chocsra

[chocsra]

WOW VERY COOL THEME

HI YOU ARE ACTUALLY COOLER!

[chocsra]

wsp ppookster how do I con Vince my grandma to buy me a gecko for christmas cause I tried hipnosis but it didn't workkk 😞

-🔹🐑 anon

first emojified anon?? i may be like 4 months late to this but uhhhh instead of hypnosis compose a google slides of how geckos are beneficial and that u already prepared a home for it!!

[chocsra]

AVA?!?!?!??! hi omg i'm loving the new theme srry i've been dead for like FOREVER MY LIFE SUCKS

TSUU IT MAY BE LIKE 3 MONTHS SINCE I HAVENT REPLIED TO THIS BUT PLEASE DONT DIE UR SUPER COOL !!!

[chocsra]

THANK YOU for writing stuff that is 99% of the time sfw and not smut. I was never really comfortable with smut to begin with so thanks for letting me feel safe (??) scrolling through your acvcount blogs

all the best for whatever <3 your writing is super cool i look up to you a lot

im super flattered that you look up to me omg !! ☹️ im so glad you're comfortable w scrolling through my account and my posts aww 🫶🫶

[chocsra]

suguru geto 100% listens to adele. fight me.

[chocsra]

✧ STORMBRINGER CHUUYA AS YOUR GUY BSF IS .... (pt 2 -> pt 1!)

✧ w/c: 770 ✧ content: drabbles & headcanons of cute things with best friend!stormbringer! chuuya

☆ watching as you do your makeup, his upper lip hinged into an annoyed frown. "did you know, if you hurried up we could get your damn ice cream much quicker?" the teenager rolls his eyes as he stands beside you, extending his wrist to examine the time on his analog wristwatch—expense swimming in his choice of attire. you ignore him as you draw a fine streak of eyeliner into a mirror, chuuya purses his lips in boredom. "its just ice cream." he repeats, before ruffling his russet hair, not paying attention to how your gripping the instrument much tighter. "its just ice cre—" before the boy could finish his sentence, he was soon cut off to eyeliner being thrown straight at his face.

☆ enabling his nosy side, any activity he was doing being completely dismissed as soon as new gossip inhabits the area.

"[y/n], i think i saw your ex-boyfriend today." he whispers, fiddling with his gloves in thought. you, studying in a library, immediately stopped your pencil and paid your undivided attention to the redhead. "what do you mean you saw my ex?" you question, sassily glaring at him as he elegantly sips on some coffee. "y'know, the one that wasn't ready for a relationship." chuuya says, "that was something else, we never dated." you scoff in disbelief, returning to your schoolwork. the redhead cocks a brow in annoyance, "yea yea, whatever. point is, i saw that jackass with another girl, to hell he wasn't ready for a relationship." another girl? you immediately drop your pencil again and drop your jaw, "what?" the boy nods sassily, pulling out his phone to show you a picture of indeed a romantic date of your ex-talking stage and another girl in a makeup store. "holy shit, i think i know her." you clasp a hand over your mouth, cheek smushed against his shoulder to get a closer look. "but why were you in a makeup store alone?"

...

an overcoming silence took over the two of you, "shut up." he quips before turning off his phone and motioning you to continue studying.

☆ watching movies with completely different reactions. sometimes, you'd go to the movie theatre together, watch in the middle of the night on a video call, or in the comfort of one of your homes. he'd curl his upper lip into a leer at some shoujo anime as you would giggle and kick your feet. "oh my god, he's practically harrassing her, he should be arrested." chuuya complains, looking extremely distressed at the current predicament of the show, looking over to you for approval of this treatment. you could only fawn and giggle, "usui takumi!"

☆ chuuya enjoys action movies, but sometimes complains when they're not accurate or over-exaggerated. he fanboys whenever gravity is mentioned and genuinely closes his eyes in a deep sadness whenever a dog's story is told. you have never seen him more upset than when you watched "a dog's way home" together.

☆ being so envious of chuuya's damn eyelashes. they're long and luscious with a natural lift that almost looks like they were curled. his lashes often contrasted with his stormy eye colour and freckle-stained cheeks. you'd find home in the storm by holding eyelash curler, pinching at his lashes as the boy huffs and groans. "it hurts— dammnit!" the redhead pouts, pushing your fingers away, messing up the calcuations of your hand as his eyelid gets pinched. "chuuya!" you (both) scream.

☆ there's something else about doing his makeup against his will, though. the subtle look in his eyes, the kind of look that brews up something in the pit of your stomach. he peers through his lashes and the handle of your brush, the two of you making silent eye contact in your room before quickly turning away.

☆ chuuya getting pissed off whenever you snap a unflattering photo of him. so in return, he shoves his phone in your face at the randomest time to catch a photo even the port mafia wouldn't be able to get out of you. instead, he stares at the picture each time, and even if you're struggling to get the boy to delete it, he just screams: "why can't i take a bad photo?!"

☆ sometimes wondering where you lay on friendship. why do you feel so drawn to chuuya, and why does he feel so close to you? his mind tells him you're his dearest friend, but his heart aches for something more. since the redhead believes a heart is what he lacks, he'll never accept the risk of loving someone, loving you.

✧ chocsra™

[chocsra]

they match each other’s freak

[chocsra]

why do i feel like tumblr has become such a hateful place lately. like i feel people are literally saying the most outrageous shit on anon or taking things so seriously. like when one creator was getting death and rape, mind you this creator was a minor, because she "copied" someone else's smau? when in fact she was requested that prompt. i want everyone to know that someone else's blog is not a place where you can just say whatever the fuck you want and think you can get away with it. those are real people and you have no idea what someone is going through. your words might push them over the edge, you don't know. my point is this is a silly app, where creators can share their work and people can enjoy them. it's never that serious. and if it is for you, i suggest that you take a break and detox.

this is just me ranting, but please have some human fucking decency.

[chocsra]

someone bring me to my tumblr prime

[chocsra]

the only time boyfriend!megumi will ever lie to you is when you're so comfortable in his bed, falling asleep and you ask in that sleepy voice of yours that he loves, whether he's comfy.

and his arm is dead, and his back hurts, and your hair is all in his face and your stuffed animal is under his ass and its plastic nose is digging into his tailbone, and he's pretty sure its a million degrees under all these blankets.

but you look up at him so sleepy and content, and he swears he can see hearts in your pupils.

so he grumbles, kisses your forehead, and says "yes."

[chocsra]

Yuta's glow up will always amaze me even in my 80s

What did bro do in Africa 😭

[chocsra]

idk abt others but yes i do eat up every single one of ur hs au bc it's so silly and yes i am looking at you with a chuuya plushie in my hand to ask for a dazai x reader hs au fanfic

✧ "YOU ARE THE CITY OF MY HEART"

☆ synopsis ↺: skipping class with your classmate, dazai yet again. but this time, you explore the ocean of your feelings together.

☆ content ↺: HIGHSCHOOL AU 15ZAI, musical prodigy! dazai, photographer! dazai, introvert! dazai, slightly ooc, fluff

☆ NOW PLAYING ↺: UNDERSTAND — keshi

☆ w/c ↺: 2k

you don't think you have ever lived without noise,

ever since you were a kid, you were talked your ear off by your parents, lectured by several adults, and screamed plentifully with friends. when there was silence, there was music to mask it. good or bad noise, it existed, survived, and was a huge part of your life.

but you,

Dazai Osamu, are probably the quietest person you've ever known.

the only sound you could associate with him was the shutter of a camera taking a picture—the same sound you've been continually hearing.

It was a regular school day, both dressed in full uniform, baking under the bright rays of the morning sun. There wasn't anything particularly wrong about this day. you could pick off the reddening leaves from bark-ridden tree branches and soak in the imprint of tree stumps, looking ever so similar to that of a fingerprint. it was a pretty autumn day; you just so happened to get to see that. you think, taking a withering leaf into the palm of your hand.

shutter.

"osamu, stop taking photos of me." —you chide, gently swatting the pointed camera out of view. the brunette in front of you, currently crouching, laughs boyishly as he removes his face pressed against the camera, gaze now overseeing the autumn sight before him. "sorry," dazai whispers, tinkering with a few buttons to review the photos he took. "you don't have to skip class with me, y'know." he murmurs, eyes glued to his camera.

he was a photographer, a pretty one at that. quiet and mysterious, you were rather surprised to learn that a boy reads fine literature and other classical means. sometimes, he picked up a violin or combined delicate fingers to gracefully waltz with a grand piano. his most prized possession was a camera, freezing the most beautiful of the intricacies of nature and people. but who was he? the boy who read books instead of taking notes in lectures, wavy chocolate brown hair that sun rays adored to find a home in, and a tall and slim build fitted in a school uniform and bandages. to capture the slope of his cheek, the deep hazel in hollow irises, and his olive skin. he was Dazai Osamu, a walking mystery.

so, you'd like to know where you stood with him in terms of relationship and if he even likes you at all. skipping class together, sneaking in your window at night, pretending to hang out with friends if it meant seeing him—it didn’t feel like something close friends did, like he was a secret you wanted to keep for yourself. but you couldn’t tell if that greed was reciprocated, if he was bored, or even considered you a close friend, a best friend. but instead of worrying too much, you only watch how his fingers work with a bulky camera, capturing nature's highs and lows.

“i know,” you twiddle with your fingers, grumbling, “class is boring anyway.” the brunette furrows his brows at the photos, brushing your excuse off, “this is shit. i think i’ve taken enough photos around the school.” he groans softly; you could practically hear his creative mind burning in the process. “did you delete the picture of me?” you question, standing over the lanky boy’s crouched form. “no, that one is good. i mean, the actual background, it's all repetitive.”

you tap a finger on your chim, “ahh,” you hum, pretending to understand his perspective. “winter should be here already.” the teenager grumbles under his breath before letting go of the camera to let it hang off his neck. you pace around slowly, feeling the surface of leaves crushing under your heels. “I mean, you don’t have to stay in school if you’re already skipping class.” you mutter, watching as a boyish grin lights up on his face. “you’re right, [y/n]! let’s go!”

a cold hand wraps his fingers around yours before dragging you to the nearest exit—"dazai!” you whine as the brunette drags you, “it’s cooooolllddddd!” you complain, your scarf nearly falling off as you run and run. hand in hand. this rather rushing feeling brings you a taste of memories you barely remember you had.

no one understood Dazai Osamu,

because he was a prodigy, he was something. something big, something great, something that made other geniuses seethe in envy. the boy had extraordinary intellect but a weak mind. no, dazai wasn't weak. he was just always unwell to a certain degree, and to most, it didn't take much to figure out—wearing long sleeves in summer, loving bandages for the comforting feelings even if he didn't need them, and reading books guiding the suicidal. dazai never hid it—that he was unwell, almost like a cry for help.

but for the genius that he was, nobody understood that.

but you did, in seventh grade. you were sniffling, pacing in remnants of snow as tears blurred your vision. though in your hazy field of sight, you outline the figure of one of your classmates approaching you, his tall frame catching the snowflakes from hitting your face. slowly, a boyish voice calls out.

"...are you okay?"

it was dazai, the stone-faced boy and talented prodigy. he wore a black trenchcoat, a little too big for his figure, and covered one of his chocolate brown eyes with bandages. you shook your head, a throbbing pain added from the tinge of snowflakes collecting in your hair. his stoic gaze never left you, standing there in the middle of a snowstorm, crying. the boy himself couldn't muster a feasible reason for walking outside in a snowstorm at this hour, so out of courtesy and a slight tinge of nervousness, he whispered, "let's go for a walk."

suddenly, nimble fingers reach out to grab yours; your fingers are used to originally wipe snot and cover your face. but dazai had no reaction to anything gross like that—like snot and tears. instead, he took shaky fingers into the cold ones of his own, pulling you gently along the sidewalk. you could barely make out his face or your feelings at the moment, only focused on his broad shoulders covered by that raven trench coat, soaking up snowflakes and the well of your tears.

from there, you walked and walked. hand in hand. soon running together with no particular destination—only feeling your body starting to warm up, sore feet clashing against snow, and his hand that never let go of yours.

Dazai Osamu never knew why you were crying, nor did you know what ever went through his head that day.

but from that moment forward,

you understood him.

soon, you were led by that same hand past pretty autumn leaves and into a foresty meadow, closed off from the rest of the world. several forms of wildlife scrapped by, followed by a murky pond under the sun's wake, surrounded by trees of reds and oranges. it perfectly provided what the school's campus couldn't—a sense of divergence reeling in the soft convolutions of your brain. "pretty, isn't it?"—the brunette chimes, panting from the long distance you two ran. "why'd you do that?" you grumble, rubbing your abdomen from an incoming sharp pain, "don't you have asthma?"

he immediately backtracks, shooting you an unamused glare, "that's.. enough." dazai huffs, before removing the strapped camera around his neck, "here, maybe you can take better pictures than i can." the boy chuckles shyly, a very drastic verbal response than his usual arrogance.

"hmm," a gentle hum slips past your lips, squinting one of your eyes in order to press the machine against your face. "i can try." after scouting the area with his camera for a few seconds, you began to snap a few shots at the darkening lake, carrying several leaves in its wake.

and as you paid full attention to the awaiting winter, dazai's gaze stayed on you, his autumn. his gaze softened and his slightly chapped lips parted in a momentary surprise, taking you in with every breath he took. Dazai himself loved photography; he loved capturing moments that would soon get lost in time. the brunette, with a talent for many things, found solace in photos. he loved to take photos of resting cats, dark sceneries you'd only find in an alleyway of a fantasy novel, and candid pictures of random couples on dates. dazai loved taking photos but detested that he didn't have a camera on hand at the moment—for he wanted to freeze this divine sight of you in the confines of his brain. your face, fingers, the dip and curve of every facial feature, and how the lighting kisses your skin and hair.

"how's it like? being a total genius?"

you were rather familiar with all your classmates, just curiously getting to know the mysterious musical prodigy, dazai osamu. it was a work period, and everyone in class already begun to slack off, especially since there was a supply.

and you knew that the lanky boy was eerily quiet when the school's athletic hotshot, Chuuya Nakahara, wasn't around. so, asking stupid questions won't exactly result in stupid answers, or so you thought.

"why? wanna be like me?" — he smiles teasingly, tilting his sharp jaw in your direction. "don't think someone who cries in the snow can do it, sorry." you freeze up and scoff, slightly embarrassed from the former interaction you had with him. "dick." a peaceful but awkward silence fills the air between both of you before the boy clears his throat awkwardly. "But i'd be willing to talk about it if you let me bother you at lunch.?"

the question itself caught you off guard. looking around at the chattering students, "i—" the brunette backtracked, hiding his face slightly with gauzed fingers. "Actually!—I am going to bother you. you're friends with chuuya, aren't you?" you shrug, eyes fluttering to the ground, "..i guess so, but i don't eat with him or his friends."

A breathless chuckle slips past the prodigy's lips before covering his mouth softly, completely ignoring you, "alright then, see you anyway, crybaby."

he hates himself for not knowing what to do with you, but he loved you more to let hate consume him, like usual. dazai wanted you; he didn't know what yearning was until he saw pieces of you in sunsets, rain and snow. he's felt destiny with his childhood friend, chuuya nakahara. but he's never felt something so desiring, pining — like he wanted to be with you every day. and maybe one of those days he'll feel you without the stupid gauze wrapped around his fingers. maybe one day he can hold your hand without the excuse of dragging you somewhere new. maybe one day, dazai will figure out how to ask you to be his, how to love you, because he's sure you're the one he wants to love.

"ahh, wait.."

you cock a brow at his shocked face, grabbing onto your sleeve as if the prodigy were reaching for the stars.

"I wish I were a painter, instead." the boy pouts, holding your sleeve childishly, pulling a chuckle from your throat, "why is that, huh?"

dazai's eyes, ever so empty and unfilled, now gleam, pretty and gentle. Softly reaching out to part a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear, gazing up at you feverishly. "usually, I'm so prideful about these things, photography.."

The prodigy clears his throat, his fingers threading through soft strands of hair tucked behind your ear. "But your eyes, they are really pretty." Your lips part bashfully surprised, overcoming your ability to move.

The boy continues as if his mouth was switched on autopilot: " So I wish I could paint them instead. I guess just looking works, too, though."

He smiles cheekily.

all you ever knew was noise,

but you, Dazai Osamu, had that kind of silence to keep you awake at night. Whether that'd be holding hands in a snowstorm, or the few moments he'd stare into your eyes.

Little did you know, that was the moment he fell in love. Or rather, the time it took him to realise you don't fall.

That love has grown before you can even realise it.

✧ chocsra™

[chocsra]

im jumping w joy at my new theme im gonna cry !!

[chocsra]

what if instead of eating ants dazai got ✨️ freaky ✨️ with me.

IM REPLYING TK THIS SO LATEEEEE

i totally condone this 👅👅 including ants w it too

[chocsra]

So like does "Size that broke the bond of love" have a part 2?? 😭

hii anon! i dont really plan to make part 2s unless you have a prompt i could use w it ☹️☹️ thank u for asking!!

[chocsra]

miss ur posts 😔 💔

accckkkkk i feel so bad for leaving for two months i had intense writers block and couldnt get back into it

hopefully now i stay bc this yr's school work is sm easier than last yr so 😮‍💨😮‍💨 bungo is not in a good place rn considering the last chapters .. 😭😭

but i miss yall so much 🙁🙁

[chocsra]

thinking about criminal!reader's first interaction with chuuya nakahara.. just doing her duties as an ability user who chose organised crime in a corporate suit, as she stumbles upon a well-known mafia executive hanging upside down from the ceiling. russet curls that cascaded down ivory skin, followed by the elegance and silk of his appearance. cashmere attire, precious stones, cigarettes.. the slim column of his neck decorated with the tug and pull of a raven buckled collar. his button-up, vest, and coat—so many layers. the hallway was dark, the man's gaze darker—a collection of beautiful features set upon that pretty face.

your duties strictly outline that you're here for business and business only. your eyes widen as you peer up at the man hanging from the ceiling, his hair and accessories not being affected by gravity whatsoever. "so this is the port mafia!" you extend your arms joyously, obviously too joyous in this line of business, "i didn't know they had such handsome executives," you cheekily smile, reaching into your pocket, his grey eyes narrow judgingly at your words of praise. with no expectations for your flirtatious attempt with a dangerous, busy and the strongest ability user and mafia executive, you fish out a small piece of paper and extend it near the upside-down man's face. "may i please get your number, sir?"

your eyelashes flutter innocently with the paper still slipped between crime-ridden fingers, gazing up at the man with almost docile eyes, or docile intentions. a low groan pulls from his throat, sighing to himself as a signal of contemplation as a gloved hand reaches out to rub his chin, the red glow of his ability softly shimmering in the dimness of the hallway you were in. "hmm.." chuuya hums, fishing into the pockets of his raven slacks. your heartbeat quickens as his contemplative and borderline judgemental gaze turns into a smirk, "sure, doll. you should've asked me earlier." sexy undertones linger in his play of words, stealing the paper in between your fingers as he takes out a pen to place his digits. your lips part slightly in a moment of shock, not expecting anything from this supposedly silly interaction.

chuuya gently slips the paper between your lips, your lipgloss leaving a soft stain on the material. hands shakily palming the paper, you can feel your knees weaken as the meeting doors open, a soft chuckle gracing his lips as the man mutters. "see ya around,"

eyes widening as elegant cursive fills your gaze, you read—"090-xxx-xxx,

- Nakahara Chuuya ;)"

you couldn't sleep for two weeks after that.

✧ chocsra™