#chuuya and his red bedsheets

[hakiscoffeeshop]

my piece for this year’s soukoku big bang event on twitter! please check out all the other artists and writers!!

inspired by this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43214874/chapters/108616179

read til chapter three to understand these images ;)

[still-fatemeh]

"nothin' quite like how a dog loves"

Beast! Nakahara Chuuya x reader

°•Searching for memories that aren’t there, this heart of mine closes itself up•°

Despite the spark of euphoria that coursed through his veins moments ago, now it had all returned to its usual emptiness that seemed to consume everything around him. It felt like someone had dunked a huge bucket of ugly blue colour all over his life, every other beautiful colour felt nonexistent. Chuuya felt shitty beneath the bed covers and takako wasn't being a huge help either, all curled up in the sheets as she struggled to light a cigarette, even the lighter had lost its spark.

He let out an exhale, watching as takako attempted to light a cigarette without any success. His mood shifted as he shifted in the bed, propping himself up on one elbow to get a better look.

"Need a hand with that, huh?" he inquired, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Her gaze snapped down to look at him, her lips twitching into a subtle smile.

"Maybe. What's gotten you actin' so helpful all of a sudden?"

Takako mumbled as she placed both the cigarette and the broken lighter in his hands, her smile morphing into a teasing smirk, mirroring his.

His smirk lingered as he accepted the cigarette and lighter. His nimble fingers expertly flicked the lighter to life, and he lit the end of the cigarette, taking a moment to savor the first drag. A plume of smoke streamed from his lips as he spoke, his tone tinged with a hint of dry sarcasm.

"Oh, you know, just feeling extra generous today." He paused, offering her the lit cigarette. "Or perhaps I just couldn't bear to watch you struggle any longer."

She watched him light the cigarette with a nonchalant expression. Chuuya could see the reflection of the flame in her eyes. Her pupils absorbed the light, no longer dilated.

She took the cigarette from him, bringing it to her lips.

"Showoff. That's exactly how I'd describe it."

Chuuya allowed his gaze to wander over her, taking in the sight of her, clad in nothing but the bedsheets, her body partly illuminated by the cigarette's warm glow. She liked to smoke like this, naked in the cool sheets, with only the hot red tip of a cigarette to light her fingers in the dark. From the soft flutter of her eyelashes to the way her lips curled around the filter, every movement seemed almost trance-like, adding an extra allure. He chuckled at her words, his smile growing more playful.

"Oh, you're calling me a showoff now, huh?" he teased, resting back against the headboard, his eyes never leaving her. "Maybe I just like showing off for you, darlin'. Can't blame a guy for enjoying a good audience."

"Audience, huh? What do you plan on giving your audience other than bad news?" Another sarcastic quip from her, the grin on her lips not fading any time soon.

"Bad news and a sore ass for being a smartass, princess," he retorted, narrowing his eyes at her. "You always know how to push my buttons, don't you? Lucky you, I'm feeling generous today."

"Oh, lucky me~"

She spoke wistfully, not-so-subtly making fun of his words.

Takako then tilts her head down at him with a faux simpering smile as she took a long drag from her cigarette, then let the smoke dribble slowly from her nose and mouth, "Speaking of bein' sore..."

He rolled his eyes at her mockery, a smirk playing on his lips. He watched as she did her thing, the slow, purposeful movement sending a familiar heat through his body.

"Oh, shut it," he retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You're not as innocent as you look, dollface. You knew exactly what you were doing earlier."

"Innocent?" She mutters in a half-questioning half-mocking way. Then she merely smirks, sucking more than half the length of the cigarette into her mouth.

"I was never innocent." She mumbles under her breath, quickly dismissing her statement with a snicker. She shook her head as she reached her free hand to gently trace his forehead, brushing the now messy strands behind his ear.

"But what am I even complaining about? You love being the cause, right?"

Chuuya chuckled at her comment, the sound tinged with a hint of satisfaction. He always did love being the cause of her soreness - a smug sense of pride settling in his chest. As her hand traced his forehead, he tilted his head into her touch, his smirk morphing into a small, satisfied smile.

"Damn right, I do," he agreed, his voice dropping an octave. "You're mine, dollface. Every damn part of you."

She cupped his face with her free hand, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on his cheek as she gave him the most deceitful look of affection she's ever given him. She gave him a lot of those looks, but this one easily took the crown.

"Really? That's how you feel about a fuckbuddy? Interesting..." Takako said, her tone dripping with amusements as she kept rubbing the one spot on his face, trying to wipe away the smudged red on his cheek.

"I think my lipstick isn't gonna come off of you that easily, I mean... Wow, that shit really stained..."

Her red lipstick was smeared all over his skin, from his face to his chest and shoulders, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Her touch was soft, her gaze affectionate, but her words were laced with that same infuriating amusement that always seemed to set his teeth on edge.

"Don't mistake me for a bleeding heart, doll," he retorted, his tone turning a touch more firm. "You know damn well what you are to me."

"Oh trust me, sweetie... That's the last thing I'd ever take you for." Her smile was saccharine but there was a sharpness in her eyes that he despised, on that suggested there was more to her words than what it was on the surface - despite that, he'd grown used to it by now.

"And speaking of bleeding hearts..."

She leaned back a bit to put out the cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand. After that, she reached out to pull him closer, taking his face into her hands, cupping cheeks hard enough to squish his them.

Chuuya's gaze darkened a little at her words, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. He knew that sharp look all too well, and it never failed to get under his skin. As she pulled him closer, his expression softened slightly, his annoyance fading somewhat.

"Lamprocapnos, whatever you call 'em... Get me some next time you drop by my place."

"Lampro-what?" he said, his tone more gruff and perplexed than anything else. "Are you seriously asking me to remember some fancy-ass flower name? Really?"

"You can remember the names of the fifty dead subordinates of yours, yet you can't learn a four syllable plant name?" Takako raised a brow at him in mild confusion, as if she didn't understand the difference.

The man scoffed, a mixture of annoyance and resignation in the sound. Her words hit a nerve, and he scowled at her in response.

Here they go... fighting over stupid shit AGAIN.

"Dead subordinates don't just grow in the damn garden, darlin'," he retorted, his gaze hardening, "I don't need to remember the names of some useless plants. Besides, I never forget a face or a name. Not ever."

"I do."

She muttered, absently throwing her head back to look at the ceiling. The flicker in those emerald eyes gone.

"I don't care to remember faces of the dead. Who they were, what they did in the port mafia, who were their families... Nothing, because it doesn't matter. And the flowers you put on their graves don't do them any favours either."

He knew she was indifferent towards the dead, maybe even flippant, but he had not anticipated such bitterness.

"Damn, doll... You're in a cheerful mood tonight, aren't you?" he said, his tone holding a hint of annoyance. "Flowers may not do much to honor the dead, but they're a gesture of respect. Something you clearly lack no matter who's involved."

Takako's expression could only be described as apathy, nothing could be seen behind those eyes, hollow and empty. Her lips twitching in the same manner they'd twitch whenever she was disgusted.

"People who throw their lives away don't deserve any respect, they were just bodies even before their inevitable death."

Chuuya's frown deepened, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes at her cold, apathetic words. He'd grown used to her sharp tongue and callous demeanor, but her lack of respect for life never failed to get under his skin.

"Spare me the damn holier-than-thou attitude, dollface," he retorted, his voice gruff. "They were men. With families. Dreams. Lives. You'd do well to remember that before you go spitting on their graves."

"I never acted as if I was the moral high ground here, you are." She mumbled under her breath, her index finger gently tracing his face as her eyes followed the path as it smoothly went up and down his face, stopping at the tip of his nose. "You, despite having killed more people than you'll ever greet, are lying in my bed talking as if you know what's right and wrong." Her lips twitched into a lazy smirk as she spoke but her tone was barely challenging. "Now whose the one with the holier-than-thou attitude?"

Chuuya bristled at her words, his jaw clenching involuntarily in irritation. She had a certain way of riling him up. Did she enjoy it? Fuck yeah, she did. There was no other reason behind why she kept acting like some hallow shell, it was to spite him, to pester him. To tell him that despite how much he hates her, he'll still stay. Because he needs her.

She couldn't actually be that empty, right?

"Oh, don't give me that crap, dollface." He muttered, his voice lethargic. "Just because I kill without batting an eye doesn't mean I can't recognize respect. It's a damn sight better than being a cold, heartless bi..."

He trailed off, his gaze fixing on her lazily smirking mouth.

"What an insult." Takako spoke, her sarcastic tone was drier than the deserts in Africa. "Your logic is filled with holes and gaps, cracks if one might call it. But who I am to judge anyway?" She watched his temper flare with an undeniable satisfaction on her face, crossing her arms over her chest with a faux self-righteous expression.

"Oh, spare me the damn mockery, takako," he growled, his voice low and edged with annoyance. "My logic is just fine, you're the one who enjoys poking holes in everything, but yours is just one big, black hole. You've got no damn respect for anything or anyone, do you? It's just empty, all the way down. A cold, empty, heartless—"

He paused, the last word catching in his throat.

She didn't even look remotely offended, it didn't even look like she understood the sting of the words leaving his mouth.

"Don't mind me, continue." She said, rolling her eyes.

She was trying way too hard to mimic the expression of an insulted person. There was no bite to her tone, chuuya wanted her to bark back, get mad, say way worse stuff to him. That was what got him going.

Not this. Anything but this.

Takako was getting more and more like dazai, it was as if someone was sucking the soul out of everyone he knew.

"Did you... perhaps, run out of names to call me?"

She trailed off with a lopsided smirk.

Nakahara absently gritted his teeth at her nonchalant attitude, his frustration mounting further. Her half-assed attempts at mockery only served to egg him on.

"No, I didn't run out of names to call you, dollface," he retorted, his voice full of exhaustion. "But I'm tired of wasting my breath on someone who seems to revel in their own emptiness. It's like trying to knock sense into a damn brick wall."

"Oh? Took you long enough to figure that out." She whispered softly with a false hint of serenity in her expression.

"And here you are... Mister moral high ground, who, after all the shit he deals with on a daily basis, has the energy to lecture my ass on the very important topic of 'respecting cadavers'..."

Chuuya was fighting demons, his jaw clenching even further at her condescending tone and that god awful false innocence in her eyes. He wanted to pick one of the pillows and press it down onto her face till she shut up, for real this time.

"Don't pretend like you even know the meaning of respect, dollface," he snapped, his voice rising in volume. "You're just a coldhearted bi—"

He stopped himself again, his jaw clenching so hard it hurt. He wasn't going to let her get under his skin. He wouldn't let her win.

"A cold hearted bitch? Say it. Why don't you say it? What are you scared of?" She tilted her head to the side slightly, her jaw slack and her features carried a fake hint of boredom. "You don't get to act all high and mighty with me when you're the one who comes to me because you can't bear to spend a night alone with your thoughts. Why do you even bother with me if everytime I open my mouth you look like you're about to have an aneurysim? There's an easy way to get around that, you know?"

His heart sank.

There really was an easy way to get around that, wasn't it?

He didn't have it in him to get himself out, to tell himself that the girl he once loved is gone, she's dead. Replaced with the hollow shell that she was.

"You think you have me all figured out, don't you?" his sentence came out a bitig warning, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you know how I tick. You think just because I can't bear to spend a damn night alone with my thoughts, I come crawling back to you. It's all a game to you, isn't it? You're just a damn-"

He stopped himself again, his breath hitching in his throat.

"Yeah, I am."

Takako's tone was dead, it was all dead.

He felt like he couldn't breathe.

Was he dying too?

All that was left was emptiness. All that was left of this world was emptiness. This isn't how it was supposed to be - And the world laughed at him and what he is, and dragged him closer by that painful leash of loyalty...

His lets his head hang low, his hair falling into his face, allowing him this tiny shred of dignity as he whimpers like a wounded dog.

"Ko, this isn't how you used... to talk."

The voice was unfamiliar to takako's ears, sent a shiver down her spine. This wasn’t the nakahara chuuya who barked orders at his subordinates, who had the audacity to order dazai around sometimes- of course he did, this wasn't the man who scared her. This wasn't that chuuya.

This was a lost boy, wondering what happened, why's his knee bloody? Why's his bike all wrecked? Why does it hurt?

She tried to get that image out of her mind. The similarity unsettled her.

"People change. For better or for worse."

.

.

.

After that, she just sat up and pushed the covers out of the way with a loud groan. Getting out of the bed and reaching for a robe on the rack near her bed.

He watched her as she pushed herself out of bed and grabbed a robe.

Aww, Ko was leaving so soon... He was starting to enjoy her... unique brand of pillow talk.

She stepped out of her bedroom. He could hear her stomping her way to the kitchen.

Chuuya watched her leave, his irritation fading for a brief moment as he took her in.

He couldn't help but let out a small huff of laughter.

That firecracker of a woman was something else. It was a damn wonder she could even breathe with that stick shoved so far up her ass.

.

.

.

Takako came back with a bottle of brandy in her hand. She quitely sat on the other side of the bed as she chugged away at the bottle, her face a twisted mix of frustration and fatigue as her gaze focused on an unknown spot in the dimly lit room.

His gaze followed her every move. And for once, his own irritation was forgotten. He almost didn't have the heart to ask her what was wrong, but eventually, he spoke up.

"Hey, dollface," he started, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "What's eating you?" Not the smartest thing he could've said - he noted to himself.

Her gaze was still fixed on a specific spot in the room, staring at the wall, her eyes half-lidded and unfocused. She didn't respond to his question, merely humming as a form of acknowledgement as she took another swig from the bottle, then offered it to chuuya.

He couldn't shake the feeling that something was bothering her, something more than just their usual squabblings.

Chuuya took the brandy from her hand, sensing the frigidity of her fingers as he did so. He took a swig, the alcohol burning his throat as it went down.

"Oho, slow down, big boy... I don't want you passing out on me now~" She finally turned her head to look at him, a lazy smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she reached for the bottle. Despite her words being as slanderous as ever, they lacked their usual bite. Ko was just teasing him for the sake of teasing him. "You still have to deal with dazai tomorrow. You might wanna save yourself the hangover."

Chuuya rolled his eyes at her words, a smirk tugging at his mouth. He knew she was just trying to poke fun at him like she always did, but he couldn't help but find her usual sharpness lacking.

"Oh, so now you're worried about my drinking habits, dollface?" he taunted, his eyes narrowing playfully. "I can handle my liquor just fine, thank you very much. And I can handle Dazai just as well."

Takako fought the urge to roll her eyes at his transplant lie. Her chuuya passed out half a glass of liquor, and yet he still lacked the level of self-awareness to not boost about his alcohol tolerance. But she didn't call him out for it, shrugging off the statement as she downed as much as she could from that bottle.

After she heard him mention dazai, she put the bottle down, eyes sharpening.

"Why don't you just let that bastard die?"

His expression darkened at her question.

"Do you really think I can control whether boss lives or dies, huh? You're just so dumb sometimes..." he muttered, a hint of frustration in his tone. "He's dazai. He's valuable to the organization, as much as I hate to admit it. And as much as I'd like to see him choke on his own damn blood, I can't just go around breaking orders."

Her index finger traced the mouth of the bottle with a facade of indifference, but chuuya could feel something boiling under her skin.

"Is it because he's sitting in the seat that used to belong to Mori, and you're still too afraid to turn your back on him, on your family?"

In place of afraid, she wanted to say loyal, but she wouldn't say that to his face, never.

As soon as the words left her lips, Chuuya bristled. He tensed up, his fingers clenching against the sheets. She hit a nerve, a raw, exposed nerve. One that he didn't want her anywhere near.

Dazai had taken Mori's place, and a part of him still couldn't shake the feeling of loyalty towards his former boss.

"You don't know a damn thing, dollface," he spoke out, his voice edged with anger. "It's not about fear. It's about loyalty, surviving. We do what we have to do, and we shut up. That's how things work. That's how they've always worked."

She put the bottle down.

"Always, huh?"

Takako shifted a bit, sitting up on the bed to wrap her arms around his, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

Chuuya felt her embrace, her touch both a comfort and a pain. He could hear the regret in her voice, the resignation in her words. And it twisted something deep within his chest, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to respond. So he just stayed still, letting her hold him, letting her press that soft kiss to his shoulder.

"It doesn't matter." He muttered, his voice baring a hint of vulnerability. "Just... drop it, dollface."

She didn’t say anything, didn’t even bother responding or throwing a snarky comment his way. She just kept at it, leaving a trail of kisses from his shoulder to his neck, up to his cheek. He could feel the vulnerability in her touch, the silent plea for comfort. He wanted to stay angry, to push her away, but he couldn't. Her gentle kisses were like a soothing salve on his wounded pride, and against his better judgment, he found himself giving in to her touch.

His hand found its way to the small of her back, pulling her closer to him, his palm splaying out against her soft skin.

Takako's chest pressed against his, the satin robe smooth against his skin. She reached out to cup kiss face, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

He could practically taste the brandy on her lips, sharp and sweet. The kiss tearing apart any thread of sobriety left in him. It was a chaste kiss, a tentative touch of lips, yet it sent a rush of heat through his veins. The taste of it on her lips was like a drug, clouding his senses, and the feel of her body pressed against his was electrifying.

Chuuya's grip tightened, pulling her even closer, their bodies flushed against each other. He wanted more, needed more. He wanted to drown himself in her, lose himself in the feel of her.

Just as he was about to deepen the kiss, Takako pulled away, not to catch her breath but to torment him. Ignoring the way his lips absently chased after her, she merely chuckled, slithering closer to sit on his lap.

Chuuya groaned in frustration as she pulled away, the way his lips involuntarily chased hers for more was pathetic. His hand on her back slid downwards, grabbing her hip with a possessive grip, trying to hold onto her.

"Are you happy I'd never understand?"

The question that caught him off-guard. He didn't expect her to guess, but this was Takako.

She knew because she was a despicable bi-

He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he met her gaze. "Happy?" he repeated, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "No... happy isn't the word I'd use, dollface. Relieved. That's closer to the truth."

"Why'd you be relieved?" She asked, flashing him an innocent expression, lashes fluttering and pupils dilated as she twirled a strand of his hair around her finger, shifting on his lap to get more comfortable.

The feeling of her moving against him sent a jolt of heat straight through him.

He knew damn well that she was playing him. Takako was playing coy with him. It didn't take a genius to figure out she wanted something out of this conversation.

He was tempted to call her out on it, to tell her to cut the crap, but he refrained. Instead, he grunted in response, his voice gravelly as he spoke. "You really want to know why, dollface?"

Her face grew more serious, her eyes narrowing and immediately losing that fake gleam.

"Spell it out for me, and I'll let you have it off again," Takako presented him with that deal neutrally, as if she was reporting the weather or some shit. "How's that?"

Chuuya's eyes widened a fraction at her offer, surprise quickly followed by a flicker of irritation. She was bartering with him, offering him something he wanted in exchange for an explanation. It was a game, and he knew it. But God help him, he wanted it.

He clenched his jaw, his hand on her hip gripping tighter.

"You want me to spell it out?" he repeated, his voice low, almost purring. "You want me to give you my reason for being relieved that you'll never understand the loyalty I feel for Dazai?"

"Yes, tell me all about it."

She lifted her hand and let it cradle his cheek. Her fingers trailed on his skin, and she moved her hand up so that interlocked with his ear, bringing her face closer to his.

"You hate him so much that you want him dead, yet you have to protect him because he's the boss; just like a pendulum snapping from one side to the other. Doesn't it get tiresome, chuuya?"

It was infuriating how she was able to see through him so easily. Even more infuriating how she could state his inner turmoils so bluntly.

"Of course it's damn tiresome," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "Do you think I want this? Do you think I asked for this burden?" He paused, taking a sharp breath before continuing.

"But it's a part of who I am, as much as I hate him. It's in my blood."

I know what it's like to care for what ruins you,

Takako's eyes were locked on him, but at the same time, they... weren't. Her gaze was so far-off in the future that it felt like she wasn't even there. Then she sighed, her thumb gently rubbing his cheek.

"I've seen corpses in the mortuary more alive than that man."

Chuuya's eyes narrowed as he listened to her words, his jaw clenching in silent agreement.

Takako was a surgeon, doc's former subordinate, the best in the port mafia, and the whole underbelly of the city. That not only secured her position as an executive but had her placed as dazai's personal doctor.

Her saying that about dazai was nothing short of ominous...

It was something he'd thought time and time again, but never voiced aloud.

Dazai...

He was a walking corpse, a shell of a person. He hadn't always been this way, though, but the memories of when dazai was a teen had long faded in his mind.

So he'd been for as long as Chuuya could remember.

"Some people just don't want to..."

He raised an eyebrow at her statement, his eyes never leaving hers. "Don't want to what?"

Takako didn't respond, only let her thumb trace chuuya's bottom lip, pulling it down to reveal the teeth, exactly in a way someone does to observe a dog's canines.

The Dazai they'd known had long ago drowned in a pit of darkness and she knew it, she felt it.

"I don't know."

She finally spoke, with a sigh.

Chuuya allowed her to gently prod at his lip, his tongue briefly peeking out against her thumb. Her words, however, were like a dagger to his chest.

The Dazai they knew... no, the Dazai they thought they knew... had already sunk too far into the abyss.

The thought of it was a bitter pill to swallow, and he could feel a lump form in his throat.

It couldn't be denied, not anymore.

Dazai... the Dazai he'd known... was so far gone...

Chuuya swallowed the lump and forced out, "You do know."

She forced her thumb further into his mouth, if he couldn't see the way she was looking at him, he'd have assumed she was teasing his mouth or some shit. But her eyes were blank, it seemed like almost clinical, as if she was inspecting a specimen. Chuuya's breath hitched at the sudden intrusion of her thumb in his mouth, her gaze making him feel like a lab rat beneath an observation lens.

"If I knew anything I would've told you." She said firmly with a hint of frustration in her tone.

He fought the urge to pull away, clenching his jaw around her thumb instead. Her firm words contradicted the blank look in her eyes, and he could sense her frustration.

"Bullshit." He mumbled around her digit, his hot breath fanning against her skin. He wasn't buying her act.

She suddenly pressed her thumb further into his mouth, hard enough to make him gag.

"Mmph!"

Chuuya's eyes widened as her thumb pressed deeper into his mouth, triggering his gag reflex and sending a surge of panic through him. Instinctively, he reacted, shoving her forcefully away from him.

She tumbled off the bed with a loud thud, leaving Chuuya stunned as he pushed himself forward, his chest heaving. "What the hell was that for? You alright? Do you wanna to choke me to death or somethin?!"

Takako's eyes were fixed on the bedroom's ceiling like nothing happened. She seemed to be oddly content sprawled out on the ground like that.

"That's not how you choke someone, chuuya." She muttered absent-mindedly.

Chuuya's reflexes were still no doubt sharper than a no. 10 scalpel at an obtuse angle.

"Not everyone has a gag reflex. It was nothing compared to what you make me take." Her tone was awfully nonchalant.

Chuuya's eyes widened at her comment. The sheer audacity of her words had him taken aback, a flush of heat creeping up his cheeks in response to her blunt statement.

Her nonchalant tone only served to make him more irritable, the memories of their more intimate moments flashing through his mind. He huffed out a short breath, his hands clenching into fists by his sides. "You're playing a dangerous game, dollface." He forced out, his voice low. "You're testing my patience."

"Or lack there of, if you wanna make that statement correct." Takako said casually, slowly sitting up on the wooden floor as she rubbed her back.

A vein on Chuuya's forehead visibly bulged as she casually corrected him, taking a deep breath to try and calm the irritation prickling beneath his skin.

"I got what I wanted, you can have what I promised if you feel like it."

He observed as she sat up on the floor, her words drawing his full attention. She'd gotten what she wanted. The thought sent a shiver of unease through him.

[feeblescholarmyass]

"To Whoever Is Dicking Around on a Motorcycle in the Middle of the Night..."

in which your neighbor, Chuuya Nakahara, stays up too late messing with his motorcycle and it keeps you awake

tags: pre-relationship, pining stage, excessive use of the word "motorcycle", reader does not like riding a motorcycle, ooc? Chuuya (I tried my best babes but I am soo early in the series), this was beta read (rare) so it shouldn't have too many mistakes (ty @ratty-rat-toot 💞), vague hints that reader works in a bakery, I lost motivation at the end so the sections got shorter

a/n: this will not be part of a series, but expect more Chuuya fics in the future!!!

You tossed to your side for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. You'd been attempting to fall asleep for hours. No matter what you did, it just wouldn't happen. You took your medication, made sure to soothe yourself and prepare for bed. Yet, you just couldn't seem to get any rest at all. The grueling summer heat combined with your normal insomnia was not doing you any favors.

You peeled your eyelids open and groped around in the dark to find your phone and check the time. At first, your fingers found nothing but your own bedsheets. Only after a more thorough and frustrated search did you find what you were looking for. You winced as the screen flashed a blinding light when you turned it on, and it took your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the invasive light before you could read the time. It was only a few minutes from midnight, meaning you had about six hours left to attempt to go to sleep.

You groaned into your pillow, wishing for summer to be over already. Once the days were shorter and the temperatures lower, you had much higher hopes for finally finding some sort of sleep schedule besides an attempt. Unfortunately, the days were only going to get hotter from there on out.

You rolled back onto your side, wrapping your arms around a blanket and struggled to find a comfortable position that wouldn't cook you in your sleep.

Just as your eyes fluttered shut and the weight of your cat against your legs began to lull you into sleep, the loud sound of an engine revving startled you back awake. You were no engine expert, but it sounded like a motorcycle.

(More UTC)

Is someone really taking their motorcycle out for a ride at this hour? That's ridiculous. Just go away, already! I'm trying to sleep, god dammit! You thought, stuffing your head under a pillow.

However, the noises from your neighbor's garage did not get any quieter. The longer this persisted, the more irritable you grew.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," you cried, throwing off your light blanket (much to your cat's protest) and shoved on the first jacket you could find to cover yourself a little. It was too hot for proper pajamas, so you had been in bed wearing the tiniest pajama shorts in your possession and some decently comfortable undergarments.

You marched to your front door, pulled it open, and followed the sound to the mystery individual who thought it was a good idea to play mechanic in the middle of the night. It was dark, but the moon was almost full, so you had plenty of light to find your way around the street. It helped that your eyes were used to the dark from hours of staring up at your ceiling in the lightless expanse of your bedroom.

Just down the street, two houses east and across from yours, you found the culprit, kneeling on the concrete of his open garage, tuning up his expensive looking bike. The motorcycle itself was hot pink, and from the looks of it, a decent model. As much as you appreciated good taste, it didn't excuse the noise at such a late hour.

"Hey, idiot!" You shouted. Was the name calling a little unnecessarily rude? Yes, but it was also unnecessary for him to be so loud at practically midnight, so you didn't feel any remorse.

The perpetrator looked up at you from the task at hand, red hair tied up loosely against his neck, and grayish blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. It would have been pretty, if you weren't so pissed off. Actually, even through your vision that was blurred from exhaustion and blind, sleepy rage, he was incredibly attractive. It was unfortunate that you had to meet like this.

"It's the middle of the night! Don't you think you should keep it down?! Some of us are trying to sleep!" You readjusted your jacket, realizing you must look a little crazy standing in a stranger's yard in only your undergarments, some very tiny shorts, and a very thin jacket. In your defense, you hadn't been expecting to make any late night visits to crazy neighbor boys to make complaints.

He frowned for a moment before his expression relaxed. "Sorry," he called back. He got up from the ground and dusted off his knees. You took notice of his grease covered forearms. He had been messing with the bike. You hoped he knew what he was doing and wasn't just an amateur trying a hand at such expensive upkeep.

"You'd better be," you muttered under your breath. You turned on your heel with a huff and stomped back to your house, all the while attempting not to flash the frustratingly pretty boy who was watching you leave with a dumbfounded grin on his face.

Embarrassing lack of clothes aside, it had felt good to yell at someone. Maybe now you'd be able to sleep with some peace of mind, knowing the sanctity of the night was once again just as quiet as it should be.

After that, there were no more motorcycle engine noises keeping you up in the night. Once again, only your poor habits and unfortunate circumstances prevented you from getting a full night's rest.

It seemed that motorcycle boy had taken your complaint into consideration and decided not to do any more impromptu repairs at all hours of the night.

Sadly, that didn't mean you slept any better. You were an absolute wreck today. One night of poor sleep had turned into a week of hardly getting any rest at all. Currently, you were waddling around like a zombie, hardly able to think as your body performed on autopilot to get all the necessary tasks done. You couldn't even remember what you'd eaten for breakfast that morning, or if you'd even had breakfast at all.

Last night had resulted in a total four hours of fitful sleep, accompanied by the strangest dreams you couldn't even remember. Something about weretigers and detectives, but it was all so intelligible that you didn't bother attempting to unwind the mystery of whatever your subconscious had cooked up for you this time.

You had made your coffee with an extra shot of espresso and hoped for the best. You took another sip, realized it was too sweet for your tastes, but didn't care enough to do anything about it. It may have been the first cohesive thought you'd had all day.

You gave your cat a scratch between its ears and slipped on a pair of shoes so you could go out and check on the garden your father had reminded (read: demanded) you to take care of, since he couldn't keep an eye on what ingredients you were using in meals anymore. As much as you struggled to remember to care for the plants properly, you found you didn't hate the responsibility. It made you feel productive whenever you were able to harvest the results of all your troubles. The fresh taste was an added bonus.

As you watered the flowers that served as ground coverage used to shield your precious darling fruit bushes and vegetable garden from nasty herbivore vermin, you heard the sound of an engine starting up from down the street.

Ah, motorcycle boy is up, you thought. A strange thrill coursed through your veins as you remembered how he had looked in the moonlight. Bad Y/n, now is not the time to get giddy over some stupid neighbor boy. You've got to get to work soon and can't afford time to daydream.

Despite the stern talking-to you were giving yourself, you couldn't help but want to catch another glance of such a beautiful man. You turned and shielded your eyes from the rising sun, glancing at your neighbor. The view did not disappoint.

He straddled the bike as he put on his helmet. His hair was long enough you could still see it peeking out from underneath and curling around his shoulders. Red shone gold in the early morning sunshine, creating a glow around him that made you forget what you were doing just to watch him prepare to drive away.

You set down the watering can with as much care as you could manage (which is to say, very little) and pushed your hair out of your eyes to get a better view. You caught him glancing at you before he started the bike. The look he gave you sent shivers down your spine. Only once he had disappeared from your view were you able to return to fretting over the poor leaves of your radishes. It seemed some bunnies had decided those were the yummiest, and trampled your flowers just to get to them.

Oh, well. You would just have to take more care to try and prevent them from making it that far next time. Luckily, your newest plot to save your garden involved a more forceful method of keeping herbivores out of your plants.

The next time you ran into Motorcycle Boy, you were picking up some seeds to begin your new garden protection strategy. It had been a month or two without any interactions, much to your pleasure. It was a hassle to try to wrangle the butterflies he sent tumbling in your stomach back in their cage.

This time, he seemed to be fussing over the location of some wine. He was small, not much taller than a young teenage boy. For someone with such an unfriendly scowl, he didn't seem all that intimidating at the moment. You held back giggles as you watched him strain to grab the bottle he wanted, hopping up and down and cursing under his breath in frustration.

You decided not to say anything and passed him wordlessly, sticking to the opposite side of the aisle and hoping he wouldn't notice you, or at the very least he would leave you alone. You didn't have the time to play the small talk game at the moment; you had a friend on their way to visit you, and you were keen on being home before they arrived.

"Hey, you!" He called. You winced at the sound of his voice and bit back a sigh. He had noticed you and not chosen to ignore you. It seemed luck was not on your side today. "C'mere," he called.

You turned towards him and put on your best customer service smile. "Do you need something?" You asked him.

"You're the girl who showed up in my yard wearing practically nothing, yeah?" He lifted his head so he could look down at you. You felt your face go hot. Did he really have to bring that up in public? You mentally whined. "Grab this bottle for me and I'll forget about the whole thing."

All embarrassment you had felt previously turned into anger as his words registered in your brain. "Huh?!? Why should I? You really should learn to get better at asking people for help, if that's what you're trying to do here."

His eyes widened as he seemed to realize his mistake. "Hold on," he called, putting his hands up in defense. "I didn't mean it like that. 'Just thought it must have been pretty embarrassing, you know? Let me try again. Would you help me over here?"

You took a second to cool down, then took a deep breath. "Fine, since you asked so nicely," you huffed.

You reached up with a little bit of a struggle and got down the bottle he had been trying to grab, then glanced over the label. He's got good taste in alcohol, too. This is getting ridiculous.

"There, now don't mention that ever again. Please," you muttered, handing the bottle to him.

"Gotcha," he replied without another glance in your direction,, looking only at the wine bottle in his hand. He turned it over and read the labels, then tucked it under his arm and headed for the register.

"Wait!" You called, immediately cursing yourself for acting before thinking. What am I doing? I was almost free to go back to ignoring him!

He turned, raising an eyebrow at you. "Huh? D'ya need something?" He asked.

"Your name," you said before you could lose your nerve. "I've been thinking of you as Motorcycle Boy and thought I should probably learn it."

He threw back his head and laughed. Your face flushed hot again and you hoped you hadn't made a fool of yourself, especially in front of the cute boy you had been thinking about constantly for a month straight.

When his fit of laughter subsided, he grinned at you and gave you what you'd asked for. "I'm Chuuya Nakahara. And you? What name should I attach to 'Crazy Motorcycle-Hating Neighbor?"

"I do not- ugh. Y/n L/n, and I am not crazy. If anyone is crazy here, it's you. Seriously, who thinks it's time to play with a motorcycle at midnight?" You folded your arms over your chest and frowned at him. He only grinned at you again.

"See ya around, L/n. Hopefully fully dressed next time," he teased. With that said, you parted ways, each playing with the feel of the newly acquired name in your mouth.

"Y/n L/n, eh?" He muttered, twirling the stem of a lily of the valley from your garden. It was a pretty little flower; it was a shame that it was dreadfully poisonous.

He leaned back until his head hit his pillow. He wondered if you were up or if that had been a one-time incident. He hadn't touched the bike in his garage past ten p.m. since you'd marched so boldly over to his house and chided him for the noise. He briefly thought about getting it out just to see if you would come back.

You'd been running through his mind non-stop for months now. The sight of your bare legs and glimpses of the rest of you from under that jacket had him worried that damned Dazai had rubbed off on him. He couldn't help sneaking looks at you every morning as you tended to your garden before he left for work. It felt dirty every time he looked at you, because every time he would get a vivid image of you giving him a death glare while half naked.

He was no womanizer, unlike that ass. However, he had to admit that he wouldn't mind seeing you in a state of undress again.

He sat up with a start at that thought. What am I thinking? Gross, I am not getting hot and bothered over my neighbor's legs. It's just legs. Pretty, deliciously bare legs. SHUT UP.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the increasingly unwelcome thoughts of your legs and how your skin would feel on his fingertips, or how cute you looked when you were pouting.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. This was not good.

"Turns out he'd been having an affair the whole time. I felt so bad for her! I can't say I didn't expect it, though," your coworker said, waving a hand at you. "I mean, he just seemed like the type, y'know?"

Listening to Raina talk about other people's relationships had gotten boring after the first hour, but today had been a slow and boring day, and she didn't expect you to add very much to the conversation.

"Speaking of types, what's yours?" She popped a sucker into her mouth. She'd quit smoking about three years ago, and she'd started taking them everywhere so her mouth could be occupied whenever she felt the urge. Since then it had become a habit to have a sucker in her mouth at all times.

"I dunno, I don't think about it very often." It was a lie, but you didn't want to get into that just minutes before the day was over and you could finally go home. "I haven't really cared much about boys since I was a kid. It's not that big of a deal."

Even as you said it, you realized that wasn't true. Thoughts of a redhead on a hot pink motorcycle crossed your mind too often for it to be not a big deal. He'd even started showing up in your dreams because of how often you thought of him.

"Liar!" She slammed her hands down on the counter, grinning at you. You jumped at the sudden movement, suddenly feeling too warm for your liking. "You're all flustered and nervous! Who's the boy? Spit it out," she ordered.

"Wh-what?! There is no boy, I don't know what you're talking about!" You felt your blood rushing to your face and put your hands up in defense, but it was too late. Raina has you backed into a corner, and judging from the mischievous smirk on her face, you wouldn't be leaving until she drained every last drop of information from you like a gossip leech.

"Oh, come on! It's written all over your face. Tell me about him! Is he cute?" She clapped, way too excited for a conversation that would make you stay even later for work than necessary.

You looked around desperately for an escape. The ring of the front door's bell gave you that out, even if it didn't help you leave any quicker. Not having to tell Raina about Chuuya was all you needed.

You turned with the biggest smile you could manage on your face to greet the customer. However, the second you saw him, your smile fell. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, you mentally sighed. Even just thinking about him seems to make him appear. And now he knows where I work. Fantastic.

Chuuya stopped in the doorway, taking in the strange situation he had walked in on. His eyes caught on how Raina's arms had caged you in and how obviously out of sorts you looked. "Am I… interrupting something?"

Raina jumped off of you and cleared her throat, returning her sucker to its place on her tongue. "Not at all! What can we help you with?"

Her professionalism once a customer stepped in scared you just a little bit. You followed her lead and dusted off your knees, looking away. The last thing you needed was for him to start teasing you as well.

"I was actually here to pick up an order. I know it's late, but-"

"I'll get it for you! Nakahara. I thought the name was familiar," you commented. Actually, you'd been wondering if the order was his all day long. You hadn't placed him as a red velvet guy, but here he was.

While looking through (hiding in) the back, you tried to think of an escape plan. Anything to stop Raina from teasing you for the next few months. She was already insufferable about boys, and if she knew that you had a stupid crush on that stupid redhead with his stupid motorcycle, she would never let you live it down.

"So are you going to tell me what about you made Y/n hightail it out of here, or do I have to make a guess myself?" Raina leaned forward against the front desk, pointing her sucker accusingly at Chuuya.

"Hey, I didn't do anything!" Chuuya raised his hands in mock self-defense, trying not to grin. He'd seen how flustered you'd gotten the second you recognized him. He hoped it was more than just embarrassment of seeing someone you know outside of work walk into your workplace.

"Mhm, sure. How do you know them? Boyfriend? Relative..?" She watched him carefully for his reaction. She was nothing if not good at pulling gossip out of thin air, and your love life was her current muse.

"Neither," he chuckled. "I'm their neighbor. They got pissed as hell at me for being too noisy in the middle of the night and mouthed me off in my own yard. Ever since we seem to be running into each other everywhere."

Raina hummed, sizing him up. After a moment of thinking, she decides you two are obviously in love and she will be involved no matter what the costs. "You know, our shift is about done for the day. Autumn has been coming in quickly and it's been pretty cold lately. Y/n was complaining about walking home in the cold just yesterday. It's a decently long walk to their house from here. Like a whole 40 minutes, right?"

She watched as the gears started moving in his brain. Thank gods, he's not dense. This guy knows what I'm getting at.

He seemed to come to a conclusion just as you reappeared from the back, looking suspiciously more put together than you did just seconds ago. Raina almost wanted to laugh at how obvious you were.

"Your shift is almost over, right? It's pretty cold. I could take you home if you want," he suggested as he took the box from you.

"You would?" You asked, seeming almost stunned by the offer. You blinked at him a couple times before muttering, "I guess that would be nice."

"It's not like it's out of the way of anything." He waved a hand at you as he spoke. "I'll be waiting for you outside."

You nodded and hurried to gather your things into your bag. You carefully avoided answering any of Raina's enthusiastic questions before escaping the building and arriving in the small parking lot.

Your favorite part about the location was how much attention was put into the surrounding scenery. Shrubbery and other assorted vegetation provided scents and colors you didn't get in busier parts of the city. Even walking home, there was very little open area that made you feel like you could be seen from miles away. It was comforting to feel so grounded by your surroundings.

There, in the tiny parking lot that was usually empty, stood your neighbor, who was busy strapping his newly acquired box to the back of his motorcycle.

"You ever been on a bike before?" He didn't spare you a glance as he asked.

"No," you said. "Should I be worried?"

He grinned and didn't respond. He handed you a spare helmet and motioned for you to join him on the motorcycle.

You hesitated for a moment, thinking through all the decisions you had ever made, and after ultimately deciding that this was not the stupidest one, took the helmet from his outstretched hand.

The fact that you would get to hold him had no sway on your decision at all. You swore.

The second you heard the engine start up and felt your weight shift as the bike prepared to move, butterflies erupted in your stomach. The kind that you get before you fall down the stairs or trip on the sidewalk. The, 'oh fuck this is bad' kind of butterflies. But it was too late to get off.

Chuuya tried not to notice how nice it felt when you squeezed him tighter. He could feel your heart racing from where your chest pressed against his back.

He laughed, he couldn't help it. He heard you grumble something from behind him, but couldn't really make out what you were saying. It didn't matter; he had a pretty good idea of what the message was. He bit his tongue to keep from laughing harder as he merged onto the highway.

"Stupid Chuuya, stupid motorcycle," you muttered against his back. Feeling how fast you were moving was not helping the dizziness you had developed. You closed your eyes and held on tighter to the man in front of you, trying to focus on something else, like the texture of his jacket or how nice his hair smelled. You didn't care if it was stupid crush behavior, you needed anything to distract you.

Your heart was beating so fast that you could beat a hummingbird for the world record of beats per minute. Every little movement of the vehicle beneath you brought a fresh wave of panic. You couldn't understand why people would do this for fun.

Eventually you grew used to the constant panic and closed your eyes, blindly trusting Chuuya to get you home without killing the both of you.

When you finally felt the motorcycle stop, you fell off and shakily removed the spare helmet Chuuya had given you. He looked down at you with a crooked grin, obviously struggling to hold back his laughter.

"So, how did you l-like it?" He snickered. The look you shot at him only served to make him dissolve into a fit of laughter.

"Never… again…" You huffed, pushing your hair out of your face and curling up on the ground in front of his house. "Next time, I'm walking. I don't care how cold it is."

"Good luck with that," he grinned. "Oh, and thanks for the cake." He grabbed the box, waved goodbye to you, and went inside.

You stood and watched him leave, placing a hand on your chest. Your heart was racing. You wondered if it was from the terrifying ride or… something else.

reblogs and comments are much appreciated!!!

[despairots]

- at the top of my lungs, in my arms, she dies , #c. nakahara!

description, there’s a reason why chuuya never went to visit you. it’s been like that every since that fateful day of dazai jumping, leaving no goodbye to chuuya. he felt distraught, but he’s moving on, taking the lead of the port mafia boss. though, he’s wondering if you miss him.

story contains, suicide, swearing, mafia activities, character deaths, beast!bsd spoilers, unrequited love??, more like right person, not enough time, angst, etc. gender neutral! reader. drabble, short.

it’s terrifying that i never wrote about chuuya,,,, anyways my bsf is gonna watch bsd and im tryna gatekeep dazai and chuuya from him (i showed akutagawa to him so he can take him)

chuuya nakahara doesn’t remember the last time he visited you. he was piled in work, and a few work that dazai refused to take on and do, leaving it to chuuya. he’s stressed, i mean, who wouldn’t? he’s the port mafia boss.

he hasn’t seen you in a while, he’s too afraid to face you. thinking about all the guilt on leaving you would catch up to him, it’s not that he doesn’t feel guilty— he does— he doesn’t know if you’ll forgive him. he knows you’re a pretty forgiving person, until it’s someone you care about is hurting you a lot.

chuuya’s scared, in short words.

he remembers your touch, your leadership, your eyes, you don’t smile often, he misses it though. he cherishes you very much, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be thinking of you this much.

he hasn’t seen you ever since dazai’s suicide, he misses you both (dazai, a little bit less). after all, you were chuuya’s first love, how couldn’t he miss you? everyday, chuuya wonders what would happen if you didn’t leave.

now, at the port mafia, he’s by himself. all alone. piled with work and the amount of mafioso’s that don’t know how to work. as much as he hates this job, it’s the only place he feels like he belongs in, his loyalty goes beyond.

he wants to see you, so much that it’s hurting him. kouyou could see the look of distraught on the boss, as an executive, she asks what’s wrong with him. they can’t have their boss in this type of state.

kouyou knows how much you mean to him, he has a picture of you in his office, a spider lily caged in a glass beside the photo. she could tell that chuuya loves you, very much so, until the very end.

she’s visited you here and there, telling you how chuuya is and how much he misses you, aswell as wanting to see you. she remembers the words that you’ll wait for him, no matter how long until he sees you.

you had told her not to tell chuuya, well, because maybe chuuya will hurry the process and be there as soon as possible. you wanted him to take his time, you’d wait forever for him, even in death.

“where are you going?” kouyou asks, the answer already in her head once she sees the port mafia boss turn around, holding a bouquet of red roses. “you wanna come with?” the sight makes kouyou widen her eyes a bit before she closes them and turns around.

“i already saw them.” she whispered softly, her heels clicking on the floor as chuuya nods and leaves the building, a black car appearing in front of him.

chuuya can’t remember your voice, he only has your voicemails. he can’t remember your smell either, he only has a few months left until all your clothing, bedsheets, pillows, and perfumes are gone.

the sight of your place comes into view, stepping out of the car and heading straight to yours, the guilt and excitement all rushing into his brain—

—until he steps infront of your grave. dropping the roses on your grave and seeing the left over flowers kouyou left for you. there’s a restrained look of sadness on his face as he stares down on your grave, the wind blowing past him.

he’s scared that you won’t forgive him, for not visiting you, for not being there for you when you needed him the most, and especially, not being strong enough to save you. he thinks that maybe he should’ve just stayed with you, to stop you from hurting yourself any longer.

it’s the life time guilt he has for not being able to forget you, he gave you up to fast and chuuya wants to experience the life of being with you again.

there’s a reason why chuuya never went to visit you.

it’s because you’re dead.

[starscara]

red dress. (c. nakahara)

001. red is such a nice colour, isn’t it?

002. nsfw, dom/sub dynamic, mentions of blood, possessive behaviour, spanking, sadism, degradation, hair pulling

Red is Chuuya Nakahara’s favourite colour. It’s the colour of everything he loves; the colour of wine, the colour of blood and most importantly, the colour of your ass as he slaps it raw.

Yes, Chuuya loves red.

“You know,” he taunts, bringing his hand down onto your ass with a resounding slap. “I wouldn’t be doing this if you just did as I asked.” A sadistic snarl is painted on his face as he brings his palm down again, the sound echoing through the apartment. “Maybe this time, you’ll learn your damn lesson.”

Black tears stream down your cheeks as you grip onto the bedsheets and brace yourself for another impact. Chuuya’s next slap sends you reeling and a stream of wetness trickles down your thighs as you wail out in both pain and pleasure. “ ‘M sorry, Sir,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut. “I-it won’t happen again, I promise!”

Suddenly, you feel his fingers tangle in your hair and a rough pull as he drags your ear to his lips. “Who’s to say you won’t?” he growls, followed by a rough squeeze to your blistering asscheek. “Who’s to say my absolute whore of a girlfriend won’t go batting her eyes at the next available man, hm?”

You’re shoved back into the bed like a ragdoll and before you can even open your mouth to protest, another harsh slap lands on your rear. The moan you let out is filthy, enough to make Chuuya’s own cock stir in his pants. “What a slut,” he spits through clenched teeth. “Whatever will I do with you, hm?”

Chuuya’s voice is gentle now, and the harsh slaps have turned into loving strokes as he massages your sore flesh. His strong hand slides under your belly and he flips you onto your back, dotting kisses all over your chests and stomach. “My pretty girl,” he murmurs, swirling his tongue around your perky nipple before placing a fleeting kiss on your lips. “My good girl.”

The red dress from the party earlier that night lays abandoned on the floor beside the bed, your lacy red underwear decorating the crinkled silk.

Chuuya loves red because it’s his colour and when you wear it, it means that you are his and nobody else’s.

© starscara 2022 — all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[nkhrchuwuya]

fatigue

bungou stray dogs | G | 660 words nakahara chuuya x reader / oc

no matter how much work you put in, it doesn’t seem to end. chuuya just wants to convince you to rest. 

“baby, you should go to bed.”

“i promise, just three more paragraphs and i’m done,” you argue, keeping your eyes trained on your laptop in front of you so the sight of chuuya in his sleeping clothes and the wide, warm bed behind him doesn’t tempt you.

“you’ve been staying up for days,” chuuya reminds you. “one night out won’t kill your manuscript.”

“but…” you pout.

all you really wanted to do was make some progress with what you were doing. no amount of work you put in it seem to reduce the number of things that needed to be written for your story—and that was starting to make you feel dizzy.

“i’m not even sleepy.” you argue, even if you know it’s not getting past chuuya.  

“then i’ll make you,” chuuya says. he offers his hand, like to a dance, instead of to bed. you hesitate, eyes hovering over your opened word document, before the sigh of exhaustion finally rises out of your throat. you save the file; shut down the laptop; take your glasses off; before you take chuuya’s hand, and with the red aura of gravity he sweeps you off your feet to carry you to the bed.

the bed is, as you expected, warm and welcoming, so soft and great for snuggling. but you know that if you cuddle chuuya now, you will only end up wide awake while he falls into an easy slumber. chuuya watches what you’ll do. you decide to crawl over to his seated form and plop your head on his lap.

“pillow,” you say, by way of explanation. you take his hand closest to you and tangle it with yours.

chuuya lifts his other hand to stroke your hair gently, and you close your eyes at the touch.

you have a streak of stubbornness in you that never really went away, no matter how hard chuuya tried to coax it out of you. always refusing to put yourself first; always pushing yourself to the limit even past the detrimental point…

at least you’ve learned to not reject his help when he reaches out his hand.

chuuya oftentimes wonders if there’s something he can do ease the insecurity in your heart that he knows leads to that stubbornness. about the need for perfection or else. about needing to give it all or else. but he also knows there is only so much love can do. the least he can do is stay by your side, isn’t it?

he hums the melody of an older song as he tenderly runs his hands through your hair, urging you to sleep. you sigh at the feeling of his fingers on your scalp; it doesn’t take long for you to fully surrender to him like this.

“i love you,” he says, bursts out of his chest like a firework, once your breaths have evened and your hold on his hand has slackened. he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead. the gesture makes a small, unconscious smile rise to your face which he delights at.

there’s a lot chuuya can do materially for you. like this, sitting by you to urge you to sleep. or get you to quit your job so you can focus on your passions. he can provide for you; and he will gladly do so. but there’s also only so much he can do about your heart, and he hopes holding it lovingly against his chest would be enough to at least give you ease.

chuuya, with a gentle flicker of his fingers, lifts you with anti-gravity and tucks you into bed, the bedsheets curling around your form so well like waves against the shore. but the moment he’s settled down next to you, your sleepy touch crosses the sheets to press yourself against him, still entirely asleep.

a quiet lull falls in the room as the two of you snuggle against each other, knowing exactly where you belong.

[tacticaldiary]

Hello! I absolutely love your writing! I was wondering if I could request Chuuya Nakahara or Atsushi Nakajima x a reader with insecurities or an artistic ability?

Insecure

Pairing: Reader x Chuuya Nakahara

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

He's not about to let her think she's anything but perfect for him.

Masterlist

Etsy Character Letters!

"Can we...stay home today, maybe?" Her voice is meek and it makes Chuuya immediately abandon the cufflinks he's trying to put on. Setting them down on the bedside table with a clink, he raises an eyebrow.

"Are you feeling alright?" She can feel his gaze looking her up and down critically to spot any sign of discomfort or pain. She nods her head, dropping her eyes to the ground, the grips on the red dress she was planning to wear tighten, the fabric bunching up in her hand.

The room is silent for a few seconds, before she hears the bedsheets shift, and a pair of socked feet come into view. A gentle hand tilts her chin up, eyes meeting his. His are concerned and curious, hers are guilty and sad.

"What's the matter?" He glances at the dress in her hands, reaching out and tugging it from her grasp. "Do you not like it?"

Chuuya had gotten her the dress as a gift to wear to the date they had planned today. It's not that she didn't like it. It was something she would wear and it was a beautiful colour. She loved it when he presented it to her, tackled him into a hug.

She remembers the way he laughed, spinning her around the room before setting her down with a kiss. That was yesterday.

Today she felt...off. Everything felt wrong and Y/N was a little too critical of the way she looked. The dress, when she'd tried t on a few hours ago, just didn't seem flattering to her. It hugged the wrong places and she just looked awkward in her opinion.

"I do." She admits. "I just...don't think I look very nice in it. Today." She mumbles the last part, dropping her forehead to his shoulder. His hand comes up to run through her brushed hair, and she continues.

"I don't like the way I look, t's not just the dress. I like it, I promise." Chuuya hums.

"You look damn good in everything and nothing, but we can stay n today if you want." She wills the heat in her face to go away, before she responds.

"Sorry-"

"Nope." She blinks, and raises her head to look at him.

"But-"

"Going and staying is the same thing to me if it makes you happy." He shrugs. Pulling away slightly he shrugs off his fancy coat and throws it across the room in a heap. Taking her hand, he tugs her along.

Soon the two of them are wrapped around each other, comfortable, with a movie on, on the TV in their room. Her head in tucked into the crook of her neck and nether of them are really paying attention to the film.

She mumbles something against his skin, curling into him further.

"I told you not to apologise." He sighs. "I'll pinch you the next time you do, don't test me."

Y/N huff out a laugh. She wouldn't test that theory. Instead, she mutters something else.

Chuuya smiles.

"You're welcome."

-

(08/12/2021)

[the-port-marfiar]

Sweet Dreams

I actually got followers from the sneak peak thing?!?! goddamn tysm for 33 followers!!:D Also i feel like ive disappointed everyone with how this turned out but ok

Consensual Somnophilia btw!!(is that how its spelt? lol)

Chuuya x male! reader

Chuuya woke up to movement that night, it was around seven in the morning, but he and his lover had decided to sleep in that morning. Besides, he had no work to be late to, it was Sunday, after all. 

Said movement was caused by his lover, who was shifting, tossing and turning in bed and, if Chuuya’s eyes weren’t failing him, there were beads of sweat on his forehead. Worriedly, he put a hand around his waist, thinking he had a fever, intending to wake him up- 

Chuuya paused. Was that a-? No, no.. he must have heard it in his head.. His lover hadn’t moaned in his sleep, had he? 

“haah..please..” 

He paused, so it was a wet dream. He lightly tapped at his stomach, “(y/n)?” He paid no attention to the mention of his name, pushing back against Chuuya, trying to get as much friction as he could, small moans escaping his open lips. 

Chuuya groaned, already starting to get hard, “(y/n)...” He reached down, stroking his abdomen before his hand dipped into his pajama pants, grabbing his length and rubbing the tip with his thumb. 

(Y/n) moaned, clutching at the bedsheets and arching his back, rubbing against Chuuya and in turn making him hum a noise of satisfaction. 

Chuuya let his free hand wander, grabbing at his chest and rubbing his now hardened buds, making him gasp and sputter at the stimulation. 

He nipped at his ear and trailed light kisses down his neck, sucking a hickey just below his jaw, (y/n)’s sweet spot, he mewled. 

Chuuya slipped a thigh in between his legs, moving it upwards in slow movements, a whimper escaped (y/n)’s throat as he grinded down on it, clutching his knee while moaning shamelessly. 

He massaged his hips, mouth still working on his neck, leaving many bruises and hickies to form. (Y/n) whined, unable to reach his peak and Chuuya cooed at him, tensing his thigh and rubbing it harder against his groin. 

He groaned at the movement, crying out when he finally reached his orgasm, panting heavily and hands shaking around Chuuya’s knee. 

He could feel a wet spot form on his thigh, seeping into the fabric. He gently slipped his thigh out, holding the (h/c)-nette as he rode out his high, convulsing slightly in his arms. 

Once he finally calmed down, Chuuya untangled them and went downstairs to the kitchen, beginning to cook breakfast. 

---

“G’morning Chu..” Chuuya hummed at his lover, looking back at him with a teasing smile, “Had a fun time?” 

(Y/n) flushed, “Wh-what do you mean?”

Chuuya smirked, “What did you dream about?” 

He muttered a small ‘nothing’, burying his face in his arms, completely red. He chuckled seductively, “I’m not done with you yet, just wait till after breakfast..” (Y/n) made a small noise and blushed harder. 

[auroreswritings]

Some terribly sweet fluff for day 5, just because! Main prompt is Forehead Kiss, with a bit of Winter going on as well.

It seems like I can only write stories where the two meet for the first time, why is that!? I guess I have a thing for beginnings, or something like that ^^’

This is way shorter than the previous works, so it’ll be a quick read I think (for once haha). Hope you enjoy Atsushi being all mother-like towards Chuuya, for once he’s the one being taken care of!

Find it on AO3.

The Cure to All Disease

              His eyes fluttered open, bright light burning his irises. His head was pounding, his mouth was dry, his throat was stinging. He turned around, realizing he was lying on a bed. It was warm and comfortable; it felt like a piece of heaven surrounding the hellish war happening inside of him. A shiver ran up and down his body, drawing a painful groan out of him. His whole body hurt, he felt like his core was burning while his skin was floating in an ice bath. He couldn’t remember what had happened or how he’d ended up curled up in this bed. He gripped the covers tighter, shoving his head harder in the cushion. He closed his eyes again, hoping for the sweet darkness of sleep to embrace him again so he could forget the horrors of the physical world around him. Nothing came and he stayed there lying, suffocating in the sheets but gladly keeping them around him at the same time. Eventually, two soft knocks on a door made him stick his head out of the covers’ shelter.

              The sky was clear blue outside, not a single trace of clouds could be seen. Snow was covering the ground, shining brightly under the shy rays of the sun; winter was here with its beautiful landscapes and biting temperatures. Atsushi entered the room with a tray in hands. Various bowls and cups were standing precariously on it, swaying dangerously with each of the man’s movements. He closed the door with his foot and placed the tray on the nightstand. A mop of persimmon hair was sticking out of the pure white bedsheets, two squinted sapphire eyes hardly visible underneath. Atsushi sat down on the chair next to the bed, his voice rising in the air in a hushed, quiet tone:

              “-You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?” The covers moved down a little and the face hiding behind them was brought into full view. Chuuya looked completely exhausted: his face was a lot paler than usual, dark circles were stretching down his face, his lips formed a thin, dried line. He tried to talk, but his throat constricted, painfully letting but a tiny amount of air out, just enough to form a whisper:

              “-Like hell-” a coughing fit took hold of him before he could finish his sentence. Atsushi brought one of his hands to the covers, squeezing lightly.

              “-It’s okay, you don’t have to talk.” He gestured towards the tray on the night stand. “I’ve brought some soup and water; please drink it all so you can get better quickly!” His voice was still hushed but Chuuya could hear the concern in it.

              He propped himself up, sitting down with difficulty. He was still squinting; the bright shine of the snow was too much for his sore eyes. Understanding the problem, Atsushi hurried to the window and closed the curtains, leaving just enough light for them to see what they were doing. The throbbing in Chuuya’s head seemed to calm a little. He grabbed a glass of water on the nightstand and gulped the liquid quickly; its freshness was a relief in his mouth, even if his throat was protesting against the sudden contact.

              Atsushi sat back next to him, his eyes glinting like gems fixed on the bedded man. Chuuya put the empty glass on the tray and reclined back on the cushions, breathing with difficulty. He tried to remember how he had ended up here, and most of all who was the man next to him; he felt like he had seen him before, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on when or where that was. As if he had read his mind, the young man spoke in his now familiar quiet voice:

              “-I’m Nakajima Atsushi, I’m part of the Armed Detective Agency. I don’t know if you’ve heard of me before but the Port Mafia was after me some time ago…” Chuuya’s mind was slowly working out what he’d just been told. Nakajima Atsushi… Wasn’t he the tiger boy Akutagawa was supposed to capture for this rich American guy? Before Chuuya could think about it further, Atsushi spoke again:

              “-You must be Chuuya, right? Dazai’s told me about you before. Don’t worry! He doesn’t know you’re here!” A delicate smile graced the weretiger’s lips, his gaze falling softly over the Mafioso. “I found you passed out in a street nearby, I wasn’t sure what to do so I brought you in. It seems you caught a really bad cold.” Chuuya nodded, the movement reminding him of the ball of needles lodged in his throat.

              Thinking about it, he could slowly make out what had happened. He was on a special mission on his own, a mission of extreme importance, which had made him ignore the signs of sickness in his body. He thought he would still be able to work despite the fever, but he had apparently overestimated his capacities. His last memories were of him standing in a street, trying to keep his balance as his head was spinning furiously. After that, total blackness, and then he had woken up here. He tried to speak again, but he could feel the cough rising in his chest.

              Atsushi brought his chair closer to the bed, as silently as he could. He grabbed a bowl of soup and a spoon from the tray, and approached them from Chuuya. He scooped some of the warm liquid in the spoon and brought it to Chuuya’s lips. The red-head raised an eyebrow at Atsushi.

              “-Here, have some. It’s chicken soup, I heard it’s good against colds.” His earnest tone made Chuuya give in and he opened his mouth, drinking the warm food. Despite his sickness, Chuuya could still taste the different flavors of the soup; it was delicious and heartwarming. The temperature of the liquid was soothing against his throat, calming the stinging and relaxing the muscles.

              Atsushi fed Chuuya for a while; he had managed to drink most of the bowl before he had to stop, unable to take any more down. As he slipped down under the blankets again, a warm feeling took over him. It was the first time someone had ever helped him in such a way while he was sick. A tiny smile made its way to his lips, carefully hidden from Atsushi’s view. This complete stranger, this enemy even, was caring for him just like a mother would. The thought made his blood creep up his face. Atsushi, noticing his sudden redness, approached him. He rested a hand on his forehead for a few seconds, before leaning in, his face coming dangerously close to Chuuya’s. The Mafioso tried to back down on the bed, but he couldn’t go any farther. His voice erupted, rough and a little panicked:

              “-What are you doing?” The tiger didn’t answer, only letting his mouth land on the man’s forehead. He stayed there, immobile, soft lips kissing skin warmer than normal.

              After a couple seconds that felt like eternity, Atsushi straightened up, face moving up a few centimeters, multicolored gaze meeting ocean eyes. He froze in place, blinked a couple times, and as if finally realizing what had just happened, he stood up quickly, taking a few steps away from the bed. His face was a deep red and he was stuttering, trying to get his words out.

              “-I-I-I just heard tha-that’s how your we-were supposed to do to t-take someone’s temperature, th-that’s all!” His hands were waving in front of him, as if to keep Chuuya away from him, although the man couldn’t really do much in his current position.

              The faint sound of a chuckle flew from under the covers, making Atsushi calm down right away. All that was visible of Chuuya were his tangerine hair, softly glinting in the tiny rays of sunlight still coming in from the windows, his cerulean eyes glistening with something that Atsushi could interpret as joy, and the tips of his ears, as red as strawberries in the morning sun. The view made Atsushi’s heart flutter and the red on his face deepen. He quickly grabbed the tray on the nightstand, asked Chuuya to take some rest in a shaky voice as he did so and raced for the door, leaving the red-head alone once again.

              Chuuya cuddled up under the covers, feeling a lot better than he would have imagined a mere half hour ago. The warmth in his belly and in his heart was slowly lulling him to sleep and he let himself be engulfed in sweet slumber, a gentle smile curving his lips; he seemed to have found the best way to cure his sickness, and maybe more.

[solyongtherainbow]

Puzzle - A Dazatsu Fanfic

Heeeey @harashins​! I’m your @dazatsu-valentine-exchange gifter! Sorry, this is a bit late and tbh I don’t think it’s that great :P But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! :)

Pairing: Dazatsu

Rating: G

Other places to read: AO3

Summary: Dazai actually did a serious suicide attempt....and it almost succeeded. Atsushi wondered what was the reason behind it was.

~~~~~~~

Atsushi couldn’t believe it. Dazai had done another of his suicide attempts, but this time, he was going to the Agency’s emergency room. He had also left three notes. One for the ADA, one for the Port Mafia, and one for Atsushi.

About 2 hours later, Yosano came out. She couldn’t use her ability on Dazai because of his ability, but she was still a professional doctor. “Yosano-sensei, what’s his condition?” Yosano looked at her clipboard.

“It appears that he tried to commit suicide through drug overdose and hanging. The motive is unknown. We found him in time, so he will recover eventually. But we should send him to a therapist, or at the least, have him talk to someone, a short while after he awakens.”

“Damn!” Kunikida slammed his fist on the table. “If only we’d listened to Ranpo-san more seriously…” Atsushi remembered Ranpo’s words.

“Everybody, come here a moment.” After Dazai had left for a case with Kyouka one morning, Ranpo called the Agency over. “What is it, Ranpo-san?”

“....I don’t know how to put this into words….but something about Dazai seems off recently.” Yosano looked at him. “What do you mean?”

Ranpo was silent for a moment.

“It feels like…. he’s being dragged into a black hole.” They all listened closely. Suddenly, Ranpo seemed to realize something. He stared straight at Atsushi. “Atsushi-kun. I can’t help him on this one. Only you can.” “M-m-me?” Atsushi was shocked. “Why me?”

“...You’ll find out eventually. I….Even with my smarts, I can’t do emotional stuff like this…I’d only make it worse.” Ranpo’s usual confidence seemed to disappear for a moment.

“I’m counting on you, Atsushi-kun.”

But what did he mean? Sitting in the Agency, late at night, Atsushi was still thoroughly confused.

But nobody could figure out what the meaning behind that message was.

After a moment of silence, Yosano stood up. “Well, there’s no use in just sitting around. You guys should all go home and get some rest.” Everybody nodded and stood up.

As they all filed out the door, Yosano pulled Atsushi back. “You stay here for the night with me.” Just in case. Out of all the people here, she knew Ranpo the best, plus Atsushi didn’t want to fail Ranpo.

So he grabbed a blanket, laid down on a couch, and settled in for the night.

~~~~~~~~~

(Dazai’s POV)

Dazai was falling. He was falling from a high tower. What….is going on? Dazai knew, he had tried to commit suicide. Maybe this was his eternal punishment in the land of the dead?

Then suddenly, Atsushi appeared. He was at the top of the building, throwing a rope to him in a panic. He seemed to be genuinely concerned about Dazai.

It was odd. He felt fear, because he was falling. But at the same time, an unusual sense of satisfaction overcame him. So this is death….

~~~~~~

Early the next morning, Yosano woke Atsushi up. “He’s awake. Why don’t you go talk to him?” Atsushi rubbed his eyes. “Is there anything I should avoid?”

Yosano’s eyes lit up. I get Ranpo-san now. “All I have to say is, don’t be wishy-washy. Other than that, you’re free.” She walked away to get the Agency ready for the day.

Atsushi was confused. ‘Don’t be wishy-washy?’ And why was Yosano-sensei suddenly so relaxed?

He got up. “I don’t think I can do this…” Yosano turned around. “What are you talking about? You’re the only one who can.” She smiled.

~~~~~

Atsushi entered the infirmary. “Excuse me, Dazai-san.” “Oh, it’s you, Atsushi-kun! Come sit down.” Atsushi did as he was told.

“So..um..how are you feeling?” Dazai looked on for a moment, confused. Then he said, “Oh, I’m good as I can possibly be right now!” and smiled.

Ranpo-san was right. Something’s off. Atsushi looked at Dazai. In that moment, Atsushi could tell that Dazai saw him in a new light, different from the one before.

“Dazai-san…” “What is it?” Dazai looked curious, and in fact he was. “Um….” What should I say? Then he remembered Yosano sensei’s words. “Don’t be wishy-washy.”

“Dazai-san, I’m going to get straight to the point. Why did you do it?” Dazai was startled. “Atsushi-kun, what do you mean?” “You know what I mean. Why did you try to commit suicide?” “Did you read my note?” “I did. But why?” Atsushi said in a pained voice.

Atsushi held up the short note. Atsushi-kun, I hope you and Akutagawa-kun can get along.“What does this mean?” “Exactly what it means, Atsushi-kun. Soukoku wouldn’t exist anymore if I had succeeded. You and Akutagawa-kun needed to keep the peace.”

“But, Dazai-san, that’s not…” “What are you trying to say?” Dazai looked at Atsushi with a kind face.

It might have been just a mask, it was that kind of expression on Dazai that Atsushi remembered when Dazai had practically saved his life.

This is going to be hard. But I have to do it. Dazai-san has done so much for me. I have to repay him back in some way.

Atsushi tried again. “Dazai-san, you and Chuuya-san are fine enough as a team. Why are you suddenly leaving such a huge responsibility to Akutagawa and I?” “Atsushi, we’re not that great of a team.” “You two defeated an entire organization in one night.” “That was way back then.” “You could still do it.” “Double black (small)’s rank in the mafia is slowly getting higher. We won’t be able to fight together much longer.” “That’s the same case with Akutagawa and I.”

“Atsushi, listen to me. I have to leave this to you. You’re the only one who can.” Atsushi head the meaning behind that. Atsushi, you’re the only one that can follow in my footsteps.

But why now? That was the one question Atsushi had. Why now? Why would he just leave this to me all of a sudden? Why…. “Why did you just decide to leave now?” “Huh?”

Crap. I said that out loud. Atsushi bit his fingernail. “Atsushi-kun, do you mean as to why I decided to commit suicide? You already asked me that.” Dazai looked at him.

“Well, that’s not what I- um...How do I put this…” He scratched his head. “Dazai-san, Akutagawa and I have barely any training. I get why you would trust Akutagawa, but why do you have so much trust in me?”

Dazai looked nervous. His face turned slightly pink. “Dazai-san? Are you alright?” Atsushi seemed to be genuinely worried. Dazai smiled.“That’s the face. That’s the face I fell in love with in.” Atsushi himself turned slightly pink. “Huh?”

“That genuine face...there’s no lies, no mask, just pure emotion. That’s...something I never got to see in the Mafia.” Dazai shook his head. “It seems like you’re determined to find out why, Atsushi-kun. So I’ll tell you why.”

“I...didn’t know what to do.” Dazai-san, who always knows what to do? Atsushi listened closely. “When I fell in love with you...I didn’t know what to do. I’ve never felt something like that. I thought it was another lie, a ruse made up to hide a different emotion that I already knew. I thought it was just another mask.”

“I thought my emotions were lying to me. Just the fact that my own emotions betrayed me...that was enough to drive me to insanity.”

“I mean, Atsushi...Is it a fantasy that I should think, someone like you could love a creep like me?” Atsushi was shocked. “What? Why would you say that?” Dazai looked down at the white hospital bedsheets. “I mean,....I’m insane, immature, untrustworthy, and on top of all that… suicidal. Are you sure you want to fall in love with someone like that?”

Atsushi thought about that for a moment with a grim expression. Dazai’s usual charisma had disappeared, leaving a man who physically was an adult, but in reality, his heart had missed some of the pieces needed to become one. He was still a child in some ways. How should I deal with this…? Then it came to him.

“Dazai-san, you may be those things, but I have no problem being in love with you.” “...What?”

“You have those faults, but there’s so much more to you than just that. You’re more confident than I could ever be, you know just what to do in tight situations, and you’re… hot.” Atsushi’s entire face turned red.

Dazai laughed. “Hot? Why, thank you, Atsushi. But you’re making no sense. The first two…” he said, shaking his head, “Aren’t true.” Atsushi looked at him straight in the eye. “Maybe not all of the time, but that’s what I’m here for.”

“Dazai-san, you and I are like two pieces of a puzzle. We may be deformed in some places, but when put together, we can form a beautiful picture. Humans alone aren’t perfect, but that’s why there are so many of us.”

“Dazai-san, I want to create a beautiful picture with you. Would you be willing to help me once more?”

Dazai looked up at him. He smiled at Atsushi’s beautifully honest, innocent, and genuine face. Dazai nodded. “I’d love to.”

/Toushirou Hitsugaya (Bleach) We are all like fireworks. We climb, shine, and always go our separate ways and become further apart. But even if that time comes, let's not disappear like a firework. Let's continue to shine... Forever./

[chuuyaaf]

Living to Die - Part 8

Alright, school starts for me tomorrow, which means daily updates will no longer be a thing u.u I’ll probably be updating once a week, most likely on Friday nights/Saturday mornings. This’ll also give me time to write more parts since I’ve actually posted almost the entirety of what I already had written! 

~Admin Kat

[Beginning]

<< Previous | Next >>

The next morning, you found yourself in bed with a mound of blankets over your body. You buried your face inside it, doing anything you could to shield the sunlight from your face. You felt like your head was trying to implode within yourself. 

You groaned and placed a hand on your head, attempting to heal whatever it was that was causing you pain. The pain resided slightly, but the ringing of your phone interrupted your little healing session.

You picked up the phone without even looking at who it was that was calling.

"What?!" you said, irritated.

"Oh~ Someone sounds like they had a rough night," Dazai spoke over the phone. 

You buried your face in the bedsheets, practically hearing the smirk growing on Dazai's obnoxious face. "What do you want?" you asked, your voice coming out muffled.

"Meet me at that bar you like to go to in 30 minutes."

"Is this a date?"

"Do you want it to be?"

Your face immediately turned red and you were filled with regret for even asking the question. "...I have to go." You hung up the phone and then buried your face again.

Why do I act so stupid around him?

You got dressed and immediately headed for the bar you were at last night.

As you walked down the street, the blurry memories from last night slowly came back to you.

Drinking too much.

Dancing.

And talking...way too much.

"If you hate him so much, why didn't you just request to be under my watch? I would've gladly taken you in," Chuuya said as he downed another shot.

You were laid down in the booth, your face beet red from the alcohol. You lazily sat up and planted your face against your hand, propping yourself up with your elbow. "Because I don't hate him and I hate that I don't hate him."

"Explain yourself."

You threw your hands up into the air. "He's always hitting on me and no matter how much I try, that bastard somehow gets to me!" You placed your face onto the table, groaning. 

"Hah?! You're not telling me that you actually have feelings for him!"

"I do...And I hate it."

Your face immediately flushed up as if all the blood within your body was rising to your face as you suddenly remembered your confession to Chuuya.

Oh god oh god oh god oh god I need to find Chuuya and make sure he doesn't-

"Wow! You got here fast, I was hoping to beat you here, (y/n)-chan," Dazai's chipper voice interrupted your thoughts.

You let out a little squeal, not expecting the very person you were worried the most about to show up so soon.

"Oh~ That's probably the cutest thing you've ever done!" Dazai had sparkles in his eyes. "(y/n)-chan, are you finally opening up to me?"

You shut your eyes in embarrassment. "Not a chance," you responded, finally grasping a hold of yourself.

Dazai let out a little pout. "SO!" he suddenly said, cheerful again while wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. "You're an executive now, huh?"

Your face felt like it was going to explode at your sudden closeness to Dazai.

He smells nice...I could just sleep on-NO

You ripped herself out of your thoughts and out of Dazai's arms as well. "WHAT THE HELL?! D-Don't..." you looked down. "...touch me."

"Ohhhhh~?" Dazai leaned towards you before poking you in the cheek.

"YOU'RE IMPOSSIBLE!" you yelled, glaring at the bandaged man.

He laughed at your irritation. "Sorry, you set yourself up for that one."

"...If I'm an executive, that means I'm no longer your subordinate, right?"

Dazai nodded, wondering where you were going with this subject.

"Does that mean that I can now kill you?"

"Instead of killing me," Dazai extended a hand out. "How would you feel about committing a double suicide with me?"

You clenched your jaw, knowing that this was a common phrase that Dazai used when flirting with women. However, he's never used it on you before.

I'm just another one of his games.

You were suddenly reminded of the chat that you and Chuuya had last night and felt a tight pull within your chest.

"...(y/n)-chan?"

You sighed and looked away from him. "Just...Tell me what I need to do now."

"Ah? Well, you can choose the perfect bridge to jump off of or we can-"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT, YOU IDIOT!" Your fist landed on Dazai's head, which he was now sheepishly rubbing.

God damn, how is it that you're able to make me feel flustered, jealous, sad, and horrifically irritated all at the same time?!

"Ah...Well abusing other executives is against the rules-"

"Liar. I see Chuuya threatening to kill you all the time."

Dazai scoffed, slightly irritated at the mention of his rival. "Where is that shortie, anyway? He said he had something to tell me...” 

Alarms went off in your head and you immediately thought of a million different ways to torture Chuuya for his betrayal.

"...D-Did he say anything else?" you asked timidly.

"Oh~? Why, did you tell him something that you don't want me to know?" Dazai now had a grin, sensing something amiss within his female companion.

"What?! No, of course not!"

"You're lyiiiiing~"

"No, I'm not!" you groaned and looked away. "What the hell did you have to call me here for, anyway? I was perfectly happy in bed."

"I bet you'd be happier if I was in bed with you-"

Your fist had landed on Dazai's head again. "What do you want?!"

Dazai rubbed his head again, certain that he was going to get a concussion from the amount of times he's gotten beat on it within the last 24 hours.

"Well, being an executive basically means you get to control your own faction within the mafia. Since you'll be in charge of the Black Lizard, all requests for attacks will go through you, sometimes Hirotsu-san if you decide that the smaller requests are a waste of time. And you get to approve or deny the requests, which I thought would be especially good for you considering your little...condition."

You clenched your jaw at the way Dazai said that word. "Refusing to kill innocents is not a condition, it's a choice. By the way, doesn't your friend also have a similar ‘condition’?"

Dazai sighed. "Oda-kun is an interesting fellow, refusing to kill entirely, so he just does the mafia's dirty work." 

"I only ever agreed to join the mafia in the first place because it gave me an opportunity to rid this city of worse sins."

"How ironic. You sure there weren't any other deciding factors?" Dazai's smirk returned.

Of course.

"Never."

[nkhrchuwuya]

attention

bungou stray dogs | EXPLICIT | 521 words nakahara chuuya x (afab) reader/oc

you think you can’t have enough of chuuya’s attention until he smothers you with it. can’t say you’re not pleased, though.

“you already have my full attention now, love. why are you still squirming about?”

you hadn’t meant to get so upset at such a small thing, but you’ve been missing out on proper hours with your boyfriend for over a month now, and the longing has stretched you out too thin.

it’s the first night after the mission that had taken over chuuya’s life for the past 34 days (you counted), and he’d promised you his full attention. except of course there were still loose strands to be tied up and throughout dinner he was typing away at his phone—refusing to answer calls in lieu of texting was the most he could do, he said.

“hey,” you called out to him over dinner, elbows on the set table, chin on your palms, “pay attention to me.”

(that was your downfall.)

because now, you’re lying spread-eagled on your shared bed, chuuya in between your legs. his hands hold you firmly in place, refusing to let up no matter how hard you buck and beg and try to pull away. he’d told you to count how many times he can make you cum with his mouth alone, but you’d lost count after number five. now, the only thing grounding you is the steady tick-tock-tick of the clock on the wall.

“isn’t this what ya asked for? my attention. i’m giving it to you,” chuuya smirks, licks a stripe up your sopping wet pussy, the clear liquid of your arousal staining the sheets below. “or perhaps you’ve had enough of me?”

“no!” you answer, on instinct—before you realize what you’d basically agreed to. “that’s not— but i—”

“you can just tell me to stop, yanno,” his voice now plain and serious. you shake your head eagerly, so adamant and against the notion of stopping right now. “s’that so? then don’t mind if i go back to business.”

(chuuya gauges you for a moment, trying to see consciousness in your eyes. you nod at him, a silent agreement. you haven’t used your safeword. and honestly? you don’t think you will.)

“mmm, i’ve missed this,” he hums, languidly collecting your juices up with his tongue before fucking it back into you. “i could just sit here and eat ya out for hours if ya let me. it’d be a win-win for both of us.”

you whine, the thought of it sending electricity jolting up your spine. surely you’d been here for an hour already? you try to spot the clock but your eyes are too blurry to work properly. instead, you uncurl your hand from where it’s frozen on the bedsheet and tangle it into chuuya’s fiery red hair, stroking his scalp.

“t-too much,” you whine, trying to close your thighs to seal the oversensitive flesh in between, but chuuya’s firm hand stops you from doing so. “had enough.”

“too much? no, princess,” chuuya hums, a happy, content sound against your inner thigh. “we’ll be here a while. no distractions, just me and you.” he sucks a bruise against the delicate flesh, pinkish-purple flower on your skin. “you’ll have my attention all night.”