Chuuya whispers. Dazai's eyes widen, and Chuuya makes a mental note to brag later about how he totally had him fooled.

“Yes,” Dazai whispers. “What the hell was that? Are you—?” 

“I'm fine,” Chuuya hisses back. “But that man, I've seen him before.” 

“Yeah, you met him last time—”

“No, I mean before.” 

Dazai stares back at him, and Chuuya would give anything to know exactly what he's thinking. His expression doesn't change but the fact that he's silent tells Chuuya that the wheels are turning. It's almost frightening. 

“You mean… Before the Golden House?” 

Chuuya nods slowly, his throat dry. 

He doesn't like the way Dazai's eyes seem to darken. 

Chapter Text

The last time Dazai entered mafia territory wasn’t as long ago as he would like it to be. Preferably, his time spent with the organization would always be a distant, haunting memory. But in reality, it’s not something he has the luxury of escaping so easily. 

After his mother’s passing, it was like he went numb all over. Nothing mattered anymore, justice didn't exist. What was the purpose in trying to make his life worth anything in a world where his father could get away with killing his mother without an ounce of guilt? 

At first, he immersed himself in everything to do with the mafia. If morality and justice were concepts that just didn’t exist, then what the hell was the point of resisting? But after a while, none of that was enough either. He was still empty, still unfulfilled. 

So he turned to drugs and alcohol. 

That worked for a while…until it didn’t. If only due to the fact that it became boring. 

That's why it stung when his old man left him saddled with the job of CEO. By all logic, there was no way in hell anyone should have trusted him with a role like this. There's no realm of possibility where this job wasn't given to him as a direct attack. A sincere hope that he'd crash and burn and make a fool of himself. 

Now Dazai stares ahead at the row of dilapidated shipping containers as a chill runs down his spine. The scene strikes him with the sudden realization that he was an entirely different person the last time he dared to set foot on mafia soil. After everything that went down, Akutagawa and his underlings had handled most of their father's business, giving Dazai an out. In a way, it was probably the kindest thing Akutagawa’s ever done for him. And he's grateful for it. 

Still, he'll never admit that out loud. 

He moves forward silently into one of the older buildings, following a hauntingly familiar path to the portion of the building where he knows he'll find the mafia's leader. As he walks, he passes a few low-level guards, all of which immediately avert their eyes and stay out of his way. It’s an odd feeling, one that used to give him a sense of purpose and power…but now? Well, he doesn’t know what to call… this.  

Not quite shame. 

Not quite guilt. 

Something in between, maybe. 

When he arrives at the door he’s looking for, he’s met with two more guards, both of which are clearly armed to the nines. 

“Boss is busy right now,” one of them says, while the other grips his gun just a little tighter. Dazai resists the urge to laugh. 

“Too busy to see an old friend? Doubt it,” Dazai says, reaching for the door handle anyway. Immediately, they both attempt to block his path, readying their weapons as if they might actually consider using them on him. “Well, that’s no good.” 

“He said the boss is busy,” he insists. But Dazai can sense the tension in his voice, the way he doesn’t seem fully confident in his post. Dazai isn’t proud of his past as a mafioso, but he also isn’t above using it to his advantage in a situation like this. 

Because yes, he did technically promise Akutagawa that he’d meet with the mafia lead, but that’s not what’s currently motivating right now. What’s motivating is the fact that someone— Rimbaud— knows way too much about this supposed black market medication. Not only that, but he has some sort of connection with Chuuya. 

He can be reasonable when it comes to the company, calm when it comes to dealing with traitors. But the very thought of anyone roping Chuuya into all this is enough to send him on a killing spree.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to go that far, because one of the guards receives a message through a radio comm that’s clipped to his vest. The voice is grainy, but Dazai recognizes it instantly. 

“If that’s Dazai out there, I sure hope you’re sending him my way.” 

Dazai grins and watches with satisfaction as the guards immediately jump to the side and allow him to pass. 

“Sorry about that—” They scramble to apologize, but Dazai just waves them on and continues through the double doors. 

There's a funny thing about the mafia. 

Dazai can't stand the organization, hates the dealings his father made and the seedy mess he created. And yet he can’t bring himself to hate the leader of the organization. After all, if it wasn't for him, he never would have been able to leave. 

“Long time no see, Odasaku ,” Dazai greets the mafia boss. 

Oda Sakunosuke. 

He's not what anyone would expect a superior mafioso to be. His demeanor is too gentle, Dazai thinks. Not only that, but he happens to know that his takeover of the organization was a part of his plan to never have to take another life with his own hands. 

It never made sense to Dazai, but he also knows that the organization is better off now, in the hands of someone with a semi-functioning moral compass. Better off now that both Dazai's father and Mori Ougai are no longer in the picture.

The funny thing about crime and gangs and whatnot is that it doesn't matter who's involved—They're bound to form one way or another. Oda is simply accepting the inevitable and manages it from the inside out instead of fighting against it. 

Clever, really. 

“I'm surprised to see you,” Oda says, leaning back in his chair as Dazai takes a seat. 

“Really? I thought Akutagawa said—” 

“I mean I'm surprised you actually showed up,” Oda clarifies. He quirks an eyebrow as he studies Dazai, because he knows how he feels about this place. Knows that he'd never set foot in here if he didn't have a good reason to. 

“Well, things have changed,” Dazai says. “Haven't you heard? I'm a taken man now!” 

“You know, I think I did hear that. But I chalked it up to bullshit,” he chuckles. 

“Nope, it's true,” Dazai says with a long sigh. “I never expected it either, but…I do know now that I'd do just about anything to keep my mate safe.” 

Oda narrows his eyes. “I don't follow.” 

“Oh, cut the crap, I know about the meds you guys are manufacturing under my nose. The heat triggers. This is dangerous shit, Odasaku.”

“You're talking about Tainted, aren't you?” Oda says, like he's familiar with it, but not in the way that Dazai had thought. 

“Is that what you're calling it?” Dazai asks. 

“Not me; we've been looking for leads on it. Had a couple of moles that we pinned down for running the stuff, but they wouldn't talk…nor did they survive their interrogations.” 

“What a shame…So, wait, what are you saying? Is this not one of the mafia's operations? Don't lie to me, Oda,” Dazai grits. Deep down, he knows that the other man wouldn't lie to him, not without good reason anyway. 

“Let me guess, you assumed it was and marched down here to tell me to stop, right?” He smirks as Dazai responds with a noncommittal shrug. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I also have not been able to pin down its origins. I was actually thinking of paying you a visit, seeing as it's being manufactured in one of your facilities.” 

“Shit, this isn't good,” Dazai murmurs, shaking his head. “Do you know anything about a lab that was busted oh…fifteen to twenty years ago? They were conducting illegal research on omegas.” 

Oda gives him a curious look before he answers. “Are you talking about the abandoned lab under Suribachi City?” 

Dazai blinks. “Suribachi City?” 

“You know, the slums in the giant crater.”

“I know what it is, I just…I didn't realize it was so close,” Dazai explains. “What do you know about it?” 

“Why do you want to know?” 

“Because it may be related to Tainted or whatever you called it.” 

“And, in turn, it's somehow related to protecting your mate?” 

Dazai grins. “I forgot how smart you are, Odasaku.” 

“Well I haven't forgotten how smart you are, so I know that's not true.” 

“Okay, sure, it's related to my mate. But if you don't mind, I'd prefer to leave him out of it as much as possible. And since you're so smart, I'm sure you can put two and two together eventually, right?” 

“Sure,” Oda smiles. “So, what do you want to know about Suribachi Research Facility?” 

“What were they doing there?” 

“That's a hefty question, to be honest,” Oda sighs. “But, the gist of it is that they deserved what they had coming to them. They were conducting experiments on live subjects, kidnapping omegas from the slums and keeping them in inhumane conditions. I'm not sure if my toughest mafia guys could stomach seeing what went on in that place.” 

Dazai's fists clench and his blood boils at the implications. What the fuck did those assholes do to Chuuya?! 

“Easy with the pheromones, what the hell?” Oda suddenly says, grimacing and waving his hands through the air. But then he stops and gives Dazai a saddened look as he silently figures it out. “Oh, fuck. Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” Dazai grits. “Does the name Paul Verlaine ring any bells?” 

“Sounds vaguely familiar, but otherwise, no.” 

“Shit,” Dazai mutters under his breath. “What was their goal in Suribachi? Why do all that—Why sacrifice human lives?” 

He shudders as he remembers the numbers in the file that Yosano had shared with him. That there had been others in the lab with Chuuya, others that likely didn't make it out alive. 

Chuuya wasn't supposed to make it out alive…

“Everyone thinks it's the mafia that runs the underground, that we're the cause of all the crime in the city. But that's not entirely true. While we are certainly a band of murderers and criminals, we also regulate what goes on down here. Squash the real bad shit before it gets out to the public.” 

Dazai nods along, because he knows. He knows better than most. 

“So Suribachi City was some of that real bad shit, huh?” 

“The worst. Rumor had it that they had plans to genetically engineer omegas to be these perfectly submissive, breedable, fuck toys that they could sell on the black market. The idea was that these omegas could produce offspring at a higher rate, and that they'd only give birth to either strong, dominant alphas, or equally submissive omegas—Nothing in between.” 

“I'll fucking kill whoever—” 

“Dazai, watch it,” Oda warns, once again alerting him to the sudden offensive spike in his own pheromones. Shit. 

None of it is surprising, but at the same time, Dazai wants to vomit. How the fuck is he supposed to stay calm when he's being told that his mate is bioengineered to be a breeding machine for greedy bastards—

“Fuck,” Dazai suddenly stands, a horrifying realization hitting him out of nowhere. Rimbaud, the meds, Chuuya—

“What's wrong?” 

“He's pregnant,” Dazai says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I have to go. I have to check on him.” 

“Hey, hey, calm down—You know you're no good when you're like this. Get a hold of yourself,” Oda warns, standing with him. 

“I don't—I don't know who's behind it all but it's connected somehow. It has to be. And my mate—He's in danger.” 

Oda stares at him, and Dazai hates that he isn't jumping in to assure him otherwise. Because Dazai is right and Oda knows it. 

“We'll be in touch…I'll also be looking into this Verlaine guy,” Oda says. 

“Let me know what you find?” 

“Will do—Hey, say hi to Sakaguchi for me!” He laughs. 

“No way, he hates me enough already!” Dazai chuckles, then gets right back to business. “I have to go now. I'll be in touch.” 

And with that, he's off.

He flies home so fast that his body is on autopilot the whole time and he barely registers his route. By the time he's out of the elevator, he's also out of breath. 

But it's worth it when Chuuya's scent hits his nose as soon as he enters the penthouse. He's here. He's safe. 

“Chuuya,” Dazai says, finding the omega curled up on the couch watching some sort of cooking show. He looks up at him when he enters, probably confused by his distress and general state. 

“What's wrong?” 

“Nothing, I'm just happy to see you,” Dazai says, plopping himself down on the other end of the couch. He wants to wrap the omega up in his arms and kiss him all over—But he resists. He behaves. 

“Uh, okay,” Chuuya mutters. 

“Is this what you've been up to all day?” Dazai asks. 

“What? No? I've done other things,” Chuuya says. He quickly sits up and looks around the house. “Does the kitchen look dirty to you?” 

“No? Then again, it never does. Your standards for cleanliness are much higher than mine.” 

He scoots closer to Chuuya, the sense of relief that he’s here, he’s okay, finally sinking in. Now all he wants to do is hold him close and squeeze him tight and never let him go ever again. If what Oda said was true, then Dazai doesn’t even want to think about what could happen if someone from that lab got their hands on Chuuya again. 

“Well…Good,” Chuuya says, with an odd sense of finality. “Hey, I have a question.”

“Ask away.” 

He stays in the same position, curled up on his side beneath a fluffy blanket, but his nose scrunches up as he contemplates what he wants to ask. Dazai loves when Chuuya asks questions, because it feels like he's finally starting to open up and trust—

“Why haven't you given me any jewelry yet?” 

Oh. 

Dazai blinks, baffled by the question. “Do you want jewelry? You don't wear any so I didn't think you had any interest.” 

“Well, I do,” Chuuya asserts. 

“Anything specific?” Dazai asks. Maybe this isn't the innocent, soul-bearing question he was hoping for, but it's still something. It's still Chuuya feeling comfortable enough to ask for what he wants and that is everything to Dazai. 

“Um…” He trails off for a moment, and Dazai wonders if he'll have to pull up some ideas for him to look through. “The leather collar with gold trim and oval-cut diamonds down the center from Cartier .” 

Dazai pauses, and grimaces at the thought of just how much something like that would even cost—And then he's hit with an even more puzzling thought: How the hell does Chuuya know about Cartier? 

It's a French brand, sure, but Chuuya also had never been to a restaurant. He'd be shocked if someone at his school had introduced him to high-end French designer jewelry and failed to mention the high-end French cuisine they were surrounded by. 

“Where'd you get that idea from?” Dazai asks. 

“Nowhere, I've just always wanted that collar. But it's probably too expensive anyway,” Chuuya scoffs, in a tone that's almost challenging. As if, for whatever reason, he's trying to appeal to Dazai's pride in his own wealth. Pretty funny, because he has no pride in that—But he'll play along.

“What? Doubt it. How much is it?” Dazai inquires. 

“Forty-five million,” Chuuya says with a lamenting sigh. 

“Only forty-five? That's nothing, I just dropped eight hundred million on something pretty for myself.” He revels in the way Chuuya's face turns bright red at the mention of his dowry. 

“Then, can I have it? Please?” 

“Chuuya saying please? Oh my heart can't take it!” Dazai teases, clutching his chest and looking away. “Of course, I'd do anything for you, dear. My only condition is that you have to tell me where you got this idea.” 

“I just thought of it,” Chuuya says defensively. 

Dazai looks up at the television for a moment, and then back over to Chuuya, who still has the remote gripped tightly in his hand.

Interesting.

Dazai smirks. “Chuuya…have you been watching TV all day?” 

“No!” He exclaims, sitting up from the cozy cocoon he’d been in before. The blanket he’d been shrouded in drops to his lap, showing that he’s still wearing one of Dazai’s t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. Typically, Chuuya sleeps naked, but will lounge around in comfortable clothes. When he’s doing housework or being productive, he tends to change and make himself look a little more put-together. (Dazai never understood the point in getting dressed up to do the dishes, but it doesn’t seem like anything worth arguing about.) 

“Oh, Chuuya,” he chuckles. “It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not! I thought you’d be home later, I meant to have dinner started before you even got home,” Chuuya groans and pulls his blanket back over himself, curling up. 

“I’m only teasing!” Dazai insists, making the bold decision to sidle up to him. He slips in behind his cocooned form and wraps his arms around him so they can snuggle close. “I like seeing that you’re enjoying yourself…and that you’re comfortable here.” 

“Why are you so weird?” Chuuya huffs. But he doesn’t shrug Dazai away or show any resistance. In fact, Dazai swears he presses himself closer. Dazai hums happily to himself as he buries his nose into Chuuya’s hair. He smells like a warm mix of pheromones and Chuuya. He’s not sure how he ever got through his days before meeting Chuuya without his sweet scent. 

“Is this really what you’ve been watching all day? Seems kind of boring,” Dazai sighs. He definitely notices the way Chuuya tenses up at the question, which is interesting. And very intriguing. 

“Yeah,” Chuuya gulps. 

The program in question isn't even one of those exciting cooking shows; just one where they're cooking on a daytime talk show while also trying to sell you expensive pots and pans. He wouldn't put it past Chuuya to take an interest in something oddly mundane, but the fact that he's getting defensive is a little strange. 

“Can I see the remote? I need to turn the volume up,” Dazai asks. Oblivious to Dazai's game, Chuuya hands him the device. Is it cruel to take advantage of Chuuya's naivety in this situation? Maybe. But he also really wants to know what Chuuya's been watching. 

As soon as he takes the remote, he presses the recall button and the screen immediately switches to a group of women with wine glasses lounging by a pool. 

“You should have seen the way she was flirting with my alpha, that fucking skank!” 

“Oh—” 

“Wait a minute! What the hell?” Chuuya scoffs, quickly twisting to wrestle the remote back from Dazai. His cheeks are brightly flushed, his eyes wide with genuine surprise. 

Dazai holds the remote up and away, out of reach, then plants a kiss right in the middle of his forehead. “Chuuya, no need to be embarrassed. If this is what you want to watch, then so be it.” 

“I'm not embarrassed!” Chuuya argues. 

Dazai isn’t super familiar with reality TV, but he instantly recognizes the program as one that's centered around a group of omega trophy wives who spend big and constantly have lots of drama going on. 

“Let me guess? These gals love Cartier? ” 

“No! Well…one of them does. But then Kiko said that Cartier is overpriced and basic, but Mina said she only thinks that because she's poor.” 

Dazai closes his eyes and laughs. 

“It's not funny!”

“It's so funny,” Dazai snickers. 

“Is not!” 

“You're so cute,” Dazai says, this time following instincts instead of his head and leaning in to connect their lips. He can feel Chuuya freeze, and then slowly soften against him. 

“I don't want it anymore if you're just gonna make fun of me,” Chuuya says once Dazai pulls back. He smiles and drags his fingers gently along the shell of Chuuya's ear. 

“I won't,” Dazai says. “I was just surprised. I'll buy you anything you want.” 

Chuuya blinks. “Anything?” 

“Is there something else, then?” 

“There's this hat…from Gucci,” Chuuya says sheepishly. 

“You want a Gucci hat?” Dazai asks. 

“Yes?” 

“Anything for you,” Dazai says warmly. “Even if it's ugly and ridiculous.” 

“It's not ugly!” Chuuya scoffs. “You know what? Maybe you should just take me shopping. I gotta see these things in person to figure out what the big deal is anyway.” 

“You want to go shopping?” Dazai asks. Maybe a few weeks ago, Dazai would have been all over the idea of taking Chuuya out on the town and spoiling him rotten. But ever since that incident with Rimbaud over a week ago, and even more so now that he has more information from Oda, he's a little uneasy about the idea of Chuuya just being out in public. 

Anyone could see him. Recognize him. Take him. 

The thought makes Dazai's stomach churn. 

“It seems fun,” Chuuya says, his eyes wide. “I've never been shopping before.” 

And how the hell is he supposed to say no to a face like that?

“Well, then, we're going to change that. Let me pull some strings and we can go,” Dazai says, stealing another kiss from his mate. 

“Really?” Chuuya asks, his voice suddenly lighter and full of hope. It’s painstakingly adorable how something as simple as a promised shopping trip is enough to change his whole demeanor. 

“Of course,” Dazai hums. “Still, I don’t really get the appeal of a show like this.” 

“I don’t know, I kinda think it makes real life seem a little better,” Chuuya says with a shrug as he turns back to stare at the television. “Those women are always fighting and doing shady shit, it’s probably so exhausting to live like that.” 

“Yeah, I imagine it is. That being said, you know this isn’t real, right?” 

“That’s what Atsushi said.” 

“Atsushi?” 

“Yeah, he said that parts of it are scripted to stir the pot and make things more dramatic than they already are,” Chuuya explains. “But I feel like I'd hate having cameras in my house anyway. Even if stuff is scripted, it’s still stressful…” 

“I think I’d have to agree.” 

“That being said, none of these omegas have jobs, and I think it’s nice that some people still have their priorities straight,” Chuuya sighs. 

“Yes, because the Real Housewives of Yokohama have their priorities straight.” 

“Well, some of them.” 

“I’m gonna have to give Akutagawa a piece of my mind for letting Atsushi rot your brain like this,” Dazai teases. 

“Shut up,” Chuuya groans. “I think you should thank him.” 

Dazai laughs, and it’s not really because of what Chuuya says. Really, it’s because he never imagined he’d be huddled on the couch with Chuuya like this, joking around about reality television. Even if Chuuya is still a mystery in so many ways, Dazai feels like he’s getting closer and closer to him every day. 

Most of the time, it doesn’t even feel real. Their mating happened so fast and everything changed overnight (literally.) And yet, here he is, so deeply and hopelessly in love with someone he’s barely known for a month. 

He lets out a deep sigh as he settles back down on the couch, pulling Chuuya down with him so that he can hold him again. The omega falls against him so easily, letting himself tuck into Dazai’s embrace. He’s warm from being huddled under the blankets for so long. As he holds him from behind, his mind wanders for a little bit before he lets his hands drift down to his stomach. 

That’s real, too, isn’t it? 

Dazai’s been putting off thinking about it for a while now because—Well, it’s unbelievable, for starters. Whether Dazai wants to acknowledge it or not, Chuuya is pregnant. Maybe they haven’t confirmed with a blood test yet, but Chuuya is so sure of it. Not only that, but Dazai swears he can sense another scent note growing beneath the one he already knows so well. 

In the past, maybe he could have seen himself taking a mate one day, but never…he never saw himself being a father.

At least not a good one. 

But for Chuuya, he wants to try. 

Chapter Text

Looking back, there has never been a point in Chuuya's life where the word shopping was anywhere near his radar. Whatever clothes he owned were just… there. He didn’t venture into a big city to go shopping. 

And now, when he tries to think about whether or not he actually bought any of those clothing items, he can't remember. Like most things he recalls, there's still something missing. Almost as if there's something deeper hidden somewhere in the recesses of his mind. 

Regardless of that, Chuuya is fascinated by the concept of brick-and-mortar establishments that one can just go to in order to purchase frivolous, yet beautiful things that he really doesn't even need. The women on the show he's been watching love to do this, and they make it seem like some sort of marvelous cultural experience that Chuuya's been missing out on.