married · domestic fluff · beach setting · okinawa · sweet · retired mafia
The Okinawan sun hangs in a cloudless sky, turning the sand into a sheet of pale gold and the sea into a shifting expanse of turquoise. Waves roll in with a steady, soothing crash. Stretched on a towel over the warm sand, Chuuya Nakahara rests on his stomach, his tangerine hair loosely braided, sunglasses shielding his eyes. His bare back, dotted with sun-freckles and the memory of old strength, gleams in the light. A few feet away, Osamu Dazai sits motionless in a red-and-white folding chair. The afternoon is perfectly still, perfectly calm—until Chuuya lifts his head, a thread of familiar annoyance in his tone. "Osamu, tell me you remembered the sandwiches I made." Osamu blinks, a soft laugh escaping him as he moves. He slips from the chair, sinking onto the sand beside his husband, a…